Happy Christmas everyone! Have a modern AU Merthur fake dating fic!
Rating: Teen and Up
Words: 24,256
Summary: To make his mate, Will, stop teasing him, Merlin makes up a boyfriend. The only problem is, his mum now wants him to bring his boyfriend to the family Christmas party.
Merlin has to persaude his sort of friend, Arthur, to pretend to be that boyfriend for the party. Surely they can fake being in love for one day...
Featuring fluff, banter, arguments and confessions, with a splash of pining and obliviousness on the side. All topped up with Christmas spirit!
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Snippet: Chapter 1 - under the cut!
Merlin looked up from his plate of rum cake, poking his tongue out to catch the sticky crumbs off his bottom lip, when his mum walked into the room, still talking on the phone.
“… yes, see you on Saturday, Uncle Gaius,” she was saying. “And you’ll finally get to meet Merlin’s boyfriend… Yes, I know! Absolutely lovely…”
Merlin had frozen at the word boyfriend, his next forkful of cake halted halfway to his mouth, his jaw dropped open in surprise.
“Cup of tea, Merlin? Hello? Merlin?” Hunith snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “Tea?”
Merlin’s fork dropped back to his plate. “Oh, uh…” He shook his head quickly to focus on what his mum had just said. “Yes please.”
“I was going to offer you a piece of rum cake as well, but I see you’ve already found it.” Hunith gave him a fondly reproachful glare.
He grinned sheepishly. “It’s very good.”
“As long as there’s enough left for Dad when he gets home.”
“I’ve only had one slice!” Merlin protested.
Raising her eyebrows, his mum tipped the red sparkly cake tin towards him, showing how much of the cake was missing. “One slice?”
“Ok, so it was a big slice…” Merlin hedged, licking his lips again enthusiastically. “But it’s really yummy!”
“Thank you,” Hunith said with a soft chuckle, then tutted and cut herself a small slice. She ruffled Merlin’s hair, poured two cups of tea and came to sit at the table beside him.
Chewing slowly, Merlin swallowed his mouthful and took a gulp of tea, before looking up at his mother. “Mum…” – she hummed questioningly – “Why did you tell Gaius that he’d get to meet my boyfriend?”
“Because he will, won’t he? James is coming to the Christmas party, yes?”
Oh shit! ‘James’ was the boyfriend that Merlin had made up a few weeks ago when his mate, Will, had been teasing him about being single. Again. For about the hundredth time. His mum had overheard and had been so happy for him, that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell her that it wasn’t true. And then things had got a little out of hand when Merlin’s ridiculous imagination and inability to just shut up had meant he continued to embellish the lie until James was a fully formed serious boyfriend that his mum couldn’t wait to meet.
“Uh… I’m not sure if he can make it. I, um, think he might be busy.”
Hunith looked crestfallen. “Oh, that’s such a shame, Merlin. Everyone was so looking forward to meeting him.”
So am I, Merlin thought to himself, stuffing another large forkful of rum cake into his mouth to give himself a moment to think.
“Does James know how important it is to you that he’s here?” Hunith asked, patting Merlin’s hand.
“Um… no…?” Merlin shrugged, chewing his cake slowly as his brain whirred with panic, desperately trying to think up a solution.
“Oh, Merlin sweetheart.” Now his mum looked genuinely sad and Merlin felt his heart clench. “I just don’t want you to be lonely this year.” She shuffled her chair a little closer to his and stroked his hair softly. “I know Will will be bringing – oh, um, I’ve forgotten the name of this one… And Mordred is bringing Kara…”
And that was a bit of a kick in the teeth too; his younger cousin Mordred, barely even seventeen, already had a serious relationship before Merlin had managed to get one.
“I’ll, uh…” Merlin wracked his brain for a way out of the situation. And settled for a lame option to hopefully buy himself a little more thinking time. “I’ll talk to him.” With that he leapt up from his seat, scooped the last bit of cake into his mouth before hurrying to the dishwasher and shoving his plate and fork in. “I’d best go and get ready for work.”
As soon as he was out of his mum’s eye-line in the hallway, he turned and thunked his head against the wall, groaning quietly to himself. How did he always manage to get himself stuck in such situations?
This was chapter 1, please click HERE to read the rest!!
Written for @merlinchristmasbingo and @merlinbingo's December flash bingo!
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How many works do you have on Ao3? 140.... I can’t quite believe that... I've only been on Ao3 for about 13months...
What’s your total Ao3 word count? 303,317 😲😲😲
How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? In the past 15 years or so I have written for (that I can remember) 10 fandoms. In order (I think) Harry Potter, Tamora Pierce, Twilight, Merlin, Supernatural, Glee, Gilmore Girls, Dragon Age, Thunderbirds and Medici. But the only ones I still write now are Harry Potter and Merlin. Only a small fraction of these ever got published online. And only my Merlin fics are on Ao3!
What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (watch me turn this into shameless self promotion 😉)
1) Secrets & Lies - Merthur - Arthur knows about Merlin’s magic and has to stop anyone else finding out.
2) Identity Reveal - BAMF Merlin magic reveal.
3) But You Love Me - Merthur - fluffy love confession after Merlin gets hurt protecting Arthur.
4) Caged - Different first meeting - Merlin caught by a witchfinder and brought to Camelot.
And then these two are tied right now with the same number of kudos:
5) Blackberries, Griffins and a Kiss For You - Mercelot - Lancelot buying gifts for Merlin.
5) “Huddling for Warmth” - Merthur - What it says on the tin, fluffy get together!
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! I feel like if someone has taken the time to tell me they like my fics, then I want to let them know that their comments made me smile! Although sometimes it takes me a long time to get around to doing so because when I first read nice comments all I am capable of doing is making incoherent happy noises and grinning at my laptop screen.
What is the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Probably Defiance - I even added a note at the end with a reassurance that it doesn’t actually end in the way it seems to! (Despite the sad ending, please do read it though! It’s Arthur trying to defy Uther in a matter of using magic to save Merlin’s life...)
Do you write crossovers? Not really.
Have you ever received hate on a fic? Once. It was truly horrible and it almost put me off writing for a while, but some lovely people in the fandom encouraged me to ignore it and carry on!
Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 😉😉 I do indeed! All different kinds! I started with a rather longer than I expected Gwaincelot fic at the end of 2020, and then after a few more here and there, I opened the floodgates with Kinkalot! (More shameless self promotion of course - I shouldn’t be allowed to answer questions like this, I just turn the whole thing into a personal advert! 😂)
Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I’m aware of! I hope not.
Have you ever had a fic translated? About ten years ago or so one of my Glee fanfics was translated into Italian. The girl who translated it was lovely and translated all the reviews back into English for me as well!
Have you ever co-written a fic before? Me and my sister have co-written several Harry Potter fics together - but we’ve never finished any of them - maybe this year we’ll get to that....
What’s your all time favourite ship? Merthur. Hands down. It was my first ever ship and it will always be my favourite. But close second are Mercelot and Arwen and, of course, Gwaincelot 😉 (and many more!)
What’s a wip you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I currently have 81 wips.... I really want to finish all of them, of course, but I know some of them will never be done.
What are your writing strengths? I think I’m good at description and little details to make things really seem real. And lots of people tell me I’m good at writing dialogue - which I find weird, because I would have said that was one of my weaknesses!
What are your writing weaknesses? Sentence structure - I use far too many commas and run-on sentences. And too many adverbs. And sticking to a plan! I never stick to the plans I make before I start writing. And I’m not great at thinking up complex plots for long stories - although I would love to be able to write them.
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Oooh I love it, I’ve done a little bit of French, Italian and Spanish for a couple of bilingual characters in other fandoms before. And for Merlin fics I do it a lot. Using Old English for Merlin’s spells - creating new spells is one of my favourite things to do!
What was the first fandom you wrote for? Unofficially, Harry Potter - but that was before I had ever even heard of fanfiction or fandom, as far as I was concerned I was just playing writing with the characters. The first thing I deliberately chose to write and publish fanfiction for was... Twilight.
What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? Oh dear, that’s like asking a mum to choose between her children! I know it sounds arrogant, but I really do like all of my published fics - I wouldn’t publish them if I didn’t like them myself. Ummm... Can I pick three??? It’s my blog, I can do what I want. I’m going to pick three that I really like but that have been slightly overlooked in hit numbers on Ao3 (just because I am an utterly, utterly shameless self promoting prat)
1) Rub-Dub, Just Relaxing in My Tub - Ace Leon having a nice relaxing bath whilst all the other knights go to a brothel.
2) Of Tea and Dragons - Arwen - This is the first ever modern AU I wrote, Gwen meeting Arthur and Merlin in a tea shop.
3) The Prince’s Breakfast - Pre-slash Merthur - Morning domesticity interrupted by a cute kitten!
I know, I know. Ignore my self-indulgent promoting. But what’s tumblr for if not for advertising your fics! Ok, I’m done now! I promise!
Tagging: I haven’t been around on tumblr for a while so I have no idea who has already done this, so I am tagging ANYONE WHO SEES THIS AND WANTS TO DO IT!!! 💕 (Anyone who managed to wade through all of my self promotion deserves to do a little promoting themselves too!!)
Oooooh ooooh ooooh!!! Thanks Nony, I loved this one! I did have a little trouble writing it for some reason, I scrapped and started again four times before I got to this version, so I hope everyone likes this one 🙈
Merlin ducks as Lord Lucior swings a fist at him, bouncing away on the balls of his feet. The lord snarls and picks up the sword Merlin has just finished sharpening. He hefts it in his hand to test its weight then raises it towards Merlin, who is beginning to resent the fact Arthur lent out his services to the visiting nobleman.
“I don’t like your attitude, boy,” he hisses.
He slashes towards Merlin with the sword and Merlin only barely moves out of the way in time. He is backed up against the wall of the armoury, a quiver of arrows tumbling to the floor as he flails to get away from the lord’s second violent swing of the sword.
“I’m sorry!” he shouts quickly, not entirely sure what he’s apologising for.
“You will be very sorry when I’m through with you,” Lord Lucior promises.
The sword flashes forward faster than Merlin is ready for and he feels a sharp sting on his cheek. He lets out a small yelp and his fingers come away bloody when he raises them to touch the painful spot on his face. The lord just gives a satisfied smirk, raising the sword again for the next strike.
Wide eyed, Merlin dodges, his foot landing on a dropped arrow and slipping, sending him careening to the floor. He scrambles backwards across the floor to a large shield propped against a sword rack, ducking down behind it.
“Hey!” comes a shout from the doorway and Merlin’s heart soars at the familiar voice. Gwaine steps into the armoury, his cloak and chainmail draped over his arm. “What’s going on here?”
“Go away, this doesn’t concern you,” snaps Lord Lucior, waving a dismissive hand at Gwaine.
Gwaine scowls and flicks his hair out of his face. He glances over at Merlin, taking in the way he is almost cowering behind the shield and the blood on his cheek. He tosses his chainmail and cloak over one of the sword racks, fury radiating from every line of his body.
“Actually, it concerns me a lot how you’re treating my friend.” He strides across the room and grabs Merlin’s hand, pulling him up. He gives him a once over, his eyebrows pulled low as he checks Merlin is not severely injured. His jaw is clenched as he turns angrily to Lord Lucior and Merlin can feel the muscles in Gwaine’s arm straining under his hand as he fights to hold his temper. “I suggest you leave now and never touch him again.”
“He is an insolent peasant, and needs to be taught a lesson.” Lord Lucior raises his sword again, pointing it at Merlin.
Gwaine, his face like thunder, pulls Merlin behind him, his hand coming to rest on the pommel of his own sword warningly.
“Get out of the way,” Lucior shouts.
Gwaine lets his knees bend, crouching into a fighting stance as he draws his sword from his belt.
“Make me,” he growls.
Lucior snarls and lunges at Gwaine, his sword flashing as he slices down towards the knight. Gwaine, of course, is much quicker, parrying and knocking the lord’s blade point away, followed by a blow of his own that Lucior only just manages to stumble out of the way of. He is not a natural swordsman and Gwaine easily takes control of the fight.
Gwaine doesn’t wait for him to regain his footing, instead diving in with a quick sideways swing. Lucior pulls his sword up in time to block but Gwaine steps forward, pushing his advantage and sliding his blade along Lucior’s until the hilts lock together.
He twists the sword easily from the lord’s grip, letting it clatter to the floor, then presses him back against the wall. His blade is against Lucior’s chest, pressing tightly so the sharp edge slices the front of his fancy velvet doublet.
“I’ll tell the prince regent about this!” screams Lucior, indignation written in every line of his face.
“You just try,” Gwaine spits. “I think he’ll be very interested to hear about the way you treated his manservant.”
Gwaine steps back, pulling his sword away, but unable to resist flicking the tip at Lucior’s face, a thin red line marking his cheek the same as Merlin’s.
The lord is practically spitting with rage, but he is sensible enough to not make any more comments and merely pushes past Gwaine and leaves the armoury, his hand pressed to his cheek.
“That is why I hate nobles,” Gwaine says through gritted teeth, barely controlled anger simmering in his voice as he glares after him.
Merlin lays a hand on his arm, giving it a little shake. He huffs a sigh and turns to him.
“Thank you,” Merlin says as Gwaine drops his sword onto the table so he can cradle Merlin’s face with one hand, the other pulling his sleeve over his hand to wipe gently at the cut on Merlin’s cheek.
“Anything for you, Merls,” he mutters. Then shoots him a cynical smile and says wryly, “If he does tell Princess, I’m gonna be in trouble again, aren’t I?”
Merlin can’t help grinning, even though it does pull at the cut on his cheek. He shakes his head at Gwaine.
“You’re a knight now, remember; your word counts for just as much as his.”
Gwaine just grunts, his fingers trailing softly over Merlin’s cheek again, just below the cut. He sighs.
“Better take you back to Gaius.” And he draws Merlin against his side, his arm tight and protective around his shoulders.
I’m not going to specifically ask for more prompts this time, because I do have a couple more in my ask box to finish before the end of the month, but if there is one on the list you really want to see then I, of course, won’t turn it away if it happens to appear in my ask box! 😁
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
✨🎄💕👑❄✨🎄💕👑❄✨🎄💕👑❄
Chapters: 3/10
Fandom: Merlin (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hunith & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Hunith (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Will (Merlin), Balinor (Merlin), Gaius (Merlin), Mordred (Merlin), Freya (Merlin)
Additional Tags: Modern Era, Christmas Party, Meet the Family, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pretend Boyfriends, Enemies to Lovers, well not quite enemies, but not great friends, Friends to Lovers, Arguing, Banter, Affectionate Insults, oblivious to their feelings, prat and idiot, Idiots in Love, Eventual Romance, Arrogant Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Snarky Merlin (Merlin), Good lord making them admit they like each other sure is difficult, Getting Together
✨🎄💕👑❄✨🎄💕👑❄✨🎄💕👑❄
Summary: When Merlin’s mate, Will, was teasing him about being single, Merlin cracked and simply invented a boyfriend to make Will shut up. Unfortunately, his mum overheard and was so happy for him, that he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that it wasn’t true. Things got a little out of hand when Merlin continued to embellish the lie until he had a fully-formed pretend serious boyfriend that his mum wanted him to bring to the family Christmas party…
It was only when his friend, Gwen, pointed out that the boyfriend Merlin had made up sounded a bit like Arthur - who was part of their group of friends but not Merlin’s favourite person in the world - that the idea of asking the prat to pretend to be his boyfriend at the party formed. Perhaps not the best idea ever - Merlin just hoped to be able to make it through the party without anyone guessing the truth.
✨🎄💕👑❄✨🎄💕👑❄✨🎄💕👑❄
My Merlin Christmas Bingo fic - a bingo square for each chapter (3/10 chapters up so far, and new chapter every two or three days!)
So it’s a day late, but it’s here! Mini @mercelotweek day 5: Gifts!
Blackberries, Griffins and a Kiss For You
💕 Read on Ao3 HERE! 💕
“Oh,” Lancelot exclaimed quietly. He stepped around Gwaine and reached for a small cherry wood sculpture of a griffin. He turned it over in his hands, a chuckle rumbling in the back of his throat.
“I have to buy this for Merlin,” he said, lifting the tiny wooden creature up to his face.
“He likes griffins, does he?” Gwaine asked, confused. He’d never heard Merlin express any kind of fondness about them.
“Not particularly, no.” Lancelot chuckled again and moved over to the stallholder, holding the griffin statuette up and pulling out his moneybag.
Lancelot is a sweetheart and likes buying Merlin gifts. 🎁
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Helloo!! Another short little ficlet about resurrected Arthur failing to manage a simple everyday task in the modern world (which was partially inspired by a canon era fic where he fails at exactly the same task that is sitting in my wips folder only half written... (I’ll get to it at some point 🙈))
Day 3 - “Oh! You were going for a hug this time!”
“Here, let me help,” Merlin said, taking the electric razor out of Arthur’s hand.
Arthur’s hand fell to his side, his head dropping in defeat as he slumped down to sit on the side of the bath.
“I just can’t work it out,” he complained quietly.
Arthur was different since he’d returned from Avalon. He’d lost his confidence, become more reserved. And he was now prone to bouts of moroseness, drifting aimlessly around the house after Merlin, desperately trying to understand things, but more often than not being stumped by the simplest of tasks.
Like shaving. In Camelot, Merlin had shaved him, using a lethal looking straight razor. But modern Merlin did not own one of them and only had the electric one. Luckily, Arthur’s facial hair didn’t grow too quickly and he had managed to avoid shaving in the few weeks since his return. But now the scruffy stubble had begun to annoy him and after several days of running his hand over his jaw and grumbling, Merlin had dragged him into the bathroom to show him how the electric razor worked.
He had talked through what he was doing as he’d shaved his own face, then handed the razor to Arthur as he went to get dressed. After which followed a lot of swearing and muttering until Merlin went back into the bathroom to find Arthur covered in shaving foam and fighting with the cutting length adjuster.
He’d only just managed to hold back his laugh at the state Arthur was in.
“Would you like me to do it for you?” he asked now as he set the correct level, ducking his head to catch Arthur’s eye.
Arthur kicked his feet into the bathmat, sighing. He looked up at Merlin and nodded.
“Yes. Thank you, Merlin.”
Merlin had noticed that the resurrected Arthur also seemed softer, more inclined to be nice to Merlin. He even said thank you on a regular basis. And every now and then he would move towards Merlin as if going for a hug, before promptly seeming to remember himself and punching him on the arm or cuffing him around the ear instead.
“Of course. I always used to anyway,” Merlin said, letting them slip back into the familiar master and manservant roles that Arthur understood.
Standing in front of Arthur where he still sat on the bath edge, Merlin put one hand on Arthur’s cheek, tilting his head and stretching the skin taut as he pressed the electric razor to his jaw. Arthur’s body visibly tensed as he tried not to flinch away, his hands reflexively clenching in his lap. Slowly Merlin worked over his face until his chin and cheeks were smooth and slightly pink.
“There we are, all done, back to your usual clean shaven beauty,” he joked when he finished. He gently washed Arthur’s face and patted it dry with a soft towel before rubbing in some aftershave balm.
As Merlin cleaned out the head of the razor, Arthur stood up and admired himself in the mirror, turning his head from side to side as he slid a hand over his hairless jaw.
“Look good?” Merlin asked, putting the razor away in the cabinet beside the sink.
Arthur hummed his approval, nodding several times before turning away from the mirror.
“Well, um…” He brushed his hands off on his pyjama trousers, grinning sheepishly. “Thanks.”
He stepped towards Merlin with his hands raised. Merlin ducked away from him on instinct, expecting the customary fond smack around the back of the head.
“Merlin!” Arthur complained, his arms drooping and the expression on his face halfway between irritated and hurt.
“What?” Merlin pulled a face at him.
“I wanted to…”
Merlin’s eyes went wide and he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.
“Oh! You were going for a hug this time!”
“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur scowled and folded his arms, taking a step backwards.
“Oh come on,” Merlin wheedled, his hands jumping to Arthur’s arms, pulling him in closer again.
Arthur resolutely kept his arms crossed over his chest, not looking at Merlin as his newly bared face tinged even darker pink. He stuck his jaw out mulishly. No matter how much the resurrection had changed him, Arthur was still as stubborn as a goat. And now of course he was angry because he thought he had made a fool of himself, on top of his embarrassment at not being able to work the razor.
“Arthur…” Merlin chided fondly. He tugged Arthur’s arms away from his chest, slipping between them and wrapping them around himself. “Come on.”
Arthur gave in to the slightly awkward hug, his arms loose and his hand slapping Merlin’s back. But he didn’t try to pull away afterwards so Merlin tightened his own arms around Arthur’s shoulders. After a moment he felt Arthur sigh and sink into it.
He squeezed Merlin, the hands on his back snaking further around so Merlin was fully constricted in Arthur’s strong hold. Not that Merlin minded. He was hugging back just as firmly, one hand running up and down Arthur’s spine, keeping his pliant body against his chest. He smiled and rubbed his cheek against Arthur’s soft smooth one, feeling the warmth of his skin. Proof that he was alive. Proof that he was back.
A fluffy platonic bed sharing fic for me to indulge in my love of Gwen and Merlin’s friendship!
✨ Read on Ao3 ✨
Merlin sank down onto the edge of the straw mattress, his shivering making the whole bed tremor. Gwen giggled and Merlin’s ears went a little red as he wrapped his arms around himself as if he could hold his shivers still.
“Lie down and get under here,” she told him with fond sternness, lifting the blanket to allow him underneath.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“No, Merlin.”
“I can sleep on the floor, it doesn’t bother me, I –”
“No! You’ll freeze! And that wouldn't be fair anyway. Just get in.”
She flapped the blanket, regretting it as soon as she’d done it because the action sent a wave of cold air across her legs.
Written for @merlinladiesweek prompts: Favourite Platonic Relationship and Sharing a Bed.
For the Nony who asked for more Gwaincelot!! Hope you enjoy!
The rumble of thunder echoed behind the grumble of Gwaine’s groan. Lancelot pressed down harder on the wound, ignoring Gwaine’s stammered expletives and angrily kicking feet. His boots were digging hard into the ground, trying to give him purchase to push away from Lancelot.
“I’m sorry,” Lancelot said through gritted teeth, his hands not lifting the pressure on Gwaine’s side.
The bandits had been fast and they’d outnumbered the two knights three to one. But Lancelot and Gwaine weren’t two of Arthur’s best knights for nothing. They had fought back hard, and eventually they had won. Except Gwaine had taken a dagger in the side halfway through the fight. Not that it had slowed him down much.
But as soon as the bandits had all been defeated, Gwaine had let out a strangled yelp and collapsed to his knees. And now that the adrenaline had worn off, Gwaine was in agony.
He groaned again as Lancelot carefully peeled back the wad of cloak he had pressed to the wound over Gwaine’s ribs. The bleeding seemed to have slowed a tiny bit and he put the pressure back on it quickly.
Continue reading on Ao3, fanfiction.net or below! 👇
“It’s stopping bleeding,” he told Gwaine reassuringly, but Gwaine just grumbled, dragging his hand through his own hair and biting his lip.
A few heavy raindrops fell from the branches overhead. Lancelot had dragged Gwaine under a large tree when the rain had become too heavy, trying to get the tiniest bit of shelter to stop Gwaine getting cold once Lancelot had removed his chainmail and gambeson to see the wound. He looked up at the darkening sky, the thunder still rolling in the air. The storm was definitely moving this direction. Lancelot just prayed that it wouldn’t come right across on top of them before he had finished treating Gwaine.
Taking one hand off the makeshift bandage, he caught Gwaine’s hand as it flexed in and out of a white-knuckled fist as he tried to breathe through the pain. He soothed his thumb over the back of Gwaine’s knuckles, just enough that Gwaine managed a slightly grimaced smile.
“Thanks, Lance,” he said, his voice gruff and strained.
Lancelot gave him a smile and squeezed his hand before letting go and pressing down hard on the wound again.
“Or not,” Gwaine gritted out, throwing his head back and kicking his feet again.
Rain lashed beyond the confines of their tree shelter. Suddenly the air around them lit up with the flash of lightning arcing across the sky, a tremendous crack of thunder making the whole ground seem to vibrate. Lancelot swore loudly, snapping Gwaine to attention, causing him to push up onto his elbows with a look of panic obscuring the pain on his face.
The storm had moved faster than Lancelot thought it would. If there was anywhere Lancelot really did not want to be in the middle of a storm, it was out in the open, under a tall tree and wearing a suit of metal.
“We have to move!” He pulled the wadded cloak away from Gwaine’s wound, straightening it out into a long strip which he wrapped around him and tied as tightly as he could manage.
Standing hurriedly, he fought against the buckle of his belt, ripping it from his waist and dropping it to the ground, then yanked his chainmail up over his head. He flung it away, kicking Gwaine’s already discarded mail further from them as well. He refastened his sword belt, jamming Gwaine’s sword into his belt beside his own.
“Lance!” Gwaine was struggling to pull himself up to his knees, putting a hand on the tree to balance.
Lancelot snatched Gwaine’s hand off of the bark, hoisting his arm over his shoulder and tugging him to his feet. Gwaine let out a yelp but gripped tightly to Lancelot’s gambeson, holding himself upright as best as he could.
“Come on!”
Pulling Gwaine away from the tree, Lancelot started moving, crouching as much as he could while supporting Gwaine’s weight. They staggered out from under the tree’s branches into the rain.
“Where… can we go?” Gwaine gasped, his wet hair whipping against his face and sticking to his cheek as he looked around. He lifted a hand to push it away, smearing blood across his forehead as he did so. Lancelot wanted to reach over and wipe it off but they didn’t have time for such triviality right now.
“There’s a little valley along this way,” he said over the roaring sound of the rain, pointing to the south. “Can you manage?”
Gwaine’s face was already screwed up in agony, his hands grabbing at Lancelot so tight his fingers were digging in through Lancelot’s gambeson. With the colour of the cloak tied around his middle it was hard to tell if the wound was bleeding again, but from the way he was sagging, Lancelot suspected it was.
“I’m fine,” Gwaine insisted, earning a scoff from Lancelot. “Let’s go.”
It was slow moving and Lancelot’s heart was in his mouth, racing and thudding in his ears. Gwaine stumbled at his side, his teeth gritted as he tried not to whimper. The air was a constant rumble of thunder, unrelenting and deep.
Tufts of thick grass and rocks tripped them as they moved across the open hill. Lancelot hoped he was doing the right thing; his instincts were screaming that getting to low ground was their best chance of surviving the storm. But having to be so exposed as they made their way there worried him.
He felt the prickling, tingling feeling under his hair, the static in the air fizzing around them. Get low, his mind was repeating to him, as low as possible and hope that the lightning reached for the trees and not them. He pulled Gwaine down, squatting and wrapping his arms around his head, cradling Gwaine against his chest, his head under his chin.
The paleness of Gwaine’s face was lit up by a flash a moment later, the dark bloody smudge in stark contrast to the ashen colour of his cheeks. His eyes were half lidded, looking slightly glazed.
A second lightning bolt followed immediately after, this time striking the tree they had been sheltering beneath just mere minutes before. The bark splintered, flames licking over the smaller branches, and Lancelot saw a fork of lightning streak from the branches to his abandoned chainmail on the ground.
Immeasurably thankful that they’d moved when they had, he wasted no time hauling Gwaine up again, apologising profusely when he cried out in pain.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but we have to keep moving, we have to get to the valley,” he panted, his voice sounding shrill even to his own ears.
“I’m slowing you down,” Gwaine mumbled.
Lancelot cut him off before Gwaine could even think about suggesting he leave him behind.
“I’m not leaving you. We’re almost there.”
In truth they were still a fair way from the valley, but Lancelot was determined they would get there. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shift the uncomfortable pressure that was building all down his spine. He readjusted his arm around Gwaine, pulling him closer against his side and got him stumbling forwards again.
“Nearly there, nearly there,” he heard Gwaine muttering under his breath, his voice laced with agony and fear.
Lancelot repeated the mantra to himself as they struggled on, Gwaine’s feet getting clumsier and tripping often. His hands were heavily shaking, his grip wavering on Lancelot, but Lancelot just tightened his own grip and towed him along. He could see the dip of the valley up ahead them now, the gentle curve of the earth as it wound towards the brook at the valley bottom.
Their way was illuminated by many more flashes, the crash of the thunder beginning to hurt his ears. The tree behind them crackled with fire still, a beacon and a warning, the terrible groaning of the wood sinking fear into Lancelot’s stomach.
He was shivering, drenched with rain, but as they crested the ridge of the valley – finally – he felt small glimmer of hope sparking in his chest. Gwaine collapsed, stumbling over the uneven ground, and Lancelot caught him. Dragging him far enough down the slope of the valley that they were well below the level of the hill. He held him steady as he too sank to his knees.
Practically pulling Gwaine onto his lap, he let his hands roam down his chest to the edge of the blood soaked cloak and resumed pressing down on it to stanch the bleeding. It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d feared, the blood slowly oozing not gushing.
“I’ve got you, we’re alright,” he murmured and Gwaine managed a shaky grimace that Lancelot interpreted as a smile.
Praying that they were indeed safe, Lancelot took Gwaine’s hand and squeezed it. Now they just had to wait out the storm.
