Author's Note: This is me shamelessly making fun of any and all Merthur M-Preg fics, and just bad writing all together. It's all in good fun, but if you think it's going to offend you, there's the back button. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Probably going to be a few chapters long at least, so this is just an introduction. I'm curious to see what kind of reception it gets. I haven't really decided how far I wanna go yet. Anyway…enjoy :D
It was a beautiful, 'the sky is blue, the birds are singing' sort of day. The exact, cliché' setting all stories like this seemed to begin with. Merlin Emrys sat under a tree with his lover, Arthur Pendragon. No, Emrys wasn't really his last name, but since he didn't have one, we'd prefer to come up with a substitute rather than explain the fact that bastard children don't have last names, and we thought we'd just use his druid name to make ourselves look clever. Did it work?
Besides, repeatedly reminding my readers of who the main character is in every sentence just tends to spice up my inadequate description.
Ah, Merlin sighed, snuggling further into Arthur's chest. I don't think I've ever been this happy.' He placed his hand gently upon his swollen belly, eyes bright with dreams of his child's first breaths. He was about seven months along, and though it was uncomfortable to move about at times, the sacrifice was well worth it. He was so glad he'd been able to use his magic to conceive a baby in his non-existent womb, in ways the creator of this story would never even attempt to explain. He was nervous, of course, and there were still a few kinks to work through. Like how the fuck they were supposed to get the baby out, for example, but, meh. One step at time, he always liked to say. Maybe they'd just go the Twilight route and wait for it to rip itself out of his stomach. No big deal.
Arthur kissed the top of his head and pulled him closer, arms circling around to cradle their unborn child, sleeping in his lover's, uhm…womb. "Merlin, my love, how did we get so lucky? How did we come to deserve such happiness?"
"I don't know, Arty-kins, but it's a good thing your father died, huh? He never would have let us be together."
"True, that. I'm so happy he's gone, never mind the fact that being happy about my father's death is grossly unlike me. I'm just glad he died so I could be the King of Camelot, and that I'm expecting a child with my darling husband/manservant."
Merlin chuckled. "That sentence was so much what-the-fuckery all wrapped up in one, I'm surprised the reader's heads aren't exploding as we speak."
Arthur grimaced. "Now doesn't that just paint a picture? Ugh. But, I suppose gruesomeness is inevitable in this story. Have you thought about how we're going to get the baby out? I mean, really, what is it doing? Chilling out in your digestive tract?"
Merlin frowned. There it was again. How was he supposed to know? He didn't even fully understand how he'd gotten himself pregnant in the first place, since he didn't have a god damn womb, and no, I am never going to stop harping about the lack of womb.
The King of Camelot tightened his grip on Merlin, protective. "Don't worry, we'll think of something. What's the worst that could happen?"
Horrible, gristly images of his tragic demise flashed through his head.
Okay. So maybe he hadn't really thought this through.