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sserpente · 2 days

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The Weight of a Promise - Part II

Synopsis: One month has passed since you reluctantly became Lord Gortash's concubine. You ought to hate him--yet your heart seems to disagree.

A/N: When inspiration strikes…you gotta strike back! Took a bit longer than I expected but here we go! :D

You can read Part I here!

Words: 2523 Warnings: violence, blood, mentions of prostitution, concubine!Reader

“Good morning, dear. I take it you’ve had sweet dreams?”

You stirred, eyes flying open. You were warm, and comfortable. Cosy. Your head was resting on Gortash’s naked chest, his right arm pressing you close against his body. You had gotten so used to his presence and the intimacy between you that you didn’t even flinch away when his fingertips ghosted over your bare shoulder but instead…took relish in it.

“Morning…”

One whole month. You had been keeping an eye on the calendar on Gortash’s desk. You were surprised, to say the least. Part of you had suspected he would grow tired of you after a few days and move on to the next whore he’d be given for free. Perhaps one that would throw herself at him.

Alas, as much as you hated to admit it, you had begun to enjoy his company. Enver Gortash was as insufferable as he was megalomaniacal. But he was charming, too. No wonder the city gladly accepted him as its hero and saviour.

His mask was perfect. You very much doubted he truly did have a heart for the homeless and the poor though. Only yesterday had you overheard him talk about increasing the tax rates for small businesses for more profit to put into his Steel Watch. Now that you spent so much time with him, you would have believed his chivalry too had you not known the truth. A good man did not keep concubines, not like this. A good man did not have rumours spread about him worshipping one of the dead three.

And yet, despite everything, part of you was growing…grateful. He’d kept his promise. Thanks to him, you barely remembered what hunger was now. He had gotten you so many dresses you could never decide what to wear and every night, you shared his bed, warm and comfortable, nestled underneath his soft sheets.

The sex was phenomenal, of course. Just like the very first time he had claimed you, you would be lying if you insisted it wasn’t a pleasurable experience for you. Only it was empty, meaningless. Why else would he keep you around if not for a wet hole to fuck when he was overcome with lust?

The more time you were forced to spend with him, the more you realised that you wanted him to like you for more than your body. To know that you were more than an object for him to play with and entertain himself with and to convince yourself and your stupid feelings that he was not the villain you took him for. To soothe your own conscience.

It could be Stockholm Syndrome, you thought, chewing on your lower lip. But then again, he had told you that you were free to go the very day you arrived, made it seem like it had been your own choice to become a slave to his most carnal desires in exchange for your basic human needs to be met.

The mornings all started the same. You and Gortash had breakfast together, after that he tended to his archduke business and you remained in bed for a while longer, reading the books he owned. He’d call you over at some point, eager for your company—or your body.

As of right now, he was finished with his duties for the day. After a rich lunch, he’d insisted on taking a walk with you by the sea near Wyrm’s Rock to take his mind off things, a Steel Watcher always in close vicinity to protect him.

“You are not focusing at all, are you, dear? Could you at least put in a little bit of effort? Make it a challenge for me!”

You blinked. You’d been staring at the lance board for what must have been several minutes with your knees tucked and your chin resting between them. Gortash had insisted you played with him tonight. Only you had no idea how.

“I don’t know how to play,” you admitted.

Amusement flashed over Gortash’s handsome face. “You don’t know how to play lance board? Truly?”

You shook your head.

He took a deep breath. “Well, in that case…it is rather simple. There are six pieces in the game that—”

“Why did you increase the tax rates?” You couldn’t help it. The question left your lips before you could stop yourself. You were curious.

Gortash paused, momentary surprise marking his features. “And since when exactly, pray tell, do I discuss political matters with my concubine?”

“It’s just a question. I overheard you passing the bill.”

“You mean you were eavesdropping.”

You frowned. “You knew I was right there.”

“Ah, yes.” He chuckled. But then, nothing.

“So?”

“Protection is expensive, my dear. My Steel Watch requires constant maintenance. Maintenance that requires materials. Materials that cost money.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Pardon me?”

“I’ve seen the documents. You have two vaults at the Counting House. Two vaults that are bulging with gold.” You’d caught a glimpse at the numbers, black ink on a fresh roll of parchment one morning while he’d made you keep his cock warm for him at his desk. You swallowed. “If you truly had the city’s best interest at heart you would be reaching into your own pockets to help out. That is true charity.”

Gortash raised an eyebrow. He appeared amused, if anything. “I am giving the citizens of Baldur’s Gate a purpose. By contributing in the form of taxes, they are contributing to keeping the city and themselves safe. And unlike my own fortunes, tax money is in constant circulation.”

You scoffed. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

“I will not have you criticize my rule, my dear. Were you a lady or an adviser of mine, I could have your head for this without anyone batting an eyelash.”

Too far. You swallowed. So much for trying to convince yourself he was not a villain. “I apologise.”

“Good. Now, as I said. There are six types of pieces in the game. The first—”

Gortash was interrupted yet again. This time, however, by an airborne knife knocking the piece he pointed to straight to the ground where it shattered into a dozen pieces.

“Playing with your whore instead of working? You disappoint me, lordling.”

Gortash stiffened visibly. “Orin.”

Your eyes widened when you turned to face the unwanted visitor. She was as pale as the moon itself, with white creamy eyes piercing your soul. And her clothes…where they made of…skin? She staggered closer on bare feet, retrieving her dagger.

“You’ll find I have made much progress with our operation. But unlike you, I am a man of true entertainment. Uninterrupted murder is not up my alley.”

You blinked. Murder? What in the hells was he talking about?

“You are losing your focus, lordling. Do you need a reminder?”

Before you had processed what was happening, Orin grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you flush against her. The smell of rotten meat and blood filled your nostrils, the blade of her dagger pressing into your skin. Her hands were ice-cold.

You gasped for air, paralysed. You willed your legs to kick her, your fingers to scratch her, your head to shatter her chin…but your body did not obey. Fear wrapped its icy claws around you, preventing you from taking action.

One wrong movement…and you would die. Your eyes found Gortash’s, yours pleading, begging. Surely, he would not let her harm you, surely, he would care if you lived after having shared the bed with him so many times…

“Now don’t be ridiculous, Orin. She’s my concubine. The only thing you will accomplish by killing her is making a mess of my office. I can always get a new one at the snap of my fingers.”

Your face fell, heart skipping several beats in a row. Not because of your fear now—but because it broke. Your lips parted. Was that truly how he felt after you’d spread your legs for him, listened to his sorrows, and kept him company? He’d promised to treat you well. Discarding you to the first bloodthirsty killer—whoever this Orin was—would break that promise after all.

“Well…then you won’t mind if I slit her throat? Bathe in her sweet blood and feast on her intestines? Would you still like to fuck her then, lordling?”

For just a second, you believed to catch a glimpse of actual panic glistening in his dark eyes. It was a fleeting moment, quickly replaced by a mask of steel.

“Orin, no, stop it!”

The woman laughed, the stench of stale blood almost making you gag as she pressed the blade even further against your delicate skin until you could feel a slight burn and something warm and sticky running down your throat.

“Orin!” You had not imagined it. There was panic swinging in his voice too now.

With a start, she removed her dagger from your throat and pushed you. You landed on your hands and knees on the hard stone floor, a pained cry escaping your lips due to the impact.

“With Ketheric Thorm dead, you should be on your guard, lordling. Because right now, your little plan is falling apart. And I am so very eager to spill blood in your chambers.”

“Control yourself, Orin. Ketheric’s death is a temporary setback. Once the Netherstone is back in our possession, we have nothing to fear and everything will go according to plan.”

You felt pathetic, cowering on the cold floor and listening to the conversation. You only understood half of what they were saying. Netherstones? What plan? And who was Ketheric Thorm?

“I will gut you if not, Gortash.” She disappeared in a mist of black and red as if her flesh erupted into a million pieces before evaporating.

Only now did you realise how heavily you were breathing. Gortash bent down, one of his hands resting on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“No! No, I’m not alright!” you exclaimed, biting back a sob.

“You would have let her kill me!”

“I would not.”

“Yes! That’s what you said!” Another sob, one you were unable to hold back. You were trembling. You could feel a small trickle of blood running down your cleavage right between your breasts.

Gortash grabbed a hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Showing her I care for you would have been showing her weakness and that I cannot afford. I apologise you were caught between the lines.”

Care.

“How am I supposed to believe that? Am I not a means to an end? You keep acting like I should be grateful you took me in and gave me a roof over my head in exchange for sex and now I almost…” You did not dare finish the thought. Died.

“You stupid girl. Do you truly think I would keep just any woman around my private quarters where I conduct important city business? Do you think I would share my private bed with just any prostitute?”

“I…I…” You hesitated. He was not wrong.

“I am not the kind of man to pursue, my dear. I learned the hard way you simply have to take what you want in life. I liked you. So I had you brought here.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? Why must everything you do be a power trip?”

“A power trip? Exercising dominance is crucial to survive in this world. I want you here, by my side. Is that not enough? What else do you want me to tell you?”

He helped you up, retrieving a cloth from the cupboard next to a wash bowl. The gentleness with which he wiped at your throat and your chest to clean the blood off of you surprised you so much yet another sob escaped you.

“I…I want you to tell me…you care about me? I’m not just a whore you can easily replace?”

“I don’t want any of the other whores. I wanted you. And I still do. I have no reason to lie to you, my dear. And you care about me too. I can see it in your eyes. You like the things we do together. Am I right?”

You nodded, unable to utter words for a moment.

“I hate myself for it.”

“Oh? And why is that, my dear?”

“You’re not a good person, Gortash. I can see that. I can feel it with every fibre of my being.”

“But…?”

“But…”

He threw the cloth away and cupped your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t…”

He smirked. He understood.

“I will have some servants fetched to run you a hot bath. I have some business to attend to. Then I will join you.”

“Gortash?”

“No.” He lifted a hand, a thoughtful expression decorating his handsome features for a moment. “I want you to call me by my first name when we’re in private. Enver.”

You frowned, lips parting in shock. The archduke of Baldur’s Gate wanted you to…call him by his first name?

“Enver.” You tasted the name on your tongue. It felt strange and yet…oddly familiar.

“That’s better.”

“Who is Orin? And don’t even think about telling me it doesn’t concern me given she just almost killed me.”

Gortash sighed. “She is…the Chosen of Bhaal, the god of murder and a reluctant ally of mine.”

Your eyes widened, shock rippling through you. Bhaal? The god of murder? One of the dead three?

“And who is…was…Ketheric Thorm?”

“The Chosen of Myrkul, a general who ruled over the Shadow Cursed Lands. Another reluctant ally.” Myrkul. He too was one of the dead three. The rumours you had heard about Gortash… Could that possibly mean…

“Go-…Enver…what deity do you worship?”

He smiled at you wickedly. “You have a sharp mind indeed, my dear. You might just be able to best me in a game of lance board in time.”

“Tell me what deity you worship.”

“You already know, do you not? You have asked me before, when we first met. And I am indeed, my dear, the Chosen of Bane. I will lead this city to glory.”

You took a step back, shock spreading in your veins like spiked vines. “What is this plan? What are the Netherstones?”

“That’s enough questions for now. Go and rest. The servants will be with you shortly.” He strode off, yet before he wrapped his hands around the doorknob, he turned his head and said, “Let me say it again: You belong by my side now, my dear. You have my protection. You have nothing to fear from me—or Orin, I will make sure of that. You might not agree with my methods but you cannot fight your own heart. You can trust me.”

With that, he was gone. Another promise. One that the growing butterflies in your stomach hoped he would never break. You belong by my side now, my dear.

You could leave, he had said a month ago. You should leave. Instead, you found yourself heading over to the wooden tub get rid of your now bloody dress.

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leonenjoyer69 · 3 days

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May I hear some HCs in regards to Jekyll and Hyde? 🤣

Of course!!

I read a fic where Hyde played the piano and I absolutely live for that. Jekyll probably got lessons or something when he was younger, but quickly dropped it on account of focusing on his studies. Hyde though? He ABSOLUTELY whips out some killer ragtime songs at bars (or anywhere with a piano OR reed organ, honestly) when he feels like showing off or bringing up the mood. Like, I imagine him to have the same energy as Will Wood when playing (speed and enthusiasm wise, here's a good video for reference lmao)

On the flip side, Jekyll sings/hums to himself when mindlessly doing things (like cleaning up) and when bathing. Usually Scottish ballads, but he's also picked up some more popular British ones from Hyde. Hyde also sometimes asks Jekyll to sing to whatever he's playing, and if Jekylls in a particularly good mood, with some coaxing, he'll give in.

Jekyll had to give Hyde his own little journal so he would stop defacing the journal he kept his experimental logs in. Hyde still uses it, and is actually on his second journal of shitty doodles. He likes to leave it open on pages with mean doodles of Jekyll, or obscene things he knows will make the other flustered, just to get a little rise out of the man.

Hyde has tried bringing some of the nicer street rats back to the society to keep as a 'pet' (he wanted to try and train one to attack and do things he says) but Jekyll has thankfully put a stop to that every time.

Jekyll's eyes before the potion were just a really pretty brown and only got that deep red color after. Surprisingly, no one really asked about it because of how his eyes already shone in the light.

Jekyll starts slipping into his Glaswegian accent when he's super drunk or angry (and when he's more sleep deprived than usual). It also slips into Hyde's voice a bit in high stress moments. At one point, Hyde got hit pretty nasty in the head and could only speak Glaswegian for a good few hours. Jekyll forced him to isolate, as to keep it a secret, and led him through brewing something to help. He didn't complain much about the few things that got broken, but he did scold Hyde for biting off more than he could chew (and for leaving him with such a horrible headache that he couldn't get rid of).

Hyde is surprisingly clumsy when he's not roof hopping. He's the type of mf to fall up the stairs. I'm also a firm believer that he does that ADHD walk thing where he just twists his body around tables and corners and such, along with drifting a bit while he walks (which has made him bump into many people, causing fights). Jekyll on the other hand? Yeah, he's got that high society gait and is super thoughtful about how he moves, but he also just runs into shit. Generally it's when he's alone and/or working (or super tired and weak), but there have been a handful of instances where he did it around Lanyon or Rachel that he still gets embarrassed thinking about (the bloody nose he had one time in front of Lanyon was not fun).

Anyways, that's all I really have rn, thank you for asking!!! :33

#tgs #the glass scientists #jekyll and hyde #edward hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #tgs hyde #henry jekyll #answered asks

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 days

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The Question of Debt

Hi! I've read a few Merlin fics recently where Arthur finds out that Merlin hasn't been paid what he should, if at all, 'cause no-one ever trained him or told him anything about his job. I'd love to see your take on this if you want to write it? With lots of Merlin & knights friendship too. Thank yooou <3 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: merthur

Word Count: 4232

Look, alright, Arthur does try to give Merlin the benefit of the doubt, but when he walks into his room to see him immediately stand up straight, hide something behind his back, and that something is jingling, what exactly is he supposed to do? Well, if Merlin is to be believed, state his business and leave Merlin to his. But when a pouch of coin leads to a confrontation that reaches far beyond their normal spats, Arthur starts to uncover something very troubling about Merlin's time in Camelot.

Well, if Merlin is to be believed, state his business and leave Merlin to his.

”Oh, and you’re King of Camelot now?”

“No.”

“Then what makes you think you can give me orders?”

”That wasn’t an order. It was a suggestion. One you asked for, by the way.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin just grins that stupid little grin that makes the tips of his ears stick out a bit more and Arthur is not being distracted by it, thank you very much. “Did you need something?”

“You’re late. Am I supposed to dress myself?”

”You’d be amazed what most young children are capable of, sire, most of them can actually dress themselves by the time they’re four or five.”

“Merlin!”

“Look, I’m just saying that it’s not a bother if we need to go over it again—“

Arthur picks up a pillow and smacks Merlin on the arm, which makes him laugh, yes, but more importantly it makes him let go of the coin purse he’s holding behind his back. It hits the floor with a clunk. They both look at it. Merlin scrabbles over the bed but Arthur’s faster and snatches it up.

“Hey! Give that back!”

He fends Merlin off with one hand, peeking inside. It’s hardly anything, really. “What is this, your tavern fund?”

“Give it back.”

”Is there something you’re saving up for? A pretty new tunic, perhaps, or one of those reck scarves you’re always wearing?”

“Arthur—“

“Or is this what you’re doing with—“

Whatever he was going to say is knocked out of him when Merlin slams into his side, hard enough to send him stumbling into the wall. His mouth opens in a wordless yell, righting himself and preparing to chew Merlin out because that could’ve hurt, you idiot, what were you thinking—

—and stops when he sees Merlin glaring at him.

Not the play-scowling they do when they’re bantering back and forth, but actually glowering at him like he’s made him angry. It’s enough to throw him off long enough for Merlin to shove the pouch into his pocket and storm past him, mumbling something about how they’re late for things already. He’s left there, staring at the painfully thin mattress with the moth-eaten blankets.

That was…strange.

He gives himself a shake. Merlin got like that about things sometimes, it’s probably not anything to worry about.

***

It’s definitely something to worry about.

Merlin’s never so much as breathed a word about what happened in his room that morning, which is concerning in and of itself. Merlin never hesitates to throw their previous arguments back in Arthur’s face if he thinks it’s deserved—and Arthur will be gracious and humble enough to say it is, most of the time—but he won’t even mention it. He doesn’t bring it up even if Arthur gives him the opportunity, he won’t even acknowledge what happened. And every time Arthur tries to talk about coin, or Merlin’s family, or anything that could be even remotely related, Merlin clams up faster than Gwaine when they say there’s no more ale left.

So, Arthur does what any concerned King would do, and snoops.

Gaius won’t say a word about it, and not in the way he normally does where he says he doesn’t know anything but secretly does. No, instead Gaius gets oddly stern with him. At least, as stern as he ever outwardly gets when he’s talking to Arthur. It’s that strange disappointed-not-quite-angry voice that just makes Arthur feel like he’s a boy again. He tries to sneak in there once when Merlin and Gaius are out collecting pots and nearly gets caught by a patrolling guard and decides that no, he won’t be doing that again.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Merlin and Gaius came back to a cauldron with some sort of potion in it spilled all across the floor. Absolutely not.

Then he goes to ask Gwen. Gwen and Merlin talk about things. Maybe Merlin has talked to Gwen about…whatever that pouch was. But Gwen looks at him with a frown and says that she doesn’t know.

“I’ve never seen him with a pouch like that before. Are you sure it was his? Not someone else’s?”

“He nearly tackled me into the wall over it, that doesn’t sound like something he’d do if it wasn’t his.”

Gwen snorts. “He what?”

“Didn’t work, obviously, he’s not strong enough.”

“Of course not, My King.”

Still, he can hear her snickering as he turns to go.

As a last resort, he turns to the knights.

“I don’t know what that could be,” Elyan says as they take care of their armor after a long day of training, “it’s not like Merlin’s known for hoarding great treasures, he’s not a dragon.”

“Maybe it’s just something of his he wants to keep secret?” Lancelot hangs the training sword back on the wall. “We can hardly begrudge a man his privacy.”

“It was just a small amount of coin. Barely more than a month’s pay.”

“Perhaps he’s sending it to his mother?”

‘“I’ve asked if it’s that, he didn’t answer.”

“Maybe he’s saving it.” They all turn to look at Gwaine. “What?”

”He’s been working here for years, and he’s saved not even a month’s pay?”

“Well, if he’s spending his days in the tavern,” Arthur grumbles and Gwaine laughs. “Are you the one encouraging him then?”

Gwaine laughs again, like Arthur’s made a joke, but when he sees Arthur’s expression, his face falls.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

If Gwaine is hiding something, then this is far bigger than Arthur thought.

He does not follow Gwaine that night, because he is a King and kings do not spy on their knights, but if he happens to be outside Gaius’s chambers that evening when Gwaine and Merlin are also there, then that’s just a coincidence. A very lucky coincidence.

“Arthur told us something after training, you know,” he hears Gwaine say through the cracked door.

A thunk as Merlin sets down something heavy. “What, that he needs his armor polished until you can all see his face in it?”

“That he found you in your room with a pouch of coin.”

The room goes so silent that Arthur starts to fret they’ve vanished into thin air. He holds his breath.

“That’s all he said?”

He winces at how cold Merlin sounds.

“That and he thought you were spending all your money at the tavern.” Merlin laughs at that. It’s a humorless thing. “He doesn’t know, then?”

Know what?

”No,” Merlin says lowly, “he doesn’t. Did you—“

“No one told him,” Gwaine says firmly and Arthur moves as close to the door as he dares, “he thinks I’m the one dragging you there every day.”

Merlin’s sigh of relief is palpable. “Good. That’s alright, then.”

There’s another moment of silence. Then Gwaine shifts and his mail rasps against the table.

“Was it to send to your mother, then? That coin?”

Merlin huffs. “No. That’s all I’ve got.”

“All you’ve got? But Arthur said it was less than a month’s pay, how—“

“A month? What, for him, maybe. That’s all I’ve ever gotten.”

Arthur blinks. And blinks. And blinks again. That can’t be right.

Gwaine seems to agree. “You—aren’t you being paid more because you’re Princess’s manservant?”

“News to me if that’s true.”

Arthur’s heard enough. He moves quickly and quietly back through the halls, sitting down at his desk and folding his hands. The candle snaps and crackles as he stares unseeing into the shadows of his room.

Two things. First, Merlin is not being paid what he should be, clearly. He needs to go and have a word with the steward, find out exactly what Merlin is being paid, how often, and how much he is owed in lost wages.

Second, Merlin is hiding something. Something that at least Gwaine knows, if not the rest of the knights. And it has something to do with the fact that Merlin is not, in fact, at the tavern nearly as much as Arthur thinks he is, if at all.

Sleep comes fitfully that night.

***

”If you glare at that parchment anymore, sire, you’re liable to burn a hole through it.”

Arthur doesn’t care. He’ll set fire to this whole office if he damn well pleases. Especially this rude, blasphemous, audacious piece of paper.

“How did this happen,” he snarls with enough venom to make the steward and even Leon shuffle, “did we not increase all servants to a minimum payment after my coronation?”

“We did, sire.”

“Then explain this.”

“Merlin was not chosen by you initially,” the steward says, voice remarkably even as Arthur glares at him, “he was appointed by your late father.”

“So?”

“So,” Leon continues, “the King’s appointments exist outside the normal agreements for servants. They have their own terms and conditions, including modified pay rates.”

”Show me.”

The steward gets up and goes to a chest of drawers, opening one and rifling through it. He produces a single sheaf of paper and carries it back over to the desk, adjusting his glasses.

“Here, sire, if you would?”

Arthur does not snatch it, because he is a King and kings do not snatch, and the paper was certainly already torn when it found its way into his grip.

Not for the first time, he wishes his father were somewhere he could talk to him, so he could shout about the man’s hypocrisy for serving the people when he would give them a barely-livable wage and call it fair.

“What is a King’s manservant supposed to be paid?” The steward slides another sheet of paper towards him. “Good. Change it to that right now.”

“Right away, sire.”

“And give him what he should’ve been paid before.”

“How much?”

“As much as he’s owed,” Arthur growls.

“We would only be able to excuse that if we went back as far as your coronation, which would be—“

”Fine, fine. Whatever makes it so you give the man what he’s owed.”

The steward looks far too pleased to carry out the order, which just gives Arthur more motivation to shout at Uther, but he pushes that down because he is a King, now, and kings do not scream at people who do not deserve it, if they scream at all.

“Will there be anything else, sire?”

“Not at this time. Thank you.”

”My pleasure, sire, as always.”

Arthur nods and turns to leave, striding down the hall with Leon at his side. The man is as inscrutable as always, not offering any condemnation or encouragement as Arthur mutters to himself.

“Didn’t so much as say anything, idiot, barely a livable wage for someone in the poorest part of the city, honestly…”

Leon doesn’t say a word until they reach Arthur’s chambers. “If I might?”

“Please, old friend, come in.” Arthur all but collapses into a chair and buries his face in his hands. “I don’t—why didn’t he tell me?”

”Merlin is a private person. It’s likely he preferred not to discuss such things, especially with you.”

Arthur peeks out between his fingers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Aside from the fact that you’re his employer, the two of you don’t exactly have the…typical relationship between a king and his servant.”

Arthur huffs. “Which is why I thought he’d tell me.”

“Perhaps.”

“I know that tone of voice, or perhaps what?”

“Or perhaps Merlin didn’t know that something was amiss.”

Now Arthur does sit up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“As the steward said: you did not choose Merlin upon his original appointment. He saved your life and the then King had him assigned to you. He was not trained to be a servant, much less the Crown Prince’s manservant. I seem to remember many complaints when he was first starting?”

“But that’s—but he did get training.”

“Only after he began working for you, and only from other servants who were not experienced with being your servant. The exception to this would be Gwen, but—“

“But I’m not Morgana.”

“Quite.”

Arthur slumps against the back of his chair. The worst part is that it makes a disturbing amount of sense: Merlin fought against him on how he was treated, how Arthur treated most servants, but not about the coin. Because he knew that people deserved to be treated better than that, but he didn’t know anything about how servants were supposed to be paid. And how could he? He wasn’t a servant—he came from a relatively poor village, how could he know? And so when he was asked by the steward originally—and probably with Uther ushering the process along as quickly as possible, he hadn’t known that he could ask for a better wage.

“Damn,” he mutters. Leon hums. “Damn.”

“You have a council meeting in a few hours, sire. The new allocation of funds is likely to be discussed.”

“Wonderful.” Leon chuckles at his tone. “Will you be there?”

“Of course, sire.”

As he goes, Arthur moves to his desk and starts writing out some of the formalities that the steward will need to add to the record. It’s mindless enough work that he starts to wonder about that other half of things. His gaze finds the door where Leon had just vanished.

Did Leon know?

It was almost a certainty. If there was one person Arthur could rely on to know almost everything that happened in Camelot, it was Leon. Something about the man’s quiet nature made him the ideal confidant, not just for the upper echelons but the lower as well. He swears Leon could put together a list of everything he had ever been told in confidence and it would run the length of the city.

So Leon knew, most likely. And with that came the conclusion that Arthur would never, ever be able to get it out of him.

Gwaine was probably the easier bet, but Gwaine isn’t about to come to this council meeting.

With that in mind, he quickly finishes the paperwork and sets it aside before Merlin comes sweeping in to make sure he’s ready. They manage to get there early, for once, and take their places before the rest of the lords come in to talk about whatever it is the lords believe is worth discussing.

“And as the last thing,” the steward says as the meeting winds to a close, “is the budget allocation for this next period.”

“I expect everything is the same?”

“With the exception of the compensation fund we discussed earlier, yes, sire, all the same.”

Arthur nods and moves to close the meeting when one of the lords speaks up.

“Pardon the interruption, sire, but…what compensation fund?”

“It has come to my attention that someone in the castle has not been paid what they are due, and so we are compensating them for their lost wages.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Merlin look at him.

“But surely that is not a sum worthy of factoring into the crown’s budget, so…” The lord trails off as he catches sight of said sum over the steward’s shoulder. He stands up with a horrid screech. “Have you gone mad?”

“Your tongue, my lord,” Leon says lowly, stepping forward, “you will address your king with respect.”

“I’ll address him with respect when he’s not spending a mountain of coin on a single person!” The lord tries to snatch the paper but the steward holds firm. “What is the meaning of this?”

“They were not paid the proper amount for several years,” Arthur says calmly, “we are rectifying this.”

“But this—this—this would put the crown in debt!”

“And any proceedings from a legal standpoint would as well. Or would you rather the crown be taken to a formal trial and then forced to pay owed wages?”

Leon steps up to contain the lord’s fury, but Arthur couldn’t care less. Not when Merlin is looking at him with his mouth open and something suspiciously shiny about his eyes.

He risks only a glance at him before he stands and brings the meeting to a close.

***

”That was good of you,” Gwaine says, quiet enough that it’s hidden under the clang and clash of swords on the training field, “making up his pay like that.”

“It’s what he’s owed.”

”Still.” He wipes his blade with a rag. “Never seen a King stick his neck out like that for a servant.”

“It’s Merlin.”

“That it is.” Their shoulders bump. “Still. Good one, mate.”

Arthur just nods. Merlin is across the field, tending to a table of armor that needs to be repaired. He sees Lancelot, Elyan, and Percival each go up to him in turn, talking to him or ruffling his hair. Even Leon glances over from where he’s supervising a group of younger knights and gifts him with a softer smile.

“He looks happier.”

“He does,” Gwaine agrees, stretching out next to him, “he’s sleeping better too.”

Arthur whips around. “How would you know how he’s sleeping?”

“Whoa, easy, Princess,” Gwaine laughs, “not like that. He’s finally bought himself a proper mattress, that’s all. Heard him talking about it with Gaius this morning.”

“Oh.”

Gwaine chuckles. “Don’t worry, none of us would dare.”

“You’d better not.”

“Oh, I like myself intact, thank you very much.” He sniffs. “Not that you’d actually manage to do that much damage.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Gwaine shoves him lightly and they both laugh. It trails off and they go back to watching the men train. At least, ostensibly they’re watching the men train. Really they’re both watching Merlin.

”I wish he’d told me,” Arthur says, almost too quiet to hear. He knows Gwaine does by the way he hums.

They look at each other. Arthur searches his expression for a long moment. Gwaine’s eyebrow twitches.

Tell me, he pleads silently, please, tell me.

Gwaine doesn’t say a word.

With a sigh, Arthur looks back at Merlin. Their eyes meet across the field. Merlin’s brow twitches in a silent you alright? Arthur nods. Merlin grins.

With a grunt, he heaves himself to his feet, readying his sword to go and relieve Percival from his bout with Lancelot, when Gwaine catches his arm.

“Arthur.”

“Yes?”

“Next time you and Merlin go on a hunt, don’t kill anything.”

He frowns, a thousand questions building up on the tip of his tongue, but he nods. Gwaine nods back and loudly goes to make a nuisance of himself.

“Sire,” Elyan says as he approaches, “is everything alright?”

“Fine, fine. Shall we?”

“Ready when you are.”

***

“I still don’t understand why you insist on these hunts,” Merlin grumbles as he shoves something else into a pack, “it’s not like we don’t have food in the castle.”

“Maybe it’s not about the food, Merlin.”

“Oh, so you just want to go kill something. Should’ve guessed.”

He cuffs him lightly upside the head. “Just get the horses ready.”

Merlin grumbles something unflattering about Arthur’s resemblance to his horse as he goes. Gwaine’s words turn over and over in his mind as he packs up the crossbow. He truly isn’t planning on killing anything, but the woods aren’t exactly free of dangers. At the very least, if there are bandits that decide to attack them.

Merlin can say all he wants about not enjoying hunts, but he can’t hide the way his shoulders slump when they leave the walls of the city. He has that terribly earnest and whimsical look on his face as they make it into the woods, the breeze ruffling his hair and the birds calling out from the trees. Arthur has to remind himself to look where his horse is going and not just stare at Merlin the entire time, but Merlin’s not exactly looking at him either, so he can get away with it.

He may have claimed this was a hunt, but Merlin hasn’t seemed to notice that they’re not hunting anything. They pass more than a few obvious deer tracks that Arthur completely ignores and any smaller game like rabbit scatter well before Arthur could so much as reach for the crossbow. Instead, Merlin is in a little world of his own, marveling at the forest like it’s the most splendid thing he’s ever seen.

Arthur supposes he can’t talk, that’s how he’s looking at Merlin.

Eventually, he calls for a break near the river. Merlin just hums and gets off the horse, taking the bit from its mouth so it can graze, and loosening the saddle’s girth. Arthur sets the pack on the ground and rifles through it for their water skins.

“I’m going to fill these up, set up the rest of camp.”

“But we haven’t caught anything yet.”

“No harm in taking a rest, is there? Though if you want to keep going—“

“No, no, rest is good.”

Arthur chuckles as he heads off through the trees, listening to Merlin bustle about behind him. He manages to get down to the river in a few short minutes, holding the water skins under a small waterfall to fill them.

”Hey,” he mutters to himself, “so I’m glad we sorted out the thing with your pay, but now apparently there’s something else I don’t know about. What is it?”

Yeah, like that would work.

“The knights know something about you and I’m worried it’s similar. What is it?”

Also not likely to work.

“I’m worried about you and also quite hopelessly in love. Help.” He scoffs at himself. “I’d have better luck telling my father I want to court a servant.”

He mutters half a dozen more to himself, each worse than the last, before he realizes the sun is going down and he’s been ‘getting water’ for far too long. He drags his feet through the brush as he goes back, still muttering, when he hears something from the direction of their camp. Instinctively, he crouches and reaches for the dagger on his hip.

He peers around a tree and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

Merlin is sitting in the middle of camp with golden tendrils of magic—it must be magic, it couldn’t possibly be anything else—creating a suspended web of leaves and flowers in a sphere around himself. Butterflies flit around him like he’s some forest nymph. His fingers move and twirl through the air and it responds to him like a living thing. Arthur is speechless.

Merlin has magic.

Merlin had magic.

And it’s beautiful and incredible and so very Merlin and Arthur is done for.

Just as he’s coming to the conclusion of how irrevocably bollocked he is, Merlin turns and sees him.

The yelp he makes is heartbreaking and all the things crash down around him as he scrabbles away. But he goes too fast and ends up flat on his back, staring at Arthur with his eyes so wide he can see the whites all the way around. Arthur quickly decides that this is unacceptable and Merlin is never allowed to be scared like this, and so he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Merlin doesn’t move.

Slowly, so slowly, Arthur starts to make his way across the clearing. Merlin flinches and bites his lip to stifle his whimpers whenever Arthur accidentally snaps a twig or crushes a leaf. It takes an age and Arthur’s shoulders ache by the time he makes it, but then he’s standing over Merlin and he reaches out a hand.

Merlin takes it. He can feel it tremble.

Carefully, he pulls Merlin to his feet. The poor thing still looks so scared and Arthur wracks his brain for something, anything he could say to make this better, let Merlin know he would never, that it’s all going to be alright…

But he’s never been particularly good with words.

Actions, on the other hand…

Telegraphing his movements so Merlin can stop him, he cups the side of Merlin’s face, feeling his jaw tremble. With a courage he does not feel, he leans in.

Merlin makes a surprised noise when he kisses him, but slowly, slowly, he kisses back.

Camelot could go to war, bandits could ambush them, Uther himself could stride into the clearing and Arthur would tell him to wait.

They break apart but dare not separate, still breathing the same air. Arthur swallows heavily and pulls Merlin closer.

“I’m going to legalize magic.”

Merlin’s breath stutters against his cheek. “You’re—you what?”

“I’m going to legalize magic.”

“So…you’re not going to kill me?”

“No. Never.” He tangles his fingers in Merlin’s hair. “I would sooner throw myself on the sword.”

Merlin huffs a strangled laugh. “Will you kiss me again?”

Arthur doesn’t hesitate.

Gwaine is never going to let him live this down. But he’s the King, so it doesn’t matter.

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #dragonbabbles #fic

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le-artpotat · 5 months

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It's not safe to be at school at night, Junpei's still lurking the halls...

#i bit off more than i could chew with this one #it looks unfinished but im so done with it lmao #lesson learned #my art #anyways this is what i imagine spirit Junpei would look like #at least his first stage (hehe i have made loooore)#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk junpei #junpei yoshino

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beif0ngs · 5 months

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CROSS⚔️GUILD

Cross Guild was originally gonna be founded by me and Hawkeye. So why are you being branded as the boss then huh, Buggy?!

#One Piece #opgraphics #Buggy #Crocodile #Dracule Mihawk #Cross Guild #*mine #wow i actually felt bad for Buggy lmao #poor pathetic clown def bit off more than he could chew this time

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clarkgriffon · 2 months

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BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER + Episode Titles in Dialogue

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sillyrabbit81 · 4 months

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Henry Cavill as Solo

The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015) | Dir: Guy Ritchie

@giftober 2023 | Day 16: Tropes (tvtropes)

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weeklyhiiai · 21 days

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hiiai week day 3: thermometry / promises - ☄️

#hiiai #hiiai week 2024 #enstars #ensemble stars #hiiro amagi #aira shiratori #art #admin ☄️#i bit off way more than i could chew with this one i went Insane. this is what thermometry does to you. it changed lives

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mimusbirds · 8 months

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Day 7 - tomorrow And just for that, I reckon I'll stick with you... to the very end

#mimus art #ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers #Ardbert #Ofelia #Ofelia Hesh #Ardbert Hylfyst #Ardbert Week #final fantasy 14 #a little late but i bit off more than I could chew for one day

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venmotif · 9 months

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ur art is soooo pretty !!! if ur requests aren't super full i'd love to see u draw arashi :) im a huuuge fan of arashi and mika besties and your mikas are so pretty

two pretty best friends <33

experimented w palettes again

#i. bit off more than i could chew w this one #mfs took me 7 and a half hours all together but I love them #鳴上嵐 #影片みか #mika kagehira #arashi narukami #art #nemeraki #digital art #enstars #ensemble stars #why is tumblr not letting me tag shit #shitass website #fr mika wanted me DEAD drawing him was hell compared to arashi

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lycanthrowup · 2 months

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@sugarpasteltmnt chapter 21 spoilers

I think u got something on your face buddy

#rottmnt #i think i bit off more than i could chew with this one #i never want to look at a ferris wheel again #my art

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dunnedsparce · 5 months

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Throwback to this picture I took on my way up towards Snowpoint when I first moved here

#pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pokemon #rotomblr #lycanroc #unreality #sparce speaks #rockruff #//mighta bit off more than I could chew with this one but it's not bad

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the-prussian-nap · 9 months

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Day 23, Dreams

Emmet dreaming of his future friend and dream job!

#monthofemmet #submas #subway boss emmet #emmet #kid submas #eelektross #Emmet was probably one of those kids that knew exactly what he wanted in the future #which good for him #It’s good to have something to work towards #I am verry late and behind #i haven’t skipped day 21 and 22 I just bit off more than I could chew and tried to make a comic strip type of thing for the first time #so im just failing behind lol #anyways #I remembed those old post from a year or two ago where emmet had the Eelektross equivalent of Blåhaj #which I wish was real because I want one soo badly #so I thought it’d be cute if the reason Emmet had an Eelektross was because of his childhood toy #truly best friends forever #Naps art

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dr3amofagame · 4 months

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hot take: las nevadas four does not queue up a c!q redemption arc. las nevadas five makes some interesting forays in the direction of comeuppance but fails to make the narrative link between that comeuppance and, ultimately, any change. the reason for this is because the prison arc is inadequately integrated into ln4 and ln5. (i'm writing an ln5 essay rn and this is my prompt for you to join me in hell)

i think people who think LN was heading towards a c!quackity redemption arc were tripping fr 😭 like it's not that i would oppose the idea of c!quackity like, even heading in a different direction. but he didn't? he literally didn't. his interactions with c!slime were never examples of c!quackity realizing the dark course he was taking and changing his ways--if anything, they were a reason to double down? he makes a literal slime army in LN5 like. a literal slime army.

i feel like it comes from this misconception that c!Quackity's whole deal revolves around how he ~cares~ for people, and when he felt betrayed and whatever by the fiances and such then his heart froze over and he went for ambition instead. and therefore learning to care for something can unfreeze his heart and make him good again, or something (<- oversimplified). but c!quackity's deal isn't that he closed his heart off to love? like c!quackity's issue is that he's terminally insecure and therefore kinda terminally self-centered--even in c!karlnapity, he was frequently portrayed as being insecure as hell about c!karlnap and preferred when the attention was on him. when c!karl was freaking the fuck out at him in LN4, his immediate reaction to c!karl like having literal memory loss was to scream at him.

all of this is way oversimplified for the record but it's like.

like, c!quackity and c!slime isn't about redemption as much as it is giving c!quackity an opportunity. and what we largely see, honestly, is c!quackity caring about c!slime...and also grooming him to be like, the successor of his country, seeing him as something malleable that he could use to create another version of himself. it's not that c!quackity was necessarily seeking to harm c!slime, but was he being manipulative? i mean, yeah???

and yeah, for sure, LN4 and especially LN5 heavily suffer from a lack of the prison being properly addressed. the prison and c!dream in specifics haunts c!quackity throughout the entirety of LN--any conclusion to this arc no matter what direction c!Quackity took needed a proper resolution to the prison imo ???

like i don't hate purpled's revenge quest, but bringing it back to purpled-quackity-slime Again in LN5 after the conclusion of LN4 made that all hit a lot less hard. i liked the c!punz scene tbh and i also liked c!dream's ditching las nevadas, but that also feels a lot less impactful when he had like, five lines and barely a confrontation (fuck the internet connection there FR). like, c!Quackity rejecting change isn't bad in itself, but it feels like later parts of las nevadas emphasize his decisions less in favor of what's done to him, and what's done to him doesn't feel enough like a consequence of his own actions. furthermore, so much about Las Nevadas and the Prison (the revive book in specifics) has everything to do with self-centered ambition moreso than revenge, and it feels like that in particular gets kinda poorly addressed? like, the deal with c!Purpled doesn't have to do with revenge, he's not really taking revenge on Purpled--he is, however, ambitious and doing everything that he thinks will make Las Nevadas Great, and the whole thing with him still continuing doggedly on LAS NEVADAS!! even after alluvthat is much more of a commentary on his relationship with power and ambition than on revenge.

this is kinda scattered (like the LN finale LMAO!) but yeah. las nevadas is literally created as a response to imprisoning c!dream, the beginning of this arc happens in parallel to the beginning of his visiting the prison, so having c!dream play as small as a role as he did in the latter two streams really ends up hurting the arc as a whole when so much emphasis had been on c!quackity and ... violence? both outside of the prison and inside it. having c!quackity come to terms with the fact that he does in fact suck fell kinda flat without properly addressing the ways that he actually does suck...? anyway yeah not the best essay kat dorry

#my asks !!#kat :D #disk horse #<- not really it's just kinda crit ig #c!quackity crit #like las nevadas has a lot of loose threads in General but in a lot of ways it dropped the ball on some of the most important ones #and also im lowkey a c!slime hater on principle lmao #the acting was well done but i think a preoccupation on c!quackity and c!slimecicle in the fandom and in the actual series #led to a failure to address what was most important to the story being told #because all of it just turned into ohhh c!quackity cares about c!slime but he hurt him and now c!slime is telling him why he's a bad person #and it's like. okay and #all this being said i dont hate las nevadas including the final stream #i just think that i bit off more than it could chew a little and then prioritized what it needed to address weirdly

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