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Morning came slowly to Camelot, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that spread through the windows of the royal chambers like a sheet of light. The castle was still silent — that precious silence that exists only in the early hours of the day, when everyone is not yet fully awake and time seems suspended.
In the king's chambers, however, the night had been anything but peaceful.
Arthur Pendragon sat on the bed, his back propped against a pile of pillows Merlin had carefully stacked during the night. His eyes were half-closed, dark circles contrasting with the pallor of his skin. His hand rested on his still-flat belly — but Merlin knew that there, in that space that seemed empty to anyone else's eyes, four small lives were already forming.
Merlin watched the king for a moment, standing in the doorway with the tray of steaming tea. The image of Arthur exhausted, his blond hair disheveled and his shirt open, was at once painful and beautiful. The pregnancy was being hard on Arthur — his body wasn't made to carry children, let alone four, and each day brought new challenges, new pains, new adaptations that Merlin could barely keep up with.
The previous night had been particularly cruel.
Arthur had spent hours awake, alternating between the bathroom and the bed, as his body adjusted to the changes pregnancy brought. The cramps — Merlin had learned to call them that, after Gaius explained that the uterus was preparing for what was to come — were intense enough to make the king groan softly, trying not to wake Merlin. But Merlin always woke up. He was always there, with warmed hands, massaging Arthur's back, holding his hand during the most difficult moments, whispering words of comfort he hoped would help.
"You don't need to stay awake with me," Arthur had murmured at some point in the early morning, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "One of us needs to be in good condition to fight if there's an attack on the kingdom."
"I won't rest while you're suffering," Merlin had replied, and the answer was so simple, so obvious, that Arthur had no strength to argue.
Now, with the first rays of sunlight illuminating the room, Merlin set the tray on the table and poured the tea — a blend of herbs Gaius had specifically prepared to ease Arthur's morning sickness. The sweet aroma of chamomile and honey spread through the air, and Merlin saw Arthur's shoulders relax slightly.
"Here," he said, approaching the bed with the cup. "Drink slowly. It'll help with the nausea."
Arthur looked up at him, and Merlin felt the weight of exhaustion in his gaze. "You're tired too," Arthur observed, his voice softer than usual. "You should rest as well."
"After you drink your tea and sleep a little, I'll rest."
"Promise?"
Merlin smiled — a tired, but genuine smile. "Promise."
Standing beside the table, Merlin tried to keep his eyes open while relaxing to the sound of the king's soft breathing. The silence between them was comfortable, filled only by the crackling of the fireplace and the distant sounds of the castle waking up.
It was then that Merlin felt Arthur's arms wrap around his waist from behind.
He turned slightly, finding the king's face buried between his shoulder blades, warm breath against the fabric of his shirt.
"I just had a funny dream," Arthur murmured, his voice muffled against Merlin's back.
Merlin yawned, exhaustion finally weighing on his eyes.
"Oh, yes? In just ten minutes of sleep, my king?" His voice came out teasing, but soft, as it always did when he was too tired to keep up the facade.
Arthur nodded lazily against his back, and Merlin felt the movement vibrate through his body.
"Right," he said, yawning again. "What happened?"
Arthur was silent for a moment, as if reliving the dream in his mind.
"I dreamed that I was a piece of bread," he said finally, "and you were a piece of cheese."
Merlin blinked, sleepy, the words taking a few seconds to make sense. He stopped stirring Arthur's tea, turning slowly to look over his shoulder.
Arthur was nearly asleep again, leaning against his back, eyes closed and body relaxed. Merlin felt a wave of tenderness so strong it nearly made him forget the absurdity of the conversation.
"But what was really strange," Arthur continued, his voice dragging and drowsy, "is that usually you're the jar of jam in my dreams. What do you think that means?"
Merlin blinked, unsure how to respond. His tired brain tried to process the logic of the dream, but the words seemed to escape him.
"I... I'm not sure, my king," he said finally. "Maybe you're hungry."
"No," Arthur replied, with the conviction of someone who had just solved a great mystery. "I think it means you're sweet. Jam is always the best part."
Merlin felt the warmth rise to his face. He didn't respond — he couldn't. Instead, he added a spoonful of honey to Arthur's tea, stirred slowly, and handed the cup to the king.
"Drink," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. "Then I'll help you lie down."
Arthur accepted the cup, and Merlin picked up his own cup, hot steam rising in spirals. He guided the drowsy king back to bed, sitting against the headboard and pulling Arthur to sit between his legs.
Arthur nestled against him with a sigh that seemed to carry all the weight of the night. His body relaxed instantly against Merlin's, as if that contact was the only thing he needed to feel safe.
They both sighed, the shared warmth and hot tea pushing away the morning chill. Merlin rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. He felt the king's breathing grow slower, deeper, as the tea and exhaustion finally did their work.
"Merlin," Arthur murmured, his voice almost a whisper.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
Merlin didn't ask for what. He didn't need to. He simply tightened the embrace and kissed Arthur's golden hair, smelling the scent of honey and chamomile in the air.
"Rest, my king," he whispered. "I'll stay here."
Arthur didn't answer. But the small smile that formed on his lips was the only answer Merlin needed.
They finished their tea in silence, their bodies warm, their minds finally calming. When the cups were empty, Merlin set them aside and pulled Arthur closer, both lying down on the soft bed.
Sleep came quickly and deeply — a well-deserved sleep, which wouldn't last long enough, but was everything they needed in that moment.
Two hours later, the sun was already higher in the sky when the sound of footsteps in the corridor woke them. Arthur grumbled, burying his face in Merlin's neck.
"I don't want to wake up."
"Neither do I," Merlin murmured, running his hand through Arthur's hair. "But you're the king."
"I can cancel everything."
"You won't."
"I won't," Arthur agreed, with a resigned sigh.
Merlin laughed softly, and the sound vibrated against Arthur's chest. They stayed there for a few more minutes, enjoying the warmth and silence, before duty called.
When they finally got up, Merlin helped Arthur dress — always choosing the loosest and most comfortable clothes, but that preserved his king's dignity and beauty, his fingers brushing the king's skin with a tenderness he couldn't hide. Arthur let himself be cared for, his eyes meeting Merlin's in the polished mirror.
"Merlin?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think we can go for a walk today? I think some fresh air would do me good."
The question was so simple, so direct, that Merlin felt something tighten in his chest. He knew how trapped his beloved king had been feeling in recent months, knew how much Arthur hated being stuck in the castle for so long — they had even argued about it once when Arthur had gone hunting in the forest without Merlin by his side.
Merlin placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders, his fingers tracing soft circles on the skin.
"We'll go just the two of us, my king," he replied, his voice firm, even though his eyes were tired. "I promise not to be too overprotective today."
Arthur smiled — that smile Merlin loved, the smile he kept only for him.
Later, when Arthur was seated in the council, his eyes met Merlin's, who was always just a step behind his chair, as always — it was irritating that Merlin refused to join Arthur and the others at the table, especially since Merlin was his royal consort and advisor, but Merlin took pride in serving Arthur and would never abandon his post as servant, even if the king complained about it.
A discreet smile formed on the king's lips, and Merlin returned it — the conspiratorial smile of those who share secrets, sleepless nights, and a long history together.
The council continued, the nobles debated, and the king had to step in for one or two assassination attempts — both of which were Merlin's fault, though Arthur couldn't exactly blame him, since Sir Eric was the one who said the king was "too fat to lead an army." Anyway, the rest of the meeting went well, and their walk in the forest was wonderful.