Chapter Text
Three Years Later…
“How long is this going to take?”
Merlin absentmindedly flipped to the next page of his book, not even bothering to look up from its pages. “These things take time, Arthur.”
“I’m well aware. But this long?”
“Gaius and Daegal are with her. Gwen’s in the best possible care.”
Arthur huffed, never pausing his endless pacing of his chambers. “Yes, yes, I know that. But…what if something’s wrong?”
“I feel assured someone would have informed us if that were the case,” Merlin said, only pausing long enough from his reading to peer at Arthur over the top of his pages before turning back to the text.
“How can you possibly be so calm?”
“Because I know Gwen is strong; I would trust Gaius with anyone’s life. Between Daegal, Morgana, and myself, I’m sure one of us would’ve felt a change in the balance of the world should something have happened. And furthermore, Daegal is becoming quite the fine physician apprenticing under Gaius. I’m sure the old man will be able to retire any day now.”
“But it’s been hours!”
Irritated, Merlin huffed, and finally set his book aside to level Arthur with an unimpressed look of exasperation. “By the gods, Arthur. And what would you know of childbirth?”
Arthur groaned, coming over to drape himself across the bed, pillowing his head in Merlin’s lap. “Nothing at all, and that’s the problem! Guinevere is one of my oldest friends, Merlin. Should something happen to her…I don’t know what I would do with myself. And gods forbid it, but Lancelot would be devastated!”
“Dearest,” Merlin said as he began to stroke the blonde locks around Arthur’s ears, his sympathetic expression failing to belie the amused undertone of his voice, “babies are born every day. It is natural. Yes, there can be complications, but as I said before, I trust no one more than Gaius and Daegal. They will do everything in their power to help her. No news is good news in these sorts of situations, I believe they say.”
Arthur smiled and reached up to playfully shove the mage’s face away. “Why do you always have to be right?”
“I don’t always have to be. It’s just a general occurrence whenever I’m around you.”
“Idiot,” Arthur retorted and reached up to give Merlin another shove, only to watch a spark snap, hot and red, between his fingers and Merlin’s skin. He swore quietly, shaking his hand out and pulling it protectively back towards his chest while the dazzling gold faded from Merlin’s irises. Merlin laughed.
“What’re you laughing at, you ass?”
“Just you. You looked like a little startled stoat.”
“Oh, yeah?” Arthur asked. His voice dropped lower, almost threatening, while he pushed himself up to straddle Merlin’s lap. He pressed Merlin down into the pillows, leaning in until his lips ghosted against Merlin’s ear. Those azure eyes, flecked with gold, watched his every move, wide with shock and want.
“Who’s startled now?”
Merlin made a breathy noise that quickly morphed to a quiet moan when Arthur nipped his ear. Even after over three summers together, it never ceased to amaze Arthur just how easy it was to draw those sorts of sounds from Merlin’s lips. He loved the way the warlock’s cheeks and ears would flush deep scarlet with embarrassment with every involuntary noise.
“You’re the ass.”
Arthur hummed. “That’s not what you were saying this morning.”
“Arthur Pendragon!”
Arthur pressed a kiss just under the shell of Merlin’s ear. “Yes, Merlin Ambrosius?”
“You’re insufferable.” Arthur’s hands wandered the expanse of warm skin beneath Merlin’s emerald tunic. Merlin laughed. “And insatiable.”
“Hmm, only for you.”
Merlin laughed again. Sometimes he still found it unfathomable that this was his life. It had been three summers—three wonderful, peaceful summers—since they had freed him from Cenred’s grasp, and Merlin couldn’t imagine his life any other way. It hadn’t been easy, of course, not by a long shot, but the long road leading to where he was at that very moment had been well worth it; he wouldn’t change a thing for the world.
Arthur was perfect, needless to say. Sure, they had their fair share of spats, one memorable occurrence which had resulted in Merlin seeking refuge in Will’s chambers for a solid sennight and had ended with Arthur kissing him in front of the entirety of the Royal Council, much to the horror of the stuffy nobility. There were times when they vexed each other to no end—Arthur, despite his best intentions, was still prone to speaking before he thought, and Merlin had what was seemingly an endless wealth of trust issues, even with Arthur. And, once they had gotten past the initial joy of being reunited once more, it became painfully clear that they both still had a lot of issues they needed to work through before they could even think of romance. And so, the No Kissing Rule had been reinstated.
In all honesty, those had been the longest eight months of Merlin’s life. He knew it was for the best—they couldn’t hope to have any sort of meaningful relationship still reeling from all that had happened. But that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about pinning Arthur against a wall, any wall, and ravishing him right then and there.
And so, they had been fierce friends, albeit friends fiercely in love. They fervently ignored the wandering gazes and less than casual touches, focusing solely on the mounds of work they both had rather than on how much they longed for each other.
The first thing Arthur had done upon returning to Camelot was to repeal the ban on magic. Surprisingly, few fought the motion, even those nobles who had sat on the council under Uther. Merlin wasn’t sure whether they could see it was useless to try and fight Arthur on the subject or if they genuinely disagreed with the statute, but he supposed it didn’t matter. In the end, magic flowed through Camelot once more. Arthur named him Court Sorcerer, and Merlin nearly wept the first time he saw a young girl, no more than two or three summers, crouched just outside the citadel, carefully coaxing a tulip from the freshly thawed spring ground, the happiest giggles escaping her lips as her eyes glowed a soft yellow.
There was no shortage of responsibilities as Court Sorcerer, but he loved every moment of it. For the first time since he was a teen, he was able to use his magic without fear and with the freedom it deserved. He loved all the ways he could help the citizens of Camelot, and he certainly loved the way Arthur looked at him when he used his magic, his eyes all shiny with awe and something deeper, something that caused his pupils to nearly swallow the cerulean of his irises. Merlin adored the shiver of pleasure that raced down his spine each time Arthur looked at him that way, through his eyelashes, like he was the single most desirable person alive.
Arthur was busy with his kingdom, of course, and all the responsibilities of being sovereign, not to mention the additional difficulties Essetir threw into the mix. Still, Arthur fell easily into his role as king with his household back intact once more. Morgana was a true savior through it all, making an uncountable number of trips to and from Essetir those first few months.
Thankfully, even with his new position, Merlin had not been forced to give up sailing or his beloved ship. In fact, Arthur hadn’t even gone to the trouble of having a new ship commissioned after The Dragon Slayer had been destroyed. The Avalon effortlessly adapted and grew to accommodate all of them. He went on small trips around the Isles and such every few sennights, just him and his crew like the old days, only with no darkness baring down on them. They were happier and safer than ever, and for that, Merlin would be forever grateful.
True to her word, Morgana allowed Merlin to have nothing to do with Essetir, which he was eternally grateful for. As much as he cared for and felt for the citizens, he just couldn’t find it within himself to do them any good when he still had trouble sleeping through the night. When he still flinched at the Knights’ playful punches or even Gaius reaching for something on a high shelf. When he had devolved into a panic attack while cataloging Uther’s secret magic vault in the library because the door had unexpectedly swung shut from a draft, and he had feared he was hopelessly stuck, only for George to free him less than a few heartbeats later, finding the mage on the ground, gasping for breath.
He would have only been lying to himself if he’d claimed not to be struggling immensely.
It wasn’t even fear, that was the infuriating part. He knew Cenred was gone, knew it just as he knew his own soul. He knew Arthur and the others would never allow him to be hurt in such a way again. He knew he was safe. And, truly, he did not fear for himself. Yet, each time he believed he had begun to recover, to cast the memories of Cenred’s torments from his mind, the most trivial of things would send him reeling once more.
For the first few months back in Camelot, there really had seemed to be no end to it. He struggled to eat, struggled to sleep, struggled to function. He couldn’t even walk for over three fortnights, confined to his bed with his ankle stiffly splinted. He shook all the time. He was constantly flinching, his eyes always scanning a silent vigil of every room. He couldn’t stand to be alone, but he couldn’t really stand to be with others either. He had even begun to find Aithusa’s—his beautiful, wonderful girl—presence sickeningly oppressive. It seemed no one knew how to help him. Gaius and Deagal had even gone to some nearby Druids, the very same ones that had first informed Gaius of how to break the curse, but he remained perpetually stuck in a constant state of anxiety.
~
Merlin had been back in Camelot for nearly eight months, and he was miserable.
Oh, everything was wonderful, but that didn’t change the fact that every waking moment Merlin felt as if he were drowning. He had no idea what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t just get over it. It wasn’t like Cenred was going to suddenly reappear and drag him back to Essetir. According to the others, they’d seen kindling more intact than Cenred. And Merlin was no necromancer, but he was fairly certain having a body to return to was one of the main facets to raising the dead. He would know, after all.
He just wanted to feel normal again, whatever normal was. Or, maybe, he just wanted to feel like he had before Cenred had ever entered his life, no matter how much of a fantasy that was. He resented how Cenred, even in death, had somehow still managed to take so much of Merlin with him to the grave. The warlock couldn’t even kiss the man he truly loved without a sour taste flooding his mouth.
He sat cross-legged on a stone bench in Queen Ygraine’s rose garden solarium. It was immaculately well kept by the palace gardener, even after all these years, and it was positively stunning. The flowers covered every spare surface not occupied by benches or walkways, washing the world in deep reds and elegant blues, soft yellows and purples, pure whites. Sunlight streamed through the glass walls and pooled on the cobblestones. The colors almost seemed to glow under the midmorning rays.
Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath through his nose. The light, fresh sweetness was the first thing he registered, soon followed by a rich earthiness that caused his magic to hum pleasantly. He could feel the flowers in the earth, the way their roots spread, seeking out nutrients in the soil. He wasn’t a Druid, but the life in the little solarium was undeniable with the way it thrummed through his veins like an extension of his own soul. It was peaceful, yet not quiet in the slightest. That was partially why Ygraine’s garden had quickly became one of his favorite spots in the citadel, right next to Arthur’s chambers and the library. The flowers, for all their spirit, held no expectations of him.
He was so in tune with his hidden solace that he noticed the shift in the air the moment the new person entered the solarium without so much as cracking his eyes open. There were soft, hesitant footsteps against the stones and then the gentle rustling of fabric as the person settled next to him.
It was only then that he opened his eyes. He glanced over at Meredith, her pale face glowing nearly as much as the flowers in the sunlight. Her auburn hair shone like a sunset. Her eyes were bright, happy for the first time that Merlin had ever known her. Her cheeks were no longer sunken, her fair skin no longer littered with Cenred’s bruises any more than his own. Now clad in a light green dress and white apron, not the rags Cenred kept her in, Merlin noticed for the first time her simple beauty. She was young, not much older than he, with forest green eyes, a button nose, and dusty pink lips. Her figure was lithe, her skin dotted with sun freckles, and her auburn waves tied into a simple knot at the nape of her neck. He could easily see how she had once attracted Cenred’s affection.
“Hello, Meredith,” he greeted her. She gave him a gentle smile
“Have you been well?” She nodded.
“Have you enjoyed being Morgana’s maidservant?” Another nod.
“She treats you well?” Although, he was unsure why he even asked such an idiotic question. As if Morgana would ever treat her poorly.
“And Hugh is well, too? Enjoying Camelot?”
Again, Meredith nodded with a smile, and Merlin had nothing else to say.
It wasn’t that he had any animosity for her. Quite the contrary, actually. He wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for her, multiple times over. It was still just so strange to see her here, in Camelot, free from Cenred as well. It was hard for him to look at her sometimes, knowing they had both felt Cenred in the most intimate way possible, had both suffered his abuses and had been pinned beneath him at one time or another, helpless to stop him from taking what he pleased.
A soft hand settled over his, and his gaze flicked down briefly before rising to meet hers. She was staring at him with a knowing expression.
“What?”
Meredith reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew a quill and roll of parchment. She smoothed the parchment across her lap and began to write out a message in quick, practiced strokes.
Merlin tilted his head curiously. He had offered, numerous times since their return, to make an attempt at restoring her tongue so she might speak, or at least gain some of her speech back, but he had been turned down each time. One of his current projects was developing a way for Meredith to communicate telepathically, much in the same way he, Morgana, and Daegal did. But until then, it was the least he could do to charm her quill so it might never run out of ink and the parchment so that it would never end.
Meredith pushed the parchment towards him, and Merlin quickly scanned the words. You’re sad. I can see it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he dismissed. She scribbled something else and pushed it back before Merlin even had to pull his head away.
No sense in lying.
“I’m not—” he began to say but cut himself off when she gave him a knowing look, her kind green eyes warm and just a little exasperated.
Merlin sighed. “I’m not sad, per say. Just a bit…lost.”
I understand.
Merlin could no longer meet her eyes. He couldn’t look into them, seeing the weight of her true understanding shrouded in that kindness. He couldn’t exist knowing another soul had suffered nearly as much as he, and even then, he was never forced to bear that monster’s child. He didn’t need to see his own pain reflected back at him. He saw it every time he looks in the mirror, anyhow.
The hand settled over his once more, this time giving it a gentle squeeze. He knew she was asking a silent question, willing him to meet her gaze, but he simply couldn’t. All this time, he’d been wallowing in his own world of self-pity, feeling as if no one could possibly understand what he suffered despite their best efforts, when all along, someone who knew exactly what he had experienced had been right there. Meredith had felt the same pain and had still had the personal fortitude to raise a child despite it. She was stronger than he on any day, but she wasn’t the one feeling sorry for herself.
Merlin heard the quill scratching over the parchment again before it was being practically shoved under his nose.
I can hear you thinking. Stop it.
Merlin couldn’t help the amused snort. “You’ve been spending plenty of time with Morgana, I can see.”
She pulled the parchment away to write more. Merlin finally willed himself to look at her, to watch her deft fingers write out her thoughts faster than any scribe he had ever witnessed. Still, he couldn’t imagine how wholly vexing it must be to have to write down every single thought. If he had to write down each of his thoughts separately, it would be all he got done in a day.
“Why won’t you let me help you?”
Funny, you and then Because I do not desire your help.
Merlin spluttered. “But you could possibly speak again! You would no longer have to spend so long just expressing your thoughts!”
It was a long moment before she showed him the parchment again. I do not desire your help because I am not suffering. I am at peace with who I am, and what Cenred did to me. I survived him, and I do not wish to have my battle scar taken from me any more than a knight would. That is why your magic did not heal me as it did the rest.
“It did not heal you because you chose for it not to?”
Meredith made a so-so gesture and quickly scribbled something else down. Something like that. I am comfortable with my condition. I have existed this way for many years. But Daegal, for example, was not at peace. His arm wound was fresh. Your magic made it so he did not have to suffer any longer, but I do not suffer.
Merlin read those words, astonished, a sick sense of guilt settling heavy in his chest. “Meredith, I don’t know what to say. All those years, I sat by and watched Cenred do all that he did to you. On some level,” he took a deep breath as he prepared to admit something he had never truly admitted to himself, “on some level I even resented you. Not that I wanted Cenred’s attention, but I suppose some part of me had always sort of dreamed of a fairy tale. I grew up seeing how much my parents adored each other, and I always wanted that for myself. And seeing Cenred turn his attention to another, especially one who was much prettier than myself, it hurt, as much as I didn’t want it to.”
Meredith was nodding in understanding as she wrote. There was nothing that you could have done to help me, any more than there was that I could for you. And I suppose I resented you, as well. Cenred dared to make me with child, but would not give me the slightest acknowledgement otherwise, not even his child. But you did not even ask for his attention, and he betrothed you. She wrinkled her nose, smirking slightly as she wrote, If it is any consolation, I do believe he preferred you to me.
Merlin matched her disgusted expression. “I can’t say that is one of my proudest boasts.”
She laughed silently, her mouth wide and an odd clicking noise emanating from her throat. Merlin grinned at the happy sound; it was the first he had truly ever heard from her.
“You know,” Merlin said, “I never did get to thank you for putting that knife under my pillow. How could you have ever dreamt I would need it?”
This time, Meredith’s pale cheeks flushed pink, and she looked away, ashamed. It took a while, that time, before she began to write again.
I did not, really. I never thought it would end the way it did. I only thought, if nothing else, it might provide you an out.
“To simply take my own life?” Merlin asked. Meredith nodded. “Well, regardless, I owe you my life.”
Then I owe you twice that. Mine and Hugh’s.
“I do believe you owe those to Arthur. I had no hand in the matter. I was quite dead, after all.”
Meredith did her little laugh again as she levelled him with a knowing smirk. Ah, Arthur.
Merlin read the words and rolled his eyes. “What of him?”
I’m happy for you. You deserve true love.
“We’re not anything right now, Meredith.”
As if that matters. I never had the pleasure of meeting your parents, but I would wager a guess that the two of you look at each other much the same way as they did.
As Merlin read those words, he found his eyes becoming suddenly misty with tears. He sniffled. “Thank you, Meredith. I…I needed this.”
Meredith pressed a hand to his heart and showed him the parchment. We all need to know we’re not alone. I have made peace with my scars; now, it is time for you to do the same.
She returned the parchment and quill to her pocket and wrapped him in a soft hug. He buried his head in her shoulder, catching a whiff of freshly baked bread on her dress mingled amongst the flowers’ fragrances all around them. She placed a hand on his cheek, gave his chest one more pat, and rose from the bench, brushing the nonexistent dirt from her apron. She turned to leave with one more smile, but Merlin called after her.
“How did you know where to find me?”
She paused long enough to pull her two utensils from their storage and to jot down a message. She held it up to him, and he squinted in the sunlight to read the words there.
You have always loved flowers. Who do you think put a fresh bouquet in your chambers in Essetir each day?
Merlin watched her leave, stunned. Those flowers had been the only spot of color in his otherwise desolate chambers, the only reminder that there was a world that existed beyond those cold stone walls. He had always assumed some poor servant put them there each day to try and garner his attention. He never dreamt it was Meredith.
And she really thought she had never helped him.
He leaned down and plucked a deep crimson rose from a nearby bush, brought it to his nose, and inhaled its deep, earthy scent. He smiled, his chest feeling lighter than it had in a long time, and carefully wrapped the flower in a handkerchief for later. Maybe they could help each other.
~
“Where did you go just now?” Arthur inquired as he stroked Merlin’s cheekbone.
“Far from you.”
Arthur pinched the warm skin of his hip with the hand resting on his waist. “Cheeky.”
Merlin laughed, a true, overjoyed laugh. “Just thinking about a good memory. A really good memory.”
“What was it?” Arthur pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“It doesn’t matter. It just really helped me feel better. It’s actually what made me get rid of the No Kissing Rule, once and for all.”
Arthur kissed his cheek. “Well, thank.” He pressed one to the other cheek. “The gods.” His forehead. “For that.” He ended by pressing a deep kiss to his lips, heated as he snaked his hands beneath Merlin’s tunic once more.
They were like that, pressed together on Arthur’s bed, languidly kissing and touching, when there was a sharp rap on the chamber doors and before either could pull away from the other, Morgana was letting herself into the room.
“Mother, Maiden, and Crone, Morgana!” Arthur exclaimed, pulling back to shoot his sister a glare. “What if we had been naked?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Looks like you were taking your time with that then. Merlin looks bored to death.”
Merlin felt his face flush, but Arthur rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”
“I thought you’d both like to know that Gwen and Lance’s baby is here. But if you wish to return to your activities—”
“Why didn’t you just lead with that, Morgana?” Arthur demanded. He clamored off the bed and rushed to pull on his boots, Merlin doing the same, albeit at a much more acceptable pace.
Morgana huffed. “I was quite distracted by your attempts to swallow Merlin whole.”
“Morgana!” Merlin chastised, his ears burning. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders.
“Don’t be like that, dear. It’s not your fault that you’re being courted by a brute.”
“Are you quite finished?” Arthur demanded, but Morgana was already pulling Merlin towards the door. He threw a pleading look at the king. “Where are you going?”
“To see the baby, you halfwit! Are you coming, or not?” Morgana called over her shoulder.
~
There was a small gathering outside of Lancelot and Gwen’s chambers. Percival and Leon were leant against the wall across from the doors with Elyan pacing back and forth, like a caged animal.
“Keep that up, and the new floor runner will be coming out of your monthly wage, Elyan,” Arthur said.
“Aye,” a new voice agreed, and Will appeared around the corner, George on his heels. “He’s been wearin’ a path in that carpet since the Lady Guinevere went inta labor. S’why I went to fetch George, get the poor man some water.”
George quickly went about filling Elyan a chalice of water while Arthur gave Will a grin, all teeth, and Merlin could already tell what was coming. He sighed, exasperated, as he usually was with his First Mate and his King’s antics.
“That was very kind of you, Sir William,” Arthur said, and Will glowered. He hated the title, more than anything, but it had been Arthur’s one stipulation to giving him command of Camelot’s entire naval fleet—he had to accept knighthood and a seat at The Round Table. Will despised nobility, and it killed him inside to become one himself, but much like Gwaine once had, Will soon discovered that Arthur was one noble worth fighting for. It was a small price to pay for the actual job he got from the exchange, which allowed him to still sail as he pleased while also being back in Camelot frequently.
“Alright, I was promised a baby,” Morgana said, pushing her way to the middle of the group.
“Gaius just came out to inform us. They’re cleaning her up now,” Leon said.
Merlin smiled. “So, it’s a little girl then?”
Leon nodded. “Cute little lassie from what Gaius says, too.”
They fell into an almost awkward silence. Not that they couldn’t just enjoy each other’s company or make simple conversation, but what exactly were they meant to say to one another knowing Gwen had just given birth on the other side of the door?
Percival cleared his throat. “Bit quiet with Gwaine and Freya off on their honeymoon tour, isn’t it?”
“I jus’ can’t believe Frey’s married. To Gwaine no less. Never thought either one of ‘em was the marryin’ type,” Will said.
Arthur snorted. “They are quite similar. Gods above know that man can’t stand a moment of silence.”
“Nor can Freya,” Merlin said. “Once she woke me in the middle of the night in a panic to inform me that some glowing creature was following our ship beneath the waves. It was, in fact, the reflection of the moon on the water. Needless to say, I started keeping the key to the room where we stored the rum barrels in my quarters.”
Everyone laughed at that, and the memory made him smile. It was nice to have memories from that time that weren’t completely tainted by Cenred.
Just then, the doors to the Du Lac’s chambers swung open, and Gaius eyed them all critically. “Come in, all of you, if you must. But Gwen needs her rest, and the new parents need time to bond with the baby.”
“Oh, let them be, Gaius,” Gwen called as they all pushed their way into the rooms. “I’m quite alright. Aithusa’s magic has done wonders for me. Why, I hardly feel tired at all! What a good girl you are!”
She was sitting up in bed, propped against a multitude of pillows, Aithusa curled up at her feet. The young dragon thumped her tail happily against the bedding, preening under the praise, and Merlin couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly. She’d be bristling her scales over this for the next sennight.
The moment she saw Merlin, however, she bounded off the bed and would’ve fully tackled him to the ground had Leon not had the foresight to catch them both before they met the floor. Aithusa was chirping and making quiet clicking noises from deep in her throat as she nuzzled under his chin and licked his throat excitedly. Merlin grimaced. Not only was dragon saliva just about one of the vilest substances, all thick and gooey, but her breath smelled horrendous, and her tongue felt like rocks raking across his skin.
He pushed her away. “Aw, hell, get down.” He wrinkled his nose while he made a vain attempt to wipe the saliva off his neck. She swatted his leg lightly with her tail. “Yes, yes, you’ve been a wonderful girl. So helpful, making Gwen feel better. Now, go see Morgana. Give her kisses.”
Aithusa roared and wrapped herself around Morgana’s legs, who bent down and scratched her right behind the ear. “Oh, you are such a pretty girl. Don’t let the mean warlock tell you otherwise.”
“Thanks a lot, ‘Gana,” Merlin grumbled. “Turning my own dragon against me.”
Morgana had fully knelt down to give Aithusa a good belly scratch. “I can’t help it if she likes me better.”
Arthur cleared his throat. “If you two please, there’s a new baby we came to meet, if you haven’t forgotten.”
Gaius hadn’t lied to Leon when he’d told him that she was adorable. All wrapped up in a dusty rose-colored swaddle and cradled in Gwen’s arms, she had the tiniest little button nose Merlin had ever seen. Her cheeks were flushed pink and tufts of dark brown hair already curled from beneath the blanket. Her shiny chocolate eyes, so much like her mother’s blinked back up at him as he leaned over her.
“Oh, Gwen, she’s breathtaking,” he murmured, and Gwen smiled.
“Why thank you! Looks like her father, does she not?”
Lancelot, who was sitting on the bed next to Gwen, snorted. “Not a chance. Spitting image of you, my dear.”
“I think she looks like both of you,” Daegal piped up from across the room. He was methodically cleansing some medical tools and tucking them away into his well-worn satchel.
“Thank you, Daegal,” Gwen said. “You were wonderful, sweetheart. You’re becoming a fine physician.”
“Bound to put Gaius out of a job any day now,” Lancelot agreed. The old physician grumbled something under his breath, but there was a kind smile on his face.
“Alright, alright,” Morgana said. “What’s this beautiful little lady’s name?”
“Elinor,” Gwen answered easily. “It means light. And on top of that…” she glanced at Merlin, who nodded minutely, “we cleared it with Merlin already. We wanted to pay homage to Ealdor, as long as it was okay with him, and Elinor sounds close enough to Balinor.”
“That’s wonderful,” Arthur said. He was crouched down beside the bed, stroking one finger against the baby’s cheek. “Isn’t it, Elinor? You’ve got some big shoes to fill, it would seem. But if you’re anything like your parents, I’m sure that won’t be an issue.”
Merlin watched Arthur interacting with the baby and felt a peculiar warmth bloom in his chest. When he’d been small, he had always dreamt of having kids of his own, but that dream had been quickly snuffed out by Cenred. Now, though…well, Merlin could certainly see how Arthur would interact with their child, if his obvious adoration for this little lady was anything to go by.
By that time, Elyan had pushed his way to the front of their little entourage. “Alright, now, I’ve waited plenty long enough. I dare say it’s time she meets her Uncle Elyan.”
Merlin smiled as Elyan knelt next to Arthur, talking softly to his sweet niece. “Thank you,” Merlin said to Lancelot and Gwen. “You guys really didn’t have to do this. But it means more than you’ll ever know.”
“We wanted to. Merlin, you’ve changed all of our lives so much. Without you, our daughter would never get to experience a world where people didn’t have to live in fear just for being born the way they are. Now, she has the opportunity to learn magic if she so chooses, and even if not, she still will not have to exist in a kingdom ruled by tyranny and terror. We never got to meet your father, but from what I’ve heard, he was the kind of ruler we want our daughter to know. We’ll never be able to repay you for all you’ve done,” Lancelot said.
“And besides,” Gwen added, “without you, this beautiful girl wouldn’t even be here. I surely would have perished that day on the Isles.”
Arthur stood and wrapped his arm around Merlin’s waist, kissing his cheek. “They’re right, love.”
“Guys…” Merlin choked.
“Just take the compliments and move on, dear,” Morgana said.
“Move on, indeed,” Gaius said. “You people, always making me out to be the bad guy for having to kick you out when people need rest. Say goodbye to the happy couple and out, out.” He even made a shooing motion with his hand.
Arthur leant down until his lips were pressed to the shell of Merlin’s ear. “Let’s take this back to my chambers, hmm? I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
But Arthur only grinned like a cat who got the cream, and Merlin had no choice but to follow him from the rooms.
~
The chamber doors had barely closed before Arthur was pinning Merlin against them, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck.
Merlin gripped the back of Arthur’s tunic. “Gods, Arthur,” he gasped, “it’s been but two candle marks since we left. Are you really this desperate?”
“For you? Always.” Arthur paused his assault to look Merlin in the eyes, “But I’ve had something else on my mind.”
Merlin smirked. “Oh, really? I was coming under the impression that laying with me was all you thought of.”
“It’s most of what I think of.”
“Best not to think of it too much. You haven’t got much room up there to spare.”
Arthur huffed, feigning annoyance. “Really? Must you always ruin the mood?”
“You would think something was wrong if I didn’t. And besides, both you and I know we don’t need any mood for that.”
Arthur gave him a searing kiss. “Yes, you’re exactly right. I can do it in any mood.”
“Arthur Pendragon!”
“Merlin Ambrosius,” Arthur retorted, as he always did, only this time, there was a hint of something else, a lilt to his voice, almost like he was hiding something. He hummed contemplatively, took Merlin’s hand, and led him over to the window that overlooked the kingdom, snagging something off his bureau as they passed.
Arthur wrapped himself around Merlin from behind, and the warlock sighed, leaning back into Arthur’s embrace.
“Merlin Ambrosius,” Arthur said again, behaving like the words sounded strange.
“Yes, that’s my name. Very astute.”
Very slowly, clearly giving Merlin time to pull away if he wished, Arthur took Merlin’s left hand in his, thoughtfully stroking the blackened skin around his ring finger, a permanent scar from when Cenred’s ring had combusted with the explosion of his magic. Merlin had spent months too disgusted to even look at his hand, and even now, he avoided doing so if it could be helped. No matter what they did, nothing seemed to be able to remove the blemish, and Gaius said it was a mark of a very dark curse. Merlin was lucky not to have lost his entire hand.
He certainly hadn’t felt lucky in the months following Cenred’s death, but now he saw it for what it was: a symbol of his strength and his unwavering love for Arthur.
“You’re unmatched, you know that?” Arthur murmured.
“Even my charred finger?”
Arthur laughed. “Yes, my love, even that.”
Merlin tilted his head back and ghosted a kiss along Arthur’s jaw. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Arthur took a deep breath, and Merlin could feel it shudder against his back in a way it did only when Arthur was anxious. Worry spiked in Merlin’s chest.
“Arthur, what is it? Whatever it is, just tell me.”
“Calm down, dear. It’s nothing bad. Quite the contrary. Well, at least I hope it is, anyway. What I’m getting at in the most horrid way,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly, “is that you are beautiful. Your name is beautiful as well. But I only thought—"
“Arthur?”
“—maybe you’d like to change it. To, um, Pendragon, that is.”
Merlin froze in shock. Had he really just—?
“Did you—did you just propose to me?” He pulled himself from Arthur’s grip and whirled around. “Was that a proposal, Arthur?”
Arthur blanched. It was almost comical. He fumbled with a deep purple silk bag he pulled from his pocket and withdrew what had to be the most gorgeous pair of leather wrist cuffs Merlin had ever seen. They were clearly high quality, deep brown and glossy. The closer Merlin looked, the more little details he could see. The clasps were made of soft cord, easily removable. And each was carved with stunning, intricate images, a triskelion and a Pendragon dragon amongst other various symbols of the Old Religion.
Arthur was shaking. “I¬–I figured you’d never want to, um, never want to wear a ring again. So–so I thought…I only thought, maybe, the cuffs would be better. They’re, um, handmade and the clasps are made for–for easy removal if you get overwhelmed. It’s stupid; I’m sorry—”
“Arthur, stop,” Merlin whispered. He grasped Arthur’s wrist gently, and the blonde’s eyes rose to meet his, soft and anxious and more vulnerable than Merlin had seen them in a long time. “They’re gorgeous.”
“You don’t have to accept, Merlin. I never should have assumed—I never want you to feel pressured—”
“Arthur,” Merlin said firmly, “I only told you to stop because I was going to ask, what happened to kneeling for a proper proposal?”
Arthur’s eyes lit up at that. He took a deep breath, the arrogant Arthur Pendragon he knew and usually loved, easily slipping back into place as he got down on one knee.
“Merlin Ambrosius, would you do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?”
Merlin couldn’t even see Arthur through his tears. “Gods, yes. Get up here, you dollophead.”
Arthur crashed into Merlin’s arms, kissing him with all the ferocity he had only a candle mark before, against the door.
Merlin laughed against Arthur’s lips. “Do you remember, one cold night long ago, when I tried to escape your ship by launching the rowboat, and you caught me?”
“Of course, I do. We wouldn’t be here had you succeeded.”
“Well, then you must remember what I said to you.”
Arthur smiled. “I believe it was something along the lines of ‘a night with me would be truly magical.’”
“Yes, well, how do you feel about a lifetime?”
Arthur laughed. “I love you.”
“With all your heart, clotpole?”
“With all my heart, idiot.”