Happy Merlin Holidays, elirwen! [2/2]

[merlin-hols.livejournal.com]

“But, Gaius, don’t you think it’s weird?” asked Merlin. He knelt before a troop of field mushrooms growing beneath an old oak tree and started filling his basket. The recent rains had produced astonishing white outs the likes of which Merlin had never seen; there were enough mushrooms to feed the entire kingdom for years.

He couldn’t help but remember Kilgharrah’s words: The white dragon bodes well for Albion.

Gaius followed him through the fields, watching like a hawk. Merlin had the uncanny knack of tripping over poisonous fungi, and Gaius was keen to replenish his stores of death cap. Merlin hadn’t asked why, but he hoped it had something to do with Agravaine. “Merlin, the plain fact is: men carry fat around the waist. Arthur probably just takes after his father.”

“But he looks like he’s swallowed a pig’s bladder!” said Merlin, shaking his head in bafflement. “And I swear it’s getting bigger every time I look. For goodness’ sake don’t tell him this, but I’ve had to let out his trousers three times now and they’re still a tight squeeze.”

“Arthur’s a new king with many responsibilities and precious little time for physical activity,” said Gaius, with just a hint of acerbity. “A touch of corpulence is to be expected.”

“Oh, Gaius, don’t use that word around Arthur,” Merlin said, a shudder quaking across his shoulders. “He’s been training with the others as much as possible, and when he’s not waving his sword at decoys or destroying his punching bag, he’s pacing the length of the castle ten times a day or dashing about on important kingly missions or visiting every village in the kingdom.” Merlin threw up his hands in exasperation, then paused in thought. “He has been gorging himself on blackberry fool, I suppose -- the blackberries are so juicy this year! -- but then I’ve been gorging too, and I’m the same stick as always.”

“Your time will come, Merlin.” Gaius gave him a decidedly patronising pat on the head. “Just you wait.”

&&&

Samhain brought the return of Lancelot, right in the middle of the great feast.

It had been a peaceful event by Camelot’s standards. Arthur had gone crown in hand to the kitchen to beg that cockentrice be banished from the royal table, and Cook had reluctantly agreed. Emboldened by the unexpected success, he suggested a fire-breathing peacock in the place of the dread rooster-pig; the faces of the kitchenhands had thrilled to the possibilities.

Quite how an incendiary peacock could tear the veil between the worlds Arthur could not guess, but he suspected it had something to do with the potent mixture of feathers, camphor, gold leaf and great lashings of aqua vita. Merlin dropped the platter, naturally, and all hell broke loose.

It was just a small rip, enough to allow passage of one bedraggled knight and a host of Dorocha. Thanks to the burning coverts discharged by the unfortunate peafowl in all directions, no one in the dining hall fell prey to the spirits’ shrieks -- although there were some singed garments amongst the guests. They huddled back against the walls, gathering with the servants in safety beneath the torches; two ladies even took a dazed Merlin by the ankles and dragged him closer to the light.

Arthur shouted orders for the guards to disperse throughout the castle and into the lower town with lighted torches, and the knights swiftly followed. All of Camelot was awake with merriment and bright with the bonfires of Samhain, but Arthur would take no chances with the lives of his people; the guards must march door to door to alert and protect the populace. “Send out riders to the outlying villages -- they must be warned!” he called, and Leon nodded grimly. It was going to be a long night.

Gwen snatched a torch from the wall and dropped to her knees in tears beside Lancelot, who lay stupefied upon the flagstones; she raised him up in one arm and pulled his brow to her breast. Arthur stepped between them and the black rent in the air. He stared at Merlin in anguish, but he knew what he must do.

“Arthur, no!” Merlin screamed, trying to shake off his rescuers. Gwen tossed her torch aside and made a grab for the sweep of Arthur’s cloak, holding it tight, but it was the Cailleach herself who checked him with the barrier of her great staff.

“This is not the Isle of the Blessed. What is your purpose here?” said Arthur, impatient to have the sacrifice done with now that his decision was made.

She smiled, baring her teeth. “I’m waiting.”

“What for?” he asked, and then there was outcry as Agravaine ran forward and kicked Gwen down. All gaped in astonishment and disgust as he took up Gwen’s torch, brandished the flame at his nephew -- his King -- and shoved him towards the torn veil.

“This cur will do,” said the Cailleach. She shrugged Arthur aside and took Agravaine by the hair, hurling him with effortless strength through the tear. “He is of a darkness better suited to the land of the dead.”

&&&

She disappeared, and the tear with her.

Arthur yanked off his burning cloak and stamped the fire out. Gaius arrived with his medical bag, but Arthur pointed him in Lancelot’s direction before he could start fussing over Arthur.

“I think he’s all right, Gaius,” said Gwen. She held Lancelot’s head cradled upon her lap as if she would never release him again, and he nuzzled into her softness with a sleepy smile. “He’s really here and he’s all right. I can’t believe it.”

“It’s a miracle, my dear,” Gaius said, passing her a handkerchief to blow her nose. He checked Lancelot’s vitals and examined him for breaks or bruises, but there was nothing ill to be found.

“I’m so glad, Gwen,” said Arthur. He crouched beside her and clasped first her shoulder, then Lancelot’s. “He came back for you.”

“I think so too,” Gwen said, giving him a watery grin, “but I might make some leg shackles just in case.”

“That reminds me,” said Arthur, feeling the blood drain from his face, “where the hell is Merlin?”

&&&

Once he saw Arthur safe, Merlin raced outside and shouted his appeal to the night’s sky.

Kilgharrah strafed the countryside at Merlin’s command, dogging the Dorocha with his fiery breath until every last one was cast back into oblivion.

Those in the citadel remembered the Great Dragon all too well. They watched from the battlements in fearful wonder, and although it wasn’t human meat that he hunted, they quailed at his fury still.

Those in the smaller villages had longer memories. The storytellers sang of the original alliance between dragon and man, and of the true meaning behind the fires of Samhain, when the dragons chased the voices of the dead from the hearts of the living. The children stared at the sky in awe.

Merlin found his way home to Arthur’s side.

&&&

When dawn broke, Kilgharrah landed in the clearing outside Camelot. His sides heaved from exhaustion and his nostrils puffed with smoke; Aithusa was nowhere to be seen.

The knights of Camelot surrounded him warily. At Arthur’s command they kept their swords sheathed and their spears lowered.

Arthur stepped forward, ignoring both the muttered warnings of his men and Merlin’s restraining hand on his arm. “We’ve met here before.”

“We have, King Arthur.”

If the dragon’s erudite tone surprised Arthur, he didn’t show it. “It seems that I did not slay you after all. Why did you return to Camelot?”

“I answered the call.”

“Whose call?”

“The call of my soul’s brother,” Kilgharrah replied, and Merlin’s breath caught. “I think you hear it too, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur’s back stiffened. “Who do you answer to? Is it my sister?”

“You know the answer already,” said Kilgharrah. He settled upon his haunches, making the ground beneath them rumble.

“You speak and act in riddles,” said Arthur. “It was not so long ago that you would have seen me and all my people dead, my kingdom in ruins. Now you have saved us all.”

Kilgharrah sighed. “It was ever the way, until your father saw fit to destroy my kind. I was chained too long below your castle, to the point of madness and murder. The delirium has passed now but I will never be Camelot’s friend again.”

“Yet you were our friend tonight.”

Kilgharrah stretched his head down to Arthur’s level. His warm breath wafted over Arthur and his nostrils flared with curiosity. Then he chuckled, making the knights shift in their unease even as Arthur stood firm. “You were never alone, Arthur Pendragon. I see that my brother has been busying himself with things he does not fully understand.”

“Enough,” said Arthur. “Is my father’s debt settled?”

Kilgharrah’s laughter died. “Some acts cannot be undone.”

“Then what of my debt? What is the price for your service this night?” Arthur’s voice rang low and deep with promise. “How shall I repay you?”

Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes. “A dragon’s nature is not mercenary, no matter what lies your father may have told you.”

“I mean no insult, dragon,” said Arthur. “I speak not of mercenary matters, but of balance.”

“Ah. Then we begin to understand one another.” Kilgharrah’s eyelids slid closed in a sign of faith, but Merlin noticed his nostrils still quivered at Arthur’s scent. “For the health of your land and for your own sake, Arthur Pendragon, you must repeal the ban on magic.”

“And if I do not?”

“It is not a threat, but a caution.” Kilgharrah opened his eyes once more, rose to his full height, and regarded Arthur solemnly. “Think on it, young king, but do not wait too long. Time is shorter than you believe, even for the likes of you.”

“Do you leave this place in peace?” Arthur demanded, his tone urgent.

“In peace, and in hope,” Kilgharrah replied, and they all stood frozen as he took off towards the sunrise.

&&&

“Merlin? Where were you tonight?”

Merlin rested his cheek over Arthur’s heart, listening with gratitude to the soft sound it made as Arthur combed his fingers through Merlin’s hair. Outside the king’s quarters the corridors rang with chatter of the night’s events, but in Arthur’s bed it was quiet, the air heavy.

“I can’t say,” he whispered finally, because he didn’t want to lie.

“Merlin -- do you --?” The heartbeat faltered, then accelerated.

“What is it, Arthur?” Merlin felt confused, scared and in dire need of sleep, and Arthur wanted to talk?

“Do you think, if I do as the dragon says, that you’d be able to say?”

Merlin furrowed his brow. “Say what?”

“Merlin. Listen to me.” Arthur’s hand stilled. He spoke very slowly. “Could you say where you were tonight if I, King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, lifted the ban on magic?”

Fear lanced through Merlin. For a moment he thought he would gag on it.

But he didn’t want to lie.

He sat up and cast his eyes with caution towards Arthur’s, but Arthur’s expression was unreadable. Merlin licked his lips and swallowed the last six years. “I -- could?”

“That -- approximates the correct response, Merlin,” said Arthur, surveying him intently. “Given your various mental afflictions, I suppose it will have to do. Now put your head back down here where it belongs. I’m trying to make some sense of this absurdity you call hair.”

“All right,” said Merlin. He wriggled back down again and snuggled into Arthur’s skin. Arthur’s heart sounded steady beneath his ear. “You should rule as you feel is right, of course. And that dragon lies a lot.”

“So do you, but I trust you anyway.” Arthur swept the broad palm of his hand over Merlin’s head, flattening the curls. “Now tell me more about dragons.”

&&&

By little summer the law was changed. The sky didn’t fall and the people did not revolt. The courtiers didn’t care, the council seemed relieved and Merlin was happy.

The thing inside Arthur quickened.

&&&

He watched the cattle being slaughtered and salted and smoked for winter. Never before in his life had he felt so acutely aware of himself as a slab of raw meat, an animal.

He waited for Merlin to say something about it -- to notice -- but Merlin was a complete idiot, of course.

The knights had been mocking him about the baby for weeks. He wondered what they’d say once they knew it was real.

&&&

“Gaius, do you think it’s possible Arthur’s pregnant?”

Gaius put down his magnifying glass and turned to face Merlin, who was grinding a pile of peppercorns with more than his customary force. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve seen the size of him.” Merlin tried to compose his features, but judging by Gaius’ stunned expression, he’d failed. “Gaius, truly, I swear to you: it’s not fat and it’s not worms. Neither of those things kick.”

“Merlin, you know very well some worms grow to an extraordinary size. Don’t you remember what happened when we examined young Borin, he --”

“Would you forget about the damned worms for one moment!” Merlin flung away his pestle and swept the mortar to the floor. “There is something living and growing inside him, and I’m frightened. I don’t know how it got in there or how we’re supposed to get it out. And I don’t know what I’ll do if he dies.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

Merlin slid to the floor, exhausted now that he’d expressed his fears aloud. “I’m very aware how ridiculous it sounds. It’s not just ridiculous, it’s impossible. Well, how many times has something impossible happened around me? How many, Gaius?”

“Too many, I’ll warrant,” said Gaius, as he eased himself down beside Merlin. Merlin put out an automatic hand to help. “Let’s be reasonable. Look at it from the scientific point of view. Arthur is a man. He simply does not have the anatomical features required to support the development of a foetus.”

“I’ve drawn lightning from the sky. I’ve slowed time itself,” said Merlin. “Do you really think I couldn’t get Arthur with child and keep him that way?”

Gaius paused for thought. “When you put it like that I --”

“-- knocked Arthur up, exactly!” Merlin buried his face in his hands. “What are we going to do? I don’t know how to reverse this. And I told you, it’s moving. I’m not even certain I should reverse it.”

“Now then, don’t cry,” said Gaius.

“M’not crying, it’s just the pepper,” said Merlin, wiping a miserable nose on his sleeve.

“If you say so.” Gaius rolled his eyes and gave Merlin’s shoulder a consoling pat. “You’ve broken my best mortar I see, so I hope you can reverse that.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I just wish you’d believe me.” He gathered up the cracked stone and ran his fingers over it, deep in contemplation. There was something about it that ate at his memory. Something about -- Aithusa?

There was a brisk knock at the door before Arthur marched in, pulled up a stool and laced his hands across his stomach. “Merlin, Gaius. We need to talk.”

&&&

Upon careful, considered and thoroughly invasive examination, Gaius had to conclude that the king was indeed pregnant.

“No, don’t get up yet, sire, I’m not done,” he said, pressing Arthur back down upon the table and preventing his escape. “Merlin, put down that bestiary, I’ve read it many times and there’s nothing in it about the generative qualities of dragonshell, I assure you, beneficial or otherwise. Just make yourself useful and fetch my atlas of anatomy, would you?”

Arthur rather wished Gaius had consulted the atlas before inserting his greased fingers inside Arthur’s rectum.

“Here it is,” said Merlin, holding the book open for Gaius while Gaius scrubbed his hands once more. “Is this the page you were thinking of?”

“Ah, yes,” Gaius said, peering at the page in question. He gestured at a particularly mysterious blob of red surrounded by several dark purple smudges and a nasty black smear. “I can only surmise that the foetus is implanted here in the abdominal cavity. The question is: how is the placenta attached to Arthur? Something is keeping this child alive and no, Merlin, it’s not simply magic. Judging by my internal examination, I suspect the bowel is involved somehow --”

He muttered on in an increasingly terrifying manner as he palpated Arthur’s abdomen while Merlin held the book upright with one hand and took Arthur’s hand in the other, his eyes filled with silent apology and love.

&&&

There was to be no more sex after that, nor training with the knights. Gaius declared it too dangerous.

Arthur didn’t really feel like it anyhow.

&&&

At least he didn’t feel like it for the first few days, but then he got over his sulks and jumped Merlin at the next opportunity.

The knights still teased, but they refused to play rough. Gwaine leered and groped and Percival seemed inclined to protect Arthur from every passing breeze, but as long as Lancelot stood about billing and cooing with Gwen, he copped more mockery than Arthur.

The council took the news of the royal pregnancy with surprising calm. Most of them had lived a great many years and had seen stranger things than their pregnant king. The problem of the succession was solved, no matter how unusually, and if it kept Arthur’s mad sister and her undead army away from Camelot’s throne, so much the better.

Still, Arthur desired no question mark over his child’s legitimacy, even if he wasn’t yet entirely convinced of the child’s humanity. Geoffrey scoured records dating back hundreds of years and was bemused to report to the council members that he could find no legal impediment to a marriage between two men.

Arthur turned to Merlin, who stood at his left shoulder in an almost respectable padded tunic of royal red; he nearly did Arthur credit. “Well?”

Merlin frowned. “Well what?”

Arthur folded his arms and gave Merlin a dangerous smile. “Were you not paying attention, Merlin? I’m waiting.”

“Waiting for what, sire?”

Arthur’s brow arched. “Get down on your knees, Merlin, and ask nicely. I might not give you a second chance.”

“Oh!” Merlin looked about the council chamber to find all eyes fixed squarely, and rather sternly, on him. He bit his lip and gulped, then lowered himself to the floor before Arthur. It was not an unfamiliar position for him -- indeed he had been there not an hour before while Arthur fed his cock down Merlin’s throat -- but he was not accustomed to the focused disapproval of quite so many greybeards (and Sir Leon) who held his future happiness in their power.

“Er, will you grant me the honour of your hand in marriage, Arthur? Please?” He proffered his hand, shaking just a little, and Arthur lay his own damp palm upon Merlin’s.

“You have my hand, Merlin, and my heart,” Arthur replied. He took his mother’s ring from his finger and slid it onto Merlin’s. “I beg that you will keep both safe.”

“I will endeavour to do so always, my lord.”

“And I will extend the same courtesy to you, Merlin, with all the strength I have within me.”

They shared a foolish grin and there was a suspicious sheen of moisture in Leon’s eyes, but Geoffrey still looked perplexed. “This is not the match I should have chosen for you, sire,” he tutted. “Are you quite sure you don’t wish to reconsider a marital alliance with Queen Annis? And the Princess Elena is yet unwed --”

“Geoffrey, if you say one more word against my betrothed I will have you beheaded.”

“Indeed, sire,” said Geoffrey, before hiding behind the nearest scroll.

&&&

At the handfasting ceremony Geoffrey still had the balls to look hopeful when he asked, “Do any here say nay?”

&&&

“I wish we’d waited a bit longer,” said Merlin wistfully. The dining hall was filled with guests staring at their increasing king with blatant disregard for Arthur’s dignity -- and not one of the faces was the one Merlin most wanted to see. “My mother’ll kill me when she finds out she missed the wedding.”

“Merlin, I’d kill you if the crown princess or prince of Camelot were born out of wedlock,” said Arthur, gnawing with grim determination upon a roast turtledove.

“You’ve got a few more months yet, you know,” said Merlin, regarding Arthur with some doubt. Perhaps Arthur was under the misapprehension that delivery was imminent; he did seem understandably shocky each time Gaius mentioned surgery. “It’s not even Yuletide.”

“A few months?” Arthur dropped his dove and stared at Merlin, his face aghast. “I’m the size of a troll! Define ‘few’.”

“It takes a good nine months to grow a baby, even for you, Arthur, and I know very well you can count,” said Merlin. “This child was conceived at Midsummer --”

“No thanks to you pigging yourself on dragon droppings or some such rubbish,” Arthur grumbled.

“-- which means you’ve got until March to wait this out.”

The musicians chose that propitious moment to break into a jaunty and rather high-pitched tune, and the floor began to fill with revellers. Arthur sighed and wiped his hands, then held them out to Merlin. “In that case, husband, we might as well dance.”

&&&

Later, Merlin spooned up behind Arthur in their bed and stroked his palm over Arthur’s swollen belly. “I wonder, would you have ever made an honest man of me if not for this?”

“Would you have found your way into my bed at all if not for your infernal dragon magic?” Arthur countered. “You can be a bit slow.”

“I think I would have!” He nuzzled at the tender hollow behind Arthur’s ear, the spot that made Arthur tremble. “You are irresistible, after all.”

“So irresistible, in fact, that it took six years of living in one another’s pockets and a Midsummer overdose before you made your move,” said Arthur. He caught Merlin’s wandering fingers and pressed them to his lips. “You are an honest man, even if you do tell blatant fibs, and I would not have another.”

&&&

Hunith did come before the winter snows set in, and they both hugged her hard. She settled into Merlin's old room and before long her herbal preparations rivaled Gaius'; Merlin was never so glad of her midwifery skills.

Arthur was exhausted, bored and increasingly impatient with his growing clumsiness. He scared Merlin almost to death making his unsteady tours about the castle and lower town, and there was a dreadful near miss on the icy courtyard steps that forced Merlin to levitate the king before his awed subjects.

Arthur told him never to make him airborne again -- it was worse than the morning sickness -- and informed Hunith that she had raised an unruly son.

“I’m sure you’ll do much better,” she said, with a pointed but forgiving smile.

Arthur looked queasy at the prospect. Merlin was conscious of a depression on Arthur’s spirits as the time of delivery drew closer. Arthur listened and nodded when Gaius expressed his confidence about the surgery -- Gaius was training both Hunith and Gwen in the ways of cautery and suture should Merlin's magic falter -- but as Merlin watched Arthur meet with his people, pore over legal documents, drill the knights without mercy and hold Merlin with desperation every night, he came to realise that Arthur was preparing to die.

“I won’t let that happen,” said Merlin fiercely. He treated Arthur’s nipples each morning with linen soaked in salted water and drew the brown buds out with his lips. Arthur’s breasts were ripening as they readied to suckle their child, and he accepted Merlin’s care with a meekness that suited him ill. “Arthur, I swear to you, now and always: your mother’s story is not your own.”

&&&

Half the inhabitants of Camelot came down with a cold that winter, keeping both Gaius and Hunith on their toes, and despite Merlin's zealous attentions Arthur's chest grew hot with pain.

"I wish you'd stop running yourself into the ground," said Merlin. He stoked the fire while Arthur crawled into bed. "You wouldn't treat the least of your knights this way. Why are you so hard on yourself?"

"In case it's slipped your mind, I'm still the king," said Arthur, flopping back against the pillows. "I have a great deal to do, and I will not be stopped by this obstruction."

"This protuberance," Merlin interjected agreeably.

"This bloody monstrosity!" Well might Merlin look cheerful; he didn't have to lug the damn thing wherever he went. Arthur had sent the rudest of the courtiers home to their own estates for the winter, but that didn't mean the rest of the castle wasn't thinking what the courtiers weren't afraid to say: the king was an unsightly aberration. And now he had sore teats like an ill-used milch cow.

They'd all be sorry when he was dead, Arthur thought bitterly.

Merlin pressed the back of his hand to Arthur's brow. "Well, until you stop feeling so tired and achy, you're not leaving this bed. You need all the rest you can get, and I don't want you getting sick."

"Merlin, I've been 'achy' for the last eight months and I will remind you: it's all your fault!"

"Magic is evil, yes, I know." Merlin lifted Arthur's shirt, and despite Arthur's vile mood he couldn't help but sigh at the brush of cool air on his skin. He might abhor the uncontrollable changes to his body, but there was something about Merlin's matter-of-fact care that eased Arthur's gnawing revulsion.

"What's that?" he asked, as Merlin placed a warm poultice against his breast.

"Comfrey and calendula," Merlin answered. He sank into the pillows beside Arthur and ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. "How does it feel?"

"It feels hot," Arthur grumbled. "I'm already feverish. Why are you making it worse?"

"This'll draw out the infection." Merlin sounded weary.

Abruptly, Arthur felt remorseful. He knew very well that Merlin was having more than a few nightmares of his own. He turned his head into the crook of Merlin's elbow, nestling in spite of himself; he tried not to let Merlin's poultice slide off. "It's just a bit weird."

"Could be worse," said Merlin. His eyelashes ruffled sleepily against Arthur's cheek. "I'm trying cabbage leaves next."

&&&

Gwen forged delicate surgical instruments to Gaius’ design, Hunith prepared clean needles and thread -- she had a neat stitch and far steadier hands than Merlin’s were ever likely to be -- and Merlin honed his healing spells.

Arthur preferred to remain in his own bed for the final ordeal, but Gaius gainsaid him; confident though he might feel about Arthur’s prospects of survival -- Merlin’s powers were staggering even should his own fail -- Gaius wanted all his medical provisions and books at hand.

He prepared an anaesthetic potion of mandrake and almond oil to allow Arthur to sleep through the operation. Arthur rallied his spirits sufficient to tease the old physician about his doping ways, but for all Merlin’s assurances Arthur’s heart felt leaden. This was one sleep from which he would likely not wake: caesareans were the last recourse of the dying and the dead.

Merlin interrupted these gloomy forebodings by shaving Arthur’s belly, dousing him with apple cider vinegar and passing him the piss pot.

Lancelot and Percival stood ready to hold Arthur still should his body fight off the anaesthetic. The others, even Gwaine, cried off, saying they’d wait in the corridor until it was over. “City boys,” Percival scoffed, flexing his arms, but Lancelot smiled sickly at Gwen, who looked rather peaky herself. Perhaps she was increasing too.

Even Geoffrey was present to record the birth (and guard against changelings) in stern if reluctant fulfillment of his duties as senior member of the royal council. Gaius raised his brow and set him to boiling water, then took up a sharp, shining blade.

“Just look at me,” said Merlin, stroking Arthur’s brow as the potion took its effect. The chamber was radiant with Merlin’s conjured light, and he was the loveliest thing Arthur had ever seen.

&&&

“He looks like a toad,” Arthur said some hours later as he stared in consternation at the creature in Merlin’s arms.

“He’s beautiful,” said Hunith in mild protest, but Merlin gave Arthur a wide-eyed nod and mouthed definitely amphibian. “How do those stitches feel, Arthur dear?”

“Splendid, thank you,” Arthur replied, mouthing hurts like buggery at Merlin. Gaius had made a lower midline incision more gruesome than any wound Arthur had ever taken on the battlefield; right now it was packed with a yarrow poultice and wrapped in soft linen, but he’d have a fine scar to show for himself once he was back on his feet. “Can’t feel a thing.”

Merlin grinned and palmed off the creature on his mother, then poured Arthur a cup of warm caudle. “Gaius is brewing up some willow bark tea, but this’ll do for now. It should cut the taste of the mandrake.“

“Mm, needs more honey,” Arthur complained for form’s sake, but the caudle was like ambrosia to a parched and disembowelled man.

“Honey’s bad for the baby,” Hunith sang out.

Merlin popped a sticky spoonful into Arthur’s mouth anyhow. Arthur knew he kept Merlin for a reason.

&&&

Once Hunith finished swaddling the child to her satisfaction she lay him in his cot, kissed all three of them, shooed Gaius from his own quarters and left them in peace.

“It’s too quiet,” said Arthur. Not that he was objecting, but it wasn’t what he expected. He hadn’t really expected anything at all. “Should I be feeding him?”

“He hasn’t asked yet,” said Merlin. He gave a shrug of almost criminal unconcern. “Do you want to give it a go?”

“Might as well,” said Arthur, attempting to match Merlin’s bravado. No insolent former manservant was going to out-do Arthur, even in matters of domesticity. “Fish him out of there and let’s get him latched on. We can't let him go hungry.”

“If he starts crying, it’s your fault,” said Merlin. He scooped the baby up with all the casual ease of one raised by a country midwife and brought him over to Arthur’s side.

“He really does look very odd,” Arthur said. The baby’s wrinkled floridness seemed exacerbated by the swaddling, and his wandering gaze did not inspire confidence.

“Hey, you’re seeing him when he’s cleaned up.” Merlin tucked a gentle knuckle to the child’s powdery cheek. “He hasn’t passed all his meconium yet, so you’ve that sight to look forward to.”

Arthur didn’t bother asking for more information. He probably didn’t want to know. Merlin lay the child down and rolled Arthur very carefully onto his side -- Arthur refrained nobly from shouting in agony -- then propped a bolster at his back. Arthur eyed the bundle before him in trepidation and wrapped a cautious arm beneath it, drawing it closer. He addressed his son for the first time: “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

His son did not fail him; he rooted at Arthur’s breast like a piglet, and with a queer pang Arthur’s milk soon let down and flowed free.

“So what do you think we should call him?” Merlin asked as he watched in complete absorption. “And don’t say ‘Toad’, because you’ll make my mother sad.”

“Let’s call him Killian,” said Arthur.

“You don’t think it’s premature?” Merlin stroked his fingertips across the baby’s head. “He hasn’t really got any hair yet. It might turn out as dark as mine.”

“I don’t care,” said Arthur, his decision made. “Killian sounds right to me.”

“To me too,” Merlin agreed. “Everything is just right.”

&&&

They returned Killian to his cot eventually and nestled down to some sleep of their own, and then a small white dragon with golden bright eyes fluttered down from the rafters to curl about his newborn brother.