#merlin drabble

[xardiee]

what if merlin told arthur about mordred

I haven’t watched the show in a while but a scene like that is running through my head.

merlin is stressed and unhappy in s5 for obvious reasons and arthur notices bc of course he does. right after another questioning of “I haven't seen you smile these past three days” merlin just snaps, lets out a frustrated sigh as he mutters. “you wouldn’t believe why even if I told you”

and arthur holds in the mocking joke that’s on the tip of his tongue noticing just how serious his friends looks, how sullen and strained and frankly all he wants back is the childish banter between the two of them that’s held him together all these years so he nods. “try me.”

and merlin reluctantly tells him because he’s tired, so damn tired of keeping so many things bottled up and he doesn’t want to imagine a world where arthur is no longer here because he was too afraid to say the truth. so he tells him with a promise not to get angry at first and then “a sorcerer in a cave showed me a vision that revealed mordred is to be your bane”

it sounds ridiculous even to his own ears.

and of course arthur doesn’t believe him at first bc does he ever, he scoffs in response, laughing about how merlin’s jokes aren’t funny. “it is not a joke, he’s dangerous.”

arthur realizes he’s serious and then he’s no longer smiling, instead insulted, annoyed his friend would question the loyalty of a knight—a kid who’s saved arthur’s life. “you know better than to believe the word of a sorcerer.”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” is all the warlock says before excusing himself.

and arthur doesn’t believe him, how could he? after all magic and sorcery has done to his family, he is suddenly supposed to take one’s word for it over his trusted knight? someone who has saved and fought for him countless of times. it doesn’t make sense.

but the way merlin looked at him before storming out plays back in his head like an annoying nightmare. utterly lost, exhausted and desperately pleading with arthur to believe him or at least take heed to what he revealed.

and he never wants merlin to look at him that way again.

so he wonders…what if—

and then angst, more arguments, longing looks, angst, arthur in an internal dilemma did I mention angst

#merlin #bbc merlin #bbc arthur #arthur pendragon #merthur #merlin fic #merlin drabble #⚡️.merlinrants #I wrote this in like 2 minutes leave me alone

[xawkward-ariesx]

Sometimes Merlin wondered if he'd done something to piss off the triple goddess because he could think of no other reason that on top of being a powerful wizard in Camelot - where such a thing was punishable by death - and the personal manservant to the Prince of said kingdom, he'd also drawn the short straw when it came to soulmates.

Not everyone had a soulmate but your chances were increased if you had magic. And even if you did have a soulmate, that didn't mean you'd have the gift of being able to hear each other's thoughts. It was supposed to make it easier for soulmates to find each other but Merlin didn't consider it a gift when he'd been taught to shelter his thoughts since he was a child, such a skill that was even more essential now he was in Camelot and constantly performing illegal magic. He had to censor himself a lot.

He wasn't always successful.

"Stupid Prince, maybe I should just let him die. See how he likes it."

"Excuse you! You can't say that." His soulmate's voice rang through his head, garbled as always like he was hearing it from underwater.

"What's it to you?" Merlin shot back. He wasn't about to be reprimanded for his thoughts by a stranger. They were the one intruding after all.

"It's regicide!" His soulmate squawked outraged.

Merlin rolled his eyes at the mental shriek returning to his task of collecting herbs from the forest for Gaius.

"Its not regicide, I'm not going to kill the Prince. He's just stupid and reckless. He always ignores the signs and one day I'm not going to be there to save his royal backside and it will be karma for his idiocy when he dies."

The voice spluttered, "Save him!? You can't talk about a member of the royal family like that. Who are you?"

"None of your business." He answered sharply shutting the flap on his satchel now that he had everything that he needed.

"I'm your soulmate!"

"So?" He was picking his way through the forest to head back to the castle barely paying the conversation any mind. "Doesn't mean your entitled to know my life."

It was actually safer for Merlin that his soulmate not know anything about him. He couldn't risk exposing himself or endangering his soulmate by proxy because his mere existence was technically illegal.

So with that he consciously shut off his end of the mental connection. He'd still be able to hear his soulmate but they'd get nothing from him.

"Oi! You can't do that, I'm still talking to you." The words were muffled even further now that Merlin's end was cut off. It was rather satisfying, like shutting a door in someone's face when you no longer wished to continue the conversation.

"You can't ignore me like this!"

Merlin began to hum to himself as he crossed through the lower town to drown the other voice out. Eventually they settled into petulant silence and Merlin was able to drop off the herbs to Gaius before returning to his duties for the Prince. It was just in time for lunch so he went to retrieve his food before making his way to Arthur's chambers.

Arthur was scowling from his desk when he let himself in. Arms crossed over his chest as he glared at nothing, Merlin would almost say he was pouting, but he kept that thought to himself.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked not caring about decorum.

"My soulmate is ignoring me." Arthur grumbled, shooting him a sharp glare. As though it was Merlin's fault that his soulmate didn't want to put up with his prattish ways when, Merlin didn't even know who it was so he could hardly be to blame.

"That must be awful," Arthur seemed to untense minutely at Merlin's words before he continued. "I can't imagine having you for a soulmate. I wonder which unfortunate princess was stuck with such a fate."

"Oi! You can't talk to me like that, Merlin. I'm the Prince."

Merlin snorted at the familiar retort as he set the table for the Prince in question's lunch.

"And we don't know that they're a princess." He grumbled so softly it was almost as though he was talking to himself.

"Why not?" Merlin frowned.

Arthur let his head fall back against the top of his chair with a sigh as if Merlin was intentionally asking a ridiculous question, which he didn't think he had.

"The chances of having a soulmate are slim, the chances of them also having the mind link are even fewer. There are just over twenty kingdoms in Albion, and less than that that have any princesses to speak of. It's just unlikely that my soulmate is a princess."

"You don't know that that though. Have they told you they're not a princess?" Merlin pointed out, trying to helpful if only because Arthur was less likely to throw something at him if he was in a better mood. And definitely not because he looked like a kicked puppy, nope, not at all.

But if anything this just seemed to intensify the Prince's glower.

"No they won't tell me anything about them. Apparently its none of my business." He rolled his eyes.

"Even more likely that they're royalty or at least nobility and are hiding it from you then."

"Shut up Merlin."

Merlin huffed, "I was just trying to get you to stop sulking you prat."

"Princes don't sulk Merlin and I don't want to talk about it."

"Whatever you say sire, lunch is ready."

#Ace writes #merlin #merlin drabble #TAoM drabble #Arthur Pendragon #Merlin Emrys #Arthur Pendragon drabble #Merlin Emrys drabble #Merthur #merthur drabble #Merlin x Arthur #soulmates #soulmate drabble #procrastination drabbles #this is unedited #i just like the idea of a soulmate bond where you can hear each other's thoughts but the angst of that

[itsmakingyoucry]

"I have trouble thanking people.

It's difficult for me to express my gratitude, and it only becomes more difficult when it's you. How am I expected to communicate my gratitude to someone like you? Someone who did so much for me?

Despite this, I must try. I must try to express the love, admiration, and joy you have brought into my life. I will most likely fail. I'll say the wrong things and I will do the wrong things, but I need to try- So, for you, I will.

Merlin, you are one of the only people in my life who showed me what it is to love. You selflessly and without expecting anything in return, loved me. You showed me life in a new way, you taught me what it was to fall in love with someone. You taught me that it was right to trust people. You brought peace to my mind. You soothed my nerves. You were my friend.

My first friend. My first love. My right hand. My idiot.

You- you saved my life. In more ways than I could imagine. In more ways than you could imagine.

I cannot think what my life would be without you. I'd imagine it would be dull and gray since you were my light.

And now you're gone. The light is gone, I am standing in a pitch-dark room, and you aren't there to light it up for me. I cannot reach for your hand anymore. I cannot look to you during boring council meetings. I cannot wake up to you anymore, nor can I go to sleep with your smiling face in mind. You have slipped out of my grasp- and the stupid thing is, I'm still reaching for you! I am still grasping for any fragment of you left, and I find them, but they aren't you.

I will never be able to find enough fragments of you to piece together, to make you whole, to make you mine again. You are gone. And everything hurts, everything is dark again.

Life is dark again."

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merthur #merlin fanfiction #merlin fandom #merlin emrys #merlin drabble #merlin x arthur #angst #grieving #grief

[pendragonsclotpole]

The story goes like this: Arthur dies, and Merlin grieves, and then…

Merlin does not die.

Merlin should die. For the ten years that Merlin has lived in Camelot, he has not lived as Merlin.

His existence had always been as the lesser half of a greater whole. Even the name Emrys failed to cover the depth of who and what he had become. The moment Merlin stepped foot on the castle grounds and met the then-Crown Prince, he accepted the inevitable whether he knew it or not. From then until the end of time, and maybe even longer than that, it would always be Merlin-and-Arthur.

This was the promise of the dragon. Merlin-and-Arthur were part of some greater destiny. They had not entered the world together, but they would live together and they would die together.

The death of Arthur feels like the cruel facsimile of a tragedy that has already happened. The pain burrows into him like a splinter beneath his nail. Blood pools into the crevices of his flesh, the nail bed turns black, and the splinter scrapes across his bone with the screeching cry of a creature he is sure he has already defeated.

When the infection grows too big, when the pain spreads and the splinter turns into a spear, and Guinevere visits him in her gown of dread, only then does Merlin pull out the splinter. In her arms he bleeds out. His life force stains her dress, and his tears run down her hair and he sobs against the life that grows inside of her, the last remaining proof of the thing that once was Merlin-and-Arthur, but can no longer be.

Merlin does not die. Not then or the day after or in 500 years or in a thousand years. Not today or tomorrow or the day after that. Merlin lives because there is no other choice and because whatever survived the death of Arthur is no longer Merlin. Death cannot touch a thing that no longer lives.

He learns this the day Arthur’s son dies in a hunting accident. The boy having barely lived to be thirty. They carry his bloody body back in the same wooden carriages Arthur refused to ride in. The boy, though truthfully no longer a boy, is as pale as the day he was born. A silent thing that almost hadn’t lived if not for Merlin and the spells he wove and cast even as he felt the pull of the world’s magic inching toward a slumber. The boy had lived, and for thirty years Merlin believed that perhaps Arthur’s son would be the King whose reign would last lifetimes.

The boy died, butchered like a pig, gutted by a stag. His crown the antlers that split through his chest. He did not die in the peak of battle. He did not perish from the poison of his enemies. He lived in the peak of an age of peace and prosperity, though mired by tragedy.

Guinevere-the-Queen commands he be buried in the crypt below the castle of Camelot. Merlin carries his body, places him into his coffin, brushes the strands of gold spun hair out of eyes that no longer see, seals the lid, and does not think about the empty coffin that rests right past it.

When Arthur died, Merlin had not returned to Camelot with a body.

This did not change.

Not when Guinevere begged.

Not when the Council demanded.

Not even when, five years after, a young prince slipped past his guards to sneak into the crypts and talk to the place that should have held his father.

Merlin remembered finding him there, hours later, half the castle in a panic. He felt not a single ounce of regret. Merlin does not die.

Arthur dies a thousand deaths. The body that slipped into the lake was not the body that once held the King, and the King the realm mourned was not the King Merlin knew nor the one that existed.

They had been Merlin-and-Arthur longer than Arthur had been King or married to Guinevere and certainly longer than he had ever been a father. No one could understand what Merlin had lost. He learned quickly to never apologize for that.

The boy should have lived. He does not live. And Merlin does not die.

Arthur’s granddaughter rules for sixty years. Her reign is long and prosperous. She is but a babe when her father passes, little more than a girl when her only brother passes, and a woman grown with children when Guinevere finally passes.

There is joke somewhere in this.

Merlin spent the early part of his adult life expecting to help a King usher in an era of greatness. Instead, he has seen a great king die, buried a boy of a crown prince, and served two queens whose reigns are never forgotten.

(Later, much later, in an effort to keep an eye on the latest Pendragon, Merlin will enroll in a class on Arthurian history and legend. Arthur’s time is spoken about in length, with a level of wonder and despair. Guinevere’s with more reservedness. There is awe to her rule as there is bewilderment at her betrayal. But it is Arthur’s granddaughter who stills an entire class. It is the drawings of her crown and her laws that they admire. It is her death he carries in his heart for almost as long as he carries Arthur’s.)

Arthur’s granddaughter abdicates from the throne at ninety-seven and she dies in her bed at the age of ninety-nine holding his hand. She dies having outlived her mother, and her grandmother, and her brother, and her husband, and a son and a grandson. She has lost more than he has ever held and Merlin finds after thousands of years of living that she is the only one who ever understands.

When she dies, Merlin carries her quiet body down into the crypts, places her into the coffin, brushes away grey strands of hair, and kisses her on the cheek. He stands for a moment, and kneels before her.

When he closes her coffin, and lets the door of the crypt close behind him to herald her death at last, Merlin does not die.

He cannot die. He had delivered her into the world, a squalling babe with no idea of all she would do and see and live. Merlin has spent his entire life watching the people he loves die. Each time it has always been his fault. Each except for her.

She, in the lifetimes of thousands, is the only one he has ever and truly served. She is the one he had never failed. But she is also the one that has never needed him.

She had not needed him to live as her father had. She had not needed him to breathe life into her or to follow her into battle to protect her. She done that on her own.

When she dies, Merlin does not die. Merlin leaves.

He comes back, but he never stays for long.

The reign of her second son is not long but it is prosperous. It has no need of him or of a magic that fades away with each passing day.

Merlin spends the next 100 years burying the Pendragons, but he never attends the birth of another one. He tried, once, a few months after the death of Arthur’s granddaughter, but the moment he’d entered the room, the ghosts of a lonely crown prince and a dying queen followed. The prince died for a life he thought he needed to live. The queen lived for a man that does not die. Merlin cannot bear it.

He still buries each of them. The son of Arthur’s granddaughter, and his son, and his daughter. He carries their bodies down, places them into their coffins. Adjusts the crowns on their heads, brushes away their hair. He kisses their foreheads and wonders what it must be like to die.

Then he leaves.

They ask him to stay anyway. All of them do. Those Pendragons. They ask too much of him. They ask him to walk beside them. They ask him to tell them stories. Stories of Arthur and Guinevere and Arthur’s son and granddaughter. They beg him to help them, and when the groups from the east invade, they ask him to fight for them.

He does not.

The reign of the Pendragons cannot be his burden to bear. He bore it once and when it ended, he failed. The one that mattered most was no longer alive and the one that followed had not needed him to live or die.

Merlin hides away in some village and ignores the letters that are sent to him. He pretends he has died.

He regrets this later.

He regrets it when the Pendragons are butchered and Camelot falls in a battle that spills more blood than he has ever seen, all without an ounce of magic.

He regrets it when he walks upon the carnage and does not die.

He left so he would not watch them die, but this? This is worst than being alive.

The blood of the babes with the look of Guinevere stain his hands. Their screams should haunt him. Their ghosts should curse him. Their lives should still be here, by his side.

But they are not.

Merlin carries each of their bodies, places them into the coffins, brushes away the strands of their hair, kisses their foreheads, and he does not die.

He lives. He seals the crypts so that they may never be disturbed, and then by some miracle he finds the last Pendragon left alive, now no longer a king or a prince or anything so valued. He finds that this may be the best way to help them survive, and they leave the Pendragon name behind. He raises this last Pendragon as his own son. When eventually it comes time for Merlin to either disappear or fake his death or change his appearance, he leaves. For a year or maybe twenty. He lets the memories of him fade away and eventually those that know the truth die.

When Merlin eventually returns it’s always an act of masquerading as so-and-so’s son or grandson or younger brother.

Spells come in handy, but Merlin thinks some of them know more than they let on. They never say—most are too polite and thankful by a large margin, others possess too much of Arthur’s belligerent kindness and care more for his love than his truth—but they know. Merlin does not die.

Merlin just is. He is half of a twin soul. He is bereft of his very being. He is the leftover parts that Death never wanted.

But he cannot stop caring.

He welcomes as many Pendragons into the world as he buries them. He watches the centuries pass by and does not die.

Arthur has yet to come back to life, but every so often a descendant inherits his eyes or his ears or his hair and Merlin accepts that though he cannot die, this is how one stays alive.

(His favorite hobby is attending the history classes that speak of Arthur’s granddaughter. Hers is the one death he never mourns.)

Title: And I Buried You in the Crypts of Camelot

Notes: just a little something I keep wanting to see in a longer fic.

#merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #fanfic #fanfiction #king arthur #arthur x merlin #arthur x guinevere #arthur x gwen #merlin drabble #arthur pendragon

[remuswriting]

in these private moments; mercelot

Summary: Merlin holds all his secret close to his heart. Lancelot loves him no matter how many secrets Merlin shares.

Pairing: Merlin/Lancelot

Rating: T

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Canon Era

Word Count: 762 words

Note: The only thing I have finished in months lol.

read on ao3

Something Lancelot has had to learn is that Merlin holds his secrets close to his heart.  He holds them so close that his secrets are safely wedged between his ribs.  He won’t expose anything that will produce a consequence.  Although he’s revealed secrets to Lancelot through tears and guilt consuming him whole, there’s still so much left unsaid.  This makes every moment like this with Merlin a blessing.

Merlin’s head is in Lancelot’s lap.  His hair is in need of a trim and fans onto Lancelot’s trousers and out of Merlin’s face, making it easy for Lancelot to see the light freckles scattered across Merlin’s noise.  His eyes are focused on his spell book.  Only recently has he been able to get it out while Lancelot is around.  That fear of judgment and rejection fades as the days pass.  He no longer hides himself from Lancelot, but asks if he wants to stay while he studies.

Merlin looks at him when Lancelot brushes stray hairs out of Merlin’s face.  His eyes are the bright blue that make clear Camelot skies pale in comparison.  He’s so pretty, especially when he smiles at Lancelot and presses his cheek into the side of Lancelot’s hand.

“Do you mind,” Merlin starts before looking back at the spell book. “Is it okay if I work on a spell?”

“Of course,” Lancelot says, and a thrill rushes through him.  He loves when Merlin does magic in front of him.  He loves hearing Merlin speak the language of the Old Religion and the way his eyes shine bright gold, resembling all the treasures Lancelot could ever be offered.

Merlin holds his secrets close to his heart, his magic being the main one, and Lancelot wants to tell him he can share it whenever he wants to.  He wants to tell him that he wants him to share it.  He wants Merlin to share that secret with him.

Merlin looks at him, eyes tracing Lancelot’s features to see if there’s any hint of a lie.  He slowly sits up, and the space he’d been laying in Lancelot’s lap grows cold.  He gets up, putting the spell book on the bed next to Lancelot (still open to where Lancelot can see the writing inside), and goes to get something from the corner of the room.  When Merlin turns around with it, he sees a bucket, which he’d always assumed was Gaius’s but had been locked away in Merlin’s room, treating it as a makeshift storage room.  The bucket is filled with dirt.

Merlin picks up his spell book, and there’s a hesitant look on his face when he looks at Lancelot.  Lancelot simply nods toward the bucket, making Merlin softly smile.  He turns his attention back to his spell book, extends a hand, and says something Lancelot doesn’t understand.  Nothing happens.  Merlin’s brows furrow as he mumbles something to himself and then retries.  This time, the dirt slowly turns to mud before becoming clear water.

Warmth spreads through Lancelot’s chest from how Merlin’s eyes glimmer gold, even if it fades quickly.  His smile only grows when Merlin grins, looking over at him so excited.  Almost as if saying, “Look at what I did.” Doing magic has always made Merlin light up and let him relax, almost as if he can finally breathe as all the tension leaves his shoulders.  He’s so beautiful that Lancelot wishes he could capture him in a painting so he’ll never be able to forget what he looks like.

“You did it,” Lancelot says, pride filling his voice, and he can’t stop grinning.

Lancelot yearns to pull him close and kiss him.  To kiss him until they have to stop.  He wants to hold on to this moment for as long as he can because he fears it’ll be fleeting.  He moves and grabs Merlin’s wrist, pulling him closer.  The spell book falls to the floor as Merlin willingly comes.  Merlin’s smile makes their first couple of kisses clumsy, but then he properly kisses Lancelot back.  Lancelot holds Merlin’s face in his hands as Merlin steadies himself by holding onto Lancelot’s shoulder as they kiss again and again and again.

Merlin holds all his secrets close to his heart, and Lancelot knows he’ll never be able to know all of them.  He knows Merlin will never be able to share all of them.  But in these moments, where it’s just them and their love filling the air they breathe, he’s okay with it.  He’s okay not knowing every secret Merlin has as long as he has him.

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #lancelot #merlin drabble #mercelot

[minim236]

Requesting Arthur x Gwen and #49

Leon went to see Arthur about a sighting of a beast

He heard a thud.

"Arthur?" He called out, knocking again.

He worried, opening the door and was surprised to see a soaking wet Arthur and Gwen.

“Well this is awkward…” Arthur remarked.

"Apologies, I heard something." Leon said, looking between the two. He had a feeling the prince and Gwen had affection for each other but this was odd. The bath was turned over.

"This is not-" Gwen began

"Her laces were undone-" Arthur's voice overlapped with hers as they fought to explain away this

"We're not-

"She's been over worked and fell-"

Leon held up his hands, "Never mind."

#arthur x gwen #bbc merlin #merlin drabble

[friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn]

hi Laurie idk if you're taking requests atm but if you are, would you write a little tidbit about some comfort with gwaine? just some fluff. I could use it rn lol

Hiii my requests are like, permanently open lol

Warnings: none, pure fluff

“I’m telling you,” Gwaine said between fits of laughter, “you can’t even imagine his face when he saw what colour Merlin had turned his hair.”

You reached back to swat his chest. “You should have told me! I wanted to see that as well.”

Gwaine leaned forward, draping his strong arms over your shoulders. His face was almost directly beside yours, and his hair brushed against your cheek. “Sorry, love. Next time, I’ll ask Merlin to send you an invitation.”

You leaned back against his chest with a happy sigh, patting his thigh. “You better, pretty boy, or I’m holding you accountable.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Despite knowing he couldn’t see your face, you raised an eyebrow. “Are you mocking me, sir Gwaine?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he whispered, before pressing a kiss to your neck.

Yeah, he was definitely mocking you. But as long as he kept kissing you as well, you couldn’t care less.

#requests #merlin request #merlin #asks #answered asks #gwaine x reader #gwaine #drabble #oneshot #merlin drabble #merlin oneshot #reader insert

[thefollow-spot]

Arthur woke to a land of innocents tortured and children slaughtered. At the helm, this blight-sorcerer whose evil drew Arthur from the lake and put the golden sword back in his hand—Albion at great need.

Even learning his name, Arthur hadn’t expected how little he’d changed. Close now, Arthur’s sword outstretched, the sorcerer was young with deathless eyes.

The throne room was pristine. Well kept. Prepared for this confrontation where the sorcerer seized Arthur’s sword by the blade. Blood welled in his fist as he moved Excalibur’s point to his throat.

“Go on, Arthur,” Merlin said. “Let me sleep.”

---

["Untitled" (Catalyst Destiny) on AO3]

#bbc merlin fanfic #bbc merlin #merlin fic #merlin fanfiction #merlin fanfic #drabble #merlin drabble

[multifandom-fanfic-writer]

based on this fic in which King Arthur knows of Merlin's magic and has, quote:

"You knew, and you appointed that half-wit as your Magician?!

imagine being that court magician.

at first you’re very confused you got picked when there are so many better candidates. maybe you think the king is even trying to double-cross magic users, but he doesn’t. you get a job you are Not Qualified ForTM. the first time you're asked to demonstrate your power to the court, you panic and try something big. it fails, and you feel your power faltering - only for the spell to work, not quite like you intended, even better than you intended. everyone is awed, surprised - no one more than you. you don't know what’s happening but you want to keep your job and also your head so you pretend it was you all along. the king gives you an amused glance out of the corner of his eye. his manservant stands behind his shoulder, a little too close to be proper. no one comments on it.

this keeps happening. not always, no; you actually not completely incapable. sometimes you manage fine. with camelot's resources, you even grow a bit, teach yourself to be better, determined to live up to your own reputation. you get help. the people of camelot are a friendly lot; even the king's manservant sometimes gives you tips, useful tips, citing a childhood friend being a sorcerer when you question him how he knows. he seems very earnest. you smile.

but a lot more times you know; someone else is doing this. you don't know who. you start to become paranoid; a healing spell failing, but the woman opens her eyes nonetheless. your magic can only save a few trees, not the whole forest, but somehow it regenerates anyway. an assassin throws a knife at the king; you react to late, but the knife bounces of harmlessly anyway. you get praise, thanks, start to build a reputation. it's completely undeserved. you keep feeling more and more nervous. the king is shooting you far too innocent smiles. you quiver.

who could it be? who is always near you, in these instances? the court, mostly; but it also happens one day when you ride out with a small entourage to stop a beast plaguing the nearby druid camp. could it be a knigt? a thought occurs to you; maybe it's the king himself. he's the only one whose been present for this happenings consistently; well, him and that manservant of his. the thought grips you, installing both fear and awe; a warrior and sorcerer both, respected in both fields? sly and humble enough to keep one of them secret? he must've hidden it all his life. your respect grows.

and then, out of nowhere, the king calls you to his office. you go, hands sweaty. he welcomes you in and sits you down. his manservant brings you wine. their gazes catch, and you see the king's eye soften with love. it seems the rumours are accurate.

then the king tells you he will be appointing a new court sorcerer. you freeze, terrified; you’ve finally been caught. but the king does not seem mad. his words are gentle. he offers you a position as the court magician’s assistant. you breathe out slowly, shoulders sagging. it feels like mercy.

will you be finally revealing your magic then, sire? you ask. the king laughs, deep and hearty. the manservant is smiling and waves his fingers. his eyes glow gold. the jug of wine rises from the table by itself and pours the king another glass. he takes it without hesitation.

#merthur #merthur drabble #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin fic #merlin drabble #outsider pov #based on a fic #drabble #multi writes #might fully write this fic one day... if anyones interested (and my muse cooperates) #merlin fic rec #its a great fic btw i based this on

[hopelessromantic5]

“You would choose Merlin over your sovereign?” Frustration was present in his tone but it gave no indication of what Arthur wanted the answer to be.

So, instead, Leon told the King the truth.

“No, sire. We would choose Merlin because you are our sovereign.” Arthur was taken aback at that. “If we allowed any harm to befall Merlin, even by your own hand, you would never forgive us, Arthur.”

At once, Arthur knew Leon was right.

#merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur fic #merlin and arthur #Drabble #want to write this with a magic reveal possibly

[dollopheadsandclotpoles]

He just looked so pitiful. I've never seen Arthur look like that.

#merlinedit #bbc merlin #mine #merlin #bbcmerlinedit #guinevere #merlin emrys #guinevere pendragon #colin morgan #angel coulby #gwen #besties!! they so cute #also I wish Merlin had actually seen Arthur like that #anyway I'm a bit bummed about getting like a total of (1) reblog on that drabble I did so making this to cheer myself up

[ink-through-her-veins]

When Arthur gets sick he gets quiet. He goes about his routine, even if it means he sweats out a fever during a council meeting and nearly collapses during training. He’s done this since he was a child and his father never believed he was sick.

“You’re fine Arthur.” “Suck it up, Arthur.” “If your that sick go see Gaius.”

Secretly he always wanted someone to mop his brow and stroke his head while he sips on tea and broth, but he will die before he admits it.

Merlin had always been nursed by his mother. He knows her secret recipes to sneak gross herbs that make him feel better into chicken stew with enough salt that it tastes like warmth and love. He has a favorite book with stories of old myths that he can nearly recite from memory but only when reads when he falls ill.

So, when Gaius tells Merlin that Arthur looks sick and needs to be escorted to his quarters and forced to rest, Merlin grabs his mother’s book. He gets tea and stew from the kitchens and all but forces a sweaty pale Arthur into bed. Then he pulls a chair next to the bed, tea and stew sitting on the nightstand within Arthur’s reach and begins to read aloud.

Arthur’s confused, but he’s tired and Merlin’s voice is soothing. He drinks his tea, eats his stew and closes his eyes.

When Merlin runs a cool cloth over his forehead, he knows what it feels like to be cared for. When he awakens to Merlin slumped in the chair, asleep but still keeping watch his heart flutters.

“Merlin,” he whispers softly, nudging Merlin to waken him. “Go to bed. I’m fine.”

And Merlin, sleep deprived or half asleep still, Arthur can’t tell, puts a hand to Arthur’s forehead. He’s still sweaty but not burning up. Merlin mops his brow and climbs into Arthur’s bed like he belongs there. Arthur’s always wanted to be cuddled and he can blame it all on a fever and Merlin. When Merlin falls asleep, Arthur lays on his chest and lets Merlin instinctively wrap him in his arms.

A week later, Merlin falls ill with the same cold and he loudly whines and complains until Arthur grabs the book of myths and all but pushes Merlin into his bed.

#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #headcannons #merlin emrys #it’s flu (and everything else) season #sick Arthur #fluff drabble #merlin fanfic #ITHVmerthurficlet

[arthurpendragonssassydaggers]

Hear me out the whole sun and moon thing from Arthur’s pov except he does see Merlin as the moon and himself as the sun.

You can’t get to close to the sun without burning and even though the saying goes “they look at you like you’re the sun.” You can’t actually look at the sun without it bringing you pain, squinting your eyes and looking away. You can wish for the sun when it’s cold but to much of it and you get aggravated and wish it would go away.

But when the moon is out you could stare at it for hours without an ounce of pain. The moon is refreshing after a tiring day out in the sun. The moon doesn’t bring pain it, doesn’t hurt to be around. When a moon is full and bright it’s beautiful to look at.

Merlin is the moon to Arthur not because he thinks he doesn’t shine but because he doesn’t burn.

#Did I cook? #there are probably mad spelling mistakes but oh well #Idk what to call this #A Drabble maybe? #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin #merthur #might delete this later idk

[teefscrubz]

The first thing Merlin notices is Arthur's face peering out from the tent. Around him, knights roar with laugher, jostling his shoulders in an attempt to draw him into the festivities—and just this once, in the wake of war, Merlin decides to acquiesce.

He raises a tankard, clashing it with the others and chuckling as Gwaine spills half of his drink on the dirt. He can feel Arthur staring; he chooses not to stare back. Just this once.

And Arthur is indeed staring. He stands in the opening of the tent, far enough from the fire that he feels the cold night chill, and watches in silent fondness as his knights share one last night of joy before the inevitable bloodshed that will greet them in the morning. He watches as Elyan laughs hysterically at Percival's impression of their fierce leader, unaware of Arthur's presence. He watches as Leon snickers and smiles in Arthur's direction, silently inviting him to join.

Through the drunken laughter and rowdy companionship, Arthur watches.

Because though his knights fill the scene, all he sees is Merlin.

#drabble #merthur #merlin x arthur #theyre gay your honour #merlin #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #writing #ficlet

[intotheseas]

my boyfriend, playing HL

MC: Could it be? A Merlin Trial?

Him: Could it be? A waste of time?

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy incorrect quotes #hogwarts legacy drabble #merlin trials #idk about anyone else but i never bothered

[aetherdecember]

Look, I love BBC Merlin and how they told the lore, but I’m a sucker for the relationship between Arthur and Mordred in the mythology. Specifically, I love how Mary Stewart (author of The Arthurian Saga**) and Nancy Springer (author of I Am Mordred**) wrote about the father/son relationship between them. So naturally, my brain has been conjuring up how I can include that in my Flipping the Coin au.

Since the main premise is Merlin died/Arthur lives, and now Arthur is the one waiting for Merlin to come back, things would stay consistent with canon up to the last episode (when Merlin flips the coin of their destiny and sacrifices himself so Arthur can live and thus stop Camlann from happening altogether). Which is where this idea will start:

Gwen is barren. She and Arthur never have kids. Eventually, everyone Arthur knows and loves dies. He can’t rule Camelot forever, and after Gwen’s death, he no longer wants to, so he fakes his death and wanders off figure out why he’s still here. He never gets an answer for that. Arthur spends the next millennium waiting. He keeps living. He meets people, experiences things he’d never experienced before, and learns things he’d never dreamed of learning. He can’t stay anywhere long, or else suspicions will rise, but he gets to see the world change, how technology advances, and witness humans continuing to be humans. When war breaks out, he joins the battle. It’s familiar. The rush of adrenaline is the same whether he’s wielding a sword or a gun. Only, he can’t see the enemy’s face anymore.

Peace comes again. At some point, he sleeps with a woman, and she happens to become pregnant. Bisexual disaster that he is, he’s had all sorts of partners from both sexes, but has never had this happen, even before the advent of reliable birth control. Later, he’ll learn her name is Morgause. She doesn’t look like the Morgause he knew before, nor does she act like her, but her name haunts him. After the baby is born, she gives him to Arthur, says she has no intentions of being a mother, and leaves. The last thing she had said to him was the baby’s name.

Mordred.

That night, Arthur holds Mordred and weeps.

There is irony in his son being named Mordred. First, in that the legends surrounding him, Merlin, Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and all of it, had long ago decided Mordred was his son. And two, in a retelling of that legend, it had aptly phrased what he sensed was happening now. Granted, he isn’t a sorcerer, he doesn’t have magic, so he can’t support his feeling with anything other than he’d been around a long time and knew to his very core that it was true. Mordred’s birth is a signal of the beginning of the end.

Fatherhood brings him a new sense of purpose. Gone are the days of loneliness and drudgery. Every day with Mordred brings a new light into his life. Each smile is a miracle. Seeing Mordred experience things for the first time brings a new appreciation. Being there to watch him grow makes time fly like it never has before. But Arthur is afraid. He doesn’t want to be his father. He doesn’t know how to be a father, or what the right way to do it is. In all the years he’s been on the Earth, he’s never known a man who could concretely say, “This is the way to raise a son,” and actually reap the fruits of their efforts. Too frequently, he’d seen sons grow outside of the visions their fathers molded for them and receive only disappointment and disdain in return. So he was afraid, because he too had been that son.

*cue a series of fluffy father/son one shots of Arthur raising Mordred until Merlin comes back, takes one look, and is is like WTF????? No, I won’t have Mordred for a step son >:(*

**Mary Stewart and Nancy Springer have several other works, not just the stories I mentioned. The ones mentioned are the ones I’m pulling inspiration from ^^

Additional notes below the break:

Guinevere’s barrenness is not a headcanon I typically subscribe to for BBC Merlin. My headcanon is that after Arthur’s death, Gwen gives birth, and their child eventually succeeds her as ruler.

I’ve always seen Mordred’s appearance as the harbinger of Arthur’s downfall. Thus, the reason for the plot bunnies in my brain going crazy with this idea of how I could bring him in, still remain mostly canon compliant with BBC Merlin, and build off some of my favorite parts of the lore. (Mandatory disclaimer: for BBC Merlin, I don’t headcanon Mordred as Arthur’s son. But for the mythology, I do wholeheartedly support that canon.)

Arthur’s choice to participate and live once Camelot is gone is a decision to contrast my headcanon of how Merlin handled it. I don’t think Merlin thrived. I think he stayed busy, and tried to remain hopeful, but I think he was anxiously consumed with the anticipation of wondering when Arthur would come back. In this au, Arthur may or may not know that Merlin is supposed to come back (I’m still working on that detail), but he’s always been around others. I think he would seek camaraderie, and companionship, and that he would connect with others but only to a superficial level. I don’t think he’d exist in a void of loneliness. Plus, he doesn’t have the guilt of knowing he failed because the pressure from the prophecy is very one sided *coughcough*causemerlinnevertoldhim*coughcough*

Anyways, that’s enough rambling from me about this. I’ll probably share some snippets of writing next because there are some fantastic scenes coming together in the draft so stay tuned! ;D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #mordred #flipping the coin #my drabbles #arthurian mythology will always be my jam #you can tear this au from my cold dead hands but it will live on #merthur #for the Merlin not wanting Mordred as a stepson joke the last Mordred he knew turned on them to join Morgana #as far as Merlin is concerned they’re the same person #he’ll come around eventually once Arthur fills him in on everything #btw Arthur’s son Mordred is unaware of all of this #he’s having to process his dad - who has never really been interested in anybody for any reason - is completely besotted with some guy #once he learns this ‘some guy’ used to be his father’s servant it does not make things better #but by then he’ll have learned enough that it does clear things up #he’s actually a big fan of Merlin #he just wasn’t prepared for love sick puppy dog Arthur 24/7 now that Merlin’s back