Merlin BBC Merlin they could never make me form a solid opinion about you !!! World’s bravest coward. The most loyal traitor. The most honest liar. The gentlest murderer. Destroys everything trying to avoid destruction. What a guy !!!!!!!
Something about Merlin being allegorical to the concept of the “perfect queer person”. A queer person who allies themselves with their oppressors, hides their identity, and does as they’re told. Someone who never allows themselves the things they desire most and always puts the goals of their oppressors over the community they would be readily accepted by. Someone who would go so far as to betray the rest of their community to avoid disrupting the status quo, despite knowing they’ll never be truly accepted, loved or respected. At first it was out of survival, but eventually it’s out of habit, because this is how they learn to live.
“Magic will never have a place in Camelot” was the single line that forever condemned Merlin and every magic user to a lifetime of suffering, and the judge jury and executioner was the boy who was supposed to be their saviour, who forgot how to want to be free.
For @merthurmicrofic | Prompt: Kneel | Word Count: 1334
Arthur hated losing.
This was a truth as old as Camelot itself, a truth woven into the stone of the castle and the very shape of his smile. Arthur lost badly, with wounded dignity and endless complaints. He accused people of cheating. He demanded rematches. He insisted that the rules had somehow changed halfway through the game.
Which was why Merlin treasured every victory like a dragon hoarding gold.
The wager had begun over breakfast.
It had started, as most of Camelot's disasters did, with Arthur being unbearably smug.
"You couldn't beat me if your life depended on it," Arthur said.
Merlin looked up from his porridge.
"I beat you all the time," Merlin replied.
"You beat me once," Arthur argued.
"Three times," Merlin corrected.
"Once, Arthur insisted.
"Three," Merlin said.
"One," Arthur shot back.
"Gaius counted," Merlin said.
"Gaius is old," Arthur replied.
"Gwaine counted," Merlin added.
"Gwaine can't count," Arthur said.
And somehow, because neither of them possessed even the smallest instinct for self-preservation, this had spiralled into a competition involving archery, sword drills, horse racing, strategy games, and a final deciding round of dice that attracted half the knights and most of the servants as spectators.
The terms were simple:
If Arthur won, Merlin would do anything he asked.
If Merlin won, Arthur would do anything he asked.
The certainty in Arthur's face had been almost painful to witness. Merlin had nearly felt bad for him.
Hours later, standing in the middle of the courtyard surrounded by cheering knights, Merlin was trying extremely hard not to grin. Arthur was trying extremely hard not to look as though his entire worldview had collapsed.
"You cheated," Arthur accused.
"I didn't," Merlin said.
"You definitely cheated," Arthur said.
"I definitely didn't," Merlin replied.
Arthur pointed accusingly at the dice as though they had personally betrayed him.
"They're crooked," Arthur declared.
Leon picked them up.
"They're normal," Leon said.
Arthur pointed at Merlin.
"He's crooked," Arthur said.
"Thank you," Merlin said.
"That wasn't a compliment," Arthur replied.
The knights were laughing now.
Even Lance.
Even Percival.
Even Elyan, who was usually wise enough to stay out of arguments involving Arthur's pride.
Arthur crossed his arms. The posture was meant to look kingly. Unfortunately, it mostly looked like a sulking child refusing vegetables.
"Fine," he said.
Merlin brightened immediately. "Fine?"
"Fine," Arthur repeated. The word sounded physically painful.
"You won," Arthur admitted.
"I did," Merlin agreed.
Arthur glared. Merlin smiled wider. Arthur glared harder. Merlin somehow smiled even wider.
The courtyard collectively leaned closer.
Everyone wanted to know what Merlin would ask for.
Arthur was expecting something dreadful.
Perhaps weeks of chores. Maybe public humiliation. Possibly an entire speech about how wonderful Merlin was.
The possibilities were endless and horrifying.
Merlin pretended to think. He tapped his chin. He paced in a slow circle around Arthur. Arthur narrowed his eyes.
The knights were practically vibrating with anticipation.
Finally, Merlin stopped.
"Oh," Merlin said.
His face lit up.
The expression alone made Arthur suspicious.
"Oh no," Arthur said.
"Oh yes," Merlin replied.
"No," Arthur said.
Merlin's grin became absolutely unbearable.
"Arthur"
"Merlin"
"I know what I want," Merlin said.
Arthur sighed the sigh of a man approaching his own execution.
"What?" Arthur asked.
Merlin folded his arms.
Then, very carefully, very deliberately, he said:
"Kneel"
The courtyard exploded. Gwaine nearly fell over. Elyan doubled over laughing. Several servants made noises that suggested they might never recover.
Arthur stared. Merlin stared back.
The silence stretched.
"Kneel," Merlin ordered.
Arthur looked genuinely offended.
"I am the king," Arthur said.
"You're the loser," Merlin replied.
More laughter.
Arthur looked ready to outlaw joy itself.
"You cannot be serious," Arthur said.
"I am entirely serious," Merlin answered.
Arthur looked around desperately for support. He found none. Traitors. Every single one of them. Leon was visibly trying not to smile. Lance was failing. Even Gwen had appeared on a balcony and was covering her mouth with one hand.
Arthur looked back at Merlin. Merlin was standing there with sunlight caught in his dark hair, eyes bright with triumph, trying so hard to look authoritative and failing because there was laughter dancing at the corners of his mouth.
Arthur felt something in his chest soften. It happened often around Merlin. Far too often.
The thing was, Merlin wasn't asking for power. Everyone else might have. Many people would have used a victory like this to make a point. To prove something. To embarrass a king.
But Merlin looked delighted in exactly the way he had when they were younger, when they were both idiots and Arthur was still learning that the strange servant who followed him everywhere had somehow become the centre of his world.
Merlin simply wanted to win. Wanted proof that he had. Wanted this story. Wanted to spend the next decade reminding Arthur about it. Arthur could already hear it.
Remember that time I made the king kneel?
Remember that time everyone saw?
Remember that time you looked so miserable?
A lifetime of torment. Arthur was doomed. And somehow, looking at Merlin's face, he found that he didn't particularly mind. Because Merlin was laughing. Because he was happy. Because that expression was worth more than Arthur's dignity had ever been.
The realization settled over him with surprising ease.
There were very few things Arthur would not give Merlin: his loyalty, his trust, his life, his kingdom, if it came to it.
A bruised ego was hardly worth mentioning.
The courtyard had gone quiet again.
Everyone was waiting.
Arthur looked at Merlin.
Merlin lifted one eyebrow.
Arthur sighed dramatically.
Then he dropped to one knee. The reaction was immediate.
Cheers erupted from every corner of the courtyard. Someone actually whooped. Gwaine was definitely crying from laughter.
Arthur ignored them all.
Because Merlin had suddenly gone still. The grin remained. But something softer had slipped underneath it.
Arthur looked up.
And there it was.
The moment he always found himself chasing.
Merlin's surprise.
Merlin never expected things from him. Not really. Even now. Even after all these years. Even after countless battles and promises and impossible acts of faith. Some part of Merlin always seemed startled whenever Arthur chose him. Whenever Arthur stepped willingly toward him. Whenever Arthur gave him something without being forced.
Arthur looked at him from where he knelt.
The position should have felt ridiculous. Instead, it felt oddly natural. Because it was Merlin. Because if Merlin asked, Arthur would always answer.
Not because of the wager. Not because of the crowd. Not because he was trapped.
Simply because it was Merlin.
The devotion sat openly in Arthur's eyes, unhidden and unashamed.
And Merlin saw it. Arthur knew he saw it.
The laughter around them faded. Not literally. The knights were still making enough noise to wake dragons. But suddenly the world felt smaller.
Merlin swallowed. For one brief second, he looked completely undone.
As though Arthur had somehow turned the joke around. As though the victory had become something else entirely.
Arthur smiled, a small smile. Soft around the edges.
Merlin's expression immediately became suspicious.
"What?" Merlin asked.
Arthur's smile widened.
"What, what?" Arthur asked.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Merlin asked.
"Like what?" Arthur replied.
"That," Merlin said.
Arthur considered.
Then, with absolute sincerity, said:
"You won."
Merlin's ears turned red.
"Oh, shut up," Merlin muttered.
Arthur laughed.
The sound was warm and bright and impossible to regret. And when Merlin finally offered him a hand to help him up, Arthur took it immediately. As though there had never been any question. As though there never would be.
The courtyard remembered the day as the day Merlin made the king kneel.
Arthur remembered it differently. Arthur remembered Merlin's triumphant smile. The way the sunlight caught in his hair. The startled softness that appeared when Arthur willingly gave him what he wanted. And most of all, Arthur remembered looking up from one knee and finding that the easiest thing in the world was loving him.
Broke: They had to have Dolma as an old lady because a young woman would have been too recognizable for Arthur, who regularly clocks Merlin’s disguises through his eyes alone.
Woke: They had to have Dolma as an old lady because a young woman would have sent Morgana Pendragon barreling out of her bog to make an introduction to the pretty new sorceress in town.
Bespoke: Gwaine was not allowed to meet Dolma as an old lady because he would have flirted with her on sight and Merlin would have gone with it.
