••••••••••ARTHUR••••••••••
(4 months into the pregnancy)

Arthur ran a hand over his face, trying to concentrate on Sir Leon, who was once again reporting the border patrols' updates in his usual, monotonous tone.

It'd be hard enough to pay attentions to Leon's droll reports under normal circumstances, but for the past four months, Arthur had been finding it increasingly more difficult to concentrate on anything whenever he was in the presence of his wife or his manservant – no, his sorcerer, now. Somehow that distinction didn't mean as much to either of them as he thought it would have done, but he was glad of that fact. Merlin was still just Merlin, and still looked at Arthur with the same trust and unadulterated friendship as he always had.

Even if these looks had begun to linger, now, ever since that night. But then, Arthur was sure that his gazes were lingering, too. He knew that Merlin was feeling it, this thing which Arthur was also feeling, but he also knew that it was something which they did not talk about, because that would just open up so many floodgates which Arthur didn't think he'd ever be able to close – and worse, he wasn't even sure he wanted to anymore. The ritual and the baby's constant presence in his mind had changed everything, somehow, though he wasn't sure how or why.

He glanced to his left, where Guinevere was sitting tall and proud beside him, a content little smile on her face as she listened intently to Leon's account, absent-mindedly stroking her belly.

Arthur frowned. He thought he should feel... different, looking at his wife, but there was nothing between him and Gwen that hadn't been there before. Of course he felt something – he felt love, devotion, and gratitude towards her for once again being by his side. He felt pride, and joy and excitement at the fact that she was carrying his child.

But as much as he pretended that it was otherwise, the pull he felt towards her these days was purely because of the life growing inside her. It was an odd feeling; before the pregnancy, looking at Gwen had always grounded him, made him feel a comforting sense of trust and devotion, and he had sought her out whenever he needed that safety. He still felt all those things... but these days more than anything he felt a confusing, off-putting pull in either direction – towards the baby, and towards Merlin.

It was always most pronounced when they were sitting at the Round Table. Arthur was in the middle, with his wife and friend at equal distances from him on either side. Arthur wanted to move in both directions at once, and the strangest thing was that he felt a deep wrongness about that fact within him; a sense that both of these directions were the in fact the same direction, or should have been. And so he was always careful not to move at all.

Of course he would be lying if he said that he had not felt a pull towards Merlin before all of this. Any fool could see that he'd always spent far too much time with his manservant than was strictly necessary, somehow managing to be constantly annoyed with him while never tiring of his company.

But Merlin was his servant, and his truest friend (he used to admit that only grudgingly, but it had become such an undeniable truth between them over the years, there was no point in not acknowledging it anymore), and Arthur had always been very good at categorically separating the feelings he had for Merlin with those he had for Gwen. He was the King of Camelot – if he did not have his self-restraint, then he had nothing.

But after the ritual, all of that had been shot to hell. Over the months that had passed since that night, Arthur's desire for Merlin had become not only undeniable but completely irrepressible; the feelings that used to only arise unbidden whenever he let his guard down, whenever Merlin snuck through his defences with words of love and devotion or when either of them found themselves on the brink of death, were suddenly a constant presence in his mind. And they were slowly wearing down his self-control and driving him mad.

Arthur knew it was somehow connected to the ritual and the child, of course, but he did not understand how. He was pretty sure that Merlin would have told him about any... unfortunate side-effects of the magic they had performed, and Merlin had seemed so sure, and so powerful. And the thought that Merlin may have done this to him – to them - intentionally, was so ridiculous he didn't even entertain it for a second. Not only because Merlin obviously was as distraught by this as Arthur himself was, but because Merlin simply wasn't capable of such deceit. Arthur never would have trusted him or allowed magic back into Camelot because of him if he'd had even the slightest doubt about that fact.

He was still desperate to talk to someone about it though, but if not Merlin then who? Gaius? It was a possibility – but Merlin had made it very clear to him that the physician was less than pleased by what they had done, and Arthur did not wish to upset the man even further. Especially with something like this, which Arthur wasn't even sure he could explain if given the chance.

And speaking to Gwen about it was out of the question. He was almost certain that she herself was feeling none of the same things towards Merlin that he was, even though she had remarked that the baby seemed to thrive in his presence, whatever that meant... and aside from being ecstatic about the pregnancy, Gwen seemed to feel no different towards Arthur, either.

For Gwen, it was all about the baby growing inside her (and really, Arthur thought, he could hardly begrudge her this), and while she was more than willing to share that joy with him, she felt... strangely absent from his mind, compared to the constant presence of Merlin and the baby. It was an unsettling feeling which Arthur didn't like to dwell on.

After the council meeting finally ended, Arthur made his way out of the chamber and was not surprised to feel Merlin's presence behind him, and automatically slowed his step to allow Merlin to catch up. The two walked in silence up the stairs, and Arthur wasn't even sure where they were going until they got there: Arthur's chambers, the ones he kept for him alone, the ones that were now adjoining the chambers of his Court Sorcerer.

Once they entered the room and closed the door, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, sinking into a chair and watching Merlin to the same, a similar expression of relief on his face as he offered Arthur a small smile.

These moments alone with Merlin were the only ones that offered Arthur any kind of peace these days. Of course, he knew that they both felt the constant need to be with the child, too, but whenever Arthur was with both Gwen and Merlin that same feeling of being torn in two crept upon him again. And whenever he was alone with Gwen and the baby, his sense of feeling incomplete felt ten times worse than it did at any other point, so all in all, being with Merlin was the lesser of three evils.

Who was he kidding? Being with Merlin felt in no way evil. He sighed – and didn't realise he'd made any visible motion of distress at all until Merlin's worried eyes met his own.

"Are you feeling..." Merlin stopped himself mid-sentence, and Arthur found himself really wanting to hear the end of that question. "Are you feeling alright?" Merlin asked after a moment, though Arthur was sure that wasn't what he'd been about to ask.

"I could ask you the same thing," Arthur said levelly raising an eyebrow, almost like a silent challenge – though of what exactly, he wasn't sure.

Merlin drew his lips into a tight line, the most obvious sign he could make to show how much he did not want to talk about this. For some reason, Arthur felt goaded by Merlin's hesitancy.

"Really, Merlin," he said, "you must admit that things have been... different, since that night." He'd meant it as a challenging statement, he'd meant to sound aloof and teasing, really, he had. But what came out was more raw than that, and Arthur cringed at the sound of his own voice, almost pleading for Merlin to acknowledge that he felt something, too.

Merlin just regarded him silently for a long time and to Arthur's further embarrassment he found himself heating slightly under Merlin's unwavering gaze.

Just when the silence was becoming unbearable, when the pull of Merlin's eyes felt so strong and Arthur was beginning to feel that iron resolve slowly, carefully, tentatively give way, Merlin broke the contact, his own cheeks looking a little flushed, and Arthur found his gaze slip down to Merlin's neck before looking away abruptly, himself.

"Perhaps," Merlin said then, quietly, sounding oddly hoarse. "Perhaps it is a bit... strange. This."

Arthur didn't have to ask what Merlin was referring to. He was still staring at a point just to the left of Merlin's ear but he could see the other man's eyes darting back to his face, he could feel that deep need twisting within him and he wasn't sure if it was his own or Merlin's-

Arthur didn't realise he had stood up until he heard the clatter of the chair as it tipped over, the wood clattering against the stone. He moved backwards, regarding Merlin as if he were an enemy soldier trying to find a weak spot in Arthur's armour, and Arthur knew he needed to find higher ground or he would be... he would be...

Merlin sat completely still at the table, watching Arthur unblinkingly. His hands were white where they gripped the table surface, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that Merlin was feeling the same desperate pull which Arthur was feeling. Except that Arthur knew he was, because he could feel Merlin's desire too, like threads of gold spinning around the reds of his own; Arthur could almost see the threads pulling at them both, and he wondered if this was what they called magic.

And that is when Merlin licked his lips. Just once, but it was enough.

Arthur wasn't moving backwards anymore. His feet were carrying him across the room now as though he was a moth drawn helplessly towards a flame, towards Merlin, and he saw Merlin's eyes widen as he approached. Merlin got to his feet unsteadily, looking torn between meeting Arthur halfway and making a break for it.

Arthur caught Merlin's wrist as Merlin reached out, his hand landing on Arthur's chest - whether to pull in or push away he didn't know (and he wasn't sure Merlin did, either) - and Arthur pulled the other man to him, reaching his other hand out to fist into the dark, silky hair and he felt Merlin's gasp against his face; his breathing was as ragged as Arthur's own.

Arthur let himself look into the eyes of his former manservant, and what he saw there stole his breath away. Merlin stared right back, almost as if daring Arthur to push forward – it would be so easy, Arthur thought, to just reach out and take. He let his eyes wander down those flushed, beautiful cheekbones to the full, parted lips just inches from his own...

A quiet knock on the door startled them both, and they jumped apart as if burned.

"Enter!" Arthur called out belatedly, his own voice sounding hoarse and foreign to his own ears. A second later, a servant girl poked her head inside, and Arthur felt something like shame curdling in his stomach as she glanced between the two men with a hint of confusion, clearly noticing the way they were still crowding each other's space.

He glanced at Merlin, who was red-faced and looking anywhere but at Arthur. Right, Arthur thought. Whatever this insanity was, it would end this instant. It would be forgotten. They both cared too much about Gwen... his wife, he reminded himself forcefully. This was madness.

••••••••••GUINEVERE••••••••••

Blissfully unaware of the heartbreaking distress which Arthur and Merlin had found themselves in since doing the ritual, Gwen was loving every moment of being pregnant.

Today, she had spent her afternoon walking the gardens with her maidservant, Leah, trying to keep her mind off of the nausea which had been creeping up on her ever since the Round Table meeting.

She had hoped the fresh air would make her feel better, but really, she soon found she had to sit down on a bench, clutching her belly as her lunch threatened to make a reappearance.

"Should I call for Gaius, milady?" Leah asked worriedly but Gwen shook her head, hand still clamped over her mouth.

Only four months into her pregnancy, Gwen was well aware of the fact that she was more in tune with the little person growing within her than anyone could have expected her to be. Really, Gaius had told her, normally the foetus would only just begin to form conscious awareness around this time.

But Gwen had felt it from the moment the new life had entered her body and the very inkling of the child she would soon hold in her arms was created. It was not so much a conscious connection as a constant awareness, a pulsating light hovering just out of sight.

But right now, she just felt sick. The baby clearly hadn't appreciated the food she had served it today, Gwen thought, and must now be displaying its unhappiness.

Then suddenly out of nowhere, Gwen felt the by now familiar desire to see Arthur and Merlin sweep over her, and sighed. Not that she did not always have a desire to see her husband, and Merlin was always welcome company, but these feelings did not come from her and she knew it.

She rubbed her belly fondly, glad at least that the queasiness was subsiding. "I take it you want to go find your father, then," she smiled, pushing her maidservant's hand on her arm off as she stood up. The as usual was left unsaid, as she feared voicing that part might cause her smile to falter.

Guinevere was not a jealous person by nature, and she could hardly begrudge her child the need to be close to the other two people that had been present at its rather unorthodox conception. Yet she couldn't help but note with a vague sense of annoyance that the baby always seemed to yearn whenever she wasn't in the presence of Arthur or Merlin, and only seemed completely at ease within her whenever they were both near. She assumed it was a side-effect of the spell, but she was already envisioning the little boy or girl always chasing after the two men as soon as it was old enough to walk...

Gwen could say without a doubt that she had never and would never love anything as much as this child within her. She would gladly have spent every moment of every day with Merlin and Arthur if it was what would make her baby happy. But she couldn't help the nagging worry that once it was out of her belly, it would not need her anymore.

••••••••••MERLIN••••••••••

After that day in Arthur's chambers, Merlin buried himself in his work.

Luckily, there was a lot to do, and Merlin was excited about all of it. As word had spread about Camelot's changing stance on sorcery, faraway kingdoms had begun to send Arthur (and by association Merlin) tokens of their appreciation that their subjects would no longer have to fear his wrath, and more often than not these tokens would be books on sorcery or accounts of the old religion, or even magical artifacts (some of which Merlin had managed to cause great damage to himself and his chambers with while trying to work out what they were for).

Merlin spent most of his days poring over the tomes, soaking up the knowledge about the Druids and the Old Religion, and learning new spells. Every once in a while, Arthur would even join him, almost as curious about the practice of magic as Merlin himself.

Or rather, Arthur had joined him. Ever since the incident, as Merlin had begun mentally referring to it as, Arthur had not set foot in Merlin's chambers – he would even send servants to summon him whenever Merlin's presence was needed in the Great Hall, or in his and Gwen's chambers.

Gwen, of course, had no inkling of what had happened – or what had almost happened – between her husband and his Court Sorcerer. Merlin had no doubt that, had it not been for that servant, he and Arthur would not have been able to stop themselves. And while a part of him hated that servant for the interruption, he also knew that he would not have been able to forgive himself for betraying Gwen this way – and worse, Arthur wouldn't have been able to forgive neither himself nor Merlin, either.

Merlin knew how much Arthur valued his honour. And he knew how much this must be killing him. Not only because he knew the King better than he knew himself, but also because he felt it.

Oh yes, the awareness between Merlin and Arthur which had begun to form on the night of the ritual was still there between them, stronger now than ever. More than once, Merlin had woken up soaked in sweat, painfully hard as dreams of himself and Arthur entwined and on fire still lingered at the edge of his consciousness – and he didn't always think the dreams had been his own.

It made it all the more difficult to have to see Arthur almost every day, having to keep up this painful pretense of normalcy, knowing that Arthur's yearning was as strong as Merlin's own.

Yet he knew it must be done. Arthur didn't really want him, Merlin had decided; surely he couldn't. He had Gwen, he had the baby coming, and whatever this was between them, Merlin was convinced that it was the spell making Arthur feel this way. It was definitely what was causing the psychic link between them, that much was certain, and maybe in the process of creating this, Merlin had unwittingly opened up Arthur's mind to the part of Merlin's which had been repressing those feelings for so many years? Maybe Arthur was simply feeling all of Merlin's want and longing, but in reverse?

It was a work-in-progress theory, he had to admit, but it was all he had. And holding onto it helped Merlin keep his head about him, and kept him from doing something stupid like breaking down the flimsy wooden barrier between their chambers and pushing Arthur up against the wall, hands on his broad, sturdy chest as he- oh.

But no. No. It was the spell. It had to be the spell.

So the months wore on, with it's the spell, it's the spell becoming a daily mantra in Merlin's (and he hoped Arthur's, by association) head. In the evenings, Merlin would faithfully trudge up to Gwen's chambers, to spend a few miserable yet wonderful hours in the company of a happy, glowing Gwen and a quiet, brooding Arthur who rarely met his eyes or spoke directly to him.

Merlin both longed for and dreaded those precious moments of closeness. Even under the circumstances, he could not deny to himself that the time he spent in that room, with both Arthur and the baby present, was the only time of the day when Merlin truly felt at peace.