Disclaimer: I don't own, I am broke, so don't bother.
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"Arthur, what would you do if you ever lost me?" The question caught him off guard as he stared at his pretty maidservant. Her blue eyes hooked into his, captivating them. It's at times like this, he saw the truth in her, but he was too ignorant to see it for what it was.
"Find a better maid for starters." He told her flippantly. But the question brought a harsh reality to mind. How many times had he nearly lost the girl, only a few years younger than himself, to death? Too many, and the same feeling reigned whenever she became mortally wounded, horror and helplessness. But despite his harsh answer, she chuckled softly.
"What if I told you I am going to die tomorrow?" She continued, a melancholy smile claiming her devilish mouth.
"I would say you're being stupid as usual." However, she did not respond with a laugh. She approached him, sashaying her hips a she came closer. Merlin stood before him where he reclined in his chair. Something about the way she carried herself that night seemed so different. No longer is Merlin a tiny little maid, with a mouth too loose for her own good. That night she walked like a queen, like a goddess. Her serious gaze and step almost made him want to bow and kiss her hand as he had done for many a queen.
"I'm serious." Arthur crinkled his brow in confusion. Yes there was a war tomorrow but she would be working with medics, far from the battle, far from danger. Merlin would be safe, she had to be.
"Arthur…." She insisted when he didn't answer.
"You know, I never have met a servant who so oppositional to her King." She blinked. There was no good humored nature in her expression. It was cold and hard, powerful almost, Arthur didn't like it.
"You're avoiding the question." She told him.
"Merlin, what's this about?" Arthur asked flippantly, but her expression did not waver.
"I'm going to die Arthur."
"You'll be fine, you'll be with the medics, I can't have a woman fighting this war." She shook her head. Fr the eve before a battle, she looks ravishing. Something about her seems to shine brighter than ever before. Her hair is not woven into a thick braid as was her custom, nor her clothes masculine. Merlin was every bit a ravishing woman tonight. Perhaps it was the taste of mead on his tongue and the buzz in his head, but tonight she was far more beautiful than Gwen had ever been.
"No Arthur, tomorrow I'll be on the battlefield beside you. I will take a mortal blow for you as I have done so many times. I'll save your royal arse again, but this time I'll pay with my life. Even if I survive somehow, you won't thank me." Merlin's eyes lowered; her face dropping.
"Why?"
"Tomorrow you will see something about me and my nature that you will hate. I know you will." Tear began to prick at the corners of her eyes.
"Merlin you're speaking nonsense."
"I can't tell you now. I wanted one last night of your companionship before I throw it all away."
"Merlin…."
"Please, for my services to you, all these years, may I ask one thing of you? Just one thing, nothing will change, I just need it."
"Merlin, you're not going to die…"
"Promise me you'll grant me my request." She whispered, her expression heart breaking. It may have been inappropriate but with the buzz of alcohol in his mind and the sight of his dearest friend crying he grabbed her. She lost her balance, being the clumsy thing she is, and fell into his lap. Then she let go and began to cry. He stoked her hair and whispers soothing words.
"Merlin, have you been at the cider?" It's meant as a joke but didn't fulfill his purpose.
"This isn't a time for jokes. Please Arthur, please." Arthur sighed; she would be inconsolable until he at least heard her out.
"What is it Merlin?"
"A kiss." Immediately he opened his mouth to refuse her, but the sight of her in his arms, he could not. Arthur realized there had always been love for her, but he had married Gwen. Arthur had loved her, but loving his own maid was not something a Prince would do, so it was pushed to the back of his mind and he merely thought of their closeness as a powerful friendship. That was never the case, he mused now. Arthur had always kept Merlin as priority. How could he ever refuse the darling girl before him that wanted nothing more than a kiss?
He knew he was married and she, unattached, but one kiss couldn't hurt. His hand stroked her cheek as thoughts of Gwen left his mind. He nodded mutely, not entirely sure why he agreed. Merlin closed her eyes and gently brushed lips with him. She stayed there for only a few moments before she pulled away. But suddenly Arthur decided he didn't want her to. Years of suppressed love and affection came pouring out in one moment. His hand fisted in her hair and pulled her back to his mouth. He tilted her head to have greater access and everything else became a blur. Next thing Arthur knew, he was straddling her in his cot, kissing her senseless. It wasn't his first time but it was certainly the most significant. Arthur Pendragon made love to his maidservant Merlin that night, the one known as Emrys. He did not regret it.
The next day came and her words proved true, she took a nasty blow to the chest to protect him. Merlin crumpled to the ground, Arthur leapt from his horse to hold her close. She couldn't die, he wouldn't let her. And he watched horrified as her eyes glowed gold and blew the entire army away before focusing on her own wound. Merlin mumbled foreign words he does not know and she survived the battle then the war. Not before passing out and nearly dying due to exhaustion. Merlin was genuinely surprised she lived and even more so when Arthur did not reject her entirely. So they went back to what they were. Arthur was King and Merlin his devoted servant. Arthur returned to Gwen and tried not to think of the intimate night he spent with his maid and his wife's best friend. Things return to normal, he returned to Camelot and began planning a family with Gwen, the night with Merlin at the back of his mind. He was a married man once more, his mind and heart never straying, except that it was, without him knowing.
Three months later he learned she was carrying his child, Freya.
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Years had passed and the girls are now almost grown. Freya, his eldest child, is no longer a babe riding in his former maid's belly, but a woman herself. She now played mother to her sisters, the lot of them growing like weeds. Hunith smiled and jested with Lohot, like the brother and sister they were. Hunith was his second and only other daughter who called him father. Then Raelyn was the one who reminded him most of himself. Though Hunith looked the most like him, Raelyn inherited much of his personality, though a bit tempered by her possession of magic. Then Agatha, sweet Aggie who saw things in a simpler light, preferring the company of animals to usual people. However, the sweetness of his daughters ended with Aggie. For after Aggie was Saoirse, came the morbid child who did not know joy. She only knew hatred for Arthur, the man her oldest sisters called Father. The child held no love or affection for him. And based on what he had seen since the child had arrived, she held love for none outside her "family". She loved her sisters and Mordred but no one else. There was something dark about the girl and it unnerved him greatly.
For a time things seemed to be going well, gradually the younger girls began to warm up to him, especially when he told them stories about their mother. He taught Raelyn swordplay, and he showed Aggie the palace gardens as well as the horses. Saoirse, though, remained unwinnable. Most of the time she was glued to either Mordred's or Freya's side, clutching at their clothes like the child she was. But something about her left him in a permanent state of unease. Perhaps it was her sheer resemblance of her dead mother that unnerved him, but regardless, something was off with her. As her sisters slowly grew warmer to their father, she remained adamant about being distant.
As Arthur came to the conclusion that this distance was permanent, the time he spent trying to reclaim her were less and less. Saoirse was determined not to become his, and to remain Mordred's. The little necromancer girl would watch him with those eerie eyes of hers, examining him, hating him. But still, the progress with the other gave him hope. He honestly thought they could all be a family, his sons, daughters and wife. They would be happy.
That is, until Gwaine arrived.
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"You've all gotten so big!" The rambunctious voice of his knight rang out.
"Gwaine, it's been so long!" Freya hollered, hugging the man shamelessly. Gwaine smiled and hugged her back, like a father, not a friend. Hunith caught his torso, while the younger girls waited. Freya pulled away, she cheeks flushed in excitement, her eyes sparkled.
"You remember my sisters; I suppose it might be difficult for Rae and Aggie though. And Seya mustn't know you at all." Freya beckoned the younger ones forward, who curtsied, except for Rae.
"Seya?"
"The baby of the family, Saoirse."
"The babe, huh. I've heard stories of her; she must be the little one. The stories are true."
"What stories?" Arthur noted a hint of panic in her tone.
"That the girl looks just like her mum." Gwaine grinned, scuffing Saoirse's hair. Saoirse did not bat his hand away as Arthur expected her to. Instead she acquired a rather enchanted look, the corner of her mouth twitch into a half smile.
"You are Sir Gwaine."
"Aye, that's me, pup."
"Freya has spoken of you quite fondly."
"Ah, I would hope so. I almost married your mother after all. It would be nice if her children liked me." Saoirse blinked at him, and latched onto Freya. She nodded slowly, her eyes drifting briefly to Mordred. Then Hunith, hugged him again.
"We've missed you dearly Gwaine!" She giggled into his chest
"And I you, little ones." Raelyn was next to approach, hesitantly.
"If I remember correctly, you're an excellent fighter."
"Aye, and I remember correctly you want to be a fierce warrior witch."
"You remember correctly!"
"You were such a little hell-raiser, just like your mum." Gwaine grinned, grabbing the young witch in a headlock and mussing her cap of curls. Raelyn giggled and grinned like an idiot, pleased by the comparison.
"How long are you staying Gwaine?"
"Hmmm….. How long could you girls stand having me around?" Raelyn squealed and embraced him heartily. Arthur had never seen his tomboy daughter behave so like a girl. Bitterness welled up in Arthur's chest
"Gwaine, it's good to see you again."
"Wish I could say the same Prince Pratt." An ache shot through his chest, only Merlin had called him that.
"King Pratt to you." Arthur replied, praying for a joke. Gwaine's smile vanished, it hadn't been a joke. But Arthur was determined not to drive a further rift between them; he didn't want to give his girls any more reason to hate him. But what was he supposed to say?
Sorry I ruined your life by banishing you away from the only woman you ever loved so I could continue an affair with her making illegitimate babies that just caused her emotional distress but now let's be friends?
Yeah, that would work.
"You're always welcome in Camelot, Gwaine. It's a shame you didn't visit sooner." Thankfully Gwaine didn't interject with something harsh relating to Arthur's own behavior, but the expression he shot him was enough.
"I've missed the girls something awful. When I heard they were back in town, how could I stay away?" He told Arthur with a devilish grin. Then, as if to tick Arthur off, he pressed a kiss on the top of Hunith's head. It worked, Arthur's mouth twitched in distaste.
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Arthur had not felt this agitated in a very long time. Gwaine had that ability about him, especially since the knight seemed determined to claim the daughters of Arthur as his own wards. What made things worse was that he seemed to get along famously with Mordred. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that the girls would be shared between them. However this left no room for Arthur. He even felt a stab of betrayal as his sons frolicked among them. Part of him raged like the dragons that Merlin once commanded. He was the root of the family. He had sired the children. He had brought Merlin to Camelot where all her admirers came to know her. He had given Gwaine knighthood. He had saved Mordred's life. Without him, none of them would be together today. Yet it was he who was excluded. Saoirse stopped her frolicking, a flower wreath clenched in her tiny hands. She stared at Arthur with that eerie wisdom. Arthur near shuddered at the smile, self-satisfied smirk she shot him.
"Are you jealous, Arthur?" Gwen asked from behind him
"Don't be ridicules; a King is never jealous of drunken rouge knight and a druid boy."
"But they are both so much more than that and you know it." Arthur grimaced. It was true, those were just outward titles, but so much like his former maid, they were much more than they appeared. Mordred was hardly a boy any longer, and a powerful sorcerer at that. Gwaine was a killed swordsman, not mention impeccable breeding. Both held genuine love for his daughters, no ulterior motives tainted their actions, and that just made it all the worse. Both had been more of father figure than Arthur ever had been, it was clear by how quickly the girls took to any return of Mordred or Gwaine, when even Freya was hesitant about coming to Arthur as a daughter.
How much longer could he stand this?
The gods were laughing at him. They dangled his precious daughters just out of reach. They had returned to him whole, but at the cost of their love. He returned to his own chambers, twirling his signet ring in thought. It was a nervous habit he took on when he had a decision to make that wasn't easy. He imagined his daughters, all of them smiling at him only for him. Arthur was a possessive man, to the point where he behaved so with both lovers and children. Merlin was his, so was Gwen, his sons and his daughters. Merlin had been nothing but a fling in the eyes of the court, and their precious children as bastards. It was not true. Arthur would never say aloud how much more he had loved his illegitimate family over his queen and princes. Then a thought occurred to him. Why had Merlin been so adamant about refusing to marry him, why did she never allow him to acknowledge the girls as his own? His thoughts weighing heavily on his mind, he curled up into his bed and slept.
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Arthur woke to the morning light, no servant did. It was no longer unusual for him; he brushed against a body lying at his side. Arthur mumbled something and sat up; assuming Gwen was snoozing beside him, her dark curls peaking from beneath the quilt. Well, the curls were dark but not as tight as Gwen's. Arthur idly wondered if a pretty maid had been sent for his "use". Overseers often did so, but Arthur just sent the girls away. He peeled off the covers hoping to send this girl with the message to leave him alone, when he froze. The girl was young, only in her early twenties if he guessed. But the face was so familiar. It was long, not very round, the cheekbones high and sharp. Large ears peeked from beneath the mass of dark curls. Her full lips were parted so air could move in and out gently.
Merlin.
She was alive, and sleeping in his bed. This couldn't be real. He gently touched her face, as if she were a hallucination. Arthur's hand grazed her cheek and that silken feel flooded his senses. She stirred lightly, a low hum filling her throat. Merlin leaned into his touch, her eyes opening slowly. Arthur saw those eyes, those ever blue eyes. He wanted to cry. Her full lips pulled into a gentle smile. She sighed upon looking at him. Merlin sat up and gently wrapped her arms about his neck. She kissed him tenderly with those gorgeous full lips and Arthur returned it hungrily. He pressed her down into the mattress, more than making up for lost time. She smiled and giggled to him, the sounds ringing like a siren's song. Then she stopped. Merlin stared up at him, anxious and worried. Her slender fingers brushed his own cheek, it wasn't until then Arthur realized he was crying.
"Arthur, what's wrong?" She sat up with him. She was dressed in the finest night clothes money could buy. Those were the clothes of a Queen. The hand resting on his face sported a wedding band on the ring finger. Arthur ignored her question and pressed his face to her throat.
"You're real, you're alive." He whispered into her throat.
"Of course, love, what are you on about?" Arthur didn't reply, he just grabbed her and made love to her, like a man who hadn't touched a woman in a hundred years. He was unrelenting and passionate. He lived for the whimpers and coos of his Merlin. They were together, that was all that mattered. Her smile, her love, it was everything. Arthur felt like that stupid young man again, the young king who made love to his peasant maid, who ended being his court sorceress. To feel Merlin in his arms, loving him and him only, was the greatest joy Arthur had ever known.
Memories flooded into him, the birth of their children, their wedding, and their life together. What should have been. They married while she was pregnant with Freya. Two years later, Merlin gave birth to twins, Lohot and Hunith. Lohot had white skin and looked like Arthur with hair that was the same as Hunith's. Then Raelyn, his warrior princess, marched from her mother's womb. After Raelyn was a Merlin-like Uther. Then came Agatha, a child who was all smiles. Lastly, their youngest, their eight year old son, Balinor had been born. King Arthur had come to be known as the Fruitful King, a monarch who was father to seven children, all by his wife and queen, Merlin Emrys.
This world was perfect, it was true joy.
At least he thought so until he woke up.
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Princess: So there is how Arthur and Merlin's little affair began. Also some introspective from Arthur about his precious girls and how he feels about them. Gwaine has come back too! Horrary! Arthur has heartbreak induced dream/fantasy in which he is married to Merlin. Saoirse is creepy and stubborn. Not much else to say. Ugh, fanfiction is being a jerk, took me forever to get fanfiction to work.
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Name: Lohot Pendragon
Age: 16
Hair: Black, curly
Eyes: Brown
Father: King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot
Mother: Queen Guinevere Pendragon of Camelot
Aliases: Crown Prince, the Bastard's Twin, Prince of Camelot
Other Skills: Talented with a sword.
Personality: Generally genial and light hearted. The prince takes his role seriously but sees nothing wrong with a little fun. He has a great affection for his half sister and practically his twin, Hunith. He has a strong sense of morality and justice
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Reviews: (Crickets Chirp)
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