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    As a druid, Mordred had been raised on the stories of the old gods, of their lord Emrys and how his coming would mean freedom for their people. What he had trouble with was seeing Merlin -clumsy, gangly, grinning Merlin- as anything more than a faltering servant. That is, until Emrys shows him otherwise.

    Basically Merlin is a god and it’s time Mordred accepted this.

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    07 Jul 2026

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    Gaius hum noncommittally, “I think perhaps it’s time we had a proper discussion about your heritage.”

    He blinks. When Gaius spoke about his familial ties, he was either gleeful recalling his youth with his sister or remarking mysteriously about his nature as Emrys and his responsibility to the magical community.

    He tries for the first option, “Mum?”

    A shake of the head indicates no.

    “…the inherent cosmic-shattering nature of my general and unfortunate existence?”

    A scowl indicates annoyance.

    “What then?”

    The physician harrumphs and gives up on mixing things in vials, “Your father was a dragonlord.”

     

    Merlin and Balinor get to know each other for longer than an hour.

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    07 Jul 2026

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    “You burned me alive, as you burned me in every warlock I lived inside, in every sorcerer who asked my blessing. Your father slaughtered me by the hundreds and you by scores. Your weapon sought my throat always, and even when I lived beside you, in your service, I was forced to kill my own. I died by your word, Arthur, not the honor of your hand but the voice of your contempt. So Merlin died so Emrys died. You wonder why your fields grow ash and your cattle sicken and your people cannot conceive? You are responsible. I could not live in a land that had destroyed me.” His voice thickens, “I could not serve a man who wished me dead.”

     

    The rulers of the five kingdoms ask magic to choose who will draw Caliburn and so rule Albion.

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    07 Jul 2026

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    Arthur glances at him, but doesn’t stop to reprimand, “I told him I didn’t know what he meant. Then he spoke of many things. Said I was a figure of prophecy and legend.” His voice twists around the words, mocking them, “Said I was to rule all Albion. I was about to call him out as some sort of sorcerer’s trick, trying to trap me into oaths or pride, when he began to speak of another. A man I knew well, supposedly, who walked in my inner circle.” The king takes a sharp breath and raps his knuckles on the table, making Merlin jerk his head up, “I have little doubt he meant those who stood with me at the table. When the others come, I am going to eat with them, my men and my favored. And when we are done, I will speak to them of this, and I will know who has been lying to me all this time.”

    A quick reveal and a needed conversation.

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    07 Jul 2026

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    His manservant clears his throat, still on his feet with his hands folding around themselves, “It’s a spell. It’s the old language, from before men. It will end your curse.”

    Arthur looks up at him in disbelief, “It’s that simple?”

    Merlin shifts, eyes going somewhere past Arthur before darting down again, “Actually, it’s a fairly complicated spell. You’d need a magic user of considerable strength.”

    Arthur growls, crumpling the paper and tossing it down the table, looking down at his now unappetizing meal, “What’s the point, then? I’m never going to find a mage willing to read this off for me. While it’s nice it somehow missed you, I can’t rule Camelot with the people flinching every time I speak.” Never mind that was his father’s method.

    Merlin meets his glare, “The curse didn’t pass me over, Arthur.”

    “Of course it did!” he objects, “You haven’t been acting like everyone else. You're not afraid of me.”

    He smiles then, soft, and says nothing.

     

    Prompt Fill: Arthur’s cursed by a witch to experience his worst fear.

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    07 Jul 2026