A/N: HAPPY 100TH CHAPTER EVERYONE 🍾 🎂 🎊 🎉
[Third Person POV]
Arthur lay sprawled across his bed, one hand resting lazily on his stomach while the other propped up the back of his head. His eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling above. His thoughts were a tangled mess, shifting between worry, doubt, and the strange sense of inevitability that had been gnawing at him for years.
Then, ever so slowly, a face slid into his field of vision—mischievous, and far too close for comfort. Merlin's bright eyes sparkled as she rose into view as she was levitating above him.
"So," she asked in a teasing, sing-song voice, "what are you thinking about so intensely, hmm?"
"Jesus Christ!" Arthur yelped, jolting violently as his body nearly shot upward in pure reflex. For a split second, he almost punched her on instinct. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest.
Merlin, completely unfazed by the near-assault, hovered horizontally in midair, planking right above him as if gravity were merely a suggestion. Strands of her silvery hair floated around them, brushing lightly against his cheeks. She grinned, obviously delighted by his startled reaction.
"Merlin!" Arthur barked, glaring up at her with wide eyes. "What the are you doing, you absolute weirdo?"
She tilted her head, looking far too pleased with herself, and slowly drifted closer until she was comfortably lounging on her stomach in the air. Resting her chin in her palms, she kicked her feet lazily behind her, swaying back and forth like a cat enjoying the view.
"I was going to begin your lessons in your dreamscape," she explained matter-of-factly, as though this kind of entrance were perfectly normal. "But you weren't falling asleep, so I decided to come check what was keeping you up."
Arthur dragged a hand down his face, groaning. "Did you really have to do it while floating directly above me?"
"No," she admitted with a sly smile, "but it's much more fun this way~."
To prove her point, she began to slowly rotate in the air, her long hair cascading downward like a waterfall. A few rebellious strands brushed across Arthur's nose and lips, carrying a faint but unmistakable fragrance—cherry blossoms mixed with a hint of fresh earth after rain. It was oddly soothing, even as it made his heart skip a beat.
"So," she continued, her tone suddenly softening, "what's got you awake in the middle of the night, hmm?"
Arthur exhaled a long, tired sigh, scratching his cheek in frustration. "I… I didn't expect being honest to be this hard. Isn't there some saying about how the truth sets you free? 'Speak the truth and your heart shall be set free,' or something like that?" He gave a small, humorless laugh. "Well, I sure don't feel any freer."
Merlin's expression shifted from playful curiosity to quiet intrigue. "So, are you saying you regret telling the Flamels the truth?"
"Kinda," Arthur admitted after a moment, his voice hesitant. "But not for the reasons you might think. It's not like I didn't want them to know. I just… I keep worrying that by telling them, I might've dragged them into something dangerous without realizing it. What if keeping them in the dark would have been safer? What if I've already put them at risk, and I can't take it back?"
His words spilled out faster than he intended, his anxiety written plainly across his face.
Merlin studied him silently for a few seconds, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "Arthur," she said at last, her voice calm but probing, "what exactly is it that you fear so much? You've always carried this strange urgency about you, this sense that you're running out of time. You push yourself harder than anyone I've ever met, you rush headlong into things like every second counts. It's like you're constantly looking over your shoulder. So tell me—what do you think is chasing you?"
Arthur froze, blinking up at her in stunned silence. Of all the questions she could have asked, that one hit deeper than he was prepared for. The words echoed in his head, unraveling thoughts he'd buried for years. He sat up abruptly, driven by an instinct to respond, only to collide with Merlin's forehead in a sharp, painful crack.
"Ughhhhhh!" they groaned in unison, recoiling back—Arthur clutching his head while Merlin floated backward, rubbing her brow with a pained wince.
Arthur eventually slumped back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. "I… honestly don't know," he admitted at last, his voice low. "Maybe it's my arrogance. Maybe it's this… this belief that I'm not ordinary. Because I'm not, am I? I mean, I can't be. I'm a reincarnator. A Pendragon. My bloodline is tied to the purest legacy of the legendary King himself. People like me don't get normal lives. Being 'special' comes with enemies, with trials, with… expectations."
He paused, eyes darkening as his thoughts spilled into words. "And because of that, I can't shake the feeling that my life is meant to be some kind of grand story. And every story—every single one—has a climax. A breaking point. And climaxes…" His voice faltered. "…they usually end in death. Friends. Family. People I care about. Someone always pays the price."
Merlin remained silent, her gaze fixed on him, unreadable but attentive.
"That's why I push myself," Arthur continued, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles turned white. "That's why I train, why I fight, why I can't stop. Because if I can get stronger—strong enough—maybe I can stop it. Maybe I can keep the people I love safe. But I'm not a fortune-teller like you. I can't see the future. I don't know what's waiting at the end of all this. And as much as I pretend to be fearless, as much as I try to play the hero…" His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment the mask slipped. "…the truth is, I'm terrified."
Merlin drifted forward, her bare feet barely brushing the mattress as she floated with effortless grace. Without a word, she wrapped her slender arms over Arthur's shoulders, pulling herself close until her soft hair tickled his cheek. Then she eased down beside him, landing so lightly it was as though the bed had welcomed her.
"You," she began with a sly, knowing smile, "are indeed incredibly arrogant for believing the entire world might revolve around you…" Her voice lowered to a near-whisper as she rested her chin against his shoulder. "…but you have every right to be."
Arthur gave a small, crooked half-smile at that, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips. Her words were teasing but laced with an honesty that made something warm flicker in his chest.
Merlin pushed herself upright again, just enough to meet his eyes as she continued. "It's perfectly natural to fear the future. Everyone does, Arthur. You're not alone in that regard—it's practically human nature by now. And it's fine to make plans, to prepare, to try and guard against what's coming. But there's a line you're toeing." She tapped his chest lightly with one finger. "When you start obsessing over what might happen, you forget to live in the present. That's when fear stops helping you and starts chaining you down."
Arthur listened in silence, his gaze softening with every word.
"As for the Flamels," Merlin added, her tone turning gentle but firm, "their knowing your secret changes nothing. They were already implicated the moment you knocked on their door over two years ago. If someone dangerous wanted to come for them, it wouldn't have mattered whether you said a word. The only difference now is that they know the truth, and knowledge can only help them. Nothing else about their situation has changed."
Arthur exhaled heavily, rubbing his cheek with a sheepish look. "I… suppose you have a point," he admitted reluctantly.
Before he could say more, Merlin cupped his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks until his lips puckered like a fish. "Of course I do," she declared, eyes sparkling mischievously. "But more importantly—you are not alone in this, Arthur. You never will be. You have me, don't you? I'll always be here, supporting you every step of the way. So count on me, alright? Use me to your advantage."
Arthur's face warmed beneath her palms. His voice dropped to a near, soft, murmur. "I already feel like I rely on you more than anyone else. Sometimes… I feel like I'd be useless without you."
"…"
Merlin blinked. A visible sparkle seemed to shimmer around Arthur as he looked at her with quiet vulnerability, sparkling with his soft baby doll eyes, as though the very words 'reliant on you' were glowing in the air above his head. Her heart gave a violent thump, and for an instant it felt like an arrow of pure cuteness had pierced straight through her chest.
'Sooo cuuuute!' she shrieked inwardly, her face going pink.
"Come here and give me some sugar!!" she suddenly shouted, throwing herself at him with explosive enthusiasm.
"W-What are you doing?!" Arthur yelped, flailing as she tackled him flat onto the mattress. Merlin's arms stretched toward him, her lips puckered dramatically as she made exaggerated smooching noises.
"Don't fight it! Embrace the moment!" she cried, attempting to pin him as she leaned in.
Arthur struggled, laughing despite himself as he pushed against her face. "Merlin! What is seriously the matter with you, you psycho?!"
"You're the weird one—afraid of a little sugar!?"
"There is seriously something wrong with you!"
The two rolled across the bed in a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter, each trying to overpower the other. Their fingers locked, muscles straining as they wrestled for dominance. Merlin, still making ridiculous kissing noises, tried to straddle him, but Arthur shifted his weight and finally managed to reverse their positions.
With a sudden burst of effort, he pinned her wrists above her head, bracing himself over her. "That's enough!" he said, breathing hard but grinning.
Merlin looked up at him through her tousled bangs, eyes glittering with amusement. "Wow… I didn't know you had it in you~"
Arthur's face went crimson. "S-Shut it…" he stammered.
But then Merlin's playful grin faltered into a mock-serious expression. "Arthur," she said softly, tilting her head, "should I be concerned?"
His brow furrowed. "What?"
"I mean…" she continued, eyes widening in exaggerated innocence, "…you're blushing while holding an eleven-year-old girl down on a bed with her hands pinned above her head. I—I just can't help but wonder if I should be worried about what kind of taste you have as a reincarnated man."
Arthur froze, staring at her in utter disbelief.
Merlin drew a dramatic breath, puffing out her chest as a fake blush spread across her cheeks. "But… if I must sacrifice my body to satisfy your insatiable lust and keep you from going after other little girls, then so be it! I can endure it!" She squeezed her eyes shut and quivered theatrically, lips trembling.
Peeking through one eye, she saw Arthur staring at her with a flat and unamused expression.
Without a word, Arthur raised his hand, folding his middle finger against his thumb until only two fingers remained poised together. A faint crackle of energy flickered along his knuckles.
"Eh?" she squeaked.
"Third-Tier Magic," he intoned with deadly calm, "…Reinforced Forehead Flick."
"W-Wait, no—!"
CRACK!
"AAACHKKK!!" Merlin's yelp echoed through the room as she shot backward like a launched projectile, clutching her forehead as sparks of magical energy fizzled in the air.
Arthur sighed, brushing imaginary dust from his hands as he muttered, "Serves you right."
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