#merlin reader insert

A knock on the chamber door broke you from your contemplation, and you called a gentle “come in,” before turning to watch a servant enter. She carried a polished serving tray in one hand and, to your surprise, a vase full of flowers in the other.

“Good morning,” she greeted with a respectful curtsy, “I have your breakfast here, as well as flowers I was instructed to deliver.”

“Thank you,” you replied, standing to make your way toward the table. You stopped at the spot where she had set the flowers, taking a moment to marvel at the delicate blooms—a cluster of white daisies with splashes of blue forget-me-nots mixed in. “Who sent these?” You asked, glancing up at the maidservant who had just finished laying out breakfast.

“They’re from Sir Leon, my liege.”

Sir Leon. You bit back the smile that tugged at your lips, looking back down at the flowers.

“I believe there is a note as well,” she added, gesturing to the parchment that you hadn’t yet noticed tied to a stem. “Is there anything else I can get you, my liege?”

“No, thank you,” you shook your head, and with another curtsy the maid departed. As soon as the door had closed behind her, you reached down and tugged the note free, smoothing the scrap of parchment against the table.

I’m sorry I could not greet you when you arrived last night, though I hope to make it up to you. Meet me at noon at our spot.

Now you really couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. Two years was far too long to have been away, and your stomach fluttered at the thought of Leon wanting to see you as much as you wanted to see him.

You ate your breakfast quickly, though you knew it would be several hours before Leon would be there to meet you. You could only pray that the time would fly by.

The two of you had never officially courted, but all of his fellow knights —and quite a few others besides— were well aware of the romantic feelings that existed between you. It had happened several years past when your kingdom was renewing its treaties with Camelot; you’d found yourself spending quite a bit of time here, assisting your Queen in the negotiations. You had met Leon before, but this time he’d been assigned to protect you when a threat was made against the new treaty, and as a result you’d grown quite close.

You could hardly wait to see him again, and when noon finally rolled around you practically skipped down to the place where you were set to meet. Your ‘spot’ —as he had written in the note— was an old oak that spread its branches over a secluded castle courtyard. You and he had spent many hours there, any time during your visits that you’d both had a free moment, and it had become a place quite dear to your heart.

Now, as you neared the door that would lead you out into that familiar courtyard, you slowed your pace. As you got closer and closer, a hint of nervousness wormed its way through you—what if something had changed between you in the time you’d been away? You knew Leon to be incredibly loyal, but it had been a long two years and you feared that perhaps he’d finally lost interest. The door before you stood ajar, and stepping up to it you peeked through to the courtyard beyond.

There, under the sprawling oaken branches, stood Leon. His curls fluttered in the breeze, and from his shoulders cascaded the bright crimson cloak of the Knights of Camelot. At the sight of him, all your previous doubts were swept away. You were brought back to the warm days spent in this very spot, laughing, talking, wondering at the future. Where he stood now, you could see him shifting back and forth, scuffing his feet against packed earth —A nervous habit. You almost chuckled at the thought that perhaps he was just as nervous as you were.

As quietly as you could manage, you pushed the door wide enough to slip through and entered into the courtyard. Here, the sun filtered in patches through the leaves of the oak, and only the faintest breeze reached down to tousle your hair. Creeping closer, you did your best to school your face into a neutral expression.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The knight jumped, spun to face you, then immediately broke into a grin. Rushing to meet you, he opened his arms and you quickly fell into his embrace.

It was the warmest, most comforting hug you’d had in two years.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, words meant just for you.

“I missed you too,” you told him, wrapping your arms tighter around his waist.

As seconds stretched to minutes, the two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, silently making up for far too much time spent apart. Finally, you gently pulled away.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long, the Queen has been calling on me more than ever.” Leon just shook his head, face still lit by a warm smile.

“I understand, you have your duty as I have mine.” After he spoke, Leon took a long moment to look you up and down, as if checking to make sure you weren’t going to disappear. Though you were no longer hugging each other, his hands stayed on your arms, reluctant to break contact completely.

“You look amazing,” he finally commented, looking back into your eyes. You could feel the heat creeping into your face then, and marveled at the fact that the handsome knight could still make you blush so easily.

“I could say the same to you,” you managed to get out, reaching up a hand to brush a curl from his forehead.

Just then, voices drifted out from the corridor behind you, and both you and Leon glanced back, watching to make sure no one was coming out into the courtyard. You didn’t really have to hide your relationship, and certainly didn’t make much of an effort to do so, but this was a private moment; considering that fact that you’d not yet entered into any sort of official courtship, it wasn’t entirely proper to be meeting in secret like this.

When the voices had passed, Leon returned his gaze to you.

“How long do you have?” When he asked, you could hear a hint of apprehension as he wondered whether you would soon be whisked away to attend important political matters.

“All day,” you replied, and the way his face brightened, it was as if the sun itself had come out from behind the clouds. “I don’t have any court matters until late this evening, I was hoping to spend the day with you,” you confessed.

“I would love that,” his words came as a breathless whisper, and soon he was leaning in, lips just barely brushing yours. You closed the remaining space, and the kiss was so sweet and gentle, you practically melted into his arms.

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…

The man standing next to him seems to sense the mix of confusion and internal turmoil going on in your head. He shoots a quick glare at the King and looks back up at you. He looks familiar, you know you’ve seen him around the castle before, always at the King’s side. He smiles softly up at you, his eyes a striking shade of blue.

“What Arthur is trying to say is, come on down here so we can make sure you’re safe!” He chuckles as he finishes his thought, raising his hand up to you.

The minute the words leave his lips, your blood runs cold. It didn’t hit you at first, you were too out of it to realize what was happening when the King first spoke. But now you understand. You’ve waited so long for this moment, your entire life and it has the audacity to arrive at the one moment in which you wish it hadn’t. You know those words. Both of those phrases, actually. They’ve been etched into both of your forearms from the second you were brought into this world. So this is Arthur.

There wasn’t a moment growing up when you weren’t belittled and looked down upon for having two soul marks. You realized something was up when you were around seven, you could hear your parents speaking in hushed tones in the kitchen at night when you were supposed to be sleeping.

“Goddamnit, Girard! You know she’ll never be accepted. I’ve spoken to her teacher, and the other kids are already noticing she isn’t normal!” You remember your father sighing and resting his head in his hands, seated at the table. You were so young, you didn’t understand why you were so different? You had two soulmates, so doesn’t that just mean you get to give and receive twice as much love? Unfortunately, the world didn’t see it the same way. As you grew up, the whispers that spread around your small village weren’t really whispered anymore. You’ve heard it all, people who don’t even know you calling you things like ‘a worthless whore’ and ‘that goddamn harlot, poisoning the sanctity of our good town’.

You made it a point, not to listen to them. You ignored them as you passed, not giving them so much as a glance. But you were still quite young, and that’s a point in time when girls, in general, are particularly sensitive, and given the circumstances, you were no exception. Slowly, their words crept under your skin until they had a hold on your mind. You slipped into a depression, now it had its ups and downs. Throughout the years though, they were mainly downs. And right now? You’re as low as you’ve been since the beginning.

For most of your life, you never had anything against your soulmates, they seemed nice enough. If not, slightly abrasive. But you were sure you’d love them and they'd love you, that’s how this is supposed to work, right? That slightly optimistic sentiment didn’t stop you from wearing long sleeves at every waking moment, even under the sweltering sun you refused to replace your heavy wool shirt with a lighter garment. You were done being shamed for something you couldn’t control. To be honest, you’d grown a little bitter towards the entire concept of soulmates, wishing more than anything to finally fall into the arms of those who would accept you unconditionally, but never having the time arrive. Never having your soulmates arrive.

By the time you had made the decision to leave your small village and travel to the castle, almost everyone you had grown up with had already found their love, but you were still alone. They were lucky and often either discovered them very young or had their soulmate stop by, traveling from city to city on a mission for whatever ingredient to make whatever remedy and such. When you left, you’d accepted the reality that you just weren’t going to find your soulmates any time soon. Maybe you wouldn’t find them at all? Was this all a punishment for a sin committed in another lifetime? God, you hoped not. But now? Now you know that it is most certainly not like that.

As you snap back to the present, nothing but dread fills your veins. It seems that your mind is entirely incapable of comprehending the gravity of the situation. You utter the only word that makes sense.

“No”

Your gaze is glued to the two men below you. Your soulmates. One is the King of Camelot. This doesn’t make any sense. There must be some mistake. It’s only when their eyes widen in understanding is it that you know there hasn’t been one. You’re frozen in place, not daring to make the first move. Your soulmates turn and look at each other, faces slack with shock. The intensity of the moment seems to be hitting them as well. You see the King close his eyes and swallow, turning his head back up to you. His eyes pleading and his voice wavering as he barely manages to whisper out.

“Please”

Your heart breaks at this little show of vulnerability. You swallow what’s left of your pride and decide that maybe this path is worth going down, despite it coming at the most inconvenient of times. You finally break eye contact with the humbled man and look down. You can’t deny him of this request, and not because he’s your king, but because he’s your soulmate. You can feel it. You don’t even know who these men are, not truly, but you can feel a pull towards them. You want to be with them. This must be what everyone is talking about. When you look at them again, the only information your brain provides you with is ‘safe safe safe’ so you decide to lower yourself down until you’re sitting on the stone.

You can almost feel the sense of relief that washes over the two men because of your decision. You feel a half-grin growing on your face at how adorable they look. You stay seated for a minute to take it all in. Arthur has his armor on and a big red cape draped from his neck. He definitely looks quite regal, not to mention the crown resting upon his head. The man beside him is much the opposite. He’s wearing a blue shirt almost entirely covered by a brown jacket. What really stands out about him though is the red scarf wrapped around his neck and the brown boots crumpled down at his feet. These are your soulmates. You don’t know what you were expecting, but this definitely wasn’t it. Well hey, you’re in no way complaining.

You position your arms to push yourself to the ground but your focus is interrupted by a pair of hands on your waist. You look up and it’s Arthur, making sure you land safely. If it were anyone besides these two men, you would’ve freaked out by now. But this feels right. Like his hands belong on your hips and that they’re finally coming home. As he places you down on the ground, he leans over and whispers a word of thanks in your ear for not taking his soulmate away from him. Your heart flutters at the proximity of your faces, even if it was just for a second. He backs away and looks at the ground, leaving the other man to do the talking.

“Well, I’m not quite sure what the proper etiquette would be in this situation... but hi, I’m Merlin” he shoots you a cheeky grin, “your soulmate, and this clotpole over here,” he says, gesturing at the King, “would just so happen to be my soulmate and your other soulmate, Arthur”

After a somewhat lengthy pause, you realize that it’s now your turn to introduce yourself.

“Oh, uh, hi, I’m (y/n). I didn’t really think this moment would ever come” you say with a slightly cynical edge to your voice. “But it did! So, it’s really good to finally meet you guys” you perk up, realizing that this is, in fact, real life. You can see that Merlin’s eyes have drifted up to where your sleeve has ridden up slightly. Out of habit, you push the fabric back down and cough as you look to your feet. Finally, Arthur breaks his silence.

“Would you like to join us for dinner? I can have the kitchens bring us up anything you’d like to eat.” The thought of having a real meal for the first time since you'd left your village sounds extremely inviting, but you don’t want to provide anybody working in the kitchen with any more work than they would have previously had.

“That’d be wonderful!” you say, a genuine smile on your face for the first time in months. “I’ll just have whatever you two are having.”

“Brilliant!” Arthur says with a dazzling smile painted across his face. “Follow me” He grabs your hand and drags you and Merlin through a maze of hallways.

***

You’re surprised when Arthur leads you to his private chambers. You would’ve thought he’d bring you to something akin to a dining hall. ‘Castles have those, right?’ You think to yourself. His decision to take you into his own room seems much more intimate, and that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

In the time that you’ve been in Arthur’s chambers, you’ve learned a bit about the two men you now get to call your soulmates. Arthur and Merlin met long before Arthur was crowned as King. They knew immediately that they were soulmates, but neither of them made a move. Merlin was too nervous and Arthur feared what his father would think. Then shit hit the fan and Merlin ended up getting assigned the title of Arthur’s loving manservant, much to both of their dismay. The time they were forced to spend together brought feelings bubbling to the surface that both of them had been trying to suppress. They all spilled out one day when Merlin put his life on the line for Arthur, and Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. He yelled at his servant for being so stupid and careless, Merlin didn’t get upset because knew Arthur. He could read between the lines and realized that Arthur was petrified at the thought of losing Merlin. Merlin decided, to hell with it, grabbed Arthur’s face, and kissed the life out of him. It was that day that they finally admitted to themselves and each other that they were hopelessly in love, damn what the rest of the kingdom thinks.

‘They’re perfect’ you think to yourself, and just like that, you can feel the doubt start to creep back in. You know that you’re all meant to be together, but you can’t help feeling like maybe you aren’t? Like there isn’t room for you, they’re goddamn perfect and their love story is beautiful. After all, soulmates aren’t supposed to come in threes, and Merlin and Arthur found each other first. A knock on the door snaps you out of your daze and before you know it, Merlin is off of his feet helping the maid to bring in the food. The kindness in his heart brings a smile to your face.

Once the meals are on the table you catch yourself staring at it. The food looks delicious, better than anything your parents made you back home. It wasn’t their fault, they did the best with the resources they had at their disposal. You swallow the lump in your throat and realize just how out of your depth you are. You can feel yourself begin to shut down, and you feel a little guilty considering how hard the boys clearly tried to make this evening special, but you just can’t help yourself.

You can hear Merlin and Arthur talking back and forth like they’ve known each other their entire lives and you can’t help but feel slightly left out. Not because of anything they’ve done wrong, they can’t help how long they’ve known each other. But you can’t help feeling like they’d be better off without you getting in the way and messing with the flow of their relationship. You can tell that they’re trying their best to include you. They’re asking you questions about your interests and where you grew up, but you reply only with one or two-word answers and fiddle with the remaining food on your plate.

Suddenly everything just crashes in on you and you can’t take it anymore. Every time either one of them laughs it feels like a knife in your heart, confirming you aren’t meant to be here. Not really. You can feel the tears pooling up in your eyes and the shame that you’re crying over this causes heat to rise in your cheeks. This just so happens to be the moment Merlin looks away from gazing adoringly at Arthur. He notices your distress and confusion contorts his face.

“(y/n), what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Arthur looks over too, his concern evident. That’s it. You can’t take the thought of them pitying you. You stand up forcefully, the chair almost falling backward and rush out of the door into the maze of hallways, hoping you can find your way out. You ignore the calls of the two men behind you that care so much for some goddamn reason.

***

Before you knew it, your feet have taken you back to the forest, just beyond the line of trees where you set up camp. You had no place to stay inside of the kingdom, so you didn’t even try. You had no money to stay at an inn and you knew how to survive on your own anyway. Your camp was really well put together, you didn’t need to live in the kingdom.

There you lived, day in and day out. You refused to step foot back in the castle or anywhere close to the kingdom, despite how much you wanted to. If you were being honest with yourself, you were absolutely terrified of running into Merlin and Arthur again. You know that they’d accept you back with open arms, but the shame and embarrassment still burned fresh in your mind because of your less than graceful exit. You wish you would’ve been able to pull yourself together and give the, what was it? A budding relationship? You don’t know, you didn’t stay long enough to find out. To give, whatever was forming, a shot. But you were too caught up in your own head, and you get that. It happens from time to time. It’s just a part of who you are at this point.

It was completely silent in your little nook of the forest for at least a week or so until one day you’re awoken by the gallop of horses. You groan and roll over, covering your head with your makeshift pillow in an attempt to muffle the sound. Suddenly the galloping stops, but you didn’t hear the horses or their riders leave the area. You hear what sounds to someone hopping off of their horse and that’s when a booming voice breaks you out of your sleep-filled haze.

“Show yourself, you thief!” Oh if that’s not just exactly what you need right now. You honestly didn’t steal a single thing, you’ve been foraging and hunting to survive, and it hasn’t been all too pleasant. You sit up and scrub at your eyes before shuffling out of the shelter you had crafted.

You make eye contact with the owner of the voice and your heart seems to stop. It’s him. It’s them. It’s Arthur with Merlin at his side, because where else would he be? They seem to have the same reaction. You cringe and wait for this to all blow up in your face, but you’re shocked when you feel arms encompass you. You embrace the warm body and you feel more at home than you have ever before in your entire life. You look up and see Arthur smiling warmly at his two soulmates, finally together again. You shift your head and burrow into Merlin’s neck, hugging him as if your life depends on it. Arthur sits down next to the two of you and when you finally come up for air, you turn to him, his arms outstretched.

“My turn,” he says, and you happily oblige. He’s a bit harder to hug, the bulky armor getting in the way and all, but in your gut, there’s that same feeling. Home. The three of you are all huddled on the soft earth, a little bit of a mess. Once he gets around to letting go of you, you look back to Merlin.

“Why…” he stutters over his words “why did you leave? Did we do something wrong? We were so worried, we searched practically the entire kingdom looking for you.” Your heart immediately breaks, you can’t imagine what they must’ve thought when you took off. If they’re anything like you, and you sense they are, they had to have been blaming themselves.

“Oh guys, of course you didn’t. You’re perfect. Too perfect. I just. I felt like I was intruding on something that really didn’t need me to begin with.” You have a hard time enunciating what was going on in your head, but you hope they’ll understand. Neither of them say anything, but they look at each other and it seems as if they’re speaking without talking. They simultaneously reach down to pull off their right boot.

You see what they’re going for the minute they’re off. There, on their Achilles heel, is one simple word, "No". You knew it was on them somewhere, it had to be, but actually seeing the dark print forever etched on their bodies is an entirely different thing. Arthur looks you dead in the face and says.

“(y/n), I know that we don’t know you very well yet. But we will. I promise you with everything in me, if you give us the chance, we will love you until the day we die. It’s all right here,” he says, gesturing towards the pair’s ankles. “Soul marks don’t lie” you feel a blush rising on your cheeks and you shoot Arthur a smile.

“Not everything is going to be perfect all the time,” Merlin says, “but where’s the fun in that? We want to be with you, (y/n). We want to get to know you for you, and I promise, you’re never going to get in the way. You’re a part of this now, as long as you’re willing.” You recognize that this last statement is almost a question and you can’t help but fall back into their arms, trying not to let go of the tears that are threatening to spill. You hope that this provides them with any answers they’re seeking. You’re overwhelmed again, but this time it’s with happiness and a sense of belonging you certainly never experienced back home. Right now, though? Right now you’re redefining home and you couldn’t be happier. What Merlin said is definitely true. Nothing will ever be perfect, you’ll never be happy one hundred percent of the time, but you’re with two people who are willing to work with you and do everything they can to make you feel welcome. This is all you had ever wanted growing up, it’s what you had convinced yourself that you would never find, but it’s all here in the palm of your hand. You’re damn sure you’re not going to let it slip back through your fingers again.

***

I will admit, this one is much easier to read on AO3 because of the formatting, but for the second fic I ever wrote, I’m pretty dang proud of this oldie. 

You were sure that Merlin was dead. You’d seen the explosion on the screens back in Statesman HQ. There was no way he could have survived it. Or so you’d thought.

An hour after the moment that had stopped your heart, Eggsy had made contact with Statesman to tell everyone that he, Harry and Merlin were on their way back to HQ. You figured that he just meant his body and, instead, waited for only Eggsy and Harry in the lobby.

You never expected Merlin to walk through the door with them too.

You were on your feet in an instant, sprinting towards him and throwing your arms around his neck, your legs wrapping around his waist. He was covered in dust and debris but you didn’t care because he was here.

Merlin was smiling, his arms holding you tight against him. He’d thought a few hours ago that he’d never see you again, but here he was, holding you once more. Bless those bomb and bullet proof underwear and socks that Statesman had given him.

After a while, Merlin moved to step back from the hug, but you shook your head. “No, you don’t do that,” you muttered. “You scared the shit out of me. I’m never going to stop hugging you.”

He chuckled and rubbed your back softly. “Okay, love,” he mumbled.

When you finally broke apart, you still continued to hold onto him. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and your arms had just loosened their grip around his neck. You smiled as you looked at him, not caring about the tears that were cascading down your cheeks. Merlin moved a hand to wipe one of the away.

“I love you,” you told him, needing to say those words again. Words that, hours ago, you’d thought you’d never get the chance to say to him again.

Merlin smiled and leant his forehead up against yours. “I love y’ too, love,” he replied.