Behátland (Chapter 5 of Albion’s Destiny, a Merlin fanfic)
FANDOM: Merlin (BBC)
CHARACTERS: Merlin and Arthur (Merthur Canon fix-it WIP)
SUMMARY: Merlin cannot lose Arthur. And he won’t. What if he had called Kilgarrah a little sooner? What if he had been able to save Arthur’s life?
Would we finally get the Albion we dreamed about? An Albion where Merlin is the court sorcerer, sitting proudly at Arthur’s right on the round table? Where Merlin is respected, where magic is finally free? After all, we were promised this from the very start.
Arthur has begun to see his manservant in a new light. Will their relationship change when Arthur finally notices the depths of Merlin’s devotion?
The story that will attempt to fix everything we did not get in cannon. Featuring Merthur being gayer than cannon, and an absence of Guinevere.
RATING: Explicit (in later chapters)
(Read other chapters of this fic here).
Sorry, sorry, I know. I KNOW. You have every right to have written me off as dead. I am sorry. But, on the other hand, I have a new Merlin Arthur-comes-back oneshot called The Greatest Need (out next Friday) and the prologue of a new unnamed story where Merlin is a prince! That one will be out a couple of weeks from now though.
Anyway, here’s Merlin doing beautiful magic, and boys being boys.
Behátland means “promised land”. Pardon any other errors in the translation of old English, cos I used an online dictionary that only went word-by-word, slowly, one at a time.
Merlin didn’t consider himself a violent man. He had killed, of course he had, for his king and the kingdom. But he wasn’t vicious, or blood-thirsty.
But right now he wanted nothing more than to punch George in the balls before stomping on them with his sturdy boots.
Perhaps he was vicious.
“What,” he said a bit too loudly. “Is he doing here?”
Arthur turned from where he was waiting for George to hand him his sword. He was fully dressed. Arthur’s expression brightened on seeing him. “Merlin!” he said. “You’re here, thank God. You can leave now, George.”
The blatant dismissal did nothing to tame Merlin’s stink-eye as George left, though. He didn’t want that boy anywhere near his king. He marvelled at his own jealousy sometimes.
“Where were you?” Arthur whined. “I even went to the tower to look in your room. You were nowhere to be found.”
“In the library,” said Merlin as he tutted and fixed Arthur’s armour. George had left Arthur no room for movement. “I was going through the maps with Geoffrey again. The knights are already downstairs in the courtyard, Sire. We are ready to leave. I am sorry it took so long.”
“No, it–I–” stuttered Arthur, finally seeing the reason for Merlin’s constant tardiness. “I understand. You were busy. Next time, just tell me, and I will ask George to help me dress.” He sat down to allow Merlin to put his boots on.
“No!” said Merlin vehemently from where he knelt before Arthur. “You won’t have to ask him, Arthur. I will be careful. Just… sorry about this time.”
“You really don’t like him, do you, Merlin?”
“I am your servant,” said Merlin stubbornly. “I dress you.” He paused and thought for a moment. “He can empty the chamber pot.”