Chapter Text
When Godric de Bois was born, the entire world felt his arrival.
The fire in the royal hearth exploded into golden flames that reached the ceiling, and the roar that echoed through the entire kingdom was not of an earthly being — a sound that the elders compared to that of a lion, and the wisest recognized as the first cry of an heir who carried in his veins the blood of two of the most powerful beings in Albion.
He was the firstborn of King Arthur Pendragon and the Sorcerer Merlin — the first of four children, and the one who, by birthright, would inherit the throne of Camelot. But Godric, contrary to what many expected, was never born to be a prince like the others.
At first glance, Godric was the perfect portrait of his human father. The same golden hair that seemed to capture the sunlight, the same blue eyes he had inherited from Arthur, and the same facial structure that, in a few years, would make him as imposing a man as his parents. His skin was fair, sprinkled with freckles that appeared in summer, and his smile, when it appeared, was an exact replica of Merlin's — a smile that promised both trust and mischief.
But those who knew him well knew that the resemblance to Arthur ended there.
Because Godric was, in every important sense, Merlin's son.
If Arthur, in his childhood, had been a quiet and reserved child — preferring the solitude of books and training, probably influenced by Uther's rigidity — Godric was the complete opposite. He was a force of nature, a whirlwind of energy and curiosity that seemed to never tire.
The young prince was everywhere at once. It was impossible to spend a day in Camelot without hearing the sound of his footsteps running through the corridors, his voice asking endless questions, or the echo of his laughter, which infected everyone around him. The cooks, the guards, the servants, the court sorcerers, and even the gardeners — all were subject to being intercepted by Godric and subjected to a long interrogation about their trades, their stories, and their opinions on the most varied subjects.
"Why does bread rise?" he would ask the head cook. "How do you know a plant is healthy?" he would question the gardener. "What would happen if you used a sleeping spell on a horse?" he would inquire of his father the court sorcerer, who never tired of answering hypothetical questions about magic for his son.
His energy was inexhaustible, and his curiosity, insatiable. It was as if Godric wanted to absorb the entire world, understand every detail, every secret, every story. And, for his luck — and his parents' misfortune — he had the ability to make people open up to him with an ease that bordered on magical.
Godric inherited Merlin's magic; it came naturally to him, but he never considered it his greatest passion.
For him, magic was as natural as breathing — he thought, and magic happened. It required no effort, concentration, or study. It was as if the power ran in his veins like blood, waiting to be used whenever needed. He could light candles with a snap of his fingers, make objects float without looking, and occasionally cause small explosions in the kitchen when trying to help his sister Helga "enhance" recipes.
But what truly fascinated him was fencing, dance, and music.
Godric dreamed of becoming a knight and dedicated hours of his day to training. He observed Leon with an almost religious devotion, studying every movement, every technique, every strategy. Arthur, his father, was his greatest inspiration when it came to leadership, and Godric spent hours by the king's side, learning about battle tactics, the art of command, and above all, the importance of fighting with honor.
He also loved to dance — a passion he shared with Arthur. Ballet, in particular, fascinated them. Both had watched a performance by a troupe from a distant kingdom when Godric was only seven, and since then, dance had become a tradition between them. On quiet nights, father and son practiced steps together in the empty ballroom, laughing at their mistakes and celebrating their successes.
As for music, Godric had an undeniable talent... for singing off-key. He loved to sing, and his voice was as powerful as his personality, but not necessarily harmonious. Merlin used to cover his ears when Godric started singing, while Arthur tried to maintain composure and support his son, without success. Godric, however, didn't care. He sang because he loved to sing, and that was what mattered.
Godric had a unique relationship with each of his parents.
With Arthur, he was an adventure partner. The two shared the same stubbornness, the same courage, and the same sense of justice. Godric deeply admired his father and wanted to be like him — a strong, fair, and inspiring leader. They spent hours talking about battle strategies, about the ancient heroes of Camelot, and, in a secret Godric would never tell Merlin, about the best way to "convince" the sorcerer to let them do dangerous and reckless things with or without magic.
With Merlin, it was a relationship of pure shared stubbornness. The two argued about everything — about what Godric should eat, about how long he could spend training, about whether or not it was appropriate to try to turn the cat into a lion. But, despite the arguments, there was a deep love between them. Merlin saw in Godric the reflection of everything he loved in Arthur, and often found himself spoiling his son more than he should, which inevitably generated more arguments with Arthur himself.
"You're going to spoil him," Arthur would say.
"I'm not going to spoil him," Merlin would reply. "I'm just... taking a little too much care of him."
"A little? Merlin, you can barely resist his big puppy eyes!"
"You can't either, you tyrant!"
Arthur would sigh, but couldn't argue. After all, Merlin wasn't wrong.
Godric was the eldest of four children and took this responsibility seriously, even though he was only the oldest by a few minutes.
Although he wasn't the most responsible — after all, he was admittedly the most prone to causing trouble — he was the most protective. Like a lion defending his pride, Godric never backed down when it came to placing himself between his siblings and danger. He loved them deeply and would do anything for them.
With Helga, the second sister, Godric shared a passion for stories. Both loved to sit in the library and listen to tales about the ancient heroes of Albion.
With Rowena, the third sister, he shared the curls. Inherited from Merlin, the two spent hours caring for each other's hair, under the watchful guidance of Grandmother Hunith, who taught them both the secrets to keeping their locks always beautiful.
And with Salazar, the youngest and the brother who almost didn't survive birth, Godric had a special affection. He was Salazar's number one protector, the brother who always defended and comforted him.
Despite being the firstborn, Arthur never pressured Godric to become the next king. He knew that was too heavy a responsibility for such a young boy and preferred that his son find his own path. Godric, in turn, didn't worry about the future. He always lived in the present and loved his freedom.
Godric was a collection of quirks that made him unique.
He collected pieces of armor from knights fallen in battle — a habit Merlin found morbid, but which Godric considered a way to honor the warriors who gave their lives for Camelot. Merlin blamed Arthur for this strangeness, claiming the king was "morbidly strange" and had passed that trait on to his son.
Godric also had a habit of hanging onto Arthur's leg, making the king walk through the castle dragging him behind. It was a common sight: Arthur walking around, while Godric clung to his leg like a small golden parasite, laughing as his father dragged him through the corridors.
He was also extremely affectionate and friendly, so much so that despite his appearance being almost identical to Arthur's, everyone who knew him often compared him to Merlin. It was the energy, the curiosity, and the clumsy way of being that reminded them of the sorcerer.
Godric had his challenges, but never let them define him.
He was dyslexic, which made reading and writing a constant challenge. Words would scramble in his mind, and he would often mix up letters or read words completely wrong. This also manifested in battles — when someone shouted "right!" or "left!" Godric would invariably turn the wrong way. Merlin and Arthur worked with him to develop strategies, and he learned to trust his instincts more than words.
He was also colorblind, which led to hilarious situations, especially at balls. There had been more than one occasion when Godric showed up dressed in pink or orange when he should have worn red, and the guests would politely pretend not to notice. Merlin would laugh until he cried, Arthur would sigh, and Godric would simply ignore it, confident that his comfort was more important than the color of his clothes.
Despite these difficulties, Godric never gave up. He would ask his siblings to read to him, practice his directions with the knights, and always find a way to manage.
Godric was just a ten-year-old child, but everyone in Camelot knew he was destined for great things. Not because he was the heir to the throne, but because he had his heart in the right place. He was brave, kind, loyal, and generous — qualities his parents cultivated with such care.
His father, Arthur, hoped he would find his own path. His father, Merlin, hoped he would never lose his free spirit. His siblings hoped he would continue being the protector he always was. And the kingdom waited, with bated breath, to see what the future held for Godric de Bois.
The first heir of Camelot.
The son of the king and of magic.
A golden storm about to change the world.