Merlin x Reader

"It's a good thing she's getting rest." A voice somewhere above the clouds stated optimistically.

"Yes, a good thing indeed." Another echoed, floating near another cloud.

Your head ached as if you harbored a nest of mice chewing and nibbling at your brain. You cringed just thinking of it. The voices above you were so irritating; you wanted nothing more than for them to stop. You groaned and were pleased to find that they did. Silence, comforting silence, surrounded you.

Slowly the aching in your head ebbed away like the tide going out and you were able to think clearly. You knew you were in Camelot, and what your name (and title) was, so you figured you couldn't have hit your head too hard. Before even opening your eyes you came to the conclusion that you were in the physician's chambers, or perhaps your own, and the voices you heard had to belong to the physician and perhaps his assistant. You opened your eyes. Yes, these chambers were your own.

There was no point in trying to feign sleep, you decided, so you shifted slightly to let the physician know you were awake.

"How is my aunt?" You demanded to know. Deep in your gut, you simply knew that she had to be dead, but a little voice inside desperately clung to the hope that she was not, that she was being treated the same as you and would be okay. The look on the physician's wrinkled face told you far more than words.

"I'm very sorry, your highness." He told you sincerely. "How are you feeling?"

You managed a shrug. In your present state of mind you did not notice how you were addressed as "your highness," rather than "lady," as befitting a ward. A commotion seemed to burst in through the door. You only managed to twist your body slightly to see the King coming towards you. Ah, a commotion indeed.

"Your highness, I'm glad to see you awake and well. We are very lucky you were not harmed." Arthur breezed, taking your hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Yes, I-I suppose so." You stuttered. How lucky could you be really? Your aunt, your only family in the world, was dead, and now she had left you in charge of a kingdom you didn't know was yours until only very recently!

"Tell me," your voice was stronger now, "what became of the perpetrator?"

You wanted to know the fate of the person who ripped your aunt away from you. Yes, it was magic that killed her, but you blamed the person, not the weapon. Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"He was immediately arrested and placed in a cell."

"Good," you nodded, "I should like to speak with him."

What you wanted to know was why. Why would he do this? Your aunt's kingdom was friendly to those with magic, so why target a friend rather than a foe. The handsome blond king in front of you was nothing but kind, but, if you were given a choice between his life and your aunt's, there would be no choice. Why her?

"The guards found him hanging there this morning." Arthur told you in a low voice. "His arms were bound and he was gagged. We don't think it was a suicide attempt; someone chose to kill him."

You didn't know how to respond. On one hand, you were glad in a twisted way that your aunt's murderer was dead. However, on the other you now had proof that the citizens of Camelot were not kind to magic. The whole ordeal made you feel sick. Arthur did not push the matter further, and you suspected it had a lot to do with the queasy look on your face.

He didn't protest when you asked both him and Gaius to leave the room.

The guard Arthur insisted stay near you nodded politely as he closed the door behind your leaving guests. You never really knew the proper decorum for dealing with a guard, so you just bowed your head in thanks and watched him take up his post on the other side as it swung shut. Once the door closed behind him, you allowed yourself to drop the semblance of tranquility and calm you were holding.

The full force of your aunt's death hit you like falling off a horse and hitting the ground. The air seemed to be pulled from your lungs and you were floating between right and wrong, day and night. Nothing seemed real, not except for the deep ache in your chest.

If she were still alive, she'd be here now at your bedside. You remembered a time, when you were younger, when you were dreadfully ill and she, even while ruling as queen, kept a constant vigil at your bedside. She soothed your fears and was a comforting presence during those dark times.

Though she never let you call her mother--"I'm not your mother, my love. She was a much better woman than I am"--some times you simply couldn't help but think it. And now she was gone. Oh gods. Your throat tightened up and you struggled to breath again.

Your eyes slammed shut and hot tears forced their way down your face. You buried your face in your hands, wishing that everything could just go back to normal. Wrenching sobs wracked your chest, but a noise outside the door alerted you to attention.

"Your highness? Are you alright?" You heard someone ask, knocking softly on the door. You assumed that it was one of Arthur's servants he'd sent to look after you; if you sent him back Arthur would only send more. You didn't want him to worry about you. As you were just now discovering, crown rulers had numerous things to think about at all times. You wiped your eyes quickly and turned your back to the door, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders. Maybe you could pretend to be sleeping and send him away quickly.

"Yes, I'm fine, but you may as well come in." You sighed. As royalty, Aunt Lysa had warned you that you'd never have privacy when you wanted it. Apparently that also extended to mourning.

The serving boy opened the door and stuck his head in halfway, almost apologetically. When you didn't protest, he stepped all the way through the door and closed it behind him. Now that you could see him entirely, you recognized him from the feast. He had been bickering with the king over whether or not it was proper for him to wear his hat--a monstrosity of feathers and velvet, really. In the end, Merlin won and the hat lay discarded for the evening. The memory made you smile slightly, a small ray of sunshine in the otherwise desolate world. As the firelight glinted in his eyes you remembered one more thing--he was also the one to pull you away from the danger.

You may have owed him your life.

"Arthur sent me to check up on you." He explained. "He knows what it's like to lose someone you love. He had a sister..."

Morgana. You knew. She had been missing for nearly a year now. Word had spread quickly throughout the kingdoms to look for her, but everyone feared the worst. Either she didn't want to be found or she was dead. You nodded understandingly. Poor Arthur.

"You may tell Arthur that I'm fine." You sighed. "If that's all..."

"Forgive me for being bold, my lady--your highness," Merlin cringed at his blunder, "but you're very clearly not fine."

You laughed hoarsely, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

"Your powers of observation are in-credible. How much does Arthur pay you?"

"Not nearly enough." He confessed, shrugging his lanky shoulders awkwardly.

You laughed at this, but immediately felt guilty. Still, it felt good to laugh. Talking with Merlin distracted you. Maybe that was Arthur's intention of sending him in the first place.

Over the next few days, Merlin was a frequent visitor at your bedside. Your head had sustained a bit of a massive injury, and Gaius didn't want to risk you hurting yourself any more, so you were restricted to bed rest. Merlin always seemed to bring the outside in with him, with stories of the Knights and whatever stupid trouble Arthur had gotten himself into recently, and those visits soon became the best part of your day.

One evening, Merlin stayed later than usual, not leaving to serve Arthur his dinner as he usually did.

"The prat actually gave me a night off, can you believe it?" He grinned, pulling up his favorite chair. You gently smiled in response.

"Merlin, if this is your only night off, by all means don't feel like you have to spend it here with me."

"Why? I like spending time with you. Besides, Gaius would like me to improve my patient management skills. How do you feel, patient?"

"Managed." You joked.

As the two of you sat and talked, the sun set and soon your room was rather dark, save for the fire in the fireplace and the few candles on the desk. You had a candle on your night table, and that seemed like the obvious solution.

It was an accident, really. You weren't thinking. That was your problem--Lysa would always tell you; you never thought before you acted. Before you could even think of the consequences, you'd used a little bit of magic to created a flame on the candle on the table for light. You heard Merlin gasp.

"Y-you have magic?"

You stared at him quizzically for a moment, thinking. If he betrayed you to the guards, what were the odds of you surviving? You really weren't sure, but, considering that Lysa was already dead there wasn't a terrible amount left for you to live for. Even if it would get you killed, why not tell the servant about magic? A fine idea, really.

"I know a little magic. Well, it's not much at all. Every bit I've got I had to fight for. Lysa believed that a good ruler had to know about all of her subjects. The magic users were simply the more marginalized ones."

"Oh." Was all that Merlin could say.

"I supposed you'll want to run off to Arthur and have me arrested." You sighed, wishing you'd heeded Lysa's advice and been more careful. You blew out the candle, watching the smoke rise and dissipate as if it were erasing all evidence.

"No! Well, actually, it'd be very silly for me to run off to Arthur. I'd be the biggest hypocrite."

"Oh?" You pursed your lips, parroting his word back at him.

Merlin merely raised his hand and the flame grew back where it had been. He used magic, just as you had done.

"That's vexing." You commented. "How could one of Arthur's closest friends keep such a big secret?"

Merlin reddened.

"I do it so he won't have to make that choice, to let me live or break the law. I wouldn't want to put him in that situation."

"I see." Such a thing would never happen in Lysa's kingdom. Perhaps Arthur had as much to learn from you as you did from him.

"Do you really protect magic users in your kingdom?" Merlin burst out asking, as if the question had been bothering him all day.

"Of course. They're people too, and have every right to be." You told him firmly. Aunt Lysa told you the same thing when you were young, frightened of the unknown.

"I've been told magic has no place in Camelot. D'you think that's true?"

"Well, you're here and I'm here and we both have magic, so I'd say that there is a place here."

The next few days quickly turned into weeks and then months while you were amidst a whirl of funerary preparations and beyond. There was no way you could successfully take Lysa's body back to be burned in her home kingdom, so Arthur graciously built her a pyre worthy of a queen. You were the one to light the torch, making a big show of doing it with flint and stone when you really just used your magic. It felt better that way, more elemental and natural.

As you watched the flames lick at the sky, you couldn't help but feel more alone than you ever had, even with Arthur on one side and Merlin at the other. Lysa, your last living family member, was gone and she left you enough responsibility for a lifetime. Too much, even.

How on earth could you rule without her?

Arthur had graciously advocated for your coronation ceremony to be held in Camelot, rather than returning all the way home to be legally allowed to rule and then coming back to finally get on with the peace treaties. You didn't want any more delays.

You requested that the ceremony be brief and austere. Out of respect for Lysa, it was done. No banquet was arranged, no orchestra merrily playing. Arthur, being the highest power in the kingdom, was the one to formally crown you. There was no one from Lysa's kingdom of a reputable stature to do it, so it had to be him. As you knelt before him, listening to the bland words of politics and formal sanctions, he lowered the crown onto your head.

The weight of it startled you.

It was cold, and heavy, and so unlike anything you'd expected. You remained kneeling, staring at the floor and simply allowing yourself to feel. Gods, you felt this gnawing emptiness inside. The floor hurt your knees, the crown hurt your head, the circumstances hurt... everything.

"Y/N?" Arthur gently prompted. There were no spectators, no one but Merlin, there to gasp at the breach of decorum. It was just the three of you.

"Are you alright?" Camelot's king asked the new queen.

"I don't know." You replied in a halting voice, straightening up. Arthur's hand was immediately there offering assistance and you gladly took it.

"Is your crown this uncomfortable too?" You asked. Arthur laughed heartily, nodding.

"It's unbearable." He agreed.

Following dinner that evening, you cornered Merlin in your chambers when he visited, more by habit now than anything else. You were seated staring out the window and Merlin was puttering around with the fireplace, adjusting the decorative objects on the mantle out of boredom.

"Merlin, I need your help." You lowered your voice, looking out into the courtyard below.

"Yeah?" He replied casually. Even to a Queen his manners were still the same. You wouldn't have it any other way. Turning to face him, you twisted your fingers together in your lap.

"I need a distraction." You said.

"Oh?" He replied, brushing his hands on his trousers and crossing the room to the window in a few long strides. "How can I help?"

"Make me stop thinking." You looked up at him helplessly.

As if the words were a gods-given command, Merlin snapped into action and his lips were on yours in an instant, a hand wound possessively in your hair. For a moment, it was everything. It was the press of his body against yours, it was the smell of his skin, it was the taste of his lips. After that moment it all cleared away and it was a blissful nothingness that took its place.

The steadfast, proper queen you had become was able to rest, to walk away, leaving behind the person with desires and needs. You grabbed and you took what you needed, decorum be damned.

Skin sweaty and bare, you tangled in each other's arms and let the candles burn themselves out. In the quietest hours of the night was your mind the most active. Fears and anxieties about the future crept in.

"Merlin," you whispered into the darkness, "I don't know how to rule a kingdom."

"If it's any consolation," came his response, "I don't either."

You grinned sheepishly, staring up in the general direction of the cieling. Merlin rolled over so that he could kiss the bare skin on your shoulder, lips warm on cool flesh. You absentmindedly combed your fingers through his hair, and he rested his head next to yours on the pillow.

"But you're not a queen. You don't have to rule." You continued, pursuing your lips. Surely by now news had already traveled home that Lysa was dead. How on earth will they react when you return? Alone?

"True," he considered, feeling the weight of the word on his tongue. What did it mean to rule? Arthur certainly wouldn't be sitting on the throne if it weren't for Merlin, so did that make him a ruler, too? Merlin wrinkled his nose. God, he hoped not.

"The success of a king--or queen--is as much dependent on their subjects as their prowess in ruling." He said thoughtfully.

"How philosophical of you." You rolled your eyes.

"I suppose you'll just have to take it one day at a time. Start with these peace treaties. No. Start with just one. One treaty. One doctrine. Then the next." Merlin kissed your forehead.

The day the herald arrived with the news of King Uther’s death you could have sang for joy. Not that you actually did, of course, as that would have been highly insensitive and also improper. As the queen’s ward you were expected to behave with a certain decorum at all times. You weren’t quite at the status of a princess, so you weren’t immune to legal hazards by all means, but common folk wouldn’t dare to challenge your authority either way. Needless to say, you were still excited.

As soon as the herald had delivered his message, plans were drawn up for a grand caravan to Camelot in order to cement new peace treaties with the new king, son of the old. You’d heard wonderful things about the boy, but only hoped he wouldn’t share the same views has his father. Magic was tolerated in your aunt’s kingdom, which made the horrid stories you’d heard about Uther persecuting those with magic all the more awful.

You had expected to stay home and look after the affairs of the court while your aunt was away, being queen and doing important royal things. You had no true power, but Lysa trusted you to get things done all the same. When your aunt informed you to instruct the servants to pack a trunk of your clothes and belongings, you were rightfully confused.

“Aunt Lysa, I don’t understand. Why must I come too?” You asked her, holding the servants from leaving with a gentle gesture of your hand. Lysa sighed and smiled tiredly at you.

“One day you’ll take my place as queen, Y/N. I cannot bear children–frankly, I have no desire to–and you are the only one I could bear to give my kingdom to.”

“But isn’t your cousin supposed to be your heir? Not me, surely!”

“I won’t let my dear cousin Albert within a mile of this crown if I can help it. No, I have had you proclaimed as my heir since your mother passed. I simply never told you because I did not want that burden upon you. As my ward you would receive the same education and knowledge of running a kingdom, so why change your title?” Aunt Lysa’s crow’s feet crinkled as she smiled again.

Your heart nearly stopped. Sure, all your life you knew that you had to grow into your responsibility to lead your aunt’s kingdom, but you’d always assumed that your role would be more behind-the-scenes. You’d assumed you were to be an advisor, standing silently among the wings and disappearing into the background. You’d never imagined having to bear the weight of your Aunt’s crown.

“Me?” You sobbed. “But, auntie–”

“Hush,” she soothed, wrapping her arms around your shoulders in a warm hug, “as of yet I am still young enough. You won’t have to take my place for years to come.”

“For years and years.” You nodded firmly, resting your head on her shoulder.

“While we’re in Camelot, my love, you just remember one thing.” She warned as she stroked your hair.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“No magic.” She said seriously, her voice taking on a somber tone. You nodded sadly. Your education as the queen’s ward had covered everything from maths and sciences, to interrelationships between kingdoms, and, yes, magic too. You weren’t very good at it, but you often found it convenient to light candles with only a wave of your hand.

How stern could a king be to forbid such time-saving devices?

—

Aunt Lysa wasted no time in preparing travel plans for herself and you in order to reach Camelot as soon as possible. She’d assumed that many other kingdoms would be trying to do the same and renew their treaties as well, so the earlier the better. She sent the herald back on his way to make sure Camelot’s new King knew you were coming.

Your trunk had been packed and loaded onto the carriage and you and your aunt disembarked. It was a comfortable journey to Camelot; only a few days in the slow bumbling carriage. It was capable in a day or so on horseback. You soon grew accustomed to the lazy rocking and jostling of the carriage. You and your aunt spent most of the trip in silence; you figured that she had a lot on her mind and thought it best not to disturb her.

As soon as you arrived, you threw back the curtains to look out the window, admiring Camelot’s citadel and it’s tall spires caressing the clouds. Much of the court was outside to celebrate your arrival. You looked to your aunt and found that she was at ease, relaxed into her chair. Right before she was to step out of the carriage and greet the people, she pulled her crown out from her bag and placed it carefully atop her curls. You always marveled at how she was very nearly a completely different person with her crown on than without. You were able to watch the transformation right in front of your eyes.

She stepped out of the carriage and you heard a smattering of cheers, and perhaps a trumpet or two. You lingered in the carriage as you knew your job was not to be seen nor heard. Tugging lightly at a loose thread on the curtain, you watched out the window as Camelot’s king, a young fair-haired man you recalled being named Arthur, kissed her hand. He was very graceful and poised for one you knew was an adept warrior. You were just musing on how fighting was actually a very graceful skill when you heard your aunt’s voice floating over towards you.

“Let me introduce my ward and heir, Y/N…” she told the king, gesturing back towards the carriage. You jumped up, terribly surprised, treading momentarily on your gown and cursing under your breath.

“Hello.” You said breathlessly as your toes hit the ground. Aunt Lysa shot you a chastising look as you forgot your decorum. “Your highness.” You added hastily.

Arthur reached to kiss your hand as well and you blushed. How did your aunt do this? All of the propriety and rules made you want to rip your fancy dress off and waltz off onto the woods somewhere and become a hermit. You’d heard rather fond stories of one who lived completely isolated from all human contact.

That sounded divine.

You could feel the eyes of the court boring holes into you, and you kept your eyes demurely on the floor. Quick! Say something witty!

“Thank you for welcoming us to your lovely home–kingdom!” You sputtered, wincing as it came out. That was awkward. Arthur seemed to be watching you with a mixture of curiosity and pity. Your face flushed and you refocused your gaze onto the toes of your boots. They were slightly scuffed, as one might expect from actually walking and running in shoes, rather than sitting still all day like your aunt had hoped you would.

After more formal introductions and a whole lot of dignified compliments, a servant led you to your chambers. He said to merely notify the guard outside in the hall of you needed anything at all. You smiled and thanked him, turning on your heel to explore your rooms. They were very comfortably furnished and you were surprised to find that your belongings had already been brought up.

The elegantly plush four poster bed called to you. Oh, how you longed to dive into the soft blankets and pillows and ignore the world outside! You sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, running your hands over the soft comforter. Later. Yes, you would sleep later.

A knock on the door disturbed you from your thoughts. It was just a serving girl, who let herself in quietly. She was carrying an armful of goods, which she quickly deposited on the table.

“Good day, my lady.” She smiled politely. “The Queen Lysa has sent me to prepare you for the feast tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary–”

“The queen has insisted.” She smiled apologetically, almost as if she knew you were going to say that. “Sit.” She commanded gently, and you moved to the chair that she’d set out.

The serving girl was certainly experienced in her ways. It didn’t take very long at all before you hair was tied back in an elegant and sweeping updo, your face was painted with all sorts of sweet-smelling cosmetics, and you were nearly ready to put on your gown.

The serving girl seemed to produce one out of thin air. You had never seen it before, but it was certainly gorgeous and fit you well. From what you could surmise, it seemed like it was a gift from King Arthur. How he’d known your measurements was beyond you. Once you were laced in and nearly couldn’t breath, you were dismissed to go and find your aunt.

You ran into her in the hallway. She was dressed very much the same as you, just in a different color. Without saying a word, she smiled and took your arm with an air of motherly comfort she always seemed to exude around you. Arm in arm, you entered the ballroom to waves of applause. Your breath was nearly ripped from your chest.

You’d never seen so much splendor and magnificence together in one room. Richly decorated tapestries draped the walls, shining tiles on the floors. The people, too, were spectacularly dressed, whirling around and preening like birds of paradise. The buzz of laughter and gossip filled the room like a haze on a humid summer afternoon, languid and sticky. Lysa’s fuss all made sense now. You fit right in among them with your jeweled hair and flowing gown.

When Arthur swept in to the hall, his red cape swinging mightily behind him, a silence dropped into every mouth. He smiled at your Aunt, once more welcoming her and thanking her for coming. Your eyes wandered around the room, your mind traveling with it.

Arthur continued speaking for what felt like eons, but not a single word registered in your mind. When the audience began applauding, you did too, mimicking their excitement. It was simply all too overwhelming. Lysa’s kingdom was a small one; you rarely found yourself surrounded by such a large and diverse group of people. It was all so interesting.

Lysa was seated at Arthur’s right hand. You, along with much of the rest of the upper court, took the table to the side where you could overlook both the royals there and the rest of the ballroom. Unfortunately, the gentleman next to you was far too chatty for your liking, talking your ear off and taking your hand in his when he mentioned his lack of wife. You politely excused yourself from the table, saying you needed some air.

That was definitely true.

Upon your return, you were relieved to see that said gentleman was entertaining some poor man on his other side with stories of what you could only guess to be battle glory. Based off of his portly figure and sunken-in features, they must have been ancient stories. You giggled a little to yourself and took your seat quickly to make sure not to disturb him from his story.

The night dragged on and you picked at the food on your plate. It was all delicious and expertly served, of course, but you simply had no desire to eat it. Being in a strange place so far from home made you uncomfortable, and your appetite was affected.

Taking your fork and nudging a piece of potato around your plate, allowing your mind to wander far and wide. You entertained yourself with thoughts of returning home. You pondered what you’d do first. Perhaps you’d head down to the stables and go riding into the meadows and thickets, with nothing but the breeze as your guide and fortune as your master. The thought of being in the warm open air rather than this drafty ballroom entranced you greatly. You could nearly feel the sun on your face and the winds whipping your hair around as a plaything.

Abrupt screaming broke you from your daydream. You looked up to see a hooded, shadowy figure scream something in a sharp, guttural tongue and gesture its hands towards your aunt. She recoiled as if struck by a sword. Her chair was flung backwards and she was thrown like a ragdoll across the ballroom. Your heart nearly stopped and you jumped to your feet, pushing a table out of the way to make it to her side.

“Aunt Lysa!” You screeched, trying to fling yourself forward to protect her, to save her, to cover her frail body with your own. Strong arms held you back, corded around your waist and entrapping your arms by your side. You thrashed against them; Aunt Lysa needed you! Your eyes blurred with tears and your throat burned from the ragged sobs that escaped your lips.

The same arms that held you back slowly drew you backwards. You turned to see a black haired servant pulling you away from the fray without taking his eyes off of your aunt. His eyes glinted golden in the firelight. Armored guards surrounded your aunt and hurried her away. You screamed after them. Lysa shouldn’t be taken anywhere without you! You needed her! How were you supposed to do anything without her there? The once peaceful banquet hall had turned into a madhouse. Servants and guests alike raced about, seemingly searching for safety and comfort.

In the chaos, you trod again on the hem of your gown and tripped, legs becoming tangled in the layers of fabric. Your head cracked sharply along a table and the world faded out, pain blossoming until it had taken over and become everything. Physical pain, yes, but also emotional pain. Aunt Lysa was… Was…

It was as if you were in a dream.

Not a dream, no. That implies a certain sense of joy and carefree bliss. A nightmare. It was as if you were trapped in a nightmare. Time seemed to creep along, dragging each prolonged second out until you couldn’t bear it any longer. The skies were grey and the birds were quiet, as if they, too, knew that something was disturbed, something was unwell. There was something wretched in the heart of Camelot.

Gaius had sought you out while you were in the kitchens. He told you that Morgana had been poisoned and you nearly swooned. The very thought that someone would want to poison as dear a friend as Morgana was to you took the breath from your lungs and courage from your heart. You raced to her bedside, where you had scantly left for hours.

Your legs had long since gone numb; your arms weighted down with aching soreness. Gaius was not hopeful for her recovery, but he did everything he could to make her comfortable. You helped by changing her cool compress every half-hour and keeping a constant watch. Gaius was a busy man; he had other patients to tend to. You could be trusted to stay with her.

As the hours past your heart sank. The poison she had received was strong enough to kill a horse, and she was not faring well. Her pale skin seemed nearly translucent, and as you watched the soft rise and fall of her chest it seemed as if she were slowly disintegrating. Whether or not there was any fight left in her frail body, you knew not.

Perhaps you had dozed off, perhaps you were trapped within your own thoughts, but Merlin startled you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice was hoarse as if he’d been screaming. You lifted your hand to set it over his where it was on your shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

“I don’t know,” you decided after a short silence, “what about you?”

Merlin sighed heavily, pulling his hand from yours to rub with his fists at his dry eyes. While his face was covered, he spoke.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. Can we step outside?” He lowered his hands and tangled them in his tunic. You watched as Merlin’s eyes kept nervously flashing between you and Morgana’s eerily still body. You raised an eyebrow, loath to leave your friend alone on her deathbed.

“Yes, alright.” You decided warily, brushing a strand of hair out of her face before standing up and following Merlin out in the hall.

“Now, what’s all the fuss about–” you began to ask, wondering what on earth could possibly be more important than your friend’s life.

“I poisoned her.” The words tumbled out before Merlin could stop them.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your heart leapt in your chest: not from joy, from fear.

“I-I poisoned her. Morgana.” Merlin’s throat was dry. He swallowed hard once, twice, but it didn’t help.

“I-I don’t understand.” You heart stopped. Surely it was a misunderstanding. Merlin couldn’t have poisoned Morgana, could he?

“I had to.”

“I trusted you!” You were blinded by such an inconceivable rage. You scarcely knew what sort of words were rolling of your tongue, but they came directly from your soul. You had always considered Merlin a friend! A kind and loving person, who cared for his friends more than anything. He’d gladly give his life up for any one of them. Where was THAT Merlin? Where did he go?

“I know–”

“How could you? She was our friend! She had been nothing but kind to you and I, and this is how you repay it?” Merlin had betrayed you. He had tricked you into earning his trust and then turned around and smashed it, taking the broken pieces and slicing you with them. You had been betrayed! Who was this man in front of you? You didn’t know him any longer.

“But it was her destiny to–”

“Destiny! You know as well as I do that destiny isn’t written in stone. Maybe if you’d tried to help her, maybe if you’d stood up for what you believe in, maybe then you could have made things better instead of so much worse.”

“Y/N, listen–”

“No! You listen to me, /emrys/! You don’t know anything! You don’t know what hate does to a person. Morgana was raised to hate magic. How do you think she felt when she found out she had it? Can you even imagine the fear and self-loathing that was consuming her? Can you?” You took a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart. Merlin did not try to speak again.

“She’s only a human, Merlin,” you said softly, “no one is entirely good or entirely evil. She only did what she thought was right. I can’t believe what you’ve done.”

“Y/N.” Merlin said softly. You watched out of the corner of your eye as his hand outstretched to meet you, to touch you, to comfort you. You were gladdened when he pulled away, revolted at the idea of him touching you. Would he try to kill you as well? What was stopping him?

“Leave.” You barked.

Merlin did not move.

“Did you not hear me? I said leave.”

He quietly turned on his heel and left, his footsteps padding down the hall and getting softer and softer as he got further away. Only when you could no longer hear him did you feel like you could finally breathe again, like there was no vice-like grip on your body. You retreated back into Morgana’s chambers and locked the door, tucking the key safely inside your chemise.

You sat and resumed your watch, seemingly turning off your brain and forbidding all thoughts of the traitor Merlin. Instead you focused on Morgana.

Your fingers curled protectively over her hand. Her skin was cold and tinted slightly blue, veins starkly purple underneath; you feared she was dying. Holding her hand, minutes ticked into hours as you held constant vigil. Her breathing slowed to a point where you could scarcely see the movement of her chest. Every so often, a cold fear struck into your heart that you would soon lose a dear friend. The feeling clenched tightly in your chest and prevented you from breathing properly. It was during these times that you could do nothing but hold her hand and rest your forehead on hers, eyes squeezed shut so tears wouldn’t fall onto her milky skin.

It was the middle of the night when she passed. You were hunched over her bed, on the restless plateau between wakefulness and sleep. She drew a shuddering breath–the most movement you’d seen from her in hours–and released it like a sigh. Her eyes were closed; she looked almost peaceful. The candle on her bedside flickered and you knew she was gone.

After everything that had happened, after everything you’d gone through, she was gone. A tear fell from your eye and dropped onto her cheek. You brushed it away gently, quiet fury rising within. Merlin did this to her. This is what he wanted. Bile rose in your throat and once again you couldn’t breath.

Those lips would never smile again, never tease, never laugh. Her eyes wouldn’t glimmer playfully, nor glare half-heartedly at your foolish antics. You’d never hear her voice so long as you lived. Was there even a point to you living any longer? You wondered.

As you gazed down at her, it pained you how sickly and frail her body appeared. Her hair was matted and tangled on one side, her sleeping clothes sweaty and lank. You felt that now it was your purpose to give her a proper send off.

Peeling back the sheets and blankets, you carefully moved her so that you could wash her hair and clean her body. You took special care to use only her favorite things: the hair comb she saved only for special occasions, the bath soap she preferred above the others. As you toweled her hair dry and combed it through you were achingly reminded of how you did this exact same when she was still alive. You simply braided her hair and redressed her in her favorite silk gown, laying her on the bed with her hands folded neatly on her stomach.

She looked like an angel, you observed, feeling a pang of pride. There as only one thing left you could do for her now.

—

As the sun set over the rolling hills and forests of the countryside, you had carefully placed Morgana into her pyre, arranging her hair and clothes where they’d gotten mussed up. At the last moment, you produced a paring knife and took a small lock of the back of her hair, binding it with a red ribbon to always remind you of her. You tucked the hair into your pouch and looked over the scene in front of you.

It was late fall, and the gorgeous foliage burned in bright reds and oranges, reflecting across the dappled water. Morgana would have loved it, you thought sadly. It was time to let her go. You kissed her forehead, shocked and saddened to find her skin colder. It was time.

As you pushed the vessel away to send it down the river, you felt a warm presence at your side. A playful wind tossed your hair around, giggling in your ear. You touched the tip of your arrow to the small fire you’d built on the river bank, taking careful aim before loosing it. You watched it sail through the air and embed itself deeply in the side of the boat. The pyre immediately ignited, smoke rising to the heavens.

“Thank you.” You heard Morgana’s voice, carried on the wind through the air, lapping with the waves on the shore, rustling through the trees with the birds, and inside your very heart.

 The feast of the Winter Solstice was, in your opinion, the least festive of any of the festivals of the entire year. Not only was it dark and dreary the entire day, but the festivities took on a somber tone as well. You hated gathering around to listen to everyone tell stories of great defeats in battle, of love lost and never regained, of death and disease and despair. 

 You honestly hated it. 

For this reason, a week before this year’s feast of the solstice, Merlin told you to pack a traveling bag and ready a horse. Though it was bitterly cold outside, you were flushed with excitement. You threw a bunch of clothing in together as well as some food you’d sneaked from the kitchens. Meeting Merlin down in the stables, he wouldn’t tell you where you were going until you got there.

 Traveling side by side in the eerie forest, you and Merlin made good time. He’d cast an enchantment over your horses so that nothing would trip their hooves or cross their paths. Even the bitter cold and suffocating darkness was lessened; Merlin conjured up a ball of warm yellow light that floated ahead of you and guided your path. 

 "Where are we going?“ You constantly pestered Merlin. Every time in response you would get nothing but a chuckle and a quiet "you’ll see.”

 Finally you arrived. You didn’t know it until Merlin slowed his horse to a standstill and dismounted. Merlin had taken you to… the middle of a forest? You raised an eyebrow but questioned nothing, quickly getting off your own horse and petting her velvet nose. 

 "Where are we?“ You asked, breath forming clouds of white in the air. The ball of light Merlin produced had dissipated into nothing, and you felt the effects of the evening chill immediately.  

"The crystal cave.” Merlin said proudly. You gasped, having heard of it only in legends and your wildest dreams. Merlin led the horses into the cave’s little antechamber-like structure, where they’d be warm and sheltered. He fed them and let them drink the water bubbling from one of the many freshwater springs found inside. He took you by the hand and led you around an impressive rock formation and into the heart of the crystal cave. 

 Your breath was quite literally pulled from your chest. Along the ceiling, walls, and floor, there was nothing but gorgeous, glittering crystal. You felt the power from the magic in the air, and it flooded through your bones and reinvigorated you after the long journey.  

“Come over here.” Merlin told you, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you towards one of the smaller crystals near the roof of the cave. 

“Look inside.” He pointed. As you watched, the smooth and clear surface of the crystal bubbled to life. It showed Camelot on a warm summer’s day. As you looked closer, the image changed. It was you and Merlin, together, playing in the meadow. You blinked and it changed again. You and Merlin were kissing under the shade of a great oak tree. Again, it changed, flickering faster and faster through images of you and Merlin together, happy, and safe.

 "Does the crystals really show the future?“ You asked breathlessly.

 "A possibility of it, yes,” Merlin replied, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. 

 "Merlin?“ 

 "Hm?” He replied. You gently twisted in his arms to face him, kissing him slowly. You had all the time in the world, after all. Your futures were intertwined.

 You knew Merlin was going to ask you to marry him.

 You loved him with all your heart, but, sometimes, he could be rather thick headed. You were tidying up Gaius’s chambers as a favor for him when you found a beautifully carved ornate little ring with a stone in your favorite color delicately inlaid. You didn’t need to be a scholar to know it was an engagement ring. You didn’t want to pressure Merlin into asking you to marry him before he was ready, so you kept it secret. 

However, you arranged an audience with your stepfather to receive his blessing first. Weddings were always a grand affair in your family, and you had hoped that your family would be as big of a part of your wedding as Merlin was. However, your stepfather’s reaction to your imminent engagement was one you neither expected nor desired.

 "I will never have anyone within my household marry a servant, of all things!“ He sneered when you told him of Merlin’s identity.

 "Stepfather, Merlin is so much more than just a servant. Listen to me–" 

 "No! You listen, girl! When your mother died she left you in my charge. It’s my responsibility to uphold this family and I absolutely forbid you from marrying that man!” He snarled, growing red in the face.

“I don’t need your permission!” You hissed in response. “I’ll marry him of my own accord. He loves me and he’ll take me as I am, with a dowry or not." 

 Your stepfather calmly sighed, which terrified you more than you could imagine. What was stirring beneath his clear brown eyes? What storms lay beneath? 

 "It is true,” he said, “you do not need my blessing to marry your love." 

 "I don’t.” You sharply agreed.

 "But this Merlin needs yours.“ He said, quickly muttering an incantation and flinging a spell in your direction. You felt the force and heat of it like the sun on a hot day, suffocating you from the outside in. You were quickly brought down to your knees, coughing and retching. 

 "We’ll see how easy a marriage is when a bride can say nothing but "no,” to her husband.“ He grinned wickedly, leaving you alone.

 From that moment on, anticipation of your betrothal turned from joyful to dreaded. You avoided Merlin as much as you could, hoping to break your stepfather’s spell before you had to spurn his advances forever against your will.

 Your efforts were all in vain, however, when Merlin cornered you in a stairwell. You were delighted to see him, but there was an aching in your heart that wept at his presence. You know that each and every word you would try to say would become "no” the moment it left your lips. 

 "Y/N, will you marry me?“ Merlin asked nervously without preamble, reaching his hand around to wrap tightly around your own. Your heart swelled and you willed your mind to overpower the spell, to scream to the heavens "yes, with all my heart, yes!” Rather, the magic held your tongue and forced a single word out instead.

 "No.“ You whispered, a tear rolling down your face. 

 "No?” Merlin blinked. He was clearly confused. “But, Y/N, I thought you loved me." 

 "No.” You squeaked, eyes blurring with tears. At least, this way, you wouldn’t see the hurt on Merlin’s face. 

 "Y/N? Are you okay?“ His voice soothed your ears. 

 "No, no, no!” You shook your head vigorously. Merlin tentatively pressed his fingers to your lips. “I can feel the traces of a magic here. Were you cursed?” He asked in a low voice, eyebrows raised. 

 "No!“ You grinned wildly. He understood! Could Merlin break the curse? Pressing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, he murmured a spell and you felt a pleasant heat and light coursing through your body, the exact opposite of your stepfather’s spell. 

 "Will you marry me?” He asked again, hopeful as ever.

 "No.“ You told him firmly. 

 "What?” Merlin’s eyes were wide with terror. 

Reigning as Queen of Camelot, you were often overwhelmed at the sheer amount of duties and responsibilities on your shoulders. You had no idea how Arthur managed it all, but somehow he did and was able to teach you along the way. The daughter of a wealthy merchant, you never expected to one day be a part of the nobility, but you certainly enjoyed many aspects of the lifestyle that came with being a royal. 

 Other things, however, you didn't care for as much. Such as reporting on taxes and the trade of the land. Though you were well versed in all sorts of commerce, the subject itself was tedious and dull. You had been reporting the month's quotas and statistics to Arthur when you realized that he, for one, wasn't listening to a word you were saying. He was, for lack of a better term, completely ignoring you as he stated blankly at some document.

"Arthur." You snapped, placing your hands on your hips and furrowing your brows. 

 "What?" He snapped to attention.

 "Why are you ignoring me?" 

 "I'm not, I'm just...busy. I don't know, Y/N. I'm busy."

 "Stop ignoring me, Arthur." 

 "I do not ignore you." He said, blatantly lying as he stared intently at the parchment between his fingers.

 "You ignore me all the time!" You raised your voice, taking on a shrill undertone. 

 "I do not!" He replied, fists clenching. You watched as his fingers ripped at the delicate parchment paper, crinkling it beyond repair. 

 "Yes, you do." You retorted. "You're ignoring me now!" 

 "It just so happens that I have an entire kingdom to run, and you don't! I am the king and you don't matter!" 

 "I don't matter?" You scoffed, "for all I care, you're nothing more than a beggar. A bastard!" Arthur snapped then, slamming the parchment down on his desk. He whirled around and his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you until your back was to the wall and there was nothing in front of you but Arthur. He pressed his entire body against yours, effectively trapping you against the wall. His fingers were at your throat.

 "I... could have you hanged for treason for saying that." He said in a low voice, a dangerous voice. You were forced to meet his eye, and you steeled your gaze and hardened your tone. 

 "You tell me that you love me at night, but in the morning I don't exist. I am your queen, but you are a bastard." You spat, lifting your chin in defiance. 

"Liar!" He fumed, his fingers tightening. Never once you felt as though you couldn't breath, but you were bloody terrified. You'd seen Arthur kill with his bare hands before, but never before thought he'd ever harm you.

 "Tell me, Arthur, do you even care about me?" You clenched your fists, your voice nearly a sob. 

 "I love you." He whispered, barely a sound coming out. Arthur slid his hand from your throat to tangle in your hair. 

 "I can't hear you." You told him matter-of-factly.

 "I love you, Y/N." Arthur confessed, burying his face into the crook of your neck and biting your earlobe. 

 "Oh, you bastard." You said once more, smirking. That prompted the response you'd been hoping for, and again you were pushed back into the wall. This time, however, it was Arthur's mouth that held you captive, hot and searing on your lips. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you tight and close. When he pulled away, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, noses brushing.

 "Y/N, I am so, so sorry if I frightened you. I lost control. I promise, I will never, ever hurt you." 

 "I forgive you, your highness." 

 "Allow me to show how sorry I am, my queen." Arthur proposed, grinning devilishly. 

Watching from a safe distance, Gwen and Arthur observed you and Merlin trying to avoid each other. Perhaps that wasn’t the right way to say it. Every time you saw each other, you were eager to say hello and make each other’s acquaintance, but after a few seconds you’d both dart shyly away, as if afraid.

“They’re so in love it would be obvious to a blind man.” Arthur sighed. “I don’t think can watch any more of this.”

“They’re in love but they don’t do anything about it. It’s just so sad!” Gwen agreed.

In the distance, you looked over your shoulder at Merlin, smiled, and then quickly turned away. When he came over to talk to you, you hurried somewhere else, pretending to have an urgent task. It was driving Gwen insane. Day in and day out, she listened to you gush about Merlin. While he was, truly, a wonderful person, it was obvious that you were head over heels for him.

It was the same for Arthur. Every day, Merlin had the same dreamy look on his face. Every day when he asked what was wrong, Merlin always claimed that everything was fine. However, Arthur knew the look of a man in love and pitied the poor manservant. Merlin had it bad.

“Y'know, I’m afraid of what will happen if they don’t do something soon.”

“I bet we can do something to fix it, what do you think?”

“Absolutely.”

Arthur smiled mischievously.

—

“Arthur, I don’t understand, what are you doing?” Merlin asked, trying in vain to keep the burly knight from manhandling him. Arthur had walked into his room, taken him by the elbow, and quite literally dragged him wherever they were going.

“I’m doing something I should have done a long time ago, mate.” He said brusquely, tugging Merlin’s elbow harder as he struggled to keep up.

“Where are we going?” He asked, nearly tripping once more. Merlin watched as Arthur rolled his eyes and walked even faster.

“You’ll see. Now hurry up.”

—

“Y/N, could you help me with something?” Gwen asked innocently. You were in the middle of reading a book but you gladly obliged, always ready to help a friend.

Gwen led you away from the castle and into the forest. As you walked, Gwen suddenly stopped.

“My earring!” She cried. “I must have dropped it. You go on ahead, Y/N, it’s just in the clearing up ahead. I’ll go back to look for it and then meet you there, okay? Go to the clearing!”

“Okay, good luck.” You told her, continuing on the path. When you found the clearing, you pushed through the undergrowth to find a beautiful meadow with a Pendragon red blanket and a beautiful basket set out for a picnic. It was then you realized that Gwen hadn’t lost her earring at all. She had sent you here for a reason.

“What’s did you plan, Gwen?” You wondered aloud, observing the luncheon on the grass. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

“Y/N!” You heard Merlin behind you. Flushing, you whirled around to face him.

“Merlin! I–” you stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“Arthur sent me. I think he and Gwen set this up. To get us together.” He explained nervously. Suddenly feeling a little burst of courage in his chest, Merlin offered you his hand. He gestured to the picnic foods arranged out in front of you “Share it with me?”

“Y-yes, of course.” Both you and Merlin sunk into the plush blanket, and he produced a plate of fruits and bread, passing them over to you.

You nerves were soon forgotten and you and Merlin talked and laughed over lunch. By the end, you were both smiling and sated, laying back on the blankets and looking at the sky.

“Look at that cloud! It looks like a horse.” You pointed, tracing your finger across the sky. Merlin reached up and intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hand to his lips.

“It looks like a horse pulling a carriage.” He added. “Look there.”

You turned your head to look at him, letting your hand cup his face. Slowly, you moved towards him so that your bodies were flush together. Forehead to forehead, his nose brushed yours and you paused, breathing for a moment.

Merlin hesitantly pressed his lips to yours, slowly and lightly. You responded by kissing him back, surprising him. Merlin pulled away and you frowned, but when you opened your eyes you found him grinning at you.

“What is it?” You sat up.

“I love you.” He said, pushing himself to a seated position and throwing his arm around your waist.

“I love you, too.”

Your life as the crown princess of Camelot was quite routine. Each morning you would wake up, have breakfast delivered to your room, and then spend the day trailing after Arthur and attending lessons of your own. The day would end with the two of you in his chambers sitting by the fire, chatting and laughing over a goblet of spiced wine. Your favorite part, however, came after Arthur had bid you goodnight.

Or when you could sneak away from an embroidery lesson to meet Merlin in an empty stairwell.

Or when Arthur and the knights were distracted by training and you and Merlin could rendezvous in the armory.

Or when… well, you get the idea.

The sun had just set, leaving the world longing for its heat. A chill had set over the land, and you supposed that the first frost of the season would soon be upon the fields. You were suddenly very thankful for your wool blankets and, of course, your bedwarmer.

You, Merlin, and Arthur were gathered around the fire, with Arthur between the two of you. Your gaze kept sliding across your brother to tease the manservant on his opposite side. From innocently dipping your finger in your wine and sucking the ruby liquid off of it to ‘accidentally’ letting your bodice slide off one shoulder, you were slowly driving Merlin to the brink of madness.

He kept shifting in his seat, and you could tell he was trying to alleviate the growing tightness in his trousers. You smirked at him, fully intent on torturing him for as long as you could. Arthur, all the while oblivious, chartered idly about the Knights, about the crops, about your father.

“Arthur, my brother dearest, I’m absolutely exhausted.” You told him, rubbing at your eyes for effect. “We must continue our conversation on the morrow.”

“Very well,” he said, finishing his goblet of wine. “Merlin, if you would, please escort my sister back to her chambers.” Arthur waved him away. Merlin’s eyes flickered towards yours and they glinted with mischief. And revenge.

“Of course, sire.” He replied, almost as if he were bored by the whole thing. Merlin was a wonderful actor; Arthur didn’t suspect a thing.

“Shall we then, Merlin?” You asked, not quite as patient as the manservant. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Goodnight.” You called back to Arthur over your shoulder. Merlin offered you his arm and you ran from the room with him in tow. As soon as you returned to your own chambers and locked the door behind you, you found your back against the wall, with an unamused manservant pressing heavily against you.

“You’re such a bloody tease.” He growled into your ear, one hand snaking into your hair. Merlin gave a good tug and your head was forced backwards. A breathy laugh escaped from your throat.

“Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy it.” You sighed as his lips traced down from your jawline to the top of your cleavage. Merlin lightly ran his teeth over the smooth skin there and you shivered.

“I wanted to take you right there in Arthur’s chambers. To tear your clothes off and–”

“Merlin! Arthur’s my brother; that’s disgusting!” You feigned horror. Merlin chuckled, grinning.

“I didn’t say he’d be in the room! I’d kick him out, use my magic on him the way I do–” You decided that his mouth would be better put to use in other ways, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him firmly, letting your thumbs brush over his cheekbones, eyelids, jawline. Merlin’s lips were soft, pliant as he gently took your lower lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth and letting his tongue play with yours. He tugged again at your hair, manipulating you until your lips were just were he wanted them, kissing you long and deep until you nearly forgot your own name.

His hands crept under your skirts and fingertips dug in to the soft skin of your thighs. Merlin lifted you off the ground and your legs wound around his waist, feeling him pressing in at your center. He carried you to the bed, all the while snogging you senseless. Suddenly you were thrown back, and you let out a shriek as Merlin climbed atop you, shedding clothes as he went. Your fingers were eager to touch every inch of skin he uncovered as he mouthed at your breasts.

“Gods, you’re insatiable.” You moaned, dragging your hands down his back and tracing over each of the firm muscles you found there. Merlin chuckled and nipped at your ear, his breath warm on your throat.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He said, cupping your ass in his hands and grinding his hips down onto yours.

“It’s not–oh!” You gasped as Merlin sucked a dark purple mark to the side of your throat.

“Merlin!” You scolded. “Arthur might see.”

“Let him.” He said, his voice gruff. “Let him see that you’re mine.”

He grinned devilishly against your skin, his deft fingers pulling the laces to your gown apart. You’d purposely chosen one of your simplest gowns, that was all one piece and laced up in the front. Merlin eagerly pushed the fabric off your shoulders and tossed it away. His hands kneaded your breasts, pinching at your nipples until they were pert and hard.

His hands and mouth worked their way down, pausing a moment to worship your stomach, your hips, then your thighs. Everywhere but where you wanted him most. Bucking your hips, you whined.

“Merlin!”

But that bloody bastard did nothing but grin and hold your hips down. You raked your fingers through his hair and you both were soon lost to oblivion and ecstasy.

The next morning, you woke up to find Merlin staring lovingly down at you. Your head was pillowed on his bare chest, an arm thrown here and a leg thrown there. The two of you were entirely tangled up in each other. Nothing else mattered.

“Good morning.” He murmured, his voice gruff.

“Morning.” You yawned, sleepily laying a kiss on the center of his breastbone. Merlin’s hand carded through your hair and you nestled back into him. An odd thought struck him and he chuckled lightly.

“Do you think Arthur’ll ever suspect anything?” Merlin speculated, tracing his fingertips down your spine.

“No,” you wrinkled your nose, “he’s got such a thick head I don’t think he’d notice even if we snogged right in front of him.”

Merlin paused then, carefully kissing the bridge of your nose.

“I’d be willing to try it.” He grinned teasingly, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Arthur would kill you and I’m not risking your neck and your pretty little arse.” You deadpanned.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty.” Merlin cooed.

“Merlin!” You pounded on his door. Ever since Arthur, as king, had legalized magic and proclaimed Merlin his court sorcerer, he’d been given his own chambers away from Gaius’s. You always felt it odd now seeking him in such a strange place. Merlin wasn’t quite used to the change either; you could tell.

“Open up! I need your help!” You knocked again. You had been working on a spell that would keep fires burning for hours without needing to add more wood, but you kept messing it up somehow. Certainly it wasn’t supposed to explode after thirty seconds!

The man that answered the door was not, in fact, Merlin, but Gwaine. Your face split in to a broad grin to see him there, heart pounding. You’d always had more than a little crush on Gwaine, and it wasn’t just his bawdy jokes that made you blush.

“You’ll wake up the whole castle if you keep shouting like that, sweetheart.” Gwaine smirked, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hello Gwaine, it’s nice to see you,” you smiled, kissing his cheek. The scruff of his beard was ever so slightly rough under your lips.

“Oh, there you are, Merlin.” You said. Merlin, seated at his new desk over by the window, spared you a wave as he furiously scribbled down something or other on a scrap of parchment.

“Morning, Y/N. What do you need help with?”

You looked around, trying to think of a way to best phrase your answer. Merlin’s new chambers were far different from Gaius’s, yet still had the same homey feel. He had spell books lining the walls and a rather impressive cauldron bubbling in the fireplace. You could feel the magic coursing through the room and exciting the magic in your blood. Suddenly reminded of why you came, you crossed over to the fireplace and inspected the cauldron on the fire.

“How often do you need to replenish the wood in the fire?” You asked, prodding the flames with the poker. To your surprise, it was Gwaine who was quick to answer.

“Merlin has me add another log every hour or two, or whenever it gets cold.” He told you, gesturing to the woodbox he kept full. You nodded, brushing the soot from your hands.

“See, I’m trying to come up with a spell that will keep fires burning longer and hotter, without having to add more logs.”

“Brilliant.” Gwaine said, his eyes sparkling. Merlin folded his parchment and tossed it aside.

“That’s my clever girl,” he said, standing to give you a hug.

“Well, sort of,” you mumbled into his shirt as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hm?” Merlin hummed beside you. You could feel the vibrations running through his chest and you giggled.

“Well, I haven’t quite gotten it to work yet. It burns for a little bit and then poof. Everything goes up in flames–metaphorically and literally.” You explained, gesticulating wildly with your hands. “I just can’t figure it out.”

As you were swinging your arms about, Gwaine gently caught your wrists and held them down.

“Careful, love. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” He said in a low voice, dragging his thumb over the inside of your wrist. You flushed, noticing just how close in proximity the two of you were.

“Gwaine, I…” your breath left your body as a soft sigh when you felt Merlin’s body at your back, his hands resting on your hips. Gwaine released your wrists only to bring his hands up to cup your face. Your eyes closed as you felt a pair of lips trace your jawline. Was it Gwaine or Merlin? You couldn’t tell and, honestly, you loved them both so you didn’t care. It wasn’t until the gravity of the situation hit you that you spoke up.

“Wait! Gwaine, wait! Wait, Merlin! Stop. You’re both wonderful, wonderful, people, but I can only pick one of you, can’t I?” You asked them sadly, breaking apart from their caresses.

“Actually, you don’t have to.” Gwaine said cheerily. Merlin smiled knowingly at him.

“What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“Sir Y/N, do you need any help with your armor?” Merlin’s hands were on your shoulders as you struggled with one of the fastenings. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest and you merely nodded, letting Merlin’s skilled hands take over.

“Merlin, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me Y/N?” You said, glancing over your shoulder at the manservant. He sheepishly grinned, shrugging as he tightened the strap on your breastplate.

“At least once more, sire.” Merlin smirked, patting your shoulder as soon as he was finished. “There. Another one of Camelot’s gallant knights, ready to save the day.” He joked.

“Thank you, Merlin.” You said sincerely, hoping that there wasn’t a telltale blush on your face. You hurriedly tied the laces on your boots and left for the armory. When you arrived, a much less friendly face was there to greet you.

“You look like a lovesick little girl.” Sir Galahad commented, raising an eyebrow as he sheathed his sword.

“Really?” You sighed, wiping your face as if that would somehow help. Reaching to retrieve your sword, you sighed heavily.

“Absolutely, sire.” He mocked, using the exact same tone Merlin did, but with none of the humor or charm.

You clenched your jaw, but said nothing in response. After all, that would only goad him on.

“Besides, Merlin could never love you back,” Galahad scoffed, looking you over from head to toe, as if examining. You scowled and folded your arms.

“What makes you say that?”

“For one, you’re a pathetic excuse for a knight. Everyone knows it.”

Huffing, you sheathed your sword and headed out for the training fields brusquely, leaving Galahad alone in the armory to his snickers and snide comments.

And if you trained harder than usual that day, who was Galahad to judge?

—

Naturally, your first stop after training was a visit to Gaius. You had managed to pull a muscle in your shoulder during sword work and wanted something for the pain. After all, you were on guard duty tonight. If anything were to happen, you wanted to be able to prove yourself a worthy knight.

As a regular visiter, you let yourself into the physician’s chambers without knocking. Surprisingly, Gaius wasn’t there, but Merlin was. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and you couldn’t help but admire his forearms. You cleared your throat awkwardly and forced yourself to look away.

“Oh, hey, Y/N.” Merlin said brightly, grinning as he saw you. You smiled in response, but were immediately reminded of Galahad’s stern words. Merlin was just being friendly, you reminded yourself. He couldn’t possibly feel that way about you.

“Hey, Merlin. Is Gaius around? I messed up my shoulder during training,” you explained, “I just need something for the pain. I think it’s the blue bottle that Gaius always uses.”

“What did you do?” He asked, rising from his chair. “I think I should take a look at it before prescribing anything. Can you take your shirt off, please?”

You felt a rush of blood drain straight from your head and into your cock. Merlin was nothing if not pleasant, and they way he looked expectantly up at you made your chest ache.

“Yeah, sure.” You feigned nonchalance, pulling your tunic up over your head. Hissing as you stretched your shoulder, you tossed your shirt aside and let Merlin lead you to one of the patient beds. You sat on the edge and clasped your hands together in your lap.

Merlin sidled around behind you and laid his hands on your shoulders. You straightened your back, marveling at how warm his hands were.

“Does it hurt when I push here?” He asked, slender fingers digging in around your shoulder blade. You winced.

“A little.”

“How about here?” He moved his fingers up towards your collarbone, using his thumb to push in.

“No, not there.”

“Alright…” Merlin’s voice trailed off. Without even looking at him, you could tell that his teeth was between his lips and his brows were furrowed. You often teased him about it. You called it his thinking face, for he did it whenever he was deep in thought, without realizing.

His fingers absentmindedly trailed around towards your spine and began to work out some of the knots in your upper back.

“You’re just so tense.” Merlin said distractedly, bringing in his other hand to work at the muscles. Without meaning to, you groaned, feeling heat pool in the pit of your stomach. You could feel uncomfortable pressure in your trousers as you took great interest in Merlin’s hands on your skin. Your mind ran rampant with fantasies of Merlin’s hands and the things he could do with them…

Merlin leaned over you, focusing his attention now to the very tops of your shoulders. You panicked thinking that he might happen to look down and see… You let out a choked noise and jumped to your feet, keeping your back turned.

“Thanks, Merlin,” your voice was uncharacteristically low and you coughed, trying to fix it. “But I have to go now.” You finished lamely, pulling your shirt back on and racing out the door.

If you’d have looked over your shoulder on your way out you’d have seen the hurt look on his face, complete with those puppy dog eyes that you loved to tease him about. Merlin didn’t want you to go.

It was a good thing you didn’t spare a glance.

—

For the next few days you tried the best you could to avoid Merlin. He was one of your best friends, and even if he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, you didn’t want to ruin whatever relationship you had with him. Still, you couldn’t quite come face to face with him until at least a little time had passed since the day in Gaius’s chambers.

Okay, fine, you couldn’t come face to face with him because you were extremely guilty of getting yourself off in your room that night thinking about Merlin’s hands. You’d regretted it immediately afterwards, but the sleepy satiated feeling in your bones had been worth it for the time being.

Still, facing Merlin was a no-no.

Just thinking about him made your face get all hot and flushed. What would the rest of the Knights say? Merlin was their friend as well as yours. Besides, you weren’t worthy of someone as great as him anyway.

After training, you stayed on the field, whacking at one of the dummies with your sword. You took out your frustration on the straw man, placing every blow where you felt the most pain. Why did you have to feel this way about Merlin? Why couldn’t he ever love you back?

“Is he dead yet?” An all-too-familiar voice called teasingly over your shoulder. You turned and squinted, seeing through the crack in your helmet Merlin’s cheery face. A little too bloody cheery, in your opinion.

“Wasn’t alive to begin with.” You shrugged, rolling out your shoulders. They were still sore from earlier in the week–though Merlin’s treatment had helped tons. You took off your helmet and set it atop the dummy’s wooden head, running a hand through your sweaty hair.

“Y/N?” Merlin’s voice was quiet.

“What?” You replied, but it came out a little gruffer than you’d wanted.

“Is there a reason you’re avoiding me?” Merlin asked. You made the mistake of turning to look at him and you saw the raw emotion in his eyes. Was he upset with you? Why?

“No.” you lied, your heart sinking in your chest.

“Oh,” he said, digging his toe in the dirt. “I just thought…”

“What, Merlin?” You sighed, avoiding meeting his eye.

“Y/N, can I, erm, kiss you?” He asked, twisting his fingers together behind his back.

You dropped your sword and clung to him like he was everything you’d been missing. His lips were soft and light, barely there, but even so they were more than you had ever imagined. Merlin’s hands grappled at your hair, latching on to the back of your neck. Even after you broke the kiss you remained in an embrace, chest to chest and heart to heart.

“Merlin?” You whispered into the side of his neck.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

The entire kingdom was abuzz with gossip, Merlin discovered one morning, much to his chagrin. Uther had invited yet another mysterious visitor to court for entertainment. Merlin interpreted this to mean that someone else was coming to kill Arthur. He sighed. Couldn’t they let him have one evening off from saving the crown prince?

“Good afternoon, most esteemed courtesans of Camelot.” The inventor began, his voice nasally and rather grating on the ears. Merlin wrinkled his nose, listening patiently as the inventor continued his bombastic speech.

“I have traveled far and wide, showcasing my humble wares and spreading knowledge throughout the realm. I am honored to be here tonight, and I wish to share my inventions with you.”

The first thing that the inventor produced from his trunk was a curious little device that would be placed in the bottom of a wine goblet. It was a thin silver disc, and Merlin flinched as the inventor dropped it into Uther’s glass.

“It secretes a special elixir of my own invention to prevent drunkenness.” He said grandly. The king chuckled and pushed his goblet away.

“Oh no, but that’s why I drink!” Uther said, his words already slurring together as proof. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. At least the king wouldn’t ingest any poison. Hopefully.

Sensing that he was losing his audience to boredom and disinterest, the inventor clapped his hands together and once more addressed the crowd.

“Well then, I see that you all will only be satisfied by the very best. I would like to introduce a dear companion of mine.” The inventor said, a sly grin crossing his narrow face. A figure draped all in black was pushed forward to stand by the inventor.

A large black hood covered the figure’s head. Merlin frowned, focusing intently on it. More than once had people carried objects into Camelot’s feasting hall intent on causing harm. He’d already saved Arthur’s life more times than he could count. Would he have to do it again tonight?

The inventor swept the hood off of the figure’s head with a dramatic flourish. For a moment, Merlin was greatly shocked to see a person standing there, lifeless. He at first thought it quite gruesome, but soon realized that it was only a doll.

She was dressed in a plain black gown, long folds of fabric draped over her body, save for the very large key handle protruding from her spine. It seemed to be some sort of fantastical machinery, quite sophisticated for this day and age. The doll’s hair was piled atop her head, and she wore satin slippers. Clearly the inventor had spent both time and money on this doll; she must have been his pride and joy.

The doll was incredibly lifelike, Merlin observed. The face and the hands were so detailed that it was a wonder it was fake. The only giveaway was the doll’s eyes. They were glassy and unfocused. While the rest of the face was joyful, a painted smile gracing its features, the eyes were sad. They seemed to express a very human-like melancholy, which disturbed Merlin to his core.

The inventor touched the doll’s shoulder, holding her fragile body steady as he turned the key on her back once, twice, three times, to make the doll move. She lifted her head and turned her smile to the crowd of people, her glassy eyes cold and dead. Murmurs swept through the crowd, the nobles and courtesans marveling at the treasure. Merlin bit his lip. It didn’t seem right, somehow.

“I would like to introduce my dear friend here. Her name is Duchess.” The inventor said in his oily voice, gesturing to the doll. The doll faltered, blinking slowly as if she were unsure what to do.

“Now, now, Duchess. Wave hello.” He chastised, and the doll did as asked, raising her delicate hand. The crowd was alight. What a wonder! So lifelike!

Merlin found it disturbing. He glanced over at Arthur, who seemed to be equally uneasy. The prince was more focused on tying the tassels on the tablecloth into knots than watching the inventor. He often fiddled with his fingers when he felt uncomfortable. Often, Merlin would find some unimportant papers torn to bits after long council meetings. Merlin never mentioned it to him.

“A truly marvelous creation,” Uther boomed, his eyes crinkling at the corners with the force of his smile. “Surely you must be hungry. Sit, and join the feast as our honored guest.”

The cloth was once again thrown over the doll’s head, and she was shuffled away. Merlin still felt uneasy.

—

Deciding to be proactive on his save-Arthur-from-mortal-harm plot, Merlin investigated the inventor’s chambers midday the following day when he was on an outing with the king.

He found two beds within the inventor’s room, which was odd considering the inventor traveled alone. Both had mussed up sheets and pillows with indentations in them. Clearly two people were staying here, Merlin inferred. But who was the second? The four-poster bed was clearly the one the inventor had slept in, so Merlin chose to focus on the other one, which was a much smaller and sadder, with fraying sheets and thin blankets.

He found a long, slightly curled hair on the pillow. It looked nothing like the inventor’s close-cropped and greying locks. Was it the inventor’s lover? They hadn’t shared the same bed, so it couldn’t be so. Merlin frowned, puzzled.

He suddenly had the very acute feeling that he was being watched. His attention was drawn to the m m tall cabinet in the corner of the room. The door was ajar. Merlin raised an eyebrow and crept over, ready to run or defend himself if something were to jump out and attack him. He flicked the door open with his magic and braced himself.

Nothing happened.

He looked inside, expecting to find something terrible. However, all he saw was the doll, stiff and standing in the closet as if waiting patiently for the inventor’s return. She still wore her shoes, but her sumptuous silk gown was long gone, a thin white chemise in its place. Merlin wondered why the inventor bothered changing the doll’s outfit. Her hair was even no longer styled; it fell in loose waves down to the doll’s shoulders–the same color and length as the hair found on the pillow.

Upon closer inspection, Merlin realized that the doll’s face was far different than what he remembered seeing during the feast. There was no smile, no healthy blush on the doll’s cheeks. She looked pale and dead, and, were she a human, Merlin would’ve run for Gaius immediately. Feeling a little silly, he reached his hand out to search for a pulse, pressing his fingers to the doll’s throat. He felt nothing but the cold of the doll’s skin, though he was surprised, and a little disgusted, to find it soft and smooth–just like a human’s.

But she wasn’t a human. The hairs on the back of Merlin’s neck stood up, and the feeling that he was being watched became much stronger. He closed the cabinet and raced from the room as fast as he could. He didn’t want anything to do with the inventor, or his odd doll. At least, not until he knew more.

That evening, before the sun had yet left the sky, the inventor was invited back out, this time the doll outfitted in an exquisite gown fit for a princess. He made a show of turning the doll’s crank, watching as the doll straightened and seemingly jolted to life. With stiff steps, she moved until she was in front of Uther’s seat at the high table.

Every eye in the room was on that doll, the anticipation building. What was she going to do? Merlin felt dread in the pit of his stomach, heavy and hard. Was she going to attack him? There was no way Merlin could prevent any harm without revealing his magic to the entire court. He swallowed hard on a dry throat.

“If it pleases you, great King of Camelot, I would like to entertain you and your guests here in this beautiful citadel.” The doll spoke, her voice small, yet melodious. Merlin’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected it to be capable of speech. Judging by the gasps of the crowd, they hadn’t either.

“By all means, please do.” Uther said, gesturing for more wine for himself to drink while watching. He was not phased. The doll’s smile seemed to brighten, although her eyes remained as sad as always.

The crowd watched with bated breath as she began singing, her breathy voice filling the halls with joyful music. Even Merlin was impressed. How could the inventor do such a thing? Dolls weren’t alive, and there was no way for them to speak and sing on their own. He was captivated by her singing.

The doll finished her song to a great uproar of applause. As she took a bow and returned to the inventor’s side, Merlin decided one thing.

It had to be magic.

—

He returned the following day, only to find the inventor’s rooms exactly as they were the day before. Both beds were obviously slept in. The doll was in its box, frozen, yet lifelike. She was wearing different clothing than the day before. Merlin vaguely wondered why the inventor would bother to constantly change his doll, even when she wasn’t “performing.”

Later that evening, Arthur dismissed him from his duties. Uthur and the inventor had decided to dine privately–perhaps to discuss whatever important matters a king and an inventor could. Merlin took it as another chance to get to the bottom of the mysterious doll. Just as the sun was setting and Merlin was certain that the inventor wouldn’t be returning any time soon, he snuck out to investigate.

When he arrived at the inventor’s chambers, he was completely unsurprised to find everything exactly he same. He swung open the door to the doll’s box and noted that it was still in the same clothing as earlier that day: a thin chemise and wool cloak atop it. Merlin raised an eyebrow and decided to examine her closer. He was admiring the incredible detail on her face, nearly nose to nose with her.

“Curious.” He mumbled to himself. All of a sudden, her head jerked and she seemed to come to life. Like a corpse come back from the dead, color flushed her face and she soon looked quite healthy and beautiful. Startled, Merlin watched as she took a deep breath before speaking.

“Help me! Please!” You begged as soon as you could control your voice. You’d watched him creep around the inventor’s rooms day in and day out, screaming in your head, where no one could hear. You’d tried to get his attention, but you knew it was futile. If the sun was up, your body wasn’t your own to control.

“Bloody hell!” He hissed, belatedly shoving his fist in his mouth to keep from making too much noise. The doll had moved on its own! Merlin watched, wide eyed, as she calmly pulled the large key from her back and hung it on a hook that was in her box.

“I don’t understand.” He managed to get out. “Who are you? I thought you were–you were a doll?”

“I recognize you. You came snooping around here during the day. Why?” You asked. You didn’t mean to frighten him so!

“You’re not really a doll, are you?” He raised an eyebrow suspiciously. You rolled your eyes, stepping out of your box and stretching your limbs. After an entire day of being locked inside your head, your limbs get quite stiff.

“No. Well, yes.” You sighed. It was all rather complicated, even for you to understand.

“What do you mean?” Merlin was uncertain whether you were telling the truth or not.

“I’m cursed. During the day I cannot move or speak for myself at all. I can do nothing but obey the inventor’s orders.” You murmured.

“And he parades you around like you’re a creation, an invention?” Merlin’s eyes widened. It was far worse than he could’ve suspected. This inventor was taking advantage of you for his own gains. Merlin felt a pang in his heart and he knew he had to help you.

“I don’t have a choice in the matter. I’m helpless.” You told him sadly, nervously twisting the fabric on your sleeves.

“What sort of a curse is it?” Merlin asked hopefully. “Do you know?”

You shook your head. “Something magical. When the sun is up I cannot move, but I can still think, and see, and feel.” You said sadly. “I just have no control.”

“That’s awful.” Merlin rested his hand over yours comfortingly, stopping you from inadvertently ripping your sleeves from nerves. “How long have you been like this?”

“Only a few years. I was kidnapped by bandits when I was only twelve. They carried me off when I was sent to fetch water from the well. The inventor thought I was pretty and bought me from them.” Your eyes filled with tears and you felt your face flush hot. “I haven’t seen my family since then.”

“Is Duchess really your name?” He asked, furrowing his brow.

“No, it’s Y/N.” You replied. Merlin let out a sigh and put his hands on his hips. You watched as he pursed his lips, deep in thought.

“I’m going to break the curse.” He said, determined. “I promise you, I’ll find a way.”

“Alright, Merlin, you can try.” You sighed. You didn’t believe he would be able to break the curse himself. He didn’t look the type to be magical. His optimism and passion warmed you heart, but made you all the more melancholy that it wasn’t going to work.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise, Y/N.”

—

The next day, you tried not to get your hopes up. Just before sunrise, the inventor stormed in and shoved you unceremoniously back into your box for the day. You felt as your limbs turned to rock and you couldn’t move a muscle. His thoughts filled your head, repeating mindless commands.

Stay still.

Don’t move.

Stay still.

You easily tuned his suggestions out; however, it was much harder to keep your mind from straying to thoughts of Merlin. You fantasized about him coming to rescue you. He would break the curse and sweep you into his arms, telling you that you were the prettiest and smartest girl in the kingdom.

Just thinking such thoughts hurt. What you knew would happen would be Merlin trying and failing to break the curse, and him getting hurt because of it. You mourned for the spirited boy you’d watched from afar. He was as good as death, facing the inventor’s wrath.

“What happened?” You asked.

“The inventor ‘accidentally’ revealed his magic in front of the entire court,” Merlin said smugly, “he’s rotting in a cell now.”

“But how did you break–”

“The curse? I haven’t quite gotten to it yet.” Merlin continued grinning.

“I see.” Your heart sunk.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry,” Merlin hastily apologized, “I did some reading, and it says that such a curse as this can only be broken by true love’s kiss. Isn’t it terribly cliché?”

“Oh. I see.” If it were possible, you would have felt even worse. Who would love you? No one. No one even knew you existed. You would be cursed forever.

“I told you that you couldn’t break the curse.” You smiled wryly, for you knew that if you were not laughing, you would be crying.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sure there’s another way. Why don’t we go see?”

Using a large cloak and furtively creeping around the halls, Merlin managed to sneak you into the physician’s chambers. You spent the night side by side, combing through one ancient book after another for any spell that would reverse your curse. As the night went on, your spirits fell.

There wasn’t any hope, was there?

“Merlin?” You asked quietly.

“Hm?” He replied, his lower lip between his teeth in thought.

“We can stop. There’s no point. Look, the sun’s going to rise soon.”

Merlin slammed his book shut and you jumped, startled.

“Never say there’s no point.” He said, his voice low. Merlin was clearly frustrated that here was nothing he could do. He’d never felt so powerless.

“Thank you for tying.” You said, cupping his face in your hands and kissing his forehead. You remembered your mother repeating the comforting gesture on you and thought that it might help.

Merlin flushed, but said nothing, before helping to sneak you back into the inventor’s rooms. He had decided to stay with you until the sun rose, just in case “there was anything you needed until then.” Merlin was really quite a sweetheart, you observed. Sitting at the window, you and Merlin awaited the sunrise.

And, oh, what a beautiful sunrise it was. As you watched, you waited for the familiar heaviness to seep into your limbs, turning them to lead and paralyzing your body. You waited for your mind to quiet, and for every important thought to be magically delivered by the inventor.

You waited.

But it never came.

“Merlin.” Your voice was a whisper. “The sun’s up.”

“It is.” He said drowsily. Taking an entirely sleepless night certainly had its toll on him.

“And I’m not a doll.”

“No, clearly not.” He replied, eyes half lidded. You patiently waited for it to sink in.

A few belated moments later, Merlin’s eyes flew open and he jumped from his chair.

“Y/N! You’re not a doll!” He laughed joyously.

“I’m not!” You agreed.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, spur of the moment. After all, you were fairly certain Merlin was the only person you’d kissed. Ever. He had to be the one who broke the curse. Merlin took your face in his hands and kissed you square on the mouth. You felt a strange lightness in your body, and you had a premonition that nothing would ever be the same.

You watched the sunrise over the horizon. When you were a child, you would eagerly await the moment when you could see the sun, naught but a bright red disc, peeking up from behind the hills. It was always a momentous occasion, the official start to a brand new day.

Now, watching as the sun arrived and cast long shadows over the land, you felt nothing. You had been feeling nothing for quite some time. You were watching the sun rise for the very last time. At least, today was the day you had decided to end it. Once and for all, end it.

You remembered the day you decided that you were going to kill yourself. It was a surprisingly pleasant day, with warm breezes and laughter streaming through every room. Except for yours. You had kept the curtains drawn, lighting only a single candle. You didn’t want to waste anything else. After all, you weren’t really worth much. There were others who were far better, far more deserving to live.

That day, you had decided to write a note for the only ones who would even notice your absence. You addressed it to Gaius and Merlin, waiting for the ink to dry before you continued, just so it wouldn’t smudge. After all, you couldn’t do anything right. Why would writing a suicide note be any different?

However, you had left the door open, and one of the two who would notice your absence wandered in. What did he want? Certainly not your company.

“What are you writing?” Merlin was suddenly over your shoulder. You jumped, startled, and covered the scrawled writing with your hands.

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” You squeaked. Merlin raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. You stayed hunched over, shielding the notes from his eyes as he walked away. As soon as he was gone, you let out a sigh and looked over your handiwork.

Some of the writing had smudged, but you didn’t want to waste another sheet of paper, so you merely kept going. The ink stained your fingers, but you couldn’t have cared less.

Dear Gaius and Merlin,

I would say that I am sorry, however, I know that it is not true. My last testimony to this world won’t be one filled with lies. I’m not sorry. It had to be done. Admit it.

I love you. The both of you. Please don’t mourn for me. I would hate to see either of you upset over me.

You didn’t bother to sign it.

The sun had nearly completely risen. Now was the time to act, before anyone awoke to watch it happen. You had planned for them to find your body laying where it would have fallen. It seemed to be the most appropriate and least personal way to die.

If you had been found with a bloody knife in your hand, there would have been no questions asked, only assumptions and curses and anger. If you had been found with a bottle of poison at your lips, the same. If you were going to do one thing right, it would be your death.

Falling from the top of a castle could be blamed as an accident or a murder. And it certainly would be the quickest way to die. You were positive that the moment your body hit the pavement everything would be blessedly over and done.

You didn’t want to wait for poison to take effect or watch as blood seeped through your fingers. The more time it took, the higher chance of someone finding you and stopping it. Only you could so spectacularly fail in a suicide attempt. You couldn’t do anything right.

The air was warm above the castle, but the wind was cold. You shivered, clutching your nightdress around you. You never, ever, left your rooms in your night clothing–that would be another deterrent for those who would think your death was self-caused.

Peering over the edge, you saw the stone ground meters and meters below you. You imagined how it would feel, as your body slammed into it. Every bone would shatter. Good, you thought wryly. Let your body reflect the inside of your head. Hiking the skirt of your dress up to your knees, you swung your leg over the wall to sit atop it.

“Y/N, stop!” Merlin’s voice was desperate. You froze but did not turn to look at him, for you knew that if you did, all would be lost and you would leap right back over the wall and into his arms. You stayed staring straight at the ground so terribly far below. No one was awake yet, not a single person milling about in the square to witness your death.

It was all how you planned it.

Except for Merlin.

He was supposed to be in bed, sleeping, without a care in the world. His life was supposed to get better without you always behind him, holding him back from who he could become. You loved him with every bit of your soul, but had only hate left for yourself.

“Go away, Merlin.”

“Get down from there.”

“Come any closer and I’ll jump.”

“Y/N–”

“Go away!”

“I won’t. I swear it, Y/N, I’m not leaving you. Don’t do this. You have so much to live for!”

“Don’t lie to me.” You whispered, your voice cracking. The wind whipped at your hair and chapped your skin. It lapped at the tears in your eyes, mocking you.

“Why are you doing this?”

“No one cares about me, Merlin. My face is too round and my hips are too wide and I’m so bloody stupid and I, and I–” your throat seemed to be closing off and sobs racked your chest. You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. Why were you crying, then, as Merlin took you in his arms and pulled you back from the ledge, cradling you as if you were a baby?

Why were you sobbing into his chest as he stroked your hair and murmured words you didn’t understand?

Why was he here?

“You are loved.” He told you.

You are loved.

You are loved.

When you first laid eyes on Camelot’s grand citadel, you could think only one thing. And even then, it was something terribly sappy about how beautiful the spires were, reaching towards the sky and caressing the clouds.

However, on second thought, you realized that merely being in Camelot was a terrible idea. As a witch, your death by execution was practically guaranteed if anyone were to find out your abilities. So why did you risk it? Well, it was either that, or starve.

You grew up in a small village outside of the kingdom, and a great famine had come over the land there. There was little to eat, and you knew that the fewer mouths your mother had to feed, the better. She already took such diligent care of your siblings, the ones far too young to even consider leaving their mother’s side. So you stole away in the middle of the night, with only memories left behind you.

You didn’t know how to write, and, anyway, your mother couldn’t read, so why bother with a note? Magic was your one true talent, but you needed to find some sort of job in order to eat at night. You had thought long and hard on your journey to Camelot about your possible career options. The only mundane thing you knew how to do was clean and cook, so perhaps a servant.

When you arrived, you discovered that the king and his queen were having an audience with the people. The king was golden-haired and shone beautifully in the sun, and his queen beside him glowed with pride and radiance. You had heard much of the evil widower Uther who was king of this land. The smiling man standing above you was hardly him.

In time, you learned that Uther Pendragon had long since passed away. In time, you learned that the queen preferred to be called Gwen. In time, you learned that the king, Arthur, was better suited to the name “dollop-head,” as you were informed by his manservant, a tall bloke called Merlin.

However, that all came later.

First, you had been assigned as a handmaiden to one of the lesser noblewomen at court. You proved yourself to be quite skilled, loyal, and competent at your job, and eventually found yourself working for the queen herself. Finding a content home in Camelot, the months passed by and seasons changed.

Nothing ever really seemed to change, until one fateful day.

You had taken Gwen’s linens down to the laundry room in order to wash them. Summer had rudely announced itself with untimely heat, and clothing was being washed far more frequently than in the winter months. You didn’t particularly like doing laundry, but you endured it anyway, for it was one of the few times you could be trusted not to be bothered.

The laundry chambers were beyond the kitchen, in the belly of the citadel where few dared to travel. It was only the servants, really, who went to and fro. You poured bucket after bucket of water into a tub, adding a little bit of the cook’s homemade soap to the bottom. It smelled terrible, but, ironically, made the washed cloth smell fresh and clean.

Often when you worked you would find yourself humming, just to entertain yourself. Today, however you knew that there was no one around. If they could help it, everyone had left the castle to try and pursue cooler breezes outside. Certainly no one would be hanging around the steaming laundry room. You dared to raise your voice and sing, the way you used to when you were growing up.

As you sang you felt a tingling in your fingertips, which you easily attributed to magic. Oftentimes when you sang you felt the magic coursing through your veins. You could never quite figure out why. Maybe it just liked music.

Often, singing would cause your magic to burst forth from you like water from a spring. Without even murmuring a spell, your magic would perform even the most complex tasks for you. However, it was mischievous, as most magic tended to be. Sometimes it would help; sometimes it would hinder.

Today, luckily, your magic was quite benevolent in aiding you with the laundry. You had discovered that the wood box in the laundry room was completely empty and, rather than having to trek to the wood pile outside the castle walls, your magic boiled the water all on its own. It was really quite miraculous.

Careful to appease your magic, you sang your heart out, filling the air with melodies you knew your magic loved to hear. You were so intent on keeping the water boiling that you failed to notice when Arthur’s manservant, Merlin, arrived with a basket of laundry for him to clean as well. When he finally cleared his throat to alert you to his presence, your heart nearly stopped.

Oh, how foolish you were! Your magic revolved around your singing! You could feel Merlin’s eyes scanning the water behind you. It was boiling, though there was no fire lit underneath. The water bubbled ominously and thick clouds of steam burst forth.

You immediately stopped singing and slapped a hand over your mouth. The bubbles, too, calmed their frenzied dance in the water.

“I can explain!” You cried.

“No need,” he said, “I’ve seen enough.”

“Please, please, Merlin! I’ve never hurt anyone! Don’t report me!” You fell to your knees, begging him with all the sincerity in your heart. Merlin raised his hand and you flinched, fearful that he might strike you. You buried your face in your hands and whimpered. You were too young to die!

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N, look at me. It’s okay, I promise.” Merlin said as if he were calming a spooked horse. You slowly looked up from your hands, surprised to find that he, too, was kneeling on the ground, facing you. Your brow furrowed in surprise. Was this some grand trick?

“I have magic too.” He said, cupping his hands together and whispering into them. You watched as his eyes flashed gold–did yours do that when you sang?–and felt the magic radiating off of him like heat from a flame.

When he opened his hands, a songbird perched on his fingers. It sweetly copied your song, chirping a continuation of the melody you’d abruptly stopped. Your jaw dropped in wonder; your magic had never created anything as wonderful as this!

“It’s wonderful,” you marveled, “but… what are you doing here? In Camelot?”

“The same as you, I’d imagine.” He grinned cheekily, waving his hand and letting the bird swoop up to the rafters, singing all the while. “So, how did you learn?” —

In the following weeks, you found yourself more and more distracted while performing your duties in the castle. When you were making Gwen’s bed, your mind wandered to thoughts of Merlin, and the way his hair always looked rumpled in the mornings. You would always comb it through with your fingers to get it to lie flat, while he would protest saying he’d already brushed through it. How much of a mess would his hair be right when he woke up in the morning? You wondered, a fond smile on your face.

When you swept the floors, you couldn’t help but think of Merlin’s eyes, they way they were always so open and warm towards you. You felt as if he could see into your very soul and thought it was something special, spectacular. And when he did magic, the gold hue they took on caused your breath to catch in your throat.

When doing laundry, you were constantly reminded of your first meeting. You found yourself singing more and more songs and madrigals about love, hoping that Merlin would appear and listen joyfully. He loved your singing, and perhaps he would request a song of his own.

You got so lost in a daydream, you burnt the back of your hand while stirring the laundry. It was all worth it, however, when Merlin noticed and took the opportunity to dote upon you.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” he said earnestly, “Gaius taught me how to treat burns. Here, give me your hand.”

Your heart jumped into your throat as you wordlessly placed your hand in his. His thumb pressed over your fingers, gently turning your hand so he could examine the burn that swept from your knuckles across the back of your hand. You had accidentally brushed your hand against the side of the blisteringly hot metal cauldron you used for more delicate clothing, rather than the usual wooden tub.

Merlin tsked and set your hand down to retrieve supplies from Gaius’s stores. You watched as he flitted around the room, gathering small glass bottles of murky substances, bandages, and a few objects you didn’t know the purpose of. When he returned, he took your hand and gently submerged it into a bowl of water.

While it was soaking, you were relieved to find that it took some of the sting out of the wound. Merlin sorted through the little glass bottles and picked one with a worn and peeling label. He poured a little bit onto a scrap of cloth.

“May I?” he asked, ever so courteous. You nodded and Merlin gently grabbed your hand, careful not to touch or prod the burn. He patted the mixture on, keeping his thumb resting over the back of your fingers to keep your hand steady.

He readied a bandage to wrap it with, carefully winding it around tight enough for it to stay on, but loose enough so that it didn’t stick to the wound. After it was all bandaged and taken care of, Merlin produced a towel and meticulously dried your fingertips, one by one. It tickled a little, and you giggled, catching a hint of a mischievous smile on Merlin’s face.

“Am I going to live, master physician?” You teased, raising your voice in pitch to make it high and warbling. Merlin grinned in response, pulling his hands away and folding up the towel.

“I am optimistic about it, my dear patient.” He said, lowering his voice and taking on a somber tone. You burst out laughing when you caught the mock-serious look on his face.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t too long after that you realized you were late to meeting Gwen back in her chambers. You always assisted her in dressing for dinner and the evening’s activities. On your way out the door, you called your apologies and condolences back to the manservant-turned-physician. However, you failed to glance back at Merlin, which meant that you missed the plainly lovestruck look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m late! I was with Merlin and I–” You panted, having run up no less than four flights of stairs to reach Gwen’s chambers.

“Y/N, it’s all right, really.” She said soothingly, in her very Gwenlike manner.

“I just–oh, how wonderful! Everything’s all right!” You tittered, gasping for breath and managing to form only mildly coherent statements.

“Well, aren’t you just a beam of sunshine today!” Gwen remarked. “What on earth has put you in such a good mood?”

“Oh, nothing.” You said, casting your eyes downward. “It’s just a lovely day!”

“I see.” Gwen hid her smile behind her hand. She didn’t believe you one bit. However, it still took another week or so until she was quite sure of the reason behind it.

Merlin had insisted to check on the burn on your hand daily, and you were pleased to find that not only was it healing nicely, but it gave you a reason to spend more time with him. Gwen always noticed a distinct elevation in your mood after you returned from the physician’s chambers in the afternoon.

“I’ve figured it out,” Gwen said proudly one day, “you’re in love.”

—

The day you were married was the happiest of your life, to date.

For such a small ceremony, you simply couldn’t believe just how joyful everything was. Gwen had personally tailored a beautiful, but simple, gown for you to wear. You had requested that it be practical, so you could wear it again after the wedding. Merlin had borrowed one of Arthur’s finer starched shirts, but he kept his red neckerchief around his neck as always.

The sun’s irreverent shining could in no way compare to the glowing in his eyes as he gazed down at you while you were saying your vows. As king, Arthur officiated the ceremony. Following the nuptials, there was a feast fit for the gods themselves.

Such a glorious wedding set a precedent for the rest of your marriage, and you never had been as content as you were in love. Only a few months after your wedding, you fell pregnant. Both you and Merlin were bursting with excitement to be parents. Merlin never missed an opportunity to spoil you, and while you were with child he was extra doting. He was a great help and an even greater companion through the trials of pregnancy.

“Merlin, I’m so bored.” You complained, shifting back to rest your head on the pillows. You were late enough into your pregnancy that you were confined to your bed, but you still were restless and desiring to run and move. However, you thought with a wry smile, the baby moved enough for the both of you. One hand protectively cradled your swollen belly as the baby kicked, scarcely able to believe that there was a child just under your skin, growing stronger every day.

In addition to growing stronger, the child was growing larger as well. Day after day you felt your body change to compensate. Your feet ached, your breasts softened, and your appetite increased. With these changes came the aches and pains that you had hear so much about from your mother.

“Would you like me to bring you a book?” Merlin asked, sweet and eager to help, as always.

“Oh, no, that’s okay.” You said, feigning nonchalance.

“Come on, reading always helps me when I’m bored.” He said, grinning as he fetched one of his favorite novels. You knew it was his favorite because of how often he had it in his hands. The markings on the cover were nearly worn off, and the pages were creased and soft with age.

“Merlin, I can’t read.” You confessed, your face flushing with shame. Your husband valued learning and knowledge. How would he feel about having a wife as dumb as an ox? You bit your lip and avoided his eye. You felt the bed sink as he crawled in beside you.

“I can teach you, my little songbird,” Merlin said brightly, pressing a book into your hands. He had opened it to the first page, and wrapped his hand over yours, guiding your finger to trace the words.

In small villages like Ealdor, little events could easily get blown out of proportions. For instance, after a rotten tree collapsed and killed one of your father’s sheep, everyone swore that they saw something different happen. A farmer claimed that he had seen your father with an ax, chopping the tree down himself. Another insisted that the sheep ran off and your father was too ashamed to admit he’d lost it.

It was much in the same way when you discovered you had magic.

One evening, after the sun had slunk low into the sky and washed the fields in pink and red light, you discovered that if you thought about it hard enough, you could make one of the little flowers dance. With rosy petals for his head and roots for feet, he would merrily twirl and skip around if you asked him to, waving his leaves like arms.

Delighted, you ran to inform your mother of the delightful flower. However, her reaction was not at all what you had expected. Why didn’t she smile? The lines around her mouth grew very tight and you almost saw the blood rushing from her face.

“You must tell no one.” She squeaked, and the next day you were sent off with one of the neighboring farmers in the back of his cart. He was destined for Camelot to sell his wares. Your mother told you that there was a gentleman there you should seek out, for he could help you.

After many days of jostling about in the back of a cart, next to sacks of grain, you finally arrived in the city. Once within the walls of the town, you and your neighbor split up, with him heading down towards the market. You took a different path, following all the way up to the heart of Camelot: the citadel.

There you met Gaius, the gentleman your mother had sent you to meet. You were delighted to be reunited with Merlin again. The two of you grew up in Ealdor together, and were the best of friends though you were much younger. You were heartbroken when he went away, your favorite neighbor in the entire village suddenly gone.

After you arrived, he had promised to give you a tour of the castle and introduce you to everyone. Camelot was going to become your home, after all. Bickering like you did when you were children, you and Merlin ran into the prince on your walk.

“My lord!” You cried, dropping to your knees and ducking your head to the floor. Your heart flung itself into your throat and it felt like you couldn’t breathe for a good minute. It was terrifying!

“Don’t mind us, Arthur.” Merlin quickly said, pulling you to your feet and ushering you away. You still wouldn’t look directly at the prince, for fear of getting your head chopped off. Merlin rushed you down the hall and left Arthur there in wonderment of what he’d just witnessed.

“Y/N! It’s ok! I promise Arthur won’t hurt you!” Merlin soothed, gently rubbing your back. “He may act high and mighty but he’s really just a prat in shining armor.”

“Really? My mother said that-that if I looked at him the wrong way he’d throw me in the dungeon!”

“Oh, that’s not Arthur who’d do that. That’s the king, Uther.” Merlin joked.

“Merlin!” You scolded, hitting his shoulder. “Stop scaring me!”

Just at that moment, Morgana had also chosen to appear in the hallway. Apparently it was quite the hotspot for royals on that morning.

“Hello there, Morgana!” Merlin greeted, a smile on his face, as always.

“Good morning Merlin. Oh? Who’s this?” She asked, turning her dazzling gaze towards you.

“Oh, this is Y/N. She’s, ehm, she’s my…” He panicked and merely shrugged, gesturing vaguely in your direction. Apparently, Morgana took this to mean that you were Merlin’s little sister, which wasn’t quite true.

“I didn’t know you had a sister, Merlin,” she laughed, bubbly and bright.

“H-hello, my lady. It’s an honor to meet you.” You said to Morgana, ducking into what you hoped was a graceful curtsey.

“Please, just call me Morgana.” She replied, her smile showing her startlingly white teeth.

“Y-yes, okay.” You stuttered, intimidated by her beauty.

“I can see the resemblance.” Morgana pointed out cheerily. “Well, I’m terribly sorry to be so abrupt, but I must be off. It was wonderful to meet you, Lady Y/N!”

—

Weeks went by, and soon everyone in the castle was accustomed to your presence. You were always trailing around after Merlin, and had earned the nickname “Merlin’s Little Shadow,” which he found rather funny. No one doubted that you were his sister through and through, as you behaved just the same–just as quiet, just as clumsy, just as charming.

Morgana immediately took a liking to you and personally requested to have you as a maidservant. After all, if Arthur got to have a Merlin, she should have one too. You proved yourself to be just as hopeless at the job as Merlin was, to no one’s surprise. Morgana was delighted.

As eager Gaius was to take in one of Merlin’s childhood friends, he was completely blindsided by the fact that you truly did act like siblings. Your constant bickering and teasing and prodding and poking was nearly too much for the old man to bear. “Y/N, if you flick Merlin’s ear one more time, I’ll send you to be without supper!” He had snapped one evening when he had enough of the nonsense.

Naturally, you used your magic to do it for you. Merlin yelped and Gaius went through with his threat. Luckily, he harbored no ill will and managed to sneak you in some food anyway.

—

“Gwen, I think he likes you.” You said matter-of-factly, braiding tiny white flowers into Morgana’s hair. It was the morning of a tournament, and Arthur had just arrived on Morgana’s doorstep. He had come to collect a favor from her to wear during the tournament. Morgana insisted that it was Gwen who should give the favor. After much cajoling, she handed over her handkerchief, embroidered with a cursive G in the corner. Arthur had blushed and proclaimed that he would wear it proudly.

“What makes you say that?” She replied, smoothing out the wrinkles on Morgana’s gown as it hung over her dressing screen.

“We all saw the way he looked at you!” Morgana piped up, and the two of you dissolved into giggles. Gwen’s cheeks flushed and she turned her back to the two of you, absently tracing her fingertips over the trim on Morgana’s gown.

“Really?” Her voice was small, wistful.

“Definitely.” You told her matter-of-factly, finishing styling Morgana’s hair with a red ribbon. “There. All finished.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Morgana grinned, gently feeling the braids on the back of her head. “I can’t see it, but I’m sure it’s beautiful!”

“Come on, my lady,” Gwen beckoned, “we must get you dressed quickly or we’ll be late to the tournament.”

Luckily, the three of you were early enough to watch Arthur’s first jousting match. His armor gleamed in the sunlight as he sat proudly atop his horse. Overlooking he field, he seemed to be patiently waiting for all of the crowd to take their seats. You and Gwen were no exception. Morgana was seated at Uther’s right hand in the royal box, allowing you and Gwen to sit down in the first row, closest to the festivities.

Merlin joined out there after outfitting Arthur in his armor. Arthur’s squire took over from there, so Merlin could enjoy the tournament the same as any other. He sat down between you and Gwen, the sun warm on the back of his shoulders.

“Arthur always gets in these moods before tournaments.” Merlin complained. “He made me latch his breastplate three times before it was to his liking.”

“It’s probably just nerves.” You told him, rubbing his shoulder. “I’d be terrified to go out and face certain death for other people’s enjoyment.”

“Certain death?” Gwen squeaked. By the end of the tournament, Gwen was firmly situated between you and Merlin, the both of you gripping one of her hands for support. Arthur had two near misses, during which Gwen squeezed the life out of your and Merlin’s hands. She was very invested in the spectacle.

Luckily, Arthur won, and it even looked like he would only take home a few bruises and sores for his troubles. You heard Gwen breathe a sigh of relief beside you.

Following the awards ceremony, the knights put on a display of talent just for show. A series of rings were hung from posts that the knight had to stick his lance through in order to pull it off of the post. Each ring had a dangling ribbon hanging from it, so the knight could see it more easily.

As each round progressed the rings got smaller and smaller, until they were no larger than the tip of the lance itself. A long Pendragon-red ribbon hung from it, taunting Arthur. He adjusted the lance in his hand and urged his horse forward at a steady trot.

He was deftly able to scoop the ring right onto the tip of his lance, the ribbon blowing in the wind as the silver balanced precariously on top. The beautiful ribbon would be a perfect favor for a lady love. You immediately jumped to your feet, waving your arms vigorously to get his attention. Once you’d caught his eye, you gestured towards Gwen. He immediately seemed to understand, plucking the ribbon from the ring and dismounting his horse to give it to Gwen personally.

“Thank you, my lady, for allowing me to wear your token. I hope you shall accept this one in return, as a symbol of my love.” He said, all blond gallantry. As soon as he’d gotten back on his horse and ridden away, Gwen lightly smacked your shoulder.

“Y/N!” Gwen scolded, her cheeks reddening. “How forward of you!”

In return you merely shrugged, racing off towards the knights’ tents to find Arthur and congratulate him yourself. As soon as you were gone, Gwen smiled happily to herself.

“Merlin, your sister is the sweetest!” Gwen told him, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention. She proudly wore the ribbon Arthur had speared from the target during the joust around her wrist. Her fingers wouldn’t stop playing with it, almost as if she couldn’t believe it was really there.