First Fic Post
Title: Magic, Marriage and Mayhem, 1/?
Rating: PG-13 for this part (a little bad language). Will be NC-17 later.
Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for 'The Poisoned Chalice', and mpreg as a major plot-point. Please avoid if this squicks you! Some humour, the grounds for future angst (I can't help myself), and potential squickiness.
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: Hi! I've popped up here and there in this lovely new shiny fandom, but never posted anything - and I'm a little sad that the first thing I'm posting here is an mpreg, when that squicks so many people. Multi-chapter mpreg, no less... But fear not, I have a huge cage full of all my Merlin plotbunnies.
...um, actually, yes, do fear. It'll be much safer in the long run. *blushes and scurries off* Oh, before I have tried to lj-cut this, but the lj-cut is not always my friend, and it may not have worked. I'll edit if not.
**
Long association had taught Arthur to be just the slightest bit wary whenever his father asked to see him outside the normal hours set aside for affairs of state. It wasn’t so much that Uther was a bad father: Arthur didn’t really know what sort of father his was, since he had never seen the man try to be one. Still, Uther had got it into his head to start out on the path of fatherhood this late in the game, and these talks were happening once every week or so now. But Arthur hadn’t yet learned to like them.
He complained, in a roundabout sort of way, to Merlin, who was gloriously unsympathetic. “It’s an hour each week that you have to be with your father, rather than with the King. Just…” he grinned. “Lie back and think of Albion.”
Arthur had actually had to restrain the urge to throw something sharp and pointy at his lover and sometime-manservant.
When Uther greeted him with a goblet of one of his better wines, Arthur started to tense. When Uther continued the conversation with a smile which almost passed as genial on his stone-carved face, he began to be convinced that someone he knew must have died a horrible, slow, lingering death - it probably said something deep and meaningful about him that his mind flashed immediately to Merlin. And when Uther asked kindly after ‘that manservant I gave you’, he was absolutely certain that something unimaginably horrible was about to happen.
He was right.
“You know, Arthur…” Uther stared down into fire, and steadfastly refused to look at his son, taking a healthy swig of his wine for courage. Arthur followed his example; evidently, he was going to need it. “You’re a young man. I understand the, er, the… urges of the flesh. I know you - I know that to you, they seem, um… imperative.”
Arthur looked down at his goblet, and poured some more wine into it. They hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol for this kind of conversation.
“And I’m sure you believe that you love that boy of yours,” Uther continued, his voice rigidly emotionless. “But you have to think of Albion.”
Halfway through a gulp of wine, Arthur remembered Merlin’s earlier quip, and choked.
“I know.” Uther looked up for the first time, something which looked almost like sympathy flickering in the lines around his eyes, “I know how hard it is, sometimes. And I’m not asking you to give the boy - Merryon?”
“Merlin.” Arthur croaked, and Uther waved a careless hand.
“Yes, him. I’m not asking you to give him up, you understand. By all means, have your fun.” He was staring back at the flames again, and Arthur couldn’t have been more glad; the last thing he wanted to do in his father’s presence was think of the kind of fun he had with Merlin. Frankly, he was starting to wonder how easy it would be to beat himself to death with the goblet he was holding. “But Albion will need an heir.”
“Of course, Father.” He agreed, quickly. “I understand.”
“I knew you would.” Uther drained his goblet, and stood. “Now, er, run along. I have proper work to be attending to.”
Arthur flinched a little, but set his goblet down and bowed a little. “Yes. Er, thank you, Father.”
As he walked away, he wondered whether Gaius had anything he could use to scrub his mind of that conversation.
**
Gaius didn’t, so Arthur settled for the next best thing - moaning about it to Merlin. After all, if he had to suffer, Merlin should too. After all, it was all his fault. Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how it was all Merlin’s fault, but given time and inclination, he could probably blame just about anything on Merlin.
To his disappointment, Merlin didn’t seem as thrown by the conversation as he was. “He’s got a point, y’know.” He pointed out, carelessly. “And at least he’s not about to have me executed for corrupting his heir.”
“Corrupting hi- hey!” Arthur felt his masculine pride might have been wounded by that. “You didn’t ‘corrupt’ me.”
Merlin shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He quirked that sideways grin which never failed to infuriate Arthur in the best possible ways.
“He didn’t.” But even trading insults with Merlin - which always led to trading kisses, which was always wonderful - couldn’t distract him from the full horror of that little family gathering. “But… my father. Is talking to me about my love life. My father.” He shuddered. “Urgh.”
Merlin folded Arthur’s cloak over the back of one of the chairs before plopping down into it. “You’re not the only person whose parents have talked to them about the joys of physical relations.” He said, dryly. “My mother had a long and serious talk with me about safe ‘relations’ when this boy in my village braved all the mockery by daring to think I was good-looking.”
Arthur looked up that, jealousy rising momentarily to eclipse his horror at his father’s actions. “D’you have a name?” he asked, casually.
The look Merlin gave him was irritatingly knowing. “Don’t even try it.” He warned, comfortably, putting his feet up on the long table under the window. “Seriously. You’ll get over it.”
“It was horrible.”
“I’m sure it was.” He agreed, and Arthur bit down the urge to hit him.
“I’m going to the practice courts.” He said, stiffly, standing and deliberately knocking his cloak off the chair and onto the floor. “Aren't you going to pick that up?” he asked pointedly. taking an unholy delight in both ordering Merlin around and watching the other boy bend over to pick the offending item up.
The look Merlin gave him promised no very great rewards for this, but, as Arthur allowed his cloak to billow out behind him as he left, he was alright with that for the moment.
**
After a week or so, they both let Arthur’s conversation with Uther drop out of their minds, and continued their love affair as they had before - not exactly public, but not as clandestine as originally. There was no grand kissing in the Entrance Hall, but equally, there was less pretence at an ordinary master/servant relationship. Things were -comfortable. Things were how they wanted them.
And then everything went pear-shaped, just over a month later.
After the sixth time that Merlin arrived over two hours late in the morning, Arthur stormed into Gaius’ chambers, and glared at the old physician.
Gaius, now used to mood-swings like this, bowed perfunctorily to the prince, and carried on reading.
“Where is he!?” Arthur demanded, “Where is the idiot?”
“I believe he’s in the privy, sire.” Gaius said, imperturbably, turning the page. “He seems to be having some trouble keeping things down.”
“Well, can’t you give him something for it?” Arthur snapped, disguising the beginnings of worry as irritation.
“Not until I examine him.” The look Gaius was giving him was a little too shrewd for comfort, and since when had he been so transparent, anyway?
“Shouldn’t you have done that already?” Arthur demanded. “If he’s been like this all week…” he gestured vaguely at the privy, and tried to hide the wince as his lover retched particularly violently.
Gaius shrugged. “It’s not normally my practice to examine a patient who specifically tells me he doesn’t want me to.”
Arthur’s jaw set. “He did, did he?” he said, grimly, and marched over to the privy. “Merlin?” he rapped sharply on the door, his tone rather brusque.
“Go ’way.” The other boy moaned from the other side of the door. “Be out in a minu’e…” Whatever else he might have said was lost in another round of heaving.
Arthur battled down any natural sympathy, and opened the door, heaving Merlin up bodily by his arms, and manhandling him out into Gaius’ chambers. “We’re going to ask the nice physician to find out what’s wrong with you.” he told Merlin, patronisingly, and he knew that, if his servant wasn’t feeling quite so ill, he would only have avoided a black eye by pulling rank. “Here.” He shoved a bucket at him. “You can even have that for if you feel sick.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to have to make you clean this jacket again so soon.”
Merlin looked blearily up at him. “Don’ wanna be examined.” He actually pouted - for someone who was so independent, he had acting like a baby down to a fine art.
Gaius frowned. “Why on earth not?” he demanded, looking just a little hurt.
“Good question.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Go on, Merlin. Why not?”
Merlin managed to stave off the questions for a few moments by retching pitifully into a bucket, but the looks he was getting didn’t allow any prevarication. Hopefully, he said, “Can I have a glass of water?”
A cup was shoved into his hand by an impatient Arthur. “Now. Why. Not?”
Merlin sipped at the water gratefully, then shrugged awkwardly. “I think I know what’s wrong with me.”
“So you’re a trained physician now, are you?” Arthur asked brusquely, one eyebrow raised.
Gaius was giving Merlin a look which bordered on frightening. “And what might that be, Merlin?”
Merlin glanced at Arthur. “Could we - I need to-” he broke off again. “Just Gaius.” He said firmly, after a pause. Arthur felt it like a kick in the stomach, but he and Merlin hadn’t exactly built their relationships on protestations of love and talking about their feelings. It wasn’t even really that much of a relationship.
“Of course,” he said stiffly, and strode towards the door.
“Arthur!” Merlin called after him, and Arthur looked back. His lover looked rather woebegone, very pale with two spots of colour high on his cheekbones, his hair messy and his eyes over-bright. “I really am sorry,” he said miserably, and Arthur nodded a little.
“It’s fine,” he said simply, though it wasn’t, and let himself out of the room to the sound of Merlin throwing up into the bucket. He headed back to his own room, and fretted miserably over the whole thing by himself.
**
Once they were alone, and Merlin had finished retching, Gaius fixed Merlin with a firm look. “What is it, Merlin?”
Merlin sipped his water, and stared down into the cup as though it might hold the answers. “Um, well, you have to promise to hear me out.”
Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Now, Merlin, would you please tell me what on earth is going on?”
Merlin kept his eyes firmly on his lap. “You see, I’ve thought it through, and I just can’t think of what else it could b-”
“Merlin!” Gaius snapped. “For the last time, would you stop prevaricating and get to the point!”
Finally, Merlin looked up. “It’s just…I think I might be pregnant.”
For a moment, Gaius stood stock still, and stared at him, then he shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re male, you lack the necessary equipment.” He whirled round, and strode over to his desk, where he picked up a quill, ink, and a sheet of parchment. “You’re obviously sick,” Merlin offered a rather hysterical laugh by way of response, “and many symptoms might seem to mimic pregnancy, to the uninitiated eye.”
Merlin looked up, hopefully. “Really?” a little of the mischief came back into his eyes. “So - I could be normal?”
Gaius raised an eyebrow, and allowed the silence to stretch for a few moments longer than necessary. “No, Merlin. That, I sincerely doubt. But you may just have the flu. Now, list your symptoms for me…”
**
Gaius sent a message to Arthur that Merlin would be unavailable for duty that day - and steadfastly ignored the faintly lascivious look on Merlin’s face as he did so - and spent the next couple of hours examining his protégé. Unbeknownst to Merlin, his mentor’s expression darkened considerably when Merlin had to excuse himself to visit the privy twice in that time, and darkened still further when he mentioned, among his symptoms, abdominal cramping and extreme fatigue. Not to mention the near constant underlying nausea.
Gaius frowned down at his notes, and finally frowned back up at Merlin, who was favouring him with an optimistic smile. “Just flu?” he asked, hopefully.
“It’s no flu I’ve ever seen.” Gaius muttered. “You’re sure you haven’t drunk or eaten anything unusual over the last few days?” Merlin’s recent poisoning was nearly a year ago now, but it was all too fresh in their minds. In a way, Gaius thought, despairingly, it would be preferable if Merlin had been poisoned. It would certainly be easier to explain. Rallying slightly, he said firmly, “I’ll need to take a urine sample, Merlin.”
The boy stared. “You need to what?”
“I need a urine sample.” He said, impatiently. “There are certain herbs I can use to determine…” he saw the look on Merlin’s face, and broke off. “To gain a little extra knowledge.” He amended. “In the meantime, you had better go and see whether there is anything Arthur wants.”
“I’d rather wait until I have something to tell him.” Merlin muttered, but knew better than to try and oppose Gaius. “Fine, urine sample, and then I’m going!”
**
Ten minutes later, Merlin was nearly at Arthur’s room, and was trying to ignore the fact that he felt like he’d taken the journey at a sprint, when he bumped into Gwen.
“Merlin!” her smile was wide and genuine as ever, though she had been a little more awkward than normal around him after it had become common knowledge among the servants that he was Arthur’s lover. “Arthur running you ragged?”
“Something like that.” Merlin nodded, with an easy smile in return, only to watch as Gwen’s grin slipped just a little. “No, no, I didn’t mean that!” he hastened to reassure her. “Just normal servant stuff, nothing - no, um, funny business.”
She nodded, quickly. “Oh, OK. I didn’t think - but then, I didn’t want to assume…” she broke off. “I have a message for Arthur from Morgana.” She said, her voice a little unsure, and Merlin nodded, as relieved as she was that they were on safer ground. “She wanted to know whether he would ride with her, since the King won’t let her out of the castle on her own at the moment.”
“Well, I’m on my way to Arthur’s chambers at the moment.” Merlin offered. “You could walk with me, we could - catch up.”
“Yes! It’s been ages since I’ve talked to you. Not that I haven’t wanted to, of course, but we’ve both been… busy.” Neither of them could quite meet the other’s eyes, and they walked in silence for a few moments before Merlin broke it.
“So, how have you been, then?” he asked a little awkwardly.
“Good! Ever since that horrible illness, Dad’s been fit as a fiddle, so that’s good. I mean, the plague was terrible, but I’m glad he’s OK.”
“Course you are.” Merlin nodded, staunchly.
“So what have you been up to?” she asked, and flushed as soon as she’d said it - but didn’t retract the question.
“I’ve been being instructed in how better to serve my master.” Merlin returned, with a wicked grin, quoting the head of the royal household - and then caught Gwen’s wide-eyed look and realised how badly that could be construed. Flushing up himself, he groaned. “I couldn’t have said that worse if I’d tried, could I?”
Awkward but still amused, Gwen chuckled. “All the wrong things are coming out today, I think,” she agreed.
Merlin nodded, fervently. “So, why won’t Uther let Morgana ride alone?” he asked, hoping to steer the topic back to something a little safer, and less laden with potential innuendo.
“He says he’s had information about a powerful sorcerer in the forest, and that she’s not to ride alone until they’ve apprehended him.” Gwen shrugged. “I don’t think anyone believes it, but you know about his Majesty and magic. Even a suggestion…” she tailed off - there was no need to say anything further. They walked the rest of the short distance to Arthur’s chamber in silence.
**
Arthur was somewhat subdued when he let them in, and listened to Gwen’s message with a haughty silence which didn’t bode well for Merlin. He agreed to meet Morgana in half an hour, then turned to Merlin.
“Well?” he asked tersely. “Are you going to die?”
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know.” He said, frankly. “Gaius doesn’t know what’s wrong with me yet.”
“So you could-” Merlin’s poisoning was even more vivid in Arthur’s memory than in anyone elses.
“No!” Merlin hastened to reassure him; he hadn’t realised Arthur’s off-handed question had been because he was really worried. “No, it’s nothing important.”
“Good.” Arthur managed a rather weak little smile. “That’s - yes, that’s good.”
“Yeah, because it would be terribly difficult to replace your servant-with-benefits.” Merlin said tartly, his half-smile more than enough to convince Arthur that he didn’t mean it.
He simply shrugged instead. “Well, since you’re here, you might as well clean my boots,” said with the sweetest smile he could manage. “It will take your mind off worrying.” Merlin returned his smile readily. His smile had knives in it.
“Oh, thank you,” he returned, and set to work on the boots.
**
Half an hour later saw Arthur and Morgana on their way out of the gates - in the presence of two less-than-discrete guards, which had annoyed Arthur more than anything else, Merlin had noted smugly - and Merlin heading back up to Gaius’ chambers. He found his mentor sat, white-faced, in front of a vial of blue liquid.
“So? What’s the verdict?” Merlin asked, hoping his tone would disguise the way his hands were shaking and sweating, and he was having trouble keeping his voice steady against the thumping of his heart.
Gaius looked up at him, looking a little blank. “Um, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Merlin,” his heart sped up still further, and seemed to be beating in his throat, “But it seems as though we may have a problem.” He was starting to feel light-headed. “It - it appears that you may indeed be… well. Pregnant.”
**
All done for the moment! Hope you like it so far. ^_^
**
Part Two
**
Rating: PG-13 for this part (a little bad language). Will be NC-17 later.
Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for 'The Poisoned Chalice', and mpreg as a major plot-point. Please avoid if this squicks you! Some humour, the grounds for future angst (I can't help myself), and potential squickiness.
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: Hi! I've popped up here and there in this lovely new shiny fandom, but never posted anything - and I'm a little sad that the first thing I'm posting here is an mpreg, when that squicks so many people. Multi-chapter mpreg, no less... But fear not, I have a huge cage full of all my Merlin plotbunnies.
...um, actually, yes, do fear. It'll be much safer in the long run. *blushes and scurries off* Oh, before I have tried to lj-cut this, but the lj-cut is not always my friend, and it may not have worked. I'll edit if not.
**
Long association had taught Arthur to be just the slightest bit wary whenever his father asked to see him outside the normal hours set aside for affairs of state. It wasn’t so much that Uther was a bad father: Arthur didn’t really know what sort of father his was, since he had never seen the man try to be one. Still, Uther had got it into his head to start out on the path of fatherhood this late in the game, and these talks were happening once every week or so now. But Arthur hadn’t yet learned to like them.
He complained, in a roundabout sort of way, to Merlin, who was gloriously unsympathetic. “It’s an hour each week that you have to be with your father, rather than with the King. Just…” he grinned. “Lie back and think of Albion.”
Arthur had actually had to restrain the urge to throw something sharp and pointy at his lover and sometime-manservant.
When Uther greeted him with a goblet of one of his better wines, Arthur started to tense. When Uther continued the conversation with a smile which almost passed as genial on his stone-carved face, he began to be convinced that someone he knew must have died a horrible, slow, lingering death - it probably said something deep and meaningful about him that his mind flashed immediately to Merlin. And when Uther asked kindly after ‘that manservant I gave you’, he was absolutely certain that something unimaginably horrible was about to happen.
He was right.
“You know, Arthur…” Uther stared down into fire, and steadfastly refused to look at his son, taking a healthy swig of his wine for courage. Arthur followed his example; evidently, he was going to need it. “You’re a young man. I understand the, er, the… urges of the flesh. I know you - I know that to you, they seem, um… imperative.”
Arthur looked down at his goblet, and poured some more wine into it. They hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol for this kind of conversation.
“And I’m sure you believe that you love that boy of yours,” Uther continued, his voice rigidly emotionless. “But you have to think of Albion.”
Halfway through a gulp of wine, Arthur remembered Merlin’s earlier quip, and choked.
“I know.” Uther looked up for the first time, something which looked almost like sympathy flickering in the lines around his eyes, “I know how hard it is, sometimes. And I’m not asking you to give the boy - Merryon?”
“Merlin.” Arthur croaked, and Uther waved a careless hand.
“Yes, him. I’m not asking you to give him up, you understand. By all means, have your fun.” He was staring back at the flames again, and Arthur couldn’t have been more glad; the last thing he wanted to do in his father’s presence was think of the kind of fun he had with Merlin. Frankly, he was starting to wonder how easy it would be to beat himself to death with the goblet he was holding. “But Albion will need an heir.”
“Of course, Father.” He agreed, quickly. “I understand.”
“I knew you would.” Uther drained his goblet, and stood. “Now, er, run along. I have proper work to be attending to.”
Arthur flinched a little, but set his goblet down and bowed a little. “Yes. Er, thank you, Father.”
As he walked away, he wondered whether Gaius had anything he could use to scrub his mind of that conversation.
**
Gaius didn’t, so Arthur settled for the next best thing - moaning about it to Merlin. After all, if he had to suffer, Merlin should too. After all, it was all his fault. Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how it was all Merlin’s fault, but given time and inclination, he could probably blame just about anything on Merlin.
To his disappointment, Merlin didn’t seem as thrown by the conversation as he was. “He’s got a point, y’know.” He pointed out, carelessly. “And at least he’s not about to have me executed for corrupting his heir.”
“Corrupting hi- hey!” Arthur felt his masculine pride might have been wounded by that. “You didn’t ‘corrupt’ me.”
Merlin shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He quirked that sideways grin which never failed to infuriate Arthur in the best possible ways.
“He didn’t.” But even trading insults with Merlin - which always led to trading kisses, which was always wonderful - couldn’t distract him from the full horror of that little family gathering. “But… my father. Is talking to me about my love life. My father.” He shuddered. “Urgh.”
Merlin folded Arthur’s cloak over the back of one of the chairs before plopping down into it. “You’re not the only person whose parents have talked to them about the joys of physical relations.” He said, dryly. “My mother had a long and serious talk with me about safe ‘relations’ when this boy in my village braved all the mockery by daring to think I was good-looking.”
Arthur looked up that, jealousy rising momentarily to eclipse his horror at his father’s actions. “D’you have a name?” he asked, casually.
The look Merlin gave him was irritatingly knowing. “Don’t even try it.” He warned, comfortably, putting his feet up on the long table under the window. “Seriously. You’ll get over it.”
“It was horrible.”
“I’m sure it was.” He agreed, and Arthur bit down the urge to hit him.
“I’m going to the practice courts.” He said, stiffly, standing and deliberately knocking his cloak off the chair and onto the floor. “Aren't you going to pick that up?” he asked pointedly. taking an unholy delight in both ordering Merlin around and watching the other boy bend over to pick the offending item up.
The look Merlin gave him promised no very great rewards for this, but, as Arthur allowed his cloak to billow out behind him as he left, he was alright with that for the moment.
**
After a week or so, they both let Arthur’s conversation with Uther drop out of their minds, and continued their love affair as they had before - not exactly public, but not as clandestine as originally. There was no grand kissing in the Entrance Hall, but equally, there was less pretence at an ordinary master/servant relationship. Things were -comfortable. Things were how they wanted them.
And then everything went pear-shaped, just over a month later.
After the sixth time that Merlin arrived over two hours late in the morning, Arthur stormed into Gaius’ chambers, and glared at the old physician.
Gaius, now used to mood-swings like this, bowed perfunctorily to the prince, and carried on reading.
“Where is he!?” Arthur demanded, “Where is the idiot?”
“I believe he’s in the privy, sire.” Gaius said, imperturbably, turning the page. “He seems to be having some trouble keeping things down.”
“Well, can’t you give him something for it?” Arthur snapped, disguising the beginnings of worry as irritation.
“Not until I examine him.” The look Gaius was giving him was a little too shrewd for comfort, and since when had he been so transparent, anyway?
“Shouldn’t you have done that already?” Arthur demanded. “If he’s been like this all week…” he gestured vaguely at the privy, and tried to hide the wince as his lover retched particularly violently.
Gaius shrugged. “It’s not normally my practice to examine a patient who specifically tells me he doesn’t want me to.”
Arthur’s jaw set. “He did, did he?” he said, grimly, and marched over to the privy. “Merlin?” he rapped sharply on the door, his tone rather brusque.
“Go ’way.” The other boy moaned from the other side of the door. “Be out in a minu’e…” Whatever else he might have said was lost in another round of heaving.
Arthur battled down any natural sympathy, and opened the door, heaving Merlin up bodily by his arms, and manhandling him out into Gaius’ chambers. “We’re going to ask the nice physician to find out what’s wrong with you.” he told Merlin, patronisingly, and he knew that, if his servant wasn’t feeling quite so ill, he would only have avoided a black eye by pulling rank. “Here.” He shoved a bucket at him. “You can even have that for if you feel sick.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to have to make you clean this jacket again so soon.”
Merlin looked blearily up at him. “Don’ wanna be examined.” He actually pouted - for someone who was so independent, he had acting like a baby down to a fine art.
Gaius frowned. “Why on earth not?” he demanded, looking just a little hurt.
“Good question.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Go on, Merlin. Why not?”
Merlin managed to stave off the questions for a few moments by retching pitifully into a bucket, but the looks he was getting didn’t allow any prevarication. Hopefully, he said, “Can I have a glass of water?”
A cup was shoved into his hand by an impatient Arthur. “Now. Why. Not?”
Merlin sipped at the water gratefully, then shrugged awkwardly. “I think I know what’s wrong with me.”
“So you’re a trained physician now, are you?” Arthur asked brusquely, one eyebrow raised.
Gaius was giving Merlin a look which bordered on frightening. “And what might that be, Merlin?”
Merlin glanced at Arthur. “Could we - I need to-” he broke off again. “Just Gaius.” He said firmly, after a pause. Arthur felt it like a kick in the stomach, but he and Merlin hadn’t exactly built their relationships on protestations of love and talking about their feelings. It wasn’t even really that much of a relationship.
“Of course,” he said stiffly, and strode towards the door.
“Arthur!” Merlin called after him, and Arthur looked back. His lover looked rather woebegone, very pale with two spots of colour high on his cheekbones, his hair messy and his eyes over-bright. “I really am sorry,” he said miserably, and Arthur nodded a little.
“It’s fine,” he said simply, though it wasn’t, and let himself out of the room to the sound of Merlin throwing up into the bucket. He headed back to his own room, and fretted miserably over the whole thing by himself.
**
Once they were alone, and Merlin had finished retching, Gaius fixed Merlin with a firm look. “What is it, Merlin?”
Merlin sipped his water, and stared down into the cup as though it might hold the answers. “Um, well, you have to promise to hear me out.”
Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Now, Merlin, would you please tell me what on earth is going on?”
Merlin kept his eyes firmly on his lap. “You see, I’ve thought it through, and I just can’t think of what else it could b-”
“Merlin!” Gaius snapped. “For the last time, would you stop prevaricating and get to the point!”
Finally, Merlin looked up. “It’s just…I think I might be pregnant.”
For a moment, Gaius stood stock still, and stared at him, then he shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re male, you lack the necessary equipment.” He whirled round, and strode over to his desk, where he picked up a quill, ink, and a sheet of parchment. “You’re obviously sick,” Merlin offered a rather hysterical laugh by way of response, “and many symptoms might seem to mimic pregnancy, to the uninitiated eye.”
Merlin looked up, hopefully. “Really?” a little of the mischief came back into his eyes. “So - I could be normal?”
Gaius raised an eyebrow, and allowed the silence to stretch for a few moments longer than necessary. “No, Merlin. That, I sincerely doubt. But you may just have the flu. Now, list your symptoms for me…”
**
Gaius sent a message to Arthur that Merlin would be unavailable for duty that day - and steadfastly ignored the faintly lascivious look on Merlin’s face as he did so - and spent the next couple of hours examining his protégé. Unbeknownst to Merlin, his mentor’s expression darkened considerably when Merlin had to excuse himself to visit the privy twice in that time, and darkened still further when he mentioned, among his symptoms, abdominal cramping and extreme fatigue. Not to mention the near constant underlying nausea.
Gaius frowned down at his notes, and finally frowned back up at Merlin, who was favouring him with an optimistic smile. “Just flu?” he asked, hopefully.
“It’s no flu I’ve ever seen.” Gaius muttered. “You’re sure you haven’t drunk or eaten anything unusual over the last few days?” Merlin’s recent poisoning was nearly a year ago now, but it was all too fresh in their minds. In a way, Gaius thought, despairingly, it would be preferable if Merlin had been poisoned. It would certainly be easier to explain. Rallying slightly, he said firmly, “I’ll need to take a urine sample, Merlin.”
The boy stared. “You need to what?”
“I need a urine sample.” He said, impatiently. “There are certain herbs I can use to determine…” he saw the look on Merlin’s face, and broke off. “To gain a little extra knowledge.” He amended. “In the meantime, you had better go and see whether there is anything Arthur wants.”
“I’d rather wait until I have something to tell him.” Merlin muttered, but knew better than to try and oppose Gaius. “Fine, urine sample, and then I’m going!”
**
Ten minutes later, Merlin was nearly at Arthur’s room, and was trying to ignore the fact that he felt like he’d taken the journey at a sprint, when he bumped into Gwen.
“Merlin!” her smile was wide and genuine as ever, though she had been a little more awkward than normal around him after it had become common knowledge among the servants that he was Arthur’s lover. “Arthur running you ragged?”
“Something like that.” Merlin nodded, with an easy smile in return, only to watch as Gwen’s grin slipped just a little. “No, no, I didn’t mean that!” he hastened to reassure her. “Just normal servant stuff, nothing - no, um, funny business.”
She nodded, quickly. “Oh, OK. I didn’t think - but then, I didn’t want to assume…” she broke off. “I have a message for Arthur from Morgana.” She said, her voice a little unsure, and Merlin nodded, as relieved as she was that they were on safer ground. “She wanted to know whether he would ride with her, since the King won’t let her out of the castle on her own at the moment.”
“Well, I’m on my way to Arthur’s chambers at the moment.” Merlin offered. “You could walk with me, we could - catch up.”
“Yes! It’s been ages since I’ve talked to you. Not that I haven’t wanted to, of course, but we’ve both been… busy.” Neither of them could quite meet the other’s eyes, and they walked in silence for a few moments before Merlin broke it.
“So, how have you been, then?” he asked a little awkwardly.
“Good! Ever since that horrible illness, Dad’s been fit as a fiddle, so that’s good. I mean, the plague was terrible, but I’m glad he’s OK.”
“Course you are.” Merlin nodded, staunchly.
“So what have you been up to?” she asked, and flushed as soon as she’d said it - but didn’t retract the question.
“I’ve been being instructed in how better to serve my master.” Merlin returned, with a wicked grin, quoting the head of the royal household - and then caught Gwen’s wide-eyed look and realised how badly that could be construed. Flushing up himself, he groaned. “I couldn’t have said that worse if I’d tried, could I?”
Awkward but still amused, Gwen chuckled. “All the wrong things are coming out today, I think,” she agreed.
Merlin nodded, fervently. “So, why won’t Uther let Morgana ride alone?” he asked, hoping to steer the topic back to something a little safer, and less laden with potential innuendo.
“He says he’s had information about a powerful sorcerer in the forest, and that she’s not to ride alone until they’ve apprehended him.” Gwen shrugged. “I don’t think anyone believes it, but you know about his Majesty and magic. Even a suggestion…” she tailed off - there was no need to say anything further. They walked the rest of the short distance to Arthur’s chamber in silence.
**
Arthur was somewhat subdued when he let them in, and listened to Gwen’s message with a haughty silence which didn’t bode well for Merlin. He agreed to meet Morgana in half an hour, then turned to Merlin.
“Well?” he asked tersely. “Are you going to die?”
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know.” He said, frankly. “Gaius doesn’t know what’s wrong with me yet.”
“So you could-” Merlin’s poisoning was even more vivid in Arthur’s memory than in anyone elses.
“No!” Merlin hastened to reassure him; he hadn’t realised Arthur’s off-handed question had been because he was really worried. “No, it’s nothing important.”
“Good.” Arthur managed a rather weak little smile. “That’s - yes, that’s good.”
“Yeah, because it would be terribly difficult to replace your servant-with-benefits.” Merlin said tartly, his half-smile more than enough to convince Arthur that he didn’t mean it.
He simply shrugged instead. “Well, since you’re here, you might as well clean my boots,” said with the sweetest smile he could manage. “It will take your mind off worrying.” Merlin returned his smile readily. His smile had knives in it.
“Oh, thank you,” he returned, and set to work on the boots.
**
Half an hour later saw Arthur and Morgana on their way out of the gates - in the presence of two less-than-discrete guards, which had annoyed Arthur more than anything else, Merlin had noted smugly - and Merlin heading back up to Gaius’ chambers. He found his mentor sat, white-faced, in front of a vial of blue liquid.
“So? What’s the verdict?” Merlin asked, hoping his tone would disguise the way his hands were shaking and sweating, and he was having trouble keeping his voice steady against the thumping of his heart.
Gaius looked up at him, looking a little blank. “Um, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Merlin,” his heart sped up still further, and seemed to be beating in his throat, “But it seems as though we may have a problem.” He was starting to feel light-headed. “It - it appears that you may indeed be… well. Pregnant.”
**
All done for the moment! Hope you like it so far. ^_^
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Part Two
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