One slow measured breath, and Merlin opens the door to their flat — his flat — bracing himself against the slosh of anguish that briefly swamps the pit of his stomach every time he returns home from work these days. Something about the erosion of constantly renewed and refreshed disappointment.
He drops his keys on the pair of gloves that lives — untouched — on the shelves in the hallway.
Nothing moves in the flat. Light from the street spills through the windows, drawing sharp patches in variations of amber and orange across the floor and furniture. A faint smell of last night’s lonely Chicken Vindaloo lingers rather unappetisingly in the still air. He turns on the lights. Same old empty flat.
“Hello, I’m home,” he announces with fake cheer to the emptiness. He regrets it immediately. His own voice sounds strained and hollow. Truth be told, he is a bit of a prize-winning idiot in the self-inflicted wounds department. “Aithusa?” he calls gently, needing the emotional support.
Merlin flings his messenger bag on the couch and goes on to the kitchen area. No one there. The generous portion of eye-wateringly expensive kibble still sits in Aithusa’s bowl perfectly undisturbed.
Merlin heaves a controlled sigh. Rubs a tired hand over his brow. It was worth a try.
“Aithusa?” he calls again, injecting a forced buoyancy that he doesn’t feel into his tone. “You big tit, where are you?”
Merlin takes a better look around the living-room, then goes back into the hallway, checks the bathroom, then approaches the bedroom. The absence of stench is encouraging. Maybe this time he will be spared the puddle of piss on his side of the bed and the runny turd in his favourite trainers.
In the end, Merlin finds the tuxedo cat sulking under the bed.
“Come on, you can’t keep doing this, mate,” Merlin chides as he gently drags the toneless pet from where he is hiding. The soft, plaintive mrow is a jab to Merlin's already aching heart. The yellow eyes are gunky and full of reproach and sorrow, and Merlin can feel the ribs a bit too sharp under the lacklustre fur. He gathers the sickly cat to his chest and holds him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You can’t go on like this. I know you miss him, but you have to eat,” he pleads as the black tail remains motionless. "It's hard enough as it is without—" he cuts himself off and hugs the miserable cat a little closer.
There's only one possible way out of this mess and he hates it.
Read the rest on AO3
Title: Arthur Again
Pairing: Merthur
Rating: Explicit
Word count: ~11k
Tags: Modern AU, ANGST!, Merlin's POV, jealousy, pining, Happy Ending
Notes: Bit different from my usual tone, bit angstier. You'll have to trust me. 😉 My endless thanks to @bertytravelsfar for being such an amazing friend and beta. Love youuuu! ❤️❤️❤️
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“One chance,” the spirit says. “One choice. You will relive the past as if it is the first time, but only once may you turn down a different road. What branches thenceforth will be unknowable. Wiser men than you have failed to find the gift within this curse.”
Merlin’s voice thrums thick with blood. “And I cannot bring him back?”
The spirit shifts, treetops crowing to the wind. “An act of nature once transpired cannot be reversed, and you may not wish away the convictions of another man. But there are other means to change the future, warlock. Perhaps you would allow the druid boy to burn, slay the witch before she comprehends her power, or enlighten your prince to the origins of his birth.”
“No,” says Merlin, stepping forward. “I would make every choice I made for him again.”
The vision of the spirit flickers, the crystal glowing hot in Merlin’s palm. “Then why have you summoned me?”
“One choice,” Merlin repeats, to the moonless forest. The boat still burning on the lake. “One chance. I wish never to have met Kilgharrah.”
The thing’s lips curl into a sneer. “You would have me send you so far back? To pluck a stitch so early in your tapestry might disentangle it entirely, or fail to warp even a single thread. You may not prevent the young Pendragon’s death.”
Merlin grips Excalibur, hilt lingering touch-warm at his hip. “I understand.”
The spirit eyes him, gaze calculating, thin. “You would choose this just to spite an enemy?”
“No,” says Merlin. “To unlearn the prophecy. Let me try again loving Arthur on my own.”
me, calling my brother, urgently: ok, who would win, the knights of the round table or the kpop demon hunters? you may laugh, but listen, the three of them jumped out of a plane with no parachute and landed totally fine IN HEELS at their kpop concert. i dont know that they can take much damage. plus i think lancelot would be really overwhelmed by the concept of kpop. and
initially the knights of the round table appear to have the advantage, attacking the supernatural sirens with confusing hair colors with gusto; huntrix is obviously reluctant to engage with innocent(ish) humans. however, the tides begin to turn when 1) rumi not only holds her own against excalibur, but also glows in a very non-evil-coded manner, which a random hermit explains is the same light as the star of bethlehem; 2) zoey tells sir gawain mid-battle she just wants everyone to stop fighting and he is constitutionally incapable of ignoring a request from a nice young lady; and 3) mira picks up one of the many pieces of cursed furniture lying around and absolutely whales the tar out of sir kay.
at this point actual demons attack and the two groups team up and for some reason lancelot is dressed as a backup dancer. crisis averted, the round table inquires about the obligatory secret familial connection and discover that rumi and merlin have the same demon dad, so that's okay. mira gives kay all his teeth back and they all have a feast, which is interrupted halfway through by derpy delivering a message with the next quest. unfortunately, the WIP is then abandoned before being picked up by a different author who writes 300K about blackpink's quest for the holy grail, the end.
The "abandoned before being picked up by a different author" bit makes it sound like we're talking about a 500,000 word multichapter AO3 story but the medieval romances were exactly like that
#1 is a hoodie. No doubt about it. Zip is there, hood is there. It is a hoodie.
#2 is where we start to question a little bit. But the answer remains the same. That is a hoodie.
#3 is not difficult at all. That is a jumper. NOT A SWEATER. A sweater is not ugly unless it is a christmas sweater that is intended to be ugly. That third one is a jumper (or a pullover if you want to be different).
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
