The Lost

The Lost

The Lost

More Posts from Mightybog and Others

8 months ago
archiveofourown.org
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Merlin/Arthur | Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 500

Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Survival | Injury Recovery

For @merlinmicrofic with the prompt "starting over"

Merlin and Arthur find refuge in a small broken down cottage

☾ ☾ ☾

Before Arthur knew what was happening, his hand was on the hilt of his sword. He almost evicted Merlin from the mildewed thing they called a bed. 

Cold hands found his neck, his face in the dark. “It’s just thunder, Arthur.”

He lay back down and Merlin lay on his chest. Their hearts slowed together. The rain on the broken roof went on.

“I’ll work out the spell, I promise.”

Gone, for now, were Merlin’s entreaties for Arthur to return to Camelot. They would face whatever came next together.

Arthur drifted, until water dropped down on his forehead. He groaned.

Arthur strode across the small, disused field, carrying a hare by its ears. It was dusk and ahead of him was their temporary salvation, a little lopsided cottage, with a field of its own taking root on what was left of the roof. 

When he let himself inside Merlin was there to greet him, making no secret of the fact he had been peering anxiously though the little window. 

“I caught a hare,” Arthur told him.

Merlin grimaced but nodded. “I heard it screaming.”

They needed more than the meagre meals they had made of fried hazel catkins and cleavers.

Merlin was making use of a sturdy ash rod they had found while they were still running, the burns on the outside of Merlin’s right leg and his feet were still healing and the tightened skin gave him a limp. But he was dispelling any illusions Arthur had of his frailty, advancing on him now like a storm.

Arthur dropped the rusted hoe he’d been using.

“I told you! There’s no use in planting when we’ll just have to run again!”

“Your spell...”

“There’s no spell!”

“There could be if-”

“If I try? You do it, if it’s so easy!”

The ground was uneven here in the green wood. Merlin told him that this place had been used by a charcoal maker, he had no doubt that the earth here had once smoked hellishly. He checked their traps. The woods went on. But where was Merlin? Where did he leave him? Feelings of temporary safety, images of holding Merlin in a suntrap somewhere fled from him. He panicked, called his name.

Then an answer. “-thur! Arthur!”

He saw him, ran, caught him.

“Arthur! I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” he soothed, then he grinned. “My spell worked a little too well, then?”

Their little shelter was golden with the morning sun and so, just for a moment, were Merlin’s eyes. Arthur found he couldn’t let go of his hands, feeling they might just fall to their knees in relief otherwise. They were safe, anyone who tried to find them now would be gently guided away.

“Promise me this isn’t forever, Arthur,” Merlin beseeched quietly. “Promise me we’ll return and you’ll be king.”

“We will return, when the time is right, when you’re healed and we have a plan.” He pulled him close. “Until then…”

“Until then…” Merlin’s eyes fell to Arthur's lips.


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1 month ago

Our Japanese class found it funny that in common terminology "food" isn't very distinguished from specifically "rice" until it was pointed out to us that in English "meal" is "loose roughly ground grain"

6 months ago
The Wyrm's Garden

The Wyrm's Garden

2 months ago
Leonid Pasternak  (Ukrainian, 1862–1945) - The Torments Of Creative Work

Leonid Pasternak  (Ukrainian, 1862–1945) - The Torments of Creative Work

11 months ago

the great thing about medieval literature is that it returns us to a time when men were men and women were women, *insert gritty realism gif here*, featuring such important and eternal gendered characteristics such as

(M) Why Would I Learn To Think Critically When I Could Find a Random Damsel In The Woods To Tell Me What To Do

(F) Demands To Be Brought The Heads Of Her Enemies

(M, to F) Be Mean To Me, No, Meaner Than That

(F) Meticulous Maintenance Of Social Connections And Alliances Via Writing Letters

(M) Crying

(M) More Crying

(M) Even More Crying, While Being Held Tenderly By Brother In Arms

(F) Necromancy

(M) Meticulous Maintenance Of Social Connections And Alliances Via Mistaking Friend’s Identity, Attacking Him, Then Kissing And Making Up

(F) Expert Medical Practitioner

(M) Self-Care By Episodes Of Madness In The Woods

(F) Owner Of Haunted Castle

3 months ago
Credit: Mauro Spumini On Pinterest

credit: mauro spumini on pinterest


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mightybog - Your Local Bog/Otherworld
Your Local Bog/Otherworld

She/Her | 31 | Herbal Tea EnthusiastInterested in: hurt/comfort, fairytale retellings and folkloreCurrently down an Arthurian rabbitholeLeMightyWorrier on Ao3

296 posts

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