AnachronisticVerbage
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Summary
A formidable creature of mythology destined to kill Arthur, or die trying.
So why's it chasing its tail in the middle of Gaius' storeroom?
“Cath palug.”
Merlin looks up from the stale scraps of bread he’s trying to convince himself he wants to eat, staring blankly back at Gaius.
“You what?”
Series
- Part 2 of Merlin
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Summary
On her deathbed, Queen Guinevere closes her eyes for the final time while hearing the confession of her dear friend Merlin- who it turns out, she didn't know that well.
Already filled with regrets for many things in her life (as, said, the fate of a dark-haired woman), she's now deeply convinced that everything could have gone better.
But what if she's suddenly given this second chance she longs for?
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Remember when Morgana hired a 14-year-old (Daegal was his name) to lure Merlin into a ditch for her to poison him? And then the kid has a change of heart and helps Merlin and dies at the end of the episode? All this while the guy who held Morgana and Aithusa captive is chilling at a feast with Arthur?
What if Daegal decided to help Merlin by finding Arthur? What if that evil dignitary died instead?Or: Percival has one (1) thought, Morgana and Gwen are complicated, Gaius has a help wanted sign in the window, and Arthur is so glad he knows about at least two plants.
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Merlin is magic, and iron hurts magical creatures.
How did Arthur not catch that before!A study in the lengths Arthur will go to confess in every way but with words.
Bookmarked by AnachronisticVerbage
02 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
That’s exactly what Arthur is worried about. It took the better part of a decade for Merlin to talk about the magic! His tongue has loosened considerably since Arthur repealed the magic ban the next day, instead of exiling or executing him (which had apparently been what Merlin expected him to do, because that arsehole refuses to give Arthur the benefit of the doubt), but that doesn’t mean he’s by any means an open book.
…
Sparring helps him get his thoughts in order. The rhythmic flow of blows, blocks, parries, and dodges. It’s not that Merlin isn’t an open book, it’s that Arthur has no idea how to read him, not nearly as well as he thought he could anyway. There’s betrayal in that, of course, but it’s impossible to hold it against him when his reasoning is so sound. It’s still a very careful practice to interpret Merlin’s goofy, offhanded comments about how often he’s feared for his life under Arthur’s stewardship seriously.
And isn’t it just terrible to know that the man you love has never once felt safe around you?
…“My ankles aren’t ‘delicate’— how’d you even know I fell?” Merlin is panting, breaths puffing into the evening air and face red with exertion. He had to have seen Arthur fall and come running, but he wasn’t anywhere nearby before Arthur fell.
Percival takes an opening to back away slowly until he can reasonably walk away without looking rude. He starts sparring with Leon.
“It’s so cute that you haven’t realized why I scratched up the inside of your armor yet.”
“Those are spells?”
“Sigils, but yeah. There’s one on your back that makes my palm bleed whenever your fat body hits it with too much force.”
“Sorry, it does what?” Arthur yanks off his gauntlets so he can grab each of Merlin’s hands in turn and inspect them. The left one has a faint scab across the center of the palm. “Fix it.” Merlin blinks at him, smile frozen on his face. “Fix the sigil. Make it do something else to alert you.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Merlin insists. “It’s like when a bucket handle digs into your skin—“
…
Arthur stares at the ceiling for most of the night wondering how much of yourself you have to deny to design a spell that alerts you by cutting your hand open.
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Summary
Nella Rose Potter, the Girl Who Lived.
Under the stairs at the moment, though not for long. She's about to receive a letter that will make things a whole lot worse before they get better.
***“I am not in the habit of returning house points once they have been lost, Miss Potter. Among us little people at least, choices have consequences. If that’s all —”
“It’s not that, sir,” she hastened to explain, surprising him once more. Most students were only too eager to latch onto anything that resembled a dismissal from his presence, and no one — ever — interrupted him. “I-I understand. I just… I live with my aunt and uncle, you see. They’re muggles.”
Snape didn’t answer, but the girl plowed doggedly on.
“Well, th-there was an a-accident at the end of the summer, sir. S-some of my potions ingredients spilled in my trunk, and I didn’t know w-what to do... M-my relatives thought I might get help at school?”
She swallowed hard, then reached into her bag and pulled out a horror of a textbook. The entire mold-stained cover slid off as she moved to set it on his desk, and a handful of ragged pages scattered as the book block landed on his desk with a damp thud.
Series
- Part 1 of Nella Potter