There is a reason why Percival makes sure to change last after training, and that none of the other knights be around to see him. This night, he has failed to consider that Merlin might still be up and about, doing Arthur's chores.
In the armoury, stories and scars are traded quietly, and a few steps are taken to get closer to a Golden Albion.
hi trans kiwis and friends. if you haven't seen the news, they're trying to pass a frankly insidious bill in aotearoa to define the terms 'man' and 'woman' based on biological sex. this unsurprisingly reflects a lot of similar cruel efforts happening overseas at the moment. IT HASN'T PASSED YET, but I figured I should speak up about it because this is happening as we speak.
(screenshot from the linked RNZ article)
it seems very fucking bleak!!!! please don't lose hope! it hasn't passed yet and a lot of the shoddy bills suggested by the coalition have been shot down already. it's still worth knowing about. you don't have to share this post if you don't want to. I just know that a lot of my followers are kiwi. if there are any updates as to what we can do to push back against this, I'll make a relevant addition. kia kaha, okay? love you all.
UPDATE: you can now very quickly and very easily submit a comment on the bill! these will be counted and considered in parliament.
it took me less than three minutes, and that's only because I wrote a whole paragraphs on why this is a stupid idea. all you really need to put is "don't pass this bill" if you want. it'll only take 30 seconds.
if you're able to and you want to, please consider reblogging! the more reach this gets, the better. thank you all so much [:
Btw Gwen had to be a servant for the first seasons to work because if she'd been walking around Camelot in her Noble Lady dresses, Arthur would have walked into a stone pillar on day one and concussed himself so badly destiny wouldn't get the chance to begin, let alone be fullfilled
Oh oh oh! How about! Identity Porn where Arthur first meets Gwen whilst she's in the middle of one of Morgana's "Let's play dolls with my maid" phases so she's wearing a gown and jewels and make up and Arthur's brain just flatlines so bad he never realises and from the on he's just desperate to find the Noble Lady who stole his heart
Meanwhile Merlin is glaring at the back of his skull because GWEN just passed by with a chest of linens but Arthur is so biased and so arrogant when it comes to servants that he never notices
Morgana enjoys dressing Gwen up randomly and dragging her around the corridors just to watch Arthur walk into columns when he catches sight of her
King Arthur wearing a stupid (disguising) hat that Merlin made him and telling Guinevere he cannot take it off because he has an ugly head is hilarious, but Guinevere going "Alright keep your cap but get me some roses" and immediately stealing the cap from Arthur's head the moment his hands are full of flowers is twice as funny: dumbest king in history in every iteration of the legend for real
The moment he steps back into Camelot, Merlin is storming the library for an anti-bandits spell.
Well, maybe he'll stop by Gaius' first, get this pesky eye looked at so it maybe starts focusing again and maybe bind the ribs. Perhaps he will also crawl to the kitchens, he's certainly hungry enough for it. And maybe, just maybe, he'll drag himself to Arthur's rooms to let him know he won't be serving him breakfast the morning after, or lunch or dinner or anything heavier than a feather and that requires him to take more than two steps, but really that's only if he's feeling generous and if Arthur has not already made threats against his person for his late return.
But then, oh, to the library it is. There has to be some tome or grimoire or a loose piece of parchment somewhere that teaches a spell to keep stupid, smelly, arrogant bandits at bay. Anything, truly. At any cost.
He's just so tired of bloody bandits.
The only small luck was that they caught him on his way back from Ealdor, so all the coin he'd brought with him made it safely to his mother. That was good. She'd been fighting a pesky cold for a few weeks now and Merlin stopped by to deliver some medicine and oversee her for a few days, before fall turned full to winter and made it impossible to travel. She was doing much better now and Merlin had weighted her chances at taking care of herself whilst still half recovering against Arthur's in full health, and started walking.
Perhaps that had been half the reason the bandits had been so vicious with him. He didn't have anything of worth to steal, the most precious of his possessions being the scarf around his neck as it used to be one of Arthur's old shirts. Maybe they'd mistaken him for a messanger, though alone on foot and with barely a blanket for his travels hardly seemed to him like the picture of a good mark.
The bad luck had been that they jumped on him as he was sleeping. He'd been tired from the scare of his mother's health and worried after missing a week from Camelot, and he'd forgotten to put any sort of protection spell on his camp before the warmth of the small fire lulled him into shaded dreams. He'd l woken up to a hand of his mouth and two quick punches to his kidneys.
He had not been allowed to catch his breath as one of the men ransacked his bag, and the other three took turns holding him and smacking him around. His magic had twisted and twirled uselessly in his ribcage, unable to hold onto a target as his vision blurred and shook. He'd lost his footing and ended up with his face in the mud; when he'd tried to get up on his elbows, someone had stomped on his face.
His vision had whited out. When it had cleared, his camp had gone quiet except the embers from the night before were now alive once again. The little fire burned bright but cracked occasionally, like a pet seeking the master's attention.
Merlin had blinked the dust and blood away, taken distracted stock of the crumpled bodies amidst the ringing of his ears and groaned himself up to kneeling then sitting then finally, miraculously, to his feet.
He's been walking since.
With dawn and sunlight comes a touch of clarity that makes him remember he did not collect any of his things, had abandoned them in his quiet but desperate hurry to put as much distance as possible from the blatant display of magic before anyone could stumble into it and make the connection.
The bag itself is hardly a problem, Gaius has a spare that he could borrow, and the changes of clothes are a bother but could be easily replaced with Arthur's cast offs. Merlin doesn't generally like to use them, the fabric way too rich and attention-seeking, but he could do it. The worst loss is genuinely the blanket, because the night walking seeped the warmth for Merlin's feet and hands and nose and ears and, damn, he should have accepted Arthur's gift of a cloak. The problem is: it was not been framed as a gift but came with a lecture about mistaken washing (it wasn't) and ruined wool (it wasn't) no longer being worthy of covering the royal arse, so Merlin had had no choice but to rudely decline.
The frost melts off the dead grass before his feet touch the earth, the wind swirls not to touch him and the magic buzzes just under his skin to keep him from completely freezing, but Merlin feels numb all the same.
It is a tricky thing, to look for the path ahead with only one good eye, and it comes at the price of a spearing pain straight through his skull. Merlin attempted it a couple times during the night, but he's long since given up on account of the screaming. He doesn't really want to attract any more attention.
At least, having walked all night, Camelot couldn't be too far now and closer to the capital there are many inns along the main road. He might not find a healer there, but some warm food and a hearth to regain feeling in his limbs at least. Depending on the place, and whether or not Gwaine made himself known there yet, he might even find a horse to be lent to him on credit as a member of the royal household. He isn't particularly fond of the idea of riding with his bruised ribs, but the horse is at least certain to walk in a straight line rather than stumble his way around like a newborn foal.
No more than, possibly, half a day and he should be in Camelot. Maybe a bit longer, considering the pace he has kept since. By evening for sure. He won't spend another night out, no need to worry about it.
He is worrying about it, when the profile of a small building with a half-broken sign by the door makes his heart skip a beat. A wooden horse or maybe a unicorn, Merlin can hardly make out the silhouette with only one eye, but at least it's an inn.
The mistake is trying to up the pace. Arthur would say that Merlin has two left feet on a good day, let alone when he cannot properly gouge depth, so what was he thinking, but Merlin is now face in the mud and shaking with shivers so he imagines telling the Prince where to shove his opinions and then. Just. Lays there.
He is very much tired, he didn't sleep a wink after all. He could close his eyes just a moment, perhaps, and take a bit of a nap. He doesn't have money for the inn, anyway, so walking inside is only half a probability that he will get help. If he cannot even tell his name, what use is talking to the keeper anyway?
Just a short rest, and then he'll get up. He'll walk through the door and ask for help getting to Camelot. Perhaps a merchant with a cart will take him on a promise of a silver; Arthur would certainly pay the sum when he sees Merlin's state and he would only need lying in the back without even having to hold bridles.
Yes. A little nap, and then he'll try the inn. He will be in Camelot in no time.
No time at all.
*
Next he opens his eye - singular, for his left is pressed shut by something heavy - Merlin is, indeed, in Camelot.
He can tell by the smell: mint, lavender and honey, and a touch of rotting flesh. Gaius' rooms come to him in broad strokes: first the heavy planks of the rooftop, then the bright flame of the hearth where a heavy pot bubbles lazily, the working table full of baubles and papers and dry plants. The man himself is, seemingly, nowhere to find but another shape, the source of the lavender no doubt, sits on a chair close enough for Merlin to make out the wrinkled forehead.
"Gwen," he croaks, and winces both at the cracks in his own voice and the yelp she lets out when the needle slips forth and stabs her finger.
It's either an easily forgotten injury or a very bad embroidery work, because Gwen throws the whole thing, cloth and frame as one, on the dirty floor merely a second before her knees join in. "Merlin!"
Maybe it is because she's a blacksmith's daughter, but her hands are furnaces where they touch him, on his forehead and on his left wrist. He sighs heavily in bliss. "Hi."
Her chuckle is wet and low in volume. Paired with the fact that he is blatantly in Gaius' workplace rather than his room, Merlin assumes he didn't make it to the city on his own two feet or by cart.
His mouth is sticky and his tongue makes annoying clicking noises when he tries to unstick it from either roof or bottom of his mouth. Before he can formulate the words, Gwen's hand has moved to cradle his skull and lift his head to a cup.
He half expects this to be one of Gaius' ambushes, but it's only deliciously sweet water, no sheep brains or mold at all. He drinks two greedy mouthfuls before he feels the cup lifting; and it takes all his strength not to chase after it.
Gwen helps him back down. "How do you feel?"
"Oh great. Amazing. Why do you ask?" Her glare is nowhere as scary as Gaius' but it makes him feel guilty enough that he sighs. "Not as bad as I thought I'd feel. My ribs are the worst, but I'm mostly worried about the eye."
"The swelling in your face went down a lot," Gwen agrees. "Gaius put some poultice on it and a wrap around to keep it in place, but said it didn't look like you were at risk of losing it."
"Good. I really need both to watch over Arthur, at the rate he gets in trouble."
"Oh, you think you can talk?" But Merlin has long since learnt the trick to deal with Gwen's offense, and he busts out the brightest smile he can, making sure that his cheeks dimple. "Stop it! You were foolish to make the trip on your own with that much money in your bag, and you won't distract me from it. Gwaine said he'd offered to come along and you turned him down."
Merlin groans. This thing is going to be held against him for months, he just knows it. "I can look after myself."
"I'd like to hear you say that without a wheeze in your lungs," another voice pipes up, somewhere above Merlin's head. It has the perfect mix of condescension and irritation to hide almost perfectly every hint of worry, which of course betrays its owner.
"I'm not wheezing," Merlin counters. That he coughs right after means nothing. His throat is merely still parched. "You've had worse. I've had worse. We get attacked by bandits every other time we ride out of Camelot. Let's not make this a bigger issue than it is."
Arthur's golden head appears in Merlin's sight, upside down. He has a single brow arched and his lips thinned. "You were attacked by bandits," he says. "And you, what, scared them all off on account of your copious bleeding?"
Merlin tries not to shiver at the memory, the feeling of control slipping from his fingers and the storm of magic roaring as it cracked out of his ribcage. "I didn't have anything worth stealing on me. They worked through their anger-" he tries to offer Arthur a companion smile, but hardly manages to chip the mask on his face, "-and then left. More trouble than it's worth, that's me."
"You are most definitely worth the trouble of bringing home." Gwen's voice, somber and quiet, holds more weight than her hand skimming over his chest. "But try and spare us the effort, will you? Next time, take a knight with you."
Every time he breathes, he can feel the binding keeping his ribs together. "I don't think I want to introduce Gwaine to my mother."
"Sweet heavens, no." Merlin watches, quiet, as Arthur circles the cot to come and stand behind his wife. His hand reaches out for her shoulder and squeezes. He makes no move to touch him. "Hunith has done nothing to deserve that. You'll take Percival."
Merlin could tell him that he's not planning on visiting Ealdor for many months now, that his place now is in Camelot and that protecting the Once and Future King from magical attacks is not the sort of job that leaves much time off. He could tell him he got rid of his attackers all on his own, that it was just surprise that let them get the upper hand at first. He could tell him that if magic was legal in Camelot, none of this would have happened.
He could tell him to go fuck himself too. That'd be, ironically, the least likely to get him killed on a pyre option.
He says, "What, my mum's porridge is not good enough for the royal tongue now?"
Arthur's face goes on a journey. Merlin watches him with the same rapture as an experienced minstrel, savoring every change in the skin hue.
Gwen, being too kind at heart, steps in before Arthur can settle on a purple shade and begin threatening stocks. "We'll leave you to rest now. I can have a page inform Gaius that you're awake, I'm sure he wants to see you."
"If he puts a leech on me, I'm running away," Merlin groans for a goodbye. His body is growing heavier again, his head is throbbing and breathing is hard. If nobody gives one to him soon, he will crawl his way to the bench and fetch himself a sleeping draught on his own and damn the consequences.
Arthur, as if reading his mind, scoffs. "You'd be lucky to roll anywhere, the state you're in, but for your luck you lost so much blood already that I doubt you have any more to give."
He helps Gwen to her feet with a noble hand, presses the other also nobly on her back when she passes by and then, at long last, his fingers slip when he half bows to retrieve her shawl and they press against Merlin's wrist. He might as well be checking for a pulse, the way he pressed on the inner side with merely two fingertips.
It's alright. Merlin can read between the lines. He turns his head in turn even if doing so means he squashes the healthy side of his face in the pillow and he places Arthur fully in his blind side, then he smiles as reassuringly as he can.
Predictable to the bone, Arthur takes the opportunity of being unseen to do whatever it is he does with his face when he's worried. Merlin can tell because he hears the purposely low sigh that accompanies it.
A tap and the touch is gone. Steps make their way to the door and underneath the whinging of the joint Gwen murmurs something too low. If Arthur answers, it's only when they're well down the hallway.
Merlin closes his good eye. He doesn't doubt Gaius will be by in a blink and with him more blessedly painless sleep, so he takes as deep a breath as he can and he settles in for the wait.
And, once he's back on his feet, first thing as soon as he can safely wobble around: he's going to Geoffrey's bloody library.
happy pride month to everyone - to other disabled people, to people who don’t fit into neat labels, to people made to feel they’re not queer ‘enough’. To people who get shit for being out & people who can never be out, i’m thinking of you all, i love you
When I drew this, I wrote a blog alongside about the tension between being a ‘palatable’ trans or queer person vs genuinely being yourself, and why it means so much to me to tell queer stories - in the current climate, I think it feels more relevant than ever.
For this pride, I just unlocked it for anyone to read here.
I was thinking of reblogging this again just because the original video is still amazing, but then I see the second video and lost my mind. The upgraded fan, the body glitter, the sheer fact that he got to do this with the actual singer.
people really do have such short memories about lots of things but specifically gay sex was a crime in much of the usa less than 25 years ago like i remember it and gay marriage wasn’t legalized until 11 years ago and i was a grown woman waiting to get my hair cut when i found out. on a beautiful june day!!!
I love that four different people on my feed scheduled this joyous person to reblog by 8am on June 1. I look forward to seeing this a dozen more times today.
i think we should be ridiculing them more for this. you don't get to try and go all "queer website" when your staff likes to go on nuking sprees targeting the trans fem users
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