Honey Cakes

Hi all! My brain was attacking me with thoughts of pregnant Merlin, so here is a new story! Lots of fluff, some crack, and plenty of honey ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the bump on Merlin's tummy. I love all the characters on this show, so any harm done to them also does not have, er, anything to do with me ;)

This was not, Lancelot concluded, how any of them had intended the hunt to conclude. He watched the orderly line of knights in front of him, not a word of jest passing between them, only the quiet sound of their horses' hooves crackling on the forest floor. This was unusual, for this particular band of knights usually had much to say to each other by the way of hilarity and good natured ribbing. What was more unusual, however, was that their little procession was led not by the handsome King Arthur, looking valiant in his red cape astride his noble steed, triumphantly bearing the fruits of a successful hunt. Instead, while this same King Arthur skulked in the back, an irate, irritable, moody manservant galloped ahead, annoyance written in every line of his stiff form. Lancelot sighed. He was quite sure all that jostling couldn't be healthy for Merlin and his precious cargo.

'He's still angry with me, isn't he?' A well-bred voice, though slightly tinged with anxiety, murmured into Lancelot's ear. The knight bowed his head. 'Aye, sire, I do believe he is.'

Arthur sighed and muttered something about a girl's petticoat. If Lancelot hadn't any idea of the daily—nay, hourly —bantering between the King and his manservant, he'd have wondered if Arthur was beginning to have regretted impregnating Merlin as opposed to a woman. But no, even though the two argued like wild beasts sometimes, there was a deep, unbreakable love between the two.

Well, Lancelot hoped it was unbreakable. But by the current looks of things…

'Don't you think Merlin's being a bit unreasonable, Lancelot?' Arthur inquired, his face irritated. But those blue eyes kept travelling worriedly to the huffing form of his manservant-cum-lover.

Hah, Lancelot thought in an extremely rare moment of crudeness, cum. The little moment of tavern-speak was interrupted when he felt his face on fire, and not from his own impropriety. It was more attributed to Arthur's eyes burning question marks into his face, and he remembered that the King had asked him a question.

'Well, sire,' he choked out conversationally, 'you did forget his honey cakes.' Ignoring Arthur's indignant splutter, Lancelot spurred his horse onwards, vowing never to think of impure thoughts again.

This entire fiasco had begun when King Arthur decided he needed a respite from the suffocating confines of the castle, and more importantly, away from the towers of paperwork engulfing his desk.

'After all,' he complained to Merlin, the latter nursing a bowl of berries, 'I can feel the ink positively seeping into my pores, and it'd be a shame if Camelot were to lose her king to ink poisoning.'

'Yeah,' Merlin mumbled around a mouthful of raspberries, 'it'd be a shame if your tombstone had to read, Here lies King Arthur, mighty hero and King, slain by paperwork.'

Swinging round on his heels, Arthur snatched the bowl out of Merlin's protesting hands. 'Oh, shut up, Merlin, and go tell the others. Then come back and pack my things.'

'Hey,' Merlin protested as he was shoved unceremoniously towards the door, 'I'm having your child, Arthur! Shouldn't that, I don't know, elevate me to non-servant status?'

The only thing he could hear from behind the shutting door was, 'No one, no matter how many of my children they're having, will be promoted when they have berry juice dripping down their chin, Merlin!'

By now, 'the others' had been universally recognized to refer exclusively to Arthur's knights. Well, technically, all the knights were Arthur's, but he secretly liked to think of his Round Table knights as his own little band. Not that a king was meant to favour anyone. Nor was it a secret who Arthur tried to secretly favour while keeping it a secret but it really wasn't a secret, if Sir Midas' attempt to buy a seat at the Round Table was any indication of its completely non-secret nature. 'I'll pay you, Arthur!' he'd screamed as he was dragged away, kicking and screaming. 'EVRYTHING I TOUCH WILL TURN TO GOLD, SIRE! LET ME JOIN YOUR CLUB AND I'LL MAKE YOU RICH!'

'Really,' Arthur had drawled later that day, 'I'm already rich, and Sir Midas isn't even a knight of Camelot! I should tell Bayard to keep his men under control.'

So naturally, the others were thrilled when Merlin had barged into their respective quarters (unannounced, because knocking, as Merlin explained, was just a waste of time. Leon had joked that it was the best way to identify Merlin)

'Are you sure you should be going, Merlin? In your condition, it could be dangerous,' Lancelot had said worriedly. Merlin beamed in response. 'It'll be fine, Lancelot! Besides, I can get away from the whole bloody castle staring at me.'

'Are they treating you poorly? Is anyone giving you a hard time?' Lancelot demanded, the protector in him coming to the forefront. 'No, don't worry, Lance!' Merlin laughed. 'They're not hostile, just very…curious.' He sobered for a moment. 'Though I do wish they'd just treat me normally and not like a rare artefact.'

You're carrying the King's child, Lancelot thought. Nothing's going to be the same for you anymore. But Merlin looked so serious now that he forced a smile and clapped the warlock on the shoulder. 'C'mon then, I have some berries you can eat. Entertain me while I pack.'

And Merlin had broken out into a humungous grin, having the most forceful urges for berries of all kinds. Grabbing the proffered bowl, he flopped onto Lancelot's bed and berry juice trickled down his chin once more.

'There's another one, men, and for God's sake Merlin, this time could you please not make so much noise?' Arthur hissed, crouching down low behind the trees and signalling to his left. The lanky warlock hissed right back, 'It's not my fault, sire, that someone has such a fat backside I couldn't even see the tree root from behind it!'

While the two exchanged insults verbally and lusty looks visually, Elyan took the arrow Leon handed him, borrowed Percival's bow and shot the deer straight through the heart. 'Good shot, Sir Elyan!' Gwaine said approvingly, bestowing a flourishing bow on his grinning fellow knight.

'Oh, look, Merlin, during the course of this pointless and completely childish on your part, I might add, the others have actually managed to achieve something useful!' Arthur said, annoyed. Really, he didn't want to spend the whole hunt arguing with Merlin, who did look rather lovely and radiant with a pregnant glow, surrounded by the softly swaying trees in the background. Oh, stop it, Pendragon, you're turning into absolute mush.

Merlin, who felt rather ill to be honest, and sweaty from all that silent walking carrying a heavy load on his stomach—Percival had kindly relieved Merlin of his satchel—rolled his eyes and muttered, 'Yes, because Once and Future Kings are so mature by comparison.' 'What?' asked Arthur, who hadn't been paying much attention. 'Er, nothing,' Merlin said quickly, silently cursing. 'I said…er…want some delicious venison stew for dinner?'

The starving knights, ravenous from hunting all day, eagerly nodded their heads. 'Oh, but you should rest, Merlin. You've been on your feet all day,' Percival said considerately. 'Yeah,' Gwaine added. 'Let the princess do some cooking for a change. He should get used to domestic, fatherly duties, now!'

Arthur glared at Gwaine amidst a bout of raucous laughter. 'Well, Sir Gwaine, since you're so opinionated, why don't you help Merlin with the cooking?' Gwaine smirked. 'Only if you want burnt stew for dinner, my lady.'

After that, Gwaine was sent on firewood and water collecting duty. The others, watching Merlin preparing the food, felt guilty. The young man was in no condition to be kneeling and bending over a low fire, doing backbreaking labour. Arthur, watching Merlin chop the potatoes, felt a surge of protection running through him. He's going to have my child, he thought with some amazement. He'd never admit out loud, but Gwaine was in the right. He should be helping out; this child was his and Merlin's, together, and no matter how much he liked to argue and banter with his manservant, Merlin was his lover and his beloved. He had no greater love for anyone else than this scruffy haired boy before him.

'Merlin,' Arthur spoke up. Merlin looked up with a brilliant smile. 'Is there anything I may assist you with?' He was met with a thankful nod. 'Yeah, could you please get the honey cakes out of your pack? I've got a massive craving for them.' Arthur smiled back in return and went over to where his pack was stowed alongside Merlin's. Honey cakes were Merlin's favourite sweet, but he didn't often have them simply because they were a rich delicacy and usually reserved for nobility in the castle. However, Merlin was such a darling amongst the kitchen staff that he was able to get one or two every so often, while Arthur often requested them for Merlin's consumption.

Opening the worn leather flaps, a warm feeling spread into Arthur's chest as he thought of Merlin's triumphant little grins every time he devoured a honey cake. Oh, great, now you're stalking his facial movements. Real manly, King Arthur, his annoying inner-head voice teased. 'Oh, shut up,' Arthur snapped crossly. 'I can do what I like, I'm the king!'

'Yes, sire, you are,' a confused voice said slowly from his right. Arthur's face heated up. He hadn't mean to say that out loud. Leon and Elyan were staring at him strangely, confused as to why Arthur had replied so snappishly. After all, they were only wondering if Arthur would like a whole leg of venison for himself that night.

Arthur blushed deeper. 'Oh, sorry, was talking to myself. Carry on,' he mumbled and turned back to his pack. Where were these damned honey cakes? They weren't on the top, where Merlin had placed the wrapped package so as to not crush them. Maybe they'd fallen to the side…

Oh, no. The king felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, NO. As though reliving that morning, Arthur saw himself, back in his room at Camelot, walking over to his ready pack, muttering something about 'Merlin packed too many shirts, we're not going on holiday' and taking out everything on top so he could remove the offending shirts. Then, like something from a nightmare, Arthur saw himself pick up the pack and leave the room without a backwards glance, while a lovingly wrapped package of honey cakes sat alone in the middle of the vast bed.

He'd forgotten the honey cakes. He was a dead man.

'Oi, Arthur, what's taking so long with the cakes?' Merlin called from somewhere fuzzy, strangely loud over the pounding of Arthur's heart. 'Someone's gonna die if they're not in my mouth in three seconds time!'

Lancelot winced as the dollop of stew plopped messily into his bowl. A sour, burnt smell rose from the metal dish. 'Er, this looks lovely, Merlin. Thanks so much!'

Even Gwaine, who'd eaten extremely questionable things during his nomadic days, blanched—though not visibly, of course. Merlin had really outdone himself this time. The stew, formerly a fresh, young and juicy deer, was now a smouldering black mess, burnt beyond recognition of its former state. Percival was pretty sure potatoes weren't meant to be that colour, either.

Merlin grunted something and moved on down the line of quiet knights, dropping dollops of differentiating sizes into each trembling bowl. Elyan didn't say a word when a huge potato chunk landed in his eye, though he did have to turn away and blink furiously in agony.

Arthur, however, was not quite as reticent as his knights. Yes, he'd forgotten the honey cakes, but really, was it that big a deal? Did Merlin really have to burn the stew, leaving it to sizzle on the fire while he leapt at Arthur and attempted to strangle him? He was overreacting a bit, to be honest; Arthur had remembered to bring other nice things to eat. He'd brought berries for Merlin, but they had been shoved, last minute, into Gwaine's pack so actually, on second thoughts, the fruits might no longer be in existence.

The anger steaming off Merlin's rounded form as he practically threw an extra-large portion of burnt something into Arthur's bowl silenced the king momentarily, but after giving a thankful smile (to which he received a positively icy scowl in return) and taking his first tentative bite, Arthur could not keep silent any longer.

'How much salt did you pour into this, Merlin?' he exclaimed, spitting out the offending mouthful. It was so salty he could feel his lips peeling and the texture of his tongue turning like leather. 'Seriously, I can't even eat this!'

In the deadly silence that ensued, Lancelot winced again (he was going to develop permanent twitches from the amount of wincing he'd been doing lately). Gwaine grinned. Elyan and Leon diverted their eyes to the ant's nest slowly building on Arthur's bedroll. Percival shoved his entire bowl of burnt stew into his mouth, an anxious look on his face as he stared imploringly at Merlin and Arthur.

Merlin burst into tears and threw the whole pot of stew over Arthur before stomping off into the trees.

Riding back now into Camelot, Lancelot wondered if Merlin would ever forgive Arthur. Forgetting a pregnant man's honey cakes was a very big deal, and it certainly had not been pleasant when the knights had divided into two groups—one to clean up Arthur and offer handkerchiefs and fresh water, and the other to find Merlin and bring him back without endangering the environment around them (Merlin had been practically steaming when they'd found him)

Gwaine, who rode immediately behind Merlin, couldn't help but let loose with a quiet chuckle. This was quite a hilarious situation. The princess was in trouble with Merlin, while usually it was the other way round. This was some good entertainment, although Gwaine did hope it would blow over soon. An angry Merlin was rather frightening, even more so than very big pheasants. Even the trees seemed to be angry for Merlin and his lost honey cakes. They were attacking Arthur rather violently, judging by the constant cursing coming from the rear of the group. Of course, if Gwaine could see Merlin's face, he would also see the normally blue eyes turn a bright, furious golden.

Arthur sighed. This was getting rather out of hand. He didn't like arguing with Merlin when it lasted to this extent (it'd been two days since they returned from the hunt), and his lover was very angry with him. Arthur had protested, had reasoned, had apologized, but Merlin still gave him rotting apples for breakfast, pretended to take his clothes to the laundress but shoved them back, stinking, into the cupboard when Arthur was at council meetings, and had kept Arthur's sword blunt and his armour a dull, unhappy grey. In fact, the whole castle was on edge.

This would not do. As much as Arthur was a Pendragon, and Pendragon's did not give in or back down, Arthur would do the un-Pendragon-like thing and grovel. Besides, it was an emergency. Merlin was even withholding sex.

The king knew what he had to do. So the morning straight after Merlin had given him icy bathwater, he got up before dawn, marched down to the kitchens and demanded Cook to relinquish a mixing bowl, a wooden spoon, and give him appropriate rations of flour, sugar, water, butter and honey. Lots and lots of honey.

That morning, the kitchen staffs were ordered to stay away from the far right corner of the kitchens. Several knights and messengers were sent by Agravaine to search for the missing king, who had several very important meetings to attend. The knights held a party when they realized that training had been cancelled that day (Gwaine led the charge to the tavern). While all this havoc was happening, Arthur valiantly fought clouds of flour, spilt sugar, greasy butter slipping away, burnt fingers on the oven and finally, finally, wrestling the cooked, slightly burnt, honey cakes off the tray (he'd forgotten to oil the tray beforehand). They were arranged lovingly on the finest porcelain he could find (or that Cook would give him) and drizzled with the last of the pot of honey.

Merlin hadn't bothered to get up that morning, still furious with Arthur. He'd even moved back to his room at Gaius', and lay there, having a luxuriously albeit fuming lie-in, cradling his tummy and thinking of how the baby would have none of Arthur's ugly, traitorous features. Instead, his little baby would have sparkling blue eyes, coal black hair, and the biggest ears one could ever possibly imagine. Yes, Merlin thought triumphantly. That was going to be the way.

A quiet knock on the door jerked Merlin out of his lovely daydreams. 'Yeah?' he called, thinking it must be Gaius telling him to get up and attend to his duties. So he was surprised when he saw Arthur in the doorway. If he hadn't seen the plate in Arthur's hands, Merlin would've told him to shove it. Instead, he settled for a pleasant 'What do you want, non-honey-cake bearing liar?'

'Ah, but that's where you're wrong,' Arthur said, annoyingly cocky but oddly quiet. He stepped forward, kicked the door closed and walked over to the bed. 'Here,' he said gently, offering the plate tentatively to Merlin's irritated face.

Merlin frowned. What? From the plate wafted a delicious, familiar smell, just like…

'Oh, Arthur,' he whispered, the emotions of the moment and his rebellious hormones creating tears in his eyes. On the beautiful porcelain plate were honey cakes, arranged in the form of a heart, drizzled with honey. They were slightly burnt, slightly misshapen, but completely wonderful. 'You baked me honey cakes!'

'Yeah,' Arthur said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. 'Hope you, erm, like them.' A moment later he tumbled backwards onto the bed, an armful of pregnant Merlin smothering his face in loving nuzzles and kisses.

Camelot could relax that morning, pleasant and peaceful again with no irate manservant terrorizing her corridors. She relaxed much as her king and his lover did, nestled in each other's arms, covered in honey cake crumbs.

'One thing,' Arthur said as he licked a drop of honey off Merlin's lower lip, 'how'd you know I baked them? I thought you would have assumed I got Cook to bake them.'

Merlin snorted in reply. 'I think not. Cook's aren't burnt, like yours were. That's how I knew. If you hadn't looked so pitiful covered in flour, I wouldn't even have eaten those things.' Arthur was getting rather offended when he saw the mischievous look on Merlin's face. 'I'll show you who's eating who,' he growled, descending on a giggling Merlin's neck.

Outside, a very drunk band of knights barged into Gaius' quarters, Elyan requiring a bandage after he'd crashed, completely inebriated, into a pile of firewood, earning several large gashes on his limbs. Upon hearing the giggling and unmistakeable sounds of moaning emitting from Merlin's room, the knights all let out a raucous cheer and started a round of enthusiastic back slapping, Leon drunkenly slapping a bandage on Elyan's arm in the process.

'Let's go to the tavern to celebrate!' Gwaine roared, giving Percival a bear hug. 'First round's on me!' And out trooped Arthur's merry band of knights again, leaving behind their amused king and his lover to lie blissfully contented in bed.

Somewhere deep in the palace kitchens, Agravaine was down on his bended knees, pleading with Cook to bake him some honey cakes.

'No, milord, I'm sorry,' said Cook firmly, shaking her head. 'We don't bake honey cakes for just anybody, y'know, what with honey bein' so expensive an' all. It's gotta be someone who really deserves 'em, but you can 'ave some o' this nice venison stew instead that the knights brought back especially for you.'

The End.

Thanks all for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it ;)