Chapter Text
It started as all things are, with magic.
Arthur, with his most trusted band of knights, and Merlin, has gone on a routine patrol, bordering the forest just outside of Camelot’s wall. A very short and a fairly safe patrol route, one that was forced on Arthur, because now that he’s King, he can’t actually put his life in danger. Arthur had protested adamantly on this, saying that it is his duty to ensure the safety of his kingdom and its people. And besides, he was not supposed to put his life in danger when he was The Crown Prince either, but danger just flocked to him and he survived all the quests and adventures he did back then! Even the assasination attempts! One would expect he was trusted with his own life more now that he’s the king and is actually one who called the shots.
(Leon had put his face on his palms when Arthur was telling him this, Merlin was running his hands on Leon’s shoulder, muttering soothing things and shooting Arthur dirty looks. As if blaming him on every single misfortune he ever experienced. Arthur shot his own look at the man.
(Arthur has a feeling this also has a connection to the last failed assasination attempt on his person three days ago.)
Arthur knows he’s behaving like a petulant child, but he really needed to go outside and stretch his legs; the last council meeting was very trying and if he didn't get away from Lord Baglan he’ll skewer the man himself. How dare he spoke out of turn in the council meeting, how dare he say nonsense about raising taxes, how dare he keep staring at Merlin openly-
Wait no, he hates Baglan because the man has barely any brain at all, his tax proposals are inadequate, his face, quite frankly, resembles a donkey’s behind, and he’s annoying. That’s it.)
So, it started with magic.
There was a sorcerer, Because of course there was. Arthur had this precarious balance of having a really bad luck in which bad things keep happening to him, and a really mean streak of good fortune because he kept surviving them. So the sorcerer as it is, is the bad luck, and they surviving this attack will be the good luck. That is how it usually goes.
Unfortunately there’s an exception to everything.
( “Arthur Pendragon,” The sorcerer announced, “You shall die today.”
A boring speech, Arthur had heard that sentence countless times, yet here he is anyway. Alive and kicking.
“But my hands cannot kill you,” he continued, “As you are protected by the traitor, Emrys.” he spat the name as if it is more foul than dirt. “I understand anyone who had tried to kill you would die in his hands."The sorcerer raised his hand, preparing to cast a spell.
“Therefore You shall die by the hands of the one person Emrys can never bring himself to kill.”The sorcerer booms.
“You shall die by your own hand!”
There was a flash of golden light so blinding it hurt.
Then there was a scream.
Not Arthur’s scream.
(well, not really))
Because this is certainly not good luck. It cannot be.
This being the after product of the sorcerer’s botched attempt at destroying camelot and killing Arthur. A bundle of screaming terror and golden hair.
Okay, it’s a baby.
“It’s a what?” Arthur demands, not believing his own ears.
“It’s you as a baby, Arthur.” Merlin answers, eyeing the bundle that contains the screaming demon dubiously, “The sorcerer had meant to create a version of you that would hell bent on killing you. I think he meant to create an adult you-obviously you can’t kill anyone while still needing to be breastfed-” Gwaine snorted at this, “He botched his spell, and got himself killed.” Merlin finished, glancing at the still body of the sorcerer, his look almost pitying.
“And how do you know this?”
Merlin’s gaze quickly changes trajectory and lands on Arthur, it’s one of his ‘Are you thick?’ gazes. “He literally told us before he cast his spell. ‘You shall die by your own hand!’ and all that.”
“What are we supposed to do with it?” Leon asked, “It’s an assassin technically. A threat to Arthur’s life.”
“Oh absolutely Leon,” Gwaine said, mirth in his voice, “You know our King’s weakness so well, he’s very much vulnerable and could be killed by a baby.”
Arthur took offense, “Just for that Gwaine, you’re getting extra drill tomorrow.”
“See this is why babies are hell bent on killing you,” Gwaine shakes his head, tauntingly, unfettered by the King’s threat, “You abuse your position of power. I can’t believe I’m loyal to you.”
Before Arthur could assign him some more not-so-unwarranted punishment, Leon spoke up, “That doesn’t answer what should we do with the baby,” he paused, “We’ve killed all the assassins and imprisoned or banished threats to the throne before.”
Merlin whipped his head so fast to Leon, Arthur wondered how his neck didn’t snap, “I’m not killing a baby!” he exclaimed indignantly, never mind that the job of killing assassins would not fall on his shoulder anyway.
“Well-”
“As interesting as this discussion is,” Lancelot begins, cutting Arthur short, “I don’t think we’re supposed to let a baby keep crying while laying in the middle of the road,” he points at the bundle that is still emitting sounds like it's being tortured.
Right, the baby. Him , as a baby, apparently.
“Yes, as we’ve established we’re not going to kill him.” Merlin gave Leon a stinky eye before he scooted closer to the thing, kneeling beside it, hands reaching down to grab it but he stopped short, "Wait… how do you hold a baby?"
Arthur groaned.
No. This cannot be good luck.
Surprisingly, it was Percival that came to Merlin's aid. "I'll hold him," he says, striding to the wailing baby, he then picks it up, big hand supporting the neck and the head of the babe, before tucking it into his arms.
Percival begins to rock back and forth, this movement calms the crying down. Well, down from the level of banshee screaming to the wail of a hungry house cat. That is, it's still in a state of distress, and probably it has made it its life long goal to make said distress known by the people surrounding it.
(Arthur’s ears are also in a severe state of distress.)
"I never knew you're good with babes Percival," Elyan said, astonished.
Percival gave him a strained smile, "I had a daughter,"
Ah.
Lancelot's expression turned dark, Gwaine could be heard mumbling under his breath, Arthur frowned.
Damn Cenred.
None of the men said anything else on the matter.
"Maybe he's hungry," Percival said to the group, after sometime rocking the bundle in silence while the others watched curiously, "He won't quieten down."
"Well, we best go back to the castle," Merlin said, "And find him a... wet nurse?"
Arthur blinked, "Why?"
Merlin's back with his other 'are-you-thick?' gazes, "He needs to eat, and I don't know about you Sire, but usually it is a very well known fact that only women can breastfeed a babe."
Arthur made a face, the thought of someone breastfeeding him is so weird. Well, not him him, him the baby! But it's him still and-
Ugh.
“Well, there’s no real point in staying on patrol either then?” Lancelot said, from his place at Arthur’s right, “I don’t think we should do a patrol with a baby in our rank.” he eyes Arthur, waiting on his command.
Arthur sighs, “Alright, let’s deal with the sorcerer’s body and then we’d get back to Camelot.”