Sorry, this took so long. I just took a quick break, but I'll hopefully be getting back into writing soon. Enjoy!
Also, you might notice that my work The Prince of Gaef Diddiwedd is no longer posted. This is not a mistake. I lost interest in the story and realized I didn't really have much of a plot lined up for it, so I decided it would be best to take it down and regroup. This isn't to say I might not revisit it in the future, thought it's unlikely, but still. I'm truly sorry if this upsets anyone!
After having spent practically every waking moment with the Royal Prat for nearly the past decade, Merlin liked to think himself to be an expert in all things Arthur.
He knew the exact temperature his husband liked his bath water. He could tell by Arthur's face alone if he was in a good mood or not. He knew, in sequential order, all the king's favorite tunics. He knew Arthur secretly loved Cook's raspberry tarts, but her pickled eggs had always been his favorite.
Merlin knew everything there was to know about Arthur Pendragon. This was why when Gaius had come to Merlin, in great distress, saying there was a woman in the lower town who had passed giving birth and there was nowhere for the child to go seeing as she had fallen pregnant out of wedlock, the last thing Merlin had expected his husband to do was insist on traveling down to see the newborn.
Arthur was by no means bad with children. Sure, he was hesitant and a bit unsure what to do around them, but he had never been unkind to a child in his life, not even when he had been nothing but an arrogant prince.
Yet, Arthur had never once spoken of wanting a child, not until he had confided in Merlin one stormy evening his secret yearning to be a father, the peace of the hearth and the warmth of good mead allowing words to flow between the two that neither would have ever dreamed of speaking before.
That night, he had also confessed, however, that the fear of becoming like his father was too great to ever entertain the idea of having a child, no matter how much he longed for one.
Merlin, on the other hand, couldn't remember a time in his life when he hadn't wanted a child of his own. He loved children, their joyous laughs so carefree and oblivious to the plights of the world, the sounds of their little feet running down the street as they chased one another in a sort of game.
He hadn't said it, hadn't dared to breathe a word to his king that night, but when he dreamed of having a child of his own, it was always with Arthur at his side. He, despite the blonde's doubts in himself, knew the king would be one of the best fathers any child could ask for.
Who was he to deny his king, his husband, such an innocent, heartwarming request? That was how the warlock found himself sat inside a tiny cottage in the lower town, pressed into Arthur's side, gazing down at the little wonder swaddled in a cloth and nestled in his beloved's arms.
"Look at him, Merlin," Arthur whispered, his voice full of raw emotion. "He's beautiful."
Merlin rested his head on Arthur's shoulder. "He is, isn't he?" He reached down, taking a lock of the baby's hair between his fingers, soft as down and the color of dandelions in springtime.
Arthur stroked his velvet cheek with one finger. Merlin had never seen his husband handle something with such gentleness and care.
"You know, when we got married, we promised the people we would name an heir when the time came," Arthur said softly. His cerulean eyes traveled to meet Merlin's. "Do you think it has come?"
Merlin cupped his husband's face with one hand, the other still mindlessly toying with the baby's hair. "My love, I think it would be wrong of us to deny the gift the universe has so blatantly handed us."
"Does that mean…does that mean you really want to keep him? Do you think we can even raise a child, Merlin?"
"I think he'll be the luckiest little boy in all of Albion to have you two as his fathers," Gaius said from the doorway from where he had just finished preparing the mother's body for burial.
Arthur's gaze turned back towards their small miracle as the newborn wrinkled his nose and awoke with a tiny snuffle to reveal eyes as green as the emeralds in Camelot's vaults. It was the cutest sight Merlin had ever laid eyes on.
"What shall we call him?" Merlin asked.
"Finnian," Arthur murmured after a moment, "But I was thinking Lancelot for a second name. What do you think?"
Tears welled in the raven's eyes at the mention of his late friend. "Oh, Arthur, I think it's perfect. Finnian Lancelot Pendragon."
They both watched the little boy in silence as his eyes roamed over them. Finally, Arthur spoke up, "My father once told me that a king is never happy because a good king always wants more. More land, more gold, more subjects. But, not for the first time, I think my father is a filthy liar."
He softly rubbed Finnian's belly until the boy's eyes drifted close as if it were the most natural thing he'd ever done. He then turned and kissed Merlin's temple. "I'm the happiest man alive because I've got everything I could ever want."
So, I don't know where this one came from exactly, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you liked it!