fanfic challenge #3
Title: Bed-time Stories
Author: shutupeccles
Rating: pg 13
Words: 2384
Warnings: non-explicit intimacy and an explanation of why ‘the slash writes itself’
Disclaimer: characters filched and adapted from current BBC reproduction of characters from Arthurian legend.
Beta:
Author's Notes (A/N): Written for merlinxarthur's fanfic challenge #3 from the picture prompts below. According to some versions of the legend Guinevere bore Arthur 3 daughters and no sons. This is my version of Arthur and Merlin’s reactions to the birth of the first girl and the effect on their relationship. Myfanwy is a Welsh name meaning: my fine one.
King Arthur sat by the cradle in which his five month old daughter Princess Myfanwy happily babbled her continued refusal to go to sleep at the prescribed hour. This supposed to be quiet period was the only time he could enjoy his child’s presence without interference from nursemaids, political crises or her doubly possessive mother. He soon surrendered to his daughter’s demands in blatant defiance of all adult feminine instruction and lifted the child out of the cradle Merlin had crafted months before her birth.
“So, definitely a girl?” Arthur asked with a steady voice, one hand caressing the beautifully detailed wood as he examined the gift. His tremulous fingers belied the ache in his heart.
Merlin nodded silently, sorrow masked effectively - except in his eyes. His place in the King’s bed would remain the Queen’s until they produced the necessary male heir...
Enthroned upon her father’s lap, her still clumsy hand pummelled the book he was trying to open as she exclaimed “Fah! Fah!”
“Hush now my Moppet or Father shan’t read to you.”
“FAH!” she declared imperiously, pulling the book forward and gumming on one leather-bound corner. He could not resist kissing her curled, dark-honey gold hair as he wrested it from her determined grip and unfastened it. The book fell open at an illustrated page towards the end and her hand immediately slapped down on it.
“Not that story, no. That one’s not for you.” He turned her away slightly with one arm and flipped several pages over at once feeling a tad embarrassed and equally ridiculous. She could barely recognise a face let alone... “Let’s find a more child-friendly adventure...oops, not this one. Nearer the beginning...”
Brown eyes, so like his wife’s looked up at him impatiently. He no longer sighed mournfully that they were not blue, not now she was developing an individual personality and used those gravy-drops to sparkle at him adoringly.
“Patience Miss Moppet,” he reprimanded gently with a kiss to her upturned face which she returned with a gummy bite on his chin and a deliberate ‘wuah’ sound. “Here we go: the Ealdor adventure. You’ll like this one.”
He had no real need to read from the book to recount the history of three young friends journeying to Ealdor for the love of a fourth but he enjoyed the feel of the pages, seeing the events recorded by Merlin’s flowing strokes of quill and brush. Even without magic his writing bordered on art, making the precise letters formed by the king appear little more than illiterate scrawl. Any jealousy Arthur harboured over Merlin’s talents had been neatly obliterated with the first smile bestowed by the infant now struggling to sit upright without her father’s assistance. In that moment she had claimed him for her own and he no longer mourned the son and heir she ‘should have been’. So in thrall of her flailing arms, gurgling chortles and fascinated gaze as he altered his voice for each character and gestured wildly during every action scene, Arthur for once failed to notice the figure separating itself from the shadows.
“...and as the mage-wind subsided Father shouted at ...”
“Mer’n.”
“Yes, well it’s unfortunate you picked up on that so quickly but Father did tend to shout at Merlin rather a lot...”
“Mer’n,” she tried to clap and almost succeeded as her wrists collided eagerly. Arthur was about to comment that while shouting at Merlin had often been enjoyable it certainly was not worthy of applause when he realised the man in question held her full attention.
“And you wonder why she doesn’t settle at night!” There was a sliver in the playfully delivered remark that embedded itself deep in Arthur’s heart. “No surprise Gwen forbade you from the nursery once the true love of your life is put to bed.”
Arthur allowed warm drool to slide down his thumb as the babe suddenly decided to use it as a teething rusk. His lined eyes tightened minutely, as did his protective embrace.
“Please don’t ruin this for us Merlin. Guinevere barely lets me near my child - and she is my child. Do you have any idea what that means to me? I know this was our time before she was born Merlin, your time but I will not be an absent parent. I thought you of all people would understand why I wish to spare her that.”
“I do, that isn’t what...” He’d been watching for almost half the tale, heart swollen by their joyous interactions with something incomprehensible that went beyond petty jealousy and regret.
The thought hung between them, solemn and heavier than lead: There are some things even magic can’t achieve.
“Moppet will grow up knowing I love you Merlin, though she must remain unaware of the way we expressed our love in the past or that my devotion to you is equal only to what I feel for her. If my daughter is to be Queen she cannot be tainted by my shame.”
“You are ashamed of our history?” Merlin’s eyes followed Arthur’s hand as it moved to grasp the book still balanced on his knee and regretted the accusation immediately. He knew precisely which tales they had woven together between those pages.
“No Merlin. I am ashamed that I cannot love you openly as you deserve, that her birth is a lie just as mine was. The majority will negate her right to rule based on gender alone without these other considerations. I will not allow a child of mine to believe she is merely a pawn fashioned to strengthen my reign, despite the lies spun to protect her.”
“You intend to name a girl as heir? Unheard of!”
“Almost unheard of, I have discovered rare but well documented historical accounts among various nations. Will you support my decision and her claim before the court?”
“It will lead to no less than war Arthur. Why would you consider such a thing?”
Arthur’s eyes held his with unwavering gaze.
“You know why,” Albion’s king answered softly.
The disputed infant in his arm turned away from studying her father’s face and attempted to clap again.
“MER’N!”
“It appears even my daughter knows why.”
“Arthur, no...” Merlin realised he had been mistaken in coming here when he felt the touch of Arthur’s hands on the covers of their book burning into his skin but after resisting so many times it had become unbearable. He was supposed to make Arthur and Albion strong, not weaken them both by loving the man as he did.
The king stood with regal determination inches in front of his court advisor, yet with child balanced neatly on one hip as he had seen peasant women do.
“Can you feel the palisade of pain between us? What if Gwen and I produce seven children and still no son? How many times can we force ourselves to turn away from the ones we love, distancing ourselves further from true companionship for the good of people who would turn against all of us the moment they knew the truth? I cannot hurt you thus again. I did not travel to Ealdor years ago to ensure your safe return to Camelot only to have you stand less than a foot in front of me and completely beyond my reach. I will not live without you Merlin because I cannot.”
As unexpected as the kiss was, Merlin did not resist. Arthur revealed his heart through silent lips and Merlin accepted the communication gratefully until the little princess made the slobbery ‘wuah’ sound against her fist, causing the men to break apart with a reluctantly amused chuckle. Arthur curved his free arm behind Merlin’s back and drew him close. Myfanwy threw herself forward with a chortle and clutched at the former manservant’s shirt. They juggled to keep her upright but she would not allow herself to be returned solely to her father’s embrace.
“She’s not letting go until you hold her Merlin, trust me. She’s as stubborn as her grandfather.”
Merlin hesitantly took the child in his arms. It was the first time he held her since laying a benediction upon her in the language of the Old Religion hours after her birth. She was heavier than he expected.
“Mer’n,” she said in satisfaction then continued to babble cheerily as she had to her father from her cradle.
Merlin found himself replying with “Oh really? ...How fascinating...That sounds typical of your father.”
‘Mahm’, ‘Fah’, ‘Mer’n’ and ‘Mop’ were the closest to words she could manage and they were sprinkled liberally throughout her gabbling conversation.
“Mop?” Merlin asked as she yawned. Silly visions of a bed-time story featuring King Arthur pretending to be the once and future Queen mopping castle floors refused to leave his head.
“That’s my little princess, Miss Moppet.”
“And you called me a girl.” Merlin laughed, Arthur looked embarrassed and Miss Moppet, Princess of Albion practically dove out of Merlin’s arms and into her father’s, vigorously rubbing her forehead against his chest.
“Someone’s finally ready for sleep. Will you stay while I put her to bed?”
Merlin nodded then noticed something Arthur hadn’t.
“I think you had better change her cloth first.”
“What?” Damp warmth pressed Arthur’s shirt against his skin. The expression aimed at his daughter proved he was not impressed. Myfanwy smiled at him. “I swear she does this on purpose.”
Merlin watched, more accurately laughed at Arthur’s inexpert efforts to undress and redress the now grizzling princess, and was rewarded with an armload of cranky infant while Arthur removed his wet shirt and cleaned himself up.
Merlin had not been alone with Arthur for anything other than state business since the last weeks of Gwen’s pregnancy and seeing him in such a state of undress was arousing thoughts and other things entirely inappropriate for a nursery chamber. His face must have given him away because when Arthur reclaimed possession of the royal daughter his blue eyes locked onto Merlin’s with the silent request ‘please stay’. Merlin nodded imperceptibly, then once more to ensure Arthur knew that he understood. He watched with the same mingled jealousy and amusement that accompanied the earlier story-time as Myfanwy burrowed her honeyed head into the curve of Arthur’s neck, one arm flung around the other side, patting her hand against his bare shoulder to the same rhythm he patted her swaddled behind as he murmured a nonsense rhyme to her. As she began to doze off, she gently sucked in her bottom lip in an inverted pout. It became easier for Merlin to identify similarities to Arthur’s features in her face as it relaxed and he reached out a finger to softly touch each of them in turn. Arthur silently watched him, cherishing such an impossibly perfect moment before leaning over the sleeping head to gently kiss Merlin.
“I love you,” he whispered, kissing him again with obvious intent.
When the child did not stir the king eased her into the cradle and set it swaying carefully before taking Merlin’s hand and leading him into the next room. Gwen was currently unwell and isolated except for when their daughter was hungry to keep exposure to any illness at a minimum and her husband had no qualms about bringing his preference into the marital chamber. He had Merlin’s shirt over his head and onto the floor before closing the adjoining door behind them; his hands traversing smooth, bare skin along favoured paths almost forgotten; his mouth pressing against ear, jaw, chin and throat as Merlin verbally revelled in the feel of Arthur against him.
The back of Merlin’s thighs bumped against the king’s bed and Arthur began sinking slowly to his knees, hands moving over and within Merlin’s lower clothing, mouth lingering on the nipple closest to Merlin’s heart so he could feel his lover’s pulse through his lips and the tip of his tongue. Merlin tilted his head back and exclaimed Arthur’s name in a reverent breath, reiterated as a prayer of grateful adoration rather than a declaration of empty lust. They moved as one, fluidly, without rushing until Arthur sat directly on the bed with Merlin wonderfully naked and straddling his lap.
“You belong here Merlin, with me. Always...”
In the royal nursery the book apparently forgotten on the chair radiated an unknown colour as the greatest and most mysterious power of all opened it and flipped through the pages to the very end. The words ‘the end’ suddenly vanished and the last page was immediately filled with words, then another text-filled page appeared and another with an occasional colour illustration in between. Every detail of their lovemaking was inscribed onto pages seemingly conjured from nowhere, adding to the history already recorded therein. The first third of the tome recounted the adventures of two young men who could have easily been enemies only to become friends instead, ending with Merlin finally revealing his magic to Arthur. This was all the original gift from Merlin to Arthur contained. He was as surprised as the recipient to discover the enchantments embedded within the book to protect it caused it to document “ALL our adventures” as Arthur pointed out after finding a more intimate description preceding yet another gruesome struggle against an army of magically animated corpses. “I know which story I prefer,” Arthur stated and within minutes another tale of similar erotic themes had begun.
The rapid rustle of paper and coruscating light caused Myfanwy to fuss loudly - everything paused as Arthur and Merlin waited, praying to every deity they’d heard of to ward off an interruption that could not be ignored even though the nursemaid hired specifically for night duties would tend to the princess. When all remained still, the new story continued slowly this time, steady and prolonged in contrast to the rampant beginning; and concluding with Merlin’s promise: I will never stop loving you.
As the reunited lovers prepared for sleep the book closed itself with a satisfied sigh and the leather strap reached up to bind the covers together in the same way the lovers’ limbs curved, fastening each to the other and holding the most important memories secure.
The ethereal glow left the book, the magic within content to remain dormant for now, assured in the knowledge of many more chapters to come.