Magic, Marriage and Mayhem, Part 7
Title: Magic, Marriage and Mayhem
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mpreg as a major plotpoint, unabashed fluff, and a little - a very little - swearing. Also, ZOMG, Arthur and Merlin actually manage to kiss this chapter. I am confused as to how this baby occurred when the two of them are so very chaste. They just WILL NOT behave and get it on like they should.
Summary: Uther warns Arthur about his dalliance with his servant, and reminds him that Camelot will need an heir. Well, it looks like that's not a problem any more...
AN: A big shout-out to this fic's family. ^_^ Also, to acetamide who looked it over for me when I was insecure about it. It's longer this time to make up for the short short chapter last time...but the funny is officially dead, and it's becoming much more detailed than I intended. So long as it doesn't dissolve into an emo angst-fest, though, I think I'm OK? And there will be humour returning later, I hope.
Feedback is adored!
**
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six
**
Merlin grabbed his arm before he got too far away. “Thank you.” he said, eyes wide and honest. “I’d kiss you, but I don’t think I’d taste very nice right now.”
Arthur pulled a face. “Yes. Your breakfast looked revolting enough the first time I saw it, I doubt time has improved it.”
“Hey! I like porridge!” Merlin said, defensively. “When Gaius hasn’t made it, anyway.”
Arthur shuddered in sympathy. “If Gaius’ food tastes anything like his medicine, you have my deepest sympathy,” he said, sincerely.
Merlin grinned, that huge, ridiculous grin of his which had been appearing less often lately, and Arthur couldn’t quite stop himself from grinning back. Maybe this whole thing would work out OK. At least being married to Merlin was better than being married to any of the girls who’d been paraded around in front of him since he was old enough to know that girls were different from boys and weren’t, in fact, the carriers of some obscure plague.
At least marriage to Merlin would be fun. At least he had a hope in hell of still enjoying Merlin’s company in twenty years time.
And if he was fairly certain he loved Merlin that was nobody’s business but his own. Right?
**
Morgana swept into Merlin’s chambers just as Arthur was leaving them, giving him the barest nod of greeting as he made good his escape.
“This,” she said icily to Merlin, “is a disgrace.”
Merlin winced. “I know I’m not exactly a shining tribute to your teaching,” he said carefully, “But I should survive lunch, shouldn’t I?”
She favoured him with a pitying look, but he noticed to his relief that Gwen looked just as confused as him. “This isn’t about you, Merlin, it’s about Uther and his little power games,” she explained. “If he can get to you now, before you’re really ready, he can hold it over you forever. You’ll always be the incompetent peasant Arthur was tricked into marrying.”
“To be honest, Morgana,” he said slowly, “I’m pretty sure I’ll always be that, even if I carry this off perfectly.”
“But by doing it this way, he sets himself up as so superior,” she argued. “All his snide little comments-”
“I’ll just have to ignore them, then,” Merlin said quickly. Really, he’d been hoping for some practical advice, and Morgana was just making him feel even worse.
“It’s not fair,” she burst out. “Anyone with half an eye can see that you’re good for Arthur, and - Gods, Uther springing this on you is not fair.”
“I’m sure you’ve realised by now that life never is,” he replied, more gently than he’d ever dared speak to her before. Neither Morgana nor Arthur were people who particularly inspired gentleness.
For a moment, the two of them exchanged a long, silent look. Finally Gwen broke the silence, saying very softly, “what does Merlin most need to know, my lady?”
Morgana shook herself. “Yes,” she paused briefly to collect her thoughts. “Both Arthur and I will be there, so we can distract the King if he gets too - antagonistic.” Her mouth tightened a little, but she continued without pause. “It’s just lunch, so the food won’t be anything elaborate - soup, meat course, light sweet. Remember to start from the outside in with the cutlery, and don’t, whatever you do, slurp the soup,” Merlin risked a smile, but her only response was a twitch of the lips, “Uther hates it. I know that makes it tempting, but resist, for Arthur’s sake.”
“Oh, well, if it’s for Arthur-”
“Merlin.” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he subsided. “Apart from that - sit up straight, look duly respectful and let one of us field any really difficult questions for the moment. Just be as polite as possible. And... don’t tell any of your jokes.”
“No jokes. Right. Got it,” he nodded vigorously, and Morgana gave him an anxious look.
“I know this isn’t ideal, and you probably don’t feel ready, but the practice is no bad thing. It would be better if it wasn’t in front of a biased judge, but... we’ll help you, and you should pull it off.”
“I hope so,” he could tell his worry was showing on his face, but he managed to return Morgana’s smile when she offered him one. “Thank you for all your help.”
“I won’t let Uther ruin anything else for Arthur, especially not this,” she said fiercely, then softened. “He would hate to see something go wrong for you. Now, sit at the table and show me how you deal with servants giving you your food. Gwen, if you wouldn’t mind...”
**
Half an hour later saw Merlin and Arthur entering the smaller, private dining room the royal family used when there were no other guests joining them for the meal. Uther and Morgana were already waiting for them, though they hadn’t yet taken their seats - they weren’t late, despite Merlin’s terror that they were going to be.
Merlin was doing his best to quell his ever-growing nerves, and in an uncharacteristically sensitive move, Arthur’s hand was low on his back, warm and reassuring. Somehow, that made it a little easier to meet Uther’s cool, assessing grey eyes.
The King greeted them with a strained smile. “Arthur... Merlin. I’m glad you could join us. I trust you’ve had a pleasant morning?” The question as addressed to Merlin and, just too late, the King seemed to remember his bout of morning sickness. His expression became slightly fixed.
Merlin only just managed not to stare. This was not the Uther Morgana had given him to expect. “Um, yes, thank you, your Majesty,” he managed a little awkwardly. “I hope your morning has been, um-” he fished, desperately, for something to say. ‘Equally pleasant’ would probably be taken as an insult, and everything else he could think of just sounded patronising. “Successful,” he settled on rather pathetically.
Morgana gave him a tiny smile, and Arthur’s hand relaxed a little from the claw it had formed when Uther started speaking, the fingers which had been digging uncomfortably into Merlin’s lower back relaxing into a more comfortable pressure.
Arthur guided him a little closer to the table, and he allowed himself a quick, reserved smile at Morgana, before Uther was speaking again. “Do you have any plans for the afternoon, Arthur?” he asked, indicating that they should sit. It probably touched Merlin more than it should have done that Arthur apparently instinctively pulled out his chair for him. It buoyed him up to know that there were at least two people in the room who didn’t treat him, or expect him to act, like an ill-mannered peasant.
Arthur paused. “Well, I’ve completed all the reports you wanted me to read, and I’ve written up my suggestions for the problem you’ve been having with infantry recruitment.” Merlin glanced at him, a little surprised, since for once Arthur hadn’t mentioned anything to him, “Since the majority of the knights have patrol shifts today, rather than training, I thought Merlin and I might go for a ride.”
Uther nodded, looking more than a little awkward. “Do you - ride often, Merlin?” he asked politely.
Merlin hastily swallowed the mouthful of soup he’d just taken, and burnt his throat; fighting back coughs, he realised just how unfortunate the King’s question had sounded, and coughed even harder. Finally, utterly embarrassed, he managed a nod. “More since I started working for,” how was he supposed to talk about Arthur in front of the King? “Arthur, your Majesty.”
Thankfully, Uther didn’t seem thrown by the familiar name, simply nodding. “Well, you must of course be careful.” His tone was just a little too dry. “If anything happened to the heir-”
“I would never do anything to hurt - um, the heir,” Merlin said quickly, intending to assure the King of his sincerity. However, Uther’s lips twisted wryly.
“No,” he agreed, more dryly still. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
Arthur cleared his throat warningly, and Merlin, who had looked down at his bowl, only caught the tail end of the long glance the two of them exchanged.
“I hadn’t checked my plans with Merlin, so they’re not definite,” Arthur said quietly. “He may have commitments of his own.”
“Nothing too arduous, I hope,” Uther said, his tone now faintly conciliatory. Merlin shook his head mutely; how was one supposed to react to a king being conciliatory? This hadn’t come up in any of his lessons. After a very brief pause, however, Uther took the onus of a response off him. “I must offer you my apologies for the behaviour of the physicians I assigned to you,” he said stiffly. Merlin glanced wide-eyed at Morgana, who offered him a tiny, helpless shrug. If her lessons hadn’t included how to deal with a conciliatory king, they had certainly not included how to accept an apology from him.
Uther evidently took his silence for reluctance to accept the apology. “Had I known they would be so - hostile, I would never have employed them,” he pressed, sounding just the slightest bit impatient.
“Um, thank you, your Majesty,” Merlin said, slowly, trying to remember what Morgana had told him about apologies. There was really very little to go on. “But it was hardly your fault.”
Uther looked at him sharply. “I employed them. Therefore, their actions are an extension of my own.”
“I’m grateful that you thought of me,” Merlin said, trying to keep his voice even; no mean feat when Uther was looking at him like that. All he really wanted to do was to run back to his and Arthur’s rooms and hide. “But you appointed them to care for me. Their actions outside those orders are theirs, not an extension of yours.” He looked down at his food, and waited for Uther’s response.
To his surprise, the King inclined his head. “Then, I thank you for your understanding. However,” Merlin looked up, and Uther’s eyes were considering once more, “should you find yourself in a position to be accepting an apology from anyone else - I would advise you simply to accept it.”
Merlin flushed to the roots of his hair, but Morgana was smiling, and even Arthur gave him a congratulatory nod when Uther wasn’t looking.
As servants took the soup plates away - Merlin couldn’t help thanking them, but Uther thankfully didn’t seem to notice - the King sat back. “Since it is clearly unwise to ask Gerontius or Hector to care for you, I have to wonder what we can do to ensure that your health is not neglected at this - delicate time.” Merlin’s flush returned, and Uther’s expression was still faintly sardonic.
“Merlin is Gaius’ ward,” Morgana spoke up for the first time. “Maybe it would be best for him to see to Merlin.”
“He is physician for the castle, he wouldn’t have the time,” Uther dismissed it, but Arthur shook his head.
“You have Hector and Gerontius here. As you say, they’re some of the finest in the land - appoint them as the castle physicians, make Gaius physician to the royal family only.” He shrugged. “It would be an excuse to increase his salary, give him more time to research, and allows him to tend only to Merlin without any trouble.” He paused. “As the kingdom grows more peaceful and prosperous, the court is growing, Father,” he added reasonably. “It’s too much to expect one physician, even one as capable as Gaius, to deal with everything. As physician to the royal family, he would still have authority over the others, but he won’t be quite so rushed. And he’s getting older, Father. None of us doubt that he’s eminently capable, but this way, he can spend the rest of his life working at what he loves without endangering himself.”
Uther was silent for a moment or two, then smiled, slowly. “A good point well made. Very well - I will do as you suggest. Now, about the infantry problem...”
Merlin heaved a sigh of relief as the attention moved away from him, and caught Morgana’s eye. She smiled, leant a little towards him, and started a light conversation about the plans for renovating the North wing of the palace.
**
An hour later, and all three of them in Arthur’s chambers, joined by Gwen who, though still rather silent around Arthur, had hugged Merlin on seeing him and whispered, “I knew it would be alright. I knew it.”
Merlin and Morgana sat at the table, while Arthur actually sat on it - looking, for once, remarkably undignified - and Gwen stood behind Morgana’s chair.
“That went well, I think,” Arthur said noncommittally. “Though you should just have accepted his apology and left it at that.”
“Nonsense,” Morgana said robustly. “Uther respects him far more now. He’s made himself a person in Uther’s eyes, rather than an expendable spouse. Not to mention, I’m sure Uther would have preferred Merlin to say that he was blameless, rather than just accept that Uther acted poorly.”
“All politics aside, I’m just glad he lived through that,” Merlin said, sinking back with a sigh.
Arthur reached out with one foot, and nudged his knee. “You didn’t do as badly as I expected,” he said a little awkwardly. “But this is just the beginning. When we’re - well, married, there’ll be much more.”
“Don’t be too encouraging, Arthur,” Morgana told him acidly. “You might strain something.”
“Would it be better if I lied?” Arthur asked hotly.
“No, but you could have waited a little while!”
“Better not to sugar-coat things, Morgana-”
Merlin and Gwen exchanged helpless looks. Gwen hit upon the best way to break up the impending argument. “My lady, I’m, er, sorry to interrupt, but you’re meeting with the women from the lower city in half an hour, you said you wished to prepare...”
Morgana managed to smile at her. “Of course. Merlin,” another smile. “Arthur.” None.
Arthur pushed himself off the table, watching them go with no very friendly expression. “That girl is the most infuriating person-” he gritted out.
“I can still hear you, Arthur!” she called back through the closing door.
“-I have ever met,” he finished, deliberately raising his voice, and Merlin stood, raising an eyebrow at him before he could get any further into his tirade.
“So, we’re going riding?”
“Meet me in the stables in fifteen minutes,” Arthur agreed, allowing himself to be moved away from the subject with a little reluctance. “I’ll have someone saddle horses for us.” Merlin moved towards the door between his chambers and Arthur’s. “And, Merlin?” He looked back to see Arthur give him one of his gentler, realer smiles. “You really did do well.”
**
For once, Merlin was earlier than Arthur, and the stables were still empty except for the stable-hands and grooms by the time he got there. He offered a couple of them he half-knew rather awkward smiles, but got nothing in response - only a handful of servants were still talking to him after his sudden change in status. It wasn’t something he dared mention to anyone - Morgana and Arthur were sympathetic, but they wouldn’t understand - but it still hurt a little.
“Hey, Merlin!” He turned, and was met by the less-than-friendly grin of an unfamiliar stable boy. “D’you think if I say I’m pregnant, I’ll get posh rooms and have to marry his royal arseness?”
Merlin glared at him. “You’d be lucky if Arthur even looked at you, let alone touched you. Bit of a tough sell, having his child without sleeping with him, don’t you think?”
“Hark at him!” The stable-hand laughed unpleasantly, glancing back at his watching friends. “‘Arthur’, is it now? ’Fore you get too above yourself, Merlin, don’t forget your precious Arthur fucked one peasant, no reason to say he won’t slum it with someone else - someone who isn’t stupid enough to get up the duff like you!”
“You’re an idiot.” Merlin dismissed him, refusing to rise to the bait, turning to the placid gelding he usually rode and trying to ignore the other boy’s continued taunting.
“You’re the one telling everyone you’re expecting, and I’m the idiot?” Some of the boy’s friends joined in the laughter this time. When Merlin didn’t reply, he went on, hoping for a reaction. “So, have you and darling Arthurcome up with baby names yet? What does Arthur think of having to marry a filthy peasant? Though, dear Arthur doesn’t have too much of a problem touching filthy peasants, so I suppose he’s alright with it, eh?”
“Look, it’s not like I asked for this, OK?” Merlin returned finally, frustrated. “This just happened to me, I didn’t want it, and it’s not like it’s a summer breeze!” Arthur, in the doorway, paused. “I got in the way of a curse, if you want to try that, be my guest, and see how you like it!”
The boy was about to reply when the frantic gestures of his friends caught his eye, and he saw the Prince in the doorway. He went a sickly pale, and nodded eagerly. “Um, of course, Merlin. I - yes.” He stumbled backwards towards the other stable-hands, all traces of his bravado gone.
Arthur’s voice was very smooth and cool. “Merlin, good to see you’re being - looked after.” He gave the little knot of stable-hands the tiniest of glances, but the ring-leader swallowed. He laid a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “With things this difficult for us all, loyalty and tact are always rewarded.”
After that, the grooms couldn’t have been more helpful.
**
They rode out of Camelot in silence, Arthur only speaking to adjust Merlin’s seat, or the way he held the reins. It was only when they were a good distance from the city that the Prince spoke up.
“You did well back there. Very... convincing.”
“I got angry,” Merlin confessed rather shamefacedly. Morgana had been very clear about how nobles should behave when harangued, and she had always said that not getting angry was key.
“It’s hard not to sometimes,” Arthur muttered. “And it will get easier, with practice.”
“I hope so.”
“Keep your hands down, Merlin, you’re not conducting minstrels with those reins,” Arthur said absently. “And it will. Morgana learned how to be the perfect member of the royal family, you will too.” He gave Merlin a long, considering look, before turning back to the path they were following. “What you said about the baby, though... did you mean it?”
“Did I mean what?”
“That you didn’t really want it?” Arthur refused to look at him, and Merlin nearly rode his horse into a tree while trying to catch his eye. “Look where you’re going, for heaven’s sake, Merlin.”
“Sorry. No, I didn’t. I mean...” he paused, framing his thoughts. “I didn’t want it - because I didn’t know it was possible. Now it’s happening, I think I’m glad. But - well, it scares me a bit.”
“In what way?”
“Well... us. As parents. I mean, how good are we really going to be? Your only example is the King, and, no offence, but he’s not exactly what you might call an ideal parent. And I never knew my father, so what sort of father will I make? This baby’s going to be a king or a queen, and I want to make sure they’ll be good.”
“Well, my father’s not perfect, as you said, and I like to think I’m not going to be a bad King.” Arthur was frowning a little.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Merlin said quickly. “It’s just - oh, I don’t know. I’m just worried that we’ll make mistakes and we won’t be the ones suffering for it.”
“We’ll have nursemaids and people to help us.” Arthur pointed out, but Merlin shook his head, emphatically.
“No. This is my baby, and I’m raising him or her myself.”
“It’s not practical, Merlin. As Prince Consort, you’re going to have other duties-”
“The most important of which will be the next heir to the throne!” Merlin relented very slightly. “I know we’ll probably need someone to look after them sometimes, but there are two of us, and if my mother managed to raise a son all by herself and keep us both fed and warm and clothed, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to manage it when I don’t have to worry about anything more arduous than turning up at a couple of banquets every now and then.”
Arthur’s frown darkened, but more thoughtfully than angrily. “Hasn’t Morgana explained what the duties of my Queen - or Prince Consort, I suppose - will be?”
Merlin felt a little trickle of dread go down his spine. “No? I thought - well, having children was the most important bit?”
“Oh! Well, I suppose it is, but... that’s not everything. As King, I’ll deal with the matters of state, but there’s more to running a country than that. Any major decisions will be mine - and since everyone thought my Queen would be a foreign princess who couldn’t be trusted much, you probably won’t have much to do with those. But you’ll often be required to carry out and support my decisions. You already know that Morgana deals with doling out alms to the poor of Camelot - as my, um, wife,” Merlin winced, “You’ll take over that. With her help, I’m sure! You deal with the domestic side of the castle, making sure that it runs smoothly. You organise the feasts and celebrations, you deal with the day-to-day running of Camelot.” He smiled a little grimly. “It’s not all sitting around and brushing your hair.”
Merlin was silent for a long moment. “What if I disagree with you over something? You always said that you didn’t want your consort to think too much.”
Arthur looked rather awkward again. “Yes, well... I know you. You’ll think whether I let you or not.”
“Your Highness is too kind,” Merlin simpered.
“Shut up. And you’d probably explode unless you said something, but - I think the most important lesson you need to learn is when to speak and when to shut up. It will be hard for you, I know- Merlin, keep your knees in, would you? I can see all the way to Ealdor in the gap between your legs and your saddle!”
“I’m trying, all right? There’s a lot to remember!”
“Evidently,” Arthur grinned, and Merlin rode his horse into him.
By common, unspoken consensus, they steered clear of their earlier, more serious discussion and talked idly about nothing until they reached a small clearing, where Arthur reigned his horse in. “Right. The basics,” he said firmly. “Mounting and dismounting.”
“I already know how to mount and dismount!”
“Yes, and you do it will all the skill and elegance of a sack of potatoes. Now, to dismount, you slide both feet out of your stirrups...”
Arthur kept Merlin practising until the other boy complained of nausea, when he promptly started scolding him for not saying something sooner. “You’ve got to say when things start getting too much for you, Merlin.” He said, firmly. “You’re one of the most important people in Camelot while you’re carrying that thing.”
“‘That thing’?!” Merlin parroted incredulously. “Charming!”
“You know what I mean!” Arthur said crossly.
Merlin settled himself comfortably down against a tree, while Arthur attached the lead-ropes to the horses’ bridles, and tethered them. “This is the first time we’ve been properly alone for nearly two weeks,” he said slowly, watching Arthur lazily.
Arthur shook his head. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me, we were alone just last night, idiot.”
“And we slept. Fascinating,” Merlin grinned at him. “We could have done much more interesting things.”
“I thought you were feeling nauseous?” Arthur asked suspiciously.
“I didn’t feel too good about getting back up onto that horse just yet, no.” Merlin’s grin widened. “And I think I’ve got the hang of mounting and dismounting now.”
“I’m never going to trust you ag-oof.” Merlin pulled Arthur down against the tree, and sat himself firmly in his lap. “Merlin, what are you-” A kiss shut him up, and it only took him a couple of seconds to adjust to this new turn of events. Snaking one hand up into his lover’s hair, and wrapping the other round his waist, he pulled Merlin even closer to him.
When they finally broke the kiss, Arthur rested his head against Merlin’s still-too-bony shoulder, and took a deep breath. “You know, Merlin,” he said very quietly. “Sometimes, I think I might love you.”
**
Part Eight
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mpreg as a major plotpoint, unabashed fluff, and a little - a very little - swearing. Also, ZOMG, Arthur and Merlin actually manage to kiss this chapter. I am confused as to how this baby occurred when the two of them are so very chaste. They just WILL NOT behave and get it on like they should.
Summary: Uther warns Arthur about his dalliance with his servant, and reminds him that Camelot will need an heir. Well, it looks like that's not a problem any more...
AN: A big shout-out to this fic's family. ^_^ Also, to acetamide who looked it over for me when I was insecure about it. It's longer this time to make up for the short short chapter last time...but the funny is officially dead, and it's becoming much more detailed than I intended. So long as it doesn't dissolve into an emo angst-fest, though, I think I'm OK? And there will be humour returning later, I hope.
Feedback is adored!
**
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six
**
Merlin grabbed his arm before he got too far away. “Thank you.” he said, eyes wide and honest. “I’d kiss you, but I don’t think I’d taste very nice right now.”
Arthur pulled a face. “Yes. Your breakfast looked revolting enough the first time I saw it, I doubt time has improved it.”
“Hey! I like porridge!” Merlin said, defensively. “When Gaius hasn’t made it, anyway.”
Arthur shuddered in sympathy. “If Gaius’ food tastes anything like his medicine, you have my deepest sympathy,” he said, sincerely.
Merlin grinned, that huge, ridiculous grin of his which had been appearing less often lately, and Arthur couldn’t quite stop himself from grinning back. Maybe this whole thing would work out OK. At least being married to Merlin was better than being married to any of the girls who’d been paraded around in front of him since he was old enough to know that girls were different from boys and weren’t, in fact, the carriers of some obscure plague.
At least marriage to Merlin would be fun. At least he had a hope in hell of still enjoying Merlin’s company in twenty years time.
And if he was fairly certain he loved Merlin that was nobody’s business but his own. Right?
**
Morgana swept into Merlin’s chambers just as Arthur was leaving them, giving him the barest nod of greeting as he made good his escape.
“This,” she said icily to Merlin, “is a disgrace.”
Merlin winced. “I know I’m not exactly a shining tribute to your teaching,” he said carefully, “But I should survive lunch, shouldn’t I?”
She favoured him with a pitying look, but he noticed to his relief that Gwen looked just as confused as him. “This isn’t about you, Merlin, it’s about Uther and his little power games,” she explained. “If he can get to you now, before you’re really ready, he can hold it over you forever. You’ll always be the incompetent peasant Arthur was tricked into marrying.”
“To be honest, Morgana,” he said slowly, “I’m pretty sure I’ll always be that, even if I carry this off perfectly.”
“But by doing it this way, he sets himself up as so superior,” she argued. “All his snide little comments-”
“I’ll just have to ignore them, then,” Merlin said quickly. Really, he’d been hoping for some practical advice, and Morgana was just making him feel even worse.
“It’s not fair,” she burst out. “Anyone with half an eye can see that you’re good for Arthur, and - Gods, Uther springing this on you is not fair.”
“I’m sure you’ve realised by now that life never is,” he replied, more gently than he’d ever dared speak to her before. Neither Morgana nor Arthur were people who particularly inspired gentleness.
For a moment, the two of them exchanged a long, silent look. Finally Gwen broke the silence, saying very softly, “what does Merlin most need to know, my lady?”
Morgana shook herself. “Yes,” she paused briefly to collect her thoughts. “Both Arthur and I will be there, so we can distract the King if he gets too - antagonistic.” Her mouth tightened a little, but she continued without pause. “It’s just lunch, so the food won’t be anything elaborate - soup, meat course, light sweet. Remember to start from the outside in with the cutlery, and don’t, whatever you do, slurp the soup,” Merlin risked a smile, but her only response was a twitch of the lips, “Uther hates it. I know that makes it tempting, but resist, for Arthur’s sake.”
“Oh, well, if it’s for Arthur-”
“Merlin.” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he subsided. “Apart from that - sit up straight, look duly respectful and let one of us field any really difficult questions for the moment. Just be as polite as possible. And... don’t tell any of your jokes.”
“No jokes. Right. Got it,” he nodded vigorously, and Morgana gave him an anxious look.
“I know this isn’t ideal, and you probably don’t feel ready, but the practice is no bad thing. It would be better if it wasn’t in front of a biased judge, but... we’ll help you, and you should pull it off.”
“I hope so,” he could tell his worry was showing on his face, but he managed to return Morgana’s smile when she offered him one. “Thank you for all your help.”
“I won’t let Uther ruin anything else for Arthur, especially not this,” she said fiercely, then softened. “He would hate to see something go wrong for you. Now, sit at the table and show me how you deal with servants giving you your food. Gwen, if you wouldn’t mind...”
**
Half an hour later saw Merlin and Arthur entering the smaller, private dining room the royal family used when there were no other guests joining them for the meal. Uther and Morgana were already waiting for them, though they hadn’t yet taken their seats - they weren’t late, despite Merlin’s terror that they were going to be.
Merlin was doing his best to quell his ever-growing nerves, and in an uncharacteristically sensitive move, Arthur’s hand was low on his back, warm and reassuring. Somehow, that made it a little easier to meet Uther’s cool, assessing grey eyes.
The King greeted them with a strained smile. “Arthur... Merlin. I’m glad you could join us. I trust you’ve had a pleasant morning?” The question as addressed to Merlin and, just too late, the King seemed to remember his bout of morning sickness. His expression became slightly fixed.
Merlin only just managed not to stare. This was not the Uther Morgana had given him to expect. “Um, yes, thank you, your Majesty,” he managed a little awkwardly. “I hope your morning has been, um-” he fished, desperately, for something to say. ‘Equally pleasant’ would probably be taken as an insult, and everything else he could think of just sounded patronising. “Successful,” he settled on rather pathetically.
Morgana gave him a tiny smile, and Arthur’s hand relaxed a little from the claw it had formed when Uther started speaking, the fingers which had been digging uncomfortably into Merlin’s lower back relaxing into a more comfortable pressure.
Arthur guided him a little closer to the table, and he allowed himself a quick, reserved smile at Morgana, before Uther was speaking again. “Do you have any plans for the afternoon, Arthur?” he asked, indicating that they should sit. It probably touched Merlin more than it should have done that Arthur apparently instinctively pulled out his chair for him. It buoyed him up to know that there were at least two people in the room who didn’t treat him, or expect him to act, like an ill-mannered peasant.
Arthur paused. “Well, I’ve completed all the reports you wanted me to read, and I’ve written up my suggestions for the problem you’ve been having with infantry recruitment.” Merlin glanced at him, a little surprised, since for once Arthur hadn’t mentioned anything to him, “Since the majority of the knights have patrol shifts today, rather than training, I thought Merlin and I might go for a ride.”
Uther nodded, looking more than a little awkward. “Do you - ride often, Merlin?” he asked politely.
Merlin hastily swallowed the mouthful of soup he’d just taken, and burnt his throat; fighting back coughs, he realised just how unfortunate the King’s question had sounded, and coughed even harder. Finally, utterly embarrassed, he managed a nod. “More since I started working for,” how was he supposed to talk about Arthur in front of the King? “Arthur, your Majesty.”
Thankfully, Uther didn’t seem thrown by the familiar name, simply nodding. “Well, you must of course be careful.” His tone was just a little too dry. “If anything happened to the heir-”
“I would never do anything to hurt - um, the heir,” Merlin said quickly, intending to assure the King of his sincerity. However, Uther’s lips twisted wryly.
“No,” he agreed, more dryly still. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
Arthur cleared his throat warningly, and Merlin, who had looked down at his bowl, only caught the tail end of the long glance the two of them exchanged.
“I hadn’t checked my plans with Merlin, so they’re not definite,” Arthur said quietly. “He may have commitments of his own.”
“Nothing too arduous, I hope,” Uther said, his tone now faintly conciliatory. Merlin shook his head mutely; how was one supposed to react to a king being conciliatory? This hadn’t come up in any of his lessons. After a very brief pause, however, Uther took the onus of a response off him. “I must offer you my apologies for the behaviour of the physicians I assigned to you,” he said stiffly. Merlin glanced wide-eyed at Morgana, who offered him a tiny, helpless shrug. If her lessons hadn’t included how to deal with a conciliatory king, they had certainly not included how to accept an apology from him.
Uther evidently took his silence for reluctance to accept the apology. “Had I known they would be so - hostile, I would never have employed them,” he pressed, sounding just the slightest bit impatient.
“Um, thank you, your Majesty,” Merlin said, slowly, trying to remember what Morgana had told him about apologies. There was really very little to go on. “But it was hardly your fault.”
Uther looked at him sharply. “I employed them. Therefore, their actions are an extension of my own.”
“I’m grateful that you thought of me,” Merlin said, trying to keep his voice even; no mean feat when Uther was looking at him like that. All he really wanted to do was to run back to his and Arthur’s rooms and hide. “But you appointed them to care for me. Their actions outside those orders are theirs, not an extension of yours.” He looked down at his food, and waited for Uther’s response.
To his surprise, the King inclined his head. “Then, I thank you for your understanding. However,” Merlin looked up, and Uther’s eyes were considering once more, “should you find yourself in a position to be accepting an apology from anyone else - I would advise you simply to accept it.”
Merlin flushed to the roots of his hair, but Morgana was smiling, and even Arthur gave him a congratulatory nod when Uther wasn’t looking.
As servants took the soup plates away - Merlin couldn’t help thanking them, but Uther thankfully didn’t seem to notice - the King sat back. “Since it is clearly unwise to ask Gerontius or Hector to care for you, I have to wonder what we can do to ensure that your health is not neglected at this - delicate time.” Merlin’s flush returned, and Uther’s expression was still faintly sardonic.
“Merlin is Gaius’ ward,” Morgana spoke up for the first time. “Maybe it would be best for him to see to Merlin.”
“He is physician for the castle, he wouldn’t have the time,” Uther dismissed it, but Arthur shook his head.
“You have Hector and Gerontius here. As you say, they’re some of the finest in the land - appoint them as the castle physicians, make Gaius physician to the royal family only.” He shrugged. “It would be an excuse to increase his salary, give him more time to research, and allows him to tend only to Merlin without any trouble.” He paused. “As the kingdom grows more peaceful and prosperous, the court is growing, Father,” he added reasonably. “It’s too much to expect one physician, even one as capable as Gaius, to deal with everything. As physician to the royal family, he would still have authority over the others, but he won’t be quite so rushed. And he’s getting older, Father. None of us doubt that he’s eminently capable, but this way, he can spend the rest of his life working at what he loves without endangering himself.”
Uther was silent for a moment or two, then smiled, slowly. “A good point well made. Very well - I will do as you suggest. Now, about the infantry problem...”
Merlin heaved a sigh of relief as the attention moved away from him, and caught Morgana’s eye. She smiled, leant a little towards him, and started a light conversation about the plans for renovating the North wing of the palace.
**
An hour later, and all three of them in Arthur’s chambers, joined by Gwen who, though still rather silent around Arthur, had hugged Merlin on seeing him and whispered, “I knew it would be alright. I knew it.”
Merlin and Morgana sat at the table, while Arthur actually sat on it - looking, for once, remarkably undignified - and Gwen stood behind Morgana’s chair.
“That went well, I think,” Arthur said noncommittally. “Though you should just have accepted his apology and left it at that.”
“Nonsense,” Morgana said robustly. “Uther respects him far more now. He’s made himself a person in Uther’s eyes, rather than an expendable spouse. Not to mention, I’m sure Uther would have preferred Merlin to say that he was blameless, rather than just accept that Uther acted poorly.”
“All politics aside, I’m just glad he lived through that,” Merlin said, sinking back with a sigh.
Arthur reached out with one foot, and nudged his knee. “You didn’t do as badly as I expected,” he said a little awkwardly. “But this is just the beginning. When we’re - well, married, there’ll be much more.”
“Don’t be too encouraging, Arthur,” Morgana told him acidly. “You might strain something.”
“Would it be better if I lied?” Arthur asked hotly.
“No, but you could have waited a little while!”
“Better not to sugar-coat things, Morgana-”
Merlin and Gwen exchanged helpless looks. Gwen hit upon the best way to break up the impending argument. “My lady, I’m, er, sorry to interrupt, but you’re meeting with the women from the lower city in half an hour, you said you wished to prepare...”
Morgana managed to smile at her. “Of course. Merlin,” another smile. “Arthur.” None.
Arthur pushed himself off the table, watching them go with no very friendly expression. “That girl is the most infuriating person-” he gritted out.
“I can still hear you, Arthur!” she called back through the closing door.
“-I have ever met,” he finished, deliberately raising his voice, and Merlin stood, raising an eyebrow at him before he could get any further into his tirade.
“So, we’re going riding?”
“Meet me in the stables in fifteen minutes,” Arthur agreed, allowing himself to be moved away from the subject with a little reluctance. “I’ll have someone saddle horses for us.” Merlin moved towards the door between his chambers and Arthur’s. “And, Merlin?” He looked back to see Arthur give him one of his gentler, realer smiles. “You really did do well.”
**
For once, Merlin was earlier than Arthur, and the stables were still empty except for the stable-hands and grooms by the time he got there. He offered a couple of them he half-knew rather awkward smiles, but got nothing in response - only a handful of servants were still talking to him after his sudden change in status. It wasn’t something he dared mention to anyone - Morgana and Arthur were sympathetic, but they wouldn’t understand - but it still hurt a little.
“Hey, Merlin!” He turned, and was met by the less-than-friendly grin of an unfamiliar stable boy. “D’you think if I say I’m pregnant, I’ll get posh rooms and have to marry his royal arseness?”
Merlin glared at him. “You’d be lucky if Arthur even looked at you, let alone touched you. Bit of a tough sell, having his child without sleeping with him, don’t you think?”
“Hark at him!” The stable-hand laughed unpleasantly, glancing back at his watching friends. “‘Arthur’, is it now? ’Fore you get too above yourself, Merlin, don’t forget your precious Arthur fucked one peasant, no reason to say he won’t slum it with someone else - someone who isn’t stupid enough to get up the duff like you!”
“You’re an idiot.” Merlin dismissed him, refusing to rise to the bait, turning to the placid gelding he usually rode and trying to ignore the other boy’s continued taunting.
“You’re the one telling everyone you’re expecting, and I’m the idiot?” Some of the boy’s friends joined in the laughter this time. When Merlin didn’t reply, he went on, hoping for a reaction. “So, have you and darling Arthurcome up with baby names yet? What does Arthur think of having to marry a filthy peasant? Though, dear Arthur doesn’t have too much of a problem touching filthy peasants, so I suppose he’s alright with it, eh?”
“Look, it’s not like I asked for this, OK?” Merlin returned finally, frustrated. “This just happened to me, I didn’t want it, and it’s not like it’s a summer breeze!” Arthur, in the doorway, paused. “I got in the way of a curse, if you want to try that, be my guest, and see how you like it!”
The boy was about to reply when the frantic gestures of his friends caught his eye, and he saw the Prince in the doorway. He went a sickly pale, and nodded eagerly. “Um, of course, Merlin. I - yes.” He stumbled backwards towards the other stable-hands, all traces of his bravado gone.
Arthur’s voice was very smooth and cool. “Merlin, good to see you’re being - looked after.” He gave the little knot of stable-hands the tiniest of glances, but the ring-leader swallowed. He laid a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “With things this difficult for us all, loyalty and tact are always rewarded.”
After that, the grooms couldn’t have been more helpful.
**
They rode out of Camelot in silence, Arthur only speaking to adjust Merlin’s seat, or the way he held the reins. It was only when they were a good distance from the city that the Prince spoke up.
“You did well back there. Very... convincing.”
“I got angry,” Merlin confessed rather shamefacedly. Morgana had been very clear about how nobles should behave when harangued, and she had always said that not getting angry was key.
“It’s hard not to sometimes,” Arthur muttered. “And it will get easier, with practice.”
“I hope so.”
“Keep your hands down, Merlin, you’re not conducting minstrels with those reins,” Arthur said absently. “And it will. Morgana learned how to be the perfect member of the royal family, you will too.” He gave Merlin a long, considering look, before turning back to the path they were following. “What you said about the baby, though... did you mean it?”
“Did I mean what?”
“That you didn’t really want it?” Arthur refused to look at him, and Merlin nearly rode his horse into a tree while trying to catch his eye. “Look where you’re going, for heaven’s sake, Merlin.”
“Sorry. No, I didn’t. I mean...” he paused, framing his thoughts. “I didn’t want it - because I didn’t know it was possible. Now it’s happening, I think I’m glad. But - well, it scares me a bit.”
“In what way?”
“Well... us. As parents. I mean, how good are we really going to be? Your only example is the King, and, no offence, but he’s not exactly what you might call an ideal parent. And I never knew my father, so what sort of father will I make? This baby’s going to be a king or a queen, and I want to make sure they’ll be good.”
“Well, my father’s not perfect, as you said, and I like to think I’m not going to be a bad King.” Arthur was frowning a little.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Merlin said quickly. “It’s just - oh, I don’t know. I’m just worried that we’ll make mistakes and we won’t be the ones suffering for it.”
“We’ll have nursemaids and people to help us.” Arthur pointed out, but Merlin shook his head, emphatically.
“No. This is my baby, and I’m raising him or her myself.”
“It’s not practical, Merlin. As Prince Consort, you’re going to have other duties-”
“The most important of which will be the next heir to the throne!” Merlin relented very slightly. “I know we’ll probably need someone to look after them sometimes, but there are two of us, and if my mother managed to raise a son all by herself and keep us both fed and warm and clothed, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to manage it when I don’t have to worry about anything more arduous than turning up at a couple of banquets every now and then.”
Arthur’s frown darkened, but more thoughtfully than angrily. “Hasn’t Morgana explained what the duties of my Queen - or Prince Consort, I suppose - will be?”
Merlin felt a little trickle of dread go down his spine. “No? I thought - well, having children was the most important bit?”
“Oh! Well, I suppose it is, but... that’s not everything. As King, I’ll deal with the matters of state, but there’s more to running a country than that. Any major decisions will be mine - and since everyone thought my Queen would be a foreign princess who couldn’t be trusted much, you probably won’t have much to do with those. But you’ll often be required to carry out and support my decisions. You already know that Morgana deals with doling out alms to the poor of Camelot - as my, um, wife,” Merlin winced, “You’ll take over that. With her help, I’m sure! You deal with the domestic side of the castle, making sure that it runs smoothly. You organise the feasts and celebrations, you deal with the day-to-day running of Camelot.” He smiled a little grimly. “It’s not all sitting around and brushing your hair.”
Merlin was silent for a long moment. “What if I disagree with you over something? You always said that you didn’t want your consort to think too much.”
Arthur looked rather awkward again. “Yes, well... I know you. You’ll think whether I let you or not.”
“Your Highness is too kind,” Merlin simpered.
“Shut up. And you’d probably explode unless you said something, but - I think the most important lesson you need to learn is when to speak and when to shut up. It will be hard for you, I know- Merlin, keep your knees in, would you? I can see all the way to Ealdor in the gap between your legs and your saddle!”
“I’m trying, all right? There’s a lot to remember!”
“Evidently,” Arthur grinned, and Merlin rode his horse into him.
By common, unspoken consensus, they steered clear of their earlier, more serious discussion and talked idly about nothing until they reached a small clearing, where Arthur reigned his horse in. “Right. The basics,” he said firmly. “Mounting and dismounting.”
“I already know how to mount and dismount!”
“Yes, and you do it will all the skill and elegance of a sack of potatoes. Now, to dismount, you slide both feet out of your stirrups...”
Arthur kept Merlin practising until the other boy complained of nausea, when he promptly started scolding him for not saying something sooner. “You’ve got to say when things start getting too much for you, Merlin.” He said, firmly. “You’re one of the most important people in Camelot while you’re carrying that thing.”
“‘That thing’?!” Merlin parroted incredulously. “Charming!”
“You know what I mean!” Arthur said crossly.
Merlin settled himself comfortably down against a tree, while Arthur attached the lead-ropes to the horses’ bridles, and tethered them. “This is the first time we’ve been properly alone for nearly two weeks,” he said slowly, watching Arthur lazily.
Arthur shook his head. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me, we were alone just last night, idiot.”
“And we slept. Fascinating,” Merlin grinned at him. “We could have done much more interesting things.”
“I thought you were feeling nauseous?” Arthur asked suspiciously.
“I didn’t feel too good about getting back up onto that horse just yet, no.” Merlin’s grin widened. “And I think I’ve got the hang of mounting and dismounting now.”
“I’m never going to trust you ag-oof.” Merlin pulled Arthur down against the tree, and sat himself firmly in his lap. “Merlin, what are you-” A kiss shut him up, and it only took him a couple of seconds to adjust to this new turn of events. Snaking one hand up into his lover’s hair, and wrapping the other round his waist, he pulled Merlin even closer to him.
When they finally broke the kiss, Arthur rested his head against Merlin’s still-too-bony shoulder, and took a deep breath. “You know, Merlin,” he said very quietly. “Sometimes, I think I might love you.”
**
Part Eight