WingedTerror
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Summary
It happens gradually. It begins with the repaying of a debt. Merlin saves his life before he even knows him, when all he's seen is a prince with a fragile ego and composure more brittle than dry dirt.
And so Arthur is tied to Merlin.
Devotion is a funny thing, coming from a King.
Series
- Part 7 of Time of magic
Bookmarked by WingedTerror
22 Mar 2026
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Merlin hums, making Arthur look back at him and Gods—Arthur already knows what he’s going to say even before his plush lips can grace the shape of the syllables. And yet, it hits him all the same, the gut punch of words delivered by a man whose praise seems worth its weight in gold.
Merlin leans in closer, breath almost ghosting along Arthur’s skin as the binds come undone.
“Good boy.”
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All the times Merlin calls Arthur a good boy and the times Arthur seeks it out, then what happens when the praise stops.
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“No,” Arthur said. “Absolutely not.”
Both Merlin and the tiny bundle of fluff that he was holding gave him identical pleading looks, which Arthur told himself was not in the least endearing. “Arthur, come on,” Merlin wheedled, hugging the squirming puppy a little tighter against his chest. “Haven’t you always wanted a dog?”
OR: Merlin adopts a puppy. Arthur has absolutely no problems with this whatsoever.
Series
- Part 280 of Merlin Fic
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,875
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 39
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- 381
- Bookmarks:
- 48
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Bookmarked by WingedTerror
20 Mar 2026
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Summary
“Um,” Merlin says, avoiding his eyes. “That’s a…druid greeting. I’ve been among them for so long, I…didn’t think about how it would seem to you.”
Arthur blinks. Of course. That makes more sense than whatever scenario was starting to form in Arthur’s mind, of pushing Merlin against the wall, of sticking his tongue—
Anyway, this just makes more sense, is all.
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Arthur, desperate to show he can embrace traditions other than his own, and for no other reason, especially not having to do with how nice Merlin’s lips feel, starts greeting Merlin the druidic way.
Bookmarked by WingedTerror
20 Mar 2026
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Summary
Merlin wakes to the sound of his wooden, frail bedroom door creaking open. Through his tired eyes he watches a figure slip past the threshold–familiar but worrying for this isn’t something that they have done before–and shut the door with a gentle click, so as to not wake his mentor on the other side of it.
“Arthur?” Merlin sits up in his bed, his thin blanket pooling around his waist. The moon shines in from the small window near the ceiling, helping the adjustment of his vision to the darkness. He hopes the redness leftover from his earlier crying isn’t obvious with the streak of moonlight entering through his window. “What are you doing here? Is something the matter?”
“No,” Arthur answers, voice wavering on something that tells Merlin the opposite, “nothing important.”
Merlin frowns. Because yes, it is important if it’s the reason for his weighed down shoulders, the furrow on his forehead, the vulnerability shining through his distant eyes.
Bookmarked by WingedTerror
20 Mar 2026