Sure, I'll Drink The Pink Swirly Potion That Released A Little Heart Shaped Cloud When You Uncorked It.

Merlin/Arthur | Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 500

Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Survival | Injury Recovery

For @merlinmicrofic with the prompt "starting over"

Merlin and Arthur find refuge in a small broken down cottage

☾ ☾ ☾

Before Arthur knew what was happening, his hand was on the hilt of his sword. He almost evicted Merlin from the mildewed thing they called a bed. 

Cold hands found his neck, his face in the dark. “It’s just thunder, Arthur.”

He lay back down and Merlin lay on his chest. Their hearts slowed together. The rain on the broken roof went on.

“I’ll work out the spell, I promise.”

Gone, for now, were Merlin’s entreaties for Arthur to return to Camelot. They would face whatever came next together.

Arthur drifted, until water dropped down on his forehead. He groaned.

Arthur strode across the small, disused field, carrying a hare by its ears. It was dusk and ahead of him was their temporary salvation, a little lopsided cottage, with a field of its own taking root on what was left of the roof. 

When he let himself inside Merlin was there to greet him, making no secret of the fact he had been peering anxiously though the little window. 

“I caught a hare,” Arthur told him.

Merlin grimaced but nodded. “I heard it screaming.”

They needed more than the meagre meals they had made of fried hazel catkins and cleavers.

Merlin was making use of a sturdy ash rod they had found while they were still running, the burns on the outside of Merlin’s right leg and his feet were still healing and the tightened skin gave him a limp. But he was dispelling any illusions Arthur had of his frailty, advancing on him now like a storm.

Arthur dropped the rusted hoe he’d been using.

“I told you! There’s no use in planting when we’ll just have to run again!”

“Your spell...”

“There’s no spell!”

“There could be if-”

“If I try? You do it, if it’s so easy!”

The ground was uneven here in the green wood. Merlin told him that this place had been used by a charcoal maker, he had no doubt that the earth here had once smoked hellishly. He checked their traps. The woods went on. But where was Merlin? Where did he leave him? Feelings of temporary safety, images of holding Merlin in a suntrap somewhere fled from him. He panicked, called his name.

Then an answer. “-thur! Arthur!”

He saw him, ran, caught him.

“Arthur! I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” he soothed, then he grinned. “My spell worked a little too well, then?”

Their little shelter was golden with the morning sun and so, just for a moment, were Merlin’s eyes. Arthur found he couldn’t let go of his hands, feeling they might just fall to their knees in relief otherwise. They were safe, anyone who tried to find them now would be gently guided away.

“Promise me this isn’t forever, Arthur,” Merlin beseeched quietly. “Promise me we’ll return and you’ll be king.”

“We will return, when the time is right, when you’re healed and we have a plan.” He pulled him close. “Until then…”

“Until then…” Merlin’s eyes fell to Arthur's lips.

Call me Irish Rail the way I'm-

down for essential maintenance over the Easter break.

If you have Spotify reblog this and tag what your number one song on your “on repeat” playlist is.

bat

Aberdeen Bestiary, England ca. 1200

Aberdeen University Library, MS 24, fol. 51v

Night watch, Ben Sledsens

MERLINLADIES’ FAVOURITE COSTUMES Gwen’s embroidered top and fur vest in 4x13 “The Sword in the Stone: Part Two ”

Gwen & Merlin | Teen & Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 500

Post-Canon | Ghosts | Grief & Mourning | Immortal Merlin

For @merlinmicrofic with the dialogue prompt "almost" and the @tavernfest Merlin Horror Month 2024

An elderly Gwen summons Merlin to Camelot on Samhain. Their old friends walk the Earth again for a night.

☾ ☾ ☾

She was sitting by the fire in the chambers she had once shared with her husband. The flames sputtered in the grate, attacked by the late autumn winds. Upon the hearth there were food offerings; it was Samhain, the eve of the night the dead woke from their sleep and roamed the Earth once again.

“Merlin,” Gwen called to him softly, her eyes shining and a little cloudy in the light, evidence of the cataracts laying claim to them. She stretched out her hand and he hobbled over with his staff and took it. It was soft, wrinkled, but strong. 

Gwen had received him earlier in the throne room but this, with the night blackening the windows, was when they could truly speak. 

He sat down groaningly beside her. Immediately, she leaned towards him in her chair and poked his knee. “I heard a rumour.” 

He leaned as well. “A rumour?” he croaked. 

“I’m told that you're not as you appear to be. That you…” she seemed to search for the words. “They say nature has not taken hold of you as it has me.” 

He opened his mouth but she stopped him.

“Let me see you as you really are... Please.” 

He changed, letting go of the glamour he had assumed. 

By the way she reached out, he knew she couldn’t help it. She cupped his unbearded face, swiped a thumb over his cheek like there was a tear there just as her own eyes filled. 

“It’s like…” she trailed off in wonder. 

“Seeing a ghost?” he guessed. 

“No,” she shook her head, retracting her hand. “No. I should know… I called you here because-” 

There was a knock at the door. 

She cleared her throat, emotion leaving her voice. “Come in.” 

A knight entered.

“Is it time?” she asked.

“Almost.” 

“Help an old woman up, Merlin?” 

They were on the ramparts of the outer walls, it had been a struggle to get up here, but Gwen, now bundled in Merlin’s cloak, had been singularly determined.

It was a full moon but the night was choked with mist. 

Merlin’s magic prickled, beyond the walls something had stepped back onto the mortal plane. 

He tried again to implore her to return to the palace. “Gwen, it's Samhain, we shouldn’t-” 

“Just… Watch.” 

He grimaced but did as his queen bid. 

A horse whinnied faintly, like the tail end of an echo. From the mist, three caped figures on horseback were given form. Ceremonial Camelot banners, washed grey by the night, waved silently in a non-existent wind above them. Their shape, their faces, tilted up, serene, their eyes on the queen – Merlin startled. “It’s-!”

“Gwaine… Lancelot… and Elyan,” she finished, her voice breaking more with each name. 

“But..? Gods, why-?”

“They came last year, and the year before that,” she said, breathing. She drew her borrowed cloak closer. “I know now. They're waiting for me.” 

In Avalon his friends would be together again. Death had never been kinder, and fate more gruel. 

Bog Visit - July

"You don't know me. I'm not the same person anymore."

"That's okay. I'll get to know you again."