“Lie back.”
“That’s your advice??” Arthur snaps, sweating, panting, as an unnatural urge grips his body. He tries to sit up, panicking.
Merlin’s hands hold him down, pressing him flat to the bed. “Listen to me, you prat!”
“No!” Arthur cries, hair sticking unpleasantly to his forehead. “It’s your fault this is—happening—you fucking—!”
“Arthur.” Merlin swears. “We don’t have much time, I need to do the spell or you won’t be able to—”
Another unnatural seizing in him; Arthur cries out, gripping Merlin’s arm tight.
“Shh, shhh.” Merlin’s hand is cool on his brow. His fingers find Arthur’s, and grip back tightly, thumb stroking the back of his hand. “Okay. Okay. It’s going to be okay.” Arthur doesn’t call him out on the shake of his voice. He’s too busy trying not to turn inside out.
“Merlin, quick,” he grits out.
And so Merlin’s eyes flash their now-familiar gold, as he holds a hand in the air over Arthur, moving across his hips—then there’s a queer rippling through him, an opening of things, a widening—then sharp, splitting, stabbing pain, and Arthur is yelling, pushing, again, again, endless, as Merlin urges him on, murmuring into his hair, except Arthur can’t hear a fucking thing, until—
A high-pitched wailing squall cuts through the haze, and Arthur gasps, head lifting desperately to see. Merlin, beaming, crying—NOT like Arthur, who is only sweating from his face, and not at all weeping—cradles the tiny, dark, damp head.
“A girl,” Merlin sobs, kissing him, kissing him, tucking the small crying bundle against Arthur as his chest expands a hundred times over. “A daughter, Arthur.”
Lie @merthurmicrofic {270 words} 🌿 Dedicated to @merthursworld ;)
