Bookish

I am 75% books 25% TV series. Who needs water?

[kyliafanfiction-archive]

Painshipping, noun: The act of consistently and persistently shipping ships that end in misery, death (of one or both parties), tragic seperation or otherwise resulting in an empty pain that makes you cry and/or get angry every time you think about what could have been,

[stoned-sh4rk]

thank you to the 7 people who like all my posts

[bookishwriter7]

Full Circle or Another Mergana fanfiction nobody asked me to right

We never actually see the first time Merlin meets Morgana in the show, even though we witness his first meetings with all the other major characters. That always annoyed me, so I decided to write my own version of their first encounter.

And since I’ve always loved stories that come full circle — and especially ones that lean into tragedy — I wrote both their first and last moments together. But in this version, Merlin and Morgana are in love: two people destined to fight, and doomed to love.

The lines “Forgive me” and “Next time you knock me over, try to catch me before I hit the ground” came to me unexpectedly — and yet they fit so perfectly in both scenes, as if they were meant to be there all along.

I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I loved writing it.

Full Circle

First

The castle lay hushed, swathed in the soft afterglow of celebration and dread after the almost death of Camelot's prince. Music had faded like a dying ember, goblets lay silent, and laughter was now a memory in the distant halls. Camelot slept — but Merlin, ever restless, moved like a shadow through its vastness. Arms laden with laundry for a prince who could scarcely tell linen from leather and believed Merlin’s first job was to wash his undergarments, Merlin rounded a corner too swiftly, as was his way, and collided squarely with someone.

A soft gasp followed the sudden impact. Not just anyone, he corrected himself—a woman! The muffled thud of rich fabric meeting cold stone echoed briefly. Morgana, more startled than harmed, tried to rise with the measured grace her wardship demanded. But Merlin’s voice stopped her.

“Forgive me!” he said, earnest and quick. “I wasn’t watching. I didn’t...”

“I noticed,” came the reply—smooth, amused, warm as a flickering flame.

Merlin looked up and there she was—The Lady Morgana—the most breathtaking vision he’d ever laid eyes upon. Her dark hair spilled loose over one shoulder, freed from its carefully wrought updo, and her gown shimmered in the torchlight like wine-dark velvet kissed by fire. A fire he now stood perilously close to.

She arched a single, elegant brow—not in anger, but in curious appraisal of his silence. Merlin, aware now of the sudden stillness that cloaked the corridor, hurried to make amends, offering his hand to help her rise.

Morgana felt an unexpected heat where their hands met—a stark contrast to the castle’s night chill. Merlin, though, seemed untouched by the moment, not even meeting her eyes, but she thought she heard a soft intake of breath from him as she stood. Hastily, he bent to gather the scattered trail of Arthur’s clothes and undergarments.

She raised that brow again, intrigued.

“So,” she said lightly, determined to carry their unexpected encounter further, “you are the infamous Merlin.”

He blinked, half-kneeling among the fallen linen, still avoiding her gaze.

“Infamous?” His voice shed apology, curiosity seeping through.

She bent to pick up a vest, uncaring for delicate manners. Merlin thought, with dizzy surprise, that her beauty was matched only by a kindness that shimmered beneath it. When she attempted to meet his eyes to explain, he seemed particularly interested in the wall behind her.

“You saved Arthur’s life, mocked him to his face, and were promoted for it. That makes you something of a legend already.”

Merlin brushed some invisible dust from his trousers.

“Legend might be stretching it.” A flush crept up his cheeks; he tried to quell it. Perhaps there was a spell in Gaius’s magic book for this—his magic book now, he reminded himself, feeling a flicker of pride.

She tilted her head. “Modest too. Gwen said you are very interesting.”

“Gwen talks about me?” Merlin said, genuinely startled. He had not imagined he’d made such an impression on the bubbly maiden.

“She said you’re brave beyond measure,” Morgana pressed on, stepping closer, a playful smile flickering on her lips, “with a soft heart and a reckless streak a mile wide.”

Merlin laughed awkwardly. “I think I preferred it when no one knew who I was.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” the beautiful lady replied.

At last, their eyes met—brief, electric—and something unspoken passed between them. Not certainty, but recognition. A spark, faint yet undeniable.

“Still,” Merlin added, clearing a surprisingly dry throat, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I just—” He shrugged helplessly. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

Morgana held his gaze a moment longer, then smiled—this time soft and genuine—catching him unawares.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said. “Though I appreciate the concern.”

Merlin shifted the bundle in his arms, fighting the urge to stare. “Good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He realized too late what he’d said. “I meant—”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she murmured, quicker than him again, delighting in his awkwardness as she brushed past with the grace of a cat, her gown whispering against his jacket.

“It was truly memorable.” Her soft laugh tinkled like wind chimes stirred by a summer breeze.

He watched her retreat, her voice drifting back like silk.

“By the way, Merlin—next time you knock me over...”

He swallowed hard.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Try to catch me before I hit the ground.”

She paused, inviting his reply.

“A promise I fully intend to keep, my lady,” he said briskly, feeling like a knight from the bedtime stories his mother once sang to lull him asleep.

“Until next time, then, Merlin.” Morgana sealed that promise with a glance that felt larger than them both.

The hem of her gown whispered secrets against cold stone as she vanished around the corner, leaving him alone—with a heart suddenly full and an armful of royal laundry.

Merlin stood long after she disappeared, watching the empty space she had left behind.

Then, softly, to no one in particular, he murmured, “…She walks like fire cloaked in velvet... I am in terrible trouble!”

And with a grin despite himself, he lifted the last fallen shirt and turned toward the direction he hoped was the laundry, the faint echo of her laughter still ringing in his ears.

Last

The forest was quiet around them, the kind of silence that wraps itself tight and refuses to let go. The sun had dipped low, its last embers scattering through the branches like fragile sparks of hope. Merlin stood there, sword heavy in his hand, the cold steel burning against his palm, and across from him, Morgana looked back with eyes that carried every storm they’d ever weathered — fury, pain, regret… and something softer beneath it all, something both felt despite everything and had tried to deny too many times to count.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. The world had shrunk to just the two of them, and the unbearable distance between what they once were and what fate now demanded they become.

“I never wanted this,” Merlin said at last, his voice rough and low. “Never thought it would come to this… We could have found another way.” His voice broke with the weight of a memory — a time so strange and yet so painfully familiar.

Morgana’s gaze didn’t waver, but there was a tremble in her breath — a last confession slipping free. “Neither did I,” she said quietly. “But it’s always been our destiny, hasn’t it? I was warned. You are my destiny and my doom. We are doomed to fight, to stand on opposite sides — like light and darkness, forever chasing, forever out of reach.”

The Great Dragon’s voice echoed, uninvited, in Merlin’s mind:

“She is the darkness to your light, the hatred to your love.”

How was it possible to love so deeply the one woman he was meant to hate? This question had haunted him, circling his mind for what felt like the millionth time over the past painful seven years.

Merlin’s heart clenched. “I dreamed — I still dream — of a different life. One where you weren’t my enemy. Where we could be… more than this endless war.” A tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it away hastily. He couldn’t break now. Not yet.

A bitter smile twisted across Morgana’s lips. “You and your dreams. Always reaching for the impossible.” She took a step closer, her voice softening, almost tender. “But I am the darkness in your dreams, Merlin — the part you try to deny.”

He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to lose you. Not like this. Not ever.”

“You already have,” she whispered. “Every time you used your magic against me, against our people. Every time you chose Arthur and your destiny over me.”

There was a long silence before Merlin spoke again. “There’s no other way now. You know that. If I don’t—” His voice cracked, and he forced down the last of his courage. “If I don’t do this, more will die. More innocent lives. I have to stop the bloodshed.”

Morgana looked away, pain flashing in her eyes. “And what about me? Was I not innocent once upon a time? Didn’t I ask for your help? Was I not worth fighting for?”

Her voice cracked, and for the briefest moment, the fierce facade slipped, revealing the woman beneath. “I don’t want to die, Merlin. Not like this. Not now. Not ever.” She echoed his previous words, and his breath caught in his throat. She knew so well how to make him suffer, but despite that... She understood what she was doing to him, but she allowed herself only a moment of false triumph. She focused on the blade in his hand, glancing at it as if it were the thing she hated most in the world.

“I am a High Priestess. No mortal blade can kill me,” she said with a flicker of that familiar confidence — the very thing that made her so damn irresistible to Merlin.

His hands trembled. He stepped forward, the sword lowering slightly. “This is no mortal blade,” he said. “Like yours… it was forged in a dragon’s breath.”

She lifted her head, meeting his eyes once more. There was a quiet, calm understanding behind them. A softness that shattered him all over again. How many heartbreaks could a single pair of emerald eyes deliver?

“Do you remember what you promised? Next time you knock me over,” she reminded him, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips despite the tears beginning to glisten there, “try to catch me before I hit the ground.”

The words hit him like a punch. The desperate longing behind them — to go back, to change their past, to return to a time when he could brighten her mood with just a bouquet of wildflowers — was unbearable.

But the past was past. Not even his magic could save him from this final heartbreak.

He hoped Gaius was right about other lives. And if he was, then one day, when he found Morgana again, he would catch her before she fell. And he would hold her so tightly, shielding her from all the harm their wrongs had wrought in this wretched life.

Merlin closed the distance between them, the sword glinting once more as he raised it, his breath ragged. His hands were trembling so violently he could barely hold the hilt steady.

“I love you,” he said, voice cracking with raw emotion. “I’ve always loved you.”

Morgana’s eyes widened as the blade pierced her, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Shock, disbelief, and acceptance flickered across her face as she leaned into him.

“You actually did it,” she murmured, her voice fragile and strange.

Merlin caught her before she could fall, keeping the promise he’d made what felt like a lifetime ago — when his greatest problem was finding his way in an enormous castle. In the end, he had lost his way, lost himself, and most of all, lost her. Morgana. His Morgana.

He pulled her close with trembling arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, tears blurring his vision. “I never wanted this. Please… forgive me.”

Her hands found his face, fingers trembling as they traced the sorrow etched deep into his skin. “Hold me,” she breathed. “Don’t let go.”

And he did. He pulled her closer still, and their lips met in a kiss that was everything — desperate, tender, a silent apology for all that had been lost and all that could never be. It was a kiss that spoke of forbidden love, of shared pain, of a future stolen before it could bloom.

“I’ll never forget you. And I will find you again — and when I do, I’ll never let you go. I promise,” Merlin whispered against her mouth, his tears warm against her cheek — sealing a new vow he prayed, against all odds, would one day come true.

Morgana smiled faintly, her breath faltering. “Then hold me, Merlin… hold me till the end.”

“Forgive me,” Merlin whispered once more, praying that in the next life she would not remember what he had done in this one — hoping the burden and guilt would be his alone to carry. He owed her that.

And as her life was slipping away, Morgana realized that the words he had just spoken were the very first he had ever said to her.

A full circle. And with all her heart, she wished that in another life, Merlin would knock her over again and say those same fated words — “Forgive me” — but this time, fate would be kinder to them. She wished it so fiercely, even with her final breath, that somehow… the great powers heard. And they promised her: it would happen.

With that final thought, Morgana managed a choking “I love you” and left the world with a smile on her lips — because she felt, with quiet certainty, that it would only be for a little while.

Merlin held her close, memorizing that soft smile — the smile that reminded him of easier times — and mourning the love fate had denied them and the price he had paid to keep a fragile peace.

“Forgive me,” Merlin said one last time, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to hers, the sorrow of a thousand lifetimes weighing heavy on his soul. And in that fragile silence, with her fading warmth in his arms, he vowed to carry her memory and meet her again — as swiftly as the kinder fates would allow — a beacon of light amid the shadows of their broken world.

[bookishwriter7]

Remus/Hermione as only Sirius tells it!

I'm a devoted Remus and Hermione shipper. I truly believe that if they had been the same age, there’s no doubt they would have ended up together—spending long evenings by the fire lost in conversation about the books they’ve read, the rights of house-elves and werewolves, all while trying to keep Harry, Ron, and Sirius out of trouble.

A small moment from the original Prisoner of Azkaban script brought all those feelings rushing back. I love the antithesis Sirius uses there: Hermione, glowing like the sun—bright, warm, radiant. Remus calling her “the brightest witch of her age,” clearly impressed by her brilliance. And on the other hand Remus, cursed to howl at the moon, forever tied to its cold, distant light.

I can imagine, in another universe, being the same age and Remus falling in love with Hermione—and she with him—but him trying to push her away. She’s full of light, of goodness, of hope. And he, believing himself made of shadow—of moonlight and curses—thinks he doesn’t deserve someone so luminous. Throughout the course of the seven books, I picture them caught in this quiet, angsty orbit around each other. The sun and the moon, forever chasing each other across the sky—until, finally, at the end, they have the happy ending they both deserve.☀️🌑

[bookishwriter7]

Morgana deserved better

Hear me out on this—Morgana’s fall wasn’t inevitable. It was orchestrated, not by destiny, but by silence, neglect, and fear masquerading as protection. When she first discovers she has magic, what’s the immediate response? Gaius drags her away, insists she’s imagining things, and gaslights her into questioning her sanity. The very people who should have guided her instead isolate her. She’s not seen as someone in need of support—but as a threat in the making.

And then there’s Merlin. After swearing he “won’t abandon her” to the dragon’s face—a moment loaded with promise and emotional weight—he does exactly that. Yes, he helps her find the Druids, but when she finally feels safe, finally feels like she’s among people who understand her, he takes it all away. Why? Because Uther’s paranoia is triggered. Because the kingdom is in danger. Because, once again, her safety is sacrificed for the comfort of others.

And the worst part? Merlin gives her a smile as she’s torn from the only place she’s ever felt like she belonged—as if that could substitute for the support and honesty she needed. It’s not betrayal in the classic sense, but it’s abandonment all the same.

What’s baffling is the logic behind it all. Merlin and Gaius seem to believe that Morgana would somehow be safer spiraling alone, uninformed and afraid of herself, than being taught to control her powers. That teaching her magic would be more dangerous than letting it manifest uncontrollably. It’s a deeply flawed, almost negligent choice—especially since Morgana isn’t just any young woman in Camelot. She’s the king’s ward, someone constantly under scrutiny. The pressure to hide her magic is immense, and yet she’s given no tools to handle it. How is that safer for anyone?

Then the show moves on to filler—like the troll storyline, as if the gravity of Morgana’s struggle can be paused. When the Witchfinder arrives, the stakes become real again. Morgana is visibly unravelling, terrified of being discovered. She looks to Merlin, pleads with her eyes, hoping the one person who knows her secret will step in and help her. But he doesn’t. He saves her from the knife, yes—but not from the isolation, not from the psychological torment of feeling entirely alone in her fear.

And then comes Morgause—manipulative, yes, hated, yes, but also the only one who sees Morgana’s pain and does something about it. She offers relief, answers, and a sense of control. She treats Morgana not as a liability, but as someone worthy of power and belonging. Is it really so surprising that Morgana clings to her? Especially after Merlin—who poisoned her and was the last thread to her old self—proves she can’t trust him either?

From Morgana’s perspective, her turn toward Morgause wasn’t a power grab or a descent into evil. It was survival. Everyone else either feared her, ignored her pain, or were too caught up in their own worlds to notice she was drowning. Arthur, caught in his own conflicts. Gwen, unaware. Gaius, complicit in silence. And Merlin—burdened with his own destiny—too afraid to stand with her in the one way that could have changed everything: honesty.

So when Morgana finally turns, it’s not villainy. It’s a response to betrayal. Not a lust for power, but a need to belong. To be seen. To feel safe. She didn’t choose darkness. She was pushed into it by people who claimed to love her but couldn’t love all of her.

And yet, the show frames her as the antagonist in Arthur’s heroic tale. But what if she was the one failed by the legend? What if Morgana’s story isn’t a fall from grace—but a tragic example of what happens when power is feared more than it’s understood, and when women are asked to stay quiet about the very things that make them powerful?

Morgana deserved better—from her friends, from her family, and most of all, from the writers.

[bookishwriter7]

All the Ways We Almost Said It

A Mergana fanfiction story

Because I couldn’t help the plot bunny that whispered, "You should write a ‘I just wanted to check you were okay’ as Merlin’s way of saying ‘I love you’ to Morgana story,"—and because I wanted a heartbreaking one—I asked myself:

What if Merlin had been in love with Morgana since Season 1, and came to see her one last time before he was about to sacrifice himself in Le Morte d’Arthur?

I hope you’ll like it.

The fire had long since surrendered, leaving only the ghost of a flame dancing in the hearth’s cradle. Its glow spilled across the stone walls in soft, flickering ribbons brief golden sighs in a room grown quiet with waiting. Outside, rain murmured against the windows like a secret too tender to say aloud. It did not rage it wept. Steady, soft, as if the heavens knew this was the hour of breaking.

Morgana sat on the edge of her bed, hair unbound, spilling like ink over her shoulders. A book lay open and forgotten in her lap, words swimming on the page like they no longer belonged to any language she knew. Her eyes had not moved from the same line in over an hour.

The storm was distant. But something closer trembled in her chest an ache, low and insistent. She did not know what she was waiting for, only that she was.

Then a knock. Soft. Barely there.

She stilled.

Not the knock of a servant, brisk and practical. Not Arthur’s, not Gwen’s. This one was hesitant. A single breath against wood. Like someone asking for permission they knew they didn’t deserve.

“Who is it?” Her voice, more breath than sound.

A pause.

“It's Merlin, my lady.”

His voice sounded low and scraped thin, like it had weathered too many silent hours.

She rose slowly. Her bare feet touched the cold stone, anchoring her to a moment that already felt too fragile. Crossing the room, she opened the door.

There stood Merlin, drenched in rain, hollow-eyed, and trembling. His hair clung to his brow, his cheeks pale with something deeper than cold. His coat sagged under the weight of water, but his shoulders sagged under something heavier.

She managed a soft, teasing smile, though her heart had already clenched. “You look like death.”

“I… I wanted to check you were okay,” was his answer.

The phrase. That same phrase. How many times had he said it? How many times had she let it slide past her ears, soft and strange and secret?

But tonight, it wasn’t routine. Tonight, it felt like a goodbye.

Merlin’s mind drifted in the silence, memories flickering like broken light.

He had known for months.

The moment had come quietly, without fanfare or grand revelation. It was in the way her laughter caught in his chest, the way her eyes softened when he met hers, the way his breath hitched whenever she entered the room. Love had crept in on silent feet, weaving itself into his thoughts, until it was all he could think of—her face burning in his dreams, her voice a balm to the worst of days.

And still, he had never dared say it aloud.

“You always say that,” Morgana murmured.

Her voice laced through the hush, and his thoughts dissolved like smoke.

“Because I always need to know,” he replied.

Something inside her tightened.

She stepped aside, letting him in. He moved like a shadow carefully, quietly, as if afraid the stones themselves would cry out if he stepped too loudly. He stood by the door, damp and shaking, like the fire might not warm him even if it tried.

“You’re trembling,” she said, her voice turning gentle. “Come closer to the fire.”

But he didn’t move.

She turned to face him fully, watching the ghost in his expression, the grief clinging to him like rain. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” he replied too fast.

She took a step closer. “Don’t lie.”

He looked down, shoulders folding inward.

“Why are you really here?”

His mouth opened, then closed. His jaw clenched like he was swallowing fire. Then: “I just… I just needed to see you.”

A single heartbeat passed. Then another.

“At this hour?” she asked. “Like this?”

The question caught in her throat. The air between them had changed. Something old and unnamed now stretched between their breaths.

He raised his eyes to her face eyes that knew how to hide pain, but not tonight. Tonight, they bled. He looked at her as if she were already a memory he longed to cherish forever.

“Merlin…” she whispered her gaze never leaving him.

“You have this way of looking at me,” he said, voice unsteady, “like I matter. Like I’m not invisible.”

The words hit something deep in her. Something that had no name.

And yet, here he was, broken and vulnerable, standing in the doorway of her heart, giving her everything he could not say.

“I wanted to…” He faltered. “check you were okay.”

Her hands clenched.

“Stop saying that.”

“Please don't deny me that. It’s all I can say,” he practically pleaded.

“No, it isn’t. I know it isn't,” her voice sounding so desperate to her ears that it frightened her.

Silence draped over them, heavy and thick. Even the storm outside seemed to still, listening.

She stepped closer. Raised her hands to his face, fingertips grazing his chilled skin. He didn’t flinch. He leaned into her like a man starved of warmth.

“Your eyes are red,” she said quietly.

“I haven’t cried,” he quickly denied.

“Then why do you look like you’re already mourning something?”

His breath hitched, shallow and uneven. She saw it - the war inside him. Words unsaid pressed against his teeth like they would drown him if spoken.

He shook his head.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he breathed.

“I don't believe that.”

His gaze dropped. But she didn’t let go. She held him steady, her touch soft but unrelenting.

“I kept thinking…” His voice cracked. “If I could just see you one more time. Hear your voice. Then I could happily go.”

“Go where?”

No answer.

“Merlin tell me what's happening.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do, it will be harder to leave.” His voice dropped, barely a whisper. “And I have to. No matter how much I—”

He stopped himself.

Too close. Too near the truth he couldn’t afford to say.

Her next words came out in a breath. “How much you what?”

His hands found her face now, matching her tenderness. His thumbs traced beneath her eyes, gentle and reverent. Their foreheads met. Eyes closed. The storm outside quieted, holding its breath.

“I just wanted to check you were okay,” he said again. But this time, it fractured.

“Merlin…”

“You were the only thing,” he whispered, “that ever made this place feel like home.”

And that was when it broke inside her the slow, quiet truth that had been blooming unnoticed.

It was him. It had always been him.

The late-night glances. The warmth behind his worry. The way her heart ached when he smiled at someone else. She loved him. She had loved him in silence for so long she had forgotten there were words for it. For months, she had told herself it was concern she felt when he came to see her, a lingering worry for a friend cloaked in habit. But now, the truth bloomed a sharp, breathtaking realization that she had loved him in the quiet places of her soul without ever saying it, without daring to admit it. She had watched him from the shadows, yearning for his blue eyes, aching when he looked away and only now realizing she was terrified that if she spoke aloud, she might shatter the fragile bond between them.

But she couldn’t say it. Not now. Not when he looked like a man standing at the edge of the world. He was saying goodbye. He would never return. She could see it in his eyes. So many questions he wasn't willing to answer, so little time. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died, too heavy with grief, too small against the weight of what was slipping away.

So instead, she kissed him—not to stop him, not even to change his mind, but because it was the only language left. A final plea, a quiet surrender, a desperate attempt to say everything that time would no longer allow.

It was not perfect. It was trembling and desperate, built from everything they had never said. Her lips sought him like a final prayer. He kissed her back like he was drowning and she was the breath he’d been denied. It was slow, tremulous like the fragile breaking of dawn, a fragile unspooling of months held tight in silence. Her lips parted beneath his like a secret unlocked. He tasted of rain and raw grief and all the things he couldn't say.

His hands tangled in her hair, gentle but desperate, as if the very act of holding her might hold the world from falling apart. His mouth moved with a softness that shattered her, as if he feared the moment might be their last. No, he knew it will be their last. No more dawns, no more secret glances, no more Morgana.

Time slowed until it was just the two of them breath mingling, hearts thrumming like wild birds trapped in a cage. The ache between them was a living thing fierce, tender, unbearable.

When they parted, it was only just - lips brushing still, foreheads pressed together like they could hold the shattered pieces of themselves in that small space. Their breaths came ragged, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks, tracing silent rivers of loss and love.

“I should’ve said it a hundred times,” he whispered, voice breaking like glass.

“Then why didn’t you?” she demanded even though she knew the answer.

He closed his eyes, voice barely a breath. “Because you are you… and I am only me. Because our world is full of so many lines we’re not meant to cross. But mostly… because I knew if I ever began I’d never know how to stop.”

Her hand slipped into his, fingers weaving tightly through his own. The touch was a promise, a plea, a lifeline.

“If you leave now,” she whispered, voice trembling like a fragile prayer half mad half desperate to make him stay, “I’ll be furious with you,”

“I know,” he said, and the sadness in his voice made her chest ache.

“But I’ll wait anyway for your return,” she promised

“Don’t.”

“I will. You will come back to me. This can't be how this ends,” her voice breaking at the last word.

In a single moment, the words she whispered in the corridor flooded back to him—when her touch overwhelmed him, and he had to flee, for if he stayed, tears would have spilled before her eyes. “It is only the beginning,” she had said. And so it was—the beginning of the end. His end. Yet, he would carry with him that one stolen kiss from her for at least a few hours before death, heavy with the weight of her silent, unspoken love. But now, he must leave her and lay down his life to save his mother. In truth, he had lived a good life, even if only a fleeting fraction of his days were touched by Morgana’s presence. Many die never knowing love. He had been lucky. Selfishness was a luxury he could not afford. Not now, not ever again.

He squeezed her hand, a quiet anchor in a sea of storm.

Then he pulled away, stepping back toward the door.

She did not move no matter how much she wanted to but her gaze followed him tears never stopping.

“Please... stay,” she begged.

He reached the threshold but her words gave him pause.

Then, as if the weight of a thousand silent years crashed down on him, he spun back.

Without a word, without a thought, he crossed the room again with reckless urgency, hands catching her face, pulling her into a kiss that was sharper, deeper, more desperate.

This kiss was the cry of a soul torn between love and loss. It was the sweetness of all the moments stolen, the ache of all the hours they’d never have. His mouth moved against hers with a fierce longing, trembling hands threading through her hair as if to memorize the feel of her one last time.

She clung to him, the world narrowing to breath and pulse and the burning heat of their collision. Their lips parted, only to find each other again, tasting the bittersweet finality of a love that might never find its dawn.

When at last they broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, breaths mingling like a whispered farewell.

“Morgana, please—please smile when you think of me. ” he breathed, voice barely audible, laden with everything he could never say aloud.

And then he ran hearing her voice screaming his name.

Down the hall, away from the only woman that had ever truly felt like home.

Morgana stood frozen, her fingers still trembling where his had held her face. The fire flickered low, casting long, restless shadows that echoed the storm raging inside her chest. She tasted the ghost of his lips, the faint warmth of his breath lingering on her skin, and the unbearable weight of everything that had just slipped through her fingers.

Her body trembled with silent screams, eyes wide and desperate, searching the space where he had been—as if willing him to stay. She clenched her hands into fists, knuckles white, her breath catching in a choke of helplessness.

Time seemed to stretch and shatter around her, the silence pressing in like a cold wave. The hollow absence he left was a void so vast, so cruel, it threatened to swallow her whole.

Her heart broke quietly but utterly—a single star collapsing in an endless night.

And in that shattered stillness, she understood: love was a cruel and beautiful torment—an unyielding flame shared between two souls, destined to burn fiercely, even as they were torn apart.

[bookishwriter7]

Merlin/Morgana and the Importance of clothes in Nightmare Begins

In The Nightmare Begins, Morgana’s clothing subtly mirrors the evolution of her relationship with Merlin—layer by layer, it reflects her emotional vulnerability, shifting identity, and the changing dynamic between them.

At the beginning of the episode, Morgana wears only her nightgown. She’s in tears, disheveled, terrified—no longer the proud ward of the king, but simply a frightened girl lost in the chaos of her newfound magic. In that moment, she steps toward Merlin not as royalty, but as someone desperate to be understood. And Merlin, seeing her stripped of title and pride, calls her by name: “You can trust me, Morgana. You know you can.” For that brief time, they are equals—perhaps even with Merlin holding the upper hand. He is the one who could destroy her or save her, and she chooses to trust him.

In the next scene, still in her nightgown, Morgana opens her door/heart to Merlin once more. There’s something raw and intimate in the gesture—she’s not hiding behind courtly attire, not yet armored in silk and status. She’s letting him see her vulnerability again, tears and all, trusting that he will still choose to help her.

At the druid camp, their connection deepens. Morgana wears druid robes, symbolic of her truest self—the identity she’s only just discovered and is beginning to accept. She is not the king’s ward, not a noblewoman, not even a powerful sorceress yet. She is simply Morgana, and in that simplicity, she opens herself fully to Merlin. In turn, he tells her something no one else ever has: that he understands her better than anyone. The way she looks at him in that moment—like he hung the moon—is telling of how connected she feels to him. In that instant, she almost recognizes that he is like her: magic calling to magic. Together, they experience a closeness unlike any they will ever know again. Had they not been interrupted, a part of me believes Merlin might have finally told her his own secret. They were far from Camelot, their clothes no longer separating them but reflecting their shared truth: just two people with magic, longing to feel accepted, less alone, and no longer afraid.

But the moment doesn’t last.

Back at the castle, reality intrudes. Morgana opens the door again—but this time in one of her elaborate gowns, regal and composed. The mask is back on. Merlin, too, returns to formality: “My lady.” The distance reappears. They are no longer just Merlin and Morgana; they are servant and noble, both with things they cannot say out loud. What was shared in the woods—every glance, every word—must now be buried. It’s too dangerous, too intimate, to live outside the safety of silence.

In this episode, clothes become more than costumes—they are emotional signposts. They becomes language. They speaks of power and vulnerability, distance and closeness, truth and fear. They chart the brief, beautiful collapse of barriers between Merlin and Morgana, and the inevitable moment when they must rebuild them again. They tell the story of two people who, for just a little while, stepped outside the walls built around them—and then had no choice but to return right back to them.

[bookishwriter7]

Merlin/Morgana and flowers

I've often thought about the moment when Merlin chooses to cheer Morgana up with flowers—something he perceives, perhaps subconsciously, as a romantic gesture. It's subtle, yet deeply telling. The fact that the last thing Morgana looks at before closing her eyes is the bouquet, and that it's also the first thing she notices upon waking, gives the flowers a symbolic weight. They're a quiet thread of comfort, beauty, and perhaps hope—deliberately placed in a moment of darkness.

But then the vase shatters.

It’s such a small, easily overlooked moment, yet it feels rich with foreshadowing. Their relationship, like the flowers, blooms gently at first—full of unspoken understanding and tenderness. But just like the glass that holds them, it's fragile. Merlin’s decision to keep his secret, becomes a fracture too deep to mend. Morgana, isolated in her fear and confusion, is left to spiral—alone.

In that light, the broken vase isn't just an accident. It becomes a quiet, visual prophecy: beauty that couldn't last, beauty that mishandled cut, that even the gentlest gifts can be ruined by what’s left unsaid. Merlin and Morgana's connection was undone by silence, and was always a relationship destined to shatter.💔🥀

[bookishwriter7]

INCORRECT MERGANA GROUP CHAT

The one where destiny got a plot twist, Morgana and Merlin became magical soccer moms, and Arthur’s paper bag is his only refuge

“Papa Sparkles & Mama Doom’s Murder Baby 💕🧨”

(Renamed 12 times in the last 30 minutes. Arthur is breathing into a paper bag 😤📦)

Merlin (👨‍🦱✨): We have news! 🥹💙

Morgana (🖤👑): Surprise! We’ve officially adopted Mordred. ❤️

Arthur (👑💢): YOU ADOPTED MY FUTURE MURDERER?! YOU LOOKED DESTINY IN THE EYE AND SAID “YES, LET’S PARENT THAT.” 😱⚔️

Merlin: He’s really sweet now! He plays the lute 🎵, uses his inside voice 30% of the time, and only curses people who deserve it. 😇

Mordred: Hi, Uncle Arthur. I’m trying very hard to be good now. 🙃

Arthur: STOP CALLING ME UNCLE. 😭

Gwen (👰🏽🌟): I think this is beautiful. Mordred is turning over a new leaf 🍃. The leaf is slightly cursed, but it’s progress. 💖

Mordred: Aunt Gwen is so understanding as always. You don't deserve her. It is all water under the bridge now. 🌊

Arthur: THIS IS WHERE YOU TRIED TO DROWN ME LAST TIME! 💦😡

Gwaine (💘⚔️): Brooding teen adopted by two unstable magical icons? This is peak found family. I’m crying. 😭 Also not to be dramatic, but if Merlin and Morgana don’t end up with at least 5 children, what’s the point of love? 💞✨

Percival (🛡️🥺): He made me a cursed little clay horse. I’ve named it Butterhoof. 🐎 It bites people who lie near it. I love him. ❤️

🧨 Morgause (💄🗡️🔥) has joined the chat. 🧨

Morgause: So. You’ve adopted the little doomsday prophecy. Finally someone’s making sense. 😈 Mordred, darling, I’ll send you my grimoire. The one that screams when you open it. 💕📖🔥

Mordred (🎵🌿): Auntie Morgause!! Yes please!! Can we start with shadow binding? Or mirror fire? Or that spell you used to turn a bishop into bees? 🐝✨

Arthur (👑💢): NO. NO BEES. NO SPELLBOOKS THAT SCREAM. MORGANA. MERLIN. CONTROL YOUR SITUATION CHILD. 😭🆘

Morgana (🖤👑): Absolutely not. He’s not learning soul-splitting rituals from you, Morgause. ❌🖤

Merlin (👨‍🦱✨): We are starting with safe magic. No bees, no fire mirrors, no pacts with river gods. 🚫🐝🔥🌊

Morgause (💄🗡️🔥): Ugh. Sister you are so soft now and I am blaming your almost murderer for this. What happened to real training? I was summoning banshees at his age. 👻🔥

Arthur (👑💢): WHAT DO YOU MEAN "BANSHEES"? WHY ARE YOU ALL LIKE THIS? I AM SURROUNDED BY CHAOTIC WIZARD PARENTS? 😭⚡️👑

Lancelot (😩💐): I’d like to personally request Morgause not be allowed to mentor anyone. Respectfully. For everyone’s safety. 🙏🛡️

Morgause: Too late dear Lancelot. I’ve already sent Mordred a starter hex kit. 🧪📦 One vial giggles, one screams, and one turns water into soup. He’ll figure it out. 🍲😱

Lancelot (😩💐): Please do not directly address me, Morgause. 😰

Morgause (💄🗡️🔥): Still flinching at powerful women? Some things never change, sweet Lancelot. 💅 By the way, your new armor is very... flame-resistant. I approve. 🔥😉

Lancelot: I’m respectfully terrified. 😨

Gwaine (💘⚔️): Can we all agree she brings a very necessary “knife aunt energy” to the group? 🔪💥

Leon (🧱📏): Threat assessment updated: “Morgause — Glamorous but Unhinged (High Risk / High Drama)” ⚠️🎭

Merlin: YOU SENT HIM THE SOUP VIAL?! THAT’S LEVEL SIX CHAOS MAGIC. HE’S STILL ON LEAF-BOILING. 🍃🔥

Arthur (👑💢): I AM LITERALLY IN A PAPER BAG. IT IS VIBRATING. 😵📦

Morgana: Mordred, sweetie, you are not to open anything that giggles or sizzles without Merlin or me present. 🚫😈

Mordred (🎵🌿): Okay… but hypothetically, if I already opened the one that blinked? 👀

Arthur: OH GODS HE’S UNLEASHED SOMETHING THAT BLINKS?!?! 😱💀

Gwen (👰🏽🌟): Arthur. Breathe. You’re not alone in this. You’re just outnumbered. 💕🌿

Gaius (😐📜): I’ve updated the official documents: Mordred is now listed as “Dependent of the Realm (Chaotic Neutral).” Morgause is under “Wildcard Aunt (Possibly Feral).” 📝⚖️

Lancelot (😩💐): I’m just here to make sure no one dies before the second act. 🤞

Arthur: I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE MAIN CHARACTER. I AM THE KING! WHY NO ONE LISTENS TO ME? 😡👑

Percival (🛡️🥺): My king… he’s just a kid. Everyone deserves a second chance, even if they have tried to kill you. Multiple times. 🥲

Arthur (👑💢): DOESN'T ANYONE REMEMBER THE TIME HE WAS HOLDING A SWORD TO MY NECK?? 🛡️⚔️😡

Gwaine (💘⚔️): He said sorry with eye contact, Arthur. That’s legally binding in redemption arcs. 👀❤️

Leon (🧱📏): Okay. Let’s break this down. The murder was technically in a different timeline. Adopting Mordred may alter future events. He’s now listed in the defense roster as "probable ally," which statistically improves our chances by 7%. He does not yet have access to the treasury. 💼📊

Arthur (👑💢): DID YOU JUST DO A SWOT ANALYSIS ON MY TRAUMA?? 😵📉

Elyan (😎🔧): Look, if Merlin and Morgana want to co-parent a murder muppet, who are we to judge? This is character development. Let them be chaotic magical soccer moms. ⚽✨🧙‍♂️

Arthur (👑💢): MAGICAL. SOCCER. MOMS?? 😡

Morgana (🖤👑): He calls me "Mama Doom" 🥺💀

Merlin (👨‍🦱✨): And he calls me "Papa Sparkles" 🥹⚡️

Arthur (👑💢): I’M MUTING THIS GROUP. I’M MUTING ALL OF YOU. FOR ETERNITY. 🔇🕰️

Gaius (😐📜): Please check the Realm Health Insurance Form. Mordred is now under “Magical Dependents & Potential Threats.” ⚕️🧙‍♂️

Gwen (👰🏽🌟): Reminder: All magical guardians must now attend quarterly parenting workshops. I signed Merlin and Morgana up for “Raising Your Murder Baby Without Summoning Plagues.” You’re welcome. 😌📚

Lancelot (🛡️😤💐): It’s okay, Arthur. We’ll all survive this. I think. 🤞😅

Mordred (🎵🌿): I wrote a song called "Please Don’t Yell, I’m Healing." It has twelve verses and light ukulele. 🎸😌

Arthur (👑💢): NO MORE LUTES. I BEG OF YOU. 😭🎶🚫

🔥🐉 Great Dragon has joined the chat 🔥🐉 ✨🐉 Aithusa has joined the chat ✨🐉

Great Dragon (🔥🐉): “MERLIN! WHAT IS THIS INSANITY?! YOU’VE ADOPTED THE DOOMSDAY PROPHECY AND EXPECT ME TO JUST... CHILL?!

Merlin (👨‍🦱✨): “Yeah, about that… since when have you ever been calm? Didn’t expect a change today either.”

Arthur (👑💢): “FINALLY, SOMEONE WHO GETS IT. MAYBE WE SHOULD START A SUPPORT GROUP—’DRAGONS AND KINGS ANONYMOUS.’ MEETINGS EVERYDAY, TEARS AND FIRE BREATHING INCLUDED.”

Great Dragon (🔥🐉): “COUNT ME IN. I’LL BRING THE FLAMES, YOU BRING THE PAPER BAG. WE’LL SURVIVE THIS MADNESS TOGETHER.”

Arthur (👑💢): “BEST ALLY I’VE HAD ALL DAY. FINALLY, SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS THE STRUGGLE.”

Aithusa (🐉✨): “Mordred’s my little brother now! I’m rooting for him! But seriously, NO MORE FIRE MAGIC WITHOUT A DRAGON ON CALL. Last time I got involved, I literally turned into a frog. 🐸😱”

Morgana (🖤👑): “Relax, my little dragonling. We have everything totally under control. (…Or as under control as Mordred and magic get.)”

Arthur (👑💢): “NO, YOU DON'T! SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN WHY I’M THE KING AND YET I FEEL LIKE THE CIRCUS CLOWN! 🤡👑🔥

🆕 Group Name Changed by Elyan: “Destiny? We Don’t Know Her 🧙‍♂️🖤🔪👨‍👩‍👦” (Renamed 14 times in 35 minutes)

Arthur renamed the group: “Everyone Is Insane Except Me 😡👑” (15 renames total)

Gwaine renamed the group: “Papa Sparkles & Mama Doom’s Murder Baby 💕🧨” (16 total)

Arthur: has left the chat (Muting enabled for 48 hours)

48 Hours Later…

Arthur (👑💢): I UNMUTED FOR TEN SECONDS. WHY IS THE GROUP NAME NOW: “MORDRED & THE TRAUMA BAND (feat. Screaming Bag) 🎤😭”???

Merlin: Oh you saw that? Gwen thought of the name 😌🎶

Arthur: combusted in righteous indignation. 🔥💢💥👑

Gaius: I’ll get the aloe.

[bookishwriter7]

The saddest parallel ever

I truly believe Merlin’s first and last genuinely happy moment was the instant he excitedly laid eyes on Camelot for the very first time. In that brief moment, he was just a boy filled with hope and wonder—unaware of the immense burden that destiny would soon place upon his shoulders. And Merlin, both times, carries something on his shoulders. It looks like a backpack, but it is in fact the destiny of a great kingdom that rests on his shoulders—his present and his future. That heavy responsibility, thrust upon someone so young and vulnerable, slowly consumed him from within, shaping every choice he made, all the demons he faced, causing all the darkness he wrestled with, and bearing every sacrifice he endured.

Yet, despite all his efforts and unwavering loyalty, it ultimately felt like everything was for nothing. The ideal of a glorious future slipped through his fingers, leaving him haunted by the cost of a fate he never truly chose.

There is a profound realism in that bitter truth — not every hero finds peace, and not every destiny culminates in triumph. Merlin’s story is a quiet tragedy, a meditation on sacrifice, loss, and the loneliness of bearing a weight no one else can see. It’s precisely this bittersweet complexity that lingers, making his journey so hauntingly unforgettable.

[bookishwriter7]

Beginning and End (A Mergana Villain origin story)

There’s something almost poetic and also ironic about how Merlin and Morgana’s entire arc is wrapped up in the language of beginnings and endings. It’s not subtle. Their first big episode together is literally titled The Beginning of the End. And what does Merlin do? He smuggles baby Mordred — future bringer of Arthur’s doom — into Morgana’s chambers like it’s just another Tuesday and forming their bond. That moment? That’s not just a beginning — that’s destiny tripping over itself to make sure Merlin accidentally lights the fuse on his own downfall.

Fast forward to the end of Season 1, and Morgana corners Merlin and warns him, “This is only the beginning.” This in fandom language is: “I’ve seen the future and trust me, it’s a dumpster fire.”

Then comes Season 2’s The Nightmare Begins. Spoiler alert: the nightmare begins because Merlin chooses not to tell Morgana he has magic. Which, let’s be clear, was a choice. She’s terrified, isolated, and stuck living in Uther’s palace — a man who treats magic like it personally murdered his entire family in cold blood (half of it at least). Merlin could’ve said, “Hey, you’re not alone.” Instead, he gaslights her into silence while the dragon hisses from the sidelines, “You must let her die.” (Thanks for the emotional support, Kilgharrah. Truly.)

Let’s talk about that lizard for a second. The dragon’s whole brand is spewing destiny like it's gospel — but he’s also catastrophically bad at reading people. “She cannot be trusted, young warlock,” he says, as if pushing Merlin toward attempted murder isn’t exactly the kind of thing that might cause a person to spiral. And when Merlin ENDS Morgana as she used to be via poison to “save” Camelot? That’s not just betrayal. That’s trauma with a side of trust issues. She wakes up realizing the one person she believed in tried to kill her. And why wouldn’t she think it’s because of her magic? Uther made her fear it. Merlin confirmed she was right to.

From that moment on, it’s not just the nightmare that begins — it’s Morgana’s villain arc. And it’s Merlin who wrote the prologue.

By Season 3’s finale, she looks Merlin dead in the eyes and says their war is just beginning. "This has just begun" The real tragedy? They could’ve had the ultimate enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-fated-rivals arc. There was chemistry. There was tension. There were looks. But the writers, in their infinite wisdom (read: fear of powerful narrative potential), shut that door and bolted it.

And then there’s the end. After everything — the lies, the betrayals, the quiet moments that could’ve meant something — Merlin finally kills Morgana and says, “This has to end.” The dramatic irony is staggering. He was her beginning, and now, he’s her end. He lit the match, watched it burn, and then wondered why there was a fire.

At last, he admits — finally — that he played a role in her downfall. Not just as her enemy, but as her creator. The great dragon said she was beyond saving, but maybe, just maybe, she never needed saving — just someone to see her. And Merlin, despite all his power, never truly did.

What we got was a tragedy. Two characters bound by fate, torn by choices, and doomed to repeat a cycle of silence and heartbreak. Because alas — vision was not on the writers’ mood board.

And somewhere in the distance, Kilgharrah dramatically sighs, “It was always her destiny.” Sure, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

[bookishwriter7]

“The one where Merlin admits he poisoned Morgana and Gwaine starts designing save-the-dates before Arthur finishes screaming.” 💀💍📣

🥀 Group Chat: “Merlgana: The Couple That Almost Killed Each Other (Twice)” (Renamed 34 times. Arthur is one notification away from fleeing into the woods.)

Merlin: So I have a super casual hypothetical question... 🤔😅 Arthur: Do I have to sit down or start screaming now? 🪑😤 Merlin: If someone hypothetically poisoned someone, then hypothetically made sure her evil sister knew how to brew the antidote, and now they’re hypothetically dating— 😬💀💘 Arthur: MERLIIIIIN. NO! 😱 Merlin: Okay, before anyone panics— 🙏 Arthur: THAT LINE NEVER HELPS! 😡 Merlin: I may have... accidentally poisoned Morgana. Once. Briefly. With love. 🧪💋🖤 Everyone: ... 🧠🔻📉

Leon: This group chat needs a therapist. 🧠 Elyan: What do you mean may have?? Percival: My man. That’s not a may thing. 💀 Morgana: I did technically almost die, yes. 💋💀 Gwen: And now you two are truly in love? ❤️ Merlin: Uhhh… yes? 🫣 Morgana: Hopelessly. 💘 Gwen: Just checking. Please continue. 😌

Arthur: YOU POISONED MY SISTER AND NOW YOU’RE DATING HER?! I DON’T KNOW WHICH IS WORSE! 😤 Merlin: It was during the Sleeping Curse! I panicked! There were cursed knights! The Great Dragon told me it was the only way to save everyone else! It was a very emotional Tuesday. 😓🐉 Gwen: I mean... if you think about it... it technically worked. 🤷‍♀️ Lancelot: Merlin, I consider you my best friend... but you poisoned your girlfriend and hid it from us?? 💔 Merlin: I was going to tell you! I just… forgot. For three seasons. 😬 Gwaine: AND I’VE BEEN SHIPPING IT SINCE SEASON ONE. “Friends to Enemies to Lovers, with attempted homicide” is my favorite trope. 😍✨ Percival: He made a fanmix. There were tambourines. Again. 🎶🥁 Arthur: MY MANSERVANT POISONED MY SISTER AND GWAINE IS OUT HERE MAKING PLAYLISTS AND ROMANTICIZING HOMICIDE?! 😠

Gaius has joined the chat. Gaius: What fresh chaos have I walked into? 🧙‍♂️ Gwen: Merlin poisoned Morgana, they’re still in love, Arthur is combusting, and Gwaine is writing fanfic. 🔥💞📝 Gaius: Ah. A Tuesday. It was finally time my boy had closure about the poisoning incident. Arthur: YOU TOO, GAIUS?! 😡 Gaius: Look, my lord, Merlin needs a confidant. His destiny anxiety is severe. He’s under a lot of pressure trying to save you all the time. Have you tried mentoring someone who cries over soup? 🍲😭 Arthur: STOP MAKING THIS MY FAULT! 😩

Morgause has joined the chat. Morgause: I went away for one weekend to the Isle of the Blessed and came back to find my sister cuddling with the man who killed her via herbal sabotage?! 🌿🔪 Arthur: FINALLY A VOICE OF REASON! Morgause: This entire affair is disgraceful, reckless, and sentimentally offensive! 👀 Arthur: THANK YOU! 🙌 Morgause: …Also, Lancelot, call me sometime. 😘 Lancelot: Why ?? 😱😐 Gwaine: You’re tragically handsome and she’s emotionally unstable. That’s a ship with sails. 🚢💘 Morgana: Oh no. Gwaine’s matchmaking again. 😒 Gwen: Last time he did this, poor Leon nearly eloped with a willow nymph. 🧝‍♀️ Leon: I said I don’t want to talk about it! 😤

Lancelot: Merlin, I’m here for you—but if she stabs you again, I will hide you into a moat for your own safety. 🛡️💦 Merlin: Love you too, bro! 🥹❤️ Morgana: I CAN READ THIS, YOU KNOW! 🔪 Arthur: CAN WE GO BACK TO THE PART WHERE YOU POISONED HER AND NOW YOU’RE PLANNING A LIFE TOGETHER?! 😭 Gwaine: Arthur, this is the slow-burn payoff: years of tension, betrayal, loyalty, poison—real romance. 💍🔥 Percival: He wrote vows. 😭✒️ Arthur: MERLIIIIIIN. YOU. ARE. NOT. ALLOWED. TO. MARRY. MY. SISTER. 🧨 Morgause: I second that. With evil stares and, probably, 20 murder plans involving a certain warlock. 🧪🖤 Morgana: You are such a drama queen, Morgause! 🙄👑 Merlin: Gwen said the wedding is character development! 🕊️💐 Gwen: It is. They’ve matured and resolved conflict. It is emotional growth through botanical disaster. 🌿❤️

Merlin: So maybe this isn’t the right time to talk about... the stairs? 🪜 Arthur: WHAT STAIRS?! 😱 Gwen: Abort. Arthur is spiraling again. 🫢 Arthur: I AM NOT SPIRALING. I AM THE ONLY SANE PERSON IN THIS CHAT ROOM AND PROBABLY THE ENTIRE KINGDOM! 😤👑 Merlin: In my defense, that time was an accident and I did fight the dragon to get her a cure. 🐉🗡️ Morgana: He’s so deadly romantic when he wants to be. 🖤✨ Gwaine: My OTP is even better than I hoped. I’m going to need a full timeline. Annotated. With GIFs. 📚📸 Arthur: GWAINE, I SWEAR— Gwaine: Shhh. This is love, princess. 👑💕

The Great Dragon has joined the chat. The Great Dragon: DESTINY IS COLLAPSING. STARS ARE WEEPING. ROMANCE IS A CAGE OF CHAOS. 🌌🔥 Merlin: Bro, you yell in riddles and still haven’t processed your abandonment issues. 🙃 Morgana: Someone mute Smaug’s dramatic cousin. 🔇🗣️ The Great Dragon: YOU WITCH… 🐉💢

Aithusa has joined the chat. Aithusa: 🐲✨ My beautiful OTP. I drew them holding hands in front of a burning castle. Morgana: My sweet chaos noodle, I love you. 💞🐲 Gwaine: Finally, someone who gets me. Love you too, little thing—even though I just met you. Can I see the drawing? Let’s exchange fanart! 🎨🖌️ Aithusa: Morgana is the best. Merlin is my dad and he makes her smile, so he can stay. I would love to see your fanart fellow shipper. 💕👨‍👩‍👧 The Great Dragon: THIS IS HERESY. AITHUSA I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! 😡 Aithusa: You raised me on dramatic destiny, and now you’re mad I crave plot twists? 🤷‍♂️📖

Arthur: Gaius, please, make this stop. 😩 Gaius: I once reattached a man’s ear with tree sap. This is worse.🌿 Gwaine: So! Wedding theme ideas: “Poisonous Passion” or “Till Death (Stairs Optional)”? 💀💐 Arthur: I AM NOT PAYING FOR A CAKE SHAPED LIKE A VIAL OF POISON. 🍰☠️ Gwen: You know we’ll cover it, love. It’s romantic symbolism. 🥰

Gwaine changed the group name to: 💀 Merlgana: Poison, Passion, and Petty Siblings Arthur changed it to: I’m Not Officiating This 😠 Morgause changed it to: Lancelot’s Jawline Deserves Better 😍 Gaius changed it to: Please Stop Involving Me 😫 Lancelot changed it to: Merlin’s Unstoppable Love Life (Send Help) 🚨 Gwen changed it to: Let People Love (And Maybe Talk About It First) 🥀 Aithusa changed it to:💖Morgana & Merlin Forever: Stab Me Gently With Affection💖

Arthur muted the chat for 3 days.

Arthur rejoined after 6 minutes:

“I JUST FOUND A SAVE-THE-DATE THAT BLEEDS GLITTER AND SINGS ‘LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD’ WHEN OPENED AND I AM GOING TO SCREAM 😱💥.”

[bookishwriter7]

Incorrect Mergana Chat Group

💬 Group Chat: “Of Spells & Scandals: Merlgana is so canon that it hurts” (Originally named “Strategic Defense Council.” Renamed 8 times by Gwaine. Arthur gave up.)

Merlin: Morgana and I are… dating. Yes, willingly. No, I’m not cursed (I think). Morgana: Don’t flatter yourself. It’s strategic affection. Arthur: MERLIIIIIIIN THIS IS TREASON! Gwen: Deep breaths, love. He’s not marrying a wyvern. Gwaine: I KNEW IT. I CALLED IT. I HAD FAN ART READY. Percival: He did. It’s worryingly detailed. There’s glitter. Elyan: Is this a romantic subplot or are we all just hallucinating from magical fumes again? Leon: I’d like to resign and/or be knighted somewhere less emotionally compromised. Lancelot: If love can heal kingdoms, perhaps theirs might only slightly singe it. Arthur: STOP MAKING THIS SOUND POETIC. Gwen: Darling, it’s called growth. Try it. Gwaine: I volunteer as best man. Or flower girl. Or dramatic wedding narrator. Merlin: You already wrote a ballad. Morgana: He performed it at 3am. Outside my window. With tambourines. Gwaine: I REGRET NOTHING. The Great Dragon has joined the chat. The Great Dragon: MERLIN, YOU FOOL. THIS IS A VIOLATION OF ALL FATED DESTINIES— Merlin: Hi. Still not listening. Morgana: He brought this on himself when he made himself cryptic and emotionally underdeveloped. Gaius: As your physician—and the man who’s treated everything from magical bites to your mood swings—I’ll allow it. Cautiously. But if this ends in possession, prophecy collapse, or kissing-related spell damage, I want it on record that I said “maybe don’t.”. Arthur: WHY IS EVERYONE OKAY WITH THIS? Gwaine: Because love wins, Arthur. Also chaos. Mostly chaos.

Arthur changed the group name to: “Strategic Defense Council” Gwaine changed it back to: “🔥Merlgana is so canon that it hurts” Arthur muted the chat for 12 hours Arthur rejoined after 3 minutes with: “ALSO YOU’RE NOT SITTING TOGETHER AT FEASTS. THAT’S LAW.”

[bookishwriter7]

Mergana incorrect chat group

(Group name: "🔥Team Camelot (and Also Morgana, Apparently)")

Merlin: Morgana hexed me then helped me bandage the wound 😍 what does it mean?

Morgana: it means I’m thorough. don’t read into it, dumbass.

Gwaine: ship. SHIP SHIP SHIP . also Morgana ur new name is Mrs. Emrys now, sorry I don’t make the rules #Merlgana4ever

Arthur: WHAT IS HAPPENING? WHY ARE THERE HEART EMOJIS NEXT TO MY SISTER'S NAME? MERLIIIIN DELETE THAT!

Gwen: you’re all idiots but honestly… at least they communicate better than you and I did, Arthur.

Gaius: I am too old for this. Just don't burn the kingdom down while you are at it Merlin.

The Great Dragon has left the chat.

The Great Dragon added himself back.

MERLIN I SHALL BURN THIS ENTIRE KINGDOM TO THE GROUND! YOU AND THE WITCH ARE NOT HAPPENING! 🔥

[bookishwriter7]

Incorrect Mergana quotes

Morgana: Traitor

Merlin: Murderer

Intense eye contact for like one minute

Gwaine (swooping in with a goblet in each hand): Could you two maybe insult each other with less… eye contact? I’m already planning your wedding playlist and you’re making it hard to decide between dramatic orchestral or passionate lute ballads.

Merlin and Morgana turn away at the same time, both muttering something about “poison” and “tragic taste in men.”

Gwaine: You two need your own bard (heart eyes)

[bookishwriter7]

I just love the fact that Colin and Katie weren’t even supposed to be in this scene, but both asked to be—just to have Merlin and Morgana stare at each other with looks that said, “We will either fuck or kill each other. It’s debatable. Or we can do both—both is good.”

We were robbed of so many things because Merlin was labeled a family show that couldn’t dare to delve into a darker relationship like this. The actors would be totally on board with it and scenes like this prove it.

[bookishwriter7]

It's really funny how Morgana has just threatened Merlin in every possible way, and yet Merlin stares at her like, "What a woman you are!", trying to calm himself down after their little alcove encounter.