To Write a Fan Fiction, a merlin fanfic

To Write a Fan-Fiction by Emachinescat

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

SUMMARY: In which Arthur decides to write the greatest fan-fiction ever, Merlin is scarred for life, and Emachinescat continues to satire everything that wanders into her line of sight.

A/N: Hey guys – another random one-shot crack!fic satire of DOOM… this one just popped into my head right before I was about to go to bed and instead of getting sleep, I had to write it or the plot bunnies were going to ally with the dust bunnies under my bed that are already planning on killing me. O.o' Scary prospect, I know! Also, please don't be offended by anything – I've used nearly all of the things in this except for the last, which I poke fun at in nearly every crack!fic lol and it's just showing a pattern that I've seen in a wide variety of fics INCLUDING my own! :) Don't mean anything by it. That's my disclaimer, although I don't think anyone will have a problem with this fic. Please REVIEW! :)

To Write a Fan-Fiction

Merlin was slightly nervous as he approached Arthur's chambers. He had been getting ready for work – definitely not sleeping; of course not, he never overslept – when a messenger had pounded on the Court Physician's door, informing the slightly disgruntled Gaius that the prince wanted Merlin right away. When Merlin had spoken to the boy, he had said something about how Arthur had concocted a brilliant plan and wanted Merlin to make an appearance as soon as possible.

A brilliant scheme? Merlin had grown to become wary of the words Arthur, brilliant, and plan in the same sentence, or even the same paragraph. Arthur was slightly reckless, always jumping into things headfirst (not that Merlin was any better, but at least he had magic to back him up – all Arthur had was a shiny pointy stick that he liked to parade around the kingdom). And Arthur's plans more often than not involved using Merlin as a distraction, making Merlin be the bait, Merlin as a stepping stool, Merlin as the target… basically, Merlin getting the short end of the stick – the very short end!

Grumbling about obnoxious, bossy masters and stinky stables, Merlin trudged into Arthur's room without knocking – because he never knocked and if he did, Arthur would be suspicious that something was up, even if it wasn't – and demanded, "What's this oh-so-brilliant plan that I've heard you've come up with?"

Arthur glared at Merlin from where he sat at his table, surrounded by various papers, quills, and books. "Sit down, Merlin."

Still wary, Merlin did as Arthur said and tried to take a peek at the papers, commenting, "I thought you finished up the tax reports last night."

Arthur grinned. "Yes. This is part of my plan – my wonderful plan that you are going to be a part of!"

Merlin grimaced. "Does it involve slipping idiotic letters underneath Morgana's door or putting a sign on Gwen's front door that says she's a loser? Because we did that last week and I, the innocent victim forced to go along with it, nearly got my head taken off by Gwen's broom!" He made a face. "Thankfully she stopped attacking when she realized it was me fiddling with her door in the middle of the bloody night!"

Arthur laughed. "That was brilliant – but no, this doesn't involve pranking of any kind." Merlin raised an eyebrow, impressed. His newfound respect for Arthur's plan plummeted at Arthur's next words. "We, Merlin, are going to write… a fan-fiction!" He said it like he expected a round of applause and a great fanfare at the news, but all he received was a withering look from his servant and the paper in front of him suddenly reading in big, bold letters: ARE YOU CRAZY?

Arthur fumed at Merlin, who was barely containing a laugh, and said, "It's a great idea, Merlin! Now magic that disrespectful message away! We've got to start brainstorming!"

Merlin rolled his eyes but obeyed reluctantly, his eyes flashing gold once more as the note erased itself. "Why on earth do you want to write a fan-fiction, Arthur? It was bad enough when you got sucked into reading them last week – and now you're wanting to write one?"

Arthur grinned. "Of course! I'm a huge fan of myself, after all, and it shouldn't be hard at all! Writing fan-fiction is as simple as can be!"

Merlin couldn't believe his ears. "What do you mean, it's not hard? Have you ever tried to write a story? I bet you don't have the imaginational capacity! What makes you think it's so simple?"

Arthur smirked. "I've read many fan-fictions in the past few days, Merlin, and I've discovered the secret for writing the perfect fan-fic. All we have to do is combine all of these elements and we'll have the recipe for the greatest fan-fiction in the world!"

"Arthur, you do realize that this makes you even more of a narcissist, right? Only a puddle-gazer like you would attempt to write a fan-fiction about… themselves!"

Arthur chuckled. "Puddle-gazer! That'll be perfect for the witty banter! Thanks Merlin!"

Merlin blinked, surprised at Arthur's enthusiastic response and not believing his luck. He thought too soon, though, for Arthur tagged on, "Oh, and Merlin, when we're done with this story, you've got chamber pot duty – I want to see my face shine in it."

"Why would you want that?" Merlin asked, making a disgusted face. Then he grinned. "Oh wait, because you're so full of yourself that you want to see your face in everything!"

Arthur laughed. "This is gold, Merlin – the humor/friendly banter qualification will most certainly be filled!"

Merlin massaged his temples and finally gave in. "Fine. What is the formula for the perfect fan-fic, Arthur?"

Arthur grinned. "Thought you'd never ask." He cleared his throat importantly and Merlin just yawned. "First, the beginning – it's got to start out in the woods while we're hunting."

Merlin was confused. "Why?"

Arthur cocked his head. "I'm… not sure. But in nearly every fan-fiction I've come across, the situation we've been unceremoniously thrown into by the author is triggered by something that happens while I'm hunting. You're always complaining about how you don't like hunting – which is true – and then I'll make fun of you, you'll make something magically trip me for revenge—"

"Wait," Merlin interrupted, getting a baleful glare from his master but ignoring it, starting to get a little interested. "Do you know about my magic?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, of course not. That's going to be a pivotal point in the story, it always is. But that comes later, in 'The Reveal.' We're still on 'The Hunt.'"

Merlin scoffed and mocked impressively, "The Hunt."

Arthur ignored him, something he was getting better and better at doing. He shoved a piece of parchment in Merlin's direction and ordered him to jot down the ideas so they could scratch out a basic plot. Merlin grumbled but did as he was told. Reluctantly.

I. The Hunt – We kill fluffy animals. Arthur acts like a prat. I get my revenge. I WIN.

He vaguely wondered what Arthur would think of his interpretation of the plot.

"Okay," he began, resigned, "what's next?"

"'The Smirk,'" Arthur informed him impressively.

He and Merlin cast weary glances in each others' direction and intoned in perfect, monotone harmony: "Morgana."

Merlin wrote out the next bit.

II. The Smirk – Morgana tries to be sinister and fails. Epically. Also, Arthur is being a prat somewhere during all of this.

Merlin was quite satisfied with his work.

"Next?"

Arthur thought for a minute. "Well, nearly every story I've read has several rather graphic chapters where either I'm being tortured or you're being tortured."

Merlin paled. "People do that to us?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's actually quite fascinating! Last night, I was reading one where you got burned at the stake while I was helpless to save you! It was brilliant—" He caught a glimpse of the horrified expression on Merlin's face and quickly adlibbed/amended, "—ly out of line. Yes, sir, totally barbaric. Disgusting." Under his breath: "Epic."

Merlin groaned. "So let me guess – this is going to be a torture Merlin story?"

Arthur shook his head. "Nah – we're combining the best of both worlds here, Merlin."

Merlin was horrified. "You did not just reference a Hannah Montana song, Arthur!"

Arthur was flabbergasted before all the color fled from his face. "Ew. No! Of course not, no! It was a coincidence. That's all. Nothing more."

Merlin raised his eyebrow in an impressive impersonation of Gaius. "Mmm-hmm."

"Moving on," Arthur quickly jumped in, effectively cutting off any awkward questions that might possibly lead into more awkward answers, answers so awkward the author is just going to leave it there and to your respective imaginations. "I think we'll torture both of us – I'm thinking some sort of magical fire for me – but I'll be really strong and awesome and I won't die and I'll break us out of course—"

"Show off," Merlin muttered.

"What was that, Merlin?"

"Nothing – I said 'sock hop.'"

Arthur threw a parchment wad at him. "We live in the middle ages, Merlin, we don't even know what a sock hop is. Nice try."

Merlin grinned smugly. "And yet you know who Hannah Montana is and you're writing a fan-fic?"

Arthur nodded. "Point taken." He grew serious once more. "As for you, Merlin, I think there will be some use of heated daggers and magic fists of fury and torture spells that make you scream and writhe in overly-done agony…"

Merlin's eyes popped. "What? You're going to do that to me?"

Arthur nodded chipperly, not fazed in the slightest. "Yep. And I'll be forced to watch the whole time, and I'll feel so guilty about you being in the situation that I won't even feel my own torture – well, because of that, but mostly because I'm awesome. And then you'll almost die. Almost."

Merlin gaped. "I don't think I like this story very much," he ventured but Arthur told him to shut up and write this down.

III. The Whump – Arthur is a prat and gets the crap beat out of him. I'm not even going to write down what happens to me.

A thought struck him. "Hang on! Why can't I use my magic to get out of it?"

"I was getting to that," Arthur informed the irritated servant rather snobbishly. "Number five—"

"Four, we're on four."

"Shut up, Merlin. As I said, number four – 'The Restraint' – the bad guys always restrain you with magic – usually it's in the form of some kind of jewelry but other times it'll be potions or something equally as dramatic. You won't have your magic to protect you and I'll have to save you. Again."

IV. The Restraint – My life is not fair. And Arthur is eternally a prat. Forever. And all eternity. Infinity.

Now weary, Merlin asked, "Anything else?"

"Of course!" Arthur crowed, jumping out of his seat in his excitement. "There's 'The Reveal,' of course. The moment when I find out about your magic."

Merlin sighed. "Let me guess. We're such good friends that you automatically defy your father, hide me away somewhere and promise you'll never let the old sot get me…"

"No, actually, I find the most popular stories – and by far the most interesting and dynamic – are the ones where I struggle internally, sometimes going so far as arresting you or going to my father and telling him. But eventually I come to my senses – or lose them, depending on how you look at it – and save you in the nick of time." He paused. "Usually."

Merlin grumbled. "I'm guessing that story you were fawning over earlier was one of the exceptions?" Shaking his head, he wrote some more.

V. The Reveal – Arthur finds out the truth and is a prat. Once again, I get crapped on (figuratively, not literally – I hope.) Did I mention that Arthur is a prat here? Because he is. A big one. A big smelly one. A big smelly stupid one…

Merlin was feeling better already.

"Of course, we've already talked about 'The Banter,'" the creatively inspired prince announced.

VI. The Banter – Arthur is a prat, I am clever, and a battle of the wits ensues, a battle which, I must add, I will win. Always.

"And…?"

Arthur bit his lip, thinking. "Well… there is the last one." He suddenly looked quite awkward and Merlin wondered what his master was getting so ill at ease about.

"The… last one… sire?"

Arthur nodded choppily. "It's not like I actually want to add it in there," he hastily assured his bewildered servant. "But a lot of fan-girls will eat it up. I don't know why – they think that it's cute or sweet or something, when really it's the most appalling and disgusting thing that's ever been thought of…" He shuddered. "But it has to be done." He sounded like a warrior who was about to sacrifice himself in battle. Perhaps he would have preferred that fate right now. His face was certainly red enough.

Merlin didn't want to ask. He knew he shouldn't ask. He knew that if he asked he would regret it for as long as he lived. So he did what any sensible young warlock would do.

He asked.

Face even more red than his shirt, Arthur mumbled, "Merther."

Merlin felt physically ill. "Please tell me that stands for Merlin Eats Raspberries To Help Early Recycling! Or even Merlin and… and..." He couldn't think of another "ther" name off the top of his head.

Arthur grimaced. "Well… see, there's this thing I've noticed in several fan-fics. It'll be friendship the whole story, no mention of slash or any romantic feelings or anything, and then randomly, the last chapter of the story, BAM! We're a match made in heaven!" He blushed furiously.

Merlin smiled wanly, took the quill, jotted number seven down, calmly set the quill down, and walked in slow, measured steps out of the room. When he had gone, Arthur picked up the parchment and read what they'd come up with, not blaming Merlin in the slightest for his quick departure. It was a horrifying prospect but if he was going to write the most popular fan-fiction ever, he needed to appeal to the audience… no matter how unappealing the way to appeal to them was.

He sighed as he perused the list. Merlin's spin on things certainly was his own.

I. The Hunt – We kill fluffy animals. Arthur acts like a prat. I get my revenge. I WIN.

II. The Smirk – Morgana tries to be sinister and fails. Epically. Also, Arthur is being a prat somewhere during all of this.

III. The Whump – Arthur is a prat and gets the crap beat out of him. I'm not even going to write down what happens to me.

IV. The Restraint – My life is not fair. And Arthur is eternally a prat. Forever. And all eternity. Infinity.

VI. The Banter – Arthur is a prat, I am clever, and a battle of the wits ensues, a battle which, I must add, I will win. Always.

VII. No. Just. No.

Arthur let out a short laugh and proceeded to wad the paper up and toss it into the fire. Perhaps Merlin was right. Perhaps he should stick to being the model for other fan-fiction writers to write about. After all, being awesome so that other people could try to replicate and reproduce his sheer awesomeness was a full job within itself.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the castle, Merlin was scarred for life.

The End

A/N: Haha – hope you enjoyed it! Once again, I've used almost all of the themes in the story but the last one – and if you have don't be offended, it's all good fun! :) Thanks for reading and PLEASE review! :)

~Emachinescat ^..^