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Harry Potter ( #prongsfoot / #jilypad )

Red white and royal blue (#firstprince/ #RWRB)

Captive prince ( #captive prince / #lamen )

BBC Merlin ( #bbc merlin / #merthur )

☆Writing

My writing ( #roalinda writes )

Fic recs and sharing (#fic rec )

Prompt: Family

Aithusa is a white dragon, a miraculous symbol of Albion's golden age. True, she is crippled and mute but it's not like she is stupid. She understands perfectly well that magic is a double-edged sword. She understands that sometimes it is not a blessing but a curse, a cold abyss that contains nothing but chains and pain. She understands that it is what took her mother away.

Aithusa is not blind. She sees the haunted look in her father's eyes, the way his lithe figure is crumpled like a sheet and how he doesn't laugh anymore. She sees the sorrow running in his veins, oozing gold into the crimson blood. She sees him walking aimlessly around in the rain when no one is looking, when the castle is asleep, drenched in guilt.

…and for all that, she blames Arthur Pendragon.

She hates him. She doesn't care what others say, that he is benevolent and strong, that he is noble and kind. He is the cause of her mother's death and her father's fake smiles and she bitterly wishes that he hadn't survived.

But then again, a dead Arthur means a heartbroken Merlin and Aithusa knows that. Arthur Pendragon is The Once and Future King and his life force balances Emrys’ magic hence a united Albion.

Aithusa doesn't visit her father anymore. She prefers to stay away. She knows that her childish behaviour pains him but she hates to see him so close to the king, always touching and stealing kisses. Arthur heals her father in a way no one can and Aithusa wonders in confusion if she should stop hating him for that.

Her confusion ends one night by a summon from her father, in his stern dragonlord voice, an order she can't refuse. When she reaches Camelot, she finds her father smiling at her with his eyes twinkling like they used to.

Aithusa tilts her head curiously and her father pets her lovingly. “I have missed you, sweetheart,” he whispers and Aithusa nods. She basks in his attention.

“So, this is your baby girl, Merlin?”

Aithusa throws a betrayed look at her father. He knows that she doesn't like Arthur.

“I know. I know you don't like him, dear. He is a prat after all,” her father's soothing voice mends Aithusa's broken heart.

“And you're a clotpole!”

The way his father ignores the King amuses Aithusa. “Aithusa, I have called you here to talk. So, maybe you stop hating Arthur and let Morgana's memory rest,” he says and Arthur remains silent, eyeing her carefully.

Aithusa presses her face into her father's hand. She knows that it is not fair to them if they don't have a chance to talk.

“I know that you don't like Arthur and that you blame him for what happened to Morgana,” her father's tone is sad. “But it's not his fault. If you want someone to blame, it is me. I am the one who is guilty of everything. I am the cowardly one. I am at fault for Morgana's death, not Arthur.”

Aithusa remains unmoving. Then hears her father's deeper voice whispering in dragon tongue, so Arthur doesn't understand. “Aithusa, I am tired. I am filled with regret. Sadness is devouring me and my magic. It is Arthur who keeps me steady. It is him that keeps me safe…and sane. He holds me together and beside him I am content.”

Aithusa growls but her father hushes her and shows her a beautiful sigil. “This is his mother's sigil. Well, it is mine now since I am his betrothed…if you agree to have him.”

Aithusa looks wryly at Arthur who is trying to decipher the conversation between the dragon and her dragonlord albeit in vain.

She rubs her face into her father's hand and her father laughs wetly yet happily. That's all Aithusa wants, her father's happiness after that heavy loss.

“Come here, Arthur. Come and greet my beautiful daughter properly, like a little princess that she is,” her father cooes her and she feels a bit offended by being called little. She is a mature dragon, thank you very much.

“Hello, Aithusa.” Arthur Pendragon's voice is soft and hesitant as he slowly walks towards her, as if she is a prey and he is a predator. Aithusa huffs.

“I am sure we can bond over how lovely and wonderful your dad is,” he continues and drags her father close, kissing the top of his head before stroking her snout.

“Stop it Arthur…my baby is too young to see this!” her father hisses with flushed cheeks and Arthur Pendragon offers a crooked smile before kissing him again, this time on the forehead.

“From now on, she is my baby as well so I don't think she minds.”

Prompt: Change + ( bingo fills: different first meetings - red )

Merlin met Arthur Pendragon for the first time when he was mixing herbs for Gaius while the old man was out in town. Arthur was a handsome man who was covered in bruises as he burst into the physician's office without knocking, strutting to Merlin as if he owned the place.

Merlin blinked in surprise but before he could open his mouth, he was interrupted rudely.

“Where's Gaius?” Arthur who Merlin didn't know him at that time, asked.

“He is out on a business. I can help you in his stead,” Merlin said and put his mortar and pestle aside, pointing at a wooden chair for Arthur to sit.

“Sit and remove your shirt.”

Arthur glared at him and Merlin would be dead if looks could kill. “Who do think you are, ordering me around? Just shut up and change these bandages. My presence is needed at the knights' training.”

Merlin glared back and slowly began to open the old bandages, revealing the red inflamed wounds. His nimble fingers worked on the skin and cleaned the dried blood but not before answering Arthur in a voice which was dripping in sarcasm.

“Who do you think you are, the king?”

“No. I am his son, Arthur,” Arthur scowled but before he could threaten Merlin any further, his skin burned.

“Ouch…stop it you buffoon!”

Merlin ignored him and kept rubbing the ointment on the wound. “Well, to me you seem like an overgrown clotpole with zero pain tolerance.”

Arthur was red in the face. “I will throw you in the stocks for this…”

“Big bad scary prince,” Merlin tutted and changed the bandages, throwing the old ones away.

Arthur pursed his lips but there was a strange twinkle in his eyes. It was as if he had found a precious toy to heal his boredom with. No one ever had the cheek and courage to talk back to him.

Merlin seemed like a challenge and Arthur had never backed away from one.

“That's me,” he smirked. “and you're a clotpole, whatever that means.”

Merlin just rolled his eyes and Arthur's smirk grew wider. “Oh, and you are going to be my manservant from now on, so I expect you to ready my bath in the evening.”

☆Prompt: Blue☆

It snowed on the night that Merlin sent his king off to rest in Avalon.

The sky turned grey, the wind howled and temperature dropped. Lake Avalon's surface turned into thick ice and an invisible magical barrier separated it from the rest of the world, as transparent as glass and as clear as crystal.

That night Merlin’s magic responded to his grief and created a private tomb for Arthur Pendragon. That night lake Avalon was buried under eternal winter. That night Merlin died and the mighty Emrys was born, the cruel guardian of the lake from strangers, the bitter warlock.

Years passed and Emrys numbly mourned by the lake, mourned and mourned, until one final day.

The icy surface of the lake cracked. A boat appeared on the horizon, slowly coming to Emrys. He blinked owlishly and his magic commanded the wind automatically, pulling the boat to the shore. He ran into the freezing water and gasped as he saw his beloved king in the boat, eyes closed and Excalibur between his crossed arms.

There was snow between his blond strands and his cheeks were colourless. Frost covered his eyelashes and his lips were dark blue. His body was cold but Emrys could feel his heartbeat under the cruel mask of death. This time he wasn't going to cower, he was not going to fail.

He leaned down and pushed his warm lips against Arthur's, pushing every ounce of his magic into the other's cold body. He whispered prayers to the God of magic which he belatedly realized was himself but never stopped the kiss, not even to breath because what was the point of breathing without Arthur?

Colour returned to Arthur's cheeks and the snow in his hair melted. Merlin's hot lips against his frozen ones slowly turned them into a normal shade of pink and as his blue eyes opened, Merlin's golden eyes settled into blue as well, tear drops falling shamelessly.

“Merlin?” Arthur whispered confusedly and spring bloomed around, warm and vivid.

prompt: crying

Fic title | Link: Aurora ( by KaiSkitty @ AO3 , roalinda aka me on tumblr )

Pairing: Gwen/Leon , Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Rating: T

Characters: Merlin, Gwen, Leon, Arthur Pendragon

Major tags: Angst with a happy ending, Arthur gets his farm at last, fluff

Archive warnings: -

Summary:

The dawn of Albion's new era is near under Gwen's gentle rule. Everything is in order. Everything but one.

OR

My first bingo fill is a translation of a wonderful one-shot on ao3 with the author's permission which you can find there of course. @merlinbingo

original work : A Loyal Traitor

original author : the_fandoms_have_risen

summary:

“Galiad, fifth son of Chrockland, former Knight of Camelot, for your grievous crimes against the crown, I hereby sentence you to execution, death by beheading–”

Galiad fell to his knees, ears ringing. He never should have tried to kill the King. It had been a stupid, reckless decision, and he could not believe he’d been so easily bribed into it.

He had let his ego get the better of him, and now, here he was, on his knees in the throne room, fighting back tears, trying not to throw up all over the stone floor, begging for his life to be spared.

And here’s the real kicker; he wasn’t even on trial for the attempted murder of his King. His Majesty didn’t know about that.

No, Galiad was on trial for the crime he’d committed against King Arthur’s manservant.

rating: G

translated to Persian by: KaiSkitty @ ao3 ( aka roalinda on tumblr aka me 🙈💕 )

yaaay, I did my second square. @merlinbingo

prompt: survivor's guilt

Summary:

Henry didn't care that he had become a Pygmalion to Alex's Galatea. It was not important, not as long as his secret was safe because no sane person would believe it and Henry preferred it that way, valuing his precious privacy over media gossip.

Or

Henry Fox is a successful writer who is in love. Problem? His beloved is the protagonist of his own book, thus not available.

Read:

♡HERE♡

My gift to @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion for the rwrb gift exchange, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you and all the fandom.