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The morning sun streamed through the windows of the royal chambers, illuminating the most absurd scene Merlin had ever witnessed — and he had seen a lot.
Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, Unifier of Albion, the man who had brought magic back to the long-forbidden lands, was sitting on the table with a jar of pickles in his lap. Not a small jar. A huge jar, the kind that normally stayed in the pantry to last for months. Worst of all, the jar was almost empty.
The king had his hand plunged inside the jar and was eating the pickles as if they were the most delicious food in the world.
Merlin entered with the tray of nutritious and healthy breakfast, something recommended by Gaius himself, and froze in the doorway.
"Arthur."
"Hmm?"
"What are you doing?"
Arthur looked up, with a pickle hanging from his mouth. He chewed slowly, with an expression of pure pleasure.
"Eating pickles."
"I can see that." Merlin set the tray on the table and approached with slow steps. "But it's nine in the morning."
"So?"
"You're eating pickles. Straight. Full of vinegar. Right out of the jar."
Arthur looked at the jar, then at Merlin, and finally shrugged.
"I'm craving them. I don't see any problem with eating a few."
"You're already on your second jar of pickles, my king. You've been eating nothing but that for days." The king rolled his eyes and shrugged. "My king, you're in your third month of pregnancy. You can't eat only pickles."
"I'm not eating only pickles." Arthur reached into the jar again. "I also ate two loaves of bread. And a block of cheese. I drank a jug of grape juice." He pulled out another pickle. "And now I'm eating more pickles."
Merlin sighed. He ran his hand over his face, feeling the familiar mixture of exasperation and affection that always came over him when Arthur was being impossible. He was going to kill whoever was bringing all this food to the king — it wasn't even noon and they'd already given in to all of Arthur's food cravings! Didn't anyone understand that the king's pregnancy was too delicate for him to eat whatever he wanted!?
"My king," he said, with the patience of a saint, "you need to eat well. The babies need nutrients."
"I'm getting enough nutrients." Arthur bit into the pickle with a satisfying crunch. "Pickles have vinegar and great nutrients. Besides, I've already told you to stop saying it's going to be multiple babies — you know that makes me anxious!"
"Arthur, it's not healthy to ingest that much vinegar!"
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not."
"You're not my doctor, what do you know?"
"I'm your sorcerer, and I'm telling you that this amount of vinegar isn't healthy for a pregnant man."
Arthur stared at him for a long moment. Then, with an expression of pure stubbornness, he shoved another pickle into his mouth.
Merlin felt a vein pulse in his forehead.
"Arthur..."
"Merlin..."
"You're provoking me on purpose."
"I don't know what you're talking about." And he continued happily eating his pickles while his legs swung in the air, too happy to be bothered now.
Merlin could only sigh and give in to his beloved.
It was time for Arthur to bathe, but no one could find the king, no matter where they searched. Fortunately, the pregnancy made Arthur even easier to find, since the babies' magic called out to Merlin even from a distance.
Merlin opened his mouth to call Arthur as soon as he reached the kitchen, but before he could even speak, he heard a sound.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
A crunchy, strange sound that definitely wasn't a pickle being chewed.
Merlin turned slowly and entered the pantry, which should have been locked but now had its door broken and a candle lit.
There, on the floor, sitting on a pile of coal, was Arthur with his hands full of black powder and his mouth dirty with the same powder, his eyes happy in ecstasy and chewing something dark and irregular.
"Arthur," said Merlin, his voice dangerously calm. "What are you eating?"
Arthur stopped chewing. His eyes widened, knowing he'd been caught, and darted away shyly.
"Nothing." His full mouth left his cheeks enormous. Merlin could very well bite his king right now, but first he needed to know what he had in his mouth.
"Arthur."
The king rolled his eyes, pouting, his posture becoming defensive.
"It's just a snack."
"What kind of snack?"
Arthur didn't answer. Instead, he tried to hide his hand behind his back.
Merlin moved faster than any human should be able to. He grabbed Arthur's wrist and pulled his hand close to the candlelight.
In the center of the king's palm was a piece of coal. Bitten.
"ARTHUR!" He shouted, scandalized.
"I was craving something different, Merlin, you don't need to shout!"
"YOU DON'T EAT COAL!"
"Ginger isn't edible in most cookbooks either, but you didn't complain when Gaius added it to my safe foods list!"
"Because ginger is edible, Arthur! Coal isn't!"
Arthur frowned, offended. "It tastes amazing."
"The coal?!"
"Yes. It's crunchy."
"YOU'RE CHEWING COAL!"
"That's enough, you're shouting at a pregnant person! Worse, you're shouting at your king — you'd better stop this insubordination or I'll have you thrown in the stocks!"
Merlin stopped. Took a deep breath. Then another. The last thing he needed now was his stubborn king getting angry at him when Merlin was only trying to keep him healthy.
"Arthur," he said, his voice now controlled. "Please don't eat coal."
"But I really want to," Arthur whined, his anger disappearing as quickly as it had come.
"You can eat something else. Anything else. I'll get it for you myself."
"Can I have cake?"
"Yes, I'll make you cake. But not coal."
"Fruit cake?"
"Yes, my king, whatever you want."
Arthur smiled — that satisfied smile Merlin both loved and hated in equal measure.
"Alright."
Merlin released Arthur's wrist, his fingers brushing the king's skin more carefully than usual. He still wasn't used to the idea that Arthur was carrying his children, and every touch was a mixture of tenderness and caution.
"I've had your bath prepared," he said, his voice softer. "So let's go upstairs, get you cleaned up, and then we'll go to Gaius just to make sure you haven't poisoned yourself eating coal."
"Okay, so we'll bathe and eat cake, and then we'll go to Gaius."
"Arthur..."
"Cake, Merlin."
Merlin sighed, but a smile formed on his lips.
"Cake first. Fine, I understand."
In the great hall, the Knights of the Round Table were gathered for lunch. Arthur sat at the head of the table, with a pile of food before him that would make even Percival blush.
Merlin stood beside him as always, vigilant, ready to intercept any attempt by Arthur to eat something inedible, like a utensil or a piece of the iron goblet, for example.
"So," began Gwaine, with a mischievous smile, "I heard the king has some... interesting cravings."
Arthur looked up from his plate, where a mountain of food was precariously balanced.
"Who told you?"
"Leon. He was passing by the royal chambers and heard you arguing with Merlin about coal."
"Coal?" Elyan frowned. "What does the king want with coal?"
"Nothing," Merlin replied, his voice firm. "The king is not going to eat coal."
"I can eat whatever I want," Arthur retorted, picking up another piece of his fish with chocolate topping.
"You're not going to eat coal."
"You're not my father."
"Thank the gods."
Arthur was about to respond, but was interrupted by Gwaine, who approached to give an encouraging pat on the king's shoulder.
"Don't worry so much, Merls. The princess is working hard to eat well." Arthur smiled at his friend. "Give him a break, my friend."
The pat was friendly, normal — the kind of gesture any knight would make with his king.
Arthur seemed happy and grateful for the support.
But Merlin looked absolutely murderous.
It wasn't a loud growl, but it was enough for everyone at the table to hear. Gwaine quickly withdrew his hand as if he'd been shocked.
"Sorry, Merls," he said, eyes wide. "Forgot you're... sensitive."
Merlin didn't respond. He just kept his eyes fixed on Gwaine until the knight retreated to his place with his hands always in sight of the dragon.
"Merlin," said Arthur, with a warning tone. "Don't growl at our friends."
"He touched you."
"It was a pat on the shoulder."
"It looked threatening."
"You're being ridiculous..."
"Your body is sensitive. You're pregnant. He could have hurt you!"
Arthur stared at him for a long moment. Then, very slowly, a smile formed on his lips.
"You know what would make me stronger?"
Merlin growled in frustration and rolled his eyes.
"Don't say it..."
"Coal!" Arthur shouted excitedly, giving light nudges to his sorcerer. "Come on, Merlin, just one piece of coal and I swear I'll stop asking!"
"You always say that and you always keep asking!"
Before Arthur could respond, his eyes were drawn to the fork in his hand. It looked so appetizing — shiny and made of gold, so tasty...
"No!" Merlin snatched the utensils from Arthur. The king pouted and stared daggers at his beloved.
And so began a great argument between the king and his sorcerer, one talking to the other as if they were two children fighting over the last piece of cake.
The knights exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh at the absurd situation or leave before Arthur and Merlin's wrath turned on them.
In the end, they decided to stay, just in case their king decided to attack Merlin — which wouldn't be news, but was even funnier now that Merlin just accepted it, fearing to do anything that might cause the slightest discomfort to the pregnant king.
Later, when lunch ended and the knights dispersed, Arthur and Merlin walked together through the corridor.
"Merlin."
"Hmm?"
"You're overdoing the protection."
"I know."
"You don't need to growl at everyone who comes near me."
"I know."
"But you're going to keep doing it."
"Yes."
Arthur stopped, turning to face him.
"Why?"
Merlin hesitated for a moment. His eyes met Arthur's, and there was something there — a vulnerability he rarely let show.
"Because I can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you," he said, his voice lower. "Even if it's unintentional. Even if it's just a pat on the shoulder. I can't help it."
Arthur felt something tighten in his chest.
"Merlin..."
"I know it's irrational. I know you're fine. But you're carrying our children, Arthur. And I can't think of anything else but locking you in a tower and keeping watch until the day our children are born."
The silence that followed was charged with emotion.
Arthur stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
"You're an idiot."
"I know."
"And I love you."
Merlin smiled — that smile Arthur loved so much.
"I love you too."
"But I'm not going to let you lock me in a tower, so try to keep those instincts under control, okay?"
The sorcerer rolled his eyes, but nodded and melted when his king's warm hand caressed his face.
And in that moment, the whole world could wait. They kissed — a slow, deep kiss that said everything words couldn't.
When they parted, Arthur's pupils were dilated and a sharp smile was on his face.
"Now I think we should go back to the chamber and you should touch me until I can't get out of bed for two days."
The idea made Merlin purr, and he couldn't help pulling his king closer.
"Your wish is my command, my king."