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King Arthur and his dear wife, Guinevere, marked their ten-year anniversary today. Their story began when Arthur was nothing more than a spoiled prince and Guinevere a simple servant in the castle. Arthur vividly remembered the moment he fell for her, an unexpected encounter when Guinevere stumbled upon him, naked after a bath. With only a satin pillow for modesty, Arthur kindly ushered her away. Her blush, illuminated by candlelight, captivated him— she was his dream come true.
His father, then King, had revolted their union up and down by accepting proposals from numerous Kings of neighboring kingdoms eager to marry their daughters to Arthur. Consequently, Arthur found himself with the princely duty of meeting each and every princess and lady. Despite his temptation to be rude and dismissive, longing instead to sneak off with Guinevere as he usually did during his knightly practices and lessons, Arthur remained civil, entertaining all who came his way without ever considering them as potential wives. However, it was only when he confronted King Uther that Arthur found the courage to speak his mind. He bravely reminded his father of their family’s legacy of marrying for love, questioning why he couldn’t do the same. Although mentioning Uther’s deceased wife might have been a sensitive subject, Arthur had reached his breaking point. That very night, Uther, perhaps begrudgingly, waved off Arthur like the man did with peasants after a seeing, and granted him the freedom to pursue his own desires. For Arthur, this meant everything.
Uther Pendragon had retired from the throne several years prior, deeming himself unfit for the responsibilities of ruling at his old age. Bound to the castle by his declining health, Uther initially hoped that Arthur and Gwen’s marriage would pave the way for a peaceful abdication. However, concerns about Gwen’s infertility complicated matters. Despite Uther’s attempts to persuade Arthur to father a child with someone else and raise the child alongside a surrogate mother under their protection, Arthur remained steadfast in his refusal. Consequently, a decade passed without an heir in sight.
Despite Arthur’s relative indifference to the absence of an heir, it was evident that Gwen’s inability to conceive weighed heavily on her. She was sick more often than not, plagued by persistent coughs, low-grade fevers, and bloody body aches that would keep her glued to their bed for days on end. Despite the efforts of Gaius, the castle physician and former practitioner of magic, Gwen’s condition showed no signs of improvement. Recently, Arthur had heard rumors of a Druid boy skilled in the magic of fertility. It was said that the boy possessed the power to bestow life where none could thrive, prompting hope that he might offer a solution to Gwen’s grief.
Merlin, a boy of fifteen summers, appeared fragile and slight in Arthur’s eyes, prompting him to handle him with caution upon their return to Camelot the previous night. Considering the amount of gold exchanged for his purchase from the Druids, Arthur hoped that Merlin would live up to the promises made about him. Gwen had eagerly anticipated meeting him, but her persistent illness prompted strict orders from both Gaius and surprisingly, Uther, for her to rest. They chose not to reveal Merlin’s Druid heritage to Uther, mindful of the old King’s deep-rooted aversion to magic. As long as Uther believed Merlin to be merely a ward with a potential claim to the throne, there was no need for further disclosure.
The only problem now was that there hadn’t been any explanation of how having Merlin around would cure Gwen’s infertility issue. Rumors suggested Merlin was in high favor with the Gods and thus bestowed with incredible gifts, but Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling that the Gods might actually harbor disdain for the boy, given his delicate appearance. The Druids had been tight-lipped about the process, and Merlin had remained secluded in his room since their arrival, therefore making it impossible for Arthur to go to him with all the questions he wished to ask.
But now, as Arthur prepared to join his wife in bed late at night, a knock on his chamber door interrupted his routine of extinguishing his bedside candle. Glancing briefly at Gwen, who slept peacefully cocooned in blankets and surrounded by soft pillows, Arthur smiled, knowing how much she cherished such comforts.
Arthur turned his attention to the creak of the door as it opened, his eyes widening when a black-haired head popped in. “Merlin? Do you need anything? You should be resting, young man,” Arthur couldn’t help but chide gently. He didn’t want Merlin to develop bad habits, though he couldn’t ignore that Merlin had likely spent his entire life with the Druids, accustomed to the rhythms of nature. Perhaps what had kept Merlin awake in the forest now haunted him in Camelot, keeping him from sleep.
Arthur beckoned Merlin closer as he adjusted himself under his blankets. “What happened?” Arthur whispered, concern evident in his voice. Merlin stood by his bedside, lips pressed tightly together, gazing at Arthur through long lashes.
“The room is too big, I don’t like being alone in there,” Merlin whispered back, his fingers fidgeting with the corner of Arthur’s top blanket. “Can I sleep with you?” Arthur was surprised by Merlin’s admission. On one hand, he felt proud of Merlin for stepping out of his room and being sociable, but on the other hand, he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation. Gwen had always been the more sensible one in their marriage, but he decided to pat the spot between him and Guinevere, inviting Merlin to join them. He watched with warmth in his chest as Merlin crawled into the space, like a tired cat seeking comfort after a long day of sleeping.
As Arthur lay there, feeling the warmth of the young boy pressed against his side as Merlin had taken the invitation into bed as an invitation to snuggle, he couldn’t help but feel a strange stirring in his loins. He glanced over at Gwen, who seemed to be just as asleep as she’d been for the past few hours, her breathing steady, then he turned back to Merlin, wondering if this was just a natural reaction to the closeness of another human body. Arguably, Arthur and Gwen had not been intimate in a long time due to her frequent illnesses. It had been difficult for Gwen to even receive a hug, as her body aches often made movement unbearable. Arthur understood her struggles, but that didn’t change his own desires. However, he had always been firm in his resolve not to take a second wife or hire a prostitute. So, all Arthur could do was suppress his bodily reactions and focus on comforting Merlin instead.
“You poor thing,” Arthur whispered, caressing Merlin’s back. “I can understand why you would be feeling uneasy in such a big room by yourself.” His fingers traced soft circles on Merlin’s back in an attempt at calming the boy’s worries. “You don’t need to worry though. You have us now— both of us.”
Merlin blinked up at Arthur, his eyes wide and innocent, framed by his long, dark lashes. Their lips were only inches apart this way, and Arthur could feel the warmth of Merlin's breath on his face. The young boy's head rested on Arthur's pecs, where his hand continued to draw random circles onto Arthur's clothed chest. "Can I call you Daddy then?" Merlin asked innocently, his voice barely above a whisper.
Arthur hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the request. But then he thought about it and realized that Merlin was indeed just a child, despite his maturity and the rumors surrounding his abilities. "I think you're a bit too old for that, Merlin. You can certainly call me father or dad for now, whichever fits your liking," he responded, trying to maintain some semblance of formality under the circumstances.
But Merlin shook his head, looking up at Arthur through those long lashes once more. There was a determined look in his eyes as he spoke, his voice still low and whiny. "Daddy fits my taste better," he said very matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument. Arthur felt a mixture of surprise and excitement wash over him. He had never considered himself as someone's 'daddy' before, but maybe that was all that parenting meant, that sometimes you could find yourself doing things you had never thought of doing.
Though they hadn’t acquired Merlin from the Druids with the intention of adopting him as their own, caring for him offered a valuable practice run for when their own child would reach Merlin’s age. Arthur hadn’t experienced the best childhood himself, so this presented an opportunity for him to learn patience, at the very least.
“Is Guinevere going to be your mommy then?” Arthur asked curiously, trying to understand the dynamic that was forming between them.
Merlin looked away for a moment, seemingly lost in thought before delicately shaking his head. “No,” Merlin answered quietly, his voice barely audible.
“I’m afraid that Gwen would not be very happy then,” Arthur whispered back, concern etching itself across his features. Merlin said nothing in response, but instead leaned up until their lips met, their bodies pressed tightly together. The kiss was brief, a mere peck of the lips. Arthur pulled back instantly, pushing Merlin gently away from him, out of a sense of responsibility and duty.
As Arthur separated from Merlin, he used his free hand to make a weak attempt at wiping his lips clean, as if attempting to erase the memory of Merlin’s innocent — but impulsive — act. "What are you doing, Merlin?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion and uncertainty.
"Kissing," Merlin said, his voice steady and unapologetic. His gaze locked with Arthur's, daring him to deny that for a brief moment, Arthur had instinctively responded to the kiss.
"Is that something your Druids taught you?" Arthur asked, trying to make sense of the situation. He couldn't deny that Merlin was entirely his type when it came to men— the boy's big, innocent eyes, long eyelashes, and ruffled hair combined with his slender frame made him irresistibly attractive. However, Arthur knew that Merlin was too young, and that he and Gwen had not taken Merlin in for such perverse motives.
"Mhm," Merlin answered honestly, his eyes never leaving Arthur's. Instead of leaning up for another kiss, he shifted his position until he found himself straddling Arthur's hips. Both of them were only clad in loose night tunics, leaving little to the imagination. As their bodies pressed against each other, their members brushed together, causing Merlin to visibly shiver in response to the friction.
Arthur gaped at the sight before him, trying to process what Merlin was saying. "We didn't bring you here for this," he stammered, struggling to find the right words.
"You needed an heir, did you not?" Merlin's head tilted slightly as he asked the question, his expression betraying no hint of embarrassment or shame. "I'm here to help you make one," he continued, his voice matter-of-fact as if Arthur had been stupid to even assume otherwise.
Arthur must have looked entirely too bewildered, because Merlin giggled at him as if this was nothing but mere child's play to him. Using both of his small hands, he grabbed one of Arthur's larger ones and brought it to rest on his flat stomach. "You asked the Druids for an heir, I'm here to birth one for you," Merlin said smartly, as if that much should have been obvious.
“Merlin, you're a boy," was all Arthur could mutter in return, feeling utterly confused by the situation. "Even if you were a maiden, you're entirely too young for such things," he added firmly, trying to reassert control over the situation. Merlin's rocking back and forth in his lap only served to further cloud his thoughts.
"I can be any age you need me to be," Merlin whispered seductively, his eyes sparkling with mischief. And just like that, the scene before Arthur changed. One moment, there was a small five-year-old with shoulder-length hair sitting in his lap, and the next, a more mature version of Merlin took its place. Each time Arthur blinked, a new version of Merlin appeared, each one different from the last.
As the transformations continued, Arthur felt his mind spinning in confusion. But then, just as quickly as it began, the metamorphosis stopped, and Merlin returned to his original form— a 15- year-old Druid boy. "When I heard you were coming for me, I thought you would like this one the best though because all the other men did too," Merlin said, his tone playful and teasing.
Arthur couldn't deny that Merlin's ability to shapeshift was fascinating, but it also made him question everything. Was Merlin truly no older than 15 summers? Was this his true form, or one he had borrowed?
The moon shone its light over the bed from a distant window, casting long shadows across the room. As Arthur watched, he noticed a striking change take place in Merlin's beautiful blue eyes— they began to glow with a predatory golden hue. Unable to resist, Arthur reached up a trembling hand to cup Merlin's cheek into his palm, using his thumb to gently stroke the boy's cheek right underneath his eye.
"You're not a Druid..." Arthur breathed out, his eyes wide with wonder and disbelief. Could this mean that Merlin was perhaps even more powerful than a Druid? Yet, the question remained: Why would the Druids sell Merlin to them so easily?
With a smirk playing on his lips, Merlin answered, "I'm a sorcerer." His smile eased into one of contentment, akin to a tired soul finding comfort in the gentle embrace of a familiar melody. Leaning closer to Arthur, he took the King's hand away from his stomach and held it close to his chest instead, hugging it desperately. "King Arthur, I can move mountains for you. I can command dragons for you, I can kill an army for you— I can even make you immortal," Merlin confessed, his voice low and seductive. "But I need something in return."
Arthur's heart raced at the thought of what Merlin could do for him, as well as the price he demanded. Despite the gravity of the situation, the king found himself oddly exhilarated by the prospect of having such incredible power at his fingertips. "Anything you want," he replied before he could think, feeling as though he was under some sort of spell, entranced by Merlin's words.
Merlin's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Give me a baby, and give me political power. Even better if your wife is no longer. She's sick anyway, my King. We both know she doesn't have much time left to live." Arthur's breath caught in his throat as he processed Merlin's request.
Gwen… his beloved wife, who had stood by him through thick and thin. The thought of losing her was unbearable, yet the promise of power and the mysterious abilities that Merlin possessed tugged at him relentlessly. He hesitated, torn between loyalty and ambition.
Arthur pondered why Merlin needed political power so badly— the power to alter long-standing laws dating back to Uther’s reign. Upon assuming the throne, Arthur found no immediate need for such drastic reforms. Merlin’s desperation was obvious, enough to risk his life, yet Arthur felt surprisingly calm. Despite the unusual circumstances, Arthur remained relaxed, as though he could adapt to whatever Merlin desired, like soft clay waiting to be molded.
Looking to his right, Arthur suddenly struggled to recall the identity of the person sleeping in his bed. It was a dark-skinned woman, her body turned away from him, enveloped in the luxurious softness of pillows and blankets. But why was she there? “Arthur?” A melodic voice interrupted his thoughts, drawing his attention to Merlin, who lay on top of him, smiling down. “Why is there a woman in our bed?” Merlin’s frown deepened, causing Arthur to worry.
“I’m not sure,” Arthur admitted, feeling a pang of confusion. Had he been unfaithful with the servants again? But he had Merlin now… how long had they been together? Why couldn’t he remember? Arthur hoped Merlin wouldn’t be too upset with him for his forgetfulness; after all, he was older and prone to lapses in memory.
“You’re not sure?” Merlin’s voice carried a firm tone, tinged with a hint of whine. “Then you wouldn’t mind calling the guards to have her removed and the bed stripped and remade, would you, my love?”
“Of course not, my Merlin,” Arthur replied, unaware of the golden glow in his own eyes as he gazed up at Merlin with the smile of a fool in love on his lips.