Necropsy

Merlin/Freya, Arthur/Gwen. Set when Arthur is king.

Arthur paces the room. He carries his long strides until he meets a wall, then turns swiftly to continue to the other side. Guinevere is sat on their bed, nursing their daughter, who is just weeks old. She is attempting to ignore him, immersing herself in her duty as a mother, thinking how insufferable the king would have been whilst waiting for news of their children's births, absently wondering if their stubborn son is bullying the cook into giving him yet more food. It wouldn't surprise her.

Finally, the rhythmic thump of his boots cease, and he whirls around to face his wife. "Where do you think he's gone?"

She inhales slowly, drawing her eyes up to meet his. "I honestly don't know, Arthur. Perhaps he has gone for a walk."

He goes back to his pacing. "A walk? I don't know any walk that takes three weeks."

No wonder the servants are avoiding him, she thinks, bringing her eyes back to the baby, Merlin's new found habit of disappearing randomly has driven Arthur into intolerable states.

It seems like a century has passed before there is a hollow knock upon the door. He crosses the room, throwing open the door to reveal a terrified servant on the threshold.

"Yes?" He demands, as if the boy had interrupted a very important trail of thought.

"Sire," he starts with nervous bow "The warlock Merlin has returned, sire. He is just on his way to his chambers should you -" He is shoved aside meaninglessly as the king whisks past. "- want to see him." He finishes pointlessly, for Arthur was already halfway down the corridor.

He looks to the Queen, who simply smiles at him and says "Thank you Geoffrey, my apologies for his behaviour."

"Merlin!" Arthur bursts through the door, large hands throwing the oak aside so it teetered on its hinges. His eyes trail through the mess of a room, finally distinguishing the skinny frame amongst the mess. Said figure straightens up, vaguely alarmed by the stormy entrance.

"Were you going to go straight to your chambers without even greeting me first?!" Arthur rages, waving his arms in exasperation "Without telling me where the hell you've been these past weeks?!"

If Merlin looked guilty, it was because of secrets rather than his mysterious absence. He opened his mouth but was cut across by Arthur.

"You missed the birth of my daughter, Merlin. My daughter!" Arthur practically screamed "What if Guinevere had fallen ill? She could have died and you were off gallivanting somewhere in the forest!"

Merlin took a deep breath, guilt replaced by a strange form of anger. "You know I wouldn't have gone it unless it was absolutely vital."

Arthur aimed a groan of irritation towards the floor, raking a hand through his thinning hair and settling back on his hind legs. Merlin started rattling through his mismatched belongings, leaving Arthur to maul over this new piece of information.

Arthur watches Merlin achieve the impossible by making his chambers even messier then before. He steams for a while, eyes trailing over the piles of junk. Spell books, unlabeled potions, odd crystals and, propped up amongst this jumble sale, a bundle of cloth which had definitely not been there before.

Curiosity ruling above all, he stepped closer to the bundle, hoping to get a better look. Whatever it was hidden in the mess of fabric appeared to be alive.

"Is that -" Arthur paused, distinguishing a shape very familiar to him "- Is that a baby?"

Merlin barely looks up from his quest "You should know. You have two of them."

For once, he is speechless. He peers, somewhat fearfully, at the bundle. A pair of deep brown eyes levelly watch him back, a cross sort of expression on its chubby face having found the source of the racket.

"Where did it come from?" he plucks up the courage to ask, absorbing the tiny form, chunky cheeks tinged with red, puckered lips and smooth skin.

Merlin shrugs briefly "Well, when a man and a woman love each other…" even though his voice is barely heard as he upsets a pile of books, there is a twist of humour in it.

"Oh for god's sake Merlin, I know about that stuff!" Arthur snapped, "Just –" he considers telling the imbecile to shut up, but the words are replaced on the way to his mouth "- Why do you have a baby?"

"Well," Merlin arches back up from underneath the rubble, stretching out his back "I figured I'd better look after him, seeing as he's my son and all"

Arthur gave a sort of anguished cry. "Merlin!" He threw up his hands in frustration "Explain what the hells going on!"

The baby had finally had enough of all this yelling, choosing to unleash its fury by wailing intrepidly, purple faced as restrained fists beat for freedom. Merlin yelped, sucking air in-between clenched teeth and battling his way over to the infuriated child. Swearing profoundly, he seized the bomb and clutched it to his chest, desperately jogging up and down. His attempts were fruitless, so much so that Arthur found himself striding over and plucking the child out of the moron's arms. With trialled patience, The King soothed Merlin's son with abilities he would never admit to a single soul. The cries subsided, and, relieved, Arthur looked up at Merlin's haggard face and found he couldn't be angry any more.

"He's too young to be away from his mother, you know" Arthur confided, carefully depositing the baby back into Merlin's arms. Merlin gave a calculated sigh, not looking at his best friend.

"His mother died in childbirth." He states, ignoring Arthur's choke of horror. "But it doesn't really matter." He sighs "She was kind of dead before."

Somewhere in the back of Arthur's mind a tiny, purple faced King Uther beat his fists and screamed of sorcery. Arthur still couldn't help that initial thought despite how much more informed he was now. "What do you mean?" he says instead, oozing with suspicion.

"I don't even know" The other man briefly closed his eyes as if to focus his mind. It hadn't really made much sense to him either "But she's definitely gone now."

"Oh." Was Arthur's only response.

"Yeah." There was that grim smile again, the one that Arthur was beginning to hate.

"Did I know her?"

"Not in the state I knew her for." Merlin replied, his voice strained. "You might have known her as the Lady of the Lake -" he doesn't wait for the flicker of recognition "- or as the cursed druid girl from so many years ago."

Arthur tries to put a face to words, conjuring the image of the Lady of the Lake. He'd thought she was an illusion at the time, the young, pretty face at one with the water, shimmering beneath slight waves. She gave him Excalibur. He then tries to remember a druid girl. He recalls Merlin mentioning her before, something about helping her escape. It had come up once, in passing, though when pressed for more information he gave none.

"Her name was Freya." Merlin supplied, staring at the baby as if looking through it.

"I'm sorry for your loss" Arthur says, somewhat hollowly, wishing he hadn't asked. Merlin simply nods, Arthur takes it has his cue to leave.

Just as he reaches the door way, Merlin calls his name.

"Would you…?" He starts, his face showing such intense desperation Arthur is momentarily afraid. "Would you be his godfather?"

Arthur takes a deep breath. "Of course." He tries not to register how vulnerable Merlin looked. "It's the least I could do."

The pale man gives a weak smile, gratification words couldn't oblige. Arthur bows his head in deference and turns his back on the scene. Merlin looks down at his son, a warm little body caught in sleep, and can't help but think just how much he had yet to learn.

It's nearly 11pm, but I just had to finish this :) Thank you so much for reading this, I've been wanting to write this for some time now and I'm fairly pleased with how it has turned out. This is my first Merlin fic, but I hope it is not the last.

Thanks again :)

~Zoe

EDIT// After some thinking and a (honestly not hard) desicion that my textiles coursework can wait, i'm going to continue this story. Suggestions are very welcome!