Chapter Text
The two years following the Battle of Camlann were joyful and chaotic in ways Merlin never imagined possible.
Preceding the defeat of Morgana and her army left the kingdom of Camelot in a state of security and peace Merlin wasn’t sure he’d ever get the privilege of experiencing with the ones he held so dear. Arthur had survived, thanks to the Great Dragon and Gaius. Lancelot had been saved from the veil; Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Leon- all spared and allowed to live their lives however they saw fit. Gaius was still going strong, Guinevere had pursued her love for Lancelot and now the two had a beautiful two week old baby girl, Maeve, who Merlin just absolutely adored and due to Arthur’s reign of peace many neighboring, far away kingdoms sought alliances with Camelot. This brought many new people to the land, all different backgrounds and cultures, coming together in Camelot and integrating in what Merlin could only assume was the true making of Albion.
Northmen met with Arthur early on, opening new trade routes and offering goods and new lives for the people of Camelot- Arthur’s knights not excluded. Elyan and Percival both had been quick to fall for a pair of Northwomen who had agreed to stay in Camelot for the sake of their new loves. Hasina was a strong, skilled warrior who had been brought to the north by slave traders when she was a girl. Her skin was a smooth ebony but her hands bore the calleouses of a knight and Merlin was sure when she had overpowered Elyan in a duel in the street, the Camelot knight was instantly smitten.
The other Northwoman, though skilled with a sword, was not as brazen as her friend. Fryda was a quiet sort, her pale skin and bright blonde hair such a contrast to Hasina yet the two blended together as well as honey and tea. She had been born into the Northpeople’s culture yet her soft spoken words and delicate hands seemed entirely out of place. Her and Percival didn’t quite fall in love as quickly or as hard as Elyan and Hasina; it was a slow, steady tumble of quiet words and soft touches. But eventually, they were inseparable. It wasn’t surprising to hear at the start of the second year of peace, that both Hasina and Fryda had become pregnant. A month before the birth of Gwen and Lancelot’s daughter, Hasina had given life to not one, but two babies for her husband. Elyan had nearly fainted as he held his daughter, Rohesia, when the midwife claimed another was on its way.
A boy. Respectfully named Thomas.
Frida gave birth a week after Gwen. A girl, Ceridwen.
Elyan and Percival were not the only knights of Arthur’s to have fallen in love and settled down. Leon’s almost three year old son, his birth before the Battle of Camlann and thus being a great surprise to his father upon his safe return, was already the most dutiful little knight in training. His mother, Lady Elenor, had been a visiting noble from the Kingdom of Gawant who had spent a night with Leon after the both had a bit too much wine. When she realized she was pregnant, she was already back in her own homeland and was far too embarrassed to admit she carried the child of a foreign knight, unwed.
Eventually, after the boy’s birth, Elenor knew she couldn’t keep a son away from his father, nor a father away from his son. Leon deserved to know of the boy’s existence, at the very least.
With a new beginning, under a new and fair reign of King Arthur, Leon and Elenor married, raising their son, Aeron, together in Camelot. No shame, only love.
Even Gwaine, though not quite on board with being a husband, found himself knee high in fatherhood. His one year old son he shared with a feisty little peasant girl, Lilith, was almost as much as a handful as Gwaine himself- and he couldn’t even walk yet. Branwen was a cheerful, always giggling little boy who spent half his time with his father in the castle and the other half with his mother in the village. Gwaine made sure Lilith was well taken care of, a fine yet humble home and while other knights pressured Gwaine to keep the boy in the castle, raised like the nobility they felt he should be, Gwaine took pride that his son would know life from both sides- just like he had.
Merlin grew accustomed to a new generation toddling and wailing around the place. It felt right, like destiny had been fulfilled and looking back on all the turmoil and hardships he and Arthur had faced all made sense if it led up to this.
But no matter how great the outcome for all those around him, he couldn’t help but think of where Arthur’s fate lay. Surely a king as powerful and prophesied as Arthur himself would have to bear an heir. And yet, Arthur rarely gave heed to the enticing looks of lady prospects who often sought his hand. No one prodded or asked questions but the concern for the future of Camelot hung in the air like a heavy blanket. Most put their faith in the prophecy, figuring the gods or fates or whoever hadn’t let them down thus far. Few put their faith in Merlin, knowing that if anyone could piece together what was going inside Arthur’s head and heart, it’d be him.
Merlin just wished they wouldn’t.
When he enters the King’s chambers early in the morning, a cup of steaming hot tea in his hands, he doesn’t expect to find Arthur already up, sitting topless on his bed and staring towards his window. He must be in deep thought for he doesn’t even turn his head at the sound of Merlin entering, closing the door louder than probably necessary. Merlin only makes it about halfway across the room before the King speaks.
“Just leave breakfast on the table, George. I can dress myself this morning.”
Merlin smirks, the heat from the cup turning his palms red as he shifts it in his hands, “I didn’t bring you breakfast. And don’t call me George.”
Arthur’s head whips around, his face breaking into an almost relieved looking grin as he turns around on his bed, “what are you doing here?”
Merlin scoffs, “that’s the good morning I get?” He comes around the bed, Arthur following his every move as he hands the steaming mug over to him. The King accepts it gratefully. “Haven’t seen ya in what feels like forever, thought you’d be at least a bit more elated at my presence.”
Arthur takes a sip of the hot drink, eyes closed and when the liquid hits his tongue he quickly brings the cup away from his mouth. He makes a disgruntled face, “goodness. Fresh is it?”
“Look, at least it’s not cold. You’re welcome.”
Arthur takes another careful sip, humming, “thank you. It’s much appreciated. Now what are you doing here? You didn’t chase George off again, did you? You can’t be my servant and the Court Sorcerer, Merlin, we’ve had this discuss-”
“Alright, alright,” Merlin cuts him off, “I may have intercepted George on his way but I did not chase him off.”
Arthur takes another drink, eyes watching the warlock over the brim of his cup as he waits for further explanation. Merlin does not disappoint.
He pulls a sealed letter out from his jacket pocket, the royal emblem of a far away kingdom pressed to the front and when Merlin hands it to Arthur, the king can smell a faint perfume wafting off of it. Arthur frowns at the offered parcel.
“Princess Karine again.”
“Who?” Arthur asks, hesitantly taking the letter, brows pinched. Merlin rolls his eyes as he begins tidying up the room purely out of habit.
“Princess Karine, remember? From the east? Far, far east.” Merlin says the last bit in a way he hopes emphasizes just how far the young princess really is. Merlin still struggled to grasp a kingdom that far could travel to Camelot like Karine and her family had. The habitants of Camelot hadn’t even realized people, let alone royals, came from that way. But they’re a kingdom of ritual Magic and had stayed away for a long time under Uther’s rule. Now, with the ban of magic lifted, they felt it safe to branch out.
And however far they might’ve traveled, Princess Karine made it very clear she’d rather have stayed in Camelot, with Arthur. But for all her advances and flirtatious behavior, the young king had ignored it all in favor of treating her like a formal friend.
She was not deterred.
Arthur grunts in acknowledgment, fingers peeling the seal open and unfolding the delicate letter inside. It’s worse than he suspected, she’s clearly taken to him, and after only a minute's read he tosses the letter aside with a grumble as he falls back into his sheets.
Merlin smirks, “oh c’mon,” he teases taking the letter and envelope, “surely it’s not that bad. I thought dark beauties were your type.”
Arthur can hardly remember what Karine had looked like but he does remember pale skin and dark hair. He turns his head to watch Merlin place the letter on his desk, a stack of what looks like other letters already gathered there.
“Not her, I’m afraid,” Arthur says, seemingly to himself as he watches Merlin who finally chances a glance at him, a blinding smile and twinkling blue eyes as he waves the other letters.
“Well you might want to tell her then, she’s absolutely besotted with you.”
“Mmm,” Arthur hums, clearly not pleased and a moment of silence passes between them as Merlin organizes Arthur’s desk. The king watches with affection.
“Merlin.”
“What?” Merlin replies, not even looking up.
“That’s not your job anymore.”
Merlin sighs, hands planted on the desk as he cocks a foot and gives the king an exasperated glare, “clearly it’s not George’s either. How do you find anything in this mess?”
Arthur shrugs, looking away and he hears the shuffle of Merlin’s feet before the warlock is all but leaning over him, arms crossed and lips tight as he studies the king below him.
“What’s the matter with you?”
Arthur looks offended, “what do you mean?”
“How come you don’t return Princess Karine’s affections? She’s a nice enough girl. Pretty. Magical.” Merlin wiggles his brows at that and Arthur rolls his eyes.
“If I wanted someone nice, pretty and magical I’d just marry you.”
Merlin steps back, out of Arthur’s view and the king sits up to see the warlock blushing and looking perturbed, clearly at a loss as he flounders for the right words. Arthur takes pity on him.
“Don’t worry, Merlin,” he says almost dejectedly, a sigh mingled in his words, “I’m only joking.”
That doesn’t seem to put the warlock at any ease, in fact Merlin looks even more concerned and a little deflated as he regards Arthur carefully.
“I know you want to marry for love, I get that, but…”
“Don’t.”
“Camelot needs an heir. People are starting to worry.”
Arthur pins him with a critical eye, “And you? Are you worried, Merlin?”
The warlock softens, eyes fluttering as a gentle smile takes hold, “no. I suppose not yet.”
“It’s settled then,” Arthur huffs out, throwing his legs out of bed as he stands and stretches, his back popping and a groan escaping his lips, “if the greatest… Sorcerer or what is it, to ever… stumble the earth… isn’t worried about my love life, then the rest of Camelot shouldn’t be either.”
Arthur walks past him, knocking the warlock’s shoulder with his own as he goes while Merlin muses over the king’s words. Merlin figures this discussion is a dead end, it appears even Arthur doesn’t understand what’s going on. Or, at least, doesn’t want to talk about it and the topic is changed when Arthur’s voice demands Merlin’s attention from where the king stands by his changing screen.
“Dress me, will you? Since you scared off my servant and didn’t bring up breakfast I suppose I’ll have to go fetch it myself.”
“I thought you said you’d dress yourself?” Merlin teases but gets to work digging out Arthur’s good tunics anyways. Arthur grunts in response and the warlock snickers at his grumpy expression as he begins to dress the king for the day.
For the next few days, Princess Karine’s letters lay untouched at the desk, lonesome and unopened as another arrives by the following week. Merlin doesn’t speak anymore of it and neither does Arthur but the warlock is impressed by the Princess’s determination to win the affection of Camelot’s king.
The night the latest letter arrives, Arthur’s alone. The past year he has found himself in his own company more and more. Ever since Merlin had been appointed the Court Sorcerer of Camelot Arthur had been reacquainted with the peaceful quietness he had known before Merlin had ever been his servant to begin with all those years ago. George was a fine servant, truly. But that’s all he was, a servant. Merlin had been so much more. Is still so much more. But duties have pulled them apart, sadly, and George did little to stick around after his tasks for Arthur were completed.
He missed Merlin.
He still saw him every day. But it wasn’t the same and as time went on his lonesomeness grew. He wondered if Merlin felt the same way.
He falls into bed, fully clothed and not even under the covers, eyes glued to the stack of love letters he never intended to open. He fooled himself, wondering why when he already knew the answer deep down.
When he finally fell asleep it was into a dreamlike world that felt so real, so enticing.
Merlin was there.
But so wasn’t someone else. Someone Arthur never met yet felt like he knew. It was a child, an infant, swaddled in white and crying and for some reason Arthur felt those cries were for him. They embedded themselves into his mind, tugging at his chest and pulling him in the direction of the child that always seemed to stay just out of his reach. He tried, he did, he searched and ran and called out and-
He woke in a cold sweat.
He didn’t know why but he knew he had to find Merlin.
+
On the other side of the castle, where Merlin still resided with Gaius, the warlock slept uneasily. His skin was clammy as he twisted and turned in his sheets. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his face was screwed up in discomfort. He mumbled in his sleep, desperate pleas and silent cries as he begged, prayed.
When he wakes it’s with a jolt and a guttal cry of a resounding, “No!”
His breathing is ragged, his chest expanding at a concerning rate as he touches his lips and his face, searching for anything that might be real. He’s exhausted even though he has just woken up but by the darkness of the room he knows it’s barely morning. He has to get a hold of himself, regain his barings, but all he can think about is the surreal dream he just had. Or perhaps nightmare would’ve been more appropriate. But a part of him, a large part, tells him it was more than a dream. It was more like a.. Vision? A warning?
Freya was there. He hadn’t dreamt of her in years. She was dry as she came to him from the lake, hair perfectly done and white robes giving her an eternal appearance. She came to him eagerly and for a moment Merlin thought she was going to embrace him. Instead, she had grasped his face gently in her cold hands, pulling him to her until their cheeks nearly touched and her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. And what she whispered to him was enough for the ground to feel as though it had shifted under his feet, like he was suddenly falling and couldn’t stop.
A gift. From the gods.
A boy; who would someday grow to be king.
His child.
As prophesied as the Once and Future King himself, a part of Merlin and a part of Arthur magically combined into one small, precious being.
When Merlin blinked he had suddenly found himself in the Crystal Caves, the glimmering shine around him almost blinding. Freya had seemingly vanished as he attempted to search for her through the light. What he found instead was a rock creation, modeled to look like a cradle, placed perfectly in the middle of the cave. Merlin already knew what lay inside but he took tentative steps anyways as he drew near. When he was close enough to peer over the edge his breath was nearly taken from his lungs.
Inside lay a child. A newborn with wispy hair on his head and pale skin that glistened like the crystals around him. He wasn’t asleep but he was at ease as though he could’ve been. When the infant tilts his chin up to look at the man that hovered over his cradle his blue eyes struck a familiarity inside of Merlin almost instantly.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispers in awe.
“Merlin?”
Merlin’s head whips up. On the other side of the cradle is Arthur, dressed in a simple tunic and looking just as lost and confused as Merlin felt. His eyes fell to the baby and back to Merlin in dismay. It was the most uncertain Merlin thought he had ever seen the king. Arthur takes a step back, shaking his head and Merlin wants to reach for him.
Before Arthur can disappear, Merlin is shouting for him.
And that’s when he woke up.
He had to get to the Crystal Caves.