He discovered it on the first day I met him. ( sheepishly -- he honestly hasn't gotten any better at covering it up. arthur is just dumb.
max's excitement in response to excalibur is quickly reflected in merlin's features, a doofy smile broken across his mouth -- excalibur! famous! it's been tossed into the back of his mind, mostly, tossed into the lake of avalon, awaiting the time when arthur will be ready to wield a sword stronger and greater than all others. fit for a king, whenever arthur gets there. that max knows it speaks facts that he does get there -- of course he does, merlin always knew that, it's just something else to hear it from someone who live sin a world where is has happened, instead of it will. the sword may be in a different hiding place now, moved from where merlin placed it , but that doesn't stop him from taking the lure max sets out. )
I'll have to think of a riddle to help you on your quest to find it.
( as long as you don't use it, but nah. it was made for arthur, and max won't find it, probably. unless merlin tells him.
still, he's captivated by their magics swirling together, teasing and playful and catching merlin's watchful eye with a kind of understanding, some sincerity in the movement. max is a talented sorcerer ( witch, he says, and merlin promises to get more used to that ), perhaps even with a skill currently outweighing merlin's own, which excites him more than anything. he's desperate to learn, always, to find teachers of old and new who guide him down the magic course, who holds his hand and walk him through what wonders he's capable of. the wispy tips of his blue flame tickle and kiss the embers of max's, playing quick games of tag and chasing around merlin's fingertips, which draw a giggle from him, quiet and low.
drawing his flamed hand closer to max, with a step between them, he clasps his palm slowly onto his fiery one, shushing the blue flame in the scant space between their hands, until it's extinguished -- to the naked eye, perhaps, but it isn't gone. instead it's within max now, merlin's magic all blue and homey and ancient feeling -- licking up his veins and the paths his tattoos had set, perhaps a little overwhelming from sheer power, but it's a magicy comfort nonetheless. these flames don't bite and they don't burn, but they embrace max from the inside, brushing friendly kisses against his shoulders and the back of his neck. merlin hums his contentedness, his first ever attempt at channeling seeming to be mostly successful, keeping his hand on top of max's. letting him enjoy it, an overflowing feeling of magic being controlled by merlin himself. )
So long as there are good people to use magic, it can never be a bad thing. There will always be people who seek to harm with this power, but... the people who embrace it, enjoy it, use it for protection and healing and magic tricks and kind mischief -- those are the true witches between us. They are who will bring peace to this world, not Arthur, not alone.
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max's excitement in response to excalibur is quickly reflected in merlin's features, a doofy smile broken across his mouth -- excalibur! famous! it's been tossed into the back of his mind, mostly, tossed into the lake of avalon, awaiting the time when arthur will be ready to wield a sword stronger and greater than all others. fit for a king, whenever arthur gets there. that max knows it speaks facts that he does get there -- of course he does, merlin always knew that, it's just something else to hear it from someone who live sin a world where is has happened, instead of it will. the sword may be in a different hiding place now, moved from where merlin placed it , but that doesn't stop him from taking the lure max sets out. )
I'll have to think of a riddle to help you on your quest to find it.
( as long as you don't use it, but nah. it was made for arthur, and max won't find it, probably. unless merlin tells him.
still, he's captivated by their magics swirling together, teasing and playful and catching merlin's watchful eye with a kind of understanding, some sincerity in the movement. max is a talented sorcerer ( witch, he says, and merlin promises to get more used to that ), perhaps even with a skill currently outweighing merlin's own, which excites him more than anything. he's desperate to learn, always, to find teachers of old and new who guide him down the magic course, who holds his hand and walk him through what wonders he's capable of. the wispy tips of his blue flame tickle and kiss the embers of max's, playing quick games of tag and chasing around merlin's fingertips, which draw a giggle from him, quiet and low.
drawing his flamed hand closer to max, with a step between them, he clasps his palm slowly onto his fiery one, shushing the blue flame in the scant space between their hands, until it's extinguished -- to the naked eye, perhaps, but it isn't gone. instead it's within max now, merlin's magic all blue and homey and ancient feeling -- licking up his veins and the paths his tattoos had set, perhaps a little overwhelming from sheer power, but it's a magicy comfort nonetheless. these flames don't bite and they don't burn, but they embrace max from the inside, brushing friendly kisses against his shoulders and the back of his neck. merlin hums his contentedness, his first ever attempt at channeling seeming to be mostly successful, keeping his hand on top of max's. letting him enjoy it, an overflowing feeling of magic being controlled by merlin himself. )
So long as there are good people to use magic, it can never be a bad thing. There will always be people who seek to harm with this power, but... the people who embrace it, enjoy it, use it for protection and healing and magic tricks and kind mischief -- those are the true witches between us. They are who will bring peace to this world, not Arthur, not alone.