Welcome to merthur microfic, a community dedicated to flash fiction!
šæ the basics
a new one-word prompt is posted every week
the aim of the game is to create a merthur fanwork inspired by that prompt in some way
tag @merthurmicrofic when you post your creation
NOTE: There is no deadline ā please continue to submit creations for older prompts if you want to. There's also no obligation to complete each prompt.
šæ what counts as a fill
microfics (50 words or less) and other short-form fiction
the word count is a guideline only, and you're welcome to write as much or as little as you like
if your fic is over 800 words, please use a read-more (or link to it on ao3, whatever you prefer!)
art, poetry, moodboards, podfics, web-weaving, gifsets, video edits, songs, craft projects and all other fanwork formats are also highly encouraged
šæ important rules
all fanworks must be human made, not AI generated
all fanworks must centre Merlin and Arthur as a pairing
NOTE: Fanworks are not required to include romantic or sexual content, which means you can (and are encouraged to) explore their platonic dynamic as well ā however, we ask that Merlin and Arthur are not depicted in non-merthur ships (including poly ships, as these are their own ship) unless merthur is implied as being, or wanting to be, end game.
šæ more info
in the search bar there are featured tags to help you find previous prompts and to filter submissions by type
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you can submit prompts when the ask box is open
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This blog is moderated by @aemelia, @peachesandcringe, @limbel and @bakerharrystyles šæ
Merlin heard the cursing and threats long before the prince appeared crashing through the tree line; he watched as he made one last effort to wrap his arms around a tree trunk to stop his feet carrying him forward, but it was to no avail.
Merlin lowered his flute.
āHi again.ā
āWhat the hell are you playing at, piper?ā Arthur bellowed. He looked utterly dishevelledātunic torn, leaves in his hair, and one boot clasped in his hand instead of where it belonged. Merlin winced; he hadnāt considered the possibility that Arthur might be barefoot when he began to play his music. He pushed the guilt aside for now.
āUm, it was in the contract I signed with your father? And my name is Merlin.ā
āWhat are you blathering on about? My father wouldnātā¦trade me, for your services.ā
āYeah, I knowābut he didnāt pay me. I got rid of the rats, and then he threatened to execute me because magic is technically still outlawed in Camelot.ā
Arthur looked at him in bewilderment.
āSo you kidnapped me instead? Are you actually insane?ā
Merlin shrugged and fiddled with his flute.
āIt was all in the small print.ā
Arthur turned and took one step back the way heād come, before seeming to realise it would be futile to try and run. He gave a frustrated shout, then lobbed the boot he held at Merlinās head.
āYou areāsoāgods, what were you planning to do next? Did you think this through at all?ā
āErmā¦ā
āYeah. Figures.ā
With a sigh he sank down on to the ground and began to pick bits of stick out of his cut foot.
āUm,ā Merlin said again, āmy home is just in the next clearing. I can make you a poultice? Forāā he pointed at Arthurās foot, āSorry, by the way, I didnāt thinkā¦yeah. And Iāve made a stew, if youāre hungry?ā
Arthur stared at him.
āYou are, without a doubt, the strangest person I have ever met.ā
Merlin interpreted that as yes please, and reached down to haul Arthur to his feet, pulling his arm over his shoulder to support him through the trees.
āIām definitely getting executed now, arenāt I?ā He said, common sense finally catching up.
āYes. But Iāll make sure itās painless if the stew is good.ā
For @merthurmicrofic | Prompt: Hunt | Word Count: 329
Arthur,
They tell me you're looking for me.
Your knights have crossed villages I once saved, questioned people whose names you never learned, ridden roads I walked alone. Every rumour becomes another trail. Every shadow becomes another possibility.
I almost admire the effort.
Do you remember when we hunted together?
You always rode. I followed because someone had to notice the broken branches, the bent grass, the frightened birds taking flight. You looked for prey. I looked for signs.
You never understood that difference.
You think a hunt ends when the quarry is cornered.
Mine ended the day I realized Camelot had made me into something that could never go home.
I spent years teaching myself how to disappear. Every lie I told was another footprint erased. Every smile was another false trail. Every "yes, sire" was another layer between the man you knew and the one who survived.
Do you know what's funny?
You spent years wondering how I was always there before disaster struck.
Now you'll spend years wondering why you're always one step behind.
You'll search the forests first because you remember how much I loved them. You'll search Ealdor because you'll think grief drives a man home. You'll search the taverns because Gwaine always found me there. You'll search every place that meant something.
And every place that meant something stopped being home the day I left it.
You could search every kingdom from Albion to the sea.
You could question every druid, every dragonlord, every old woman who remembers my name.
You could fill the roads with red cloaks until the earth forgets the color of grass.
You still wouldn't find me.
Because you are hunting the boy who polished your armour, argued over your neckerchief, tripped over his own feet, and smiled every time you laughed.
He died long before I ever walked away.
The man writing this letter is merely what remained.
You once asked how I, an unwashed peasant, came to write and read as well as a prince. I donāt remember what answer I gave, but I trust you know by now that snotty little brats are doomed to miserable lives full of unsolved mysteries. In respect to lessons hard learned, Iāll write the truth to you now.
The truth is that my mother taught me, and not because she had any great premonition of a future for me where such skills would be necessary. She learned herself in bits and pieces looking over her brothersā shoulders and sneaking their books away for practice, and despite the hardships of my childhood, she persisted in the notion that, had I a bit more education and a sliver of the opportunity, I could sail it on to any sort of life I desired.
Strange, isnāt it, the hopes parents have for their children and the blood, sweat, and tears that go into building them. You face expectations far loftier than the dreamlike possibility architected for me, as befitting the difference in our stations. I know this. I know how heavily theyāve weighed on you and the strength itās cost you to put them aside. Thank you for what you did that night. Whatever is to come, I will never forget that, in our darkest moment, you threw off every childhood lesson and acted on your heart alone.
Secretly I always knew you would. Oh how I love to be proven right.
In my lessons as a boy, my mother would read from a book of Greek tales. One of the fables in her book was of a dead king named Sisyphus, who was arrogant enough to trick death, and who was punished in eternity with the task to roll a boulder up a mountain. Only, every time the king approached the summit, the boulder would inevitably roll back down, forcing him to start again.
Sisyphus was doomed. He made his choices long ago, and in the end he toiled not to atone for his mortal sins, but in vain to beat the gods at their own games. ...Itās here my metaphor falls apart. I was moments from suggesting he might have prospered if he was only brave enough to change, to walk away from the fate that bound him, but Iām remembering now that he would have been flayed by winged women wielding whips if heād tried.
Lucky for us weāre not in Hell, huh? At least not yet.
Writing to you as a free man, I hope youāll forgive me if I place yet another expectation upon your worthy shoulders.
Write me back. I canāt give you an addressānot in writing, you understandābut if you fold your letter into a boat and place it in the stream, the water will know where to go.
The next time we meet, the world may see us as enemies. But even if it makes me as arrogant as a mythological king who earned himself an eternal punishment, Iām not afraid at all.
for @merthurmicrofic | prompt rat | 100 words | ao3
āDo you remember the time I tried to feed you rat stew?ā Merlin asked, rolling over in bed to gaze into Arthurās eyes.
āI remember forcing you to eat it,ā Arthur said. āIām never letting you cook for me again after that, you know.ā
āYou wonāt let me redeem myself and make you a proper meal? I know how to make a better stew now. You wouldnāt even know I didnāt put rat in it this time.ā
Arthur leaned over to close the gap between them with a kiss, the warmth of his chest pressing against Merlin. āNot a chance.ā
for @merthurmicrofic ļø±"enemy" ļø±1190 words ļø±also filling @merlinbingo square "arthur's chambers"
a special thanks to @haloud for helping put together this plot bunny
tw: off-screen attempted sexual assault
It was with no small amount of satisfaction that Arthur returned from Whitespire two days earlier than expected. The assignment to check on Camelot's northernmost outpost mid-January had been a punishment in all but name, and Arthur was happy to have it over with. All for daring to suggest during a council meeting that if Camelot's knights raided their subjects' homes searching for evidence of sorcery and found none, perhaps they could compensate the damage to property and means of livelihood. Mouths were fed with spinning wheels and yokes, after all. And when Arthur had dared argue the point instead of silencing at the first sign of his father's displeasure, well. He was shortly ordered thereafter to ride out to Whitespire, and anyone he took along would be punished as if they had directly defied the king.
But now that was past him and Arthur sighed with exhaustion as he entered his chambers, not caring that he tracked sleet inside. His cloak was soaked, his fingers numb from the winter storm that raged outside. Just short of a blizzard, but not by much.
A sharp bang made Arthur jump, and he turned to see Merlin burst into his chambers and close the door quickly behind him. Excellent, this saved Arthur the trouble of finding him. Merlin made the best fires, with the kind of warmth that filled the entire room, and if Arthur was lucky he could convince Merlin to indulge with him in a different kind of warmth as well. "Perfect timing Merlin, I'm freezingā"
Merlin startled like a frightened rabbit. He spun and pressed himself against the door, fingers splayed flat against the wood. His lips parted, but no sound came out save breathless pants.
Arthur took him in. His tunic was wrinkled, torn along the neckline, and the scrap of fabric Merlin called a neckerchief was conspicuously absent. On that pale neck Arthur saw a mark of familiar red, for he knew all too well the way Merlin's skin quickly turned pink when laved at with lips and teeth. But the most damning evidence was the way Merlin's wide eyes trembled with a fear Arthur had never seen him bear before.
His blood turned as cold as the howling winds outside.
"What happened." There was no sound save for Merlin's shallow breathing. "Merlin, what happened? Who did this?"
Still no response. Arthur's hands shook, his heart pounding as if in the midst of battle. He took two quick steps forward, and then saw Merlin's eyes squeeze shut as he tried to flatten himself against the door behind him.
Arthur went perfectly, utterly, still. "Okay, justā just come here and sit down. Please." He prayed Merlin heard it was a plea, not an order.
But then Merlin's eyes opened, and while he still said nothing, he obeyed. Arthur fought the urge to pull the chair out for Merlin, instead holding himself with a white-knuckled restraint to remain in place. Merlin folded his arms over his chest, and Arthur's chest ached to see how he was trembling. "Didn'tā didn't think you were back yet," Merlin whispered.
"Rode through the night to beat the storm." Arthur was desperate to keep him talking, for some hint of direction. "Merlin, Iā"
Now it was his turn to close his eyes, shuddering. He could no more calm himself than could a dog once it caught the scent of its hunt. "Youā you don't have to say anything, alright? I'llā I'll go deal with this." He would have his answers, one way or another. He would turn the castle upside down until he learned who hadā who had laid their handsā who had violatedā
It didn't matter. Arthur would solve it. And then he would either cast them out for the storm to take them, or he would throw down his gauntlet and duel as was his right. It was fortunate he hadn't even removed his armor and sword yet, so this could be dealt with all the quicker.
But when he took a step towards the door Merlin lunged at him, grabbing onto his arm. "Arthur, no, stop, you can'tā"
"Can't?" Arthur sputtered incredulously. "I bloody well can."
Merlin shook his head frantically. "You need to listen, you don't understandā"
"I don't need to understand," Arthur seethed. "I've seen enough. I don't care what you have to tell me or what you've done to think this is justified, I am the Prince, and there is no one in this castle who will not answer to meā"
Arthur's mouth slammed shut. He realized, at the same time Merlin's eyes dropped down, that there was only one person whose authority superseded Arthur's. A person who would be bold enough to allow or even encourage the abuse of a servant, even when Camelot law prohibited it. A person who could breathe new law for any infraction that displeased him.
He was so foolish to not foresee this. So prideful to think his father's attention would be focused on Arthur's growing confidence and proclivity to challenge, and not the man that had grown steadily closer to his side. Had dumbly relied on Uther's practice of turning a blind eye to whomever Arthur chose to bed as long as it resulted in no bastards or undue favor. Had lied to himself, calling it mutual convenient pleasure, and nothing more.
Arthur had tasted that lie until he could swallow it no longer, and had resolved to do something about it before he was unexpectedly dispatched to Whitespire. And here lay the price of his folly.
He let out a slow, even breath. "Alright. Alright, Merlin. Just stay here, and catch your breath. I'll be back."
"Noā"
"He will want to know I've returned," Arthur said, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage. He slowly put his hand over Merlin's where it clutched at his arm, and squeezed gently when he saw Merlin did not pull away. "I will inform him that I've completed the assignment without incident. That is all. Go ahead and make a fire, and I'll return with some food and water." He pried Merlin's fingers from his arm, soft, holding onto them like he would to help a lady off of her horse. "Bar the door behind me. When I return, I'll give three knocks, so you'll know it's me."
Arthur waited for further protest, but after a strained pause Merlin nodded. His trembling had subsided. Arthur dropped his hand. And then, finding he regretted it, leaned in to press his lips to Merlin's forehead, cradling the back of his head as he did so.
He had never touched Merlin like this outside the cover of arousal, but found it a sweet taste he immediately craved. Arthur pulled back regretfully. "I'll be back," he echoed, hoping Merlin could hear the promise in his words.
Then he turned away before he could grow any more heartsick. His armor was still cold from the winter storm, sword still dutifully sheathed by his side.
Uther Pendragon did not know what it meant to be his son's enemy, but in the coming months, he would learn.
For @merthurmicrofic | Prompt: Kneel | Word Count: 1334
Arthur hated losing.
This was a truth as old as Camelot itself, a truth woven into the stone of the castle and the very shape of his smile. Arthur lost badly, with wounded dignity and endless complaints. He accused people of cheating. He demanded rematches. He insisted that the rules had somehow changed halfway through the game.
Which was why Merlin treasured every victory like a dragon hoarding gold.
The wager had begun over breakfast.
It had started, as most of Camelot's disasters did, with Arthur being unbearably smug.
"You couldn't beat me if your life depended on it," Arthur said.
Merlin looked up from his porridge.
"I beat you all the time," Merlin replied.
"You beat me once," Arthur argued.
"Three times," Merlin corrected.
"Once, Arthur insisted.
"Three," Merlin said.
"One," Arthur shot back.
"Gaius counted," Merlin said.
"Gaius is old," Arthur replied.
"Gwaine counted," Merlin added.
"Gwaine can't count," Arthur said.
And somehow, because neither of them possessed even the smallest instinct for self-preservation, this had spiralled into a competition involving archery, sword drills, horse racing, strategy games, and a final deciding round of dice that attracted half the knights and most of the servants as spectators.
The terms were simple:
If Arthur won, Merlin would do anything he asked.
If Merlin won, Arthur would do anything he asked.
The certainty in Arthur's face had been almost painful to witness. Merlin had nearly felt bad for him.
Hours later, standing in the middle of the courtyard surrounded by cheering knights, Merlin was trying extremely hard not to grin. Arthur was trying extremely hard not to look as though his entire worldview had collapsed.
"You cheated," Arthur accused.
"I didn't," Merlin said.
"You definitely cheated," Arthur said.
"I definitely didn't," Merlin replied.
Arthur pointed accusingly at the dice as though they had personally betrayed him.
"They're crooked," Arthur declared.
Leon picked them up.
"They're normal," Leon said.
Arthur pointed at Merlin.
"He's crooked," Arthur said.
"Thank you," Merlin said.
"That wasn't a compliment," Arthur replied.
The knights were laughing now.
Even Lance.
Even Percival.
Even Elyan, who was usually wise enough to stay out of arguments involving Arthur's pride.
Arthur crossed his arms. The posture was meant to look kingly. Unfortunately, it mostly looked like a sulking child refusing vegetables.
"Fine," he said.
Merlin brightened immediately. "Fine?"
"Fine," Arthur repeated. The word sounded physically painful.
"You won," Arthur admitted.
"I did," Merlin agreed.
Arthur glared. Merlin smiled wider. Arthur glared harder. Merlin somehow smiled even wider.
The courtyard collectively leaned closer.
Everyone wanted to know what Merlin would ask for.
Arthur was expecting something dreadful.
Perhaps weeks of chores. Maybe public humiliation. Possibly an entire speech about how wonderful Merlin was.
The possibilities were endless and horrifying.
Merlin pretended to think. He tapped his chin. He paced in a slow circle around Arthur. Arthur narrowed his eyes.
The knights were practically vibrating with anticipation.
Finally, Merlin stopped.
"Oh," Merlin said.
His face lit up.
The expression alone made Arthur suspicious.
"Oh no," Arthur said.
"Oh yes," Merlin replied.
"No," Arthur said.
Merlin's grin became absolutely unbearable.
"Arthur"
"Merlin"
"I know what I want," Merlin said.
Arthur sighed the sigh of a man approaching his own execution.
"What?" Arthur asked.
Merlin folded his arms.
Then, very carefully, very deliberately, he said:
"Kneel"
The courtyard exploded. Gwaine nearly fell over. Elyan doubled over laughing. Several servants made noises that suggested they might never recover.
Arthur stared. Merlin stared back.
The silence stretched.
"Kneel," Merlin ordered.
Arthur looked genuinely offended.
"I am the king," Arthur said.
"You're the loser," Merlin replied.
More laughter.
Arthur looked ready to outlaw joy itself.
"You cannot be serious," Arthur said.
"I am entirely serious," Merlin answered.
Arthur looked around desperately for support. He found none. Traitors. Every single one of them. Leon was visibly trying not to smile. Lance was failing. Even Gwen had appeared on a balcony and was covering her mouth with one hand.
Arthur looked back at Merlin. Merlin was standing there with sunlight caught in his dark hair, eyes bright with triumph, trying so hard to look authoritative and failing because there was laughter dancing at the corners of his mouth.
Arthur felt something in his chest soften. It happened often around Merlin. Far too often.
The thing was, Merlin wasn't asking for power. Everyone else might have. Many people would have used a victory like this to make a point. To prove something. To embarrass a king.
But Merlin looked delighted in exactly the way he had when they were younger, when they were both idiots and Arthur was still learning that the strange servant who followed him everywhere had somehow become the centre of his world.
Merlin simply wanted to win. Wanted proof that he had. Wanted this story. Wanted to spend the next decade reminding Arthur about it. Arthur could already hear it.
Remember that time I made the king kneel?
Remember that time everyone saw?
Remember that time you looked so miserable?
A lifetime of torment. Arthur was doomed. And somehow, looking at Merlin's face, he found that he didn't particularly mind. Because Merlin was laughing. Because he was happy. Because that expression was worth more than Arthur's dignity had ever been.
The realization settled over him with surprising ease.
There were very few things Arthur would not give Merlin: his loyalty, his trust, his life, his kingdom, if it came to it.
A bruised ego was hardly worth mentioning.
The courtyard had gone quiet again.
Everyone was waiting.
Arthur looked at Merlin.
Merlin lifted one eyebrow.
Arthur sighed dramatically.
Then he dropped to one knee. The reaction was immediate.
Cheers erupted from every corner of the courtyard. Someone actually whooped. Gwaine was definitely crying from laughter.
Arthur ignored them all.
Because Merlin had suddenly gone still. The grin remained. But something softer had slipped underneath it.
Arthur looked up.
And there it was.
The moment he always found himself chasing.
Merlin's surprise.
Merlin never expected things from him. Not really. Even now. Even after all these years. Even after countless battles and promises and impossible acts of faith. Some part of Merlin always seemed startled whenever Arthur chose him. Whenever Arthur stepped willingly toward him. Whenever Arthur gave him something without being forced.
Arthur looked at him from where he knelt.
The position should have felt ridiculous. Instead, it felt oddly natural. Because it was Merlin. Because if Merlin asked, Arthur would always answer.
Not because of the wager. Not because of the crowd. Not because he was trapped.
Simply because it was Merlin.
The devotion sat openly in Arthur's eyes, unhidden and unashamed.
And Merlin saw it. Arthur knew he saw it.
The laughter around them faded. Not literally. The knights were still making enough noise to wake dragons. But suddenly the world felt smaller.
Merlin swallowed. For one brief second, he looked completely undone.
As though Arthur had somehow turned the joke around. As though the victory had become something else entirely.
Arthur smiled, a small smile. Soft around the edges.
Merlin's expression immediately became suspicious.
"What?" Merlin asked.
Arthur's smile widened.
"What, what?" Arthur asked.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Merlin asked.
"Like what?" Arthur replied.
"That," Merlin said.
Arthur considered.
Then, with absolute sincerity, said:
"You won."
Merlin's ears turned red.
"Oh, shut up," Merlin muttered.
Arthur laughed.
The sound was warm and bright and impossible to regret. And when Merlin finally offered him a hand to help him up, Arthur took it immediately. As though there had never been any question. As though there never would be.
The courtyard remembered the day as the day Merlin made the king kneel.
Arthur remembered it differently. Arthur remembered Merlin's triumphant smile. The way the sunlight caught in his hair. The startled softness that appeared when Arthur willingly gave him what he wanted. And most of all, Arthur remembered looking up from one knee and finding that the easiest thing in the world was loving him.
For the @merthurmicrofic prompt: enemy , word count: 884
āMerlin! Today is the day that you will weep in despair! For I, Gwaine the great! Shall beat your high score on pac man!ā Gwaine made his declaration loud enough for the whole arcade to hear.
āSure Gwaine, eventho you havenāt reached half of my score yet.ā Merlin laughed at the pouting Gwaine while Lance rolled his eyes.
āPlease children, behave in public.ā
āOk daddy~ā Gwaine earned a smack to the head for that.
The arcade was their space but most importantly where Merlin felt the most badass. He could easily beat everyone in most games. He had made a name for himself as āEmrysā. The name was displayed as top one on most of the machines and Merlin did all he could to keep it that way.
Every Friday the trio would visit the Arcade and have the time of their lives, Gwaine would declare his victory will take place on that day and Merlin proves him wrong while Lance tries to impress the cute girl that works there by his racing skills.
Among all the games, Pac man was Merlinās favorite. His score was way higher than the second place and it almost seemed impossible to reach. He prided himself the most on it. Every Friday he checked to see his name on the top of the leaderboard.
Although this Friday, the prideful smirk was wiped away.
āWHAT?!ā
Gwaine peeked through from behind Merlin and whistled at the sight he saw.
āDamn mate, never thought Iād see the day. He really gave you a run for your moneyā
Merlin glared at the display. Up there, where his name should have been, was a new player and a new score.
Futureking
āWhat kinda lazy ass username even is that.āIt didnāt matter. It was time for Merlin to reclaim his throne.
After God knows how many hours Merlin ended up banging his head on the machine.
āYou do realize youād have to pay if you damage it Merlin.ā Lanceās exhausted voice was enough to stop Merlin. He looked back to see Lance sitting backwards on one of the motorcycles patiently while Gwaine had rested his head on his shoulder, drooling all over his sleeve.
āShit. How long has it been?ā
āIm pretty sure theyāll kick us out in a few minutes if we donāt leave right now.ā
With one defeated look at the screen Merlin left the Arcade for next Friday. He told himself that next week he would be there earlier and would play harder. No matter how great futureking is, Emrys is greater.
Merlin had anticipated his battle on Friday all week. He had lunch while watching speedruns, he had dinner while there were videos about pac man in the background. He lived and breathed pac man to the point that Lance had messaged him to get his ass out and touch grass. By Friday, Merlin had memorized the whole history behind pac man and he was ready. Ā He was gonna get there early. Gwaine and Lance were going to join him later due to having a life and he had planned to show them his victory by the time they arrived.
His enemy futureking will no longer be on top. Merlin was going to overthrow him once and for all.
All the firing ambition was gone when he saw what he had feared the most.
Out of commission
The machine was covered with a purple blanket and a sign over it to tell players that the machine will not be working for a while.
ā-but you donāt know when the machine will be fixed?ā The posh sounding voice caught Merlinās attention. He noticed two other people standing next to the machine. He recognized one as the girl lance had a crush on.
āNo sir my boss only informed me that the machine will not be fixed anytime soon.ā The guy she was talking to was abit taller but not taller than Merlin. The colorful lights of the arcade reflected on his blond hair and Merlin was so glad Gwaine wasnāt there to tease him for all the oogling.
āDo you remember the top score at least? Or who it belonged to?ā The girl was clearly getting impatient with him.
āMemorizing high scores arenāt in our job obligations, sir.ā And with that, she left the guy.
And at that moment the guy caught Merlin who was definitely not staring.
āUh,Hi! Hello! I see you are also disappointed by the machine not working?ā
Smooth Merlin ,very smooth
The blond sighted and nodded. āI just needed to see if my score was still on top. Guess I wonāt know if Emrys managed to beat me or not.ā
That made all the hearts he was imagining around the blond disappear.
āIāve seen that Emyrsās score on top a few times he is really skilled.ā Merlin unashamedly promoted himself.
The blond grinned, Merlin had to drag his eyes away from the crooked yet endearing grin he was faced with.
āHe is skilled, but not as good as me. Beat his ass last week.ā
ā¦endearing smile my ass!
āSorry, what was your username again?ā
āoh, itās futureking.ā The stranger said with a shrug.
Not fair, totally not fair. Merlin wanted to fill a complaint against whatever force that decided his enemy should be hot and skilled.
Every once in a blue moon I write an actual micro and here is one now lol. Hope you enjoy this I decided to finish editing at about 2am my time because even though I have ME/CFS and am exhuasted I'm not sleep tired so I am awake against my will so here have this <3
For @merthurmicrofic Enemy
When Arthur saw Merlin's eyes fade from gold to his familiar hue of blue, he will admit he was left in shock.
To see the man he loved, his Merlin's magic charge forward through the bindings, cutting down the bandits that threatened to take his and the knights of the round table's lives.
He never knew magic could be so protective.
As Arthur looked towards his knights afterwards as he carefully walked forward to Merlin, he lay down his sword.
"Merlin, is not our enemy," he stated clearly to his knights, and murmurs of agreement echoed through the woods.
"Merlin, are you alright?" he asked his dazed friend gently so not to scare him.
With a light shaking of his head, the younger man collapsed in exhaustion, but Arthur reached forward just in time to stop him from hitting the hard ground.
"You're safe Merlin, I promise," he said as he cradled the man softly.
"Just rest now, everything is going to be alright," he whispered, and with a flutter of the man's once again blue eyes he went limp in Arthur's hold sleep taking over.
As he sat on the ground holding his dear friend, his most precious person whom he loved so deeply, he was confident in one thing.
Itās just typical, Merlin thinks, that he has yet to make a single friend but has already made an enemy ā and a powerful one at that. The Kingās son. The Prince of Camelot. How excellent.
The cold is seeping into his legs, his thin breeches leaving him ill-equipped for a night in the cells. His throat has been dry for a while, and he doesnāt know if he will get any water, or any food. Camelot, from what he has seen, does not seem to be the kind of kingdom where prisoners are treated with mercy.
Things could be worse, though. He has spent all of his previous nights sleeping on the floor, after all, and after the burning he witnessed he understands deeply exactly how dire the situation could be. The plan his mother had concocted out of desperate fear, the notion that he would be sent away for safe keeping, seems laughably ironic now.
There is a soft thudding, the sound of footsteps echoing through the cavernous dungeons. A guard, Merlin assumes, possibly with some water, or food, hopefully both.
āItās all right,ā someone says. āI am in no need of assistance. You may leave your posts.ā
Oh shit, Merlin thinks, recognising the haughty voice of Prince Arthur, despite the lack of mockery in his tone. He really, really does not want to get beaten up, but he braces himself for violence anyway, standing up and holding his arms up in front of his chest, fists clenched.
Prince Arthur frowns when he turns the corner and sees Merlin. āWhat are you doing?ā
āDefending myself,ā Merlin replies, shoring up his stance.
āDefending yourself,ā the prince repeats, as if itās the silliest thing heās ever heard. āOf course. From what, exactly?ā
Merlin looks him up and down. āFrom you, obviously.ā
āFrom me? What did you think, that I would fight a man being kept in a cell?ā
Merlin does not relax his stance. The prince sighs. āGod above. Look, Merlin, was it?ā Merlin nods. āI was coming by to let you out.ā
Merlinās jaw drops, and his arms fall down to his sides, useless. āYou wereā what?ā
āI spoke with Gaius. He assured me that what happened earlier will never happen again and that you are generally an intelligent and reasonable sort of lad, who will have learned his lesson by now.ā His eyes narrow. āThis sort of behaviour does rather contradict his point.ā
āIāve learned my lesson!ā Merlin agrees, nodding repeatedly, a little manically. āDefinitely, absolutely, will not happen again.ā Prince Arthur looks at him, expectant, and Merlin realises his error. āUm, Sire,ā he adds, smiling as brightly as he possibly can.
The prince looks up, exhaling sharply. What he is looking for, Merlin does not know. Maybe the aforementioned God Above, though Merlin is quite sure that no Gods, of the old religion or the new, exist in a place such as the one they are occupying.
āAll right,ā the prince says, producing a key. āIām going to let you out now, but you must go straight to Gaiusā chambers. And you must not tell anyone of this.ā
āOf course not, my lord. I know how to keep a secret,ā he promises.
Prince Arthur pauses. He looks up, right at Merlin, as though he is looking through him, as though he can see right into his mind and pry all of his secrets out of him.
Merlin grins, trying to appear as non-threatening and guileless as he possibly can. āNot that I have any to keep,ā he says. āJust, you know. Hypothetically.ā
āRight,ā the prince says, sounding as though he means the opposite. āWell this is not hypothetical. No one can know that I freed you.ā
āWhy is that?ā Merlin asks, unable to stop himself.
āBecause if anyone finds out I let you out, they will expect the same treatment, and then the whole kingdom will descend into lawlessness.ā
āAhh, of course. Secrecy sounds very sensible, if that is the alternative,ā Merlin says. Prince Arthur smiles, and is transformed by it. His whole face seems to soften, and all of a sudden Merlin realises that they are of an age, that the prince canāt be much older than he is. And heās gorgeous. Undeniably, obviously, startlingly gorgeous. Oh, Merlin thinks. Oh no.
The grating sound of metal upon metal disturbs his train of thought before it can become any more wildly inappropriate. āGo,ā the prince urges, voice soft, low, āand do not end up here again.ā He steps backwards as the door opens, and then turns, walking towards the stairs that will lead him out of the dungeon.
āIāll try,ā Merlin calls out, taking a deep breath of fresh (well, fresher) air.
āTry very hard,ā Prince Arthur calls back. Merlin grins. Believe me, he thinks, I will.
@merthurmicrofic | prompt: shatter | word count: 96
Arthur had done his best to be a good son. He'd done what he was told, always. He'd gone to the schools his father chose, he'd gotten the grades his father expected, played the sports he'd been instructed to play. His father chose his University, chose his degree, chose his companions, chose his career, chose his dreams, chose his girlfriends.
Which turned out to be an awful shame, because the first time Arthur saw Merlin, the very specific future his father had chosen for him shattered into a million tiny pieces.
Modern AU | hurt comfort | romcom with hereditary trauma
ā Turn round, please. Right, now the other side.
ā I think everythingās fine, Arthur. Why are you staring at me like that?
ā The tie.
ā What about it? The colour works.
ā For Godās sake, Merlin, canāt you see? Itās tied crooked, the knotās too bulky, and the ends are uneven. Here, let me do it.
ā I think youāre getting yourself too worked up over some family dinner.
ā It is not some dinner. Iām introducing you to my family. I want you to look immaculate, and I want everyone to see how stunning you are.
ā Well, theyāre not blind. Iāll smile mysteriously and flutter my eyelashes at everyone. No one will even notice what sort of knot Iāve got.
ā You always have to turn everything into a joke. This isnāt a nice Sunday lunch at your mumās. This is an official Pendragon reception. Thereāll be a whole crowd of important people there, half of whom I barely know myself: my fatherās business partners, family friends, Morganaās old university crowd, distant relatives ā in short, a room full of gossips who, every time they hear your name afterwards, will remember you as the scruffy man with the badly tied tie. And where are your cufflinks?
ā In my breast pocket.
ā What are they doing there?
ā Waiting for you to help me put them on. (smiles)
ā Merlin!
ā Arthur! I think youāre making far too much fuss over nothing.
ā And youāre taking this far too lightly!
ā Iām not. Iām trying with all my might not to panic. Iām the one who should be nervous about spending the evening in a crowd of strangers. Wait, are you losing your mind because youāre embarrassed by me?
ā No. Iām sorry if I made you think that. Itās not you. Youāre wonderful.
ā Then what is it?
ā Nothing. I just want you to fit in.
ā Arthur. (sighs) We both know Iām not likely to fit in. Ever. I only agreed because it matters to you, and because Iām curious. Itās like stepping into a TV series. Or a game.
ā Damn it, could you be serious for once? This isnāt a bloody game.
ā Oh. Are you that tense? (puts his arms round his shoulders) Whatās really going on?
ā Nothing.
ā Arthur? (looks into his eyes)
ā Itās me. All right? (pulls away) Iām the black sheep of the family.
ā What rubbish is that?
ā No. Thatās what they all think. Do you understand? All of them.
ā Why would they?
ā Because not only did I fail to carry on the family business and marry some heiress from an old family with a dowry and connections, I went to work for... the other side, and I very obviously make no secret of my preferences. On top of that, I choose friends and partners who are completely unsuitable from my fatherās point of view. I am the greatest disappointment of his life.
ā Arthurā¦
ā In his eyes, Iām a failed project. An asset he invested a hell of a lot in, only for it to turn out loss-making.
ā Arthur.
ā The prodigal son my father tolerates to preserve the image of a family man.
ā Arthur! Stop it! Stop tearing yourself to shreds. You donāt actually think that about yourself, do you?
ā ...No, but... everyone there does. Everyone, from my father down to some random guest invited at the last minute as a replacement.
ā Well, sod them. Who cares what they think? Would you rather be living the life they planned out for you instead of the one you have? Do you regret your choices?
ā No. Iād rather work as a pro bono lawyer for some NGO than defend those tycoons from justice, cover up their shady dealings, and tell them how to get away with it.
ā Exactly. Youāre a man of honour. Youāre the man who drags villains into the light and pins them down. Youāre not some conformist corporate rat. Youāre a noble hero.
ā Yes. Of course I am.
ā Iām serious. To me, youāre like a knight.
ā Stop mocking me.
ā Iām not. Who saved my deposit from the claws of a greedy landlord? Who helped me avoid a burst appendix? And rescued my favourite cap from the merciless talons of a flock of pigeons? Who found the perfect Christmas present for my grumpy old uncle, so that, for the first time in history, he shut up and didnāt ruin everyoneās holiday with his complaining? Who gets up at an ungodly hour every morning to run his ten kilometres? Even in rain and snow! Thatās worthy of a heroic ballad.
ā Yes, an enviable listā¦
ā Shove the sarcasm. Thatās what it is to me! Not to mention my mum, who clearly thinks youāre the better version of a son!
ā I know that in your eyes I probably look patheticā¦
ā Did you hear a single thing I just said? You are not pathetic! Youāre strong, and youāre worthy of respect and love.
ā I know I should have grown up ages ago and stopped looking for my fatherās approval. But I donāt... I donāt always manage it.
ā God, Arthur. Relationships with parents are hardly smooth sailing for anyone. Besides, I think youāre making it all sound much worse than it is, and it wonāt be that dreadful. But if it does become unbearable, just say the word and weāll leave straight away.
ā We canāt. Itās a public event. Thereās protocol. If you intend to leave early, you have to give notice in advance.
ā Now that is proper bollocks, in my opinion. Weāve got the perfect excuse. Iām an outsider in this whole set-up. I can look all innocent and say I didnāt know the rules.
ā And make me look like an irresponsible idiot who couldnāt even be bothered to warn you.
ā Fine, Iāll think of something anyway. Do you know why you take a mage into your party in video games?
ā Merlinā¦
ā No, seriously, answer me. What do you think theyāre for?
ā (rubs the bridge of his nose) To fight other mages? Lift curses?
ā Yes, but none of that matters. A mageās job is to cover the partyās retreat. And I am a first-rate mage and a man of my word. If Iāve promised to get you out, then I will. Iāll come up with something: set off the fire alarm, get some poor sod drunk, pretend Iām having an appendicitis attackā¦
ā You donāt have an appendix any more. (smirks)
ā They donāt know that! Anyway, I think you need to reframe it and look at this event not as a boring society evening, but as a quest: you are my knight, I am your mage. Mission objective: survive and return unharmed.
ā And not scandalise me any more than I already am.
ā Well... weāll see how it goes. But if we do have to make a run for it, Iām fairly sure ābadly tied tieā wonāt be the headline.
@merthurmicrofic {} prompt: Bound {} words: 500 on the dot {} fuck it I'm having a hard time writing, yuri beams your yaoi {} related to this post and this post
"This is just-unacceptable. I'm sorry," Merlin shook her head in disgust as she parsed through the vials decorating Aurora's vanity.
"Unacceptable?" The princess snorted, tilting her head back to watch the woman flitter about, forgetting her dinner as she elected to view her maidservant from upsidedown.
"No wonder your hair looks like straw," Merlin turned up her nose.
Aurora arched a brow, "My hair is fine."
"Straw."
"You're one to talk," Aurora snipped, running a hand through her hair. It was on the thinner side, she'll admit that, but far from straw. Thank you. Besides, she didn't have time to worry all that much about her hair.
"What's wrong with my hair?!" Merlin turned quickly, her hands flying to her scarf, pulling the red fabric away.
Aurora had only seen Merlin's uncovered hair from a distance when the girl washed it away from everyone. She was rather modest, keeping it bound in braids that remained covered by her scarf.
Aurora turned in her chair-an expression one could describe as awestruck stealing her features as Merlin brushed her fingers through the long waves of her silky, dark hair.
"Seriously what's wrong with it?" Merlin urged.
"Wha-I just-nothing? Your hair is fine, goodness Merlin I didn't know you were so..." Aurora paused. An impressive pout had formed on her maidservant's lips.
"Not all of us can afford to be luxuriously adorned," Merlin sniffed, beginning to gather her hair back. She didn't bother tucking it all away, tying her scarf around her head once more, hair cascading down her back.
"What are you doing?" Aurora straightened herself.
Merlin furrowed her brow in confusion, "I'm going to go fetch the water for your bath?"
"Like that?!" Aurora gestured to Merlin's loose locks.
Merlin placed her hands indignantly on her hips, "You parade around with you hair blowing in the wind all the live long day, you have no room to judge me!"
"That's different!"
"How?!" Merlin gave her foot a little stamp.
"It just is!"
"You're ridiculous!" Merlin clicked her tongue, tugging at her scarf once more. She gathered her hair into a proper updo, tucking it all away from devious, prying eyes Aurora would not give the satisfaction to.
"Pleased? My lady?" Merlin huffed.
"Yes," Aurora settled into her chair. Merlin just glared at her.
"It's beautiful, by the way."
"Huh?"
"Your hair," Aurora muttered, averting her gaze, "...shouldn't let just anyone see it."
Merlin didn't say anything for a long minute, slowly backing towards the door.
She opened it, turning to Aurora for a second "...your hair doesn't look like straw." She paused for a moment more, tucking herself partially behind the thick wood, "It looks like gold in the light...its quite pretty. In the wind. When you're riding."
With that the door closes. Aurora stared at the wood for a long time. She knew Merlin would be back, and that mentally willing the woman to return faster was fruitless. Still.
A ride tomorrow sounded nice, and she needed to tell her.
"There are so many vampire chasers," Merlin muttered, after a lengthy, awkward pause.
"Vampire chasers?"
"You know, people fetishising vampires."
"They do that?" Arthur coughed, as though he had never imagined Merlin's canines against his neck. But he'd only ever done that to Merlin, not other vampires, so it wasn't a fetish, just mental illness, probably.
Arthur's past means falling for this idiot is a particularly stupid idea. But going for drinks wouldn't hurt, surely.
a fill for @merthurmicrofic prompt 'blood' and my merlin bingo T5 "I'm not afraid of you". because yeah, why not have dom trans masc vampire merlin/sub ex vampire hunter arthur porn.
Hope you enjoy this story I wrote! Also.... It's my birthday tmr I'm turning 20 and comments would be the most wonderful birthday present :)
Merlin was deep in working on his magically enhanced potions for the sickness that had swept through the kingdom the middle of winter.
It had been over three weeks since the first patient had shown up in one of the outer villages, and a week later it had swept into the Camelot citadel.
It was a brutal illness, that ravaged people's bodies, causing fever, nausea, chills, aches, delirium and more.
Thankfully in working with the druids the past few years since the magic repeal, they had been able to learn a lot about their treatments and cures for illnesses enhance by magic, and plants with magical properties.
So as court sorcerer and prince consort Merlin had taken it upon himself to spend every waking moment working on the treatments, and administering them to sick patients.
Thankfully they had taken a turn last week, and with all the healers working through out the kingdom reporting back that most folks had been on a steady road to recovery, with very few casualties.
Each person lost would be honoured and remembered, but Merlin was thankful that they were few and far between, that was why he worked as hard as he did, it was his duty as Emrys and Prince to use his magic to protect his people.
"Hello cariad, how you doing? You've been going nonstop the last few weeks, with this epidemic making it's way through the kingdom," said Arthur, as he came into Merlin's workshop.
"Oh hi love, I'm just working on this latest batch of treatments for this strain of the disease, some of the healers came by yesterday to take a batch out, but we're running low I think so I needed to make more," he said not looking up from grinding up the mixture, preparing to soon pour them into their doses.
"You should really take a break, you know the apprentices can take over for you," he said leaning on the table next to him.
"I can't I have to get these done, besides I can do more, I'm Emrys remember most the powerful sorcerer to live, I've got this all handled," he grunted.
"Even the most powerful sorcerer's need a break my love," said Arthur pressing a kiss to his forehead, Merlin smiled dopily at his husband who as he leaned back looked at him with concern.
He felt him gently grab his hand, and place another on his head.
"What are you doing?" he grumbled confused.
"Merlin, you're burning up, and your heart is racing. Alright that's it, you are going to leave this be, and you're coming to our chambers now," Arthur stated leaving no room for argument.
"B-but I need to, please I have things to do," he argued, but swayed as Arthur tugged him away from the table gently.
Arthur saw his movement and quickly grabbed hold of him.
"I don't think it's just you over doing it, Merlin, you've been around sick patients again haven't you? I thought you were passing that work off to the other healers, oh love come on let's get you to bed," ordered Arthur, scooping Merlin up into his arms.
Merlin grumbled softly about over protective prats, but let Arthur take him upstairs to their chambers.
Placing him down on a chair, he watched as his husband went and gathered him some fresh sleep clothes.
"It's not even that late," he whined, but Arthur ignored him, gently reaching down to removed his boots, and outer jacket from his body that he was now realizing was terribly achy, and exhausted.
"Cariad, I'm worried that you've caught the illness, please just let me take care of you, I'll send for one of the healers in the morning, ah no arguing, you've seen first hand how terrible this illness is, so you must allow me to care for you," Arthur said firmly, as he helped Merlin into his night clothes.
"Fine, Fine but don't send for Gaius, and you shouldn't be near me, I don't wanna make you sick," Merlin muttered as Arthur led him to the bed laying him down gently.
"Love, I already got it don't you recall near the start of the epidemic, you used an intense amount of magic to heal me quickly even though I said not to, and then you passed out for two days," Arthur said sternly, as he pulled the covers over him, smoothly his hair out of his face, yet Merlin's mind was muddled he'd forgotten that had occurred.
"Oh, I- right of course," he replied with a yawn.
"Just get some rest, cariad," Arthur said kissing his brow softly, and not a few moments later Merlin felt the lure of sleep pull him away.
----------------------------------------
"Merlin, hang on, just try to breathe, it's okay," said a familiar voice, Merlin looked through fuzzy vision catching sight of Arthur leaning over him tending to his brow with a damp cloth.
"W'as happ'n?" he slurred.
"Hush, save your voice, here you need to take some medicine do you think you can manage or do you need a moment?" asked his prince? Why was he caring for him so kindlyā¦
"Merls?"
"Medicine why?" he muttered softly.
"You're sick, love, just trust me, you're going to be fine, we have the best healers in the kingdom looking after you remember?"
Merlin nodded confused, and a few moments later he felt a hand beneath his head holding him up as a small bottle was placed to his lips to drink.
It tasted vaguely of peppermint, to his surprise not like Gaius's usual concoctions.
"There, you go, it's okay, you're alright," he said with such warmth Merlin didn't understand.
"Go back to sleep my Merlin, rest," Arthur said once more, leaving a confusion in the warlock's muddled mind once more as he drifted off to sleep.
----------------------------------------
Heat.
Hot.
Incessant.
Burning.
Heat.
That was all he felt.
Was he dying?
Was this what the pyre felt like?
Had he been caughtā¦
---------------------------------āāāā
"Stoke the fire, you don't want it to go out," a voice ordered.
No no it was hot too hot.
Somebody help please, he was dying, he had to get away from the heat, from the fire.
Where was Arthur?
Wouldn't he help him?
Did he light the fire beneath him?
Heā¦ Heā¦ He needed help.
"He-elp, ple'se," he croaked the heat growing ever more intense, he heard an upset voice order silence, and that was what came upon him then, dragging him back under.
-----------------------------------āā-
So, so, hot, terribly hot.
The voices, the anger, they know!
He had to escape, he had to get out!
Merlin, was not going to die today, he was going to live.
He placed his feet on the hard stone floor, confusion flooding his body as he walked over to another room, the exit, there!
It was going to be fine, he was going to escape, he had to. His destiny couldn't end there he had to save Arthur even if from afar.
He left the door, walking to quietly down the hallway, when a loud, "WAIT! STOP!" ran through the halls.
Exhausted, and pained as he was, he broke into a mad dash for freedom, up the stairs he had to get away, he had to get away.
"Wait! Your Highness! Wait!" the voices echoed, no no no! They were getting backup, they were going to get him.
He ducked beneath the awaiting guards, sliding with a touch of magic, as the soles of his feet burned.
He reached the fresh open air, but had nowhere to go, nowhere left to run, guards all around, and and his friends? Why was the knights of the round table there? Why?
They were gonna get him too.
Oh gods, Oh gods.
He backed away towards the ledge, trying to escape from the angry mob.
"Merlin, please, just please step away from the ledge, it's going to be okay, nobody here is going to hurt you," stated the familiar voice of Leon, but Merlin looked around panicked guards, knights, servants why were so many people after him! He wouldn't hurt them, he just wanted to be free, he didn't want to burn, he wanted to escape the heat, the fire, the rage of the people!
He watched as someone out the corner of his eye tried to get closer, and he stepped further away, his foot nearly slipping over the ledge of the balcony.
He had nowhere to go, death either side, but perhaps, perhaps he had a chance if he leapt, his magic might save him.
He couldn't die, he had to protect Arthur, he would still see him to become the king he knew he was.
"NO! You can't hurt me, I- I won't allow it, Arthur needs me!" he pleaded angrily.
"The King needs you safe Merlin, just come here," said Gwaine, and for a moment he hesitated swaying on the balcony.
He felt a strong pair of arms wrap them-self around him and pull him back.
"NO NO NO NO! STOP!" he cried out trying to punch the figure helplessly.
"Shh, Shh, it's okay cariad, Merlin, my Merlin you're safe you're safe," repeated the familiar and calming voice of his-
His king?
He looked up all teary eyed at the face of his- prince- his king? His Arthur?
"I'm safe? Does this mean you won't send me away?" he asked nervously, and Arthur chuckled wetly.
"Oh Merlin, I couldn't even if I wanted to, now come on, please you need rest," he said softly.
Merlin yawned the exhaustion finally overtaking him, "Y-you promiseā¦ Have toā¦ promise."
"I swear on all that I am, you are safe here in my arms where you belong," his king replied.
He vaguely felt the sense of being lifted, as the world faded away in sleep.
---------------------------------āāā
The next time Merlin awoke he felt exhausted, but better, kinda floaty and strange as though he wasn't fully in touch with the world around him, but he was alive and not in pain so he counted that as a win.
"Merlin, Merlin are you awake?" asked the familiar worried tone of Arthur.
"Hey there love," he said softly as he opened his eyes to see a teary yet happy Arthur leaning over him clutching his hand closely to his chest.
"Merlin, oh thank the gods," Arthur exclaimed as he leaned down wrapping Merlin in an embrace and kissing him firmly on the lips.
"Did- Did I really runā¦ It all feels so strange, so many memories clawing together, I'm not sure what was real and what wasn't," he stated slowly.
"The fever brought forth pretty bad delirium for you, you were confused you thought that I wasn't king, that you were dying, burningā¦ Iā¦ I'm so sorry you were so terrified, all I wanted was for you to hear my promises that you were safe and you couldn'tā¦" Arthur whispered softly kissing his hand.
"You did save me though, just as you always do, deep down I still trusted that love we share even if I couldn't see it," he replied with a yawn.
"You should get more rest, one of the healers Nesta gave you some pretty strong calming draught to battle the delusions from the fever, and although you're clearly doing better, you need to sleep and recover my love," Arthur whispered gently, standing up from his chair Merlin grabbed his wrist.
"Come hold me please?"
"Of course, my Merlin, of course," his husband replied, as he came around the other side of the bed, removing his boots and cape, and curling around Merlin cradling him closely.
"I love you Fy Brenin," Merlin whispered as sleep began to take back over.
āItās easy to see medieval people as characters rather than humans,ā Professor Smith is saying as he points up to a slide with Charles Ernest Butlerās painting of King Arthur.
āSee here: Arthur has holy light shining down on him. His features are sharp, the crown seems made for himā¦this moment depicts the fulfilment of destiny. But King Arthur was a man like any other.ā
āBut Professor,ā a boy interrupts, hand half-raised in the universal position of douchebagery, āKing Arthur was, quite literally, a character. Are you certain heās the best example of medieval humanity?ā
āHeās also a king,ā a girl pipes up. āSo heās not a man like any other. We should be focusing on his subjects to find medieval humanity.ā
Professor Smith smiles. He runs his hand through his black hair and steps out from behind the lecturing podium.
āBoth excellent points,ā he says. āKing Arthur, real or notāā
Some confused muttering from the classā
āāis not an accurate representation of the average medieval peasantās life. At the same time, it is important to consider why he may have been out of touch with his people, and in what ways. TH White implied that what made Arthur a better king was his mistreatment as a child by the name of Wart. He engaged in Arthur as a human being in a way Sir Thomas Mallory, perhaps, did notāat least by modern standards. Now.ā
Professor Smith gestures to himself.
āIām Irish.ā
Scattered laughter.
āāI rarely, if ever, have interest in sympathising with an English kingāand I certainly didnāt back then.ā
The laughter takes on a puzzled note.
āBut.ā Professor Smith holds up a finger. āIf we donāt humanise our oppressors, we run the risk of treating their actions like Doctor Doomās attack of the weekārather than something they actively choose to inflict on others. Do you understand my point?ā
Around the lecture hall, students hum and nod in agreement.
āAt the same time, one cannot forget that a king is a king. Arthur was obligated to execute Gwenāer, Guinevereāor else run the risk of showing weakness and shaming himself in front of his people. Yes, he knew Lancelot would save her. It was a decision informed by trust in his friend and his position in power. Arthur was a man with a job to do; an obligation to his people and his predecessors. And with those duties come human emotion: fear of letting down his country and his father, of disrespecting Camelotās history. Gwen and Lancelot stuck by him despite that fear, because they believed in him and they knew he would be a great king.ā
Professor Smith sighs and clasps his hands behind his back.
āBut destiny did not come to pass in the way they expected it. Perhaps they wished they had listened to other perspectives. Perhaps they wished they had taken the chance to live freely together. They wished they had not put so much faith in one man and done themselves and their people a disservice in the process.ā
Thereās a long silence.
Students look fearfully at each other, passing discreet notesāfor the professor looks like he may cry.
āBut they were human too,ā the girl from earlier pipes up. āWe talk a lot about Guinevere and Lancelotās love for Arthur and the way their relationship is depicted as almost ethically non-monogamous, by modern standards. Yes, they may have made a mistake by not living for themselves, but they were living for the love and hope they had in Arthur. Itās, like, proper Shakespearean, when you think about it.ā
āAnd,ā the boy adds, āArthur became a symbol we can all look up to. Heās still very much relevant in the cultural consciousnessāotherwise we wouldnāt be here. Yes, he died prematurely, but he is still the greatest king Albion has ever seen, if only because he has remained a constant ideal which we can look up to. Arthuriana gave TH White comfort after the events of World War II, after all. We cannot underestimate his importance as a symbol.ā
āTrue, especially when we canāt rely on current politicians,ā the girl agrees. āRebellions are built on hope.ā
āA Star Wars reference is fairly gauche in this context, do you not think?ā The boy sneers.
āI donāt think something has to be highbrow to have academic relevance, Charles, no,ā she hisses back.
āI never said anything about it not being highbrow, I just donāt believe Star Wars to be a worthwhile comparisonāā
āReally? Really? Luke Skywalker, the Jedi Knight training to save the galaxy from his evil father? You think that has no relevance, you prat?ā
Merlin smiles and steps behind the podium, dabbing at his eyes with the cuff of his corduroy blazer.
