Magic, Marriage and Mayhem, Part 3
Title: Magic, Marriage and Mayhem, 3/?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mpreg as a major plotpoint (er, THE plotpoint, really!), possible ooc-ness (*sigh* Sorry!) and a plot rushed enough to be a contender in the Grand Freakin' Prix.
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: I'm not very happy with this part; the fic seems to have lost it's Funny. The next part is even WORSE, because Merlin and Arthur won't cooperate, and their relationship won't go where I want it to and urgh. ^_^ Sorry. I'm not fishing for compliments - I'm just DEEPLY frustrated by this at the moment, but I'm sure that will pass. *smile* Things seem to be coming round, anyway!
On a different, far more positive note, thank you all so much for your lovely comments, I've been overwhelmed at the response this has had! I hope you all enjoy this part of it, despite my misgivings, and thank you all again for commenting and being so generally lovely. I think if I loved this show and its fandom any harder, I might just pass out. *grin*
**
Previous Parts:
Part One
Part Two
**
“Gaius is my mentor.” Merlin pointed out. “Of course he has to know, I tell him everything.”
“Did he know about your magic?” Arthur asked, rather jealously.
Merlin just raised an eyebrow at him, and it took all of Arthur’s royal training not to flush. Of course Gaius knew, and now Arthur had just been caught acting jealous over Gaius. Merlin grinned at his expression and said easily, “well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to deal with this. How did this actually happen?”
“Two things,” Arthur said, realisation a cold trickle down his spine. Merlin raised a questioning eyebrow at him, and he swallowed. “If we do manage to convince my father of this… you do know he’ll probably make me marry you, right?”
**
Merlin stared at him, horror-struck. In all honesty, that possibility had never crossed his mind, and for a moment, he considered just ignoring it. But that would be cowardly, and Merlin was many things, but he could never be accused of cowardice. Finally, he shook his head. “He might not?” he suggested weakly. “After all, you marrying me isn’t going to benefit Camelot at all, is it? No new alliances, no peace treaty with another country…”
“Well, don’t sound so hopeful,” Arthur replied tartly.
“It’s not that!” Merlin hurried to say. “But marrying me - a servant, not even a noble - isn’t useful. What do you get out of it?”
“My father is the one who wants something for Camelot to come out of my marriage,” Arthur said rather stiffly. “I’ve never wanted anything but to marry for the same kind of,” he paused momentarily, wary of giving too much away, “affection that my parents shared.” Merlin looked somewhat taken aback, and Arthur was quick to press his advantage. “And of course my father is desperate for an heir to secure the succession. If we can convince him that this child is mine, then he will be the most vocal advocate for a marriage between us, to legitimise it.”
“There is that, I suppose.” Merlin agreed. He really hadn’t meant it to sound so despondent, especially not since Arthur had for the first time admitted that there was more between them than Merlin had ever allowed himself to hope. Quickly, he recovered himself. “All I mean is - I can just leave Camelot? It’s easy enough for me to disappear. All of this can go away so easily for you - it’s not like anyone would look for me, is it?”
Arthur managed to internalise the horror he felt at that suggestion. “Shut up, Merlin,” he said brusquely, and Merlin grinned. Apparently, for all its brutality, that was exactly the response the he’d been hoping for.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves, anyway,” he said firmly. “We have to convince your father that this isn’t some devil-child first, and that’s not going to be easy. But if - if - we can, then - well, like you said, the King wants an heir to the throne after you. You’ll wake up one morning to find that you haven’t shamefully knocked up some male servant, but that the Pendragon genes are so strong they can even get men with child.”
Arthur snorted at that, and nodded reluctantly, though it didn’t feel as though the conversation was really closed. “Then I suppose the real question is - how the hell did this happen?”
Merlin shrugged. “Got me.”
**
At a loss for any further answers, they headed back down to Gaius’ rooms, and petitioned him for ideas - that is, Merlin asked Gaius whether he knew what was ‘wrong with him’, and Arthur loomed behind him, trying to maintain a regal air while simultaneously trying to suppress his intense curiosity.
Shock and disbelief would come later. For now, he just wanted to know how the hell this had happened.
“Truly?” Gaius shut the enormous tome he was looking through, and waved away a little of the resulting dust. “I don’t know. The most I can guess is that the oestrogen content in your blood is higher than in most males, which may have predisposed you towards this.”
Merlin frowned, and shook his head. “Oestrogen?”
Gaius’ expression became slightly patronising, mixed with a little old fashioned condescension. Merlin recognised the expression from Arthur, and shuddered. “It’s what we scientists call a ‘hormone’. We all have it, but it’s found in greater amounts in women - hence the menstrual cycle.”
Merlin considered asking what on earth the ‘menstrual cycle’ was when it was at home, then decided that he probably didn’t want to know. “So - I have this female… hormone, was it?”
“I think so.” Gaius nodded. “I suspect that, combined with a little…” he tailed off, glancing at Arthur, who simply raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin hurried to fill in the gaps.
“Oh, he knows about… all that.” He made the vague wiggly gestures with his fingers that Arthur had made earlier, and Gaius gave him a rather disapproving look but nodded.
“Well then, that’s one less worry, I suppose,” his tone was bone dry. “I suspect that this higher oestrogen content, combined with a little magic, did the job by itself. No one has ever had magic like you, Merlin; I doubt there’s anything it can’t do instinctively. It may have sensed a desire for children in you, and simply done the rest itself, egged on by the oestrogen in your blood.”
Merlin glanced at Arthur. “It would make sense,” he pointed out quietly. “T was when the King gave you that talk about Camelot needing an heir. I suppose it just… my magic,” he lowered his voice just as Gaius had done earlier, “translated that as me wanting to give you an heir. And it… did this. With the help of that girly east-ro-jen thing.”
“Oestrogen, Merlin. And it didn’t help, I suspect, so much as it simply - tipped the scales,” Gaius corrected punctiliously.
Arthur, sensing Merlin’s desire to change the subject, broke in with a sententious nod. “I’ve always said you were a girl, haven’t I?” he said, and Merlin shot him a vicious glare.
“I can tell you’re going to be oh-so-supportive during all this,” he said, sarcastically, and Arthur simply shrugged.
“I don’t have to be supportive - I have servants to do that for me.” Merlin’s glare stepped it up a couple of notches and became genuinely poisonous.
He opened his mouth to respond, but Gaius got there first. “If you two have quite finished?” he asked disapprovingly. “Your Highness, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that your father will be less than pleased by this. The whole situation is quite obviously magical, and Merlin’s life hangs in the balance.”
“When you put it that way, the whole thing does seem a little less funny,” Merlin muttered under his breath, and Arthur smiled, but muttered back,
“To you, maybe. To me, it’s still hilarious.” His smile didn’t survive Merlin treading heavily on his foot.
Gaius was watching them both, eyebrow firmly raised. “You have to decide whether you want to tell your father, or whether you would rather Merlin-”
Arthur interrupted him quickly. “Merlin and I have come up with a basic plan, but we would, of course, welcome your input.” Nothing like charming the pseudo-in-laws, even if he had started a little late in the game.
Gaius paused very briefly. “And what is this plan?” he asked carefully. Arthur outlined it for him and he nodded slowly. “It has merit. Hopefully, Uther is unlikely to punish the hapless victim of a spell designed to ruin the Pendragon line.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s all sorted,” Merlin said with false brightness. “So, I suppose the only remaining question is whether or not I should wear white?”
**
Arthur’s conversation with Uther was every bit as painful as he had expected - “When I said you had to provide an heir, I didn’t mean you should pervert the laws of nature to do so!” However, once his father had calmed down enough to listen to their carefully prepared story, he was a little more reasonable - he did at least stop thinking up new, even more painful ways to kill Merlin, which was a good thing from Arthur’s point of view.
“You’re certain this servant is pregnant? He isn’t simply ill?” he said finally, sounding a little desperate.
“Quite certain, Father,” Arthur told him firmly. Wouldn’t that be convenient? he thought grimly. Then they could all forget this ever happened. “The physician has examined him, and says he is definitely - expecting.”
“Good God,” Uther said faintly, and Arthur agreed whole-heartedly, if silently. “And we’re sure the child is - human?”
Arthur flinched a little. “Evidently, it wouldn’t have been created without the aid of magic,” he watched, with some satisfaction, as his father himself flinched at that, “but since the spell doesn’t seem to have been designed to impregnate the boy,” Merlin would be furious at hearing himself described like that, he thought, “There’s no reason to expect otherwise.”
“And are the effects of this spell permanent?” Uther hedged.
Arthur considered this, and wished they had thought of an answer to this before he came in here. Deciding the best lie was one mixed with a healthy degree of truth, he shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it, Father,” he said, deliberately careless. “I suppose it’s possible. Presumably, the spell’s effects on me would have been permanent, there’s no reason to think that they will be temporary on Merlin.”
Uther seemed resigned, but he did make one last ditch attempt. “I know this was only a temporary dalliance for you, Arthur,” he said kindly, and Arthur had to fight to make sure his father didn’t know how laughable he found the idea of Merlin being in any way temporary. Sometimes it felt like the other boy had managed to write himself into every part of Arthur’s life. “If you would prefer a different alliance, we can have him… disposed of.”
Arthur managed to slow his reaction down from the instinctive cry of ‘no’ he wanted to give. Shaking his head slowly, he shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s not as valuable a match as we might have hoped,” You might have hoped, Father, his treacherous mind whispered to itself, “but Camelot will have an heir and the succession is assured. That is surely worth a - less valuable match.”
His father nodded, satisfied. “Well, it is a shame,” he agreed, “But as you say, there is nothing to be done about it, and Camelot will be safe for another generation - provided this is a boy.”
“If it’s not, we will simply have to find out if this spell is permanent,” Arthur said as coolly as he could. It was difficult to believe that he was getting the one thing he had hoped for for so long, and yet was having to talk about it as though it were a disadvantage of some kind.
Uther glanced at him. “If it’s not, it’s easy enough to have the marriage set aside in favour of someone more - suitable.” Arthur inclined his head calmly and desperately hoped that the baby would be a boy. They stood in awkward silence for a few long moments, before Uther dismissed him. “I need to call a meeting of the Council to work out a strategy for this - interesting occurence.”
Arthur’s elation at having carried the whole thing off was more than enough to cushion him against his father’s habitual dryness.
**
In fact, his elation lasted him all the way back to his rooms, where he found Merlin waiting for him.
“How did it go?” the darker boy asked, and that was when everything really hit Arthur. Until now, the whole thing had seemed a little surreal and other-worldly. It hadn’t really been happening to him. But now…
“You’re having a baby,” he said dully, still trying to wrap his head around it. “We’re getting married, and then you’re going to be having a baby.”
Merlin gave him a strange look, until he processed exactly what Arthur had said. “Your father isn’t going to have me killed?” he asked tentatively, and Arthur swallowed, shaking his head.
“No. Though he did offer, if I wanted someone else.”
“I take it you said no?” Merlin raised an eyebrow, secure in the answer.
“I think if I had said yes, you would already be dead.” Arthur said, a little of his standard sarcasm returning. “But don’t get too confident, there’s still time for me to change my mind.”
Merlin glared at him. “Just you dare, and I’ll show you just what I can really do with all this magic.”
Arthur raised an insouciant eyebrow at him. “Don’t get too angry, dear - it’s bad for the baby.”
“Have I told you recently that I really, really hate you?”
**
After that, everything moved with bewildering swiftness, for Merlin at least. He was taken to see Uther - which was an exercise in being as terrified as possible while sounding as respectful as he could - and was removed from his rooms in Gaius’ apartments to a suite of his own, adjoining Arthur’s. He was measured for ‘newer, better’ clothes, and he had only a few moments here and there to explain everything to his friends among the servants, Gwen in particular. By the time he’d finished his hurried explanation, she looked as bewildered as ever, but nodded and smiled with every appearance of understanding. With a sigh, Merlin asked Morgana if she would explain things to her handmaid, and the girl gave him a look which made him squirm - a wholly unexpected mix of surprise and approval.
To his own surprise, Morgana proved to be invaluable in the first couple of weeks of the transition. He didn’t attend any official functions, but she made sure to stay close to him whenever he was in public, or politely ‘requested’ to attend court, muttering instructions under her breath. Her instructions were a lot easier to follow than the etiquette masters, at whose mercy Merlin found himself every morning for three hours, and with a mixture of her advice and sheer grim determination, he survived the first three weeks or so well enough.
Merlin found himself left surprisingly alone for those weeks. The King and his council were clearly attempting to get a handle on the situation as a whole, and neither Merlin nor Arthur were required - which was both a relief and a worry. Merlin, divided between the physicians who had been assigned to him, his daily instruction in etiquette, fittings for clothes, and the sheer, overwhelming bewilderment of it all, had little time to think about it, but it bothered him in his few free moments, and he knew it was worrying Arthur, despite seeing him, as he remarked bitterly to Gaius in the brief moments when he saw him, once in a blue moon.
It hardly helped that there was an alarming amount of propaganda flying around about the whole thing, and Merlin was amused to hear the same myth he had mentioned in jest to Arthur, about the strong Pendragon genes. In addition to that, though, Uther had had the union declared throughout the land as an example of just how high an ‘ordinary man or woman of Albion’ could rise off their own merit. Merlin rather thought that calling a man getting knocked up “his own merit” was somewhere between a farce and an insult, but didn’t feel he was in any position to comment.
The worst thing about the whole debacle, however, was really that he barely ever saw Arthur now. Although he knew it was ungrateful, he would rather have been the Prince’s servant than never see him at all.
He did his best never to think about the baby at all. He had lists of names for it, a selection of godparents, and some of the best advisors in the land, all talking to him about the poor thing, but he couldn’t quite believe it. Things like this - babies - weren’t supposed to happen to him. What if he did it wrong? He couldn’t be responsible for someone else’s life, not when it was already his job to keep Arthur alive, and when he was less than convinced he could keep himself alive. The last thing he wanted to do was raise a psychopath and then put it on the throne.
Thankfully, just as everything seemed to be spinning out of control, Arthur himself called a halt to it.
Merlin was in the middle of being talked at by his etiquette teachers - a whole new brand of etiquette had to be created for him; no one had banked on there being another Prince rather than a new, biddable Princess from another land who would be only-too-glad to follow their instructions and so-grateful for whatever attention Arthur chose to bestow upon her - when Arthur himself strode into the room with a face like thunder.
“Enough,” he snapped at the teachers. “Out.”
“Your Highness-”
“I said out.” Arthur’s voice was very hard, and Merlin wasn’t certain that even he would have dared to contradict it. The tutors left without another word.
“This is ridiculous,” Arthur told him firmly, and Merlin shrugged.
“You’re not going to get any arguments from me,” he said. “I haven’t seen Gaius for over a week, I barely see you, and I’ve just been at the centre of an argument over whether I should curtsey to you or bow.”
Arthur looked suitably revolted by the idea, and Merlin decided his lover’s imminent death could be put off by another week or so. “Curtsey or bow?” Merlin nodded. “Tell them neither. I’d much rather have full prostration.”
Merlin’s short burst of laughter was just a little unwilling. “Shut up.”
Arthur paused for a second, then said awkwardly, “I, er. I’ve just been talking to my father.” Merlin, in the middle of standing, raised an eyebrow at him.
“Oh?”
“He wants to postpone the wedding.” Arthur’s tone was just a little worried, and Merlin frowned.
“So?”
“He says he wants to - make sure. That you’re - you know.”
Merlin gave a short, unamused bark of laughter. “Right. Because I’d make up something as insane as that.”
Arthur offered him a helpless shrug, but his words managed to inject a little humour into the conversation. “Merlin, it’s you. I honestly would not put it past you.”
Merlin’s grin was a little strained. “I didn’t make this up.”
“I know you didn’t,” Arthur reassured him quickly. “It’s just - my father...”
“Yes, I know,” Merlin nodded. “Well, if your father wants to delay, let him. It’s not as though it makes a huge amount of difference.”
“It’s just till you’re showing.” Arthur said as carelessly as he could, but neither of them could quite stop their flush.
“Oh,” Merlin considered this. “Do we, er. Do we know when that will be?”
Arthur shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable, and though he didn’t look down, his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere over Merlin’s right shoulder. “One of the new physicians,” Despite Merlin’s wishes to have Gaius look after him, Uther insisted on employing some of the best physicians in Albion - Merlin couldn’t help but wonder whether Uther was doing it to prevent Gaius conspiring with him, or whether he was just being contrary for kicks, because he certainly didn’t seem particularly concerned with Merlin’s health. “Said that it would be when you’re… well, when the baby is about three months old.”
“Three months?!” he repeated, surprised. “Your father’s willing to wait a month?” he frowned. “How is he planning to factor that into all his propaganda?”
“How should I know?” Arthur asked, and though Merlin would have liked to continue to question him - and would have continued to, before all this started - he was beginning to realise that there were battles he would never win, and shouldn’t even bother starting.
Instead, he simply sighed. “Fine. I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”
Arthur frowned mulishly. “It’s those damned physicians he hired. They’re so unconvinced that it could be true, they’ve convinced him of it.”
Merlin shrugged a little. “He’ll come round eventually,” he said quietly. “He’ll have to, because this - I’m not making this up. You know I’m not.” It sounded more like a question than he would have liked.
Arthur met his eyes dead on. “Of course I know,” he said firmly.
“Then, you know,” Merlin licked his lips, just a little nervously, “we should, er, t-talk about the baby. Because we haven’t much, yet. What are we going to call it?”
Arthur looked like he was going to be sick, and Merlin was certain the next thing that came out of his mouth would be an excuse to get himself out of the room, but then his - fiancé? - squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and said, “well, I suppose we should probably work out whether to call it ‘he’ or ‘she’. We can’t keep referring to the baby as ‘it’.”
“We can’t possibly know that yet,” Merlin pointed out. “We’ll just have to pick names for both. I was given a list of suitable names.”
“We’ll look through that soon,” Arthur promised, “and then make sure to pick something that isn’t on there.”
Merlin cracked a genuine smile at that. “They’re pretty bad,” he admitted. “I’m not calling any son of mine ‘Gerald’.”
“Names can wait,” Arthur told him, “at least a little while. Let’s not jinx this whole - thing.” He waved a hand futilely, trying to convey their whole insane situation. “My father will come round, you know that, right? Just as soon as we can prove that you’re pregnant.”
“And that’ll be so easy, with a king who hates magic and won’t let us use spells to prove it,” Merlin muttered, and Arthur didn’t reply, placing a hand on his shoulder instead.
“We’ll get through it,” he told him. “And until then, we’ve got some time on our hands. Any suggestions?”
Merlin grinned.
**
Part Four
**
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mpreg as a major plotpoint (er, THE plotpoint, really!), possible ooc-ness (*sigh* Sorry!) and a plot rushed enough to be a contender in the Grand Freakin' Prix.
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: I'm not very happy with this part; the fic seems to have lost it's Funny. The next part is even WORSE, because Merlin and Arthur won't cooperate, and their relationship won't go where I want it to and urgh. ^_^ Sorry. I'm not fishing for compliments - I'm just DEEPLY frustrated by this at the moment, but I'm sure that will pass. *smile* Things seem to be coming round, anyway!
On a different, far more positive note, thank you all so much for your lovely comments, I've been overwhelmed at the response this has had! I hope you all enjoy this part of it, despite my misgivings, and thank you all again for commenting and being so generally lovely. I think if I loved this show and its fandom any harder, I might just pass out. *grin*
**
Previous Parts:
Part One
Part Two
**
“Gaius is my mentor.” Merlin pointed out. “Of course he has to know, I tell him everything.”
“Did he know about your magic?” Arthur asked, rather jealously.
Merlin just raised an eyebrow at him, and it took all of Arthur’s royal training not to flush. Of course Gaius knew, and now Arthur had just been caught acting jealous over Gaius. Merlin grinned at his expression and said easily, “well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to deal with this. How did this actually happen?”
“Two things,” Arthur said, realisation a cold trickle down his spine. Merlin raised a questioning eyebrow at him, and he swallowed. “If we do manage to convince my father of this… you do know he’ll probably make me marry you, right?”
**
Merlin stared at him, horror-struck. In all honesty, that possibility had never crossed his mind, and for a moment, he considered just ignoring it. But that would be cowardly, and Merlin was many things, but he could never be accused of cowardice. Finally, he shook his head. “He might not?” he suggested weakly. “After all, you marrying me isn’t going to benefit Camelot at all, is it? No new alliances, no peace treaty with another country…”
“Well, don’t sound so hopeful,” Arthur replied tartly.
“It’s not that!” Merlin hurried to say. “But marrying me - a servant, not even a noble - isn’t useful. What do you get out of it?”
“My father is the one who wants something for Camelot to come out of my marriage,” Arthur said rather stiffly. “I’ve never wanted anything but to marry for the same kind of,” he paused momentarily, wary of giving too much away, “affection that my parents shared.” Merlin looked somewhat taken aback, and Arthur was quick to press his advantage. “And of course my father is desperate for an heir to secure the succession. If we can convince him that this child is mine, then he will be the most vocal advocate for a marriage between us, to legitimise it.”
“There is that, I suppose.” Merlin agreed. He really hadn’t meant it to sound so despondent, especially not since Arthur had for the first time admitted that there was more between them than Merlin had ever allowed himself to hope. Quickly, he recovered himself. “All I mean is - I can just leave Camelot? It’s easy enough for me to disappear. All of this can go away so easily for you - it’s not like anyone would look for me, is it?”
Arthur managed to internalise the horror he felt at that suggestion. “Shut up, Merlin,” he said brusquely, and Merlin grinned. Apparently, for all its brutality, that was exactly the response the he’d been hoping for.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves, anyway,” he said firmly. “We have to convince your father that this isn’t some devil-child first, and that’s not going to be easy. But if - if - we can, then - well, like you said, the King wants an heir to the throne after you. You’ll wake up one morning to find that you haven’t shamefully knocked up some male servant, but that the Pendragon genes are so strong they can even get men with child.”
Arthur snorted at that, and nodded reluctantly, though it didn’t feel as though the conversation was really closed. “Then I suppose the real question is - how the hell did this happen?”
Merlin shrugged. “Got me.”
**
At a loss for any further answers, they headed back down to Gaius’ rooms, and petitioned him for ideas - that is, Merlin asked Gaius whether he knew what was ‘wrong with him’, and Arthur loomed behind him, trying to maintain a regal air while simultaneously trying to suppress his intense curiosity.
Shock and disbelief would come later. For now, he just wanted to know how the hell this had happened.
“Truly?” Gaius shut the enormous tome he was looking through, and waved away a little of the resulting dust. “I don’t know. The most I can guess is that the oestrogen content in your blood is higher than in most males, which may have predisposed you towards this.”
Merlin frowned, and shook his head. “Oestrogen?”
Gaius’ expression became slightly patronising, mixed with a little old fashioned condescension. Merlin recognised the expression from Arthur, and shuddered. “It’s what we scientists call a ‘hormone’. We all have it, but it’s found in greater amounts in women - hence the menstrual cycle.”
Merlin considered asking what on earth the ‘menstrual cycle’ was when it was at home, then decided that he probably didn’t want to know. “So - I have this female… hormone, was it?”
“I think so.” Gaius nodded. “I suspect that, combined with a little…” he tailed off, glancing at Arthur, who simply raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin hurried to fill in the gaps.
“Oh, he knows about… all that.” He made the vague wiggly gestures with his fingers that Arthur had made earlier, and Gaius gave him a rather disapproving look but nodded.
“Well then, that’s one less worry, I suppose,” his tone was bone dry. “I suspect that this higher oestrogen content, combined with a little magic, did the job by itself. No one has ever had magic like you, Merlin; I doubt there’s anything it can’t do instinctively. It may have sensed a desire for children in you, and simply done the rest itself, egged on by the oestrogen in your blood.”
Merlin glanced at Arthur. “It would make sense,” he pointed out quietly. “T was when the King gave you that talk about Camelot needing an heir. I suppose it just… my magic,” he lowered his voice just as Gaius had done earlier, “translated that as me wanting to give you an heir. And it… did this. With the help of that girly east-ro-jen thing.”
“Oestrogen, Merlin. And it didn’t help, I suspect, so much as it simply - tipped the scales,” Gaius corrected punctiliously.
Arthur, sensing Merlin’s desire to change the subject, broke in with a sententious nod. “I’ve always said you were a girl, haven’t I?” he said, and Merlin shot him a vicious glare.
“I can tell you’re going to be oh-so-supportive during all this,” he said, sarcastically, and Arthur simply shrugged.
“I don’t have to be supportive - I have servants to do that for me.” Merlin’s glare stepped it up a couple of notches and became genuinely poisonous.
He opened his mouth to respond, but Gaius got there first. “If you two have quite finished?” he asked disapprovingly. “Your Highness, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that your father will be less than pleased by this. The whole situation is quite obviously magical, and Merlin’s life hangs in the balance.”
“When you put it that way, the whole thing does seem a little less funny,” Merlin muttered under his breath, and Arthur smiled, but muttered back,
“To you, maybe. To me, it’s still hilarious.” His smile didn’t survive Merlin treading heavily on his foot.
Gaius was watching them both, eyebrow firmly raised. “You have to decide whether you want to tell your father, or whether you would rather Merlin-”
Arthur interrupted him quickly. “Merlin and I have come up with a basic plan, but we would, of course, welcome your input.” Nothing like charming the pseudo-in-laws, even if he had started a little late in the game.
Gaius paused very briefly. “And what is this plan?” he asked carefully. Arthur outlined it for him and he nodded slowly. “It has merit. Hopefully, Uther is unlikely to punish the hapless victim of a spell designed to ruin the Pendragon line.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s all sorted,” Merlin said with false brightness. “So, I suppose the only remaining question is whether or not I should wear white?”
**
Arthur’s conversation with Uther was every bit as painful as he had expected - “When I said you had to provide an heir, I didn’t mean you should pervert the laws of nature to do so!” However, once his father had calmed down enough to listen to their carefully prepared story, he was a little more reasonable - he did at least stop thinking up new, even more painful ways to kill Merlin, which was a good thing from Arthur’s point of view.
“You’re certain this servant is pregnant? He isn’t simply ill?” he said finally, sounding a little desperate.
“Quite certain, Father,” Arthur told him firmly. Wouldn’t that be convenient? he thought grimly. Then they could all forget this ever happened. “The physician has examined him, and says he is definitely - expecting.”
“Good God,” Uther said faintly, and Arthur agreed whole-heartedly, if silently. “And we’re sure the child is - human?”
Arthur flinched a little. “Evidently, it wouldn’t have been created without the aid of magic,” he watched, with some satisfaction, as his father himself flinched at that, “but since the spell doesn’t seem to have been designed to impregnate the boy,” Merlin would be furious at hearing himself described like that, he thought, “There’s no reason to expect otherwise.”
“And are the effects of this spell permanent?” Uther hedged.
Arthur considered this, and wished they had thought of an answer to this before he came in here. Deciding the best lie was one mixed with a healthy degree of truth, he shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it, Father,” he said, deliberately careless. “I suppose it’s possible. Presumably, the spell’s effects on me would have been permanent, there’s no reason to think that they will be temporary on Merlin.”
Uther seemed resigned, but he did make one last ditch attempt. “I know this was only a temporary dalliance for you, Arthur,” he said kindly, and Arthur had to fight to make sure his father didn’t know how laughable he found the idea of Merlin being in any way temporary. Sometimes it felt like the other boy had managed to write himself into every part of Arthur’s life. “If you would prefer a different alliance, we can have him… disposed of.”
Arthur managed to slow his reaction down from the instinctive cry of ‘no’ he wanted to give. Shaking his head slowly, he shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s not as valuable a match as we might have hoped,” You might have hoped, Father, his treacherous mind whispered to itself, “but Camelot will have an heir and the succession is assured. That is surely worth a - less valuable match.”
His father nodded, satisfied. “Well, it is a shame,” he agreed, “But as you say, there is nothing to be done about it, and Camelot will be safe for another generation - provided this is a boy.”
“If it’s not, we will simply have to find out if this spell is permanent,” Arthur said as coolly as he could. It was difficult to believe that he was getting the one thing he had hoped for for so long, and yet was having to talk about it as though it were a disadvantage of some kind.
Uther glanced at him. “If it’s not, it’s easy enough to have the marriage set aside in favour of someone more - suitable.” Arthur inclined his head calmly and desperately hoped that the baby would be a boy. They stood in awkward silence for a few long moments, before Uther dismissed him. “I need to call a meeting of the Council to work out a strategy for this - interesting occurence.”
Arthur’s elation at having carried the whole thing off was more than enough to cushion him against his father’s habitual dryness.
**
In fact, his elation lasted him all the way back to his rooms, where he found Merlin waiting for him.
“How did it go?” the darker boy asked, and that was when everything really hit Arthur. Until now, the whole thing had seemed a little surreal and other-worldly. It hadn’t really been happening to him. But now…
“You’re having a baby,” he said dully, still trying to wrap his head around it. “We’re getting married, and then you’re going to be having a baby.”
Merlin gave him a strange look, until he processed exactly what Arthur had said. “Your father isn’t going to have me killed?” he asked tentatively, and Arthur swallowed, shaking his head.
“No. Though he did offer, if I wanted someone else.”
“I take it you said no?” Merlin raised an eyebrow, secure in the answer.
“I think if I had said yes, you would already be dead.” Arthur said, a little of his standard sarcasm returning. “But don’t get too confident, there’s still time for me to change my mind.”
Merlin glared at him. “Just you dare, and I’ll show you just what I can really do with all this magic.”
Arthur raised an insouciant eyebrow at him. “Don’t get too angry, dear - it’s bad for the baby.”
“Have I told you recently that I really, really hate you?”
**
After that, everything moved with bewildering swiftness, for Merlin at least. He was taken to see Uther - which was an exercise in being as terrified as possible while sounding as respectful as he could - and was removed from his rooms in Gaius’ apartments to a suite of his own, adjoining Arthur’s. He was measured for ‘newer, better’ clothes, and he had only a few moments here and there to explain everything to his friends among the servants, Gwen in particular. By the time he’d finished his hurried explanation, she looked as bewildered as ever, but nodded and smiled with every appearance of understanding. With a sigh, Merlin asked Morgana if she would explain things to her handmaid, and the girl gave him a look which made him squirm - a wholly unexpected mix of surprise and approval.
To his own surprise, Morgana proved to be invaluable in the first couple of weeks of the transition. He didn’t attend any official functions, but she made sure to stay close to him whenever he was in public, or politely ‘requested’ to attend court, muttering instructions under her breath. Her instructions were a lot easier to follow than the etiquette masters, at whose mercy Merlin found himself every morning for three hours, and with a mixture of her advice and sheer grim determination, he survived the first three weeks or so well enough.
Merlin found himself left surprisingly alone for those weeks. The King and his council were clearly attempting to get a handle on the situation as a whole, and neither Merlin nor Arthur were required - which was both a relief and a worry. Merlin, divided between the physicians who had been assigned to him, his daily instruction in etiquette, fittings for clothes, and the sheer, overwhelming bewilderment of it all, had little time to think about it, but it bothered him in his few free moments, and he knew it was worrying Arthur, despite seeing him, as he remarked bitterly to Gaius in the brief moments when he saw him, once in a blue moon.
It hardly helped that there was an alarming amount of propaganda flying around about the whole thing, and Merlin was amused to hear the same myth he had mentioned in jest to Arthur, about the strong Pendragon genes. In addition to that, though, Uther had had the union declared throughout the land as an example of just how high an ‘ordinary man or woman of Albion’ could rise off their own merit. Merlin rather thought that calling a man getting knocked up “his own merit” was somewhere between a farce and an insult, but didn’t feel he was in any position to comment.
The worst thing about the whole debacle, however, was really that he barely ever saw Arthur now. Although he knew it was ungrateful, he would rather have been the Prince’s servant than never see him at all.
He did his best never to think about the baby at all. He had lists of names for it, a selection of godparents, and some of the best advisors in the land, all talking to him about the poor thing, but he couldn’t quite believe it. Things like this - babies - weren’t supposed to happen to him. What if he did it wrong? He couldn’t be responsible for someone else’s life, not when it was already his job to keep Arthur alive, and when he was less than convinced he could keep himself alive. The last thing he wanted to do was raise a psychopath and then put it on the throne.
Thankfully, just as everything seemed to be spinning out of control, Arthur himself called a halt to it.
Merlin was in the middle of being talked at by his etiquette teachers - a whole new brand of etiquette had to be created for him; no one had banked on there being another Prince rather than a new, biddable Princess from another land who would be only-too-glad to follow their instructions and so-grateful for whatever attention Arthur chose to bestow upon her - when Arthur himself strode into the room with a face like thunder.
“Enough,” he snapped at the teachers. “Out.”
“Your Highness-”
“I said out.” Arthur’s voice was very hard, and Merlin wasn’t certain that even he would have dared to contradict it. The tutors left without another word.
“This is ridiculous,” Arthur told him firmly, and Merlin shrugged.
“You’re not going to get any arguments from me,” he said. “I haven’t seen Gaius for over a week, I barely see you, and I’ve just been at the centre of an argument over whether I should curtsey to you or bow.”
Arthur looked suitably revolted by the idea, and Merlin decided his lover’s imminent death could be put off by another week or so. “Curtsey or bow?” Merlin nodded. “Tell them neither. I’d much rather have full prostration.”
Merlin’s short burst of laughter was just a little unwilling. “Shut up.”
Arthur paused for a second, then said awkwardly, “I, er. I’ve just been talking to my father.” Merlin, in the middle of standing, raised an eyebrow at him.
“Oh?”
“He wants to postpone the wedding.” Arthur’s tone was just a little worried, and Merlin frowned.
“So?”
“He says he wants to - make sure. That you’re - you know.”
Merlin gave a short, unamused bark of laughter. “Right. Because I’d make up something as insane as that.”
Arthur offered him a helpless shrug, but his words managed to inject a little humour into the conversation. “Merlin, it’s you. I honestly would not put it past you.”
Merlin’s grin was a little strained. “I didn’t make this up.”
“I know you didn’t,” Arthur reassured him quickly. “It’s just - my father...”
“Yes, I know,” Merlin nodded. “Well, if your father wants to delay, let him. It’s not as though it makes a huge amount of difference.”
“It’s just till you’re showing.” Arthur said as carelessly as he could, but neither of them could quite stop their flush.
“Oh,” Merlin considered this. “Do we, er. Do we know when that will be?”
Arthur shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable, and though he didn’t look down, his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere over Merlin’s right shoulder. “One of the new physicians,” Despite Merlin’s wishes to have Gaius look after him, Uther insisted on employing some of the best physicians in Albion - Merlin couldn’t help but wonder whether Uther was doing it to prevent Gaius conspiring with him, or whether he was just being contrary for kicks, because he certainly didn’t seem particularly concerned with Merlin’s health. “Said that it would be when you’re… well, when the baby is about three months old.”
“Three months?!” he repeated, surprised. “Your father’s willing to wait a month?” he frowned. “How is he planning to factor that into all his propaganda?”
“How should I know?” Arthur asked, and though Merlin would have liked to continue to question him - and would have continued to, before all this started - he was beginning to realise that there were battles he would never win, and shouldn’t even bother starting.
Instead, he simply sighed. “Fine. I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”
Arthur frowned mulishly. “It’s those damned physicians he hired. They’re so unconvinced that it could be true, they’ve convinced him of it.”
Merlin shrugged a little. “He’ll come round eventually,” he said quietly. “He’ll have to, because this - I’m not making this up. You know I’m not.” It sounded more like a question than he would have liked.
Arthur met his eyes dead on. “Of course I know,” he said firmly.
“Then, you know,” Merlin licked his lips, just a little nervously, “we should, er, t-talk about the baby. Because we haven’t much, yet. What are we going to call it?”
Arthur looked like he was going to be sick, and Merlin was certain the next thing that came out of his mouth would be an excuse to get himself out of the room, but then his - fiancé? - squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and said, “well, I suppose we should probably work out whether to call it ‘he’ or ‘she’. We can’t keep referring to the baby as ‘it’.”
“We can’t possibly know that yet,” Merlin pointed out. “We’ll just have to pick names for both. I was given a list of suitable names.”
“We’ll look through that soon,” Arthur promised, “and then make sure to pick something that isn’t on there.”
Merlin cracked a genuine smile at that. “They’re pretty bad,” he admitted. “I’m not calling any son of mine ‘Gerald’.”
“Names can wait,” Arthur told him, “at least a little while. Let’s not jinx this whole - thing.” He waved a hand futilely, trying to convey their whole insane situation. “My father will come round, you know that, right? Just as soon as we can prove that you’re pregnant.”
“And that’ll be so easy, with a king who hates magic and won’t let us use spells to prove it,” Merlin muttered, and Arthur didn’t reply, placing a hand on his shoulder instead.
“We’ll get through it,” he told him. “And until then, we’ve got some time on our hands. Any suggestions?”
Merlin grinned.
**
Part Four
**