Ooh, I Always Love Thinking About The Implications Of Arthur's Soul Being Created By Magic.

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au to celebrate the Merlin tag randomly trending recently! Enjoy! :D

This au starts at the Disir episode, arguably one of the biggest turning points of the entire series: when Arthur refuses the Disir's deal of where returning magic to the kingdom in exchange for Mordred's life. Well, what if Merlin himself was the one injured by the Disir? Merlin would survive, of course, but Arthur did not know that.

And, without Merlin there to advise him, Arthur was left following the only compass he had at the moment: his heart. And, for once, his heart's message was loud and clear: he could not lose Merlin. He took the time that the Disir gave him to think over their offer, but his mind was made up the moment that the three prophets offered him a chance to save Merlin.

As Arthur accepted the Disir's conditions welcoming magic into Camelot again, ignoring the horrified looks on the faces of the knights surrounding him, the three sorceresses grinned, but this time their smiles were far less menacing than before.

"You have chosen well, young king," One of the three began.

"You have passed the test put forth by you by the Goddess, and for that, she shall ensure your kingdom's prosperity," Another one replied, their voices overlapping and bouncing off of the stone walls of the cave.

"And my manservant will be safe? He will recover, right?" Arthur asked, trying desperately to rein in the panic that bleed through his voice.

"Yes," all of the Disir said softly in one voice, "when you return to Camelot, you shall find him there alive and unharmed."

The tension in Arthur's shoulders eased for just a moment before the prophets spoke again.

"To ensure your compliance with your vow, the goddess demands that you establish a connection to the Old Religion: an unbreakable bond that will forever tie you to its power."

Terror and panic shot through Arthur's body again at their words, a familiar dread filling him. The Old Religion always demanded some terrible price, and now Arthur had to pay one himself. He steadied himself before replying.

"What do you mean by that? What type of bond do you speak of?"

The Disir all turned to look directly into his eyes, their gazes so piercing that Arthur felt like he had been pinned in place by their eyes alone. When they spoke, it felt like their words were reverberating around his skull with their intensity.

"To seal your agreement, the Goddess demands your worship, but not towards her own self. It is the will of the goddess that you dedicate your worship and devote yourself to the god you have disrespected most grievously, the god that your father futilely attempted to wipe out entirely. The goddess wishes for you to worship Emrys, the god of all magic and lord of the druids."

Arthur winced as the name echoed inside his mind, almost chanting 'Emrys, Emrys, Emrys'. Arthur was so preoccupied with trying to gather his own thoughts that he almost missed the quiet, shocked gasp that Mordred let out at the name.

"This is your task, your debt to be repaid for the life of your servant. Devote and submit yourself to Emrys, Arthur Pendragon. Embrace magic in Camelot." Disir continued speaking as one, their voices piercing through Arthur's very thoughts so powerfully that he physically winced and stepped back with their force.

Finally, the sorceresses finished their speech, and Arthur took a few second to calm his own mind and reply.

"I... I understand. If my servant truly is unharmed upon my return to Camelot, then I shall do as you ask."

The horrified stares from the knights felt even heavier as Arthur agreed to the Disir's terms, forcing Arthur to stare straight ahead at the three cloaked figures to avoid their gazes.

To his surprise, the three Disir gave a short, but formal, bow to him, and disappeared into the air with a short "Go in peace."

Arthur stood frozen in the cave for a few seconds, as if a part of him was petrified by what he had just agreed to. The cave itself was near-silent, the only noise breaking through the tension-filled air was the quick, panicked breathing of his knights right behind him.

Finally, after Arthur no longer felt like he would break apart into tiny pieces at the slightest movement, he turned around, facing the knights, who all looked just as frightened and shocked as himself.

Well, all of them except for one. Instead of staring at Arthur with absolute horror, Mordred was looking at him with something that bordered on wonder. Arthur opened his mouth to ask Mordred why his reaction was so different, but the clamor of all of the knights suddenly descending upon him and demanding to know what was he thinking taking that offer? drowned Arthur's question out.

The only knight who hadn't descended upon Arthur in a frenzy was a surprisingly somber Sir Gwaine, who took hold of a momentarily overwhelmed Arthur's shoulder and steered everyone towards the cave's exit. Arthur caught the usually jovial knight's eye and saw approval and some sort of grim gratitude.

Ah, Arthur thought as the other knights berated him for his decision, Gwaine understood. These other knights, besides Mordred, were not of his inner circle. These ignorant knights thought that Arthur was giving up his kingdom for just any servant, but of course, Gwaine knew better. Perhaps, if the admiration that he had caught sight of in Gwaine's eyes whenever they looked in Merlin's direction was any indication, Gwaine knew exactly why Arthur had agreed to the Disir's demands so easily.

There's wasn't anything that Arthur wouldn't do for Merlin.

And that included overturning the ban on magic and inviting the Old Religion into his kingdom, into his soul, for Merlin's sake.

Arthur stayed silent on their return journey, and the knights' pestering slowly died down as they realized that Arthur was not listening to them. As they made camp for the night, Arthur was again lost in his thoughts, worried about the state that he would find Merlin in upon his return and anxieties over fulfilling the duty now put on his shoulders.

Arthur was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Mordred approaching him, walking slowly over to where Arthur sat, perched on a log and staring into the campfire.

Arthur startled slightly as the younger knight sat down next to him, his face oddly peaceful in contrast to the rest of the knights'.

"I know that the others will object, but I think that you made the right choice."

Mordred spoke softly, in a heartfelt voice that Arthur had never heard from the newer knight. Still, while it isn't quite as reassuring as Merlin's approval would be, Arthur appreciated Mordred's support.

"If I may, sire, I..."

Arthur watched, still silent and deep in thought, as Mordred trailed off, searching for the correct words for whatever he was trying to say. Arthur tried to give him a small, reassuring smile, but his internal turmoil and anxieties for the future twisted it into something more akin to a grimace.

"You know that I grew up among the druids, and I spend my childhood worshipping the gods of the Old Religion, even if I feel more distant from them as the years have gone by. Should you need any assistance or advice to fulfill your new duties, I would be happy to assist you."

Arthur's eyes widened at Mordred's words. That's right, he had almost forgotten that Mordred was the very same druid boy that he had rescued so many years ago. And if Mordred grew up as a druid, then he would know...

"Mordred, what do you know about Emrys? What can you tell me about him?"

If Arthur was going to be dedicating the rest of his life to a god of the Old Religion, he should at least know about said god's reputation, right? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps having more information on this Emrys would ease Arthur's dread just a bit.

To Arthur's surprise, Mordred brightened at the question.

"Of course! Emrys is a prominent god of the Old Religion and is of special significance to the druids. He's considered to be something of a divine king to most druid clans, including the one I grew up in. He's not just the ruler of all magic, but rather magic itself."

Arthur nods shakily, trying to take in what Mordred had told him. If Emrys really was some sort of king, perhaps he could be negotiated with? Arthur was far more familiar and comfortable negotiating with foreign kings than he was at appeasing a god.

The night went on like that until dawn, with Arthur asking questions and Mordred answering and telling tales of Emrys: his power, his mercy, his blessings.

Arthur was particularly interested in the story of how Emrys struck down one of his own priestesses with lightning for harming a kind old man who was under his protection. Based on Mordred's stories, Emrys seemed to be protective and to do well by those who followed his commands.

What would he make of Arthur, then? The man who had been a leader in the slaughter of Emrys's followers? Would he damn a man who had cut down those who prayed to Emrys for protection?

Who was Arthur kidding? If someone went around killing everyone who was under Arthur's protection, they would be tried and executed without hesitation. Why would Arthur expect any different from the god who was a king to the druids?

Arthur's dread and anxiety built as they reached Camelot again. Would Merlin truly be healed? What would happen when Arthur had to uphold his end of the deal? Would he be forced to leave Camelot to enact Emrys's will? Would his own agency be taken away, his body being made a puppet for magic itself?

(Even as such horrific scenarios flew through Arthur's head, if Merlin was saved, then he couldn't bring himself to regret what he had agreed to.)

As they rode through town and approached the citadel, Arthur's heart pounded in his chest with twisting dread.

Arthur's joy upon seeing Merlin waiting for him in the courtyard, with color having return to his face and relief shining in his eyes, barely overtook his dread for what was to come.

And that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed this au, and please let me know if you'd like to see a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

This idea is so dear to me! Because we see Arthur self-loathing so many times, both in relation to himself and his father's legacy, but it goes further beyond that.

There's a deleted scene from either "The Tears of Uther Pendragon" part one or two where Arthur is discussing Uther's descent into madness with Merlin. Arthur reveal's that Uther's father fell into a similar state later on in life, and Merlin "helpfully" points out that he learned from Gaius that those sorts of things tend to run in families. This leads to Arthur glaring at Merlin in anger at the accidental implication that Arthur himself would fall into a similar state of madness one day.

So, we can make a logical guess that Arthur, on some level, believes Pendragon blood to be cursed with madness and bloodlust. While it doesn't really come up again later in the series, we can assume that Morgana being revealed as Arthur's sister and becoming a tyrant only further solidifies this belief in Arthur.

To Arthur, he killed his own mother with his birth, having been born a murderer and trained form that day on to be the perfect warrior. To Arthur, he is damned by his own loyalty to slaughter as many people as it takes in the name of protecting his kingdom, and he's never known a single day in his life without blood on his hands.

And, on top of all of that, madness and tyranny runs through his blood, as evident from his father and half sister.

Arthur wants so very badly to be a good king, to be kind and protect his people, but he feels like he can never achieve that with all the lives he's taken and the evil that runs through his own blood. He could not carve out the part of himself he sees as rotten more than he could empty his own veins.

That's part of why Arthur is always so awed at Merlin's never-ending loyalty and kindness towards Arthur. Arthur sees himself as good for nothing except violence, and he does not know what to do with Merlin's soft care.

“something is rotten inside of me, i have to find it and cut it out” — house song; searows

I love it! You know what, the amount of bloodlust that everyone has had for Uther as a response to this gif has inspired me to do this:

I hope this slakes everyone's bloodlust! :D

This one's for all of you!

Congratulations! As per the results of the last poll, you all voted to...

Put Uther in the blender! 🥳

The first bonus scene for the "Archeologist Merlin and Immortal Camelot" story has been posted on ao3! This is the first of three bonus scenes that will serve as the epilogue for the story! In this bonus scene, the noble Knights of the Round Table embark on a brave quest to find an elusive magical artifact for Merlin: the treasured "grant"! (And ignore any banks they rob along the way!)

I hope you all like this new chapter! :D

I'll be finishing up and posting my Lancelot au idea in the next few days!

See you all again soon!

Ooh, I love these! OP, these gifs are crisper than a McDonald's sprite and I am forever in your debt!

ARTHUR

Merlin 4x01 | The Darkest Hour

That'd actually be such a great magic reveal, because Merlin would 100% be like "go ahead and tell someone, no one will believe you."

And Audrey would hate him all the more, both for making her look like a madwoman if she (rightfully) accuses him of stealing her cooked chickens using magic and for being fully capable of making her life so much easier by simply making Arthur's food with magic but refusing to.

I love it!

‘gwaine’s reaction to the magic reveal’ this and ‘leon’s reaction to the magic reveal’ that. focus. we need The Cook Merlin Had Unexplained Beef With’s Reaction to the Magic Reveal

You know what type of characters are my favorite? The ones that aren't just doomed by the narrative, but the narrative seems to have a personal vendetta against them.

I'm talking about characters who the narrative wants to fistfight to the death in a Denny's parking lot at 3am. Characters who get tied behind the narrative's truck and dragged through a minefield of angst and pain. Characters that the narrative will turn into a pathetic, sopping wet cat. Characters that the narrative will elbow slam into the floor from the top rope while they're down just for the fun of it.

I just love characters that don't pass the narrative's vibe check and get put through the horrors and come out the other side a different person because of it.

You all remember the gif I made of Merlin spinning in a microwave? Well, here's Arthur:

I still need someone to take photoshop away from me before I create more monstrosities like this.

BONUS:

Arthur in Avalon be like:

Reheating for 1500 years and he's still not done cooking. Damn. 😞

New chapter of my main project, which features an eldritch Merlin befriending Leon, has been posted! I hope you enjoy it! :D

YES!! I love this!

I will always go feral for Emrys's true form being something distinctly non-human, as Emrys is magic itself. Normally, I see that interpreted as Merlin's true form as Emrys being a giant, powerful creature, but this is the first time I've seen a version of that where Emrys makes himself smaller in a certain situation. I love it!

of the old religion

there are consequences to being a creature of magic, of the old religion, of power and energy given form.

merlin is not human, no matter what he thinks. the body he has is just a second skin, a coat over the tumultuous magic beneath, so that it had shape, form. he looks human, he thinks human, he feels human. but he is not truly human.

it’s why shapeshifting spells work so well upon him. he’s not changing himself, just the look of the skin he’s wearing. the magic beneath has no true form, and thus cannot be changed when it is everything everywhere all at once.

(the magic that makes merlin is the magic that makes the world, so it has no shape and to look upon it with mortal eyes would be a headache inducing, nauseating ever-shifting thing, that moves through different features of different magical beings like the water of a lake rippling.)

OR

someone with a deep connection to the old religion can see that emrys is no true human. just a creature of magic wearing a human skin, a shapeshifter that refuses to show its true form. (because people say emrys is magic, but no one truly understands the roiling thing living and breathing inside his skin. so obviously there has to be a true form of emrys underneath the image of merlin.)

so they decide to rip that human skin off. force the shape beneath to show itself. tear away the visage of merlin to leave behind only emrys, the creature that will bring magic back to the land or so help them.

it takes a lot of energy and power, and the use of ancient artifacts of the old religion that have been slowly gathering magic for centuries. but they manage it, they bind the human skin to an object, and tear the object away, to leave behind only emrys.

…

except emrys is not made for mortal eyes. especially not the eyes of someone who had hurt them and tore away their shape, their form. (because emrys, as a creature of magic, is still heartbreakingly young. a child, really. maybe that’s why merlin is still so wide-eyed all the time. still young at heart, even as his body looks older.)

so they look upon emrys and burn.

and emrys, lost and confused and hurt and not understanding— where is their body why do they hurt what is wrong with them they are constantly changing shapes and cannot control it and theyre so scared— flees to the only thing they know for sure. and behind them, amongst the mess of ash and scorched earth that once was alive, the object holding their skin lies abandoned, forgotten.

OR

arthur finds the embodiment of magic huddled up against his bedroom window. he doesn’t recognize it immediately as such, but it glows golden and cannot seem to stop subtlety changing shape and growing features that were not there before while losing others. and really, he picks up on the fact eventually.

to reiterate, arthur pendragon, son of the magic-hating king, a young man who had not yet decided if he would hate it the same, has the embodiment of magic hiding outside his window.

he shouldn’t open it. shouldn’t let the pathetic, forcing-itself-to-be-small thing inside.

it howls and cries without words, a sad and fearful air pressing down on him, begging begging helphelphelphelpsomethingswrongsomethingswrongtheytookawaymybodyarthurarthurarthurhelphelphelphelphe—

arthur opens the window.

as the magic flies in, it takes a more solid, in the loosest form of the word, form, dragon-like and small. young. it hides in the crook of his neck, tucks its head in close and shivers.

arthur feels almost like he has let in a frightened bird, it is so small and fluttery.

merlin’s gone missing and there is something small and magical and highly illegal hiding against the small hollow between his neck and shoulders.

he leaves it there.

OR

arthur holds a power he does not quite understand in his hands. he knows it is greater than its form, can feel the pressing weight of something that belies the tiny body.

he knows it is magic. perhaps that is all he really needs to know.

and then he does something that feels exceedingly foolish.

“i’m looking for merlin, my… manservant,” he begins, and the golden thing ripples like a lake in the wind, “can you find where he was taken?”

at least seven eyes blink into existence upon the roiling magical creature, all of them looking up at arthur. another blink, and then they vanish. in their place, wings sprout, some of them draconian in shape, others more bird-like and feathery.

a tail, tiny and yet impossibly strong, wraps around his wrist, and the thing takes flight, pulling him along.

the knights startle, when arthur appears, being seemingly dragged behind a creature no bigger than a songbird, and so breathtakingly magical in spite of it.

“well?” arthur asks, acerbic. “prepare your steeds. we’ve finally gotten a lead on merlin.”

OR

they find a wasteland.

there is nothing left alive in a large circle, all of it surrounding an ancient building now nothing but rubble. the life is not burned away, or diseased into nothing, or anything that could be argued as natural.

instead, it is a wasteland that magic had abandoned. that intrinsic thing within all things, alive and not, had fled this place, ushered out by a fearful and terrified little godling ripped away from the only skin-home it had ever known.

nothing lives here and nothing will ever live here.

it is an ill omen indeed.

and then they discover the sorcerer’s bones, and the fact that said sorcerer was not in fact working alone.

“you,” the only other living being in about a mile spits out like a curse, upon sighting the king, “what have you done with them? where is the being below the skin?”

none of the knights nor the king understand. the little creature of magic had hidden itself in the folds of arthur’s cape, another golden draconian insignia among the rest.

“the what?” arthur asks.

“where is emrys?” the sorcerer spits, summoning a stream of fire heading directly for the king.

magic itself, given form, bursts from the camelot red cape, all golden edges and vengeful anger, the tiny thing no larger than an arm suddenly expanding rapidly. it forms a gigantic serpent, or something like it, lithe and long, but with the beak of a bird of prey, eyes like a feline, a unicorn’s horn on its head. it eats the fire whole, and the giant form bears down on the suddenly cowering sorcerer.

“but—but we freed you,” they mutter, afraid, “we released you from the human shell containing you. how else… how else could you bring back magic…?”

the thing cannot speak, it has no way to do so. what it can do is press feeling into your head. whatever this is, it is so powerful everyone there can feel it, and perhaps even some that are much further away.

G I V E I T B A C K.

it feels nothing like the helpless pained crying that arthur had heard from outside his window, like a yowling alley cat. this monster is nothing like the little bird-like afraid thing that had hidden in his collar, tucked against his throat. this beast of dripping fangs and deadly edges is almost completely separate from the creature of fluttery wings and wide eyes.

and yet he can hear something distinctly afraid in the wailing howl.

it is still desperate and afraid. it’s just angry enough now to cover it up.