I've recently started writing Merlin content, Merthur specifically. I'm new to the fandom (I'm still surprised it's still alive!), so I hope my content is of your liking.
My merthur stories in tumblr:
Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (All parts and related posts)
Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU (All parts and related posts)
Merlin arrives with a baby in Camelot AU (All parts and related posts)
My merthur stories in AO3:
Leaves Fall, Blood Flows: based on my Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU. Related posts: #Leave Falls Blood Flows.
The Dragonlord's son series: Canon divergence/magic reveal of "The last dragonlord" episode where Kilgharrah kidnaps Merlin after Arthur discovers him doing magic and it spirals from there. Related posts: #The Dragonlord's son series
̶I̶ ̶L̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ I Hate You! : transcription of my Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU. Related posts: #̶I̶ ̶L̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ I Hate You!
Merlin, Enchanted (co written with @tansyuduri ): A more darker turn of "A Servant of Two Masters", based on this prompt/ask COMPLETE ✅️
Recover By My Side (co written with @tansyuduri ): based on my prompt Arthur thinks Merlin was raped (but he wasn't). COMPLETE ✅️
From the Grave to the Cradle: Time travel AU where Merlin from 1500 years in the future kidnaps baby Arthur and gives him to a married couple in Ealdor for them to raise as their own. Related posts: #From the Grave to the Cradle CURRENTLY ON PAUSE! ⏸️
Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 , Part 11 , Part 12 , Part 13 , Part 14, Part 15 , Part 16 , Part 17 , Part 18 , Part 19 (You're here) , 20 (FINAL PART/FOR REAL THIS TIME, I SWEAR)
Gwen and Elyan's new residence.
For Merlin, recovering naturality with Gwen hasn't been an easy road. Overcoming the awkwardness between them, his own guilt, has been a slow, careful process. But they both make an effort, refusing to lose their friendship. As they eat at Gwen's new home, Merlin can't say they are back as they used to be. But they are getting there.
However, today Merlin didn't just come to pass the time.
Gwen: What?
Merlin: Morgana told me herself. The bracelet Shade Lancelot gave you made you cheat. I'm sorry I'm only telling you now. The memory just came to me two nights ago.
Being able to clear Lancelot's name had been a big relief. Arthur had been glad when Merlin told him, thankful that the noblest of his knights and a great friend had never really betrayed him. The knights had felt similarly, though they were also ashamed they hadn't realized for themselves. But for Gwen, that knowledge hadn't changed much. Lancelot not being Lancelot didn't erase her mistake. It just made her a fool who fell for Morgana's trap. And Merlin could see that.
This piece of information, however, does change things.
Merlin expects Gwen to be instantly relieved. Happy, even. But she remains silent, thoughtful.
Merlin: Gwen?
Gwen: Is that exactly what Morgana told you? That if it weren't for the bracelet, I wouldn't have fallen for Lancelot again?
Merlin: (a flicker of hesitation) Yes.
Gwen: I want complete honesty Merlin. What exactly did the bracelet do?
Merlin: (carefully) She said… it awakened what was already there.
Gwen: You mean my feelings.
Merlin: Yes. But the choice to act on them wasn't yours! The enchantment pushed you past your own will.
Gwen: So… like you when you drank at the tavern that day.
Merlin: (stiffens) That's—That's hardly the same!
Gwen: How? Your feelings for Arthur were already there, weren't they? And the alcohol made you act on them. Just as the bracelet did with my feelings for Lancelot.
Merlin: (opens his mouth and closes it)
Gwen: (a sad smile) You wanted to lift a burden. And you have. Knowing it wasn't entirely my choice… that helps. More than you know. (A pause) But I won't pretend I was completely innocent. Something did stir in me when I saw Lancelot was back. Way before he gave me the bracelet.
Merlin: Gwen…
Gwen: Have you told anyone else?
Merlin: (shakes his head) I thought you deserved to know first.
Gwen: Good. Don't tell anyone else.
Merlin: (startled) What? But—
Gwen: There's no need to open an old wound over this. I know now I wasn't the fool I thought I was. For me, that's enough. (squeezes his hand and smiles sincerely) Thank you.
Merlin: (smiles) You're remarkable, you know that?
Gwen: (laughs) Oh, I know.
A knock at the door. A maidservant enters, followed by Gwaine and Percival.
Maidservant: Forgive me, my lady. These gentlemen came to retrieve… The king’s manservant.
Gwaine: (sweeping in with a dramatic bow) Your favourite escort has arrived.
Merlin: (instantly flushes to his ears and covers his face) Ugh. He has to stop doing this. What part of 'discreet' does he not understand?
Percival: Mate, you were kidnapped, then you had an attack in the market. These measures are understandable.
Merlin: (drops his hands, indignant) I'm not weak. I'm the most powerful sorcerer—
Gwaine: To ever walk the earth, yeah, yeah. You can tell us all about it while we walk.
Merlin: (sighs, and turns to Gwen) See you soon.
Gwen: I'll hold you to that.
Gwaine throws an arm around Merlin's shoulders, ignoring the glare he receives, and steers him toward the door, Percival following. Gwen watches them go, a genuine smile warming her face.
Time skip. Outside The Summer fortress.
The king has been cracking his skull trying to prepare his first date with Merlin. It's proven quite difficult, because it's Merlin who normally helps him with these things. Merlin organized his dates with Gwen, suggested romantic gestures, made everything run smoothly. Now Arthur is on his own.
He thought of a hunting trip, but Merlin hates hunting. He thought of a picnic, but he already did that with Gwen, and Merlin knew it. That might not go over well. After much agonizing thinking, he finally settled on this.
Arthur and Merlin arrive on horseback, Gwaine and Percival trailing behind. The fortress rises before them, elegant and secluded. They dismount.
Merlin: (squinting up at it) Is this a fortress?
Arthur: A summer fortress, yes. (A bit nervous) Do you like it?
Merlin: (confused, thinking) Since when does Arthur ask my opinion about a rock structure? (Says) It looks… nice?
Arthur: (visibly relieved) Good. Great.
Merlin: (frowns, worry creeping in) Is there a problem? Has something happened in the area? Is that why you were so rushed to come?
Arthur: No, not at all. I just… wanted to be here. With you.
Merlin: Why?
Arthur: (a beat) Merlin. A summer fortress is usually used by the king to take a rest from court. Or to hold… small private meetings.
Merlin: (stares at him blankly)
Arthur: You know. Because it's secluded. And… private.
Merlin: (still staring) You… need to discuss something very privately?
Gwaine: (to Percival in a loud whisper) Is he serious?
Percival: (equally loud whisper) Shh.
Arthur: (pinches the bridge of his nose) Merlin. I brought you to a secluded fortress. Just the two of us. With no court, no responsibilities. (Looks at Merlin meaningfully) For an extended period of time.
Merlin: (keeps staring, still not getting it) … Right.
Gwaine: (unable to contain himself) Mate. He wants to spend time alone with you. (Gestures wildly between them) Just the two of you. Alone. It's a date!
Merlin: (eyes go wide) WHAT?!
Percival: Yeah. Very romantic, right?
Merlin: (wheels on Arthur, scandalized) Why didn't you tell me we were having our first date?!
Arthur: (taken aback) I thought it would be a nice surprise?
Merlin: Surprise?! (Gestures at himself, at his plain servant's clothes) You gave me no time to prepare! I could have dressed better! This is our first date, goddammit!
Arthur: (stares at him for a moment, then a slow grin spreads across his face) You're worried about your clothes?
Merlin: (flustered) Of course I'm worried about my clothes! This is important! I may not have luxury clothes like you, but I definitely have better garments than this (Jabs a finger at his tunic) and I would have worn them if I'd known—I'm not a girl!!
Arthur: (holds up his hands, still grinning) I didn't say anything!
Merlin: But you thought it! And don't you dare laugh. I'm actually angry!
Arthur: (warmly, placing a hand on Merlin's shoulder) You look handsome in anything you wear.
Merlin: (swats the hand away) Don't. Don't you dare apply your prince charming voice on me. It won't work.
Arthur: (delighted) I have a prince charming voice?
Merlin: (splutters) It’s not—it's just—Ugh! (grabs his pack from his horse and storms toward the fortress entrance)
Gwaine: Uh… I believe your date is not starting well.
Arthur: It will pass.
Percival: (doubtful) I don't know, Sire. He seemed genuinely upset.
Arthur: What are you two still doing here anyway? Go make guard!
Gwaine: (saluting lazily) Guarding the village, got it. (Nudges his horse) Come on, Perce. Let's leave His Royal Romanticness to his date.
Percival: (already turning his horse) Good luck, Sire. (Thinking) You'll need it.
Inside The Summer Fortress
Arthur enters. Merlin is hunched over his backpack, rifling through its contents with increasing frustration.
Arthur: (approaching) What are you doing?
Merlin: (not looking up) Looking for something decent to wear. Which I obviously don't have, because someone didn't mention we were going on our first date.
Arthur: You're still upset about that?
Merlin: (finally looks up, exasperated) So you get to make a good impression, but I don't? I look like I've been traveling for hours!
Arthur: We did travel for hours.
Merlin: That's not the point!
Arthur: (steps closer, wrapping his arms around Merlin from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck) Merlin. You are perfect just the way you are—
Merlin: (pulls away, stepping out of the embrace) No. I'm not in the mood.
Arthur: (thinking) Alright. He's really upset. (Says carefully) I can lend you some of my clothes. If you want.
Merlin: (pauses) You brought extra clothes?
Arthur: Yes.
Merlin: (lifts an eyebrow) Why?
Arthur: Well, this is a special occasion. I wanted to be… prepared.
Merlin: (stares at him, his eyebrow climbing higher)
Arthur: Okay. I see the problem now.
Merlin: (crosses his arms) Don't say.
Arthur: (takes a step closer) I'm sorry. I was so focused on making this perfect for you that I didn't think about how it would feel to be surprised. You're right. You deserved to prepare too.
Merlin: (some of the tension leaves his shoulders and murmurs) I wanted to look nice for you.
Arthur: You do look nice. (Holds up a hand before Merlin can argue) But I understand that's not the point. (Moves to his own pack, pulling out a folded tunic) Here. You can put this on.
The young warlock takes it, running his fingers over the fine fabric. It's soft, deep blue, with subtle silver embroidery at the collar. He's never worn something so rich before and suddenly it feels… inadequate.
Merlin: No. (Tries to hand it back) It's yours. I can't.
Arthur: (pushes it back toward him) Yes, you can. Now go change.
Merlin: Really. I was making a fuss out of nothing—
Arthur: It wasn't nothing—
Merlin: We're not even the same size—
Arthur: Merlin, I was an idiot and I screwed up. So let me fix it. Okay? Go change.
Merlin: (smiles) Only because you admitted you are an idiot so fervently. (Takes the clothes)
Merlin disappears into another room. Arthur sits on a couch, listening to the rustle of fabric, a warmth spreading through his chest.
When Merlin emerges, Arthur's breath catches. The tunic doesn’t quite fit, a bit loose on Merlin, but somehow it looks better than it ever did on Arthur. The color brings out Merlin’s eyes, and without the travel dust and worn fabric, Merlin looks… radiant. But there's something else. Something about Merlin wearing his clothes that sends a very different kind of heat through Arthur's veins.
Merlin: (uncomfortable, looking down at himself) It's big on me.
Arthur: …
Merlin: (looks up) Arthur?
Arthur: (snaps out of his daze, feeling heat creep up his neck) I—I'll go change too.
Merlin: Oh, okay. Let me get your—
Arthur: NO! (Composes himself) I mean… you're not my servant now. You're my date. I can manage on my own. (Grabs his pack and rushes out)
Merlin: (stares after him with a confused frown)
Time skip.
Merlin and Arthur sit at a beautifully set table. Food and drinks are artfully arranged. Everything is perfect. Merlin can see that Arthur really made an effort. The flowers, the meal. All clearly designed to impress, to romance, to show.
He should be happy.
But he can't enjoy it. Because he can't stop thinking about how loose the clothes are on him.
It's ridiculous, and he knows it. He's being petty and ungrateful and stupid. But there was a time when this tunic would have fit him perfectly. Before the tower. Before days without food, without water. Days in which he lost the muscle it took him years to build.
He's not exactly skinny now. He's regained some of what he lost, thanks to Gaius's careful feeding and weeks of rest. But it's still less than he used to have. And every time he looks down at the gaping fabric at his shoulders, at the way it hangs instead of fits, he remembers. He remembers the cold. The hunger. The way his body started eating itself just to keep him alive.
And it's frustrating. Because he's never been one to care about his looks. He's tripped through Camelot in oversized neckerchiefs and patched trousers for years without a second thought. But now he can't stop thinking about how ridiculous he must look.
Arthur is talking—about the food, about the fortress, about something—but Merlin's attention keeps drifting back to that one, terrible thought.
Arthur: (sets down his fork) Merlin? You've barely touched your drink.
Merlin: (startles) What? (Looks down at his full glass, then takes a hurried sip) Oh. It's good.
Arthur: (concerned) What is it? Is the food not good? I can have something else prepared—
Merlin: No, no, the food is wonderful. Everything is wonderful. (Forces a smile) Really. You did an amazing job.
Arthur: Then what's wrong?
Merlin: Nothing is wrong.
Arthur: Is this because of the clothes?
Merlin: (wincing) No.
Arthur: I thought we were past that.
Merlin: We are.
Arthur: Well, clearly not, because you're still upset.
Merlin: (voice rising) I'm not upset!
Arthur: You may have been good at lying before, but now you're terrible at it.
Merlin: Will you please just let it go?!
Arthur: (raises his voice too) No! You hiding things from me, and me doing nothing when I noticed something was wrong is what caused a bridge between us before.
Merlin: I just want to enjoy our date!
Arthur: Me too! But we won't be able to if you don't tell me what's wrong.
Merlin: Oh, you want to know what's wrong?
Arthur: Yes!
Merlin: What's wrong is that today, of all days, I wanted to feel like me. (His voice shakes) The me I was before Morgana fucked me up. With my own clothes, that actually fit. That made me look like myself. (Gestures at the tunic) And instead, I'm wearing your clothes looking like a child playing dress-up!
Arthur: …
Merlin: (his anger deflates, leaving only shame) I'm sorry. (Looks down) I know I'm being ungrateful and rude. I'm ruining everything, and you worked so hard for this. (His voice breaks) I'm sorry.
Arthur: (quickly rounds the table) No. Hey. (Cups Merlin's face) It's alright. If it's really that important to you, I'll have your clothes brought.
Merlin: (looking up, hopeful) Really?
Arthur: (smiles warmly) Really. (Leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to Merlin's lips) But just for the record, you don't look like a child. (His voice drops, eyes darkening slightly) Actually, the last thing I think when I see you in my clothes is that you look like a child.
Merlin: (hits Arthur's arm)
Arthur: (laughs softly, catching Merlin's hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles) And you are not ruining anything. We have at least two more weeks to enjoy ourselves here.
Merlin: I'm sorry—
Arthur: Don't. (Presses another kiss to Merlin's forehead) I'll send someone for your clothes. Okay? I'll be right back. (Leaves)
Time skip. Outside the Summer Fortress.
Gwaine: You want me to do what?!
Arthur: Bring Merlin's best clothes from his room.
Gwaine: (gesturing wildly) That's a day's ride from here!
Arthur: Well, you'd better get going, then.
Gwaine: Why not Percival?
Arthur: Because he has the size of two people, and I like him more. (Claps Gwaine on the shoulder) So go. Now.
Gwaine: (offended) You like him more?!
Arthur: (already walking away) I'll expect you back by tomorrow morning. (Goes back inside)
Time skip. The Summer Fortress’ Gardens. Sunset.
After the failed dinner, Arthur decides to opt for something simpler. A relaxed stroll in the gardens seems safe. An open space, fresh air. Nothing that can trigger bad memories of Merlin's ordeal like he stupidly did moments before.
He's aware he's been hard on himself. There was no way he could have known something as mundane as clothes would send Merlin spiraling. But…
"I hate you! You've brought nothing but disgrace and suffering into my life!"
The enchanted Merlin's words still echo sometimes. Arthur doesn't want to be the cause of pain to his beloved. Not ever again.
But what was supposed to be a relaxing stroll has turned into an impromptu herbology lesson. Because apparently, the garden is full of unique plants, and Merlin has decided this is the perfect moment to collect a botanical library.
Merlin: (delighted, crouching by a cluster of purple flowers) Foxglove! (Starts carefully picking them)
Arthur: You're making it very hard not to call you a girl right now.
Merlin: (Matter-of-factly) For your information, if used correctly, this plant is good for the heart.
Arthur: And if used incorrectly?
Merlin: It kills you.
Arthur: …
Merlin: (spotting something else, gasps) You have to be kidding me. Dwale? (Scrambles toward another patch) Who on earth made this garden?
Arthur: (thinking) He has no right looking this cute while collecting plants. (Says) What's this one's properties?
Merlin: (examining the plant) Mostly sedative. You know, pain relief, muscle relaxation—
Arthur: (reaches out, curious, about to pluck a dark berry)
Merlin: (slaps his hand)
Arthur: Ow!
Merlin: And they can be poisonous too.
Arthur: (rubs his hand, then laughs) Are you sure you don't just want to poison me?
Merlin: (his face falls)
Arthur: (realizing, horrified) Fuck. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I—
Merlin: No, it's okay. (Sets down the herbs, turning to face Arthur fully) Actually… I've been thinking about all those times I tried to kill you. And I've made my peace with it.
Arthur: (surprised) Really?
Merlin: Yes. Because I realized something. Even enchanted, I was never able to go through with it. Not really. I deliberately made a poison that kills slowly. That gave Gaius time to counteract it. Every time I tried to shoot you with an arrow, I failed. When you were climbing for your life on that mountain, I pulled Mordred away from the edge instead of pushing him, which would've been more effective. It’s like I was subconsciously sabotaging myself. And the one time I was close—when I almost cut your throat—(His voice catches, but he pushes on) I stopped. I came back, even if just for an instant. And that gave you time to knock me out.
Arthur: Merlin…
Merlin: (his eyes glistening) So no. I don't want to poison you. I never did. Not even when I thought I did.
Arthur crosses the distance between them in one step and pulls Merlin into a fierce embrace. Merlin melts into it, his face buried in Arthur's shoulder, his body finally relaxing after holding that weight for so long.
Arthur: Have I told you how much I love you?
Merlin: Multiple times.
Arthur: (pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, a soft, wondering smile) And yet you manage to beat me at love declarations without saying the words.
Merlin: (laughs softly) It's a gift.
Arthur: No, I can't let you win. So… (Pulls away and takes out a small book from his pocket) I brought this.
Merlin: (reads the title) A book of poetry?
Arthur: Yes. I'll recite you some.
Merlin: You said poetry was for love-struck girls.
Arthur: It's also for love-struck boys. Very manly boys.
Merlin: (lifts an eyebrow, skeptical)
Arthur: (a little desperate) I'm trying to be romantic here, Merlin. Humor me.
Merlin rolls his eyes, but he sinks onto the grass, settling in with anticipation. Arthur sits beside him, opens the book, and clears his throat with exaggerated importance.
Arthur: (reading) "My lady fair, with golden hair, whose gentle smile outshines the dawn—" (Stops abruptly) Eh… This one's about a girl.
Merlin: Sharp as always, my lord.
Arthur: Shut up. (Flips the page) "Her eyes are wells of summer light, her hair a river in the night—" (Scowls) Still a she. (Flips another page) "No jewel nor rose could ever compare to she whose beauty—" Goddamnit. (Flips again, faster now)
Merlin: (chuckles) Arthur. Poems are normally for knights to give to ladies. I doubt you're going to find one dedicated to a man.
Arthur: (flipping frantically) Wait— (Stops, a smile spreading) I've got one. (Reads, slower now, with more care) "I love thee not for what you seem, nor for the shape that others see. But for the quiet, constant flame that burns unseen, yet steadies me."
Merlin: (in awe) That was… actually beautiful.
Arthur: (sighs, closing the book) And yet it doesn't begin to explain how I feel. (Sets the book aside)
Merlin: (holds his hand) Use your words, then. I don't need elegant poetry or whatever you nobles do to court ladies. (Squeezes Arthur's hand) I just want you.
Arthur: (looks at him for a long moment, gathering himself) That's it. (Swallows) You never cared about my crown. About me being prince or king. (His thumb traces circles on Merlin's knuckles) You are one of the few people who actually sees me. Not as a title. Not as a symbol. Not as something to be used or feared or impressed. Just… as a man. Just… Arthur.
Merlin: (softly) Because that's who you are.
Arthur: And I would rather be that man—just that man—with you… than be a king without you. (A small, wondering laugh) I'd be happy as a farmer, Merlin. By your side. Just… with you.
Merlin: (chuckles softly) Yeah, right. You'd last a week before you started organizing the village militia.
Arthur: (grins) Maybe. But I'd still have you. (His voice softens) Because I am more myself when you are near. (A pause) And at the same time, I want to be that person you see when you look at me. The one you believe in. The one you put all your hope in. I want to be deserving of your love, your faith, because whoever is blessed with such things from you… (lifts their joined hands, pressing them to his chest, over his heart) Has already gained the world. You are my world.
Merlin: (stares at him, eyes shining) Arthur…
Arthur: (a shaky smile) I told you I'd beat you.
Merlin: (laughs) You idiot.
He pulls Arthur into a kiss, warm and fierce. When they finally break apart, foreheads resting together, they are both smiling, breathless.
Merlin: (dazed) Wow…
Arthur: (just as dazed) I feel like I'm… floating.
Merlin: Yeah… wait. (Looks down, eyes widening) We are!
They are, in fact, a few inches above the ground, just before gravity remembers them and they drop back down with a soft thud and a simultaneous yelp.
Arthur: (scrambling upright, looking around wildly) What the hell was that?! Is this garden cursed?
Merlin: (still on the ground, face red) Eh… No. (Sits up slowly, avoiding Arthur's eyes) I… I did it.
Arthur: (confused, turning to face him fully) Why? Did you mean to?
Merlin: (sheepish, tugging at a blade of grass) Well… it wasn't conscious. It's just…
Arthur: (sits back down beside him) What?
Merlin: My magic tends to act on its own when my feelings are… strong. (Risks a glance up, then quickly looks away again) It hasn't happened since I was a child. I learned to control it. But…
Arthur: But?
Merlin: I guess I was… too happy?
Arthur: …
Merlin: (sighs) Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you—
Arthur: (laughs)
Merlin: What are you—? Don't laugh!
Arthur: (keeps laughing)
Merlin: It's not funny!
Arthur: (waving a hand, trying to catch his breath) No, no. You misunderstand me. I'm not laughing at you.
Merlin: It seems like you are.
Arthur: (grins) No, I just didn't know my kisses were so good they literally made you float.
Merlin: Oh, don't go growing a big head!
Arthur: (smug) You could say our kisses are magical.
Merlin: (grabs a handful of grass and throws it at his face)
Arthur: (sputters, then grins) Oh, it's on. (Scoops up his own handful and throws it back)
What follows is a brief, ridiculous grass fight—laughter, scrambling, grass in hair and down shirts—until they both collapse back onto the ground, breathless and grinning.
They lay there in comfortable silence, side by side, shoulders touching. At some point, Merlin reaches out and levitates the purple foxglove flowers he'd picked earlier toward him. He begins to weave them together, fingers working with surprising delicacy.
Arthur: (watching him, fond) What girly thing are you doing now?
Merlin: (not looking up, a small smile playing on his lips) You're not the only one who wants to do romantic gestures.
Arthur: (surprised, warmth spreading through his chest) That's… for me?
Merlin: (nods, continuing his craft)
Arthur: Using the flowers from my garden?
Merlin: (glancing up) You mean like you reciting poems from other people?
Arthur: (snorts) Fair enough. (Watches more closely) That's not how you make a bouquet, though.
Merlin: (rolls his eyes) It's not a bouquet.
Arthur: (squints) A… hoop?
Merlin: (finishes the last twist) No. (Sits up) There. Get up.
Arthur: (sits up, curious)
Merlin: (reaches out and places the woven circlet on Arthur's head) It's a crown!
Arthur: (his hand comes up to touch it, his face flushing deeply, then stammers) You are… such a girl.
Merlin: If you don't like it, give it back.(Reaches out for it)
Arthur: (pulls back, one hand protecting the crown) No. It's mine now.
And between more laughter and teasing, the last light of sunset fades into twilight, and the first stars begin to appear.
Time skip. The Summer Fortress’ Royal Chambers. Night.
Arthur and Merlin enter. The room is beautifully arranged with soft lighting, fresh flowers, and a large bed with luxurious linens.
Merlin: (taking it in) Wow.
Arthur: (nervous) Do you like it?
Merlin: It's lovely.
Arthur: (smiles, relieved)
Merlin: (glancing around) Is this my room or your room?
Arthur: (blushes, rubbing the back of his neck) Uh… I didn't prepare another room. I was hoping we could…
Merlin: …Oh. (Eyes widen) OH!
Arthur: But I can sleep on the sofa if you—
Merlin: No, no! Don't be absurd. We've done this before.
Arthur: (blushes more deeply) It is true.
Merlin: More than once, in fact.
Arthur: (frowns, confused) No, just once.
Merlin: Arthur, we've done it several times.
Arthur: I think I would remember that.
Merlin: (offended) You've forgotten already of all the times we snuck into each other's beds at night?
Arthur: …
Arthur: Oh. You're talking about sleeping.
Merlin: (blinking) Yes. What did you think I was talking about?
Arthur: (too quickly, face now crimson) Exactly that. Of course. Sleeping. What else would I be talking about? (Coughs and grabs a pillow, avoiding Merlin’s eyes) I'll take this side.
Merlin just nods. He's not innocent. He knows exactly what Arthur meant. And honestly, he should have guessed—given the secluded romantic location—that Arthur brought him here with expectations. He'd mock Arthur for his clumsy attempt at covering, if it weren't for the fact that he himself is a wreck of nervousness and anticipation.
The first time they were intimate—if you could call it that—Merlin wasn't in his right mind. The circumstances were desperate, born of fear and the need to feel real. It was meaningful, yes, but it wasn't… this. A quiet night in a soft bed, both of them fully present and choosing each other.
He wants this time to be perfect. Special. He wants to be good for Arthur. The problem is he doesn't exactly have… experience.
Okay, he didn't stay a virgin by choice, just to be clear. It's just that between serving Arthur, deflecting magical threats, handling Gaius's chores, and saving the kingdom on a weekly basis, there was never time for that. It definitely wasn't for lack of desire. He might have been hopelessly in love with Arthur for years, but that didn't mean he didn't have eyes to appreciate other people.
There was that one time he started something with one of Gwen's maidservants. It never progressed past flirting, and by the time it was close to developing into something more, she ran away, because apparently she turned out to be a spy. Gwaine once suggested he just go to a brothel, but Merlin's not a casual sex person. He needs to bond with someone first, not love necessarily, but to have a genuine sentimental connection.
So yeah. This would be his first actual time. And it's exciting as much as it is terrifying.
Already in his undergarments, the young warlock sits on the edge of the bed, suddenly acutely aware of every movement he makes. Arthur is on the other side, pretending to fluff a pillow with great concentration.
Merlin: (thinking, as he watches Arthur get comfortable) I should probably make a move… Yes! I'm not a shy person. I can take initiative. (Says) Arthur.
Arthur: (turns) Yes?
Merlin: … Goodnight. (Covers himself with the blanket, thinking) Coward.
Arthur: (sighs and blows out the last candle)
They lie in the dark, each close to the edge of their respective sides, backs turned. An uncomfortable silence settles, both dealing with a warmth that has nothing to do with the weather.
Merlin: Why are you lying so far away from me?
Arthur: You're the one who moved away.
Merlin: No, I just like this spot.
Arthur: Well, I like this spot too.
Merlin: Fine!
Arthur: Fine!
Silence.
Arthur: (yanks the blanket)
Merlin: (yelps) You're taking all the cover!
Arthur: The cover is huge!
Merlin: And somehow you manage to take all of it!
Arthur: Maybe if you weren't literally on the edge—
Merlin: You're the one on the edge! (Shuffles to the center of the bed) See? I'm not remotely close to the edge.
Arthur: (shuffles too) Me neither.
Merlin: You just moved!
Arthur: You did too!
Merlin: No, you're the one putting distance between us!
Arthur: I was respecting your distance!
Merlin: I don't want any distance!
Silence.
Merlin's heart hammers. He can feel the warmth of Arthur's body now, their chests almost touching, the heat of him bleeding through the thin fabric of their shirts. Then, slowly, a hand snakes under his shirt and places itself flat against his waist. Arthur's lips are a breath away from Merlin's. So close that Merlin can feel the shape of each word before he speaks.
Arthur: (low, barely a whisper) What do you want, Merlin?
Merlin: (voice small, but steady) I want… I want you to stop pretending you don't know what I want.
For a heartbeat, nothing moves. Then they both close the distance between them and kiss. It is not careful. It is the collision of two people who have been holding themselves back for too long, and now they can’t even remember why they were holding themselves back in the first place.
Merlin's hands find Arthur's shoulders, then his hair, then the warm skin of his back. Arthur's hand on his waist slides around to the small of his back, pulling him closer and closer, until there is no space left between them. When they finally break apart, gasping, foreheads pressed together, they are trembling.
Arthur: (voice rough, thumb tracing circles on Merlin's hip) Are you sure?
Merlin: (nods quickly) I’ve waited so long for this.
It is all the confirmation Arthur needs. He kisses Merlin again, slower, deeper. The only sounds are soft breaths and the rustle of sheets. Then Arthur grows bolder. He rolls Merlin onto his back and settles over him, his hands more exploring, his kisses more impatient. Merlin is not left behind. He arches up into him without thinking and musters the courage to slip his hand between Arthur's skin and his breeches, making Arthur let out a low groan that turns Merlin on more, if possible.
They practically yank each other's shirts away. The fabric lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten. He can barely make out Arthur’s shape in the dark. Merlin wishes he could see him.
Suddenly little soft golden floating lights appear in the room, drifting up from nowhere like tiny suspended stars.
Arthur: (grins) Merlin?
Merlin: (flushes furiously) Do not say a word.
Arthur: I wasn't going to. (Pulls Merlin down into another kiss) I was just going to enjoy the view.
Arthur's hand moves down Merlin's side, grasps his breeches, and pulls them down with one hand. Merlin swallows, but soon does the same, with the same ritual slowness. They stare for a moment, just admiring. There is no fabric keeping them apart now.
Arthur: You are beautiful.
Merlin: You are… not so bad.
Arthur: (chuckles, but then his expression turns serious) I… I need something. (Reaches over to the bedside table and picks up a little glass bottle. He holds it up, suddenly shy) This is for—
Merlin: (quickly) I know what it is for.
Arthur: (eyes wide, surprised with a flicker of jealousy) You've done this before?!
Merlin: No! But I'm not innocent. As Gaius's apprentice, sometimes we had to tend to patients in the brothels in the lower town. And not all prostitutes are women, you know. And they… talk. (Thinking) And I did my own research as well, but I'm not going to tell you that.
Arthur: (relief softening his features, then a slow smile spreads across his face) So… you haven't…
Merlin: (groans, covering his face) Oh, for Gods' sake. No, I haven't.
Arthur: (chuckles softly and pulls Merlin’s hands away from his face) It's okay. Neither have I. With men I mean.
Merlin: Yeah, I figured that part out.
Arthur: So… (kisses him) We are learning together.
Arthur pours a small amount of oil into his palm, warming it between his hands. The golden lights cast soft shadows on the walls, illuminating the flush on their skin. When Arthur touches him there, a single finger pressing carefully inward, Merlin's body tenses, his breath catching in his throat. His hands fly to Arthur's shoulders, gripping tight.
Arthur: (worried, though his eyes are almost dark with desire) Are you alright?
Merlin: (nods frantically, voice breathless) I'm fine. Just… (Meets Arthur's gaze, his own eyes pleading) Kiss me.
Arthur obeys. He leans down and captures Merlin's mouth with his own. Merlin melts into the kiss, his body gradually relaxing. As Arthur deepens the kiss, his finger moves again. Then a second one joins, perhaps too abruptly. Merlin gasps against his mouth, a sound caught between surprise, pain, and something else entirely.
Arthur: (pulls back, guilt flashing across his face) I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—
Arthur tries to stretch him slowly and gently. But between the messy clash of lips and the unsteadiness of his own nerves, his fingers aren't precisely steady. Then, as he crooks them just so, Merlin screams.
Arthur: (fear cutting through the haze) Did I hurt you? (Starts to pull back)
Merlin: (grabs his wrist, holding him in place) No. Don't you dare. (His eyes are wild, desperate, wanting) Do it again.
Arthur stares at him for a heartbeat—at the flush on his chest, the glisten of sweat on his collarbone, the need in his eyes—and something in him unravels. Arthur curls his fingers again, watching Merlin's face. This time, Merlin doesn't scream. He moans and his hips buck forward of their own accord. Arthur’s length hardens at the sight.
Arthur: (voice thick) Like that?
Merlin: (barely able to speak) Yes. Gods, yes.
The golden lights burn brighter. Arthur can only take it as a good sign, and somehow, knowing he is provoking this—this unleashed magic reaction—only increases his arousal. He could come just from this, Merlin writhing and moaning for him with nothing but the movement of his fingers.
That cannot happen, though. It would be rather embarrassing. He withdraws his fingers slowly and reaches for the oil again. However, Merlin stops him, grabbing the bottle, looking at him intently.
Merlin: Can I?
Arthur: (stares for a moment, then nods, swallowing hard)
Merlin pours oil into his palm, just as Arthur did. Then he reaches down and wraps his fingers around Arthur's length, stroking slowly, experimentally. Arthur's breath hitches, his forehead pressing against Merlin's.
Arthur: (voice ragged) Merlin…
Merlin: (watches his face intently) Like this?
Arthur: (nods frantically, unable to form words)
Merlin leans in and kisses him while his hand works. Arthur groans into his mouth, his hips bucking forward of their own accord. The pressure builds, the heat coiling low in his belly.
Arthur: (pulling back, gasping) If you keep going, I'm not going to last.
Merlin: (his eyes glint with mischief and he strokes him faster)
Arthur: Merlin! (grabs Merlin's wrists and pushes him down onto the mattress, pinning him) You little shit.
Merlin: (chuckles)
Arthur: (looks him up and down with want) I want to be inside you. So bad.
Merlin: (turned on, open his legs wide) What are you waiting for?
Arthur positions himself between Merlin's legs. He pauses, looking down at the man beneath him—his beloved, his Merlin. Then he presses forward, slowly.
Merlin gasps, mouth wide open. The golden lights flicker wildly. Arthur moans loudly—the pressure around him is delicious—but even in his ecstasy, he worries. Merlin's face is contorted, and the lights won't stop flickering.
Arthur: (strained, barely holding himself still) Merlin—
Merlin: If you stop or ask if I'm alright one more time, Arthur, I'm going to kill you. I swear.
So Arthur continues, pressing deeper, inch by agonizing inch, watching Merlin's face the whole time. When he is fully seated inside him, when they are finally, finally joined, they both let out a sound—half gasp, half cry. Merlin's nails scratch down Arthur's back as Arthur drops his weight, face buried in the crook of Merlin's neck.
When Arthur lifts his head again, Merlin's eyes are filled with tears. The lights are not just flickering now, but throwing random, disorganized sparks.
Arthur: (labored breathing, fighting every instinct to move) I really think… I should ask now.
Merlin: (some tears fall, voice watery) I might… need a moment.
Arthur: (kisses his cheeks gently, cleaning the tears with his lips) Does it hurt that much?
Merlin: (shakes his head) No. I mean… a little. But it's not just that. It's everything. So many feelings at once, and I… (His voice breaks) I'm so happy. (A tear slips down his cheek) I love you.
Arthur: (kisses the tear away, then Merlin's lips, soft and reverent) I love you too. (Takes a deep breath, forcing his hips to stay still, though every nerve in his body is screaming) Tell me when you are ready.
They stay like that for a moment. Merlin's breathing slowly evens out and the lights settle into a soft, steady glow.
Merlin: (quietly) Okay.
Arthur: (needing confirmation) Okay?
Merlin: (nods, wrapping his legs around Arthur's waist) Move.
Arthur does. He lowers his head, bending down to kiss Merlin tenderly, and then he withdraws and thrusts inside again with a small, slow movement. Merlin's head falls back against the pillow, mouth open, eyes fluttering shut, and his thighs squeeze Arthur's hips tighter.
Arthur: (voice low) Look at me.
Merlin opens his eyes, and Arthur enters him again. Merlin cries, both in pain and pleasure. Soon the movement of Arthur's body against his turns more rhythmic. Merlin moans, the pain suppressed now by the wonderful, burning sensation of Arthur filling him, stretching him, hitting him right on that spot. Arthur grips Merlin's body and presses his lips to his skin as if he couldn't get enough, groaning at the feeling of Merlin's walls closing tighter around him. The lights pulse with each of Arthur's thrusts, brightening and dimming like a shared breath.
Arthur: (voice wrecked) You feel… (Can't finish the sentence)
Merlin: (hands gripping Arthur's shoulders, then his back, then anything he can reach) Arthur.
When Merlin says his name like that—moaning, almost breathless—the pace quickens. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin, of moans only muffled occasionally by kisses and whispered names. Merlin meets him thrust for thrust, his body finally adapting to the rhythm. The lights burn brighter.
Then Merlin cries out, his back arching off the bed, and the lights shatter into a thousand tiny stars that rain down on them.
Arthur: (thrusting deeper, faster, chasing his own release) Merlin—I'm—
Merlin: (clutching him, nails biting into his shoulders) Inside. Please.
The sounds coming from Arthur's throat grow louder until, finally, he buries himself one last time, moaning and trembling on top of Merlin. Merlin holds him through it until Arthur collapses on him, boneless and breathless.
The stars fade slowly, one by one, until only a soft golden glow remains.
Arthur: That was…
Merlin: (smiling) Yeah.
Arthur: (lifts his head, looking down at Merlin) Are you alright?
Merlin: (laughs weakly) I'm more than alright. (Kisses Arthur softly) I'm yours.
Arthur's throat tightens. He kisses Merlin tenderly and then carefully pulls out, settling beside him and pulling him close.
Arthur: (against his hair) And I'm yours.
They lie there tangled together, as the last of the golden lights flickers and fades.
Time skip. The next day. Morning.
Arthur opens his eyes to the beautiful sight of Merlin in his arms.
Morning light filters through the curtains, catching the edges of Merlin's dark hair and the soft curve of his cheek. He's still asleep, his breathing slow and even, his face relaxed in a way Arthur has rarely seen since the Tower. No tension. No worry. No nightmares. Just peace.
Arthur watches him for a long moment, not daring to move, afraid he might wake him. Or worse, that this might be a dream. But Merlin's weight is solid against his chest, his skin warm beneath Arthur's palm, and Arthur can feel his heartbeat, slow and steady.
Last night happened. Merlin is really here with him.
He thinks of all the mornings he woke up alone in his chambers, greeted only by the formal, quiet servant of the day. Then, during the desperation of the search, by glimpses of a Merlin who despised him. He never lost hope, never gave up the idea of getting his Merlin back. But he never let himself imagine this. Never let himself hope for this. Not only having Merlin by his side again, but having him in his bed after making love, so utterly and completely his.
And yet here he is. Here they are. And Arthur has never felt so blessed in his life.
Arthur lifts his free hand, fingers brushing a strand of hair from Merlin's forehead. Merlin stirs slightly, a soft murmur escaping his lips, but doesn't wake. Arthur smiles.
Arthur: (whispers) Hi.
Merlin shifts again, and this time his eyes flutter open, first hazy, then focusing, then widening as he takes in Arthur's face.
Merlin: (voice thick with sleep, a slow smile spreading) Hi.
Arthur: Rise and shine, lazy daisy.
Merlin: (chuckles softly) My words.
Arthur: And they fit you perfectly. (Kisses Merlin's forehead)
Merlin: (makes a move to get up and winces, his hand going to his lower back)
Arthur: (grin widening) Sore?
Merlin: (groans) Shut up. It's your fault. (Shifts, trying to find a comfortable position) Ugh. Is it always like this?
Arthur: (recalling his limited experience with Gwen) The first time, yeah. And the second… and maybe also the third.
Merlin: (throwing an arm over his eyes) Forget it. I'm not letting you touch me again, you brute.
Arthur: (leans closer, voice low and amused) I didn't hear you complaining last night. In fact, if I remember correctly, you were the one asking me not to stop—
Merlin: (face burning) Shut up!
Arthur: (chuckles and presses another kiss to his temple) Don't move. I'll take care of you.
He kisses Merlin again before swinging his legs out of bed. Merlin sinks back into the pillows, watching him through half-closed eyes as Arthur crosses to the trunk where Arthur left their things.
Arthur rummages for a cloth. His fingers brush fabric, then something cold and metallic. He frowns, pulling it out.
The padded chains. The ones he made for Merlin. The ones that bound his wrists during the journey to the Cauldron.
Arthur: (staring at them) What…? (Holds them up)
These shouldn't be here. They should be at the bottom of that sacred lake, or lost somewhere in the mountain pass.
Arthur: (calling over his shoulder, confused) Merlin?
Merlin: (from the bed, drowsy) Hm?
Arthur: Do you know how this got here?
A beat of silence. Arthur turns. Merlin's face has gone crimson from his cheeks to his ears to his neck.
Merlin: Um…
Arthur: (walking back to the bed, chains dangling from his hand) I could have sworn we left these behind at the Cauldron.
Merlin: (looks anywhere but at Arthur) Yeah, but I… (Mumbles) picked them up and put them in my pack.
Arthur: (stops beside the bed) …
Merlin: I can explain.
Arthur: (sits on the edge of the bed, leaving the chains next to him) I'm listening.
Merlin: They… give me comfort.
Arthur: (blinks) The chains I used to restrain you when you were enchanted give you comfort?
Merlin: I know, I know. It sounds crazy but… (finally looks at Arthur) You had them made for me.
Arthur: (stares at him) You're joking.
Merlin: I'm really not. (Reaches out, fingers brushing the padded lining) I mean, they're padded and everything. You took the time to measure them and line them with leather so they wouldn't chafe.
Arthur: Yes, to literally chain you and lock you up! That's not exactly romantic.
Merlin: (a small, vulnerable smile) I know, but… even when you were locking me up, you were still thinking about my wellbeing. So… I don't know. It felt special. In a way.
Arthur: …
Merlin: (looks down) Yeah, yeah, it's weird.
Arthur: (reaches out, tilting Merlin's chin up gently) It's not weird. Just… curious. (His thumb brushes Merlin's cheek) I thought these things would bother you once you were back to yourself—remind you of things you'd rather forget. I'm glad it isn't the case. (Leans closer, voice softening, his hands dropping to rest on Merlin's wrists) At the time, I really didn't want to hurt you. You were already suffering enough. I tried to keep you safe and as comfortable as possible—
Merlin: You did. You really did.
Arthur: (smiles, grateful and relieved) Good to know that. (Glances at the chains, then back at Merlin) That said, if this is special to you, there's no problem with you keeping it. (His expression turns mischievous and leans in) In fact… we could even use it for other things.
Merlin: (looking at him, genuinely lost) Oh, well. I suppose it would be useful for immobilizing a murderer. Or for leading criminals to the dungeons without risk of escape. (Frowns) But you can use any other chains for that. (Grabs the padded chains possessively) These are mine.
Arthur: (bursts out laughing)
Merlin: (offended) What? I simply don't see the point of using my handcuffs to restrain criminals!
Arthur: (wipes away a tear) Sure, we could do that. (Grins) Although I was thinking more about chaining my adorable, innocent servant to the bed.
Merlin: (eyes go wide. Mouth opens. No sound comes out)
Arthur: (chuckles) I'm joking! (A pause) … But if you want to, I'm not joking.
Merlin: (grabs a pillow and throws it at him)
Arthur: (catches the pillow, laughing)
The king tosses the chains back into the trunk and returns with a cloth and a cup of water, and takes care of his beloved as promised.
Later, they have breakfast in bed—talking, laughing, stealing bites from each other's plates—as the morning stretches warm and golden around them. Nothing could take them from their little bubble of happiness.
Until the door slams open.
Gwaine: (bursts in, breathless) Sire! There you— (Stops dead, taking in the scene before him: Arthur in nothing but his breeches and Merlin wrapped in the king's shirt) … are.
Arthur: (snaps, face flushing with fury) Don't you know how to knock?!
Merlin: (adjusts Arthur's shirt on him, face burning)
Gwaine: (a grin spreading despite his urgency) Oh, you really don't waste time.
Arthur: (warns) Gwaine.
Gwaine: Right. I brought—
Arthur: Merlin's clothes.
Gwaine: Uh. No, but—
Arthur: (incredulous, gesturing wildly) You have to be kidding me. That's the very reason I sent you!
Gwaine: Yes, but then I was informed—
Arthur: (rises from the bed) I don't care what matters of state you learned. I asked for two weeks off for a reason. I gave you one task—
Gwaine: (rises his voice) Mordred is missing!
Arthur: (freezes) … What?
Gwaine: He disappeared while on patrol. Three days ago. No one knew until yesterday because his unit was ambushed. Three knights wounded, one dead. (Swallows) And witnesses claim to have seen him be taken by—
Merlin: (face drained of all color, voice hollow, eyes too knowing) Morgana.
And just like that, their little bubble bursts.
...
Sorry for the delay! As you can probably tell, the Merthur date ended up being much longer than I expected. So much so that I had to push the rest of what I’d planned into a next part.
The final part (this time for real!) will focus on Morgana’s fate.
"Merlin Enchanted AU FINAL" is the WIP for the last part of my Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU on Tumblr or, as it’s called on AO3, ̶I̶ ̶L̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ I Hate You!
It’s taking me forever because there’s a lot to cover: Gwen and Merlin rebuilding their friendship, Merlin and Arthur’s first date, and Morgana’s fate. Right now I’m especially stuck on the date scene. I keep writing and rewriting it because it has to be cute and romantic, but also coherent and not too perfect. These two are chaotic and dealing with a lot of trauma, so… yeah, I’m trying to strike the right balance.
If anyone wants to send asks about any of my WIPs here: WIP Tag Game , please feel free. I’d love to talk about them!
Hi again! As promised, here’s the poll to decide which scene of my Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU will be turned into fanart ✨
Thank you so much for all your suggestions 😊.
The requested scenes are:
1. Merlin watches Arthur and Gwen:
2. Morgana hugs Enchanted Merlin:
3. Arthur and Enchanted Merlin struggle:
4. Merlin’s magic stops Enchanted Merlin:
5. Enchanted Merlin and Gwen:
6. Arthur chains Enchanted Merlin:
7. Arthur convinces Enchanted Merlin:
8. Merlin is back:
Which moment would you like to see illustrated?
Merlin watches Arthur and Gwen
Morgana hugs Enchanted Merlin
Arthur and Enchanted Merlin struggle
Merlin’s magic stops Enchanted Merlin
Enchanted Merlin and Gwen
Arthur chains Enchanted Merlin
Arthur convinces Enchanted Merlin
Merlin is back
Voting ended onMar 25
Vote for your favorite, and feel free to share in the comments about why it deserves to win.
I’m really excited to see which one comes out on top!
Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it! :)
My WIPs consist of Merthur fics (BBC Merlin) and my original play scripts (I'm a theater kid!). The last ones are in spanish cause that's my first language, but I can translate them for you if you are interested.
Merthur Fics WIPs:
Merlin Enchanted AU FINAL
Tomorrow
Protecting The Dragonlord's Son
Chapter 4: Valiant
My original scripts WIP:
Amistades en pandemia (Friendships During COVID)
Cuando pienses en volver (When You Think About Coming Back)
Hi, everybody! I’m still working on the final part of my Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU. I'm sorry it’s taking so long, but I really want to get it right.
On a related note, my beta (and best friend) found an artist within my budget, so I’m thinking of commissioning a piece of fanart for the story. The problem is… I’m incredibly indecisive about which scene to choose. There are just too many good options: Enchanted Merlin almost cutting Arthur’s throat, Enchanted Merlin revealing Arthur’s infidelity to Gwen, Arthur chaining Enchanted Merlin in the East Tower, Arthur convincing Merlin to enter the cauldron, and so on.
So, since I can’t decide, I thought I’d leave it up to you. What scene would you most like to see illustrated? It can be one of the ones I mentioned or any other moment you’d love to see brought to life. I’ll take the most suggested ones and put them into a poll!
"Morgana turned evil because of Merlin", "If Merlin hadn't poisoned her..." , "If Merlin hadn't betrayed her—BULLSHIT
Morgana had already conspired to kill Uther way before Merlin did what he did. Twice.
I do believe if Merlin had told her about his magic, she would have felt less alone. Maybe it would have changed things. Or maybe not, because Morgana had this extreme mindset since always.
And I don’t know about you but "My friend betrayed me" doesn’t seem enough excuse to turn against everyone the way she did. People like Uther deserved her hatred? Yes. But what about Gwen? She never did anything to her and decided she was the enemy due to a vision. That was enough to throw their friendship away and torment her. At least Merlin doubted the prophecies about Morgana becoming evil. Meanwhile, Morgana decided to hate Gwen for something she hadn’t even done yet without a second thought.
I'm not saying Morgana’s suffering is not valid. Or that Merlin didn't make mistakes (hell, he did plenty). But people portraying her merely as a victim, and blaming Merlin entirely is just wrong.
Morgana’s actions and decisions were her own, just as Merlin's. She is not less responsable for them because she suffered.
Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 , Part 11 , Part 12 , Part 13 , Part 14, Part 15 , Part 16 , Part 17 , Part 18 (You're here) , Part 19
Merlin wakes slowly, the kind of waking that drifts up from deep sleep. For a long, blissful moment, there is nothing but the comfort of soft linen beneath him and the distant echo of a wonderful dream. He smiles, still half-lost in it.
Then his mind clicks into place.
He's in Arthur's bed. Memory returns in a rush. His own voice, begging. Arthur's hands. The things he said. The things he did.
It wasn’t a dream.
Heat floods his face. He presses his eyes shut. What must Arthur think of him now? Throwing himself at him like that, pleading, begging. Offering himself up like some… some tavern whore! He wants to crawl under the bed and never emerge.
He hears a soft rustle of parchment. Arthur is at his desk, quill in hand, brows furrowed over some document. He looks tired, but there's a softness to his features that Merlin has never seen before. Like he is at peace, almost. Then Arthur glances up, and the weariness on his face lifts.
Arthur: (setting down the quill, rising immediately) You're awake. (Crosses the room in three strides, sitting on the edge of the bed) How are you feeling?
Merlin: (can't meet his eyes) Uh?
Arthur: Does the… world make sense again?
Merlin: No, it doesn’t.
Arthur: (frowns, worried) Do you still feel stunned? Disoriented?
Merlin: I wish I did.
Arthur: (not quite understanding, but pressing on) Well, I told Gaius what happened, so—
Merlin: (bolts upright, eyes wide) WHAT?!
Arthur: (startled) Yes, he needed to know.
Merlin: Why would he ever need to know about any of this?!
Arthur: To prevent another attack! If it happens again, we'll know what to do!
Merlin: …
Merlin: Oh. You were talking about… what happened in the market.
Arthur: Yes. What else did you think I was— (realises) Oh.
Merlin: (yanks the covers over his head)
Arthur: (a soft, amused chuckle) Merlin, of course I wasn't going to tell him that.
Merlin: (muffled) Don't. Shut up. Not a word. I want to die.
Arthur: (his smile fades and pulls the covers down, his heart squeezing) Do you regret it?
Merlin: Yes—I mean, no. (Hides his face in a pillow) I don't know.
Arthur: (removes the pillow) Merlin, it’s alright. Stop hiding.
Merlin: I can't. I feel so embarrassed. (Presses his hands to his burning cheeks) I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm not usually like that, I swear!
Arthur: You have nothing to apologize for.
Merlin: Yes, I do. I took advantage of you. And I was so desperate and pathetic and—
Arthur: No, Merlin. (Catches Merlin's hands, lowering them from his face) You were scared. You were clinging to the only thing that felt real. On the contrary, I took advantage of you.
Merlin: (sits up) No, I did!
Arthur: No, I did.
Merlin: (louder) I DID! I didn't even take care of you!
Arthur: (blinks) What?
Merlin: You were so good, and I just… (His voice drops to a mortified mumble) fell asleep.
Arthur: (stares at him for a beat, then laughs)
Merlin: It's not funny!
Arthur: It's a little funny.
Merlin: It is not!
Arthur: (his laughter subsides into a tender smile. Then reaches out, cupping Merlin's face in both hands) Do you think I did any of that because I expected something in return?
Merlin: (hesitates) Well…
Arthur: I wanted to comfort you. For you to feel safe and real again. I wanted you to know, beyond any doubt, that you are loved. That I love you.
Merlin: (stares at him, moved)
Arthur: But I'd be lying if I said I only had selfless reasons. I also wanted you. I wanted to pleasure you. To touch you. To watch you. If you think I got nothing from this, you are seriously mistaken. (Leaning in, his lips brushing Merlin's ear) Having you writhing and moaning for me… (Lets out a low, appreciative hum) It was a very rewarding visual spectacle.
Merlin: (shoves him hard, but a reluctant smile tugs at his lips) Ass.
Arthur: (smiles back, warmly, his eyes soft)
Merlin: I can’t believe this is real.
Arthur: (his smile falters, concern in his eyes)
Merlin: No, no—not like that! I'm pretty sane right now. I think. (Sighs) I mean… I still can't believe that this happened. That you… That you love me.
Arthur: (relief floods his features, then a mischievous grin) Well, if you want, I can do it again. To convince you.
Merlin: (hits him)
Arthur: Really, whenever you need it. I have no problem with repeated demonstrations. In fact, I insist on thorough confirmation of my feelings.
Merlin: (blushes furiously) Shut up! (Discreetly pulls a pillow into his lap)
A knock on the door. The young warlock startles, scrambling off the bed in an instant, putting distance between himself and the king. A servant enters, who professionally ignores Merlin's presence and his disheveled state.
Servant: Your bath, Sire.
Arthur: (nods) Bring it in.
Merlin stands awkwardly to the side as servants file in, preparing the tub, and guilt settles in his stomach. That's supposed to be his job! Instead, he's been sleeping in the king's bed. And before that, he spent days resting in his own room because of the chill. Days when Arthur had to manage without him, when other servants had to pick up his slack, because the king's manservant was too weak to serve. As if abandoning Arthur these past three months hasn’t been enough. Rationally, Merlin knows he needed the rest. And the attack in the market was out of his control. But he can't shake the feeling that he's failing in his duty. That he's been neglecting Arthur.
The servants finish and leave. Merlin immediately moves to the tub, dipping his hand in.
Merlin: It's not hot enough.
Arthur: No one can get the temperature right like you.
Merlin: (murmurs, eyes flashing gold) Onhǽte þá wæter.
The water shimmers and steam rises more thickly.
Arthur: (chuckles softly) And now I know why.
Merlin: (blushes deeper, ducking his head, his ears burning)
Arthur: (noticing, amused) Wait. Are you getting flustered over heating water?
Merlin: (mumbles) I'm still not used to it. Using magic. With you watching.
The king's expression softens, understanding dawning. Merlin has hidden such a fundamental part of himself for so long. After the denial, after the betrayal, Arthur spent weeks hating himself for never making Merlin feel safe enough to tell the truth. Merlin won't say it, but Arthur knows that, beneath the years of secrets, was the fear that Arthur would reject him.
He has accepted magic now. He has come to realize it isn't the evil, corrupting force his father preached. But years of blind prejudice cannot be undone in months. Months when Merlin wasn't even present. And Arthur doesn’t want Merlin to even consider he could reject any part of him again.
Arthur: Would you show me more?
Merlin: (his head snaps back up, eyes going wide)
Arthur: I've been reading. Your book of magic. You had interesting notes in there. Gaius showed me a couple of simple spells. But I'd like to learn more. From you.
Merlin: (stares at him for a long moment, then his face breaks into a smile, eyes glistening) I'd love that.
A comfortable silence settles between them. Then Merlin shifts, glancing toward the door.
Merlin: I'll fetch your dinner.
Arthur: (frowns slightly) Oh, you don't have to—
Merlin: I have to. It's literally my job. I'm your servant.
Arthur: And you literally just had an attack. You need rest.
Merlin: I've done nothing but rest since I got here. I'm fetching your dinner while you bathe.
Arthur: I told you, you're more than a servant to me.
Merlin: (a soft, genuine smile) Yeah. I'm pretty aware of that. Believe me. But I'm still your servant. I'm fetching your dinner.
Arthur: But—
Merlin: (aggressively) Let me fetch your dinner!
Arthur: (stunned into silence for a moment, then smiles, raising his hands in surrender) … Alright. Go fetch my dinner.
Merlin: (nods, satisfied, and turns toward the door)
Arthur: Merlin.
Merlin: (turns back)
Arthur: (mischievously) Want to bathe with me?
Merlin: (red spreads from his cheeks to his ears to his neck)
Arthur: (laughs, delighted)
Merlin: Arthur!
Arthur: (grinning) I'm joking. (A pause) But if you want to, I'm not joking.
Merlin: (grappling for composure) You are still a royal ass. (Goes to the door)
Arthur: (catches his arm) Merlin.
Merlin: (turns, exasperated) What?!
The king suddenly pulls his servant close and kisses him. It's soft and warm and lingers just long enough to steal Merlin's breath. When Arthur pulls back, Merlin's exasperation has melted into something dazed and wondering.
Arthur: (against his lips) I love you.
Merlin: (softly, stammering) I—I love you too. (And flees)
Arthur watches him go, chuckling softly. Making Merlin blush is definitely his new favourite hobby.
Time skip.
Gwaine and Leon are the first to check on Merlin after he's recovered. They fill in the gaps—how frantic Arthur was, the way he had nearly torn the citadel apart searching, and how bad Merlin looked when they found him in the bakery. Then Percival encounters him, and Gwen, who weren't there but were told, and also ask if he is okay. They all offer their reassurances, and their comforting presence is a balm Merlin didn't know he needed.
And then, unexpectedly, Elyan checks on him too.
Merlin: (surprised) I thought you hated me.
Elyan: I don't hate you. (Sighs) Am I incredibly angry at you still? Yes. But I don't hate you.
Merlin: I am really sorry—
Elyan: (holds up a hand) Stop. Just… don't disappear again, alright? The kingdom can't handle it. (A pause) I can't handle it.
A small smile forms in Merlin's face. It's moments like this that make him wonder how he could ever have seen his friends as the cruel, hateful people the enchantment painted in his mind.
Just when he thinks he's done crying, his mother arrives. Merlin clutches to her like he hasn't done in years. He feels like a little boy again, safe in her arms.
Hunith: (her voice thick with tears) I knew something was wrong when you stopped writing to me. Then Gaius came to Ealdor with the king to tell me everything, and I was so scared for you. (Holds him tighter) Arthur assured me he knew how to cure you, that he was using every resource to find you, but I still—
Merlin: (muffled against her shoulder) I know. I'm sorry I worried you.
Hunith: (pulls back, cupping his face with one hand) It wasn't your fault. My boy, my son, being controlled like that. (Her voice breaks) And I wasn't even there. If something had happened to you…
Merlin: I'm fine now, Mum. (Hesitates, a lump forming in his throat) Besides, it's better you weren't there. My thoughts about you when I was enchanted… they weren't nice. I said and did so many awful things. (His voice breaks) If you had received even just an ounce of that hate, I would never have forgiven myself.
Hunith: (her eyes fill with fresh tears) You think I don't know my own son? (Pulls him close again) Nothing you said or did while enchanted could ever make me believe any different of you. You hear me? Nothing.
In the doorway, through the door left ajar, Arthur watches. A soft smile touches his lips. He turns to leave, not wanting to intrude on this private moment. But Hunith, over her son's shoulder, catches a glimpse of him before he slips away.
Later, when Merlin has composed himself and Hunith has wiped her own tears, she studies her son with a new, knowing look.
Hunith: Is there something else I should know?
Merlin: (confused) Uh?
Hunith: Arthur is a benevolent man. I knew that since the day he came to Ealdor to defend us from those bandits, all those years ago. I knew your bond was strong. But… Call it a mother's feeling. Perhaps there's more than benevolence and friendship between you now.
Merlin: (blushes furiously) Mom!
Hunith: (a knowing smile) Oh. So there is.
Merlin: You don't seem surprised.
Hunith: As I said, I know my son. The way you wrote about him in your letters… (Chuckles softly) You weren't exactly discreet.
Merlin: (groaning, covering his face) Oh, gods.
Hunith: I suspected Arthur's feelings more recently. (Her voice softens) When he came to tell me about your enchantment, about the danger you were in… he looked devastatingly hollow. With how terrible he seemed, I feared he was going to tell me you were dead. (A pause) And now, seeing him today, he looks… complete. And the way he looks at you, Merlin. He isn't subtle. Either of you.
Merlin: (lowers his hands) Is it… okay? With you?
Hunith: Are you happy?
Merlin: (a genuine, radiant smile) More than ever.
Hunith: Then I am happy for you. (Reaches out, squeezing his hand) That's all I've ever wanted. For you to be happy. (A pause, her brow furrowing slightly) Though I must ask. Does the queen—?
Merlin: Gwen and him are divorcing.
Hunith: (her eyes go wide) …Oh.
Merlin: (rushing on) Which is confidential information, so I really shouldn't have told you. But I don't want you to think Arthur is playing with me, or that this is something sordid. He really does love me. And I… I love him too.
His mother is silent for a long moment, processing. Then she pulls him into another fierce hug.
Hunith: That’s all I need to know.
Time skip. The Council Chambers.
When the king and queen present their divorce papers in the council, their voices are calm and measured. They give no more information than necessary: no mention of kisses or complications, no blame assigned. Simply that the love that once united them has run its course. They do not expect the court to be so distraught. Murmurs ripple through the chamber. A few voices rise in protest. Even the most conservative nobles—those who had always looked askance at Gwen's origins—are upset. Now they speak of the queen's wisdom, her fairness, her steady hand. They argue that dissolving this union would be a grave mistake.
Arthur is genuinely pleased they recognize Guinevere’s value. But deep down, he knows it goes beyond that. He is acutely aware he was not a great king while Merlin was enchanted. Months spent on search parties rather than the throne. A war he nearly caused. Now, watching the court's reaction, he understands exactly how badly he failed. They are not just finally appreciating Gwen; they are terrified of what happens if Arthur rules alone. Because they genuinely believe that without her, the kingdom would have fallen apart. He might feel offended that they distrust his abilities. But he kind of brought this reputation on himself.
Arthur and Gwen remain firm in their decision. However, the king ensures his former queen retains her noble status and a permanent place at court, arguing that she earned that and more through her service to the kingdom. That takes Guinevere by surprise. She cannot argue, however, as the nobles rush to accept after Arthur declares he intends to listen to her counsel more than any of theirs.
And, of course, Gwen confronts him after the council ends.
Gwen: You didn't discuss any of this with me.
Arthur: You gave me no choice. You rejected every asset I tried to give you in the divorce.
Gwen: I don't need compensation, Arthur.
Arthur: It's not about compensation. It's about what you deserve. I thought I'd have to fight the court to give it to you. But even they agree.
Gwen: (frustrated) Well, what if I don't want it? What if I just want to be a simple maidservant again?
Arthur: If that's what you truly wanted, I'd let you be. But I know it's not. Because I know you, Guinevere. There's a reason you're so beloved by the common people. You think like them. You understand their needs better than anyone at court. You give them a voice. I'm aware you weren't always happy with your duties as queen. But being able to help them? That has always brought you joy. You can't tell me otherwise.
Gwen: (her expression softens) You did pay attention.
Arthur: I always did.
Gwen: (smiles) You know, before everything, you were actually a decent husband.
Arthur: (a wry smile) Just decent?
Gwen: (chuckles softly) Alright. More than decent. (A pause) You're also a good king. You made mistakes. Terrible ones. But you're good.
Arthur: The court doesn't seem to think that anymore.
Gwen: Now they're resentful of your recent failures, rather than remembering all your previous achievements. Give them time. They'll remember.
To ensure Gwen's status, Arthur places some lands in Elyan's name. As expected, his former brother-in-law refuses to accept anything from him out of pride, out of lingering anger and out of stubborn refusal to be bought. But Arthur makes him see reason, arguing, calmly and persistently, that it's for Gwen's sake more than anything. That she deserves security, and that Elyan is the only one she'll accept it from. So Elyan reluctantly accepts. The look he gives Arthur says the feud is not over. But it also says, for now, he will stand aside, which Arthur sees as progress.
Time skip. In Merlin's Chambers (The King’s Antechambers).
Since Merlin spoke to Gaius about his attack in the market, and they identified the trigger, measures have been taken. His friends carefully avoid the words "dear" and "my lady" in his presence. Arthur has been close to banning them from the entire kingdom. An edict Merlin had to talk him out of with considerable effort. But Merlin knows the healing must come from within. With Gaius's help, he's learning that words only have the power he gives them. Morgana used those words to control him, yes, but he can take that power back. He will take it back.
The nightmares, however, persist.
Each night, memories surface. Sometimes it's the torture in the tower. The cold, the darkness, the endless parade of beloved faces turned cruel. Sometimes it's the moments he tried to kill Arthur, the savage joy he felt, the horror that follows waking. But curiously, the worst dreams are not the ones where he suffers or causes suffering. The worst are the ones where he's simply... with her.
And that night is no exception.
There in his dream, Merlin's head rests in Morgana's lap, content and warm. Her fingers stroke through his hair, slow and fond.
Morgana: (laughs lightly, amused) You really told her that?
Merlin: (smiling up at her, basking in her approval) I said nothing that wasn't true. It's an insult that she, of all people, is queen when that right belongs only to you.
Morgana: Arthur needed someone of lower status at his side. Someone who wouldn't make him feel inferior.
Merlin: And easy.
Morgana: (her hand stills) …What?
Merlin: She did cheat on him before the wedding. With Lancelot. I know it wasn't really him, but she didn't know that. (With a sneer) And she had the nerve to act offended when I mentioned her past. She even slapped me.
Morgana: …
Merlin: (sitting up slightly, concerned) My lady?
Morgana: (unexpectedly gentle) Gwen is many things. A lowly peasant girl. A traitor to her station. (A pause) But she is not a whore, my dear. She just has… a simple soul.
Merlin: (frowns) But she cheated. It was her choice.
Morgana: Not entirely. That was my doing as well. Lancelot gave her an enchanted bracelet. One I gave him.
Merlin: So… she didn't want to?
Morgana: (a sad smile) No, the bracelet awakened her deepest desires. The want was already there; the enchantment merely made her act on them. (A flicker of something vulnerable crosses her face) I knew she wouldn't cheat on Arthur regardless of her having any lingering feelings for Lancelot. She is too loyal for that. (Her voice hardens, but beneath it, there's pain) But she chooses poorly who to give that loyalty to.
Merlin: (vehemently) I will always be loyal to you, my lady.
Morgana: (her smile returns, soft and genuine, and resumes stroking his hair) I know you will.
The young warlock wakes with a gasp. His hand flies to his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs. The warmth of her touch still lingers on his skin like a phantom limb. The memory of her voice, her laugh, her kindness. He sits up, pressing his palms to his eyes.
Merlin: (thinking) It wasn't real. It wasn't me. She was using me.
But the dream didn't feel like using. It felt like belonging. It felt like being seen, being valued, being loved by someone who, in that moment, meant everything to him. And that, more than any torture, is what truly haunts him.
A soft knock. The door opens, and the king slips in.
Arthur: (his face etched with concern) I heard you. Another nightmare?
Merlin: (lowering his hands, attempting a wan smile) I wasn't that loud.
Arthur: I have a light sleep.
Merlin: We both know that's a lie. (Sighs) You can't sleep, can you?
Arthur: …No.
The young warlock was reluctant at first when Arthur offered him this new room. It's better than his old one and it's closer to Arthur. But he feared rumors. Arthur promptly calmed him, pointing out that as his personal manservant, he should have moved into the king's antechambers long ago anyway. The kisses he used to "convince" him also helped.
Now, while sleeping in the room next to Arthur's has its romantic advantages, Merlin knows it has served them more by helping them both sleep better through the night. Arthur wakes less from his own nightmares when he knows Merlin is near. Merlin surfaces less often from his when he can hear Arthur breathing through the wall.
Merlin: (pats the bed) Come here.
The king crosses the room, lies down, and pulls his beloved into his arms. Merlin snuggles against him, breathing in the familiar scent.
Arthur: (murmuring against his hair) I'm here. You're here.
Merlin: I know. I know. (A pause) Could you… stroke my hair?
Arthur: (confused by the request, but complying immediately) Sure.
Merlin: (murmurs, eyes closing) I want the touch to go away.
The king tenses for a moment, but his hand continues its gentle rhythm, fingers threading through dark hair with infinite care.
Arthur: (carefully) Merlin… I have to ask you something. But it's okay if you don't want to answer.
Merlin: (eyes still closed) What?
Arthur: Did Sarrum… (Swallows) Did he do something to you? While you were pretending to be Adalira?
Merlin: (shakes his head) It never went beyond what you witnessed. It was awful, but it never… passed that.
Arthur: (deeply relieved, but still worried) Still, it must have been—
Merlin: It's not about Sarrum. I still feel disgust every time I remember those days with him. But I'm not especially traumatized by it. I definitely don't regret killing him the way I did while enchanted. He deserved every bit of it.
Arthur: …Oh.
Merlin: It's Morgana.
Arthur: (his hand stills) She… touched you?
Merlin: Not in the way you're thinking.
Arthur: Hit you?
Merlin: No. (Sighs) It's complicated. You wouldn't understand.
Arthur: Try me.
Merlin: (pauses, gathering himself) If she had been aggressive, mean to me… it would be easier. If she had just hurt me, just tortured me… But she wasn't. She was nice. She acted like she cared for me. Like I mattered to her. Like we were friends, like we were before, when she was kind and compassionate. (A tear slips down his cheek) I actually felt… valued at her side. Loved.
Arthur: (his jaw tightens, but he says nothing)
Merlin: (his voice breaks) And then I remember all the things she made me do. And everything becomes a lie, because it was a lie, and I know that. I know she was using me. I know none of it was real. But it still hurts. (More tears fall) And I hate that. Because it means part of me misses her. Misses what I thought we had. And that's so, so messed up. I don't understand why I'm like this. But it almost feels like—
Arthur: Like losing her all over again.
Merlin: (startled, looks up)…Yes.
Arthur: It's not bad that you miss the old Morgana. I miss her too. She was good, once. Fierce and brilliant and so full of light. And at some point, that just… changed.
Merlin: (guilty) I changed her. I poisoned her. If I hadn't—
Arthur: I know. Gaius told me.
Merlin: (flinches, waiting for the accusation)
Arthur: But I think you're putting too much on yourself. She betrayed us first. It was her decision to ally herself with Morgause. Her choice to plot against Camelot, to hurt people.
Merlin: I confessed to her while enchanted why I did what I did. She was surprised. She didn't know Morgause was using her as the vessel.
Arthur: That might be true. But you didn't know that at the time. And even if she didn't know she was the vessel, there's no way she couldn't have known Morgause was behind the spell, behind the attack. And she still chose to say nothing. She still chose to stand with her. So don't say you changed her. She had already changed by then.
Merlin: (silent for a long moment, letting the words settle. Then quietly) You… you've thought about this for a while, haven't you?
Arthur: (smiles sadly) I've had time to think about a lot of things. (Sighs) The point is, maybe I'll never fully understand why she changed the way she did. Maybe I'll never know if things could have been different. But I still want to hold on to the good memories I have of her. You can do the same. (His voice softens) The Morgana who was your friend and the woman who hurt you wear the same face, but they are not the same person. So it's okay to mourn the one you lost. Even while you hate what she became.
Merlin stares at him and in that moment, with a sudden clarity, he understands. This is not just Arthur being wise. This is not just Arthur offering comfort. This is Arthur speaking from experience. From a place of having loved his sister and having lost her. Of having grieved her for years while she still breathed. He was wrong to think Arthur wouldn't understand. Arthur understands better than anyone could.
Without a word, Merlin presses himself closer, hiding his face in the warmth of Arthur's neck, his tears soaking Arthur's skin. Arthur's arms tighten around him, one hand resuming its steady movement in Merlin's hair, the other pressing flat against his back, anchoring him to the present, to this moment, to them. And they lie there in the darkness. Holding each other as lovers, yes, but also sharing the weight of grief for a woman—a sister, a friend—they both loved and lost.
Arthur: (barely a whisper) I've got you.
Merlin: (hums, eyes fluttering closed) I've got you too.
Time skip. In the Burial Vaults.
The air is cool, thick with the scent of stone and old incense. Merlin walks beside Arthur, his footsteps echoing in the place.
Merlin: I know I told you we should be discreet, but I think there are better places for a first date than this.
Arthur: (a small, private smile) We'll have our first date elsewhere. I just… wanted to show you something first.
Merlin: In the Burial Vaults? (eyes Arthur with mock suspicion) Are you sure you just don’t want to kill me and hide my body?
Arthur: (stops before a simple, elegant tomb) Here it is.
Merlin: Oh. A tomb. Great.
Arthur: Read the inscription.
Merlin: (rolls his eyes and starts reading) Here rest Lord… (Freezes) Lord Balinor Ambrosius. (Turns to Arthur, eyes wide and already glistening) Arthur…
Arthur: Go on.
The young warlock steps forward, trembling. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing the cold stone. A choked sound escapes him.
Merlin: You actually did it.
Arthur: I promised I would.
Of course Merlin remembers. He was enchanted when Arthur made that promise. His poisoned mind hadn't believed him, convinced it was just another cruel lie, another manipulation in the narrative Morgana had crafted for him. But Arthur has kept every promise. "I'll legalize magic again"—and he did. "I will let you kill me"—and he stupidly did. And now "I'll see that your father has a knight's burial" and here it stands. Solid. Real. Done.
This shouldn't be a shock. Merlin knows Arthur is a man true to his word. But still, the proof of it, standing here before him, touching the stone that marks his father's final rest is…
Arthur: His name was cleared. And his title, restored. (A pause) I know it's not much. But he deserved to at least rest with honor.
Merlin: It’s everything. (turning to him, tears spilling over) When did you—How could you even—I didn't even remember where…
Arthur: I'm the king, remember? I just ordered his remains found and brought here.
Merlin: (stunned) From Essetir?
Arthur: We're on good terms with King Lot. (Shrugs, as if moving a body across kingdoms is a small thing) It wasn't a problem.
Merlin: (lifts an eyebrow, incredulous) Really?
Arthur: (a pause) Well… no.
Merlin: (crosses his arms)
Arthur: But hardly any king will dare deny me anything now. Though the situation with Sarrum and Adalira was cleared up, the reputation of being a murderous tyrant who kills neighboring kings still kind of… lingers. So I may have… taken advantage of it. A bit.
Merlin: (stares at him. Then a watery incredulous laugh escapes him) You used your damaged reputation to intimidate a king into giving up my father's body.
Arthur: (grinning) I prefer to think of it as persuasive negotiation.
Merlin: (shaking his head, still laughing through his tears) You're ridiculous.
Arthur: (steps closer, his voice softening) I'm in love.
Merlin looks at him. At this man—this impossible, wonderful, infuriating man—who has climbed mountains, risked his kingdom, his very life, for him. Who has kept every promise. Who has used even his ruined reputation to give Merlin something precious.
"I love you. I'll spend the rest of my life showing it to you. If you let me."
In an impulse born from the soul, the young warlock closes the distance and pulls his king into a kiss.
Merlin: (pulling back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against Arthur's) You are so cheesy. (Gives Arthur the most beautiful smile) I love you too. Thank you.
Arthur: You do realize we are in front of your father, right?
Merlin: (shoves him)
Arthur laughs, pulling Merlin back into his arms. Merlin goes willingly, still laughing, still crying, still feeling everything all at once.
And somewhere, in whatever realm comes after, Balinor Ambrosius watches his son—happy, loved, free—and smiles.
HIII!! I just finished reading your dragonlords son seriesss and im just wondering if you will still continue the storyyyy 🥹 because i really really really really love your story and the cliffhanger at the end makes me wanna sobbbb 😭😭😭 i just love your story very much and i ilove how you write arthur and merlin dynamic 😭 ALSOOO I LOVE HUMORRRRR!!
im not rushing you or anything but if you can answer meee that would mean a lotttt!! thankssss and have my lots of love for your ficsss 🫶🏻🥰
HII! Thank you so much for your words! 🤧💕 It really means a lot. And I'm glad you are enjoying the series.
Of course I will continue it, don’t worry. This habit I have of writing new merthur stories while having other merthur stories on going has kind of backfired on me 😅.
Once I finish my Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU ( ̶I̶ ̶L̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶Y̶o̶u̶ I Hate You! in AO3 ) That’s the first fic I will get back on ;)
those nasty comments on your fic are probably AI. i know its hard, but they dont deserve your attention, let alone any reaction other than reporting them. and maybe enable comment moderation
*esnding kudos your way*
Awww Thank you so much! ❤️🤧
Honestly, I kind of expected it. Writing Merthur while Arthur and Gwen are still married always seems to bring out that particular crowd for some reason. I'm definitely not the first to experience it.
But hey, I'm trying to look on the bright side. If my fic is getting hate, it must be at least somewhat popular, right?
Plus, I’ve also gotten a bunch of great comments too!
They are just the sweetest! 🥰 I love my readers so much❤️❤️❤️❤️
Merlin doesn't remember why he awoke. There was a reason, he was sure, to not follow the voice he heard. The same reason why he and Arthur were in these woods for the first place, his purpose slipping like gossamer from his fingers.
But now reason fades away as he sees Arthur standing by the water's edge. He turns to Merlin, wearing just his breeches and a white tunic, feet bare in the earth. Even under the pale moonlight, his skin shines golden. His lips curve into a soft smile, the way they only do when there's no one else around.
"Merlin," he says softly. Merlin's eyes track the bob of his throat as Arthur speaks. "Come here."
"What are you doing?" Merlin asks, but he's already obeying, caught in his sun's orbit. Arthur's smile grows as Merlin approaches, and he holds out a hand, beckoning.
"I want to show you something."
Merlin frowns. What on earth could Arthur want to show him, in the middle of the night, deep in the woods? What on earth are they doing here—?
"Oh, don't give me that face," Arthur teases, and catches Merlin's wrist as soon as he's within reach. A hand curls around his skin, hot like a brand. "Just trust me."
"Arthur," Merlin tries again, his mouth going dry. He swallows, like there's something sticky clogged in his throat. "What are you—"
"I know what you want, Merlin," Arthur says. "I know how you look at me."
Merlin doesn't breathe.
"It's alright," Arthur continues. One hand raises to gently trace Merlin's cheekbone. "I want it, too."
Something shudders under Merlin's skin. It must be desire. It must be a want so deep that it's making him feel sick. Like when you've starved for so long a full meal makes you ill.
"Kiss me, Merlin," Arthur whispers. Begging. And Merlin can't resist the temptation.
His mouth falls on Arthur's with a groan, raising his hands to cup around Arthur's nape. Arthur's mouth opens easily under his, tongue swiping hot over his bottom lip, a sigh shared as a singular breath. Arthur's hands wrap around both of Merlin's wrists, like he's afraid Merlin will flee. As if he ever could.
Arthur takes a step back, and Merlin follows, wanting, needing. The slick sounds of mouth on mouth are intoxicating. He nips at Arthur's lips and Arthur responds with an moan, only trapping Merlin further.
Another step, and something cold and wet laps at Merlin's feet. But how could he care when Arthur is so warm, like starlight in his hands?
The kiss breaks, but before Merlin can muster a complaint Arthur is pulling him even closer, fisting his hands in Merlin's tunic. "Shhh," Arthur murmurs, and a tongue roughly drags up the side of Merlin's neck. Merlin whines, clinging to Arthur.
Heavy tendrils of damp creep up from Merlin's knees, to his hips, to his waist. Arthur latches his teeth onto Merlin's throat and Merlin can't help but beg, his tongue loose like he'd just drank through the kingdom's cellar. He falls limply into Arthur's hold, his strength leaving him.
Arthur can have all of him. Arthur can have whatever he wants.
"So delicious," Arthur hisses, and Merlin gasps with marvelous pain as Arthur's teeth dig into his collarbone. His head spins and eyes blur. "You'll feed me so well."
The sounds of the water wash all other noises away. Like footsteps on the riverbank, or the furious shouting of Merlin's name.
Arthur fists his hand into Merlin's hair, and pulls back. Merlin cries out, still arching into Arthur's hold. He grabs at Arthur, tries to hold him closer, cold scales catching at his fingers. "You're too late," Arthur says, eyes silted and yellow. "He's mine now."
"Merlin-!"
And then the siren captures Merlin's mouth again, and drags him down, down, into the depths. And Merlin lets him.
Okay, I don't know if it’s another hater or the same hater through a different account, but just because I have time, lets break it down.
"It's really annoying that Merlin is Arthur's little sex object."
They literally just had sex after 10 chapters? (17 parts in tumblr) And it was merely a handjob given by Arthur to Merlin. And just because Merlin insisted and begged since Arthur didn’t want to do it seeing Merlin was clearly unwell. That's why Arthur prioritized Merlin’s pleasure over his all the time. It wasn't about his sexual needs, it was about caring for Merlin, making him feel safe again.
"he chases after him at the slightest hint of affection. It's truly pathetic to wait for someone for years while he pursues and makes Guinevere his queen, and then suddenly he loves him and wants to flaunt him as his royal whore while Guinevere remains queen."
I corrected some typos there. So I guess it's referring to this part:
I thought it was obvious Merlin was mocking Arthur for complaining about having to wait months. Merlin never actually waited for Arthur, because he never in his wildest dreams considered Arthur would ever love him back. Arthur put his kingdom at risk, carried Merlin up a mountain, offered his life in order to safe him and still Merlin wouldn't believe Arthur loved him right away. Arthur literally had to drop to his knees because Merlin wouldn't believe his love confession. That's hardly a "slightest hint of affection", especially coming from a king.
About Arthur suddenly loving Merlin, as Arthur himself textually said in the fic, three months is hardly considered ‘overnight’. Arthur had to go through a hell where Merlin hated him and despised him to finally realise his feelings. And he doesn't want to flaunt Merlin as "his royal whore". What he wants is not to repeat with Merlin the same mistake he did with Guinevere in the past. Lets remember in canon he went as far as to tell her he could be judge for who he's seen with and that it wasn't appopiate for them to be together in "His Father's Son" (S04, E05). He later took back those words, of course. But he made her feel like something to be ashamed of or that she wasn't good enough if even for a moment. He didn't want Merlin to feel that way. Also, it is unclear if Gwen will remain queen yet.
"And honestly, if someone waits for years, it's sad, pathetic, and pitiful. A little self-respect wouldn't hurt. And then you have Arthur, still going on about how wonderful Guinevere is, how he loved her, is still in love with her, and always will be."
Again, Merlin never actually waited. And Merlin does have self respect. After the drunken kiss he distanced himself from Arthur. Later, when Arthur confronted him about the kiss, Merlin told him off, because Arthur was treating the kiss situation as if only Merlin was at fault.
Arthur never said he still loved Gwen, he said he still cared for her. Which means, he still loves her, yes, but not in the romantic sense anymore.
"And that Merlin doesn't make Arthur pay for breaking his heart for years, and that now this guy decides that sleeping with Merlin is good enough (...)"
Why should Merlin make Arthur pay for not corresponding him? It's not like Arthur played with him or gave him false hopes. Arthur wasn't even aware of Merlin's feelings. The rest of the sentence that I omitted is just incredibly disrespectful toward Gwen.
"He says he truly loved Gwen to Elyan, but now he says he only felt that joy of love with Merlin.
Either he's a jerk who sleeps around, or he's a liar."
Added the words in black, because I supposed that's what they really meant to say. So under their logic, someone can only fall in love once in his life? Arthur loving Merlin doesn't make what he felt for Gwen less. There's no part in the fic where it's said Arthur only ever felt "that joy of love with Merlin". Arthur ended things with Gwen before being intimate with Merlin, maybe it was too soon, but saying Arthur "sleeps around" is inadequate.
I'm going to skip the rest, because is more of the same, and go straight to the final sentence:
"Merlin deserves at least for Arthur to declare unequivocally in front of everyone that he is the one and only, and that he has never loved anyone like he loves him, and that Guinevere didn't matter, or at least that he loves him more than he ever loved her."
I agree Merlin deserves all the love Arthur can give him. But saying Gwen didn't matter is an insult. Arthur may love Merlin more than he ever did Gwen, but I don't see why it has to be a competition. Arthur fought for Merlin, just as he did for Gwen in the past. Obviously he doesn't love Merlin the same he did Gwen, because both are different people. It's not a matter of quantity, as far as I know, love is not something you can meassure.
Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 , Part 11 , Part 12 , Part 13 , Part 14, Part 15 , Part 16 , Part 17 (You're here) , Part 18 , Part 19
In the Tournament Grounds
Elyan remembers when Gwen was banished.
He had been so afraid as he waited for the sentence, certain it would be death. He’d begged her to flee, to let him help her escape. She’d refused, clutching his hands through the bars, her eyes full of a faith he didn’t share. “Arthur is merciful. He won’t.” And he’d complied.
When that mercy turned out to be banishment, he wanted to renounce his knighthood and go with her. He’d abandoned her once; he wouldn’t again. But she stopped him. “What I did was grave. Unforgivable. You don’t have to pay for my mistake. Don’t hold a grudge against Arthur. It was my fault.” And again, he’d complied.
Now Arthur has done the very thing he banished Gwen for. He has broken her heart. And there are no consequences. No trail. No banishment. No loss of crown or title. Just quiet understanding and a new supposed love blooming from the ruins of the old. Elyan is sick of complying.
Arthur: (approaches) Elyan.
Elyan: (doesn’t look at him, testing the weight of his sword) Merlin put on your armor rather quickly.
Arthur: He didn’t. He’s still angry at me for letting this happen. He refused to tend to me.
Elyan: (a bitter smile) So he does know how to refuse something. Good to know.
Arthur: (sighs) Elyan. Please. We should at least talk before you try to crack my skull.
Elyan: (finally turns, his eyes hard) We’ve talked enough. I’m not here to talk.
A herald’s horn sounds, calling the combatants to the arena. Elyan turns on his heel and strides toward the sand. After a moment, Arthur follows.
The duel begins.
Their swords meet with a sharp clang that cuts through the morning air.
Elyan: (lunges, his voice a harsh grunt) You married my sister! You made a vow!
Arthur: (parries, shoving him back) Oh, now you want to talk?
Elyan: (presses the attack, driving Arthur back a step) Do you know all she endured for marrying you? The whispers, the insults, for years! Why lift her up if you were just going to let her fall?!
Arthur: (blocks a heavy overhead strike, teeth gritted) Because I loved Guinevere! I truly did!
Elyan: (swings wide, forcing Arthur to dodge) Then your love is fickle! (feints low, then goes high) It seems the king has a taste for servants, doesn't he? (His blade grazes Arthur's pauldron) Will you replace Merlin, too, when you tire of him?
Arthur: It isn’t like that!
To Arthur's surprise, he is struggling. He holds back, unwilling to maim a friend, but Elyan shows no such restraint. A furious combination breaks Arthur's guard, and a slash opens a line of blood across his ribs. A final, desperate parry is knocked aside, and a kick to the back of his knee sends him crashing to the sand.
Arthur looks up, disarmed, the taste of dirt and blood in his mouth. Elyan stands over him, sword raised for a final, plunging strike. The fury burns in his eyes.
Arthur: (thinking in fear) Fuck, I underestimated him. Oh, Gods, I'm going to die! Merlin will kill me! I promised him I'd be safe. Though I’ll already be dead. No, he'll kill Elyan instead.
The sword falls.
It doesn't strike him, but embeds itself in the sand a hair's breadth from Arthur's temple, the blade vibrating with the force of the blow.
For a long moment, there is only the sound of Elyan's ragged, furious breathing. He stares down at the king at his feet. Then, without a word, he turns his back, leaving his sword behind, and stalks from the arena.
The audience is stunned. Arthur allows himself a single, shaky sigh of relief.
Time skip. Elyan’s Tent.
Arthur: (bandaged, enters) For a moment there… I truly thought you were going to kill me.
Elyan: So did I.
Arthur: Well. I’m glad you didn’t.
An uncomfortable silence stretches.
Elyan: You didn’t have to let me win.
Arthur: I didn’t. I’ll admit I was overconfident. And I didn’t want to hurt you. But I wasn’t planning on losing. I’m too proud for that.
Elyan: (a pause, then gives a slight, conceding nod) I can believe that.
Arthur: I’m sorry. I know it doesn't fix anything. But you must know that I am. And you don’t have to forgive me. But Merlin… His only mistake was that drunken kiss, I swear to you. He kept pushing me away, fighting the very idea of us, until Guinevere and I had officially ended things. And even then, he was hesitant. He is not totally blameless, but he isn’t the villain you are picturing in your head either.
Elyan: (sighs) I know. I remember him avoiding you like the plague before all this. And it’s not as if you’ve had time for a proper affair after he was cured. But… somehow, that’s worse.
Arthur: (frowns, confused) How so?
Elyan: Because then it means a single kiss was enough to change everything. That's how small my sister's place in your heart was. A drunken mistake, and it was over.
Arthur: No. It wasn’t just the kiss, though I won’t deny it played a part. It was… the experience of losing him. You know the saying, ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’? That’s what happened to me. I lost him in every possible way and it destroyed me.
Elyan: Had it been Gwen taken instead would you have fought for her just as fiercely? Would it have unraveled you the same way?
Arthur: Of course I would have. I would fight for her now, with everything I have. I still care for her, Elyan. That hasn’t vanished.
Elyan: (studies him for a long moment, then sighs, the fight leaving him in a slow exhale) I will never forgive you for this. Not truly. But Merlin… I may. With time. He hurt her, but he also saved her from Morgana. He was there for her when I could not. And when that day comes… (a faint, grudging hint of something almost like humor touches his eyes) I will tell him how catastrophically bad his taste in men is. Seriously.
Arthur: (a faint, sad smile forms) People will ask about the duel. I won't have Guinevere suffer any more harm than I already caused her. We need a story.
Elyan: What do you suggest?
Arthur: You’ve resigned your position. And I can admit, if only to myself, that I haven’t been ruling well these past months. We can say you no longer agree with my decisions as king. It’s not… a complete lie.
Elyan stays silent, weighing the cost of the lie against the protection it offers.
Arthur: (extends a hand) What do you say?
Elyan: (after a tense moment, takes it, his grip firm) For Gwen.
The king nods. It isn’t forgiveness. It is a truce. For now, it’ll have to be enough.
Elyan: I’m surprised Merlin didn’t stop me back there. I guess he underestimated me, too, if he couldn’t even be bothered to watch.
Arthur: (freezes) He wouldn’t.
Elyan: What?
Arthur: He wouldn’t leave me unprotected. Not for a second. Not even from you. Even under the enchantment, his magic acted to protect me. He should have been there. He should have stopped you. (His eyes widen in dawning horror, the color draining from his face) Why didn’t he?
Without another word, Arthur shoves past Elyan, bursting out of the tent, and breaks into a run, ignoring the sharp protest in his bandaged ribs, his heart a frantic drum against his chest.
The king sprints towards the thinning crowd, his gaze wildly scanning the place. He nearly collides with Leon and Gwaine.
Leon: Sire! Your injury—
Arthur: (frantic) Where is Merlin?! Was he in the crowd?
Gwaine: (frowning, exchanging a worried glance with Leon) No. We talked in the armoury just before the duel. He said he was heading to the lists. We thought he was with you.
The king’s blood turns to ice.
Arthur: (whispers) No… (Roars in pure dread) NO!
He turns and runs towards the armoury, towards the last place Merlin was seen. Leon and Gwaine share an horrified look before sprinting after their king.
Merlin is missing.
Moments before. The Market Stalls Area.
The young warlock pushes through the thinning crowd, his focus fixed on the distant sounds of clashing steel from the arena. He needs to get there. He needs to see. Stop any possible bad outcome.
Merlin: (muttering as he passes) Excuse me. Sorry. Let me through.
A young mother, balancing a child on her hip and a basket of apples, turns to soothe her fussing son.
Mother: Shhh, it’s alright, dear. We’re going home now.
Dear.
The word, soft and maternal, slices through the market noise and strikes Merlin’s mind with the precision of a crossbow bolt. He stops as if yanked by a chain.
Merlin: What…?
A burly man carrying a rolled-up tapestry on his shoulder jostles him hard, impatient with the obstruction.
Man: Out of the way!
The young warlock stumbles, his foot catching on a loose cobblestone, and falls hard. He doesn’t get up. He kneels on the ground, his breath coming in hitched gasps. The world is tilting, but he can’t move. He stays there, between passing boots and hems of cloaks, the sounds of the people around becoming a muffled roar.
Merlin: (thinking in panic) Where… Where am I?
He fights for focus and the blur clears for a moment as a figure approaches. It’s an elderly woman, probably a stallholder, and her face is kind as she leans over him.
Old Stallholder: Oh, goodness! Are you hurt? (reaches out a hand) Can you get up, dear?
Dear.
The wrinkled, concerned face above him melts, reshaping into young pale skin, dark hair, and green eyes. The worried expression remains, just as the gesture of the hand and the kind tone, but there’s an ill intent behind it. “Come. You need your strength, or you’ll fade away.”
Merlin: (shouts) No! Get away from me! (scrambles backward, his back hitting the wood of a merchant’s stall)
His chest contracts. He can’t draw a full breath. The solidity of the wood at his back feels like the cold stone of the tower. People are approaching, circling him, but everything is so distorted he can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. Just like in the tower. He's back in the dark again. Trapped. Surrounded.
Merlin: No… Please. (Touches his wrists, expecting the cold iron bracelets, but they are not there, so he digs his fingers into the wood behind him instead) This is real. The rest is not. This is real. The rest is not. This is real. The rest is not. This is—
He repeats those words like a mantra and once started, he doesn’t stop.
Back in the Present.
The king searches the streets in a blind panic. The armoury, Merlin’s room, the stables. All of them are empty. No guard, no servant, no knight has seen him. The familiar, icy dread is closing around his heart again.
Leon: Arthur, breathe.
Arthur: (wheeling) She’s taken him. She’s taken him again.
Gwaine: We just started looking. The citadel is huge. He could be anywhere. Calm down.
Arthur: (whirling on him, eyes wild) I will not calm down! Not until I find him! Do you understand? He is gone!
Gelda: Your Majesty.
The voice is quiet, weathered by the years. The king turns and he recognises her instantly. Gelda Seward, Tyr’s mother. The sight of her floods him with a guilt so deep it momentarily cuts through his fear.
Arthur: Mistress Seward.
Gelda: You are looking for Merlin? Your manservant?
Arthur: (surprised) Have you… have you seen him?
Gelda: (nods) Come with me.
Time skip. Bakery. Seward’s Home.
The small room is warm with the scent of bread and herbs. Merlin is curled on the floor in a corner, wrapped in a blanket, his back pressed hard against the wall as if trying to merge with it.
Arthur: (enters, and his eyes find him instantly) Merlin!
Merlin: (eyes staring at nothing, whispering) This is real... The rest is not… This is real... The rest is not…
Gelda: He won’t stop saying that. He’s been like this since I found him.
Gelda Seward remembers. She remembers her son’s execution. His desperate pleas ringing in the courtyard: “Merlin! He’s the traitor! He altered the saddle! My mother is in danger!” No one listened. The axe fell. After a decade of loyalty and service, that was her son’s end: a traitor’s death. She had searched the crowd that day until she found Merlin’s face. She could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile.
Some time later, the king came to her door with apologies. Tyr had been framed. There were promises of compensation, a better resting place. Empty gestures. None of it could bring Tyr back. When she asked for the true culprit’s name, and the king had hesitated, she knew. “It was that boy. Merlin, isn’t it?” The king had rushed to explain his manservant had been a victim of dark magic. That his actions weren’t his own. Where was this mercy for my son? she had wanted to scream. In the end, she had only asked him softly to leave.
She recognized Merlin in the market today. A whirlwind of grief and fury rose in her. There he was the one responsible for her son’s death, defenseless. Justice, finally within her grasp. She approached, her hands trembling with a pent-up rage. She would finally avenge her son. She would—
But then the boy looked up and his eyes were oceans of tears and animal terror. His lips trembled, and a single, shattered word escaped him, so quiet it was almost lost in the din: “Mom?”
Mom. This boy, this enemy, was someone’s son, too. And he looked so utterly, devastatingly fragile and lost.
So she took him to her home. She didn’t know why. She wrapped him in a blanket, murmuring reassurances she didn’t feel. She didn’t know what she intended to do. And then, driven by a compassion she resented, she went for the king.
Now, she watches as the king falls to his knees on her floor, reaching for his servant, his own hands trembling.
Arthur: Shhh. I’m here. You’re safe. (Places a hand gently on Merlin’s arm)
Merlin: (his gaze finally focuses and looks at Arthur with a heartbreaking doubt) You… real? (A hand rises, his fingers brushing Arthur’s cheek tentatively)
Arthur: (covers Merlin’s hand with his own, pressing it against his face) Yes. I’m real.
Merlin: (still looking unconvinced)
Arthur: (voice soft, but desperate for proof) Athusa. The name of that ridiculous white dragon. Would I know that if I wasn’t me?
Merlin: (stares for a moment, then lets out a weak chuckle) It’s Aithusa.
Arthur: (a wave of profound relief washes over him) Whatever. It’s a terrible name.
Merlin: I gave her that name.
Arthur: That explains everything.
For a moment, they just look at each other. Then, with a broken sound, Merlin’s composure shatters. He doesn’t just hug Arthur; he collapses into him, his face buried in Arthur’s shoulder, his whole body trembling. Arthur holds him tightly, his own eyes clenched shut, one hand cradling the back of Merlin’s head.
Merlin: You are real!
Arthur: I am.
Merlin: You came for me.
Arthur: Always. Always.
Merlin had said something similar after Arthur got him out of the Dark Tower. "You all came for me?" His voice had been shaky with wonder, but there was also disbelief. Arthur knows he was enchanted then, faking. But it wasn’t entirely a performance. No, Merlin had looked genuinely surprised to see them there. Especially Arthur.
Now, kneeling on the floor of a baker's home, holding Merlin as he trembles after saying those same words in that same incredulous, hopeful tone, Arthur understands. Merlin had truly not believed they would come. He had believed, in that cold, isolated place, that Arthur had abandoned him. Left him to suffer.
The realization is a knife to Arthur's chest. How much torture did Morgana inflict to break Merlin's spirit so completely? To insert that inconceivable doubt. That his friends, his king, would simply leave him to rot? Arthur holds him tighter, as if he could crush the memory of that despair out of existence.
He helps Merlin stand, but Merlin doesn't let go. He remains clutched to Arthur like a lifeline, as if he were the only solid thing in a world of illusions. As if everything else could still be a lie.
The king notices, dimly, that only Leon remains by the door. Gwaine must have gone for horses. Good. They will need to leave soon. Then his gaze meets Gelda's. She stands in the corner of her own home, watching the king cradle his servant like something precious, something irreplaceable. Her expression is carefully, painfully neutral.
Gelda: I'm sorry I couldn't have him in better conditions for you, Sire. I tried to make him eat. Tried to get him to sit somewhere more comfortable. He refused everything I offered besides the blanket.
Arthur: (his voice filled with gratitude) You brought him inside. You kept him safe. (Looks at her, a world of unspoken debt in his eyes) That is more than enough. I'll… I'll repay you for this.
Gelda: (shakes her head slowly) With the compensations you have already given me, I can leave this city without worries. There's no need for more, Your Majesty. (Her gaze drifts to Merlin, who remains lost to the world except to Arthur) You told me he was enchanted. When he… when he framed my son.
Arthur: (nods, his voice heavy) His will was taken from him. He was not himself.
Gelda: I struggle to believe such magic can exist. (Her voice softens, almost against her will) But he has clearly been tortured. I cannot deny that. (A pause) You should send for his mother, Sire.
Arthur: (stares at her, confused)
Gelda: He was calling for her. In the market.
Arthur: (nods) I believe Gaius sent word. She should be on her way.
Gelda: Good. She must have been so worried. (Her voice falters slightly) No mother should have their children taken from them.
The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of her own loss. The king nods in understanding and guides Merlin gently toward the door. He murmurs a soft sincere farewell and leads the boy out of her bakery. Gelda watches them go until the door closes behind them.
She sighs. Perhaps she will never truly forgive these people in her heart. The scar of her son's death will never fully heal. But as a mother, she would not wish another mother the same pain. Much less cause it.
Finally, Gelda turns back to her hearth, to the quiet of her empty home, and begins to knead the morning's dough.
Time skip. The Royal Chambers.
The journey back exists only in fragments for Merlin. Arthur lifting him onto the horse. The solid warmth of his chest against Merlin's back. Everything else is a blur.
Now, Merlin is lying in a bed—Arthur's bed—the soft linen unfamiliar beneath his fingers. Arthur is beside him, propped on one elbow, watching him with an expression of quiet, vigilant relief. They have been like this for a long time, just looking at each other. Merlin doesn't know how long. He doesn't know how he got here.
Merlin: (barely above a whisper) Arthur.
Arthur: (startles slightly) Yes?
Merlin: I'm in your bed.
Arthur: (a faint, tender smile) I noticed.
Merlin: Why am I in your bed? (His brow furrows, confusion bleeding into fear) I… I don't remember laying here. I don't remember entering this room. (His eyes well up, dread coiling in his chest) Why can't I remember?
The gaps in his memory, the lack of awareness of his surroundings, the loss of concept of time. It all feels too much like the Tower.
Arthur: (voice gentle and steady) Merlin, it's alright. I brought you here. I thought you would be more comfortable. I guided you to the mattress, but you wouldn't let go of me. So I laid too. Not that I'm complaining.
A warmth flickers in Merlin's chest, but the fear still remains.
Arthur: (softer) I was worried. You haven't spoken a word since we left the bakery.
Merlin: (stares at him, uncomprehending) I was… at a bakery?
Arthur: (reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from Merlin's forehead) Yes. A kind woman helped you. I'll tell you everything. (His thumb traces the curve of Merlin's cheekbone) But right now, you're here. You're safe. And you're with me.
Merlin: (repeats like a prayer) Here. Safe. With you. (After a pause, frowns) You… you were going to duel. Elyan?
Arthur: (nods) I did. He won.
Merlin: (His frowns deepens) That cannot be right. You fight better than Elyan.
Arthur: I let him win.
Merlin: (suddenly scrambles backward across the bed, his back hitting the headboard)
Arthur: Merlin?
Merlin: (eyes wide in terror) You are not real!
Arthur: (sitting up, hands raised) I am! Merlin, I'm real—
Merlin: No! You wouldn't let Elyan win! That's not something you would do! You're too proud, you'd rather die than—
Arthur: (the words tumble out, desperate) Yes, you're right, you're right! I lied. I underestimated him. He won fairly. That's what happened.
Merlin: (narrows his eyes) Why lie?
Arthur: Because I have an ego, Merlin! Something you have frequently informed me I possess in excessive quantity. (Yanks up his shirt, revealing the bandage) See? He did this. It's real. I'm real.
Merlin: (stares at the wound, then his hands fly up to cover his face, his voice splintering) I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this. I can't tell what's real anymore. I see you, I hear you, and I don't know if you're really here or if you're just… (His shoulders shake) If you're just another illusion.
Arthur: An illusion?
Merlin: In the Tower.
Morgana's voice echoes in Arthur’s memory: "Oh, how he screamed. He cried for you the most. 'Arthur, please. I'm sorry.’ It was so heartbreaking I almost felt bad"
"You looked me in the eye and called me a 'vile, deceitful creature.' As if I weren't even a person! And then… you lit the pyre. You let me burn!” Then Merlin's own voice, twisted by the enchantment, but with a pain that wasn't fabricated. “I was in pain, begging you, and you laughed! You stood there and laughed!"
"It's as if his memories have been poisoned and twisted," Finally Gaius’ observation, his voice filled with grief. "Not just against you, but against everyone he loves."
Arthur had only a vague understanding of what the Teine Diaga consisted of. He still doesn't fully comprehend it. But he knows this: Morgana invaded Merlin's mind, his memories, and turned them into weapons against him. If memories can be rewritten. If love can be twisted into hate in such a way. Then of course Merlin cannot tell what is real. The people he trusted most have been turned into instruments of his torment. It’s a miracle he even lets Arthur close.
Merlin: I don't understand. I was fine before. (Clenches his eyes shut) I'm supposed to be free.
Arthur: You are free.
Merlin: No. (Shakes his head, frantic) Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing is real. I can't—I can't—
Arthur kisses him. It is not calculated. It is not an impulsive move either. Just the only language left to him that Merlin cannot mistake for cruelty. He feels Merlin freeze beneath his touch, just an instant. Then a sound escapes Merlin's throat. Arousal, yes, but also recognition. Arthur's hands move with hesitation, tracing the lines of Merlin's shoulders, his spine, the wings of his shoulder blades, afraid that any wrong movement could scare his beloved. He is surprised when it is Merlin who pulls him closer, who deepens the kiss with a desperation that steals Arthur's breath. When they finally pull apart, gasping, Merlin is staring at him, lips parted and swollen, eyes wide and wet.
Arthur: (thinking, recriminating himself) Gods, what are you doing? He is not well and you are kissing him. You were raised better than this! (Opens his mouth to apologize) Merlin, I—
Merlin: Again.
He pulls Arthur forward, pressing their lips together once more. And again. And again. What began as an anchor becomes something else. Something hungrier, more urgent. They keep kissing. Arthur's hands tangle in strands of dark hair as Merlin makes small, desperate sounds against his mouth, and Arthur feels himself suspended in the best of paradises. It is not until Merlin's fingers begin to explore beneath his tunic that Arthur's sense returns.
Arthur: (catches his wrists) Wait. Merlin. We should stop.
Merlin: (urgent) No. I need you.
Arthur: You're not… (Swallows hard) I don't want to take advantage.
Merlin: Please. (His eyes shine with tears and something fiercer) You are the only thing that feels real.
Arthur: Exactly. (His grip on Merlin's wrists loosens, becomes a caress) You're not in your right mind.
Merlin: Please, Arthur. I'm begging you. (Leans forward, pressing his lips to Arthur's neck, open-mouthed and desperate)
Arthur: (closes his eyes, his head falling back slightly despite himself, thinking) Gods, give me strength. (Pulls Merlin away just barely, his voice strained) Merlin…
Merlin: Please. Touch me. (Frees his hands from Arthur's gentle grip, and they go dangerously lower, tracing Arthur's stomach, and then the waistband of his breeches) Let me feel you. Please.
The king curses his weak resolve. He should stop this. He should be the responsible one, the one who protects Merlin even from himself. But he can't deny Merlin in this fragile state. And Gods, he wants him. He wants him so bad it hurts and burns. It is a hunger that has been building since the tavern kiss and through enchanted betrayals. He looks at Merlin—flushed, desperate, asking—and knows he has already lost this battle with himself.
Gently, reverently, Arthur lays Merlin on his back. One hand cradles his cheek, thumb brushing away the lingering tears. The other slides around his waist, pulling their bodies flush. And he kisses him again, slowly, deeply. Then his fingers find the knot of Merlin's neckerchief. He tugs it loose, letting the fabric fall away. He stares, mesmerized, at the pale skin of Merlin's throat, the arch of his collarbones. He traces kisses along them worshipfully.
At some point, shirts are discarded. Arthur's mouth goes dry as the fabric slips away to reveal more of that exquisite pale skin. He has technically seen Merlin's bare chest before. In the East Tower, when Merlin was chained and hateful. But the circumstances hadn't allowed him to truly take in the sight. Now he does and he is captivated by it.
Then he notices the scars.
Lines and puckered marks decorate Merlin's skin like a terrible map, a burn mark in the center of it all. Some scars he can guess the origins of due to the stories Gaius has told him. But seeing the proof of it is different from hearing the tales. Arthur has never seen this many scars on any knight or soldier. It's a visual chronicle of sacrifice and pain endured for Camelot's sake. For his sake. Another thing he will probably beat himself over for the rest of his life.
Still, Merlin has never been more beautiful.
Arthur bows his head and kisses each scar slowly. It is not just love or passion that moves him. It is care. It is an apology for every wound he never knew about, every danger he failed to prevent. It is a promise that he will spend the rest of his life making up for all of it.
Merlin moans, and it is the most wonderful melody Arthur has ever heard. He reaches again for Arthur's breeches, desperate and eager. But Arthur stops him, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
Arthur: (voice low and rough) No. This is about you. I'll take care of you.
Before Merlin can ask what he means, Arthur kisses him again. As he does, his hand begins a slow, deliberate journey downward. Lower. And lower. Merlin gasps into the kiss when Arthur's fingers finally close around him.
Merlin: (in a broken whisper, eyes losing focus for a moment) Arthur!
Arthur: (against his mouth) I'm here.
He moves his hand. Slowly at first, learning the rhythm of Merlin's responses, the hitch of his breath, the flutter of his eyelids. Merlin whines, his fingers scrabbling at Arthur's shoulders, his back, leaving faint, desperate scratches in their wake. His hips buck, seeking more, seeking him.
Arthur watches him—the flush spreading across his chest, his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parted on gasps and moans—and thinks he has never seen anything so perfect. This is not just desire, though that burns hot in his blood and makes his groin throb. This is Arthur showing Merlin, with every touch, every kiss, every careful stroke of his hand, that he is safe. That he is real. That he is loved beyond reason, beyond measure, beyond any doubt the Tower left in him.
Merlin: (his voice breaks on a cry) Arthur—I'm—I can't—
Arthur: (his lips against Merlin's ear) Then don't. Let go. I have you.
Merlin does. He shatters apart in Arthur's arms, crying out Arthur's name like a prayer finally answered. Arthur holds him through it, pressing kisses to his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, murmuring reassurances and ‘I love you’ between each kiss.
When Merlin finally stills, trembling and spent, Arthur gathers him close. He pulls the blanket over them both, tucking it around Merlin's shoulders. Merlin's breath is warm and uneven against Arthur's skin.
Merlin: (mumbles, eyes closing) You're real.
Arthur: (Pressing his lips to Merlin's hair) I'm real.
Merlin: And you love me.
Arthur: I love you.
Merlin: (a sleepy, contented smile curves his lips) I love you.
And Merlin falls asleep, for the first time in what feels like an eternity, with a smile on his face.
...
Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!
I don’t typically write smut, but after everything these two went through, I felt they deserved it (also, my beta kind of talked me into it 😂). Hope I've done a decent work.
I always felt bad about Tyr and Gelda. It bothered me that we never got more of Gelda after Tyr’s death in canon and that Tyr himself didn’t get justice after he was killed. So I tried to give them a little more here.
This part, along with the previous one, will be combined into a single chapter for the AO3 version. I’m still trying to come up with a title, though. Any suggestions?
Morgana takes Merlin instead of Gwen to the Dark Tower AU
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 , Part 11 , Part 12 , Part 13 , Part 14, Part 15 , Part 16 (You're here) , Part 17 , Part 18 , Part 19
Merlin: (stares at the closed door, his breath coming in short, ragged hitches)
Arthur: (turns to him, worried) Merlin?
Merlin: (suddenly stands and shoves him hard in the chest) You prat! Why aren’t you running after her?!
Arthur: (straightens, bewildered) What?
Merlin: After everything you both fought for! After defying your father and the court itself to marry for love. You're going to let it end because of a… a misunderstanding?!
Arthur: (his voice pained) A misunderstanding? Did you not hear a single word Guinevere just said? Even she understands where my heart is! Why can’t you?
Merlin: (pacing) I’ve ruined everything. Your marriage. Your life—
Arthur: (follows him) That's not true!
Merlin: It is! (Whirls to face him, stopping dead) You loved her. And she loved you. And I ruined it! (Hides his face in his hands, a sob cracking his voice)
Arthur: (holds him by the shoulders to steady him) Things just changed.
Merlin: (uncovers his face, shouting) Things don't change overnight!
Arthur: Three months is hardly considered ‘overnight’, Merlin!
Merlin: No! (Hits his own head with his fists) No, no, no, no! This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come back.
Arthur: (grabs his wrists) Merlin—
Merlin: I should have just died in that tower!
Silence.
Arthur: (voice trembling with fury) How dare you.
Merlin: Wha—
Arthur: (shakes him once, his eyes blazing) Do you have any idea what it would have done to me?! (His voice rises, raw and ragged) Do you have any concept of what was left of me when I thought you were gone?!
Merlin: (trembles) I…
Arthur: (noticing Merlin’s reaction, lowers his voice, his grip loosening but not releasing) I was a ghost. They told me you were a sorcerer, and I drowned myself in denial. But even through the betrayal, I searched. I followed every trail because I couldn’t fathom a world where you weren’t by my side. The knights had to force me to eat, to sleep, because I feared every moment wasted was a moment Morgana could be hurting you. And I was right. You came back, but you were hateful, and cunning, and you tried to kill me—
Merlin: I’m sorry—
Arthur: And I would live through all of it again. A hundred times over. Because having you hate me was still a thousand times better than a world without you in it.
Merlin: (stares, speechless)
Arthur: (takes Merlin’s face in his hands, his touch desperate) If you had died in that tower… (His voice shatters completely) There would have been nothing left of me to keep going. Nothing.
Merlin: (tears begin to fall silently)
Arthur: I love you.
Merlin: (shakes his head in denial)
Arthur: No. Listen. I love you. I am not confused. Not anymore. What I feel for you… it’s not a whim. It’s not gratitude. It’s the reason I kept fighting when all was lost. It’s the reason I risked my own kingdom to get you back. Merlin, I would burn it all to the ground if it meant keeping you safe. I love you.
Merlin: (keeps crying, shaking his head)
Arthur: Why can’t you believe me? What else do I have to do? Kneel? (Drops to his knees) I’ll kneel.
Merlin: No! (Tries to pull him up, but Arthur resists)
Arthur: (looks up, his eyes full of supplication, gripping Merlin’s hands) Ask me for anything to prove it. Anything, and I'll do it.
Merlin: I want you to stand up!
Arthur: Or… (swallows hard) is it that you don’t love me that way anymore? My failures are greater than any amends I’ve made. If that’s it… (Forces the words out, hanging his head) I’ll understand. I shouldn’t have assumed.
Merlin stops pulling, his hands going still in Arthur’s. He looks down at the king on his knees, the most powerful man in the kingdom brought to utter vulnerability for him. The last of his resistance breaks.
Merlin: (his voice a choked whisper) You… you idiot. You absolute, royal clotpole.
Arthur: (searching his face) Merlin?
Merlin: (sinks to his knees, meeting him at eye level) Of course I love you. I have always loved you. That’s why I would rather have died in that tower or drowned myself in that lake than be used to hurt you. (Pulls Arthur into a tight embrace, voice cracking) I love you so much it terrifies me. Because I watched you love Gwen, and it was beautiful, and right, and I was happy for you, truly. But I resigned myself to the fact that I would never have you for so long. And now… you’re here, telling me you love me, and I don’t know how to handle it.
I love you. Arthur realizes it’s the first time Merlin has actually said it. I love you. Three simple words, but they disarm him completely and put him back together all at once.
In matters of love, Arthur never had much of a reference. His father was not one to speak of it, though tales were told of his devotion to Arthur’s mother. Uther never spoke of her, and Arthur knew better than to ask. But his father once described to him the savage, glorious joy he felt when he conquered what is now Camelot. Arthur doesn’t remember the exact words, but he remembers the fanatical gleam in his eyes, as if it were the greatest accomplishment of his lifetime, insurmountable and unrepeatable.
Arthur feels exactly like that now.
Arthur: (pulls away just enough to cup his face, thumbs brushing away the tears) Say it again.
Merlin: (sniffles) Huh?
Arthur: That you love me.
Merlin: I love—
The king kisses his servant. It’s not gentle. It’s a seal, a claim, a confirmation.
Merlin: (breathless when they part) You didn’t let me finish.
Arthur: Sorry. Again.
Merlin: I love you—
And he kisses him again, softer this time, lingering, pouring every unsaid promise into it.
Merlin: (pulls back, flustered but smiling through his tears) Arthur!
Arthur: (grins, his forehead resting against Merlin’s) That’s how you handle it.
Merlin: You are crazy.
Arthur: You drive me crazy. You have from the very beginning.
Merlin: (chuckles wetly)
Arthur: I love you. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing it to you. If you let me.
Merlin: (after a pause) … Alright.
Arthur: (his grin widens impossibly)
Merlin: But I have one request.
Arthur: Anything.
Merlin: Let’s keep it quiet. For now. No telling anyone.
Arthur: (frowns) You want to hide? As if you’re some secret?
Merlin: Arthur, I’m still a servant and a man—
Arthur: I don’t care. I am not ashamed of you. I won’t have you feeling like you are.
Merlin: I know. You’ve made that clear. But that’s not it. You just ended things with Gwen. She may have given her blessing, but flaunting a new relationship the next day feels… wrong and cruel. And the knights will have questions I’m not ready to answer. And the nobles, the entire court… I don’t want all those eyes on us. I just… I need some time to believe this is real before the whole world weighs in.
Arthur: (looks conflicted, but sees the fear in Merlin’s eyes) How long?
Merlin: A few months.
Arthur: (sighs, a reluctant smile appearing) This is your revenge, isn’t it? Making me wait months to show you as mine.
Merlin: I waited years to have you. You can wait a season.
Arthur: (chuckles softly, pulling him close again) Gods, I love you.
Merlin: I love you too.
They stay there, eyes locked. Merlin would find it comfortable if not for the ache in his knees. He realizes they’ve been on the floor this entire time. He’s about to suggest they stand when a loud noise and the sound of stomps approaching startles them.
Arthur and Merlin pull apart instantly, just before the door bursts open. They were expecting Gwen or a servant. They don’t expect it to be Elyan at the door’s frame, his expression a storm of fury.
Merlin: Elyan?
Arthur: (sighs, knowing what’s coming)
Elyan doesn’t acknowledge Merlin. Instead, the knight strides straight to the king, grabs him by the collar, hauls him to his feet, and punches him hard across the jaw.
Merlin: (springs up) What are you doing?!
Elyan: (draws back for another blow)
Merlin: (eyes flash gold, freezing Elyan’s fist in mid-air)
Elyan: (struggles against the invisible force)
Merlin: Have you gone insane? You’re attacking your king! (thinking) Has another ghost possessed him? Is he enchanted?
Elyan: (seeing he can’t hit Arthur, turns his furious gaze on Merlin, ready to punch him too)
Arthur: (steps between them immediately) No. Whatever this is, it’s with me.
Elyan: It’s with you both.
Gwen: (rushes in, breathless) Elyan, stop! (Throws herself between her brother and the others) I told you so you would understand, not for this!
Merlin: (finally gets what’s happening) Oh.
Gwen: I’m sorry, I thought he should hear it from me first.
Elyan: Don’t apologize to them! How can you apologize to these… (doesn’t know what word to use) Traitors! I already suspected something was up. I knew something strange was going on, but I never imagined the magnitude of such a deception.
Gwen: Elyan, that’s enough! (Grips his arm) I explained to you exactly what happened. I get that you’re upset, but you’re acting as if they had an affair! It was a kiss!
Merlin doesn’t know if Gwen is omitting the second kiss out of kindness, or if Elyan’s rage cut her explanation short.
Elyan: And who says they didn’t? Do you think I’m blind? That I didn’t notice the looks. At first I didn't understand, but now I see it. That’s not the look of two people who shared a kiss. That’s the look of two lovers who know each other to their very souls!
Gwen: (scandalized) Elyan!
Arthur: (his expression hardens) Watch your tongue. I assure you, we have been innocent, all things considered.
Merlin frowns, confused at both Gwen and Arthur's reaction. As if Elyan had said a grave insult, though Merlin isn't quite catching where or what the insult is. It can’t be the “know each other” part—that’s a fact. So it must be the implication they were lovers.
Elyan: (takes a step forward in Arthur’s direction, shaking off Gwen’s hold)
Merlin: (steps in front of Arthur) I kissed him once, before the enchantment, yes. But we were never lovers.
Elyan: Really? So what were you doing on the floor just now? Chatting?
Merlin: (flushes, shame burning his cheeks)
Elyan: I knew it. And you call yourself a friend? After you messed around with your best friend's husband?
Normally Merlin would be quick to defend himself, he knows how things happened. But Elyan’s current expression and tone brings a buried memory to the surface. The false Elyan, crafted by Morgana in that isolated room, among the other illusions of his friends. So Elyan’s words now don’t just hurt; they spark a cold, inexplicable fear.
Arthur: (steps forward, putting himself squarely between them) Don't you dare talk to him like that! He has borne a weight of guilt that was never his to carry. You will not add to it.
Elyan: Don’t try to make him the victim. This was way before the enchantment. (Turns his furious gaze back to Merlin) Or will you claim you had no choice in that, too? That you’re innocent?
Elyan: (shouts, his anger fracturing into brotherly hurt) Then tell me you didn’t betray my sister! Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t mess around with her husband! Tell me!
Merlin: (shrinks in his place)
Arthur: (roars) ENOUGH! Your quarrel is with me. I’m the one who had a duty to Guinevere and failed her. Direct your anger at me.
Elyan: (turns to him) I do intend to. Arthur Pendragon, I challenge you to a duel! (Throws his gauntlet at Arthur’s feet.)
Gwen: You will do no such thing!
Arthur: (bends and picks it up) I accept.
Merlin: (recovering) No, you don’t! (Turns to Elyan) You swore loyalty to Arthur! You can’t challenge your king!
Elyan: Then I renounce it. I withdraw my loyalty.
Merlin: You can't! It's your word. You're a knight; you have honor.
Elyan: I’m also a brother. And I will defend my sister’s honor.
Gwen: I don’t need you to defend me! This is not your fight! In fact, you’re the one turning this into a fight!
Arthur: (nods) I respect that. Then I release you from my service. You are free to challenge me without breaking your oath.
Merlin and Gwen: Arthur!
Merlin: Help us stop this madness! Don’t encourage it!
Arthur: When?
Elyan: Tomorrow. At dawn.
Arthur: It’s settled.
Gwen: No! I am still your queen! I am canceling this!
Arthur: You can't. It’s the knight’s code. Once issued and accepted, it cannot be undone.
Gwen: (sternly) Elyan, you withdraw your challenge this instant.
Elyan: (gives a final, furious glance at Arthur and Merlin, then turns on his heel and strides from the room)
Gwen: Elyan! (goes after him)
Merlin: (whirls on Arthur) Stop this!
Arthur: It’s not a duel to the death, Merlin.
Merlin: I didn’t hear you clarify that at any moment!
Arthur: Elyan is just angry. Rightfully so. And he is no match for me; you know that. He’ll have his outlet, I’ll disarm him, and if he accepts defeat, I’ll reinstate him. It ends there.
Merlin: Right, because that makes this any less of a madness. He’s defending the queen’s honor from the king!
Arthur: And I am defending yours.
Merlin: What—Why my honor?
Arthur: He insulted you.
Merlin: He was harsh, yes. But I don’t recall a single insult in his words.
Arthur: He said we know each other to our very souls.
Merlin: Where’s the insult in that? It’s the truth. We do.
Arthur: (looks at him with frustration and protectiveness in his eyes) He was not talking about that kind of knowledge, Merlin. He was implying we’ve been… intimate. That we’ve shared a bed. He was painting you as a… a seducer, a home-wrecker. It was a slur against your very character.
Merlin: (voice soft) ... Oh.
Arthur: I won’t let anyone—not even a knight I respect—speak of you that way.
Merlin: And you think a duel is the answer? I asked you for one thing! To keep this quiet. To have time. How do you expect anyone not to find out after a public duel over me?
Arthur: …
Merlin: You didn’t think of that, did you?
Arthur: … No.
Merlin: (shakes his head and turns, making a move for the door)
Arthur: (catches his wrist, panic flaring) Merlin—
Merlin: Don’t touch me!
The words feel sharp and familiar. A rejection he only received during the darkest months of their lives. Arthur flinches as if struck, his hand falling back to his side, his eyes wide with a hurt that has nothing to do with the present argument.
Arthur: (desperate) I’m sorry. I’m— I’ll fix it. I'll make the reasons behind the duel secret, I’ll—
Merlin: (notices the terror in Arthur’s eyes) Whoa. Hold on. You think I’m leaving you?
Arthur: (voice barely a whisper) Aren’t you?
Merlin: No. I’m just mad. But I’m not— (Pauses, replaying his own harsh words. The realization hits him, and the anger on his face evaporates softening into heartbreaking understanding) Oh, Arthur. I’m not enchanted anymore.
Arthur: (nods stiffly, not meeting his eyes) I know.
Without another word, Merlin closes the distance and pulls Arthur into a firm, silent hug. It’s not an apology for the argument, but a reassurance: I am here. I am me. Arthur sags against him, his face buried in Merlin’s shoulder, his body still trembling slightly with the aftershock of his irrational fear, and lets the solid reality of Merlin chase away the phantom.
Merlin: (pulls back slightly, meeting his gaze) Better?
Arthur: (nods, his composure returning) Yes.
Merlin: Good. (his expression turns serious once more) I’m still mad, though. (But the stern frown on his face doesn’t reach his eyes)
Arthur: (smiles softly) I know. I’m not asking you not to be. Just… stay.
Merlin nods, complying. The duel is still a problem. The secrecy is at risk. But this trust, this choice to be furious and yet remain, to offer comfort even in the middle of a fight, is the new ground they stand on.
Time skip. The Armoury. Next Day.
The air in the armory is thick with the scent of oiled metal and tension. Merlin is cornered near a rack of polished swords by Gwaine, Percival, and Leon. He’d known this interrogation was inevitable.
Gwaine: Alright, out with it. What on earth is happening?
Merlin: (sighs, wiping his hands on a rag) Well, Arthur and Elyan are having a duel.
Percival: We know that. We want to know why. Neither of them will say a word.
Arthur’s silence is expected. But Elyan’s… that gives Merlin a faint, foolish flicker of hope. Perhaps it’s for Gwen’s sake, to spare her public humiliation. Or perhaps, against all odds, some shred of Elyan’s regard for him remains, making him hesitate to destroy Merlin’s name completely.
Leon: You don’t have to tell us if it’s sworn to secrecy. If Arthur asked for your confidence, we’d never ask you to break it. We’re just concerned. This isn’t normal.
Gwaine: Arthur’s a prat, but he’s not stupid. Challenging his own brother-in-law? One of his best knights? That’s not just reckless, that’s… personal. In a bad way.
Percival: Unless Elyan challenged him. But he’s not one for violence. If he went this far… whatever Arthur did must have cut deep.
The young warlock looks down at the rag in his hands, twisting it. The way they look at him with such trust in their eyes warms and clenches his heart at the same time. These are his friends. They stood by him even when he was enchanted. They welcomed him back without hesitation. The lie of omission burns in his throat.
He really should tell them, he owes them the truth after everything. But the memory of their hateful illusions in the Dark Tower still feels like a fresh bruise. Even when his mind still could discern they were fabrications, their words and looks hurt him deeply. He’s not sure he can bear a fraction of that, knowing it’s real.
Leon: You can talk to us, Merlin. Whatever it is, we’re listening. We won’t betray your confidence.
Merlin: (lifts his gaze, his eyes filled with conflict) That’s just it. I could confide in you. You’re my friends. But… (Takes a shaky breath) You might not want to be after I tell you.
Gwaine: What? Why? It’s not like the duel is about you.
Merlin: …
Gwaine: (eyes widening) Oh, gods. It is about you.
Leon: Merlin, did Elyan offend you? Hurt you in some way?
Merlin: What?! No—
Leon: I know he wouldn’t, but perhaps Arthur perceived it that way?
Merlin: No—I mean, he kind of insulted me, but it’s not—
Gwaine: Ah, I see. Elyan said some nonsense as a joke and Princess took it to heart. He’s been overly protective of you since you got back.
Merlin: It wasn’t like—
Percival: So Arthur challenged Elyan? That’s a bit too far.
Gwaine: After all he did for Merlin, this is what you consider too far?
Merlin: (shouts) It was Elyan who challenged Arthur!
Knights: (stare in stunned silence)
Leon: (frowning deeply) So Arthur… harmed you in some way?
Merlin: No! Arthur would never!
Gwaine: Yes, Leon, that’s even more impossible than Elyan kicking a cat.
Percival: And Merlin already established that Elyan was the one who offended him.
Merlin: I never said—!
Leon: But if Elyan challenged Arthur, it doesn’t make—
Merlin: (throws his hands up in exasperation) Will you all stop guessing and just let me speak!
The knights: (fall silent)
Merlin: (takes a steadying breath) Thank you. Now, don’t interrupt until I’m finished. I’ll be brief and direct.
And he tells them. The drunken kiss in the tavern. The second kiss when he was enchanted. How his enchanted self used those secrets to wound Gwen. How this probably provoqued the slow unraveling of her marriage. The official end of Arthur and Gwen’s relationship in the royal chambers. And Elyan’s furious challenge shortly after.
When he finishes, the silence in the armory is thick, but not hostile. Not as hostile as he’d feared at least. Percival looks shocked, visibly upset, yes, but mostly thoughtful. Gwaine has shifted subtly closer to Merlin, in a protective manner, as if expecting the others to lash out. Leon… Leon is the one struggling, his face a mask of controlled tension.
Merlin: Please. Say something.
Leon: (takes a deep, measured breath) This… explains a great deal.
Gwaine: (trying to lighten the mood) So you fancy men. No surprise there.
Percival: (blinking slowly) And apparently, Arthur fancies men too.
Gwaine: Nah. I recognize one of my own. Arthur doesn’t fancy men. He just fancies Merlin. (Chuckles nervously, draping an arm around Merlin’s shoulders) Am I right?
Merlin: Gwaine, you are not helping. (Turns to the others) That can’t really be all you have to say.
Percival: I mean… kissing a married man is wrong. Especially the king. It was really grave what you did.
Merlin: (hangs his head)
Percival: (sighs) But it’s not like you sought it out. You were drunk, and you pulled away. And you tried to make it right by putting distance between you. The second kiss doesn’t count. Nor the things you told Gwen. You weren’t yourself.
Gwaine: Exactly. Don’t flog yourself over it.
Merlin: (turns to Leon, dreadly) Leon…
Leon: (pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed) Give me a minute.
Merlin: (his heart sinks)
Gwaine: You can’t seriously be putting all the blame on him. Arthur did his part too.
Merlin: Gwaine!
Leon: (opens his eyes, his voice strained) No. You’re right. (Finally looks at Merlin, his gaze and voice stern, but his words measured) I’ve known Arthur and Gwen since we were children. And they have been walking different paths for a while now. If Arthur truly still loved her as a husband should, he wouldn’t have let two accidental kisses end their marriage. And Gwen wouldn’t have let this break them if the foundation was still solid. They’ve recovered from a betrayal once before. But they chose not to rebuild this time. That was their decision, not yours. And if Gwen, who is the aggrieved party, doesn't hold a grudge against you, I don't see why I should.
Merlin: (confused by the contradiction between Leon’s tone and his words) Thank you. That’s… comforting. In a way. But you don’t have to pretend. You can be angry with me.
Leon: I’m not angry with you, Merlin. I’m angry at the situation. This will have repercussions, and I’m not happy about that. Much less that Gwen and Elyan ended up hurt. But I am not angry with you.
Gwaine: (visibly relaxes, turns to Merlin) See? They understand.
Merlin: And you?
Gwaine: It’s really not that big of a deal.
Merlin: Don’t! Don’t you dare make it less for my sake. Be serious.
Gwaine: (sobers, his expression turning earnest) I am. Yes, you betrayed a friend. Arthur betrayed his wife. I won’t make less of that. But given the circumstances… (Sighs) I’ve known my share of nobility. Most kings have dalliances on the side and think nothing of it. Arthur isn’t perfect, but he tried to do right by everyone involved. Just like you did.
Percival: You made a mistake. It doesn’t mean we stop being your friends.
Merlin: (hopeful, but guarded) Really?
Percival: Of course. Gwaine here has had more affairs than the rest of us combined, and we still put up with him.
Gwaine: Hey!
Percival: Will you deny it? I still remember when you slept with the tavern owner’s wife. We can’t drink there anymore.
Merlin: You were banned?!
Leon: (finally seems to relax a bit, a dry chuckle escaping him) No, we just won’t risk being poisoned.
The young warlock stares, then a laugh bursts out of him despite everything. He isn’t blind; he knows they’re trying to lift the weight.
Merlin: But the tavern owner is a stranger. This is me and Arthur. Doesn’t it… I don’t know, shock you?
Gwaine: Eh… To say we’re surprised would be a lie, but to say we’re not would be too.
Leon: The relationship between you and Arthur has always been… unique.
Gwaine: Intense.
Percival: Platonic. Well, now it’s not so platonic anymore.
Merlin: And you don’t… mind?
Leon: (manages a faint, weary smile) Merlin, less than three months ago, we found out you were an illegally practicing sorcerer who’d been lying to us for years. If that didn’t change anything, why would this?
A small, disbelieving laugh escapes Merlin. It’s true. Their loyalty has been tested by far greater revelations.
Gwaine: (his voice softens) Remember what I told you? In the east tower? You were enchanted, saying every vile thing you could think of. You knew exactly where to aim to hurt.
Merlin: (looks down, ashamed) I remember.
Gwaine: And after you finished, I said I’d still be here. (Meets Merlin’s eyes, his gaze steady and sure) I meant it then. I mean it now.
The last coil of dread in Merlin’s chest begins to unwind. He has his friends. They see his mistakes, his secrets, his heart, and they choose to stay.
Merlin: (looks at each of them, his eyes shining with gratitude, then sighs, the weight of the remaining conflict settling back on his shoulders) Well… I doubt Elyan will ever forgive me. Whatever the outcome of this duel.
Leon: (puts a hand on his shoulder) I can’t speak for him. But I’ve seen how worried he was when you were captured. You were friends for years; that’s not something you simply erase. That he is hurt is understandable. But he is also a sensible man. Give him time. Let him vent. He’ll come around.
It isn’t a guarantee, just a reminder that forgiveness, like friendship, is sometimes a matter of patience and faith. And for now, in the quiet solidarity of the armory, for Merlin it is enough.
...
HI! Sorry for the delay!
Me while writing this: Great! Finally Merlin accepted Arthur's love. Everything is calming. Now the story can finally come to a closure—
Elyan: (bursts in) Arthur Pendragon, you unfaithful shit! Fight me!
Me: Oh, come on! 😠
It's not that I didn't plan for Elyan to have a reaction, but even I couldn't have foreseen it would escalate like this.
