Magic, Marriage and Mayhem, Part 8
Title: Magic, Marriage and Mayhem
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mpreg as a major plotpoint, unabashed fluff, and a little - a very little - swearing. The two of them are being very fluffy this chapter, and it’s something of a filler chapter, but it’s setting up the plot for the rest of the story.
Summary: Uther warns Arthur about his dalliance with his servant, and reminds him that Camelot will need an heir. Well, it looks like that's not a problem any more...
AN: A big shout-out to this fic's family. ^_^ Thanks and adoration likewise go to the fantasticallysyphilitic wonderful 
phantomjam who looked through it for me; she is amazing. And also, huge apologies for the delay in this chapter (does anyone even still remember this thing?!); hopefully the next will come a bit quicker!
All feedback goes to a warm and loving home. *g*
**
Previous Parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
**
“I thought you were feeling nauseous?” Arthur asked, suspiciously.
“Well, I didn’t feel too good about getting back up onto that horse, no.” Merlin’s grin just widened. “And I think I’ve got the hang of mounting and dismounting now.”
“I’m never going to trust you ag-oof.” Merlin pulled Arthur down against the tree, and sat himself firmly in his lap. “Merlin, what are you-” A kiss shut him up, and it only took him a couple of seconds to adjust to this new turn of events. Snaking one hand up into his lover’s hair, and wrapping the other round his waist, he pulled Merlin even closer to him.
When they finally broke the kiss, Arthur rested his head against Merlin’s still-too-bony shoulder, and took a deep breath. “You know, Merlin,” he said, very quietly. “Sometimes, I think I might love you.”
**
Merlin considered that in silence for a moment, then grinned. “Only sometimes?”
Arthur looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t push your luck, you’re a difficult bastard half the time.”
“Yeah, but you love me for the rest of the time.” Merlin said smugly, then hesitated. “Though, you know. When you’re not being a prat, I suppose I love you too. It’s hard, what with you being a prat most of the time, but-”
“Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around.” Arthur sighed, relieved that his spur-of-the-moment admission hadn’t been rejected and hadn’t made things far too serious; he couldn’t have dealt with either of them. Talking about feelings, for both of them, was something best done either under extreme duress or when drunk; being able to skirt round things this easily and get everything that needed to be said out in the open was nothing short of miraculous.
“Yeah, but sometimes you love me,” And yes, Merlin really was being insufferably smug about this whole thing. “They balance each other out.”
"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur said calmly, leaning back against the tree, hands resting on Merlin’s hips while he watched his face through half-lidded eyes. "You know most of the time I only tolerate you for the sex.”
“Right, of course.” He smiled, shifting off Arthur and settling himself down next to him against the tree; he was immediately pulled against his side. For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, Arthur's hand warm at Merlin's waist, before Arthur spoke up almost unwillingly, voice relaxed.
"We should start thinking of some names, you know." He said, slowly.
"Mmm."
"They'll have to be approved."
"Mmm." Merlin's head was a warm weight on Arthur's shoulder.
"But we should be able to settle on something we like."
"Mmm."
Arthur glanced down at his. "You know, Merlin," he said, conversationally. "I don't think you're taking this seriously enough."
"Nonsense." Merlin said, sleepily. "It's very serious. Names. Have to be approved."
"Well done." Arthur said, mock-encouraging. "You're really working to overcome that mental problem, aren't you?"
"Shu' up."
"So," Arthur continued, undeterred. "Any favourites?"
"I was thinking, Mordred for a boy, Vivien for a girl." Merlin said, his voice sliding heavily over the words.
Arthur sat up, dislodging Merlin from his comfortable position at Arthur's side."'More-dread'?!" he said, incredulously. "Merlin, I know you're not delighted about this, but honestly..."
"Not More-dread, you great prat, Mordred." Merlin said, rather sharply; evidently he wasn’t happy about being jolted so rudely out of his near-sleep. "And Vivien was my grandmother's name."
Arthur floundered for a bit, unsure of where to start. "Why Mordred?" he blurted out, eventually, and restrained his sigh. It was as good a place as any to start.
Merlin settled back down, placing his head back on Arthur's shoulder just firmly enough that Arthur knew that, should he try moving again, retribution would be swift. "Why not?" he countered. Arthur stayed silent. "Oh, fine. It sounds a bit," his voice changed a little. "A bit like destiny." he said, slowly. "A safe destiny."
"I refuse to name a child because the name sounds like a safe destiny." Arthur said, firmly, refusing to admit that shivers had gone down his spine at the sound of Merlin’s voice; for a moment there, he hadn’t sounded like Merlin at all. "It's a rubbish reason." Merlin shrugged; apparently he hadn't been too set on that one, which was a relief. "And - Princess Vivien?"
"Oh, fine, then." Merlin said, sleepy and agreeable; perhaps Arthur should make sure he was always like this. It would make life much simpler - but much less interesting too. Maybe he could only drug him for the really important occasions; coronations and big feasts and so on. And for fun, occasionally. "What names do you want?" Merlin was asking, though, and Arthur came back to the moment.
"Well, maybe - Godric for a boy, Rowena for a girl." He suggested.
Blue eyes stared up at him, incredulously. Arthur refused to meet them. "It amazes me that you could possibly think 'Vivien' was a bad name, and then suggest something like 'Rowena'." He said, flatly.
"Vivien has no ring of nobility." Arthur said, stiffly.
"And Rowena has no ring of sanity." Merlin countered.
"It's an old family name!"
"So's Vivien!"
"Maybe we should just avoid old family names altogether." Arthur said, quickly, and Merlin nodded, hastily. "So... how about Helga?" There was no very friendly look in Merlin's eyes, and Arthur amended that one quickly. "Or not. Any other suggestions from you?"
"Will for a boy?" Merlin suggested very quietly, and Arthur stiffened. "Sorry. It was a silly idea."
"It could be a middle name?" He compromised. “William’s a good strong name for a prince.”
"OK." Merlin said, but the sad, wistful look was still on his face, and Arthur just wanted to get rid of it.
"He, er..." He thought for a moment, then recycled one of the lines he'd heard so regularly when he'd been old enough to understand that he should mourn his mother. "He wouldn't want you to be unhappy. Not now."
Merlin looked up at him again, a smile starting. "Rubbish. He'd have thought this whole - well - thing - the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He'd have made my life hell."
"If I’d known that that's what you wanted," Arthur grinned back, happy that Merlin was looking less unhappy, "I'd have happily seen to it myself."
"Oh, I know you would." A brief moment of silence. "You know..." he added, slowly. "I still need to tell my mother."
"Maybe she should come here in person." Arthur suggested. "We'd be only too happy to have her..."
"I'm not sure she'd be happy to come." Merlin admitted. "I should probably go to E-"
"No." Arthur vetoed that one immediately. "Out of the question."
"Look, Arthur-"
"The whole country knows what's happened here." Arthur said, firmly. "And you’re carrying the future heir to Camelot. D'you really think you can just stroll across it without being in danger? D'you think anyone in the palace would let you?!"
Merlin looked mutinous for a moment, but after holding Arthur's gaze for a moment. "Fine." He subsided, but the warm, comfortable mood had gone.
"We'll ask her here." He said, trying to be conciliatory, but Merlin just nodded. "Anyway. We still have the problem of a first name."
"How about Bran?" Merlin suggested, listlessly. “That shouldn’t hurt anyone’s feelings. Or sensibilities.”
Arthur seized upon the wholly unobjectionable name with both hands, nodding enthusiastically. "I like it." he nodded. "Good, strong name."
"Better than Will?" Merlin sniped, but it came out rather half-hearted.
"You wouldn't like it if I demanded we call it 'Sophia', if it was a girl." Arthur objected.
"Sophia was a black-hearted witch." Merlin said, fiercely. "And Will was a good friend."
"He was a sorce- oh. Oh."
"Yes." Merlin stood, walking over to the horses, but making no move to mount up. "'Oh'."
"Look, Merlin..." he said, gently, following him over. "I'm sorry, really. I didn't think. But... I know he was a good friend," he actively had to fight to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "And you miss him, but - I don't want him to be the first thing either of us think of when we look at..."
"I know." Merlin muttered. "I do. I know he's got nothing to do with this,"
"I bloody hope he doesn't." Arthur interjected, and one corner of Merlin's mouth twitched upwards.
"But - I can't help missing him." He looked up at Arthur again. “I guess naming this baby after him would make it feel a bit like I had something real of him with me.”
“Merlin...” Arthur said rather helplessly; he was useless in situations like these, “It’s not his baby. Giving it his name isn’t going to help. Of course we can if you really want, but... I don’t see what good it’s going to do except torture you every time you look at our son.”
He nodded wordlessly, and cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, of course. I – yes.” Without looking up, he turned back to his horse. “Maybe we should - head back to the castle.”
Arthur frowned; things had been going so well up till this moment, and he didn't have any idea of how to fix it now that it had gone wrong. Dammit, he loved Merlin, he’d just said so, and he couldn’t even make something this small better for him. “If you want.” He said, simply, but Merlin flinched anyway.
"I don't mind."
But he evidently didn't want to stay here any longer. And if Arthur didn't know how to fix the ruined moment, the least he could do was give Merlin what he wanted. "Let's go back." He sighed, and went to un-tether the horses.
They made the ride back to the castle in almost complete silence, Arthur breaking it occasionally to correct some part of Merlin’s riding, far more gently than he had on the way out. It was almost amusing, he thought tiredly, that he could only be affectionate towards Merlin when things were awkward between them. Mostly, though, he just wished he knew what had just happened. If it had been a fight, he would have understood, and known how to react – but it hadn’t been a fight, at all. Merlin wasn’t angry at him, they hadn’t been snapping at each other, but somehow, somewhere along the line he’d made Merlin miserable, and he didn’t know how to unsay whatever it was that had hurt him.
The problem was, Merlin didn’t act like any of his other lovers had when they’d been angry with him. They got cross and often coquettish, unable to get really angry with the Prince, the man they thought of as their future ruler. Everyone else he’d ever been with – and it wasn’t exactly an exhaustive list, most people never made it past a quick tumble with the Prince – had had one eye on the future, one eye on the person Arthur would be rather than the person he was at that moment. Merlin, by contrast, couldn’t have cared less what Arthur would be, except for making sure that he was good at it. So he had absolutely no problems with getting angry at him, shouting at him, pointing out where he’d gone wrong as loudly as it took for Arthur to hear him.
But Merlin wasn’t angry with him at the moment; he was hurting, and it wasn’t even Arthur’s fault. What was Arthur supposed to do in a situation like this?
In lieu of any actual ideas, he let the silence drag on to the point where it would have been more awkward to break it than to leave it alone, and Merlin himself didn’t seem to mind letting it continue. They rode into the stable yard without having exchanged more than the most cursory of conversation.
Arthur waved the stable hands away, remembering their attitude to Merlin all too clearly, and untacked their horses himself while Merlin fetched water and brushes. Arthur took the buckets off him, but the imprecation about carrying heavy things died before Arthur even took breath to make it. Merlin would hardly welcome it.
It was only when the tack had been placed ready for cleaning and they were halfway through brushing the horses that Arthur broke the silence, glancing around to make sure that they were alone.
“Look – Merlin... I’m sorry.” He said stiltedly. An apology was always the best way to go, surely? “I didn’t mean to – upset you, or anything. I just don’t like the idea of our son being named after a past lover of yours.”
Merlin turned to him with a frown. “A past lover? He’s – Will wasn’t, we never – he was a friend, Arthur!”
Arthur flushed. “Well then, I’m sorry,” he apologised again rather stiffly, “I evidently mistook things.”
“Evidently!” Arthur half expected Merlin to storm off at that, but in fact he simply turned back to his horse, giving it a few more strokes with the brush before saying lowly, “I wouldn’t like it if you insisted on calling the baby after another – after a friend of yours,” he said, softly. “We’ll come up with another name, one we both like. Not one we agreed on so we weren’t fighting over it. After all, we’ve got months to think about it.” He patted the horse and let himself out of its stall, leaning against the door by Arthur’s.
“Remember that the names have to be approved by the council,” Arthur reminded him reluctantly.
Merlin frowned again, evidently frustrated. “This should be a wonderful, private,” a flash of humour, “slightly strange event, and we’re having to check every step of the way with people it has nothing to do with.”
Arthur, in a rare moment of sensitivity, patted his arm awkwardly. “Maybe it won’t feel so strange with your mother here?” he asked, returning to his grooming.
“Don’t be silly, I’m pregnant,” Merlin pointed out, some of the warmth and humour returning to his voice, “That’s never not going to feel strange.”
“I’m not sure I followed that,” Arthur admitted with a grin, relieved that the mood had finally taken a turn for the better. “Are you sure you don’t mind not being able to go to her?”
Merlin sighed. “Oh, I mind plenty,” he said, shifting a little, “But I’m not going to sulk over it like a child. Some of us learnt not to do that.”
“Watch your tongue, peasant,” Arthur returned loftily, and just laughed when Merlin stuck his tongue out at him. “Oh, yes. I can see you’ve really got a handle on being an adult.”
“Shut up,” Merlin said, comfortably. “I can’t be childish when I’m going to have to be a role model for a child all too soon. Something you’d best remember, Arthur, dearheart.”
For a moment, Arthur stared at him, revolted, then shook his head. “Please promise never to call me that again,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Merlin said blithely, turning away as Arthur finished up grooming his own horse and left the stall, “I’ll save it for those really special occasions. Your coronation, maybe.”
Arthur followed him, “Do it, and I’ll put you in the stocks; don’t think being my consort will stop me.”
“I’d hate to think it did,” Merlin grinned, but it didn’t last long. “God knows it’s going to change enough things without it changing that.”
“What do you mean?”
Merlin glanced at him, “Well, you know. I was just getting a handle on my duties and rights as your manservant, and suddenly I’m expected to be in charge of banquets and alms-giving and all the rest of it?” He shook his head, “I’m better at receiving alms than giving them, Arthur.”
“I didn’t think your lord was much interested in giving alms?” Arthur asked, frowning. “He didn’t care that Kanen was ransacking the village...?”
“Figure of speech,” Merlin shrugged, “I just meant – how am I supposed to look people in the eye and treat them like – like peasants, when I’m more one of them than one of you?”
Arthur considered it for a moment. “Well then,” he said reasonably, “Don’t treat them like peasants.” Merlin stared at him. “I think – a little blurring of the lines might not be such a bad thing.”
For a moment, Merlin’s face was completely still, his expression blank and shocked; then he smiled. “You’re going to be a great King,” he said warmly, “I’ll be honoured to be at your side.”
Arthur flushed, knowing he should say something equally warm in return, but unable to get his head and tongue round the words, “Well,” he coughed, “So far you’ve been markedly less useless than I thought you were going to be.”
Somehow, Merlin was alright with that, and he just laughed. “Thank you,” he grinned, “From you, I’ll have to take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one,” Arthur muttered, and Merlin’s grin softened a little.
“I know,” he agreed, reaching out and clasping Arthur’s shoulder momentarily, before letting to and turning to look up at the castle. “We should – we should head back in,” he added reluctantly, “I’m sure I’ve kept you from your duties long enough.”
“It was worth it,” Arthur said gruffly, and was surprised to find that it was, despite the awkward silence and the fight-that-wasn’t; somehow, he felt more at ease with Merlin now than he had before, and though he wasn’t sure how that had come about, he was grateful for it nonetheless.
“Yes, it was good,” Merlin agreed, hearing the words that Arthur wasn’t going to say; and maybe Morgana was right when she said they were meant for each other, even if it did sound like one of those ridiculous ballads that Arthur never listened to, “So what are your duties for the rest of the afternoon?”
They started up the long, sweeping staircase which lead to the main castle entrance, and Arthur paused a moment, thinking through his tasks for the afternoon, “I’m going to look through the reports from the Southern Farthing,” he said quietly, “They’ve been having some problems with bandits, and it might be worth sending some of the infantry out; which is part of the reason I’ll be joining Father later for his meeting with the Council. He’s negotiating with them for more infantry.”
“Negotiations?” Merlin frowned, “Doesn’t he just – you know. Tell them?”
Arthur kept his eyes firmly ahead as their private moment slipped away. Merlin’s naivety was touching to him, but would be nothing more than a weakness to most members of the court – and Arthur was damned if he’d see Merlin’s goodwill manipulated by anybody. He hated having to do it, but tarnishing some of that faith in human nature was for the best. “All the most powerful families in the land have a representative in the King’s Council.” He explained, “Not because they’re good or intelligent, but because not including them would be seen as a horrific insult; they fought with my father and put him on the throne. His position is only as strong as the support of his nobles, and he can’t be seen to slight any of them.”
Merlin was still frowning. “That’s wrong.” He said, frankly, “A King should depend on the support of his people.”
“We all know why that’s not possible,” Arthur said, his voice very low and hushed.
“Camelot would have been ready to adore him,” Merlin said, lowering his own voice, “Had he not started on his campaign to stamp out all the magic in the land.”
Maybe Merlin wasn’t as naive as he’d thought. “Maybe.” He agreed warily.
“Definitely.” Merlin corrected, “And they’ll love you if they see you as hope for the future.”
“Merlin, talking like this is treason-”
“Rubbish,” he said, “I’m not plotting to kill the King, and I hope for your sake he lives a long and happy life, and dies peacefully in his sleep-”
“Oh, thank you.” Arthur said sarcastically.
“I’m just saying that eventually he will die, and pass on the crown. To you.”
“And from there to Baby Me.”
“Baby Me, actually,” Merlin said placidly, apparently willing to be teased back into a good mood.
“Nonsense, I’m the Prince. Everyone will fall over themselves to say how much it takes after me.”
“And I’m the one with pregnancy hormones and a tendency to cry,” Merlin returned smugly, “No one will want to upset the – er – father of the heir.”
“Mother,” Arthur contradicted, with equal smugness.
“Shut up, Arthur.” He gave him a Look, and turned away, “Or I’ll show you just how readily available those pregnancy hormones really are.”
“You haven’t cried much yet, though, have you?” Arthur said thoughtfully. “I thought all woman – and, er, you,” Merlin’s glare was half-hearted at best, “Were always crying during their pregnancies.”
“You obviously haven’t spent a lot of time around pregnant women,” Merlin teased gently, but Arthur just shrugged. “They cry a fair bit. Though, things were different back in Ealdor – you couldn’t take things easy for a little thing like a baby. Not when it might not live, anyway.”
Arthur shuddered. “And you were planning to return there to have our baby? Sometimes I wonder whether you really do have a mental problem, Merlin. Here’s hoping you don’t pass that on to this poor child.”
“Well,” Merlin considered this, apparently in earnest for a couple of minutes, “Gaius says he doesn’t think it’s likely. And I was miserable here, Arthur; I can understand why the women here cry when they’re pregnant if that’s what they’re going through.”
“So,” Arthur wasn’t ready to deal with that and dragged the conversation ruthlessly back to its initial point, “Why aren’t you crying all the time at the moment?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Merlin shrugged. “I was planning to ask Gaius. He asked me to come by sometime this afternoon, when he’s prepared that tea for me – the one that should help with the sickness. It’s handy, I have questions for him.”
“Mmm.” Arthur nodded, “Tell me what he says, would you?”
“Of course,” Merlin agreed. “I hope the meeting with the councillors goes well.”
“I doubt it will,” Arthur sighed heavily, “but thanks for the thought. Good luck with Gaius.”
“Thank you – I think I’ll need it.” Merlin grinned, and, greatly daring, pressed a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Arthur half-nodded in reply to that, and though he knew he was being a sap, he watched, one hand on the handle of his door, until Merlin was out of sight. Yes – things were going to be tough. But hopefully, between them, they’d be able to make them bearable.
**
Part Nine
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mpreg as a major plotpoint, unabashed fluff, and a little - a very little - swearing. The two of them are being very fluffy this chapter, and it’s something of a filler chapter, but it’s setting up the plot for the rest of the story.
Summary: Uther warns Arthur about his dalliance with his servant, and reminds him that Camelot will need an heir. Well, it looks like that's not a problem any more...
AN: A big shout-out to this fic's family. ^_^ Thanks and adoration likewise go to the fantastically
phantomjam who looked through it for me; she is amazing. And also, huge apologies for the delay in this chapter (does anyone even still remember this thing?!); hopefully the next will come a bit quicker!All feedback goes to a warm and loving home. *g*
**
Previous Parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
**
“I thought you were feeling nauseous?” Arthur asked, suspiciously.
“Well, I didn’t feel too good about getting back up onto that horse, no.” Merlin’s grin just widened. “And I think I’ve got the hang of mounting and dismounting now.”
“I’m never going to trust you ag-oof.” Merlin pulled Arthur down against the tree, and sat himself firmly in his lap. “Merlin, what are you-” A kiss shut him up, and it only took him a couple of seconds to adjust to this new turn of events. Snaking one hand up into his lover’s hair, and wrapping the other round his waist, he pulled Merlin even closer to him.
When they finally broke the kiss, Arthur rested his head against Merlin’s still-too-bony shoulder, and took a deep breath. “You know, Merlin,” he said, very quietly. “Sometimes, I think I might love you.”
**
Merlin considered that in silence for a moment, then grinned. “Only sometimes?”
Arthur looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t push your luck, you’re a difficult bastard half the time.”
“Yeah, but you love me for the rest of the time.” Merlin said smugly, then hesitated. “Though, you know. When you’re not being a prat, I suppose I love you too. It’s hard, what with you being a prat most of the time, but-”
“Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around.” Arthur sighed, relieved that his spur-of-the-moment admission hadn’t been rejected and hadn’t made things far too serious; he couldn’t have dealt with either of them. Talking about feelings, for both of them, was something best done either under extreme duress or when drunk; being able to skirt round things this easily and get everything that needed to be said out in the open was nothing short of miraculous.
“Yeah, but sometimes you love me,” And yes, Merlin really was being insufferably smug about this whole thing. “They balance each other out.”
"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur said calmly, leaning back against the tree, hands resting on Merlin’s hips while he watched his face through half-lidded eyes. "You know most of the time I only tolerate you for the sex.”
“Right, of course.” He smiled, shifting off Arthur and settling himself down next to him against the tree; he was immediately pulled against his side. For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, Arthur's hand warm at Merlin's waist, before Arthur spoke up almost unwillingly, voice relaxed.
"We should start thinking of some names, you know." He said, slowly.
"Mmm."
"They'll have to be approved."
"Mmm." Merlin's head was a warm weight on Arthur's shoulder.
"But we should be able to settle on something we like."
"Mmm."
Arthur glanced down at his. "You know, Merlin," he said, conversationally. "I don't think you're taking this seriously enough."
"Nonsense." Merlin said, sleepily. "It's very serious. Names. Have to be approved."
"Well done." Arthur said, mock-encouraging. "You're really working to overcome that mental problem, aren't you?"
"Shu' up."
"So," Arthur continued, undeterred. "Any favourites?"
"I was thinking, Mordred for a boy, Vivien for a girl." Merlin said, his voice sliding heavily over the words.
Arthur sat up, dislodging Merlin from his comfortable position at Arthur's side."'More-dread'?!" he said, incredulously. "Merlin, I know you're not delighted about this, but honestly..."
"Not More-dread, you great prat, Mordred." Merlin said, rather sharply; evidently he wasn’t happy about being jolted so rudely out of his near-sleep. "And Vivien was my grandmother's name."
Arthur floundered for a bit, unsure of where to start. "Why Mordred?" he blurted out, eventually, and restrained his sigh. It was as good a place as any to start.
Merlin settled back down, placing his head back on Arthur's shoulder just firmly enough that Arthur knew that, should he try moving again, retribution would be swift. "Why not?" he countered. Arthur stayed silent. "Oh, fine. It sounds a bit," his voice changed a little. "A bit like destiny." he said, slowly. "A safe destiny."
"I refuse to name a child because the name sounds like a safe destiny." Arthur said, firmly, refusing to admit that shivers had gone down his spine at the sound of Merlin’s voice; for a moment there, he hadn’t sounded like Merlin at all. "It's a rubbish reason." Merlin shrugged; apparently he hadn't been too set on that one, which was a relief. "And - Princess Vivien?"
"Oh, fine, then." Merlin said, sleepy and agreeable; perhaps Arthur should make sure he was always like this. It would make life much simpler - but much less interesting too. Maybe he could only drug him for the really important occasions; coronations and big feasts and so on. And for fun, occasionally. "What names do you want?" Merlin was asking, though, and Arthur came back to the moment.
"Well, maybe - Godric for a boy, Rowena for a girl." He suggested.
Blue eyes stared up at him, incredulously. Arthur refused to meet them. "It amazes me that you could possibly think 'Vivien' was a bad name, and then suggest something like 'Rowena'." He said, flatly.
"Vivien has no ring of nobility." Arthur said, stiffly.
"And Rowena has no ring of sanity." Merlin countered.
"It's an old family name!"
"So's Vivien!"
"Maybe we should just avoid old family names altogether." Arthur said, quickly, and Merlin nodded, hastily. "So... how about Helga?" There was no very friendly look in Merlin's eyes, and Arthur amended that one quickly. "Or not. Any other suggestions from you?"
"Will for a boy?" Merlin suggested very quietly, and Arthur stiffened. "Sorry. It was a silly idea."
"It could be a middle name?" He compromised. “William’s a good strong name for a prince.”
"OK." Merlin said, but the sad, wistful look was still on his face, and Arthur just wanted to get rid of it.
"He, er..." He thought for a moment, then recycled one of the lines he'd heard so regularly when he'd been old enough to understand that he should mourn his mother. "He wouldn't want you to be unhappy. Not now."
Merlin looked up at him again, a smile starting. "Rubbish. He'd have thought this whole - well - thing - the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He'd have made my life hell."
"If I’d known that that's what you wanted," Arthur grinned back, happy that Merlin was looking less unhappy, "I'd have happily seen to it myself."
"Oh, I know you would." A brief moment of silence. "You know..." he added, slowly. "I still need to tell my mother."
"Maybe she should come here in person." Arthur suggested. "We'd be only too happy to have her..."
"I'm not sure she'd be happy to come." Merlin admitted. "I should probably go to E-"
"No." Arthur vetoed that one immediately. "Out of the question."
"Look, Arthur-"
"The whole country knows what's happened here." Arthur said, firmly. "And you’re carrying the future heir to Camelot. D'you really think you can just stroll across it without being in danger? D'you think anyone in the palace would let you?!"
Merlin looked mutinous for a moment, but after holding Arthur's gaze for a moment. "Fine." He subsided, but the warm, comfortable mood had gone.
"We'll ask her here." He said, trying to be conciliatory, but Merlin just nodded. "Anyway. We still have the problem of a first name."
"How about Bran?" Merlin suggested, listlessly. “That shouldn’t hurt anyone’s feelings. Or sensibilities.”
Arthur seized upon the wholly unobjectionable name with both hands, nodding enthusiastically. "I like it." he nodded. "Good, strong name."
"Better than Will?" Merlin sniped, but it came out rather half-hearted.
"You wouldn't like it if I demanded we call it 'Sophia', if it was a girl." Arthur objected.
"Sophia was a black-hearted witch." Merlin said, fiercely. "And Will was a good friend."
"He was a sorce- oh. Oh."
"Yes." Merlin stood, walking over to the horses, but making no move to mount up. "'Oh'."
"Look, Merlin..." he said, gently, following him over. "I'm sorry, really. I didn't think. But... I know he was a good friend," he actively had to fight to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "And you miss him, but - I don't want him to be the first thing either of us think of when we look at..."
"I know." Merlin muttered. "I do. I know he's got nothing to do with this,"
"I bloody hope he doesn't." Arthur interjected, and one corner of Merlin's mouth twitched upwards.
"But - I can't help missing him." He looked up at Arthur again. “I guess naming this baby after him would make it feel a bit like I had something real of him with me.”
“Merlin...” Arthur said rather helplessly; he was useless in situations like these, “It’s not his baby. Giving it his name isn’t going to help. Of course we can if you really want, but... I don’t see what good it’s going to do except torture you every time you look at our son.”
He nodded wordlessly, and cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, of course. I – yes.” Without looking up, he turned back to his horse. “Maybe we should - head back to the castle.”
Arthur frowned; things had been going so well up till this moment, and he didn't have any idea of how to fix it now that it had gone wrong. Dammit, he loved Merlin, he’d just said so, and he couldn’t even make something this small better for him. “If you want.” He said, simply, but Merlin flinched anyway.
"I don't mind."
But he evidently didn't want to stay here any longer. And if Arthur didn't know how to fix the ruined moment, the least he could do was give Merlin what he wanted. "Let's go back." He sighed, and went to un-tether the horses.
They made the ride back to the castle in almost complete silence, Arthur breaking it occasionally to correct some part of Merlin’s riding, far more gently than he had on the way out. It was almost amusing, he thought tiredly, that he could only be affectionate towards Merlin when things were awkward between them. Mostly, though, he just wished he knew what had just happened. If it had been a fight, he would have understood, and known how to react – but it hadn’t been a fight, at all. Merlin wasn’t angry at him, they hadn’t been snapping at each other, but somehow, somewhere along the line he’d made Merlin miserable, and he didn’t know how to unsay whatever it was that had hurt him.
The problem was, Merlin didn’t act like any of his other lovers had when they’d been angry with him. They got cross and often coquettish, unable to get really angry with the Prince, the man they thought of as their future ruler. Everyone else he’d ever been with – and it wasn’t exactly an exhaustive list, most people never made it past a quick tumble with the Prince – had had one eye on the future, one eye on the person Arthur would be rather than the person he was at that moment. Merlin, by contrast, couldn’t have cared less what Arthur would be, except for making sure that he was good at it. So he had absolutely no problems with getting angry at him, shouting at him, pointing out where he’d gone wrong as loudly as it took for Arthur to hear him.
But Merlin wasn’t angry with him at the moment; he was hurting, and it wasn’t even Arthur’s fault. What was Arthur supposed to do in a situation like this?
In lieu of any actual ideas, he let the silence drag on to the point where it would have been more awkward to break it than to leave it alone, and Merlin himself didn’t seem to mind letting it continue. They rode into the stable yard without having exchanged more than the most cursory of conversation.
Arthur waved the stable hands away, remembering their attitude to Merlin all too clearly, and untacked their horses himself while Merlin fetched water and brushes. Arthur took the buckets off him, but the imprecation about carrying heavy things died before Arthur even took breath to make it. Merlin would hardly welcome it.
It was only when the tack had been placed ready for cleaning and they were halfway through brushing the horses that Arthur broke the silence, glancing around to make sure that they were alone.
“Look – Merlin... I’m sorry.” He said stiltedly. An apology was always the best way to go, surely? “I didn’t mean to – upset you, or anything. I just don’t like the idea of our son being named after a past lover of yours.”
Merlin turned to him with a frown. “A past lover? He’s – Will wasn’t, we never – he was a friend, Arthur!”
Arthur flushed. “Well then, I’m sorry,” he apologised again rather stiffly, “I evidently mistook things.”
“Evidently!” Arthur half expected Merlin to storm off at that, but in fact he simply turned back to his horse, giving it a few more strokes with the brush before saying lowly, “I wouldn’t like it if you insisted on calling the baby after another – after a friend of yours,” he said, softly. “We’ll come up with another name, one we both like. Not one we agreed on so we weren’t fighting over it. After all, we’ve got months to think about it.” He patted the horse and let himself out of its stall, leaning against the door by Arthur’s.
“Remember that the names have to be approved by the council,” Arthur reminded him reluctantly.
Merlin frowned again, evidently frustrated. “This should be a wonderful, private,” a flash of humour, “slightly strange event, and we’re having to check every step of the way with people it has nothing to do with.”
Arthur, in a rare moment of sensitivity, patted his arm awkwardly. “Maybe it won’t feel so strange with your mother here?” he asked, returning to his grooming.
“Don’t be silly, I’m pregnant,” Merlin pointed out, some of the warmth and humour returning to his voice, “That’s never not going to feel strange.”
“I’m not sure I followed that,” Arthur admitted with a grin, relieved that the mood had finally taken a turn for the better. “Are you sure you don’t mind not being able to go to her?”
Merlin sighed. “Oh, I mind plenty,” he said, shifting a little, “But I’m not going to sulk over it like a child. Some of us learnt not to do that.”
“Watch your tongue, peasant,” Arthur returned loftily, and just laughed when Merlin stuck his tongue out at him. “Oh, yes. I can see you’ve really got a handle on being an adult.”
“Shut up,” Merlin said, comfortably. “I can’t be childish when I’m going to have to be a role model for a child all too soon. Something you’d best remember, Arthur, dearheart.”
For a moment, Arthur stared at him, revolted, then shook his head. “Please promise never to call me that again,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Merlin said blithely, turning away as Arthur finished up grooming his own horse and left the stall, “I’ll save it for those really special occasions. Your coronation, maybe.”
Arthur followed him, “Do it, and I’ll put you in the stocks; don’t think being my consort will stop me.”
“I’d hate to think it did,” Merlin grinned, but it didn’t last long. “God knows it’s going to change enough things without it changing that.”
“What do you mean?”
Merlin glanced at him, “Well, you know. I was just getting a handle on my duties and rights as your manservant, and suddenly I’m expected to be in charge of banquets and alms-giving and all the rest of it?” He shook his head, “I’m better at receiving alms than giving them, Arthur.”
“I didn’t think your lord was much interested in giving alms?” Arthur asked, frowning. “He didn’t care that Kanen was ransacking the village...?”
“Figure of speech,” Merlin shrugged, “I just meant – how am I supposed to look people in the eye and treat them like – like peasants, when I’m more one of them than one of you?”
Arthur considered it for a moment. “Well then,” he said reasonably, “Don’t treat them like peasants.” Merlin stared at him. “I think – a little blurring of the lines might not be such a bad thing.”
For a moment, Merlin’s face was completely still, his expression blank and shocked; then he smiled. “You’re going to be a great King,” he said warmly, “I’ll be honoured to be at your side.”
Arthur flushed, knowing he should say something equally warm in return, but unable to get his head and tongue round the words, “Well,” he coughed, “So far you’ve been markedly less useless than I thought you were going to be.”
Somehow, Merlin was alright with that, and he just laughed. “Thank you,” he grinned, “From you, I’ll have to take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one,” Arthur muttered, and Merlin’s grin softened a little.
“I know,” he agreed, reaching out and clasping Arthur’s shoulder momentarily, before letting to and turning to look up at the castle. “We should – we should head back in,” he added reluctantly, “I’m sure I’ve kept you from your duties long enough.”
“It was worth it,” Arthur said gruffly, and was surprised to find that it was, despite the awkward silence and the fight-that-wasn’t; somehow, he felt more at ease with Merlin now than he had before, and though he wasn’t sure how that had come about, he was grateful for it nonetheless.
“Yes, it was good,” Merlin agreed, hearing the words that Arthur wasn’t going to say; and maybe Morgana was right when she said they were meant for each other, even if it did sound like one of those ridiculous ballads that Arthur never listened to, “So what are your duties for the rest of the afternoon?”
They started up the long, sweeping staircase which lead to the main castle entrance, and Arthur paused a moment, thinking through his tasks for the afternoon, “I’m going to look through the reports from the Southern Farthing,” he said quietly, “They’ve been having some problems with bandits, and it might be worth sending some of the infantry out; which is part of the reason I’ll be joining Father later for his meeting with the Council. He’s negotiating with them for more infantry.”
“Negotiations?” Merlin frowned, “Doesn’t he just – you know. Tell them?”
Arthur kept his eyes firmly ahead as their private moment slipped away. Merlin’s naivety was touching to him, but would be nothing more than a weakness to most members of the court – and Arthur was damned if he’d see Merlin’s goodwill manipulated by anybody. He hated having to do it, but tarnishing some of that faith in human nature was for the best. “All the most powerful families in the land have a representative in the King’s Council.” He explained, “Not because they’re good or intelligent, but because not including them would be seen as a horrific insult; they fought with my father and put him on the throne. His position is only as strong as the support of his nobles, and he can’t be seen to slight any of them.”
Merlin was still frowning. “That’s wrong.” He said, frankly, “A King should depend on the support of his people.”
“We all know why that’s not possible,” Arthur said, his voice very low and hushed.
“Camelot would have been ready to adore him,” Merlin said, lowering his own voice, “Had he not started on his campaign to stamp out all the magic in the land.”
Maybe Merlin wasn’t as naive as he’d thought. “Maybe.” He agreed warily.
“Definitely.” Merlin corrected, “And they’ll love you if they see you as hope for the future.”
“Merlin, talking like this is treason-”
“Rubbish,” he said, “I’m not plotting to kill the King, and I hope for your sake he lives a long and happy life, and dies peacefully in his sleep-”
“Oh, thank you.” Arthur said sarcastically.
“I’m just saying that eventually he will die, and pass on the crown. To you.”
“And from there to Baby Me.”
“Baby Me, actually,” Merlin said placidly, apparently willing to be teased back into a good mood.
“Nonsense, I’m the Prince. Everyone will fall over themselves to say how much it takes after me.”
“And I’m the one with pregnancy hormones and a tendency to cry,” Merlin returned smugly, “No one will want to upset the – er – father of the heir.”
“Mother,” Arthur contradicted, with equal smugness.
“Shut up, Arthur.” He gave him a Look, and turned away, “Or I’ll show you just how readily available those pregnancy hormones really are.”
“You haven’t cried much yet, though, have you?” Arthur said thoughtfully. “I thought all woman – and, er, you,” Merlin’s glare was half-hearted at best, “Were always crying during their pregnancies.”
“You obviously haven’t spent a lot of time around pregnant women,” Merlin teased gently, but Arthur just shrugged. “They cry a fair bit. Though, things were different back in Ealdor – you couldn’t take things easy for a little thing like a baby. Not when it might not live, anyway.”
Arthur shuddered. “And you were planning to return there to have our baby? Sometimes I wonder whether you really do have a mental problem, Merlin. Here’s hoping you don’t pass that on to this poor child.”
“Well,” Merlin considered this, apparently in earnest for a couple of minutes, “Gaius says he doesn’t think it’s likely. And I was miserable here, Arthur; I can understand why the women here cry when they’re pregnant if that’s what they’re going through.”
“So,” Arthur wasn’t ready to deal with that and dragged the conversation ruthlessly back to its initial point, “Why aren’t you crying all the time at the moment?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Merlin shrugged. “I was planning to ask Gaius. He asked me to come by sometime this afternoon, when he’s prepared that tea for me – the one that should help with the sickness. It’s handy, I have questions for him.”
“Mmm.” Arthur nodded, “Tell me what he says, would you?”
“Of course,” Merlin agreed. “I hope the meeting with the councillors goes well.”
“I doubt it will,” Arthur sighed heavily, “but thanks for the thought. Good luck with Gaius.”
“Thank you – I think I’ll need it.” Merlin grinned, and, greatly daring, pressed a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Arthur half-nodded in reply to that, and though he knew he was being a sap, he watched, one hand on the handle of his door, until Merlin was out of sight. Yes – things were going to be tough. But hopefully, between them, they’d be able to make them bearable.
**
Part Nine
