Chapter Text
The scent of cedarwood and lightning still clung to the back of Merlin’s throat, a haunting reminder of the night that had shattered his world. It was a scent that belonged to Arthur Pendragon, the crown prince, the future king, and the Alpha who had, for one feverish night, forgotten the divide between their stations.
In the cold, grey light of the physician’s chambers, Merlin sat on the edge of his cot, his hands trembling as he stared at the small, glass vial on the table. The liquid inside was a deep, shimmering violet, a concoction Gaius used to detect the unique hormonal shifts of a successful conception.
It was glowing.
Merlin felt a cold stone drop in his stomach. He was an Omega, a fact he had spent years masking with heavy suppressants and pungent herbs. In Camelot, an Omega servant was a rarity, often relegated to the laundry or the kitchens, shielded from the high-octane aggression of the knights. But Merlin was the personal manservant to the most powerful Alpha in the realm. He had played a dangerous game, and he had finally lost.
The Great Purge had not just been about magic, it had been about order. Uther Pendragon valued strength, lineage, and the traditional hierarchy of Alphas. For a servant to carry a royal bastard, especially an Omega who had "deceived" the court, was a death sentence. Or worse, a life of imprisonment and shame.
"Merlin?" Gaius’s voice was soft, laced with a pity that hurt more than anger would have.
"I can't stay," Merlin whispered, his voice cracking. "If Uther finds out... if Arthur finds out..."
"Arthur cares for you, Merlin," Gaius stepped forward, placing a weathered hand on his shoulder. "He is an Alpha, yes, but he is not his father."
"That’s exactly why I have to go!" Merlin stood abruptly, the stool scraping harshly against the stone floor. "He’s a Prince. He has a duty to the throne, to a political marriage, to a future that doesn't include a servant’s accidental child. If he knows, he’ll try to do the 'honorable' thing. He’ll fight his father for me, and Uther will crush him. I won't be the reason Arthur loses his kingdom."
The plan formed with a desperate, frantic speed. Merlin knew he couldn't take anything that would be missed. No fine tunics, no royal seals. Just his oldest cloak, a satchel of dried meat and bread, and his book of shadows, the magic that was as much a part of him as the life now flickering inside his womb.
He spent his final afternoon in Camelot performing his duties with a heartbreaking precision. He polished Arthur’s armor until it gleamed like a mirror. He sharpened the Prince’s sword, his fingers lingering on the hilt where Arthur’s hand usually rested. He even mended the small tear in Arthur’s favorite red cape, stitching his own silent goodbyes into the fabric.
As the sun began to dip below the jagged horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold, Merlin entered Arthur’s chambers for the last time.
Arthur was standing by the window, his broad shoulders tensed. He hadn't spoken much since that night. The air between them had been thick with unsaid words and the lingering, magnetic pull of their bonded scents.
"You're late with the wine," Arthur said, though there was no bite in his tone. He turned, his blue eyes searching Merlin’s face. "Are you alright? You look pale."
"Just a bit of a chill, Sire," Merlin lied, the words tasting like ash. He poured the wine, his hand steady only through sheer force of will. "I’ve finished the chores. Everything is ready for your hunt tomorrow."
Arthur stepped closer, invading Merlin’s space. The Alpha’s scent, warm, protective, and intoxicating, washed over him. Merlin’s inner Omega whimpered, wanting to curl into that strength, to confess everything and be held.
"Merlin," Arthur said softly, reaching out to tilt Merlin’s chin up. "About the other night... I shouldn't have let it happen. Not like that. I was reckless with you."
"It was mutual, Arthur," Merlin whispered.
"I want you to know," Arthur’s thumb brushed Merlin’s cheekbone, "that I don't regret it. But my father is looking at the Princess of Elena, and-"
"I know." Merlin pulled away, unable to bear the tenderness. It was easier to leave if he felt the distance. "I’ll see you in the morning, Arthur."
"Sleep well, Merlin."
Merlin didn't sleep. He waited until the castle fell into the deep, rhythmic silence of midnight. He slipped out of the physician’s quarters, pausing only to leave a note for Gaius: I’m sorry. Please don't look for me. Keep him safe.
The corridors of Camelot were a labyrinth of shadows. Merlin knew every creaking floorboard and every blind spot in the guard rotations. He moved like a ghost, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
When he reached the lower stables, he didn't take a horse. A missing horse would be tracked. Instead, he slipped through the postern gate and vanished into the treeline of the Darkling Woods.
The forest was cold, the damp air clinging to his skin. Every snap of a twig sounded like a pursuer’s footstep. He ran until his lungs burned, until the golden lights of Camelot were nothing more than a faint glimmer in the distance.
He stopped by a small stream to catch his breath, his hand instinctively dropping to his stomach. It was flat, unchanged, yet he felt the weight of the future pressing down on him.
"Just you and me," he murmured to the darkness. "We'll find a place where you can be free. Where no one cares about Alphas or Kings."
In the heart of the citadel, the sun rose over a room that remained stubbornly quiet. Arthur sat up in bed, frowning at the lack of a clumsy servant tripping over his boots.
"Merlin?" he called out.
There was no answer.
By midday, the frown had turned into a cold, gnawing dread. When George, a stone-faced servant, arrived to announce that Merlin was nowhere to be found, Arthur felt a primal roar of fury and fear rise in his chest. His Omega was gone. Merlin was gone.
And as Arthur stood in the middle of his room, he caught a faint, lingering scent on his pillow, the scent of Merlin, underlined by something new. Something sweet, milky, and undeniably fertile.
The Alpha in him woke up with a vengeance.
"Search the woods," Arthur commanded, his voice echoing through the halls of Camelot. "Find him. Bring him back to me."
But Merlin was already gone, lost in the shadows of the mountains, carrying the heir to a kingdom he was forced to leave behind.