Fic: Merlin: Doomesticity - Merlin/Arthur
Title: Doomesticity
Rating: PG
Warnings: MPREG.
Word Count: 1097
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: In the middle of their hectic lives, Merlin and Arthur share a quiet moment of domesticity. With their children. And nothing's ever quiet with them around...
AN: An epilogue to my Magic, Marriage and Mayhem 'verse (which isn't yet finished in itself ¬_¬). For anyone interested, the first part can be found here.
This was written for littlewolfstar for one of the drabbles she asked for over at help_haiti. Hope this is what you wanted, hon! Cheerled by shantirosa and beta'd by phantomjam - also, believe it or not, the title is not a misspelling.
**
“Arthur!”
Everyone in the castle of Camelot politely pretended that the walls hadn’t shaken with the King Consort’s scream, and then equally politely pretended not to see King Arthur heading towards the royal quarters with a haste which bordered on the undignified.
When Arthur finally reached the safety of their own chambers and had shut the door, he offered Merlin a stern glare, even as he swept the toddling Ylaine up into a deeply undignified cuddle. “I’ve told you not to scream for me like that!” he snapped, the effect of which was rather ruined as Ylaine’s chubby, uncoordinated hands knocked his crown askew. “What if I’d been in the middle of something important? Like my council meeting?!”
“Your council meeting isn’t for another half an hour, and if you hadn’t come then I’d have known something important was going on,” Merlin said, unforgivably reasonable, watching as Arthur brought their daughter back over to the table and popped her down into her special raised chair. “And anyway, I didn’t think you’d want to miss this.”
Arthur offered Merlin’s reasoning a kingly glower. “Well, next time, find a different use for your oh-so wonderful magic powers,” he grumbled. “And what is it this time? I was busy, you know, running the kingdom and other footling little pieces of business.”
“Oh, well, it’s nothing much if you want to get back to your footling little pieces of business-”
“Merlin!”
“Well, I think Ylaine might be teething-”
“You’ve that thought she ‘might be teething’ for a fortnight now, Merlin,” Arthur began, deeply long-suffering, but Merlin just offered him a triumphant grin.
“And now she’s cut a tooth! You see, my mother was right, nothing beats a mother’s instinct!”
Arthur sighed. “Anything else? Anything that couldn’t have waited until the evening meal?”
“Well, Bran’s been asking when he’s going to be King again-”
“Supplanted! And by my own son!” Arthur ruffled Bran’s hair as their eldest beamed up at him, clearly not understanding the word ‘supplanted’, but happy to share any joke with his much-worshipped father.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes, quite. And - this one just started kicking.”
Arthur glanced up from the impromptu battle he’d just started with Bran, eyes flickering to the baby bump Merlin was once again sporting (much to his extremely vocal disapproval). “Kicking?”
“Like a horse,” Merlin confirmed, somehow contriving to look both annoyed and fond at the same time.
Arthur carefully disentangled himself from Bran and came forwards to press a hand to the Bump. “Everything going alright in there?” he asked gently and Merlin didn’t reply. That was fine - Arthur hadn’t been asking him.
“Worth missing your council meeting for?” Merlin asked after a couple of moments of silence, and Arthur looked up again. Whatever reply he had been about to make was interrupted by the baby giving Merlin another solid kick.
“Well, he certainly thinks so,” Arthur grinned, and Merlin raised an eyebrow.
“Baby has his priorities straight,” he said pointedly.
“Who thinks so?” Bran demanded from the table. “Who are you talking about?” Ylaine apparently also wanted to know, if the string of barely-comprehensible gibberish she came out with was anything to go by.
Merlin grinned, heaving her up into his arms and managing to move a little closer to Bran with a degree of grace. “In here is your little brother or sister,” he explained, carefully supporting Ylaine with just the one hand and patting the Bump with the other. “D’you remember the time before Ylaine came along, Bran?”
Ylaine perked up at the sound of her name, but quickly turned her attention back to the exploration of Merlin’s ear - now that she was receiving what she felt to be her due attention, she was perfectly content simply to observe. Bran, meanwhile, paused, frowning a little, then shook his head decidedly. “No,” he said. “Is there going to be another Ylaine?” Another copy of his little sister was clearly to be reviled.
Arthur laughed at the look of sheer disgust on the little boy’s face. “We don’t know yet,” he said. “It might be a little girl or a little boy. Wouldn’t you like a little brother?”
Bran considered it. “I might,” he conceded eventually. “If he did what I told him to.”
Arthur, who found his children to be sources of endless amusement (mainly, Merlin believed, because he mystically managed to be elsewhere whenever one of them was misbehaving), laughed again. “There are people I’d like more if they always did as I said,” he agreed. “Most of whom I should be talking to right now.”
Bran took that in and translated it into something he could really grasp. “You’ve got to go?” he asked, his face falling.
“Yes, I have,” Arthur nodded, stroking his son’s hair for a moment, a demonstration of the physical affection Uther had never showed him. “But I’ll be back later.” Bran began to pout, and Merlin just knew that the boy was going to be sullen and intractable all afternoon, a nasty side-effect of Arthur’s rare daytime visits to the nursery, rarer since Uther’s death and his own coronation. Luckily for all concerned, Arthur recognised the signs of an impending Black Mood as well. “And I want to hear from Papa that you’ve both been good and well-behaved for him all afternoon, hmm?” he ruffled Bran’s hair and pinched Ylaine’s chin very gently.
“Fine,” Bran sulked, and Arthur nodded.
“That’s my good boy.” He turned to Merlin. “It shouldn’t be too long, I’ll be back at maybe five? Six?”
“You can tell them that the wardstone is working properly again,” Merlin said, absently wiping a little dribble off Ylaine’s chin.
Arthur gave him a sharp look. “When did that happen?”
“About half an hour ago, just before I called for you,” Merlin said innocently. “It just didn’t seem so important after Baby made itself known.”
Arthur shook his head. “So domesticated,” he sighed, and Merlin frowned at him.
“I just got kicked from the inside by an impossible baby, and I can still raze the Gods’ green earth if I get too annoyed with you, so I’d keep your insinuations to yourself, my lord king.” He ruined the effect by grinning. “Now go and shock the council members by telling them that Camelot’s defences are wholly secure - they really hate it when you deprive them of things to moan about - and I’ll look after the brats.”
Arthur dropped quick kisses onto Ylaine and Bran’s hair and pecked Merlin’s cheek, still flushing up ridiculously as he pulled back. “Take care of yourself now.”
“Go!”
Rating: PG
Warnings: MPREG.
Word Count: 1097
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: In the middle of their hectic lives, Merlin and Arthur share a quiet moment of domesticity. With their children. And nothing's ever quiet with them around...
AN: An epilogue to my Magic, Marriage and Mayhem 'verse (which isn't yet finished in itself ¬_¬). For anyone interested, the first part can be found here.
This was written for littlewolfstar for one of the drabbles she asked for over at help_haiti. Hope this is what you wanted, hon! Cheerled by shantirosa and beta'd by phantomjam - also, believe it or not, the title is not a misspelling.
**
“Arthur!”
Everyone in the castle of Camelot politely pretended that the walls hadn’t shaken with the King Consort’s scream, and then equally politely pretended not to see King Arthur heading towards the royal quarters with a haste which bordered on the undignified.
When Arthur finally reached the safety of their own chambers and had shut the door, he offered Merlin a stern glare, even as he swept the toddling Ylaine up into a deeply undignified cuddle. “I’ve told you not to scream for me like that!” he snapped, the effect of which was rather ruined as Ylaine’s chubby, uncoordinated hands knocked his crown askew. “What if I’d been in the middle of something important? Like my council meeting?!”
“Your council meeting isn’t for another half an hour, and if you hadn’t come then I’d have known something important was going on,” Merlin said, unforgivably reasonable, watching as Arthur brought their daughter back over to the table and popped her down into her special raised chair. “And anyway, I didn’t think you’d want to miss this.”
Arthur offered Merlin’s reasoning a kingly glower. “Well, next time, find a different use for your oh-so wonderful magic powers,” he grumbled. “And what is it this time? I was busy, you know, running the kingdom and other footling little pieces of business.”
“Oh, well, it’s nothing much if you want to get back to your footling little pieces of business-”
“Merlin!”
“Well, I think Ylaine might be teething-”
“You’ve that thought she ‘might be teething’ for a fortnight now, Merlin,” Arthur began, deeply long-suffering, but Merlin just offered him a triumphant grin.
“And now she’s cut a tooth! You see, my mother was right, nothing beats a mother’s instinct!”
Arthur sighed. “Anything else? Anything that couldn’t have waited until the evening meal?”
“Well, Bran’s been asking when he’s going to be King again-”
“Supplanted! And by my own son!” Arthur ruffled Bran’s hair as their eldest beamed up at him, clearly not understanding the word ‘supplanted’, but happy to share any joke with his much-worshipped father.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes, quite. And - this one just started kicking.”
Arthur glanced up from the impromptu battle he’d just started with Bran, eyes flickering to the baby bump Merlin was once again sporting (much to his extremely vocal disapproval). “Kicking?”
“Like a horse,” Merlin confirmed, somehow contriving to look both annoyed and fond at the same time.
Arthur carefully disentangled himself from Bran and came forwards to press a hand to the Bump. “Everything going alright in there?” he asked gently and Merlin didn’t reply. That was fine - Arthur hadn’t been asking him.
“Worth missing your council meeting for?” Merlin asked after a couple of moments of silence, and Arthur looked up again. Whatever reply he had been about to make was interrupted by the baby giving Merlin another solid kick.
“Well, he certainly thinks so,” Arthur grinned, and Merlin raised an eyebrow.
“Baby has his priorities straight,” he said pointedly.
“Who thinks so?” Bran demanded from the table. “Who are you talking about?” Ylaine apparently also wanted to know, if the string of barely-comprehensible gibberish she came out with was anything to go by.
Merlin grinned, heaving her up into his arms and managing to move a little closer to Bran with a degree of grace. “In here is your little brother or sister,” he explained, carefully supporting Ylaine with just the one hand and patting the Bump with the other. “D’you remember the time before Ylaine came along, Bran?”
Ylaine perked up at the sound of her name, but quickly turned her attention back to the exploration of Merlin’s ear - now that she was receiving what she felt to be her due attention, she was perfectly content simply to observe. Bran, meanwhile, paused, frowning a little, then shook his head decidedly. “No,” he said. “Is there going to be another Ylaine?” Another copy of his little sister was clearly to be reviled.
Arthur laughed at the look of sheer disgust on the little boy’s face. “We don’t know yet,” he said. “It might be a little girl or a little boy. Wouldn’t you like a little brother?”
Bran considered it. “I might,” he conceded eventually. “If he did what I told him to.”
Arthur, who found his children to be sources of endless amusement (mainly, Merlin believed, because he mystically managed to be elsewhere whenever one of them was misbehaving), laughed again. “There are people I’d like more if they always did as I said,” he agreed. “Most of whom I should be talking to right now.”
Bran took that in and translated it into something he could really grasp. “You’ve got to go?” he asked, his face falling.
“Yes, I have,” Arthur nodded, stroking his son’s hair for a moment, a demonstration of the physical affection Uther had never showed him. “But I’ll be back later.” Bran began to pout, and Merlin just knew that the boy was going to be sullen and intractable all afternoon, a nasty side-effect of Arthur’s rare daytime visits to the nursery, rarer since Uther’s death and his own coronation. Luckily for all concerned, Arthur recognised the signs of an impending Black Mood as well. “And I want to hear from Papa that you’ve both been good and well-behaved for him all afternoon, hmm?” he ruffled Bran’s hair and pinched Ylaine’s chin very gently.
“Fine,” Bran sulked, and Arthur nodded.
“That’s my good boy.” He turned to Merlin. “It shouldn’t be too long, I’ll be back at maybe five? Six?”
“You can tell them that the wardstone is working properly again,” Merlin said, absently wiping a little dribble off Ylaine’s chin.
Arthur gave him a sharp look. “When did that happen?”
“About half an hour ago, just before I called for you,” Merlin said innocently. “It just didn’t seem so important after Baby made itself known.”
Arthur shook his head. “So domesticated,” he sighed, and Merlin frowned at him.
“I just got kicked from the inside by an impossible baby, and I can still raze the Gods’ green earth if I get too annoyed with you, so I’d keep your insinuations to yourself, my lord king.” He ruined the effect by grinning. “Now go and shock the council members by telling them that Camelot’s defences are wholly secure - they really hate it when you deprive them of things to moan about - and I’ll look after the brats.”
Arthur dropped quick kisses onto Ylaine and Bran’s hair and pecked Merlin’s cheek, still flushing up ridiculously as he pulled back. “Take care of yourself now.”
“Go!”