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aecs-multy · 1 year

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Secrets are (not) meant to be kept secret

Summary:

He acted by instinct. He was already talking in the dragon tongue before he had time to think things through. The only thing Merlin knew was that one moment a wyvern was attacking Gwaine and the next the creature was scurrying away in the direction it had come as Merlin had commanded.

He could already see the Triple Goddess welcoming him into the afterlife.

Merlin just wanted to get as far as possible from the ruined fortress. He had been on edge since they had dismounted their horses, his magic telling him that something was dangerous here. But of course Arthur wouldn't listen, instead making fun of Merlin and his 'funny feelings' even after all the times he had proved himself right.

The sun hadn't already set, but it wouldn't be long before the darkness surrounded them. Merlin resigned himself and kept alert as they entered the ruins they had decided to camp on for the night. Lancelot walked by his side, sword at the ready as he knew what it meant when Merlin was on edge, and gave him an apologetic smile with a shrug of his shoulders. Merlin was thankful that at least someone believed him, although by the worried looks that Gwaine was constantly shooting around, Lancelot may not be the only one that had listened to him. The rest of the knights walked without much care, only a hand on the hilt of their swords just in case. It wasn't long before they found a room big enough for all of them to rest comfortably, and Merlin went to get something to burn a fire for the night.

"Have you found the monster that lived in the ruins yet, Merlin?" Arthur asked when Merlin returned. The rest of the knights chuckled at their banter, everyone already settled while Merlin started lighting the fire.

"For a second I thought I had found a troll, but don't worry, sire, it was just you," Merlin said with a smirk, even if the feeling of danger wouldn't disappear from the back of his mind.

Gwaine's chortle sounded the loudest through the room at the astonished look on the king's face, but everyone's laugh stoped the moment a loud screech was heard in the distance, and Leon asked, "What was that?"

The six knights moved fast as they got to their feet, unseating their swords and watching the entrance the sound had come from.

"That was a pheasant," Gwaine said, a nervous smile on his face as he glanced at Merlin before looking back at the entrance.

He almost wanted to laugh at the memory of their time in the perilous lands, but the wyvern that entered the room stopped him from reminiscing of the past. Soon, other two followed the first one, screeching and groaning while they cautiously approached their group.

The odds were in their favor, but Merlin knew better than to let his guard down around the winged creatures. With a roar of one of the wyverns, the battle begun, but it wasn't until Percival's sword pierced the last one that the warlock allowed himself to relax. No one seemed to be dangerously injured, so Merlin let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, that wasn't that hard, was it?" Gwaine said, moving his head to get his hair out of his face and turning to grin at Merlin. "They just were really big pheasants." Despite his careless demeanor, he was panting from the effort of fighting the creatures.

Merlin was about to reply when he saw a fourth wyvern coming out of the shadows of the other entrance, behind Gwaine, and his face paled. As the wyvern threw himself at the knight, Merlin knew that Gwaine wouldn't be able to react in time, to defend himself against an attack from his blind spot.

He acted by instinct. He was already talking in the dragon tongue before he had time to think things through, and the words came to him like second nature. The only thing Merlin knew was that one moment a wyvern was attacking Gwaine and the next the creature was scurrying away in the direction it had come, as Merlin had commanded.

No one said anything, and only the sound of the cracking fire disturbed the silence. Merlin's hands started trembling as terror took hold of him when he realized what he had just done, but most importantly, in front of whom.

"I-" he tried to say, but his throat was closed and not another word would come out. I messed up, he thought. The trembling of his hands started to spread throughout his body with every beat of his heart. He looked around him, each knight with a different emotion on their face. Arthur was still looking at the space the wyvern had been a moment before.

Merlin wanted to talk, to say something, but the words were stuck. With every second of silence the panic he felt only increased. "I'm- I- I'm sorry," Merlin managed to get out after several tries.

"Who are you?" Arthur asked, his tone so soft he wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the loud silence. He was finally looking at Merlin, and it pained him to see the look on Arthur's face, as if he were watching someone else and not his best friend who had accompanied him to battle countless times.

"Merlin?" It was Gwaine's turn to talk when Merlin didn't answer the king's question, but the knight didn't look at him with disgust or uneasiness. He saw only worry in his features and a caution usually reserved for frightened animals, which he supposed wasn't very far from the truth as his shaking continued.

He didn't know how to answer Arthur. He was the Merlin Arthur knew, but he was also Emrys and the Once and Future King's other half. He was magic and a Dragonlord. But Arthur only knew one of those because the rest were a secret he had kept to himself for years now. Instead, he said softly, "I have magic."

Arthur made a chocked noise that took hold of Merlin's heart and squeezed until it felt like it was breaking apart.

Merlin startled when a hand landed gently on his shoulder, so focused on Arthur that he hadn't noticed Lancelot coming to his side. "I think we should talk," Lancelot said, giving Merlin's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"You knew," Arthur breathed out. It wasn't a question, but a statement, betrayal and pain clear in his voice as his face started to turn red with anger.

Merlin's gaze caught Gwaine's, and his reaction to Lancelot's interference was similar to Arthur's, the same betrayal and pain, but instead of anger he found a sea of sadness on his brown eyes.

"I did. I have known since the day we defeated the griffin," Lancelot admitted, voice loud and clear where Merlin's had been a mere whisper. "He didn't tell me, and if I had found out today like the rest of you, I wouldn't blame him, because it's a secret that could cost him everything. However, he risked everything when we fought the griffin and used his magic, and thanks to that I survived back then, the same way it's only because of Merlin that Gwaine is still with us now."

Merlin felt his vision turn blurry with unshed tears, but he forced them away, as he tried to push through the panic. Lancelot was trying to help him and he couldn't break down now, not when Lancelot would be accused of treason along with him if things went wrong. "I only use it for you, Arthur. For Camelot," Merlin said, voice slightly less unsure, but still pleading for him to understand.

"You're a sorcerer," Arthur said, spitting the last word with disgust.

"I was born with magic, I didn't chose to," he said in reply.

Their attention was pulled away from each other when Gwaine started to walk towards Merlin. For a second he feared his life would end before he had a chance to explain himself. However, no blade pierced his heart. Instead, two arms encircled his body and a voice whispered next to his ear, "Nothing has changed for me, you're still my truest friend, bog man."

It took his brain a second to realize that, at least, he hadn't lost Gwaine, and that is all it took for the tears he had fought so hard to contain to spill out as he returned the embrace.

"Gwaine!" Arthur's voice sounded disbelieving, and Merlin couldn't blame him because he hadn't expected someone to welcome him with open arms after they discovered their secret either. And yet, Gwaine's arms around him were proof that he still cared about Merlin, even now.

Gwaine pulled away from the embrace, but kept close enough to put an arm around Merlin's shoulders as he stood next to him. "What did you want me to do, princess?" Gwaine said. "If a friend tells you a secret that has him fearing for his life, the knightly thing to do is to support him, isn't it?"

Merlin felt Gwaine's shrug of his shoulder through the arm around him. Arthur's mouth started opening and closing, but when nothing came out of it he groaned in frustration and started pacing while he run his hands through his hair in desperation.

A few minutes passed where no one talked and everyone let Arthur organize his thoughts. Meanwhile, Gwaine kept Merlin close while rubbing his shoulder, something that he felt comforting even if the threat of an axe cutting his neck or burning in the pyre still haunted his thoughts.

"Talk," Arthur finally said when he stopped, jaw clenched and gaze hard.

It was a chance to finally lay it all out in the open, and Merlin did. He told him about his magic and how he was using it before he could even walk. He told him about coming to Camelot, to learn how to control his magic without just following his instinct. He told him about bandits and magic beasts that could only be killed with magic. He told him that magic didn't corrupt, that it was each person that chose how to use it. When he finished with one story, he went on to the next, finally free from the weigh on his shoulders that was his secret.

"-killed Nimueh after he tried to trick me and sacrifice Gaius instead of me-"

"-I freed the dragon, but I didn't know Kilgarrah would-"

"-told me that Balinor was my father and, when he died, I turned into the last Dragonlord-"

"-you from the Sidhe Sofia and his father when they tried to-"

"-tried to heal your father, but Agravaine put a-"

They had all sat down around the fire when Merlin had started talking, and by the time he had finished several hours had passed. The knights had asked questions and listened with an openness that Merlin could have only wished for, nodding from time to time as if the pieces of an incomplete puzzle where finally fitting in and they could at last make sense of it. Neither Gwaine nor Lancelot had moved from his side and they offered words of support when his emotions became too much and he had to stop for a bit.

Through it all, Arthur was quiet. He stared at Merlin with an intensity that made it impossible to look at him for too long, although he noticed how he flinched at certain parts like when he mentioned Balinor's death as well as Freya's.

"How many times?" Arthur asked, and he must have seen the confusion in Merlin's eyes, because then he clarified, "How many times have you saved me or Camelot?"

Merlin opened his mouth, but then frowned and stared the fire. "I don't know. I never counted them. It wasn't about how many times I protected you. It was just about keeping you, and everyone in Camelot, safe, regardless of the number of times I had to do it."

Arthur nodded just once at the answer and the silence returned once again to the room. Everyone seemed to think about what Merlin had been saying, each of them in their own world with pensive looks.

He felt a hand over his and turned to look at Gwaine, who was looking at him with affection and pride, making his heart race once again, but this time not in a bad way.

"No matter what happens, I will always be by your side, magic or not. Besides, I'm already planning some pranks that will need your help," Gwaine said as he bumped their shoulders and interlocked their fingers. Merlin's grin was genuine for the first time in what seemed decades.

It had happened slowly, he realized, but as he spent more time in Camelot and started to have more friends he loved and had to protect, keeping his magic a secret had started to weigh him down more than it ever had before, because he didn't want to lie to the people he cared about.

Now he was finally free of that weight and still had friends by his side no matter what, like Gwaine had said.

"Thank you," Merlin said in response, trying to convey his gratitud with just those two words and rubbing Gwaine's had with his thumb.

When Arthur stood and walked towards Merlin, he was ready for whatever he was going to hear, or at least he thought so.

"Merlin, I..." Arthur stopped talking to let out a deep sigh before getting on one knee and putting one hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I'm sorry you couldn't tell me sooner, or anyone else-"

"Arthur, it's not-"

"Yes, it is my fault, Merlin. And even after hearing you, there is still a voice in my head saying that magic is evil," Arthur said, and Merlin could see how much it hurt him to admit that. "You're my best friend, and it pains me to see how much you've suffered because of me. It's going to take some time until I can silence that voice, but I promise you that no harm will come to you because of who you are as long as I'm the king of Camelot."

"Are you saying...?" Merlin said with a trembling voice, not wanting to get his hopes up, but unable to stop himself from doing so.

"Yes, Merlin, you won't be executed nor banished, and I'm planning on lifting the ban on magic," Arthur said with a roll of his eyes, and Merlin threw himself at his friend to hug him. Surprisingly, Arthur returned his hug, even if just for a few seconds before he pulled apart. "You're such a girl."

When he looked at Lancelot, he had one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen in him. He was lucky to have them as friends.

The other three knights that had refrained from interfering while they talked, walked towards them and congratulated Merlin, giving him a few pats on the shoulder and back.

For the first time in his life, Merlin felt truly happy. Soon, he wouldn't have to hide anymore. He would be able to do magic freely and talk about it without being constantly on alert and hiding who he was. His friends knew what he was and they had accepted it.

"It will take time, though, before we can change the old laws for new ones if we want to avoid chaos," Arthur said, but not even that could spoil his happiness.

"Your father only needed one day to create them, so do it fast, Princess," Gwaine said with a teasing smirk.

"And look the mess he left me," Arthur said waving his hand in Merlin's direction, "a useless manservant that wouldn't be so useless if he could use his magic."

"I don't care about the time it takes," Merlin said with a wet chuckle, trying to stop the now tears of happiness with the sleeve of his blue shirt. "I have waited my whole life. I can wait a bit longer."

"Well then, everyone, lets get some rest and we'll talk more tomorrow," Arthur said, and everyone listened to him.

Merlin wouldn't be able to sleep even if he wanted to with the amount of energy he had in his body, so he chose to watch after their group in case another wyvern or some other creature appeared. He leaned on a wall and hugged his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees while he looked at his friends with a smile that wouldn't disappear anytime soon.

"So, apparently you're the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth." Gwaine said as he sat down next to him.

He didn't reply, just smiled with everything he got. No more holding back.

Gwaine answered with his own grin before running his hand through Merlin's hair, what got him a shove. It felt good to go back to their camaraderie as if nothing had happened.

"I believe I haven't thanked you yet for saving me, oh great Emrys," Gwaine said, and his smile turned genuine, filled with warmth.

"You don't have to, I did it for selfish reasons," Merlin said. Gwaine's acceptance mattered to him in a different way than the other knights', because the way he cared about him was different. He hoped that the words he had said conveyed the meaning of the words he hadn't.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gwaine said after a bit, expression more serious than before. "Were you worried that I would have turned my back on you?"

Merlin turned to look away from his face, gaze unfocused. "No... well, yes, but it wasn't you I was worried about. Not really," he said with a sigh before glancing at Gwaine out of the corner of his eye to watch his reaction. "Since I was a kid, my mom has constantly warned me about keeping my magic a secret from others, and even when I came to Camelot Gaius always said the same thing as her. It didn't matter who it was, the fear was always there even if I trusted all of you with my life. It was something I couldn't tell anyone, not just you.

"I knew that Morgana had magic and yet I didn't even dare to tell her. It may have been an irrational fear, but it's difficult to forget about something that has been carved deep into your mind, the same way it's difficult for Arthur to forget about his father's warnings about magic, no matter how irrational it may be." Merlin started playing with the hem of his shirt, waiting for Gwaine to speak. He wanted him to understand that it wasn't because he didn't trust the knight.

"I understand, I just... wished that I could have helped you somehow," Gwaine said as he took Merlin's hand in his and interlocked their fingers. "I know that Lance was there for you, but I hate that I wasn't." he admitted in a soft voice. Gwaine's free hand reached up to cup his face and he leaned into the touch subconsciously as his thumb brushed Merlin's cheek.

"From now on, count on me for anything you need, alright? I don't care what it is. Even if you need me to run naked in the forest for some ritual, I'll do it," he said with a chuckle, "I'll do it for you." His words caused Merlin to blush, and Gwaine seemed to be delighted by that.

"Thank you, but I don't think there are any rituals that require someone to run naked in the forest," Merlin said.

"Well, I know of a certain ritual that requires nakedness, from both parts involved," Gwaine said with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and Merlin felt his blush deepen, but then Gwaine's eyes lost their playfulness as he leaned in slowly, giving Merlin a chance to move away. When he didn't, Gwaine's lips soon met his in a kiss that was far too innocent and chaste for it to come from someone as flirtatious as the knight, but it still made Merlin's heart race and a shiver to run down his spine.

"I have wanted to do that for a very long time," Gwaine said when he broke the kiss, resting their foreheads together. "Will you show me? Your magic?"

The question caught him off guard and he leaned back to watch Gwaine's face, making Gwaine's hand fall from his cheek, but he didn't see any hint of doubt or a joke. "You want to see my magic?"

"I want to know everything about you, and that includes your magic," he said with a reassuring squeeze to his hand.

"Okay," Merlin said as he thought about something he could do to impress him, but being careful not to scare him away either. When he saw the sparks from the burning fire in the center of the room, and idea came to his mind. He pulled from his magic as he extended his hand in the direction of the flame and sent it that way with the intent of giving it shape. A small dragon formed from the sparks, flapping its wings experimentally before flying towards the two of them and landing in front of their feet.

Merlin heard the gasp that came out of Gwaine's mouth and when he looked at him he had an awe stricken expression on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit because of his smile. When he reached to touch the little dragon the creature exploded in a thousand of sparks that floated around them, reflecting on Gwaine's eyes and illuminating the space the two were in.

"Your eyes," Gwaine said in a breathless tone with his mouth slightly ajar, "they're- you're beautiful."

"So are you," Merlin said before leaning in for another kiss, just because he could, and Gwaine seemed to want it too as he reciprocated in kind. This one was less chaste than the first one, but it was still full of affection as Merlin and Gwaine explored with their tongues each others' mouths. When they broke apart they were both panting and Merlin's hand had found its way to the back of Gwaine's head through his hair while Gwaine's was on Merlin's back, pulling them closer together.

"I want to court you. Properly," Gwaine said, "even if I don't know what I'm doing." Gwaine was biting his lip with a kind of nervousness that he had never seen in the knight before.

"You don't need to worry about anything. I will always want you, even if our attempts at courting each other end up in disaster."

"Wait, our attempts?" Gwaine said as a smirk started to grace his lips, the nervousness from a second ago banished from his expression.

"Of course, you didn't think that I would do nothing while you courted me, did you?" Merlin said with a grin.

"Then shall we make a bet and see which of us makes the other fall in love faster?" Gwaine said, a playful touch in his eyes.

"I don't think you should make that bet as you're bound to lose," Merlin said with a cheeky shrug of his shoulders.

"And why would that be?" Gwaine said playing along.

"Because I can make that cheese that tasted of apple pie you once dreamed about..." Merlin said as he gathered all the sparks around them on his outstretched hand and willed them to take the form of a piece of cheese, "with my magic." He felt giddy just by being able of saying something like that out loud without fear and he was almost afraid that he would wake up from at any given moment.

However, he didn't wake up, and, as Gwaine grabbed his face with both hands and joined their mouths in something that was more lips pressed together than a kiss, he could only look at the future with hope as he listened to Gwaine murmur something along the line's of 'luckiest man to ever walk the earth'.

#merlin #merlin bbc #merlin x gwaine #merwaine #magic reveal #merlin's magic reveal #emotional hurt/comfort #happy ending #protective gwaine #protective lancelot #fanfiction #merlin fanfic #gay

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fic-ive-read · 1 year

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atdawn · 2 months

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— Merlin 3.04 (Gwaine)

#colin morgan #merlin #bbc merlin #merlingifs #ee #gifs #m #no wonder gwaine stayed and tried to protect him and fell in love w him and fu #sorry i got carried away

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mysticsublimeperson · 3 months

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I have a Merthur AU idea!!! I have this Outlander-ish idea

Summary: What if Merlin crosses to another dimension, where the time runs differently and it’s left there, to fend for himself what to him it’s like 15 years but to the knights are just a couple of days. When the knights finally cross to rescue him they find a really hot, 30 ish Merlin that is a dragon rider and a badass and has been constructing the circle of rocks and designing spells and runes to come back to them..

Snippet of sorts:

They were investigating a new wave of new and different monsters they, (Arthur, Merlin and the knights) find themselves in front of a huge megalithic monument, it’s so big that to surround it would take a bit too much effort, just because they are all tired of riding and not finding ANYTHING even if the reports all point to this specific forest.

So they all are in front of this huge rocks and Merlin says that they should go around and NOT across because it doesn’t feel right to cross it, inside the circle the grass is tall and the flora grows freely, weird because it means no one have entered, no animal, no person… even the horses seem to be uneasy there. But the stones are clean, no moss.

Merlín feels a disturbance in the balance, the magic is exited but in tension, like waiting for something to happen. A drop to fall.

“I just… this doesn’t feel right Arthur” Merlin said growing desperate, the tension was starting to get to him. “This seems old, and unbothered, we should not be the ones to cross it, it may be a trap” he had come down of his horse because it wouldn’t get close willingly. That felt like a limit, a border, a huge sing that said DO NOT CROSS.

“You know what Merlin?” Merlin prepared to be mocked, but he honestly didn’t care if it got them out of there. He crouched, and took a little branch from the floor. Surrounding the stones he could see something, he moved the dirt to find runes. They were old. Unbothered. He could not recognize much. Some were familiar but not the same. Until…

Respect.

Eternal.

Rest.

Shit. This could be a grave. A grave of someone powerful. And this someone was asking for respect in his rest. And even dead, everything alive was still afraid of retribution.

“You are right, we will not be the first crossing this huge stupid thing…” Merlin could have cried in relief. He jumped to his feet and turned around, almost clashing with Arthur, who had got off his horse and walked up to him when he was distracted, and this huge mischievous grin in his face “You are” Just a tiny push in his shoulder, it’s all it took, it was almost comical.

“Arth…”

Merlín got up with a spring and his expression was relieved and free, and transformed into one of fear so quickly, it made him want to reach and stop his fall, to ask for forgiveness. To say that it was only dumb a joke.

Arthur could feel his blood freeze, and the time seemed to slow down. And between a heartbeat and the next Merlin was gone.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

He wanted to believe this a joke. But it couldn’t be, he seen it with his own eyes.

“MERLIN!” He shouted surprised of how desperate his own voice could sound, before he could give another step his knights stoped him. “MERLIN!” He screamed again while Percival pushed him out of the way, far from the circle.

Gwaine stepped up to the point where Merlin had been, he hadn’t left anything. The only thing that could ever hint that he had been there were his footprints in the soil.

“Sire, Arthur you need to breathe” Leon tried to get his attention.

Gwaine had his sword out, and pushed it into the circle, and nothing happened, his sword was there, not like Merlin.

He could feel the pressure in his chest, and the burning in his eyes. The anxiety felt suffocating, and suddenly Leon and Elyan were blocking his view.

“Breathe Arthur” instructed Leon, while Elyan tried to get him to imitate him.

It took be a lot more to calm down, and by the time Arthur and Gwaine were calm enough to talk the sun was already setting.

They decided to camp in silence and tension. Elyan had scouted the circle but had not found much. Like Merlin had said nothing came close to the circle, all the animal footprints stopped almost ten steps from the circle.

“But…” Elyan keep going “there’s four points where the earth has been disturbed” he tried to explain.

“What do you mean?” asked Arthur voice rough from shouting.

“There’s nothing entering the circle” he continues “I didn’t think those were footprints, because they were really big, and…” he shook his head and focused “I think the monsters have been coming from somewhere in the circle, they come out” he self finally, eyes set in the fire and voice tense.

A clash was heard and Gwaine was tackled to the ground.

“Get off me” he shouted, “if something is coming from there then I can get in” he growled.

“It’s just an idea” defended Elyan, “I know nothing of magic, there’s runes surrounding the stones! That’s what Merlin was looking before” he pointed to the circle “I don’t know if someone was summing the monsters, maybe what step inside turn into the monsters, maybe they are the sacrifice, maybe this has nothing to do w the monsters at all, and even if this is some kind of passage way, how do we know that place it's not worse” Elyan looked at Gwaine “Merlin is the one that knew most of this stuff” and Arthur’s eyes started to burn.

“I might as well killed him” he said in low voice, rough a guilty.

That made Gwaine stop.

“We” said in grave tone. “We all agreed, If you hadn’t done it yourself, I would have, it was a joke, we were stressed, and when that happen we tend to tease him, none of us took it seriously, none of us took him seriously” Gwaine let out an angry sob “that's why we need to to get him back, we need to apologize"

They start planning.

They notice that while it’s true that none animals entered willingly, when escaping from a hunter they had no problem entering.

They also find that like Elyan had said, that only happened through one of the four paths.

Birds were different, the crossed the circle all the time, they also disappeared.

They find that they can throw anything that it’s not alive and nothing would happen, sticks, rocks… but the moment it was alive it disappeared, even if that its a flower.

“This is stupid” Gwaine insisted “Let me try”

“How can we know if you are fine? How do we know if you are alive?” Arthur asked seriously.

How do we know if Merlin is alive? Everyone could hear the actual question.

“It’s useless if we lose you too” with every moment that passes his mood worsened. He felt guilty and humiliated because of his outburst, and the guilty again and sad.

“This is useless” when said and sprung to the circle.

“Gwaine!”

Before anyone could stop him, he stuck his hand into the circle, up to the elbow, and all of the could see how it vanished. Leon pushed him out of the circle and as he got out of the circle his hand came back to its rightful place.

“Oh thank gods” murmured Gwaine.

“You risked your sword arm, you idiot” Leon scolded.

Gwaine was way too happy to care.

“How does it feel?” Arthur asked checking his arm.

“It feels normal, like always, but it was really fast” Gwaine said flexing his hand and arm “Can I try again or will you freak out?”

No one said anything, no one stopped him, when he approached the circle again. He introduced his hand again slowly.

“What it is Gwaine?”

“It’s warm” he said slowly, making the knights confused.It was deep Autumn, and even if some days were warm, most days like this one were just bright and cold, and usually wet, luckily it didn’t feel like it was gonna rain any time soon “Let me see” and pushed further.

“Gwaine! Are you sure it’s safe?” Percival asked grabbing him by the other arm.

“Just don’t let me go, yeah? I still feel my arm, I can move it, It looks like only the part of me that trespasses the circle vanishes, maybe… I don’t know maybe it’s like a door, a portal? like Elyan said”

“To where?” Asked Leon.

“There’s only one way to find out” Gwaine said before pushing himself into the circle up until the waist, while Percival still held him by the other arm.

Gwaine finds that the place it’s similar, almost the same, but the circle it’s not there, there are a few rocks in place and some others around in the ground like someone was constructing this same place, the trees also looked different and like he said it was warm because it looked like a spring day. He came out and told the knights, buthere was no sing of Merlin.

“It’s been three days”

“He might have needed food”

“And water”

“Merlin is smart”

“He is resourceful"

"Check again" said Arthur, carefully "Look for specific hints, footprints, sings of a camp, struggle, something. It's been three days and if you said the weather looks tranquil then there's should be a trace of him" He was nervous, excited, he wanted to believe but he also was terribly afraid.

Gwaine nodded and went back. But something happened, Gwaine whole body tensed, so they pulled him out.

"What happened? Are you ok?"

"It changed!" Gwaine had a alerted gaze focused and confused.

"What changed?"

"Everything!" he tried to calm himself down "Th..I think the place was the same, but it was, suddenly it was night, and there was a hole like someone had been digging, probably for the rocks but... I don't understand, we didn't take long but it looked like days have happened, let me see again" before they could process anything Gwaine went back.

"What do you see Gwaine?" Arthur asked, worry forming a lump in his stomach.

"Gwaine?" Elyan asked too.

"Gwaine!" Percival took that a as a signal and pulled him out.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear us?" Scolded Arthur.

"I didn't hear anything" Gwaine answered genuine "I felt your hand, but I did not hear anything" explained " When I went back, the sun was rising, there were sings of a camp, the fire was recently put out" he kept going "I thought I heard someone but you pulled me out" accused Gwaine.

"How much time did you spend there Gwaine?" Leon asked.

"I don't know, a couple minutes, enough to see the sun rise fully"

"You were there only a few seconds"

They all processed that information in silence for a moment.

"You mean to tell me, that time runs different there"

"It appears to, sire"

"We need to get Merlin out"

"We need rope"

#merthur #au #fanfiction #fanfic #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #gWAINE #diferent dimensions #bamf merlin #worried knights #protective arthur #idea #merlin x arthur

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pandasaurio-espacial · 20 days

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Even the most loyal of Arthur's people defending Merlin in a magic reveal scenario, not for Merlin's sake but Arthur's is so important to me

#like i have the personal hc that all the knights are camelots knights #but gwaine is merlin's knight #but leon is Arthur's knight #and just as gwaine is willing to risk his life because arthur has merlins loyalty #leon would protect merlin #like merlin stopping arthur from killing his father??? leon would protect arthur from himself by saving merlin #like I NEED someone unwavering in Arthur's corner #that would see that protecting merlin is the best for arthur #idk leon's loyalty is so important to me #idek where i was going with this #bbc merlin #merthur #m ya callate

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guiltyscarlet · 2 months

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@febuwhump

DAY 6: "you lied to me" Fandom: Merlin

“You lied to me. [...] A fucking decade, Merlin ! What the hell were you even thinking, coming to Camelot of all places ?! No, don’t answer that, it was rhetorical.”

In which Mordred has a big mouth and Merlin's identity as Emrys is revealed.

Read it here on AO3 >>

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday6 #guiltywriting #bbc merlin #merlin fanfic #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #knights of the round table #fanfiction #merthur fanfic #merthur #we've got #protective!gwaine #&#protective!leon #it's happier than the last I promise

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adhd-merlin · 4 months

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changing my "ygraine pendragon" tag to "ygraine de bois" because she wouldn't want to be remembered by her shitty husband's name

#hey have you read the fic where she comes back as a ghost to haunt merlin into protecting her son #and merlin and gwaine are a couple of travelling performers. and also a couple #A CONCEPT #I do like it when women come back as ghosts to browbeat men into doing what they want #because I'm a feminist #*

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ellie-the-awesome-11 · 4 days

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so I listened to the new episode

#camlann podcast #Camlann #I get narrator/storyteller Dai in these last two episodes but at what cost #THE DAGGER WAS MEANT TO PROTECT MORGAN #WHY DIDN'T HE TELL HER #I just HAAAAAAA #so many emotions here #I teared up when Gwaine came back #the campfire scene and Dai's monologue was so good #Morgan and Gwen having so many Moments together #BUT THEN FEAR AND PAIN AND DAI DROPPING ALL FACADES AND #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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anxious-scrambles · 2 months

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As I continue into series 4 of Merlin now (I’m absolutely tanking it) I am taken in, cradled, kissed on the forehead by all the silly.

Arthur can’t dress himself? Wyd babygirl.

Percival never having sleeves? Hilarious.

Morgana’s green eye makeup? Thank you for making me bisexual in the past.

Also Gwaine.

Just Gwaine in general.

Fucking love that man.

#he has one braincell #and it’s thinking about a cheese that tasted of apple pir #protect him at all costs #gwaine #bbc merlin

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 2 years

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A Harrowing Childhood

The King, his knights, and his Warlock, are gathered together like they usually are, and a normal, reminiscent conversation turns horrifying.

TW: Severe child abuse, child death/murder. Drowning, burning, animal cruelty, emotional/physical neglect and abuse. This is VERY graphic, especially in the animal cruelty and nightmare department, but also just in everything else. Bad Hunith :(

Merlin had joined in plenty when they, they being himself, The King, and Sirs Lancelot, Elyan, Leon, Gwaine, Percival, and Mordred, had settled around the campfire, but as the night had gone on and topics had changed, he’d retreated in on himself a little. He doesn’t seem sad, he’s still invested, chuckling along to silly anecdotes and gently laughing at embarrassing stories, but he doesn’t contribute, barely having said a word in the hour that they’d been speaking about their childhoods.

Instead, he absent-mindedly plays with his magic. It’s still a novelty to the Warlock, to not have to hide his golden eyes, to be able to wave his hand just above his lap and feel the ripples of magic rushing through his sedentary fingers, as if he’s dipping his hand in the water whilst riding a fast moving boat. The others, if they look, will probably assume he’s just messing with the colours occasionally swirling in the campfire, or the leaves rustling at their feet in the intermittent breeze; he is doing those things, though it’s more of an involuntary shiver as he gently encourages his magic to encompass his charges whilst they converse. He focuses on their heartbeats, the blood rushing through their veins, their pulses, the tapping of their feet, the ever so slight creaking of bones and stretching of skin, muscles, tendons, as they move.

Normally, Merlin does this in high stress situations: during a fight, during important meetings, during planning sessions before a dangerous excursion. He’s so very unused to hearing their heartbeats, one at the tip of almost every finger, so calm and slow and relaxed. He doesn’t wonder, at least not beyond the initial thought and almost immediate onslaught of rather unwelcome memories, why he’s decided now of all times to check in with them. It would seem that talk of childhoods and parents and trouble and punishments needles away at his skin until he knows for certain that each and every one of his friends is happy and serene.

He thought he’d been paying attention, but apparently not, because it takes Arthur—sat next to him with barely an inch of space between them—bumping their shoulders together for him to realise that Gwaine had asked him a question:

“...Merlin?”

The Warlock slams his hand back down to his lap as his mind is shot back into his skull, like the rope pulling his thoughts away had given way under the stress and, instead of slowly fraying, had snapped all in one go; his lips twitch upwards slightly when he hears Arthur huffing an amused laugh from besides him:

“Uh... what, sorry?”

Gwaine snorts and everyone else rolls their eyes and lets out gentle laughs as Merlin’s cheeks pinken. Gwaine repeats his question, his voice extra teasing:

“What about you? How was your childhood?”

Merlin blinks a couple of times as his blush deepens, but at yet another nudge from Arthur, he clears his throat and shakes his head, looking away:

“Oh, nothing worth reporting. I was a rural commoner, so it’s all a bit of... a bit of a downer, really.”

He knows he didn’t have it that bad, knows everything that happened was probably slightly rarer than normal, but Merlin himself is far rarer than is considered normal so... hmm. The way he behaved with his magic as a child... he should probably be grateful for the lessons and warnings he received, others would not have been so lucky. Still, he’s not entirely sure he wants to bring the mood down.

Elyan pipes in next:

“Come on, surely your mum told you what you were like as a toddler at least? Those are the most fun years!”

Merlin’s shoulders tense at the mention of his mother, but they’re... they’re doing good, recently. They write to each other regularly, she’s stopped hugging him so tight he can’t breath, she trusts him to take care of himself, for the most part. He forces himself to relax, and when he notices Arthur’s sudden, almost worried attentiveness at his hesitation, he counts his inhales and exhales in his head, to make sure they’re steady and regular:

“Uh... not really. I was kind of a naughty kid I guess, got punished a lot. Didn’t get out much when I was young because I was sick all the time.”

Merlin has ideas in his head, bumping about in the miniscule cracks and holes and gaps in his skull, about how kids, even hungry peasant kids, shouldn’t be so sick that often, that constantly. The more often those ideas escape their confines and settle in the forefront of his mind, the more he thinks about the fact that he was so sickly he couldn’t leave the house until he, coincidentally, could control his magic better. He thinks about how mum started cooking whatever meat they could get their hands on for longer, when he was that little bit older.

A part of him knows that he deserved all that he got, the food and worse, but he also knows that there’s no way of explaining that thoroughly without painting himself as a victim of his mother. His friends... they like his mum. He likes his mum! It wouldn’t be fair to accidentally trick them into thinking it was all way worse than it really was.

The Warlock keeps the cheeky grin on his face, coy enough that he hopes they get the hint and leave it be. Fat chance, especially with the paranoid natures of Arthur, and Gwaine, and Leon, and Lancelot, and... all of them, really. Gwaine, in the end, is the one to chime in. His tone is playful, but there’s a lining of worry hidden just below the surface; Merlin wonders what he’s so worried about when he pushes his question:

“Fine then, what.... what was the worst thing you did, and the worst punishment you got?”

Leon doesn’t scowl disapprovingly at the other knight, and Arthur doesn’t smirk in the hopes that he’s about to hear something potentially embarrassing that he can hold against Merlin later. The Warlock just rolls his eyes as memories once again flood his mind:

“Uh... I guess that would be when I was... nine? Maybe? I was a small kid so I might’ve been a bit older, I can’t really remember. I was using my magic too much, Will had already seen, and even though he promised not to tell it made my mum... panicky. She’d been trying for years to... discourage me, to get me to learn how to control it. I was finally getting there, the punishments she was giving me were pretty... persuasive, but instead of pushing it down, I used it more. She got real angry one evening, but I think she was more scared than angry, really. There had been sightings of Camelot knights coming further and further over the border, they were barely a mile away from the village the night before, and she saw me making colours in the hearth.-”

The group of knights around him are staring at him raptly, tensely, as if they're awaiting some sort of disaster to strike within the story. They are, Merlin supposes, but they asked for his worst punishment, so they’re going to get it; if it weirds them out then that’s on them for pushing. Merlin smirks a little internally, but only in a subconscious effort to forget how cold and on edge he feels:

“-She tied my hands together with rope, so I couldn’t wave them about anymore, and when it was darker she took me down to the river. It took us hours to get there, because she wanted to get further downstream. I thought it was just... I thought it was her way of apologising, for being so angry. We’d been stargazing before, so I thought... She started crying when I asked her if that was what we were doing, I guess I should’ve known it wasn’t that.-”

He chuckles a little and shakes his head, before shrugging his mouth and continuing, entirely unaware of the ice cold horror making its way through through his companions’ veins; they all hope to God they don’t know where this is going:

“-Anyway. Once we’d gotten far enough, she uh... she dropped the bag she’d been carrying. It was late Autumn, and I, like I said, I was a small kid, so I was freezing, and I asked her how long we were going to be, and she just... I don’t know. She cried more, and she couldn’t look at me. She told me to close my eyes, that we were going to play a a game and everything would be fine and finished soon enough. She... uh-”

Everyone’s focus is on what was in the bag, on why Hunith had wanted to go so far downstream, on the reason for her crying, her avoidance of eye contact, her promise of a coming end. Merlin’s voice is low and slow, and he knows he’s being a little silly, there’s no need to be all dramatic after all, this sort of thing happens all the time in Essetir. He’s the outlier here:

“-I could feel her tying my ankles, and, uh, I could hear her crying still, but then she picked me up with one arm. I thought it was part of the game, and she swung me around and I laughed and wriggled, she just... I don’t know, it felt like she was struggling to walk, like I was too heavy for her, but I know I was a small kid. She laughed too, but I could also feel her crying at the same time. She sang to me for a bit, and then she told me to... she told me to keep breathing no matter what, to not hold it in, to just keep breathing.-”

Merlin’s gaze is stuck solidly to the fire, and he doesn’t notice the sudden silence in the forest around him. No owls hoot, no foxes dig, no beetles rustle, no wind rushes through the trees; likely a reaction to the emotions swirling in his chest and leaking out through his fingertips, a painful mix of fear and love that anyone else would be horrified by. He also doesn’t notice the way Arthur mutters his name, rough and painful, as he gathers the Warlock’s cloak in his hands. It’s been a sort of comfort blanket, over the years, where Arthur hasn’t been able to hold Merlin’s hand or ask for a hug, he’s always been able to angle himself just right so he can run his hands through the soft fabric he’d gifted his servant after a year’s service:

“-Then she dropped me in. It was... there was an overhang, so I fell for a second or two before I hit the water, but it was deep, really deep. Or at least it felt deep to me, I... I was small. I... it hurt,-”

Arthur abandons his grip on the cloak in favour of just taking one of Merlin’s hands as the other absent-mindedly rubs at his chest. The King says his name again, and the contact and sound put together jolts the Warlock out of what was obviously a very deep memory:

“Merlin...-”

He looks up at his King with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile; Arthur’s face crumples even further at the thought that Merlin doesn’t... doesn’t see a problem with this. His own father had been... strict, distant, heavy handed even, on occasions, but Arthur was never hurt outside of training, and the previous King had always come running when his son had a nightmare, at least before he had hit his tenth year. Arthur clears his throat, and without a glance to his equally as distraught knights, he nods for Merlin to continue:

“-Go... go on. How did you... what happened next, Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyebrow raises further at the lack of insult or teasing, but shrugs his shoulder and carries on:

“I... don’t really know. I just remember waking up filthy. I’d... dug myself out, I didn’t know where I was, just that I was still wet and cold, but also covered in mud. I wondered home. Took me a few days, because I got hopelessly lost, but I made it eventually. The whole village celebrated, mum had had them all out looking for me apparently, except in the woods to the East, instead of the River to the South West, which is where she’d taken me. She... it was odd. It was like part of her was overjoyed to see me, she cried so much, she wouldn’t let me out of her sight for weeks, wouldn’t let me near the water for months, but at the same time... she could barely look at me, like she was scared, terrified. A few years later I fell out the roof of the barn and went... uh, well, I went splat. Scared the shit out of Will, I’ll tell you. But yeah, we figure out then that I was some sort of immortal, but that didn’t matter really, I... I never let on that I’d remembered what she’d done, told everyone I just woke up in the woods, that my chest hurt a bit and I was starving but was otherwise ok. No one ever asked again, and I guess mum was... eager, to accept it. We...-”

His previously focused gaze fades into the middle distance, not noticing the tears falling slowly down each and every one of his friends’ cheeks:

“-We’re on better terms now that I can control my magic, she... she doesn’t get as scared or angry as she used to. I’d... like her to not know I remember, we... she’s proud of me now, proud of my magic and the way I use it.”

Merlin’s voice quietens on those last few words until there’s no sound coming from him at all, and Arthur, in the scratchy voice he uses only when he wakes from nightmares or witnesses a massacre of innocents, quietly murmurs to the man pressed close to his side:

“Merlin... your mum, she... she killed you. She drowned you, and... and then she buried you.”

Merlin nods absent-mindedly and hums, so caught up in his own thoughts that he’s completely oblivious to how horrified his friends are. Leon’s father had been strict and unloving, Gwaine’s step-father had a whip-sharp tongue, always available to crack out some cruel judgement or other, but even then, they’d never... no one else’s parents had tried to kill them, and certainly none of them had succeeded:

“Hmm. Yeah, I know. I try not to think about it really,-”

He looks up with a slight chuckle; it’s weak, but genuine, and confusion over whether perhaps they’d... misunderstood, based on Merlin’s reactions, crosses everyone’s minds:

“-but I don’t blame her, not really. It’s not like she hated me, she was just scared.”

Leon can’t help himself here, speaking up angrily, furiously, but still with tears on his cheeks:

“Scared?! Merlin, you were a child, and you were her child, what the hell was there to be scared of?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, unaware of Gwaine taking Leon’s wrist and squeezing—a normally sure fire way to get the First Knight to calm down— as he continues with a smile:

“She wasn’t scared of me, come on, I was tiny and young and my magic wasn’t really that powerful back then. No, she was scared for me. Like I said, Uther’s knights were creeping closer and closer, probably trying to suss out whether they could steal some of Cenred’s land out from under his nose, or still looking for my father maybe. But being caught by Camelot knights meant death by pyre, even as a child, and the alternative? People were starting to get... curious, about the kid that had randomly appeared about a year previously, if any of them reported me to the guard... I told you want happens to sorcerers in Essetir. My mum... she just wanted to spare me, I guess. However painful drowning was, however much it hurt to swallow dirt from my own grave, anything is better than the pyre, anything is better that what Cenred would have done to me. She did the best she could.”

The silence rings out, louder than anything anyone could’ve said; everyone mentally reminds themselves of the painful conversation that had been had when Arthur demanded to know why Merlin would move to Camelot of all places, when everyone had first found out about his magic: “I’d have been enslaved, Arthur. Enslaved and tortured and brainwashed and forced into becoming a weapon. I’d rather burn, I’d rather drown.”. His words make more sense now than they had back then, in a gut churning way. It’s Elyan who replies first, perhaps thirty seconds after Merlin’s heartbreakingly truthful admission:

“No, Merlin. The best thing she could’ve done for you is left. It may have been difficult but... there are other Kingdoms out there that accept magic. Nemeth even takes refugees from Essetir, and formally Camelot as well, it’s why they’ve butted heads in the past. She... there were other options Merlin. She didn’t have to... to do that.”

No one is surprised that it’s Elyan—who’d always had a greater understanding of the world outside of Camelot, who’d always understood the ease, and sometimes necessity, of travel, who makes the blindingly obvious connection. Merlin just shrugs his shoulder again and sighs:

“She’d spent her entire life in Ealdor, you can’t blame her for not knowing that. She was frightened and desperate, I... I really don’t blame her.”

Leon, ever the most protective, has another retort on his lips, Gwaine’s grip on his wrist and Percival’s hand on his back having stopped working almost seconds after they’d appeared, but Mordred, the youngest, the only other there with magic of his own, beats him to it, asking in a quiet, teary voice:

“What did you mean when you said... when you said that you’d only appeared a year previously. I thought you’d lived in Ealdor your whole life?”

The others appear impressed, no one else had noticed Merlin’s odd choice of words, but the Warlock just smiles and nods his head, answering before anyone else can interrupt:

“Hmm. I had, but my mum... I was a sick kid, so I didn’t really... go out. At all, until I was... eight? Maybe? I don’t know, she didn’t want me to get sick by going outside, but I know she really just didn’t want anyone to find out about my magic, back when it was random and uncontrollable.”

The explanation is... terrifying, frankly, no one around the circle can imagine what it would’ve been like to be confined to one room for their first eight summers, with a woman whose only solution when fearing for the safety of her child... was to murder said child, and cover it up. Hunith had always seemed so... bright, loving, optimistic, wonderful. Perhaps she still scolds Merlin like he was a child, sometimes, perhaps... perhaps she hugs too tight, and sends letters that occasionally have Merlin’s shoulders tensing, and watches him like a hawk whenever they’re together, and waves whatever is in her hand towards him whenever he uses magic. Perhaps she... she isn’t as wonderful as they’d all thought. Perhaps none of them had noticed how... on edge, Merlin always seems around her. He claims not to blame her, claims not to be frightened of her, but... some things are unavoidable.

Arthur clears his throat and shuffles in his seat, aware that Merlin would become horribly confused and maybe even aggressively defensive if he started raving on about how horrific everything he just said is:

“Merlin... will you... will you tell us what else your mother did? To protect you, or to stop you from using your magic?”

Merlin is confused regardless, and looks to Arthur without hiding it:

“Does it... matter? I got off pretty light, in the grand scheme of things, and... and I’m here now, so does it really matter what happened when I was younger?”

Arthur gives him a tight smile, stroking a thumb over the back of Merlin’s still held hand as he responds:

“You... you’re right, you’re here now, and you’ll always be safe and free to use your magic with us, within Camelot.-”

Merlin squeezes his hand, as if it’s The King that needs comforting:

“-But will you just... humour us? What else did Hu... did your mother do to you?”

Merlin still seems confused, especially about the way Arthur stumbles over his mum’s name, but he smiles and nods hesitatingly through it:

“Yeah, I... sure, I guess. As long as you lot don’t take a page out of her book.”

He bumps shoulders with Arthur as he says, it, smiling even as the nerves creep into his words. Arthur shakes his head, quickly and determinedly, as he clenches his jaw, but it’s Lancelot, normally so composed, that responds almost argumentatively:

“Never. Merlin, we would never.”

The Warlock still seems confused, but he nods once more:

“... Ok... I mean it really wasn’t that... ok. She, uh... she yelled a lot at first, when I was really young, but that never really worked. My magic was wonderful, you know? I could help the fire burn hotter in winter, I could help the livestock and harvests, I could grow flowers already in the vase on the table. And sometimes I just really couldn’t help it, you know? I just... didn’t understand. So she would... uh, she would burn me, when she saw me using magic.-”

He rolls up his sleeves, muttering under his breath as his eyes flash a muted gold; a faded white ripple flows over his skin, revealing a patchwork of small, raised scars. They’re rectangular in shape, ranging from silvery to dark pink, and they cover the entire expanse of his forearm, going even further up under his sleeve, and down, with a few small ones on the back of his hand and fingers. He flexes his hand, and the others realise he likely hasn’t undone that spell in front of anyone in years.

Arthur, who’d had to release Merlin’s fingers when he’d reached for his own arm, extends a shaking but gentle hand to pull the scarred arm towards him. Merlin goes with him easily, tensing at first, but relaxing and slumping into Arthur’s side as The King runs soft fingertips over the marred skin; he sighs, long and slow, likely in an effort to stop himself from crying in his despair (or screaming in rage). He slowly pulls the sleeve down again, under the careful watch of the knights and Merlin himself, before tucking the Warlock’s hand back between his own as the other man continues:

“-It got to the point where the poker was permanently in the fire. She cried for the first couple of weeks, whenever I made her do it,-”

The flinch at Merlin’s words could be seen going around the group as if a gale force wind had struck them, but he continues despite their grimaces:

“-but it’s like... like she got used to it, after a while, like it didn’t seem to bother her. She’d just get annoyed, worried. Though I suppose I got used to it too, really. Uh... she also... hmm. Oh! She also made me watch her decapitate all the chickens. We were poor, so we only had a few a year, the rest were kept for eggs or breeding, but... well, she always made me watch, and said that’s what would happen if I was caught. She once... uh...-”

He shuffles in his seat, and other than his earlier quietness, it’s the first sign of discomfort or distress he’s displayed since the beginning of the conversation. Arthur, with Merlin’s sweaty hand trapped between his own two palms, wonders what on earth, after everything, could Merlin be nervous about sharing, and Merlin, oblivious still to everyone’s horror, wonders if he should tell this bit, wonders if this might give the wrong impression of his mum to his friends:

“-she burnt one alive, put the metal guard up in front of the hearth and lit it whilst the chicken was in there. She... that only happened once, and I... I got real sick after, because I tried to hold my magic in.-”

Arthur really hadn’t thought anything else would surprise him, but he has to fight the instinct to scream and yell and hurl his sword at the closest tree as Merlin continues:

“-It was meant to be the same sort of lesson, that that would happen to me if I couldn’t learn to control my magic. There were also the bedtime stories,-”

He moves on from the topic as if he were regaling people with Gaius’ shopping list, and the others wipe their face clean of tears and clench their jaws to stop themselves form interrupting. They get the distinct feeling that... the more they let on about how angry and upset and horrified they are, the less Merlin will speak; he’s always hated upsetting them, after all:

“-they were pretty tame compared to the other stuff, to be honest, but they terrified me almost more than the poker, I think. They were always about monsters coming to steal me away in the night, to take advantage of me and my magic. Sometimes they were about being beheaded or burnt, but she dealt with that easily enough with the chickens. The stories were always about Cenred, about being cuffed and cut, over and over, about having my eyes plucked out so I couldn’t see and my fingers burnt so I couldn’t feel and my nose broken so I couldn’t smell and my tongue cut out so I couldn’t taste. She’d say that they’d leave my ears alone, so I could hear them telling me what to do, and if I didn’t, they’d hurt me more, until there was nothing left of me but a monster, just like them. They... I still have nightmares about them, every once in a while, amongst the other nightmares. I know I could beat anyone in Essetir’s army with my eyes closed, maybe even all at once on one of my best days, but Essetir’s colours... they still make me feel a little sick.”

His story is punctuated by the occasional little chuckle, a smirk on his face as though he were telling stories of childhood troublemaking—sweets before dinner, staying out after dark, saying a bad word—and none of his friends can understand just how he can describe what his mother did to him with such a loving and fond expression. Especially considering they know how explosively he’d react if anyone else around the campfire, or anyone else period, had been treated with such unending cruelty.

Once again, the silence is cutting, and when Merlin finally looks up from the fire to see pale and teary faces, his smile falls away to a concerned frown:

“Sorry, I know my childhood is a bit of a mood killer; it’s why I don’t bring it up much. I don’t get why you’re all that upset though? Other kids definitely had it worse.”

Arthur lets out a deep breath at his words, but gulps his outburst down as he tugs on Merlin’s hand, ever so gently, until the Warlock turns to look at him. When he sees The King’s tears his back straightens and his eyes become worried but sharp, ready to pounce on whatever or whoever had caused Arthur so much distress. Arthur just gives him a small, pained smile; it’s part true, at the fact that Merlin is so affected by Arthur being upset, but it’s mostly just so Merlin calms down and listens. Arthur has a feeling that it will take a lot of effort to convince Merlin that what happened to him, what his mother did, is not ok, magic or no:

“Merlin... that... none of that was ok. That was... that was horrific. You... you understand that? Don’t you? Your mother... she tried to kill you, when there were other options, and she hurt you, instead of taught you. Merlin... she...”

His mouth hesitates on the words and then gives up on them entirely, only managing a small shake of the head as Merlin’s jaw clenches. He tries to pull his hand away, but Arthur won’t let him go, and that just serves to make him more... frustrated:

“My mother loves me, and she did her best, Arthur. Who are you to decide otherwise? You don’t know what it was like growing up with magic, Essetir on one side and Camelot on the other. None of you do.”

No one can help but flinch back at the harshness in his eyes when he turns to look over them all, but it doesn’t deter Arthur as he pulls Merlin’s attention back to him:

“I know, Merlin. We could never understand, not really, but... but I know what abuse is, when I hear it.-”

Merlin looks taken aback at the A word, he knows what it is, and as a Physician he’s seen his fair share of it, but its introduction within this conversation, within this context, his context, causes him more confusion than anger. Arthur interrupts him before he can even begin to think of a retort:

“-and I also know that, if any one of us had said our parents treated us even half as... severely-”

He obviously has to hold himself back from saying badly, or cruelly, or abusively; Arthur knows he has to toe the line here, between making Merlin understand, and angering him:

“-you’d be furious. Merlin... you have magic, and your mother was scared, but she didn’t... she didn’t have to hurt you. That was... a choice, that she made.”

At first, anger fills Merlin’s eyes again, but Arthur can tell that it’s at the thought of any of his friends being treated the way he was treated. But then... then his eyes crinkle—and not as though he were smiling—and his mouth hangs open as he tries to speak. It takes him a few moments, but everyone stays silent, waiting for him as his face twitches between emotions:

“I... she didn’t... she didn’t want to, you... she didn’t want to hurt me, Arthur. She didn’t. She didn’t.”

Arthur frowns but nods, delicate, he thinks, this is delicate:

“I know, Merlin, I know, but it’s like... you know when I try to train you? I’m not... trying to hurt you, and you know that, you know that I never hurt you deliberately, it is always a genuine accident, if you get a bruise or something. The training happens because... well, because I care about you, and I want you to be safe, and I want you to be able to protect yourself. But in the course of your training, you shouldn’t be hurt. Training would be pointless if I just... spent the morning beating you to a pulp and then called it a day. You wouldn’t have learnt anything, see? You’d have just come out the other end... confused, and in pain. But you’d feel indebted to me because I’d tell you I’m helping you, but really, I’m not. You see?”

Merlin takes a moment, but it’s then that the tears begin to fall, slowly at first, as his breath begins to hitch. His words coming out in a raspy whisper, and Arthur has to take yet another of many deep, calming breaths as the Warlock eventually replies:

“She... had other options,-”

Arthur nods, just once:

“-besides hurting me...-”

Arthur nods again, gulping and blinking tears away as he does so:

“-But she... she didn’t mean it. It... it wasn’t deliberate.”

Arthur takes another breath, and bites his lip almost bloody for a moment as he reaches, ever so slowly, for Merlin’s sleeve. He pulls it up, and nods for Merlin to look down at the still free-from-magic scars:

“Look at your arm. And that’s not even the worst thing she did to you. Look at your arm, Merlin.”

It takes Merlin another moment, but he does look down, as the rest of the knights stare on. The first tear heavy enough to fall from his chin lands on one of the biggest scars, a deep red, raised, roughly shaped square on his inner wrist, and he mutters, barely loud enough for Arthur to hear:

“I don’t understand.-”

Arthur pulls the sleeve down again before using his free hand to lift Merlin’s chin:

“-I... she’s my mum.”

The King nods solemnly, but gives a weak smile nonetheless as Merlin sags even further into his hold:

“I know, and you... you don’t have to understand, not right now. We’ll... we can understand for you, we can take care of you, gently.”

Merlin’s response, a mouthed “ok” with no sound, with barely a breath of air, is the last thing said before he slowly rests his forehead on Arthur shoulder and cries. It’s quiet, soundless in a way that says he’s desperate to not attract attention, but Arthur holds him through it anyway; the other knights understand their cue and silently prepare the campsite for sleeping, erecting tents, gathering extra firewood for the night watches, and checking on the horses. They get it finished quickly, despite the massive effort to stay quiet, but by the time bed rolls are being pulled out of bags and stuffed into tents, Merlin has finally nodded off. He sleeps fitfully against Arthur’s chest, a furrow in his brow as he wordlessly murmurs to himself. With only one more glance to the still distraught patrol, Arthur scoops Merlin up bridal style, giving a nod of thanks to Percival when he holds their normal tent’s flap open for them.

It’s several months later when Hunith’s door swings open unexpectedly in the evening. She turns around with a jump, not sure whether to expect an unwanted intruder or simply a neighbour, but what she finds, is neither. King Arthur doesn’t even look at her before he turns his back, shutting the door behind him quietly.

She lets out a gentle but confused laugh as she drops the chopping knife she’d been holding onto the counter:

“My, Arthur, you scared the daylights out of me. Is Merlin with you??-”

It’s been a year since Merlin has visited, two since he’s visited with Arthur, but the only answer The King gives is in the tightening of his shoulders when she says her son’s name. Her son, he thinks, as fucking if.

“-My Lord?”

Arthur lets out a deep breath and turns around, Hunith only becoming more concerned at his severe face:

“No, actually, it’s just me this time, I’d hoped we might... clear some things up.”

She seems confused, but less panicked when Arthur hadn’t mentioned Merlin being hurt in anyway. Arthur has to fight away the urge to rage at her for daring to be grateful that he isn’t here with bad news:

“Where is he, then?”

The smile he gives her is tight and menacing as he takes a step forward, and though she resists, Hunith feels the need to take her own step back:

“With Elyan and Gwen. They requested his company whilst they visit their parents’ graves, and I thought it was a wonderful idea, encouraged them to go sightseeing as well, to the North, so they’ll be away from the city for a few days.”

The words he says have an innocent enough meaning, but Hunith catches something more in his tone of voice, and simply furrows her brows in confusion as Arthur takes another step forward:

“Is... is everything alright, Arthur? What’s wrong?”

It’s the motherly tone, the way she genuinely cares so deeply about Arthur’s well-being, Merlin’s well-being, that makes his skin crawl. He thinks he could deal with it more easily if she weren’t so genuine about it all, if she were faking it. He wanders casually over to the lit hearth, moving an already hot poker further into the roaring flames as he quietly, accusingly speaks:

“Merlin told me what you did,-”

She goes to respond, the confused “what?” on the tip of her tongue, but Arthur turns around and continues before she can say anything:

“-when he was eight. When you tied him down and drowned him. When you dug his grave and buried him in it and had the whole village looking for him in the wrong place.-”

Hunith freezes, her eyes wide and manic and her hands shaking:

“-He told me about the chickens, and the nightmares, and the bedtime stories. He told me about you making him think he was going to become a monster, he showed me the scars on his arms from the poker, and a few weeks later, when he was more comfortable and ready to talk about it more, he showed me the bigger ones on his back, from the belt, from the rope, from the stones. He even showed me the scars along one side of his tongue, from the gravel in his grave that cut up the inside of his mouth. And I’m sure that he’s got plenty more to tell me, to show me, that he’s trying desperately not to remember.”

Hunith can’t resist this time, and takes a stumbled step back as her breathing becomes ragged and her fluttering eyes begin to leak tears:

“No... I... it was for his own good, he needed to learn, anything was better than... better than...”

Arthur turning his back on her interrupts her words, but he can hear her getting half way through the first word of plenty of different excuses as he nudges the poker once again:

“You should know that he still loves you, somehow, and that he didn’t want you to know that he... that he knows, that he remembers. But here I am, telling you that he does remember, in quite vivid detail, because I think you should know. And I also think you should know that you will never, ever, lay a hand on him again. You will never be alone with him again, you will never scold him again, you will never so much as even show displeasure on your face in his presence. That’s if I can’t persuade him to never want to see you again.-”

He turns around once more, quickly this time, the poker in his hand. The red hot end is waving dangerously close to Hunith’s face as she gasps and falls back again, bracing herself against the counter:

“-You should be grateful that I am a far better person than you, and you should be even more grateful that I’m not the revenge type, otherwise you would be in a world of pain right now. Even then, the only reason I’m not making an exception, the only reason I’m not breaking all my rules and landing even a fraction of the pain you caused Merlin upon you, is that it would break Merlin’s heart to know that you’d suffered.-”

He drops the poker onto the table with a clang, the hot end hanging off the edge precariously and sizzling loudly as a leak from the roof drips onto it. Hunith jumps at the noise, but Arthur stays stock still, his glare boring holes into the woman’s own eyes:

“-Despite everything you have done to him, he is still the kindest person I know, and he still loves you. But you will never touch him again, and I will be by his side every second he is even vaguely near you to make sure that he’s safe. Am I understood?”

Hunith takes another shaky breath, but doesn’t say anything, and Arthur darts forward, slamming his hand on to the table as he roars:

“Am I understood?!”

The poker bounces and balances even more precariously on the edge of the table, but just about manages to stop from toppling onto the hay covered floor as Hunith whimpers and nods. Arthur, satisfied, stands up and straightens his clothes before making his way to the door. His tone is jarringly friendly and jovial as he lets himself out:

“Well, now that we’ve got that cleared up, I really must be going. This is only a flying visit. And Hunith?-”

He turns back to her with a dark smile:

“-This stays between us, yes?”

She nods once more, and The King drops his smile, staring at her with dead eyes and a blank expression for barely a second more before walking out into the night and shutting the door behind him.

Sir Leon hands him the reins to his horse as Sir Gwaine whistles lowly, appreciatively:

“Sounded like quite the... conversation.”

There’s a question in there somewhere, but Arthur is too exhausted and angry to bother uncovering it. His only reply is a deep hum as he mounts his horse before leading the way from the village, back towards Camelot, back towards where Merlin should be three days from now, curled up in front of Arthur’s hearth with a blanket round his shoulders and a hot drink in his hands as he happily regales The King with his last week’s worth of adventures.

THE END!!!!

Phew, that was a heavy one, difficult to write, but I’m glad I did it!! I really hope you guys are as horrified as I want you to be, and I hope you enjoyed it. Up next should be some Happy Hunith Fluff in the form of Control Part 6, so keep an eye out for that!!!

Let me know what you think gang, I could really do with some feedback on this :D

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