Uther begins to fear Arthur's strength and power he holds over his knights and banishes him. Arthur must then begin to fight to become the king he is supposed to be. In other words "Uther is deceived by an old friend, and Arthur is declared a traitor resulting in Arthur and Merlin fleeing from Camelot." *MAGIC REVEAL* Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Merlin belongs to BBC Completed: 28th January 2022

I decided to expand on my Methur fanfic, and start their story from the very beginning. Merlin is a young warlock who somehow finds himself as the manservant to the prince of Camelot. At first, he cannot stand his princely employer, but when the two start to spend more time together they realise that there may be a fine line between disgust and desire. © 2014, Chiara Sullivan. Cover credit: zazikelss.tumblr.com (used with permission).

Poem of Morgana's regret.

Percy and Annabeth meet at a ball. Their parents are enemies. They meet every night. Will their love be able to grow and survive, even during a family rivalry, jealous siblings, and other arranged marriages? They must be able to prove that love will triumph against all odds. Please excuse my terrible writing, I haven't gotten to editing and I will try soon. Also, I realized fried ice cream wasn't a thing in the Middle Ages. Sorry.

Book 2 They didn't ask. They ordered. And when the gods of Olympus give an order, you don't get to say no. "Bless Percy Jackson. He must be sent back in time... to fight as James Buchanan Barnes." I stood there, jaw tight, as the gods raised their hands. Even Chaos - the thing older than time itself - joined in. Some blessed me with hate burning in their eyes. Others with guilt. It didn't matter. Their power tore through me anyway. I felt it - my skin splitting, my bones burning, something ancient carving itself into my blood. I was being remade. Weaponized. Again. One thought clawed its way through the pain: Let him recognize me. Please. Let Steve still see me. The world broke apart. Brooklyn. 1943. The stink of oil and metal in the air. A heavy jacket clinging to my frame. Dog tags slapping against my chest with every step. I didn't remember hitting the ground. I was just here. And I was already running - down cracked sidewalks, around a corner - toward the sounds of a fight. There he was. Small. Scrappy. All heart. Steve Rogers, swinging fists against a man twice his size - and losing badly. Before I even thought about it, I was in the alley, throwing myself into the fight. Into the fire. The gods wanted a weapon? Fine. I'd give them one. But they would never own me. Not again. Disclaimer:I DON'T OWN PERCY JACKSON, OR THE AVENGER/ MARVEL MOVIES THEY BELONG TO RICK RIORDAN AND MARVEL IF I WERE ONE OF THEM I WOULDN'T BE WRITING ON WATTPAD only one so don't yell at me 😊