FIC: Unicorn Bait [Merlin/Arthur - NC-17]
Title:Unicorn Bait
Author/Artist: versaphile
Prompt: #8- Merlin and Arthur encounter a type of magic/curse that forces them to have sex or face death (fuck or die). If that's not enough, one of them ends up pregnant!
Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur (brief Merlin/Cernunnos)
Word Count: 11.7k
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): Mpreg, Romance, Angst, Humor, Sex Pollen/Fuck Or Die, Loss of Virginity, Possessive Behavior, Protective Arthur, Season 1, Season 3, *Somewhat dubious consent.*
Disclaimer:Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Sometimes Merlin's life feels like someone's idea of a hilarious joke. A run in with a fertility god and the wrong sort of berries does not improve his situation. But if he can bring himself to trust Arthur, maybe everything will work out after all.
When Merlin returned from the Isle of the Blessed, having proved himself to be a great warlock, having displayed his mastery over the power of life and death, he was not rewarded for his victory over Nimueh, or for his restoration of the lives of his mum, Arthur, and Gaius. Instead, his great destiny, the other side of his coin, the noble and intolerably arrogant Prince Arthur, spent a whole hour yelling at him for disappearing and lecturing him on the great depths of his incompetence, and then gave him a list of chores so long that it would be weeks before it was finished, and by that time he'd be so behind on his regular duties that he'd never catch up.
Merlin hadn't expected any praise. He knew that his magic had to remain a secret. But sometimes his life felt like some neglected god's idea of a hilarious joke. Still, there was no use in moping, so he got to work.
Being a smug, sadistic prat, Arthur made a point of hanging around in his free time to watch him slog away. He found a comfortable spot to recline and occupied himself with an apple or a book, as if he was casually making sure that Merlin didn't vanish on him on any mysterious errands ever again. Merlin found it oddly comforting, in a creepy and annoying sort of way. At least it meant that Arthur cared about him.
Since Merlin's entire life was now non-stop chores, Arthur went through quite a few books, which was how he ended up idly flipping through a bestiary he'd dug up from somewhere in Geoffrey's shelves. Merlin was carrying freshly filled buckets of water into the stables when Arthur gave him an unusually considering look.
"You're a virgin," Arthur said, quite loudly.
Merlin was so startled that he sloshed out half of the buckets, barely managing not to stop the water from spilling out from pure reflex, flushed with extreme embarrassment, and was torn between outright denial and demanding to know how the hell Arthur found out.
The nearby stable boys stared and snickered at him.
"No, I'm not," Merlin stammered, staring quite purposefully at the opposite wall.
"You are a terrible liar," Arthur said. "It says it right here in this book. Merlin is a virgin."
Merlin was certain that his blush had extended all the way to his ears. "I am not in your stupid book."
"This," Arthur said, holding up the book, "is not a stupid book. It is the accumulated knowledge of centuries of learned scholars."
"Well, I haven't been around for centuries, have I?" Merlin retorted, and poured what was left of the water into the trough.
"No, but unicorns have. And do you know what's interesting about unicorns, Merlin? They don't show themselves except in very specific circumstances."
"And those are?" Merlin asked, knowing he'd regret it.
Arthur had put aside the book, and was leaning forward, eyes twinkling with amusement and interest. "When a virgin enters their forest. That's how my ancestors hunted them. They brought some innocent, untouched, pure maiden into the woods, and waited. The unicorn would be drawn to her, and when it found her, it would nuzzle at her breast and seduce her."
Merlin tried to ignore the low, seductive tone that Arthur had slipped into. "So what are you saying?" he asked, with forced lightness. "When you shot the unicorn, you stopped it from having its wicked way with me?" He glanced sideways at Arthur, and swallowed. "That's ridiculous. It didn't do anything to me when it came back. What does your fancy book say about that?"
Arthur shrugged. "Easy. The second time, I was there to protect you. The maiden has to be alone."
"Fine," Merlin said, annoyed that his answer made sense. The unicorn had been awfully keen to stay with him that first time, no matter how much he tried to shoo it away. He imagined being somehow taken by the magical creature, and the sudden whinny of Arthur's horse made him start nervously.
Arthur laughed uproariously and slapped his thigh, delighted with the result of his discovery. "Only you, Merlin. You are truly a danger to yourself." He stood up and walked over to him, and goosed him on the arse. "Better let someone take care of you. Otherwise I'll have to keep a closer eye." And chuckling to himself, he swaggered away, leaving Merlin to feel foolish and embarrassed among the horses.
§
Almost two years later, Merlin still had not found someone to 'take care of him', as Arthur had so tactfully put it. Something had nearly happened with poor Freya, but that disastrous time had been a lesson of its own. His destiny was to serve Arthur and protect him, and any thoughts he once nurtured of settling down, any dreams of small, dark-haired children with magic of their own, well. There was no room for them in his life. And he would not risk giving accidental life to a child that would never know his father and think himself a monster. A mere day with Balinor and the inheritance of his Dragonlord powers was hardly a substitute for a lifetime without him.
Perhaps once Arthur was king, and magic was legal again. Perhaps then. But privately he thought that it was too late for him. There would never be anyone else, because he had somehow managed to fall in love with Arthur.
It was ridiculous. Hopeless. He suspected that it was only because his entire life was wrapped up in Arthur, day and night. They'd saved each other's lives so many times, fought side by side in battle. To be fair, Arthur had managed to become much less of a prat since they had first met, but that was hardly a ringing endorsement. And even after three years together, Arthur could only barely deign to acknowledge him as a friend, sometimes, possibly, if a prince was allowed to have friends.
At least there hadn't been any more unicorns. Arthur had made good on his promise to keep a closer eye on him, and presumably kept away any magical creatures who had wicked designs upon his person. But then, that was probably part of the reason he had fallen in love. Arthur had never quite forgiven him for leaving him all that time ago, and had become rather possessive of him as a result. Arthur was always touching him, wrestling him, pouring water on him, smearing him with gaia berries or other odd, sticky things. If some magical peril caused Merlin to be away from him for more than a few hours, Arthur would become foul tempered and throw things at him, and make a mess of his chambers just to make Merlin clean it up. Wherever Arthur went, Merlin followed, both out of his own desire to protect Arthur, and because if he didn't, Arthur would just grab him by the collar and yank him along after him.
Case in point, Merlin thought, as he struggled against the insistent pull of Arthur's hand on his jacket collar, dragging him away from the stream he had been washing his face in.
"Arthur!" Merlin protested, as he was dragged behind a copse of trees. Arthur shushed him and put his hand over his mouth, and covered Merlin's body with his own.
"Bandits," Arthur whispered, watching out of their hiding place as male voices filtered through the clearing. Arthur cursed softly. "You left your waterskin, you idiot."
Merlin glared at him. It wasn't his fault if Arthur couldn't ever just tell him things like a normal person, and give him two seconds to bring his possessions with him. No, instead Arthur had to drag him about and shove him against things. Merlin would have to yell at him later, and then sneak off somewhere for a wank, because it was taking everything he had not to become aroused by the heavy press of Arthur's body against his own. The fear of being caught by the bandits and messily killed was very helpful in that regard.
"Maybe they won't--" Arthur whispered, then cursed under his breath. Merlin couldn't turn his head to see, but he presumed that the bandits had found the waterskin. And from Arthur's increasing tension, they were now looking around for its owner.
Arthur removed his hand from Merlin's mouth and quietly pulled out his sword. "They're coming this way. When I tell you, run into the forest, deep as you can. I'll keep them busy."
"I'm not going to leave you," Merlin hissed.
Arthur gave him a look that brooked no argument. "I'll find you." He shifted again, readying himself to fight. "Now go!"
The bandits were upon them. Arthur had their only weapon, but Merlin improvised with a branch and some quietly spoken magic. He spared a glimpse for Arthur, fierce and beautiful as he fought, sword singing through the air as he swung it and sliced open another bandit. His sword was already red with blood, but they were severely outnumbered. It would almost be easier if Arthur fell, and then Merlin could wipe the lot of them out with a whirlwind. As it was, he had to pick them off one by one, as subtly as he could. It would already be suspicious enough that he could take down as many as he had.
And then Arthur did fall, and Merlin's heart lodged in his throat. It was only a stumble, caused by a lucky stroke to his leg, but Arthur was surrounded and in real danger. Merlin couldn't let him be hurt again. He raised his hand and--
Pain, and the ground rushed up to meet him. Another blow, and--
He woke up to a throbbing headache, and found himself sprawled face down by the stream. Had he been by the stream when he fell? Arthur, he thought, and opened his eyes wide in alarm. He immediately regretted it.
"My head," he groaned, and clutched at it. It felt intact from the outside, but surely it had been cracked open to hurt so much. There was some dried blood in his hair but nothing fresh. He splashed water on his face to help clear his mind, and sat up and looked around.
He was alone. There were signs of the fight, blood on the ground, but no bodies and no Arthur. Merlin wasn't sure if any of that was a good sign. The only reason the dead bandits would be gone was if the surviving bandits took them away to bury them. They'd left him for dead, but taken Arthur, which hopefully meant that he was still alive.
No, he had to be alive. Merlin would know if Arthur was dead. He would know it.
He had to find him. He stood up, wobbly on his feet, and tried to think, but his head was killing him. He needed water, and when he turned back to the stream he laughed harshly. His waterskin was still there, his stupid waterskin. He grabbed it angrily and filled it up, then drank deeply. He filled it again and looked around the clearing, trying to find some sign of where the bandits had taken Arthur.
He really should have paid more attention to Arthur's interminable lectures on tracking. There were footprints everywhere, and in the end he decided to go in the direction the bandits had arrived from. If they had taken their fellows to bury them, it would make sense that they would head back the way they had come. Besides, he had to find Arthur soon, or he'd end up having another goblet thrown at him, and his head was sore enough already.
He walked into the forest, full of determination.
§
Hours later, Merlin was fairly sure that he was lost.
Not that he knew where he was going in the first place, but he hadn't seen any freshly-broken twigs or disturbed ground for quite a while now. That was at least partly because it was getting too dark to see anything at all; he had tripped over enough roots and fallen logs in the past hour to determine that much.
"Just had to be a new moon," Merlin muttered, glaring at what little of the sky he could see through the heavy forest canopy. He finally gave in and summoned a ball of light, figuring that if he was properly lost then there wouldn't be anyone around to see his magic and start yelling about sorcery.
The glow of his magic bathed the forest in spectral light, casting strange shadows against the trees. They moved as he walked, making him see things out of the corners of his eyes. He never much cared for being alone in forests at night. They were all right with company and a blazing fire, but when he was on his own his imagination tended to get the better of him.
The further he walked, the more the forest seemed to close in on him. There was something different about this place, something old and alive. Maybe it was just his imagination, working hard to distract him from worrying about Arthur. Maybe.
"Don't be such a girl, Merlin," he said to himself, imitating Arthur's comfortingly dismissive tone. "They're just trees, they're not going to attack you."
That made him feel better. He was getting tired, though, and had to find some place to rest. A few hours of sleep and he would be fresh to keep going. Maybe it would finally stop his head from throbbing.
He stumbled onto another stream, and having exhausted his waterskin ages ago, he knelt down and drank deeply. The water was delicious, fresh and clean and cool as if right from mountain snow. He washed his face and hair, cleaning away the dry blood, and saw that there was a perfect spot to rest, mossy and soft. And there, a whole feast of berries, plump and ripe, and he realized how hungry he was. He scarfed them down, stuffing himself until he was sated, his hands scratched from the small thorns and his face sticky. He washed again, and drank, and curled up on the mossy bank to sleep. Just a few hours, he told himself, eyes already closing. Arthur would be waiting for him. Arthur would be...
Arthur...
§
He slept. He dreamed.
Arthur frequently filled his nights as they did his days. It was hardly strange, when every waking hour was spent either in his company or in his service, and when he was away from Arthur it was generally only because Merlin was doing everything he could to save his life. There were an endless number of memories to draw from: the grace of his movements as he trained, the fierceness of him as he fought, the lazy arrogance of him when he leaned his head back in the sun. The feel of his body under Merlin's hands as he washed him, his skin surprisingly soft over hard muscle, his hands and feet calloused from hours of walking and fighting. The wry smirk of his lips; the soft blue of his eyes, knowing and watchful. The way he sometimes leaned in and said Merlin's name, low and intimate like a lover, just to make him blush.
It was a new memory that Merlin dreamed of that night, of Arthur shoving him against the tree and pressing hard and hot against him. In his dream, there were no bandits, no dangers. Arthur's hand covered his mouth, but only to hush him, to still him as Arthur leaned in and tasted his neck, his collarbone. Merlin surrendered to him, and Arthur smirked, sliding a hand under his shirt, along his belly.
"Such a good servant," Arthur murmured, nuzzling him. "If I let you go, will you walk on your knees for me?"
Merlin groaned against Arthur's gloved hand and nodded, the bark of the tree rough against his head. Arthur released him and he sank down, falling to his knees before him. Arthur's armor was gone, and without it Merlin could see the bulge of his arousal straining in his trousers. His mouth watered, and his own cock twitched and ached with fullness.
Arthur looked down at him, imperious and commanding but also gentle, tender. He pulled off his shirt in one long movement, and then opened his trousers and pulled himself out. His cock was long and beautiful, just as Merlin had seen it so many times, when bathing Arthur or watching him wash in a stream or walk from a lake, water streaming down his sun-blessed skin, darkening and flattening his hair. There was a thatch of blond curls at his groin, and Merlin leaned in and breathed in the heady scent of it, the rich musk of Arthur's arousal and sweat.
"Arthur," Merlin moaned, desperate for him, aching for him. Arthur's hand rested in his hair, granting permission, and Merlin latched onto his cock to worship it with his mouth and his hands. It was hot against his lips, smooth as the silk of a lady's dress, and hard as the steel of a sword. It tasted clean, like the water from a mountain stream, and when he came, his seed was sweet as berries.
Merlin opened his eyes, not certain if he was awake. He was painfully aroused, and he felt drugged and feverish. The air was thick and fragrant, and everything around him felt impossibly alive, sharp and bright even in the filtered starlight. He shoved his hand into his trousers and groaned aloud as he gripped himself. His clothes felt too tight, too warm, and he shoved them off with clumsy hands. He rutted his cock against the soft moss, then gripped himself again until he came.
It didn't help. His arousal didn't lessen, and if anything grew stronger. He turned onto his back, whimpering and writhing, a heat flaring inside him. He tumbled into the stream, desperate to be soothed. The cold water cut through the haze, and he stumbled out again on shaky legs. And froze.
He wasn't alone. There was a man-- no, not a man. Something in the shape of a man, with the wide horns of a stag and a silver torque around its neck. He had been right about this forest. It was more than old, it was ancient, protected. No bandit would come here, but somehow he had been welcomed. Or trapped.
"What do you want with me?" Merlin asked, fighting the tremble in his voice.
"Emrys," said the creature, and it stepped forward. The starlight seemed to collect upon it, to make its bare skin glow in the darkness. "Do not be afraid. No harm will come to you in this place."
"Who are you?" Merlin asked, struggling to keep his head clear. "What have you done to me?"
"I am Cernunnos, and I have done nothing to you. But you have done something to me." Cernunnos stepped closer, and Merlin gasped at the sight of his erection, thick and high against his belly. The stag-god of the Old Religion, of wildness and fertility. He remembered making flower wreaths with his mum from the first blossoms of spring and leaving them at the edge of the forest, seeking blessings for the year's harvests.
"Your magic is powerful, Emrys, and burns like a fire in the night. You walked into my kingdom and drank from my streams, ate of my fruits. Your need called to me, and I have answered it." Cernunnos grinned. "Already you have given back to me, spilling your seed upon my earth."
"No," Merlin said, shaking his head and stumbling backwards. "No, I don't want this."
"No?" Cernunnos said, amused. "You are pure and untouched. You have lived among the humans, but not joined with them. Perhaps you are not meant for them." He stepped closer still, and he was beautiful and terrible, dark hair framing his face, dusting his body. His skin was marked with sigils and symbols, strength in every line. Here was the locus of the forest's power, life and magic pouring out of him, intoxicating and heady. It fed the heat in Merlin's belly, made him throb and burn. Merlin sank to his knees, nearly delirious.
"You are ripe, Emrys," Cernunnos said, standing above him, eyes golden and so very old. "You must be taken." He reached down and touched Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin cried out and slumped into his arms, overcome by his power. Wild lust shimmered in him like a summer heat, pervading him and making a haze of his thoughts. He snapped his hips, desperate to rut, to be mounted like a doe in heat. Cernunnos touched down his back, his arse, making him keen and whine, making his whole body flush and his cock swell impossibly full. A finger pressed into him, and found him slick and swollen inside.
"So ripe," Cernunnos admired. "Perhaps it is your destiny to be reclaimed from mankind. For you to give yourself to me. To let me--" He stopped, his eyes suddenly sharp, and he turned his head, quick as deer sensing danger. "Ah, your little king has come for you," he said, smirking and not at all afraid. "But will he take you from me?"
"Get away from him," Arthur growled.
Merlin tore himself from Cernunnos' hold and fell to the ground. He managed to crawl a few feet away, and the distance from the stag-god granted him some fraction of relief. He turned to see Arthur standing with his sword drawn, his armor gleaming in the starlight. He was scuffed and somewhat the worse for wear, but he was alive and whole.
"Arthur," Merlin said, shaking with relief and need. Arthur was all right, Arthur was safe. Arthur had come for him.
Arthur approached warily, uncertain of his attack. He threatened Cernunnos with his sword, and the stag-god backed away, allowing Arthur to stand between himself and Merlin. Arthur glared at Cernunnos and called to Merlin. "Merlin, are you all right? Are you hurt? Say something."
"I'm..." Merlin tried, but another wave of lust swamped him, and he slumped, whimpering. "Arthur," he moaned, reaching for him. "Arthur, please."
"What have you done to him?" Arthur yelled, furious. "I order you to remove your enchantments. Do it, or I will cut you down!"
"You have no authority here, little king," Cernunnos said. "And Emrys has done this to himself. He walked unclaimed into my forest and ate greedily of my fruit. His magic has mingled with my own. It is only his love for you, little king, that stops me, and not your sword. Take him, or I will finish what I have started."
Arthur stared at Merlin, then Cernunnos, and then back to Merlin again, as if unable to accept what he had been told. Betrayal rose on his face like a terrible sunrise.
"Is this true?" Arthur asked, pained. "You have magic?"
Merlin closed his eyes, not wanting to see Arthur's disgust, his hatred. "Yes," he said, his throat tightening with fear. He never dreamed that this was how Arthur would find out about him, that this would be the baring of his soul. Maybe Cernunnos was right. Maybe it would be for the best if he let himself be taken by the Old Religion, and spare Arthur the pain of his execution. He opened his eyes and looked to the stag-god.
"Then you have made your choice," Cernunnos said, stepping forward, expecting Arthur to stand aside. But Arthur didn't budge.
"Don't. Touch him," Arthur said, jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. "Merlin, get up. I'm taking you out of here."
"Emrys is ripe," Cernunnos said, watching them with interest. "He cannot leave my forest until he has been claimed, by god or by man. If you have no interest in him..."
"Shut up," Arthur growled. "Merlin! Now!"
Merlin tried to stand, he really did. But the fever was too much for him, and he hurt, he burned. He curled around himself on the ground and shivered.
"What's wrong with him?" Arthur demanded.
"I have told you," Cernunnos said, growing annoyed. "He must be claimed, and soon, unless you wish to see him suffer. He believes that you will kill him. I do not see why I should allow either to happen."
"I'm not going to--" Arthur rounded on Merlin. "I'm not going to kill you. Of course I'm not going to kill you! How can you even think that!"
"I have magic," Merlin slurred, the words cracking him open as he spoke them. "I've always... I was born with it. I'm sorry." He felt tears on his face, streaming out of him, and wondered why they didn't sizzle like water on a hot pan. "For you, Arthur. Everything for you."
Arthur stared at him for so long that Merlin could only believe the worst. That the twin revelations of Merlin's magic and his love were simply too much. Merlin swallowed, his heart breaking a little more with every passing second. Of course it would end this way. Of course.
"I thought you were dead," Arthur said, voice tight with emotion. "They showed me your body and they laughed. I broke free and killed them, every last one of them, and I came back for you. For your... but you were gone. You were... Why didn't you wait for me?"
"Had to save you," Merlin slurred.
Arthur gave a desperate laugh. "I leave you alone for a second..." He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again, do you hear me? When we get back to Camelot..."
Merlin's hope struggled back to life. "Arthur?"
"What do I have to do?" Arthur asked, rounding on Cernunnos. "To claim him?"
"Surely you do not need me to explain it," Cernunnos smirked.
"Right," Arthur said, taking a deep breath. "Are you just going to stand there and watch the whole time?"
"This is my forest," Cernunnos said. "There is nothing here that is hidden from me. But if Emrys wishes, I will remove my presence."
"Please," Merlin rasped. He would have blushed if he was capable of it.
Cernunnos nodded in acceptance. "Do not think to fool me, little king. Fail him, and I will come for him." And in a blink, he disappeared.
Arthur slumped in relief, setting down his sword and hurrying to Merlin's side. He pulled off his gloves and touched Merlin's cheek. "You're burning up," he fretted. "I have to get you back to Gaius, not..."
"Arthur," Merlin slurred, gripping Arthur's wrist. "I'm sorry. I can't... I won't make you do this. You should go. I'll be all right here."
"No," Arthur said, his eyes reddening. "I'm not going to leave you here and let some monster rape you."
"He's not... a monster," Merlin said, as gently as he could. "He's a god. I used to... pray to him. In the spring." He moaned as the fire swept through him again, stripping away another piece of what was left of his self-control.
"That doesn't make it any better," Arthur said. He cursed and started undoing his sword belt. "I'm not letting some... some oversexed god take you away from me."
Merlin mustered a smile. "Arthur..."
"No," Arthur said, firmly. "I'm doing this, so stop trying to talk me out of it." He started removing his plating. "Anyone else would be flattered, but not you, Merlin, oh no. A fate worse than death, for you, to have the favor of a handsome prince."
"It's not," Merlin protested, and it was hard to look at Arthur, to see what he had longed for, so he turned his face against his arm. "Don't know why I... fell in love with you." Surely his cheeks must be burning beneath his fever.
"Maybe there was just something about me," Arthur said, and pulled off his mail. "Like there was always something about you."
"Don't," Merlin rasped, ashamed. "Don't pretend. It's bad enough..."
Arthur pulled off his surcoat and folded it up, then tucked it under Merlin's head. "Who said anything about pretending?"
Merlin looked up at him, through the haze in his head, and saw the raw emotion in Arthur's eyes. Fear and sorrow and relief and determination, and through it all there was love, enough love to take anyone's breath away. For Merlin, it was simply too much to bear. He began to cry again, this time in great blubbering sobs.
Arthur gathered him into his arms and hushed him. Merlin pressed his face against Arthur's shirt and made a mess of it, and thought that maybe, maybe he would be able to go home after this. Maybe everything would be all right, and he would do Arthur's laundry and wash away the mess he had made.
Once Merlin had calmed again, Arthur let him back down and used his sleeve to dry Merlin's eyes and wipe the snot from his nose. He pulled off his shirt and set it aside, then stood to remove what was left. And then he was naked, as beautiful as ever, even with the dried blood on his leg and his arms, the bruises on his wrists..
"You're hurt," Merlin sniffed, reaching for him.
"I'll be all right," Arthur said, laying down beside him. "It's you I'm worried about. Does it hurt?"
It did, but the moment Merlin was in Arthur's arms, the pain began to go away. "Not anymore."
"Good," Arthur said, and took a deep breath, let it out. "Good. We're doing this. Everything else... it will wait."
Everything else, like Merlin being a sorcerer, and a servant, and a man, and everything inappropriate for a prince to love. They would probably only ever have this one night, Merlin realized. And if it didn't ruin everything, it might even be worth it, just to have the memory. Just to know Arthur, and be known by him, and no longer be untouched. At least the unicorns would leave him alone after this.
Arthur kissed him, soft and tentative. It took a moment for Merlin to respond, as he barely believed that it was happening at all. But this was Arthur against him, this body that he knew almost better than his own. These hands that he had tended, these lips that he had longed for. This was Arthur.
Something was suddenly triggered inside of Merlin, and his lust surged anew, stronger than ever. He wrapped one leg around Arthur and thrust desperately against him, pawed at him and scratched at his back with blunted nails. He needed Arthur inside him, needed it more than air, more than anything else.
"Gods," Arthur breathed, struggling to hold him. "Merlin."
"Fuck me," Merlin begged, pleaded, demanded. "Fuck me, Arthur. I need you inside me. Filling me up. You have to, have to, Arthur, Arthur please..."
"Shh, I'm here," Arthur soothed, reaching down between Merlin's legs. He sank his finger inside and hissed. "You're burning up inside. And you're wet, like a woman."
"Magic," Merlin said, dazedly. He groaned and clenched around Arthur's finger. "'s not enough. Please, please."
"All right, shh. Let me..." Arthur had to pry himself free from Merlin's deathly grip, and then hooked Merlin's legs over his shoulders. He brought the tip of his cock to Merlin's entrance and paused for a long moment, for the last chance before it was too late to change his mind, and then he thrust and sank inside.
Merlin cried out, and the wild magic in him surged in triumph. This was what it wanted, and it would only be sated once Arthur's seed had been spilled. It was ancient magic, as old as the world itself, and far stronger than his own. He was helpless in its thrall, and rode Arthur desperately, urging him on and in, incoherent with need. Arthur cursed and struggled but he too was taken by it, and then they were not themselves but two bodies intimately joined, their shared lust making a union of them.
They came together, Arthur pouring himself deep, Merlin's body throbbing and clenching around him, the come pulsing through his cock like fire. As they sank back down, shuddering and panting, the air trembled with the bellow of a great stag.
The fever broke, and Merlin began to pass out. The last thing he heard was Cernunnos' voice, disembodied yet from everywhere at once, loud yet soft as a whisper.
"Guard him well, little king. For all his power, he will need your protection most."
§
When Merlin opened his eyes, he was lying beside the stream -- not the one in Cernunnos' forest, but where the bandits had attacked them. For a moment, he thought the entire mad affair had been nothing but a dream, the product of a blow to the head and his own overactive imagination. He was clothed and he felt no fever. But when he sat up, it was not his head that felt sore.
Arthur was sitting beside him, staring at the trees and frowning.
"Arthur?" Merlin said, his voice scratchy and rough.
"Nothing must come of this," Arthur said. "We will pretend that last night never happened."
"Oh."
"Don't argue with me, Merlin," Arthur said, angrily.
"I'm not," Merlin insisted. "I understand. I..." He swallowed. "Thank you for your leniency."
"It is treason," Arthur said, sharply. "If you are found out, I cannot save you. You may leave now, if you wish."
"No!" Merlin said, hurriedly. "No, I have to stay. To protect you."
Arthur turned and looked at him at last. Whatever emotions Merlin had seen in him last night, they were gone now, locked tightly away. "Very well," Arthur said, standing up. "But don't do anything stupid." Then, as if realizing the pointlessness of such an order, he shook his head. "Don't..." he tried again. "Just don't."
Merlin nodded.
"Let's go home," Arthur said, softer this time, and he offered his hand and a sad smile. It wasn't much, but Merlin knew it would have to be enough. At least he hadn't lost Arthur entirely. Whatever scraps he was allowed, they would be enough. They always had been.
§
It would be an understatement to say that things were awkward between them when they returned to Camelot. For the first few weeks, Arthur found every excuse not to be around Merlin, and Merlin found every excuse not to be around Arthur. Their lives intersected solely when necessary. Gaius was concerned, Gwen was worried, but there was nothing any of them could do about it. What was done was done. Merlin was almost glad when Uther declared that it was time for Arthur to go on a quest, alone and unaided.
Merlin would have been relieved to not have to spend his days avoiding Arthur, but then he saw the strange bracelet Morgana gave Arthur, and 'alone and unaided' ended up meaning 'with Merlin and also Gwaine'. It was wonderful to see Gwaine again and pretend that everything was normal. And something about Gwaine's easygoing presence finally did break some of the tension between himself and Arthur, so by the time they returned to the castle, they could at least go back to being prince and servant, if not prince and sort-of-friend-if-princes-had-friends.
It was around then that Merlin started to feel a bit off. He was never much of a morning person, but he found it harder than usual to drag himself out of bed, and then on top of that he could barely stand the sight of breakfast. But in the evening, he would crave the oddest things, and Gaius would often find him eating a plate of pickled eggs, salted herring, and raw onions dipped in honey. Gaius merely raised his eyebrows at him and left out little bottles filled with mint leaves and some sort of cool-tasting elixir, which Gaius claimed would prevent the castle populace from fleeing in terror of his breath.
Merlin was quite surprised when Alice visited, but he couldn't begrudge Gaius the chance to rekindle a romance, not when his own hopes had been so thoroughly snuffed. It was Alice who figured it out first, when she joked that if she didn't know better, she would say that Merlin was showing all the symptoms of pregnancy. Merlin dropped his plate in horrified realization, and the pickled eggs rolled out of sight.
Gaius wasn't in the room, thankfully, but later on he found Merlin sitting on his own and staring blankly at the little wooden dragon that Balinor had given him.
"Merlin?" Gaius said, cautiously. "Is something wrong? Alice said you took ill."
"Gaius," Merlin said, voice choked with emotion. "I need to tell you something. Please don't be mad."
"What have you done this time?" Gaius asked, with weary resignation. He sat down beside him on the bed.
Merlin swallowed, and explained about what had happened those months ago. About Cernunnos and the berries and the magic and the strange cravings. "And I think... I think..."
"I see," Gaius said, understanding at once.
"What am I going to do?" Merlin asked, tearfully.
"You're going to stop panicking and tell Arthur," Gaius said. "And I wish you had told me sooner. Especially about Arthur knowing about your magic!"
"I can't," Merlin said, urgently. "I can't tell him. It was all my fault, and he just wants to forget it ever happened."
"He's going to find out eventually," Gaius pointed out.
"But not yet," Merlin insisted. "He doesn't have to know. I'm not even showing yet." He tried to smile, but it came out all wrong.
"Oh dear," Gaius said, and pulled him into a hug. Merlin sniffed and dried his eyes on Gaius' woolen robe. "I think the first thing we should do is write to your mother."
"Oh gods, mum." Merlin wasn't sure what her reaction would be: happiness at having a grandchild, or horror that her son, her very male son, was pregnant.
§
Things got a little better after that. Merlin's morning sickness faded away, and his mum wrote back sounding stunned but overjoyed. The loose shirts he habitually wore gave him the perfect disguise. And as he had never been able to gain much weight, even though his growing bump stood out starkly against his slim body when he was naked, no changes were apparent in his face or anywhere else.
He even managed to reconnect with Arthur. Morgana finally struck at Camelot's heart and claimed the throne for herself, and he and Arthur ended up stuck in a cave together. When Arthur's sulking became unbearable, Merlin talked him out of it by reminding him that no matter what, Arthur had a duty to Camelot, to the people. And once it was over and Morgana and Morgause were defeated, everything at last went back to normal between them.
Except it didn't. It couldn't. Not when the bump under Merlin's shirt grew bigger by the day, not when he spent most nights lying awake in bed, feeling the baby move against his hand and worrying about the future. He wasn't going to be able to hide his condition much longer.
At least Uther was gone. He hadn't died, but he had retreated into a strange sort of madness, and was rarely seen outside of his chambers anymore. Arthur became Prince Regent, and Merlin had never been more proud of him.
But it was all coming to an end.
He was going to have to leave. What choice did he have? Camelot was no place for any child of his. He might have worked up the courage to tell Arthur, but not when he was so distracted by his father's ill health and the weight of his responsibilities. Arthur was always busy now, and barely had the time to exchange a few words with him. It was just as well. Perhaps it would be easier this way, to just slip out of Arthur's life unnoticed. To not have to answer any questions, or tell him the truth about their son.
They were going to have a son. He knew it was a boy, he just knew.
He was crying in his room one night when the door suddenly opened, and before Merlin could cover himself with a pillow Gwen saw his bump and gaped at him. There was a long, painful silence as Gwen stared in shock and Merlin wiped at his eyes and had absolutely no idea what to say.
"How--" Gwen said, and then took a halting step forward, then another. She sat down on the bed and reached out a tentative hand, and Merlin nodded, allowing it. She rested her hand on the bump and the baby kicked and Gwen broke into a brilliant smile.
"I suppose this is why you've been avoiding everyone," she said, amazed. "How is this even possible?"
"Magic," Merlin admitted, and swallowed hard. Gwen wouldn't betray him, and he would be leaving soon anyway. "It was an accident."
"Do you know who the father is?" Gwen shook her head. "I mean, of course you know who the father is. Or is it the mother? Merlin, you're pregnant!"
"I had noticed, thanks," Merlin said. "And yes, but I'm not going to tell him."
"What do you mean, you're--" Her eyes widened. "Is it Gwaine? Tell me it's not Gwaine."
Merlin smiled. "It's not Gwaine."
"I know for a fact that it wasn't Lancelot," she said, with a slight blush, "but you barely spend time with anyone else, and there's no way it's Gaius--"
Merlin shuddered. "No."
"--and the only other man you're with is--" Her eyes widened even more. "No. No. Tell me it's not Arthur."
Merlin gave an embarrassed shrug.
Gwen squeaked. "You have to tell him! Merlin, you're pregnant!" She covered her mouth with her hands, unable to contain herself.
"I can't. And you have to promise me you won't tell him. Promise me, Gwen, please!"
Gwen calmed down. "Of course, I won't. But... he's going to figure it out soon enough. The moment he drags himself out of council and actually looks at you--"
"And that's exactly why I'm leaving," Merlin said, rather bravely. "I'm going home to Ealdor."
"When?"
"I don't know. Soon. And I need you to promise me something else. I need you to take care of him for me, while I'm gone."
"Oh, Merlin," Gwen sighed.
"Please, Gwen," Merlin said, his throat tightening up again. "He doesn't like being alone, even if he says he does. It's always upset him if I leave without telling him. I need you to be there for him. To make sure he's all right."
"When will you be back?"
"I don't know," Merlin said, the truth sticking in his chest. "More than a day, and that's usually enough to make him fling his goblet at me."
Gwen hugged him. "I'll miss you. We all will."
"I'll miss you, too," Merlin said.
As soon as Gwen left, Merlin took the packed bags from under his bed. He hadn't intended to leave tonight, but having been discovered once, he knew that he could put it off no longer. He walked out into the courtyard and looked up one last time at Arthur's window, and then snuck out to the stables and saddled his mare.
He rode away from Camelot and did not look back.
§
CONTINUED IN PART 2
Author/Artist: versaphile
Prompt: #8- Merlin and Arthur encounter a type of magic/curse that forces them to have sex or face death (fuck or die). If that's not enough, one of them ends up pregnant!
Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur (brief Merlin/Cernunnos)
Word Count: 11.7k
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): Mpreg, Romance, Angst, Humor, Sex Pollen/Fuck Or Die, Loss of Virginity, Possessive Behavior, Protective Arthur, Season 1, Season 3, *Somewhat dubious consent.*
Disclaimer:Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Sometimes Merlin's life feels like someone's idea of a hilarious joke. A run in with a fertility god and the wrong sort of berries does not improve his situation. But if he can bring himself to trust Arthur, maybe everything will work out after all.
When Merlin returned from the Isle of the Blessed, having proved himself to be a great warlock, having displayed his mastery over the power of life and death, he was not rewarded for his victory over Nimueh, or for his restoration of the lives of his mum, Arthur, and Gaius. Instead, his great destiny, the other side of his coin, the noble and intolerably arrogant Prince Arthur, spent a whole hour yelling at him for disappearing and lecturing him on the great depths of his incompetence, and then gave him a list of chores so long that it would be weeks before it was finished, and by that time he'd be so behind on his regular duties that he'd never catch up.
Merlin hadn't expected any praise. He knew that his magic had to remain a secret. But sometimes his life felt like some neglected god's idea of a hilarious joke. Still, there was no use in moping, so he got to work.
Being a smug, sadistic prat, Arthur made a point of hanging around in his free time to watch him slog away. He found a comfortable spot to recline and occupied himself with an apple or a book, as if he was casually making sure that Merlin didn't vanish on him on any mysterious errands ever again. Merlin found it oddly comforting, in a creepy and annoying sort of way. At least it meant that Arthur cared about him.
Since Merlin's entire life was now non-stop chores, Arthur went through quite a few books, which was how he ended up idly flipping through a bestiary he'd dug up from somewhere in Geoffrey's shelves. Merlin was carrying freshly filled buckets of water into the stables when Arthur gave him an unusually considering look.
"You're a virgin," Arthur said, quite loudly.
Merlin was so startled that he sloshed out half of the buckets, barely managing not to stop the water from spilling out from pure reflex, flushed with extreme embarrassment, and was torn between outright denial and demanding to know how the hell Arthur found out.
The nearby stable boys stared and snickered at him.
"No, I'm not," Merlin stammered, staring quite purposefully at the opposite wall.
"You are a terrible liar," Arthur said. "It says it right here in this book. Merlin is a virgin."
Merlin was certain that his blush had extended all the way to his ears. "I am not in your stupid book."
"This," Arthur said, holding up the book, "is not a stupid book. It is the accumulated knowledge of centuries of learned scholars."
"Well, I haven't been around for centuries, have I?" Merlin retorted, and poured what was left of the water into the trough.
"No, but unicorns have. And do you know what's interesting about unicorns, Merlin? They don't show themselves except in very specific circumstances."
"And those are?" Merlin asked, knowing he'd regret it.
Arthur had put aside the book, and was leaning forward, eyes twinkling with amusement and interest. "When a virgin enters their forest. That's how my ancestors hunted them. They brought some innocent, untouched, pure maiden into the woods, and waited. The unicorn would be drawn to her, and when it found her, it would nuzzle at her breast and seduce her."
Merlin tried to ignore the low, seductive tone that Arthur had slipped into. "So what are you saying?" he asked, with forced lightness. "When you shot the unicorn, you stopped it from having its wicked way with me?" He glanced sideways at Arthur, and swallowed. "That's ridiculous. It didn't do anything to me when it came back. What does your fancy book say about that?"
Arthur shrugged. "Easy. The second time, I was there to protect you. The maiden has to be alone."
"Fine," Merlin said, annoyed that his answer made sense. The unicorn had been awfully keen to stay with him that first time, no matter how much he tried to shoo it away. He imagined being somehow taken by the magical creature, and the sudden whinny of Arthur's horse made him start nervously.
Arthur laughed uproariously and slapped his thigh, delighted with the result of his discovery. "Only you, Merlin. You are truly a danger to yourself." He stood up and walked over to him, and goosed him on the arse. "Better let someone take care of you. Otherwise I'll have to keep a closer eye." And chuckling to himself, he swaggered away, leaving Merlin to feel foolish and embarrassed among the horses.
§
Almost two years later, Merlin still had not found someone to 'take care of him', as Arthur had so tactfully put it. Something had nearly happened with poor Freya, but that disastrous time had been a lesson of its own. His destiny was to serve Arthur and protect him, and any thoughts he once nurtured of settling down, any dreams of small, dark-haired children with magic of their own, well. There was no room for them in his life. And he would not risk giving accidental life to a child that would never know his father and think himself a monster. A mere day with Balinor and the inheritance of his Dragonlord powers was hardly a substitute for a lifetime without him.
Perhaps once Arthur was king, and magic was legal again. Perhaps then. But privately he thought that it was too late for him. There would never be anyone else, because he had somehow managed to fall in love with Arthur.
It was ridiculous. Hopeless. He suspected that it was only because his entire life was wrapped up in Arthur, day and night. They'd saved each other's lives so many times, fought side by side in battle. To be fair, Arthur had managed to become much less of a prat since they had first met, but that was hardly a ringing endorsement. And even after three years together, Arthur could only barely deign to acknowledge him as a friend, sometimes, possibly, if a prince was allowed to have friends.
At least there hadn't been any more unicorns. Arthur had made good on his promise to keep a closer eye on him, and presumably kept away any magical creatures who had wicked designs upon his person. But then, that was probably part of the reason he had fallen in love. Arthur had never quite forgiven him for leaving him all that time ago, and had become rather possessive of him as a result. Arthur was always touching him, wrestling him, pouring water on him, smearing him with gaia berries or other odd, sticky things. If some magical peril caused Merlin to be away from him for more than a few hours, Arthur would become foul tempered and throw things at him, and make a mess of his chambers just to make Merlin clean it up. Wherever Arthur went, Merlin followed, both out of his own desire to protect Arthur, and because if he didn't, Arthur would just grab him by the collar and yank him along after him.
Case in point, Merlin thought, as he struggled against the insistent pull of Arthur's hand on his jacket collar, dragging him away from the stream he had been washing his face in.
"Arthur!" Merlin protested, as he was dragged behind a copse of trees. Arthur shushed him and put his hand over his mouth, and covered Merlin's body with his own.
"Bandits," Arthur whispered, watching out of their hiding place as male voices filtered through the clearing. Arthur cursed softly. "You left your waterskin, you idiot."
Merlin glared at him. It wasn't his fault if Arthur couldn't ever just tell him things like a normal person, and give him two seconds to bring his possessions with him. No, instead Arthur had to drag him about and shove him against things. Merlin would have to yell at him later, and then sneak off somewhere for a wank, because it was taking everything he had not to become aroused by the heavy press of Arthur's body against his own. The fear of being caught by the bandits and messily killed was very helpful in that regard.
"Maybe they won't--" Arthur whispered, then cursed under his breath. Merlin couldn't turn his head to see, but he presumed that the bandits had found the waterskin. And from Arthur's increasing tension, they were now looking around for its owner.
Arthur removed his hand from Merlin's mouth and quietly pulled out his sword. "They're coming this way. When I tell you, run into the forest, deep as you can. I'll keep them busy."
"I'm not going to leave you," Merlin hissed.
Arthur gave him a look that brooked no argument. "I'll find you." He shifted again, readying himself to fight. "Now go!"
The bandits were upon them. Arthur had their only weapon, but Merlin improvised with a branch and some quietly spoken magic. He spared a glimpse for Arthur, fierce and beautiful as he fought, sword singing through the air as he swung it and sliced open another bandit. His sword was already red with blood, but they were severely outnumbered. It would almost be easier if Arthur fell, and then Merlin could wipe the lot of them out with a whirlwind. As it was, he had to pick them off one by one, as subtly as he could. It would already be suspicious enough that he could take down as many as he had.
And then Arthur did fall, and Merlin's heart lodged in his throat. It was only a stumble, caused by a lucky stroke to his leg, but Arthur was surrounded and in real danger. Merlin couldn't let him be hurt again. He raised his hand and--
Pain, and the ground rushed up to meet him. Another blow, and--
He woke up to a throbbing headache, and found himself sprawled face down by the stream. Had he been by the stream when he fell? Arthur, he thought, and opened his eyes wide in alarm. He immediately regretted it.
"My head," he groaned, and clutched at it. It felt intact from the outside, but surely it had been cracked open to hurt so much. There was some dried blood in his hair but nothing fresh. He splashed water on his face to help clear his mind, and sat up and looked around.
He was alone. There were signs of the fight, blood on the ground, but no bodies and no Arthur. Merlin wasn't sure if any of that was a good sign. The only reason the dead bandits would be gone was if the surviving bandits took them away to bury them. They'd left him for dead, but taken Arthur, which hopefully meant that he was still alive.
No, he had to be alive. Merlin would know if Arthur was dead. He would know it.
He had to find him. He stood up, wobbly on his feet, and tried to think, but his head was killing him. He needed water, and when he turned back to the stream he laughed harshly. His waterskin was still there, his stupid waterskin. He grabbed it angrily and filled it up, then drank deeply. He filled it again and looked around the clearing, trying to find some sign of where the bandits had taken Arthur.
He really should have paid more attention to Arthur's interminable lectures on tracking. There were footprints everywhere, and in the end he decided to go in the direction the bandits had arrived from. If they had taken their fellows to bury them, it would make sense that they would head back the way they had come. Besides, he had to find Arthur soon, or he'd end up having another goblet thrown at him, and his head was sore enough already.
He walked into the forest, full of determination.
§
Hours later, Merlin was fairly sure that he was lost.
Not that he knew where he was going in the first place, but he hadn't seen any freshly-broken twigs or disturbed ground for quite a while now. That was at least partly because it was getting too dark to see anything at all; he had tripped over enough roots and fallen logs in the past hour to determine that much.
"Just had to be a new moon," Merlin muttered, glaring at what little of the sky he could see through the heavy forest canopy. He finally gave in and summoned a ball of light, figuring that if he was properly lost then there wouldn't be anyone around to see his magic and start yelling about sorcery.
The glow of his magic bathed the forest in spectral light, casting strange shadows against the trees. They moved as he walked, making him see things out of the corners of his eyes. He never much cared for being alone in forests at night. They were all right with company and a blazing fire, but when he was on his own his imagination tended to get the better of him.
The further he walked, the more the forest seemed to close in on him. There was something different about this place, something old and alive. Maybe it was just his imagination, working hard to distract him from worrying about Arthur. Maybe.
"Don't be such a girl, Merlin," he said to himself, imitating Arthur's comfortingly dismissive tone. "They're just trees, they're not going to attack you."
That made him feel better. He was getting tired, though, and had to find some place to rest. A few hours of sleep and he would be fresh to keep going. Maybe it would finally stop his head from throbbing.
He stumbled onto another stream, and having exhausted his waterskin ages ago, he knelt down and drank deeply. The water was delicious, fresh and clean and cool as if right from mountain snow. He washed his face and hair, cleaning away the dry blood, and saw that there was a perfect spot to rest, mossy and soft. And there, a whole feast of berries, plump and ripe, and he realized how hungry he was. He scarfed them down, stuffing himself until he was sated, his hands scratched from the small thorns and his face sticky. He washed again, and drank, and curled up on the mossy bank to sleep. Just a few hours, he told himself, eyes already closing. Arthur would be waiting for him. Arthur would be...
Arthur...
§
He slept. He dreamed.
Arthur frequently filled his nights as they did his days. It was hardly strange, when every waking hour was spent either in his company or in his service, and when he was away from Arthur it was generally only because Merlin was doing everything he could to save his life. There were an endless number of memories to draw from: the grace of his movements as he trained, the fierceness of him as he fought, the lazy arrogance of him when he leaned his head back in the sun. The feel of his body under Merlin's hands as he washed him, his skin surprisingly soft over hard muscle, his hands and feet calloused from hours of walking and fighting. The wry smirk of his lips; the soft blue of his eyes, knowing and watchful. The way he sometimes leaned in and said Merlin's name, low and intimate like a lover, just to make him blush.
It was a new memory that Merlin dreamed of that night, of Arthur shoving him against the tree and pressing hard and hot against him. In his dream, there were no bandits, no dangers. Arthur's hand covered his mouth, but only to hush him, to still him as Arthur leaned in and tasted his neck, his collarbone. Merlin surrendered to him, and Arthur smirked, sliding a hand under his shirt, along his belly.
"Such a good servant," Arthur murmured, nuzzling him. "If I let you go, will you walk on your knees for me?"
Merlin groaned against Arthur's gloved hand and nodded, the bark of the tree rough against his head. Arthur released him and he sank down, falling to his knees before him. Arthur's armor was gone, and without it Merlin could see the bulge of his arousal straining in his trousers. His mouth watered, and his own cock twitched and ached with fullness.
Arthur looked down at him, imperious and commanding but also gentle, tender. He pulled off his shirt in one long movement, and then opened his trousers and pulled himself out. His cock was long and beautiful, just as Merlin had seen it so many times, when bathing Arthur or watching him wash in a stream or walk from a lake, water streaming down his sun-blessed skin, darkening and flattening his hair. There was a thatch of blond curls at his groin, and Merlin leaned in and breathed in the heady scent of it, the rich musk of Arthur's arousal and sweat.
"Arthur," Merlin moaned, desperate for him, aching for him. Arthur's hand rested in his hair, granting permission, and Merlin latched onto his cock to worship it with his mouth and his hands. It was hot against his lips, smooth as the silk of a lady's dress, and hard as the steel of a sword. It tasted clean, like the water from a mountain stream, and when he came, his seed was sweet as berries.
Merlin opened his eyes, not certain if he was awake. He was painfully aroused, and he felt drugged and feverish. The air was thick and fragrant, and everything around him felt impossibly alive, sharp and bright even in the filtered starlight. He shoved his hand into his trousers and groaned aloud as he gripped himself. His clothes felt too tight, too warm, and he shoved them off with clumsy hands. He rutted his cock against the soft moss, then gripped himself again until he came.
It didn't help. His arousal didn't lessen, and if anything grew stronger. He turned onto his back, whimpering and writhing, a heat flaring inside him. He tumbled into the stream, desperate to be soothed. The cold water cut through the haze, and he stumbled out again on shaky legs. And froze.
He wasn't alone. There was a man-- no, not a man. Something in the shape of a man, with the wide horns of a stag and a silver torque around its neck. He had been right about this forest. It was more than old, it was ancient, protected. No bandit would come here, but somehow he had been welcomed. Or trapped.
"What do you want with me?" Merlin asked, fighting the tremble in his voice.
"Emrys," said the creature, and it stepped forward. The starlight seemed to collect upon it, to make its bare skin glow in the darkness. "Do not be afraid. No harm will come to you in this place."
"Who are you?" Merlin asked, struggling to keep his head clear. "What have you done to me?"
"I am Cernunnos, and I have done nothing to you. But you have done something to me." Cernunnos stepped closer, and Merlin gasped at the sight of his erection, thick and high against his belly. The stag-god of the Old Religion, of wildness and fertility. He remembered making flower wreaths with his mum from the first blossoms of spring and leaving them at the edge of the forest, seeking blessings for the year's harvests.
"Your magic is powerful, Emrys, and burns like a fire in the night. You walked into my kingdom and drank from my streams, ate of my fruits. Your need called to me, and I have answered it." Cernunnos grinned. "Already you have given back to me, spilling your seed upon my earth."
"No," Merlin said, shaking his head and stumbling backwards. "No, I don't want this."
"No?" Cernunnos said, amused. "You are pure and untouched. You have lived among the humans, but not joined with them. Perhaps you are not meant for them." He stepped closer still, and he was beautiful and terrible, dark hair framing his face, dusting his body. His skin was marked with sigils and symbols, strength in every line. Here was the locus of the forest's power, life and magic pouring out of him, intoxicating and heady. It fed the heat in Merlin's belly, made him throb and burn. Merlin sank to his knees, nearly delirious.
"You are ripe, Emrys," Cernunnos said, standing above him, eyes golden and so very old. "You must be taken." He reached down and touched Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin cried out and slumped into his arms, overcome by his power. Wild lust shimmered in him like a summer heat, pervading him and making a haze of his thoughts. He snapped his hips, desperate to rut, to be mounted like a doe in heat. Cernunnos touched down his back, his arse, making him keen and whine, making his whole body flush and his cock swell impossibly full. A finger pressed into him, and found him slick and swollen inside.
"So ripe," Cernunnos admired. "Perhaps it is your destiny to be reclaimed from mankind. For you to give yourself to me. To let me--" He stopped, his eyes suddenly sharp, and he turned his head, quick as deer sensing danger. "Ah, your little king has come for you," he said, smirking and not at all afraid. "But will he take you from me?"
"Get away from him," Arthur growled.
Merlin tore himself from Cernunnos' hold and fell to the ground. He managed to crawl a few feet away, and the distance from the stag-god granted him some fraction of relief. He turned to see Arthur standing with his sword drawn, his armor gleaming in the starlight. He was scuffed and somewhat the worse for wear, but he was alive and whole.
"Arthur," Merlin said, shaking with relief and need. Arthur was all right, Arthur was safe. Arthur had come for him.
Arthur approached warily, uncertain of his attack. He threatened Cernunnos with his sword, and the stag-god backed away, allowing Arthur to stand between himself and Merlin. Arthur glared at Cernunnos and called to Merlin. "Merlin, are you all right? Are you hurt? Say something."
"I'm..." Merlin tried, but another wave of lust swamped him, and he slumped, whimpering. "Arthur," he moaned, reaching for him. "Arthur, please."
"What have you done to him?" Arthur yelled, furious. "I order you to remove your enchantments. Do it, or I will cut you down!"
"You have no authority here, little king," Cernunnos said. "And Emrys has done this to himself. He walked unclaimed into my forest and ate greedily of my fruit. His magic has mingled with my own. It is only his love for you, little king, that stops me, and not your sword. Take him, or I will finish what I have started."
Arthur stared at Merlin, then Cernunnos, and then back to Merlin again, as if unable to accept what he had been told. Betrayal rose on his face like a terrible sunrise.
"Is this true?" Arthur asked, pained. "You have magic?"
Merlin closed his eyes, not wanting to see Arthur's disgust, his hatred. "Yes," he said, his throat tightening with fear. He never dreamed that this was how Arthur would find out about him, that this would be the baring of his soul. Maybe Cernunnos was right. Maybe it would be for the best if he let himself be taken by the Old Religion, and spare Arthur the pain of his execution. He opened his eyes and looked to the stag-god.
"Then you have made your choice," Cernunnos said, stepping forward, expecting Arthur to stand aside. But Arthur didn't budge.
"Don't. Touch him," Arthur said, jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. "Merlin, get up. I'm taking you out of here."
"Emrys is ripe," Cernunnos said, watching them with interest. "He cannot leave my forest until he has been claimed, by god or by man. If you have no interest in him..."
"Shut up," Arthur growled. "Merlin! Now!"
Merlin tried to stand, he really did. But the fever was too much for him, and he hurt, he burned. He curled around himself on the ground and shivered.
"What's wrong with him?" Arthur demanded.
"I have told you," Cernunnos said, growing annoyed. "He must be claimed, and soon, unless you wish to see him suffer. He believes that you will kill him. I do not see why I should allow either to happen."
"I'm not going to--" Arthur rounded on Merlin. "I'm not going to kill you. Of course I'm not going to kill you! How can you even think that!"
"I have magic," Merlin slurred, the words cracking him open as he spoke them. "I've always... I was born with it. I'm sorry." He felt tears on his face, streaming out of him, and wondered why they didn't sizzle like water on a hot pan. "For you, Arthur. Everything for you."
Arthur stared at him for so long that Merlin could only believe the worst. That the twin revelations of Merlin's magic and his love were simply too much. Merlin swallowed, his heart breaking a little more with every passing second. Of course it would end this way. Of course.
"I thought you were dead," Arthur said, voice tight with emotion. "They showed me your body and they laughed. I broke free and killed them, every last one of them, and I came back for you. For your... but you were gone. You were... Why didn't you wait for me?"
"Had to save you," Merlin slurred.
Arthur gave a desperate laugh. "I leave you alone for a second..." He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again, do you hear me? When we get back to Camelot..."
Merlin's hope struggled back to life. "Arthur?"
"What do I have to do?" Arthur asked, rounding on Cernunnos. "To claim him?"
"Surely you do not need me to explain it," Cernunnos smirked.
"Right," Arthur said, taking a deep breath. "Are you just going to stand there and watch the whole time?"
"This is my forest," Cernunnos said. "There is nothing here that is hidden from me. But if Emrys wishes, I will remove my presence."
"Please," Merlin rasped. He would have blushed if he was capable of it.
Cernunnos nodded in acceptance. "Do not think to fool me, little king. Fail him, and I will come for him." And in a blink, he disappeared.
Arthur slumped in relief, setting down his sword and hurrying to Merlin's side. He pulled off his gloves and touched Merlin's cheek. "You're burning up," he fretted. "I have to get you back to Gaius, not..."
"Arthur," Merlin slurred, gripping Arthur's wrist. "I'm sorry. I can't... I won't make you do this. You should go. I'll be all right here."
"No," Arthur said, his eyes reddening. "I'm not going to leave you here and let some monster rape you."
"He's not... a monster," Merlin said, as gently as he could. "He's a god. I used to... pray to him. In the spring." He moaned as the fire swept through him again, stripping away another piece of what was left of his self-control.
"That doesn't make it any better," Arthur said. He cursed and started undoing his sword belt. "I'm not letting some... some oversexed god take you away from me."
Merlin mustered a smile. "Arthur..."
"No," Arthur said, firmly. "I'm doing this, so stop trying to talk me out of it." He started removing his plating. "Anyone else would be flattered, but not you, Merlin, oh no. A fate worse than death, for you, to have the favor of a handsome prince."
"It's not," Merlin protested, and it was hard to look at Arthur, to see what he had longed for, so he turned his face against his arm. "Don't know why I... fell in love with you." Surely his cheeks must be burning beneath his fever.
"Maybe there was just something about me," Arthur said, and pulled off his mail. "Like there was always something about you."
"Don't," Merlin rasped, ashamed. "Don't pretend. It's bad enough..."
Arthur pulled off his surcoat and folded it up, then tucked it under Merlin's head. "Who said anything about pretending?"
Merlin looked up at him, through the haze in his head, and saw the raw emotion in Arthur's eyes. Fear and sorrow and relief and determination, and through it all there was love, enough love to take anyone's breath away. For Merlin, it was simply too much to bear. He began to cry again, this time in great blubbering sobs.
Arthur gathered him into his arms and hushed him. Merlin pressed his face against Arthur's shirt and made a mess of it, and thought that maybe, maybe he would be able to go home after this. Maybe everything would be all right, and he would do Arthur's laundry and wash away the mess he had made.
Once Merlin had calmed again, Arthur let him back down and used his sleeve to dry Merlin's eyes and wipe the snot from his nose. He pulled off his shirt and set it aside, then stood to remove what was left. And then he was naked, as beautiful as ever, even with the dried blood on his leg and his arms, the bruises on his wrists..
"You're hurt," Merlin sniffed, reaching for him.
"I'll be all right," Arthur said, laying down beside him. "It's you I'm worried about. Does it hurt?"
It did, but the moment Merlin was in Arthur's arms, the pain began to go away. "Not anymore."
"Good," Arthur said, and took a deep breath, let it out. "Good. We're doing this. Everything else... it will wait."
Everything else, like Merlin being a sorcerer, and a servant, and a man, and everything inappropriate for a prince to love. They would probably only ever have this one night, Merlin realized. And if it didn't ruin everything, it might even be worth it, just to have the memory. Just to know Arthur, and be known by him, and no longer be untouched. At least the unicorns would leave him alone after this.
Arthur kissed him, soft and tentative. It took a moment for Merlin to respond, as he barely believed that it was happening at all. But this was Arthur against him, this body that he knew almost better than his own. These hands that he had tended, these lips that he had longed for. This was Arthur.
Something was suddenly triggered inside of Merlin, and his lust surged anew, stronger than ever. He wrapped one leg around Arthur and thrust desperately against him, pawed at him and scratched at his back with blunted nails. He needed Arthur inside him, needed it more than air, more than anything else.
"Gods," Arthur breathed, struggling to hold him. "Merlin."
"Fuck me," Merlin begged, pleaded, demanded. "Fuck me, Arthur. I need you inside me. Filling me up. You have to, have to, Arthur, Arthur please..."
"Shh, I'm here," Arthur soothed, reaching down between Merlin's legs. He sank his finger inside and hissed. "You're burning up inside. And you're wet, like a woman."
"Magic," Merlin said, dazedly. He groaned and clenched around Arthur's finger. "'s not enough. Please, please."
"All right, shh. Let me..." Arthur had to pry himself free from Merlin's deathly grip, and then hooked Merlin's legs over his shoulders. He brought the tip of his cock to Merlin's entrance and paused for a long moment, for the last chance before it was too late to change his mind, and then he thrust and sank inside.
Merlin cried out, and the wild magic in him surged in triumph. This was what it wanted, and it would only be sated once Arthur's seed had been spilled. It was ancient magic, as old as the world itself, and far stronger than his own. He was helpless in its thrall, and rode Arthur desperately, urging him on and in, incoherent with need. Arthur cursed and struggled but he too was taken by it, and then they were not themselves but two bodies intimately joined, their shared lust making a union of them.
They came together, Arthur pouring himself deep, Merlin's body throbbing and clenching around him, the come pulsing through his cock like fire. As they sank back down, shuddering and panting, the air trembled with the bellow of a great stag.
The fever broke, and Merlin began to pass out. The last thing he heard was Cernunnos' voice, disembodied yet from everywhere at once, loud yet soft as a whisper.
"Guard him well, little king. For all his power, he will need your protection most."
§
When Merlin opened his eyes, he was lying beside the stream -- not the one in Cernunnos' forest, but where the bandits had attacked them. For a moment, he thought the entire mad affair had been nothing but a dream, the product of a blow to the head and his own overactive imagination. He was clothed and he felt no fever. But when he sat up, it was not his head that felt sore.
Arthur was sitting beside him, staring at the trees and frowning.
"Arthur?" Merlin said, his voice scratchy and rough.
"Nothing must come of this," Arthur said. "We will pretend that last night never happened."
"Oh."
"Don't argue with me, Merlin," Arthur said, angrily.
"I'm not," Merlin insisted. "I understand. I..." He swallowed. "Thank you for your leniency."
"It is treason," Arthur said, sharply. "If you are found out, I cannot save you. You may leave now, if you wish."
"No!" Merlin said, hurriedly. "No, I have to stay. To protect you."
Arthur turned and looked at him at last. Whatever emotions Merlin had seen in him last night, they were gone now, locked tightly away. "Very well," Arthur said, standing up. "But don't do anything stupid." Then, as if realizing the pointlessness of such an order, he shook his head. "Don't..." he tried again. "Just don't."
Merlin nodded.
"Let's go home," Arthur said, softer this time, and he offered his hand and a sad smile. It wasn't much, but Merlin knew it would have to be enough. At least he hadn't lost Arthur entirely. Whatever scraps he was allowed, they would be enough. They always had been.
§
It would be an understatement to say that things were awkward between them when they returned to Camelot. For the first few weeks, Arthur found every excuse not to be around Merlin, and Merlin found every excuse not to be around Arthur. Their lives intersected solely when necessary. Gaius was concerned, Gwen was worried, but there was nothing any of them could do about it. What was done was done. Merlin was almost glad when Uther declared that it was time for Arthur to go on a quest, alone and unaided.
Merlin would have been relieved to not have to spend his days avoiding Arthur, but then he saw the strange bracelet Morgana gave Arthur, and 'alone and unaided' ended up meaning 'with Merlin and also Gwaine'. It was wonderful to see Gwaine again and pretend that everything was normal. And something about Gwaine's easygoing presence finally did break some of the tension between himself and Arthur, so by the time they returned to the castle, they could at least go back to being prince and servant, if not prince and sort-of-friend-if-princes-had-friends.
It was around then that Merlin started to feel a bit off. He was never much of a morning person, but he found it harder than usual to drag himself out of bed, and then on top of that he could barely stand the sight of breakfast. But in the evening, he would crave the oddest things, and Gaius would often find him eating a plate of pickled eggs, salted herring, and raw onions dipped in honey. Gaius merely raised his eyebrows at him and left out little bottles filled with mint leaves and some sort of cool-tasting elixir, which Gaius claimed would prevent the castle populace from fleeing in terror of his breath.
Merlin was quite surprised when Alice visited, but he couldn't begrudge Gaius the chance to rekindle a romance, not when his own hopes had been so thoroughly snuffed. It was Alice who figured it out first, when she joked that if she didn't know better, she would say that Merlin was showing all the symptoms of pregnancy. Merlin dropped his plate in horrified realization, and the pickled eggs rolled out of sight.
Gaius wasn't in the room, thankfully, but later on he found Merlin sitting on his own and staring blankly at the little wooden dragon that Balinor had given him.
"Merlin?" Gaius said, cautiously. "Is something wrong? Alice said you took ill."
"Gaius," Merlin said, voice choked with emotion. "I need to tell you something. Please don't be mad."
"What have you done this time?" Gaius asked, with weary resignation. He sat down beside him on the bed.
Merlin swallowed, and explained about what had happened those months ago. About Cernunnos and the berries and the magic and the strange cravings. "And I think... I think..."
"I see," Gaius said, understanding at once.
"What am I going to do?" Merlin asked, tearfully.
"You're going to stop panicking and tell Arthur," Gaius said. "And I wish you had told me sooner. Especially about Arthur knowing about your magic!"
"I can't," Merlin said, urgently. "I can't tell him. It was all my fault, and he just wants to forget it ever happened."
"He's going to find out eventually," Gaius pointed out.
"But not yet," Merlin insisted. "He doesn't have to know. I'm not even showing yet." He tried to smile, but it came out all wrong.
"Oh dear," Gaius said, and pulled him into a hug. Merlin sniffed and dried his eyes on Gaius' woolen robe. "I think the first thing we should do is write to your mother."
"Oh gods, mum." Merlin wasn't sure what her reaction would be: happiness at having a grandchild, or horror that her son, her very male son, was pregnant.
§
Things got a little better after that. Merlin's morning sickness faded away, and his mum wrote back sounding stunned but overjoyed. The loose shirts he habitually wore gave him the perfect disguise. And as he had never been able to gain much weight, even though his growing bump stood out starkly against his slim body when he was naked, no changes were apparent in his face or anywhere else.
He even managed to reconnect with Arthur. Morgana finally struck at Camelot's heart and claimed the throne for herself, and he and Arthur ended up stuck in a cave together. When Arthur's sulking became unbearable, Merlin talked him out of it by reminding him that no matter what, Arthur had a duty to Camelot, to the people. And once it was over and Morgana and Morgause were defeated, everything at last went back to normal between them.
Except it didn't. It couldn't. Not when the bump under Merlin's shirt grew bigger by the day, not when he spent most nights lying awake in bed, feeling the baby move against his hand and worrying about the future. He wasn't going to be able to hide his condition much longer.
At least Uther was gone. He hadn't died, but he had retreated into a strange sort of madness, and was rarely seen outside of his chambers anymore. Arthur became Prince Regent, and Merlin had never been more proud of him.
But it was all coming to an end.
He was going to have to leave. What choice did he have? Camelot was no place for any child of his. He might have worked up the courage to tell Arthur, but not when he was so distracted by his father's ill health and the weight of his responsibilities. Arthur was always busy now, and barely had the time to exchange a few words with him. It was just as well. Perhaps it would be easier this way, to just slip out of Arthur's life unnoticed. To not have to answer any questions, or tell him the truth about their son.
They were going to have a son. He knew it was a boy, he just knew.
He was crying in his room one night when the door suddenly opened, and before Merlin could cover himself with a pillow Gwen saw his bump and gaped at him. There was a long, painful silence as Gwen stared in shock and Merlin wiped at his eyes and had absolutely no idea what to say.
"How--" Gwen said, and then took a halting step forward, then another. She sat down on the bed and reached out a tentative hand, and Merlin nodded, allowing it. She rested her hand on the bump and the baby kicked and Gwen broke into a brilliant smile.
"I suppose this is why you've been avoiding everyone," she said, amazed. "How is this even possible?"
"Magic," Merlin admitted, and swallowed hard. Gwen wouldn't betray him, and he would be leaving soon anyway. "It was an accident."
"Do you know who the father is?" Gwen shook her head. "I mean, of course you know who the father is. Or is it the mother? Merlin, you're pregnant!"
"I had noticed, thanks," Merlin said. "And yes, but I'm not going to tell him."
"What do you mean, you're--" Her eyes widened. "Is it Gwaine? Tell me it's not Gwaine."
Merlin smiled. "It's not Gwaine."
"I know for a fact that it wasn't Lancelot," she said, with a slight blush, "but you barely spend time with anyone else, and there's no way it's Gaius--"
Merlin shuddered. "No."
"--and the only other man you're with is--" Her eyes widened even more. "No. No. Tell me it's not Arthur."
Merlin gave an embarrassed shrug.
Gwen squeaked. "You have to tell him! Merlin, you're pregnant!" She covered her mouth with her hands, unable to contain herself.
"I can't. And you have to promise me you won't tell him. Promise me, Gwen, please!"
Gwen calmed down. "Of course, I won't. But... he's going to figure it out soon enough. The moment he drags himself out of council and actually looks at you--"
"And that's exactly why I'm leaving," Merlin said, rather bravely. "I'm going home to Ealdor."
"When?"
"I don't know. Soon. And I need you to promise me something else. I need you to take care of him for me, while I'm gone."
"Oh, Merlin," Gwen sighed.
"Please, Gwen," Merlin said, his throat tightening up again. "He doesn't like being alone, even if he says he does. It's always upset him if I leave without telling him. I need you to be there for him. To make sure he's all right."
"When will you be back?"
"I don't know," Merlin said, the truth sticking in his chest. "More than a day, and that's usually enough to make him fling his goblet at me."
Gwen hugged him. "I'll miss you. We all will."
"I'll miss you, too," Merlin said.
As soon as Gwen left, Merlin took the packed bags from under his bed. He hadn't intended to leave tonight, but having been discovered once, he knew that he could put it off no longer. He walked out into the courtyard and looked up one last time at Arthur's window, and then snuck out to the stables and saddled his mare.
He rode away from Camelot and did not look back.
§
CONTINUED IN PART 2