Leon The Long Suffering - Tumblr Posts
Merlin: Where are your knights? I have a new training session for them and you!
Arthur: Sword, mace, crossbow?
Merlin: No.
*slams books on the round table*
Merlin: Reading comprehension!
Gwaine: Aw, come on! That’s not necessary!
Merlin: The other day you all almost died because you couldn’t understand a cryptic message/ riddle from a mad sorcerer! You all should thank me for solving that problem!
Gwaine: Yeah, but, reading? Nah.
Percival: That’s not what I’ve signed up for when I became a Knight of Camelot.
Leon: I had hoped these days have been past me.
Merlin: You all wouldn’t know what to do with a book if it hit you in the head!
Arthur: Easy now! No weaponising of literature.
Elyan: Weaponising? Yeah, I could put metal clasps on those corners!
Merlin: Shut up! All of you! And read!
Gwaine: No wonder you got Poet on that ‘Are you a Soldier, Poet, King?’ quiz.
Merlin: Fuck you, Gwaine!
Gwaine: I certainly would..!
Arthur: WE ARE NOT HAVING THE ‘WOULD YOU FUCK YOUR CLONE’ DISCUSSION AGAIN!
Lancelot: *peacefully reading from the beginning*
So I went looking for crossovers between two of my favorite series and found distressingly little fic where the characters from both series actually interact so I uh. Did it myself. Enjoy :)))))
When Arthur was told that socerers had been caught, he was not anticipating the four writhing children before him. Pushed to their knees with a force that Arthur, if he weren’t the king, would wince at, they shouted…odd things. Like-
“LET US GO OR FEEL THE WRATH OF BOOMERANG!”
—that.
Arthur’s fingers twitched with the strain of resisting his most desperate desire; to pinch his brow. He’ll have a headache by the time this is done, he can feel it.
Their shouts weren’t the only thing that was odd; aside from the fact that they were literal children, they were all wearing…strange clothes. Vibrant reds, blues, and greens, in styles he’d never seen before.
They continued yelling, speaking over each other at a pace Arthur could not possibly hope to follow. A black haired boy dressed in vibrant red robes with gold accents (and just about the worst burn scar he’s ever seen holy shit) was quite literally spitting sparks. Not even mentioning the boy’s sparkling gold eyes.
Arthur wanted to sigh.
“Leon. What is this?”
“The…sorcerers, my lord.” Leon said, equally baffled. Arthur had known him long enough that he could tell what that specific pause and strain of the voice meant, thank you.
Arthur cannot keep from grinding his teeth. He moved his attention from the kids to his guard, who suddenly looked a lot less triumphant and a whole lot more scared.
“Why are there children on my floor, Sir Kent?”
The sweat visibly raced down the man’s forehead. Arthur absently wondered which droplet would fall from his chin first.
“The—they’re sorcerers, my lord.”
“Yes, I can see that.” As if the sparks and golden eyes didn’t already tell the tale.
“Okay, would someone mind explaining where the fuck we are?!”
Arthur jumped, and his eyes immediately flew to a small girl decked out in greens who, Arthur estimated, couldn’t be any older than fourteen. (Arthur did not have much experience with children, but what he did have experience with is overeager teenagers. Specifically, overeager teenagers trying to lie about their ages to become knights. That was a fun conversation to have with Lord Pelfrey.)
Several of his knights paled, and their eyes slid to her in their scandal. Arthur shuddered. If they thought that was bad, they should try to grow up with Morgana.
Arthur very, very quickly grew to respect women’s vocabularies.
“Toph!” The slightly older looking girl dressed in blues that matched her eyes hissed.
“I mean…that’s not exactly the worst way she could’ve asked,” Said the boy in blue.
“Sokka!” Screeched the girl who had a strange amount of likeness to the boy—to Sokka. Siblings, maybe?
“Cool it Sweetness, it’s not like we all haven’t heard worse from Sparky.”
“Hey! I don’t swear that fucki—that much!” The boy in red (sparky?) shouted. Arthur’s attention, and everyone else’s, it seems, was drawn to the shout. ‘Sparky’ faltered, then paled, and his widened (still gold) eyes nervously darted around the room.
The girl, (Sweetness? Not something that Arthur would ever name his child, but he had never claimed to understand the naming conventions of sorcerers) just hung her head in despair.
Arthur sighed. And finally gave into an urge he had been previously denying himself. He massaged his brow. Yup. There’s that headache.
“…You’re in Camelot,” Arthur said, and then sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time today. He really should’ve listened to the universe early this morning and just stayed in bed. It would’ve saved him so much trouble (and so many headaches.)
“Ha ha, real funny. I get what you’re trying to do here, I do. But you can’t get passed me, The Great and oh-so-wise adventurer Sokka. Where are we really?”
Arthur blinked. What? Do these children collectively have a head injury?
“He wasn’t lying,” said Toph.
Sokka spluttered. Arthur’s bad feeling increased tenfold. Yep. Definitely should’ve stayed in bed.
Then the room exploded.
Well okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. There wasn’t any fire or heat, but the floor moved, in a way that very abruptly reminded Arthur that these children were not just children and were, in fact, corrupted by the evils of sorcery.
Arthur shook his head, dazed. He pushed himself off his side and onto his elbow. His ears rang, and he reached toward the back of his head.
His fingers came away slightly sticky and with a familiar metallic scent—a scent that had cold dread pooling in his stomach.
Arthur pushed himself to his feet, even as he swayed. The floor moved and shifted under his feet, quite literally. Arthur leaned against the pillar he was thrown into. The air was clouded, filled with the dust and airborne sediment caused by shifting rock.
Arthur coughed, as his lungs desperately tried to expel the hazy air. He covered his nose and mouth with his hand. Lord knows breathing in this stuff can’t be good for him.
Harsh hacks echoed from every corner, accusing and mocking in turn. Arthur stumbled along, through the mounds of settling wreckage and to the wall—or, what remained of it.
Arthur stared.
Where his wall once was there was now a gaping hole, a jagged vulnerability. The sun bounced off the dust filling the room, leaving behind brilliant white afterimages that made Arthur blink. The sky shone a bright, brilliant blue, as if the wall to his throne room hadn’t just been blown out by the magical capabilities of a child. The sorcerers were nowhere to be found.
Uneven footsteps pounded their way up behind him in a familiar drum of worry. Arthur turned away from the crumbling wall.
“Sire, should I assemble the Round Table?” Leon asked, even as blood beaded in a shallow cut above his eyebrow.
Arthur hesitated. Too old eyes in too young faces flashed in a tantalizing vision of familiar pain. He closed his eyes and removed his hand.
Immediately, the smell of acrid smoke assaulted him. The memory of the sting of dust, the hacked coughs of the knights, and terrified eyes of Sir Kent.
“Yes,” Arthur said, eyes fluttering back open. Leon’s troubled blue gaze met his. An unpleasant weight settled in Arthur’s stomach, and this time he did not even try to resist the temptation to sigh.
“Ensure they are informed of the situation. We will convene in the council chambers and set off immediately after.”
Arthur’s eyes took one last sweep of the decimated throne room. The broken wall,
and the cracked floor; the people, servants and knights alike, climbing to their feet, white-faced and wide-eyed.
His fists clenched.
“We will stop these sorcerers. I give you my word.”
Arthur, yelling: MER-lin!!!
Merlin: If you like yelling my name so much I can make you scream it all night.
Arthur: *speechless*
Merlin:
Arthur: *blushing*
Leon, also sitting at the round table with all the other knights: Can’t you do this when no one is in earshot?
Merlin: Yes, at night, like I said.
Arthur: *combusts*
Here, have this picture I edited of Leon being eaten by a snake which I made instead of writing an essay due for tomorrow 🤗
Poor Sir Leon :(
As an apology for my last post, here’s a better edit of Leon :)
He’s just finished taking over Camelot xx
what if i
👉🏻👈🏻
rewrote the whole series
Arthur: On a scale of Leon to Lancelot, how impulsive are you feeling right now?
Merlin: *thinking*
Lancelot: I commit identity fraud one time, and suddenly I’m the bad example?
Gwaine: Sorry, you did what?!
Arthur: Would you like a list of the crimes you committed while keeping Merlin’s magic a secret?
Lancelot: …
Merlin: It’s not his fault!
Arthur: And the original question, Merlin?
Merlin: … Lancelot…
Lancelot: Merlin!
Merlin: Sorry.
Arthur: There’s my point. Someone go get Leon to keep an eye on him.
Merlin: I don’t need a babysitter!
Lancelot: I’ll keep Merlin out of trouble, sire.
Merlin: Lancelot can do it.
Arthur: No! The point is to keep you both from being stupid and impulsive!
Gwaine: I am learning so much today.
I want a fic where Leon knew Merlin had magic almost the whole time! At least after the first Round Table episode with all the other knights!
Leon who knew the whole time and still respected Merlin, if not more
Leon who also knew Merlin was tragically in love with Arthur and would do anything for him
Leon who really thought "poetry" meant "we're secretly lovers" but still never mentioned Merlin’s secret
Leon who got a laugh out of Dragoon when he stepped all over the knights!
It would just be so good and funny pleaseeee
Merlin, who gives Arthur his neckerchief for good luck before a tournament (he pretends not to know what it means) claiming "I heard it somewhere that doing this could bring you good luck" (he enchanted it to bring Arthur luck during the tournament). Arthur, who is trying to keep a stoic expression as he takes Merlins neckerchief and ties it around his arm. He clears his throat and tells Merlin "I won't need luck," before muttering a soft thank you that Merlin barely hears. He turns around wand walks away, his face bright red as he makes his way towards the tournament.
