A/N: This belongs in my Albion AU series, but it doesn't feel chapter-ish, so I'm letting it stand alone.

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Albion AU: Merlin's Child

Arthur and Merlin waited outside the room listening to Guinevere's cries of pain and the soothing voices of the midwives. They'd been here before. Three times before. Prince Amhar and the princesses Edmeé and Everild were waiting in the nursery to hear the news of whether or not the number of boys would catch up to the number of girls in the family. Arthur's apprehension was as intense as it had been the first time. Listening to his wife crying out did not sit well with the king. It was tearing him apart inside. Merlin's eyes scanned his friend's agonized face with mingled concern and sympathy, tinged with amusement. He decided to try to lighten the moment with banter.

"Arthur, you know how you and your Knights are so into pain? You should grant her knighthood for going through all this for you."

"She's already earned the much greater title of motherhood, idiot," ground out the king. Suddenly the sounds in the birthing room changed from mingled crying, reassurance, pained shouts, and coaxing to silence, then panic. Terror flooded their hearts when Gwen began screaming.

"No. Nooo! Arthur! Merlin!" The king and the warlock burst into the room. "Help him! Help him Merlin! Make him alright! Save him!" Merlin moved quickly to the shocked midwife who stared down at the still, blue baby in her arms. "He's not breathing! Help him!"

Merlin carefully took the child in his hands, and turned him onto his stomach. He massaged the baby's back a moment before closing his eyes and allowing a golden glow to envelop his hand and the baby's small, wet body. After a few minutes the child convulsed and expelled a large glob of sticky mucus from his throat. He dragged in a ragged little breath and attempted to fill his tiny lungs. He did not however begin to cry. Whimpers were all the child would produce. The midwives looked on in grief. Arthur stroked Guinevere's hair and they both tried to contain their anxiety for their baby, trusting their friend to save their child. Merlin continued to massage the baby and murmur softly, his words alternating between words of comfort and words of magic. Finally Merlin wrapped the warm little body in a soft blanket and handed him to his tearful parents.

"Is he alright?"

"Only time will tell, but I've done all I can. He is alive. Try to get some nourishment in him. I'll stay with him tonight."

Merlin stayed that night and many, many nights afterwards with the tiny child who became known to the Court and Kingdom as Prince Cynefrith.

After a few months, Cynefrith's frailty diminished and for a while it appeared that all would be well with the little dark haired boy. He was a peaceful baby who rarely cried and most evenings lay contentedly in Merlin's arms, sucking his thumb with his ear pressed against Merlin's chest listening to the warlock's voice resonating deeply as bedtime stories were told or read. He learned to walk and talk later than the other children, but many were convinced it was because he was babied by his siblings who took it upon themselves to carry him about and communicate his wants and needs for him as older siblings are wont to do. Merlin and his parents, however, kept a close eye on his development and as the years passed it became painfully clear that Cynefrith's traumatic birth had rendered him simple. His wide-eyed trust in everyone endeared him to all and his innocence and purity never failed. Merlin loved all his nephews and nieces, but as time went by, Cynefrith's sweet, uncomplicated company became most treasured.

With the tacit understanding, trust and permission of the King and Queen, Merlin and Cynefrith would randomly disappear during the day sometimes while his brother and sisters slaved away at their lessons with their tutors. After dinner and before bed Cynefrith told tales of talking to frogs, petting unicorns, or picnicking with Druids and meadows of flowers flying about like butterflies. Cynefrith's love for all the world was uncomplicated and deep. He wandered happily through the gardens and orchards with his mother. His father sometimes held him on his lap while holding audience with his people. Cynefrith smiled at the people and hearts were softened. As he grew older, he spent more and more time with Da (as he called the Court Warlock) as his brother and sisters grew in maturity and began to shoulder responsibilities that would never be his to bear.

One morning, squeals of joy burst from the children when the king announced at breakfast that the horsemaster had secured three fine ponies for them to resume riding lessons for the summer.

"Me too, Daddy?" asked Cynefrith. Arthur paused and looked with a degree of pity at his youngest son.

Guinevere stepped in. "No Cynefrith. It's not time for you to learn to ride yet. You must wait a little longer."

Cynefrith looked up at Arthur and Gwen with teary eyes. "Want to ride!"

Merlin squatted down beside the little prince and wrapped his long arms around him. The warlock looked up at the king and queen with eyebrows raised questioningly. The usual unspoken question, "May I take him?" was answered by gentle smiles and nods. "Come with me," he whispered into the prince's ear. Small arms wrapped around his neck, a tear streaked face tucked under his chin and they left.

Later at the dinner table, as Merlin and the parents listened to their children talk excitedly about the riding lessons that day, Cynefrith piped up, "Riding on the brown horse is bumpy. I like riding 'Thusa better." The children turned shocked faces to Cynefrith. The adults turned shocked faces to Merlin, who merely smirked mildly.

"Cynefrith, only Uncle Merlin can ride the dragon! Aithusa is fierce! He wouldn't let anyone but Uncle Merlin ride him! He's not a horse!" Prince Amhar proclaimed knowledgeably.

"Father rode on Aithusa once!" trilled the youngest princess.

"Yeah, but that was a 'mergency! Right Father?" Amhar shot back and looked at his father for confirmation. Arthur nodded solemnly.

Cynefrith smiled at his sticky fingers and looked up at his mother with gentle eyes. "'Thusa smiled at me. He's nice and warm. He took Da and me up to touch the clouds. Clouds are wet." He wiggled and slid down from his seat beside Merlin, picked up a toy horse and began singing quietly to himself as he made it gallop about on the floor, "Horses feel soft but they ride bumpy. Dragons feel bumpy but they ride soft. 'Thusa is white. 'Thusa is pretty. 'Thusa is rainbowy in the sun." Merlin's eyes softened at the song.

"I don't want to ride a dragon anyway. I want to ride a unicorn," Edmeé said dreamily.

Amhar scoffed, "You don't ride unicorns! They aren't for riding or working. And guess what? If you hurt a unicorn really, really bad things happen."

"Father says unicorns are very special magical creatures. They are so pure they can heal your heart," said Everild seriously.

"Da says I am his unicorn," said the little voice from the floor.

"That's silly Cynefrith! You aren't a magical creature!"

Gwen hushed the children before the conversation became an argument and said, "Cynefrith has his own sort of magic. And so do each of you."

The little prince suddenly dashed away with a squeal, distracted by dust motes dancing in the sunlit air streaming through the window. He whispered delightedly to himself, "Little dragons!"

Months later, a group of nine to twelve year old boys, sons of visiting nobles, raced through the castle led by Prince Amhar. "Come on! I'll show you the armory!" Excitement was high. The city was teeming with knights and people who had come for tomorrow's tournament. They came to an abrupt halt as they skidded around a corner and one of them knocked into Prince Cynefrith who landed squarely on the seat of his pants with a look of surprise. As he looked up and spotted his brother, a wide smile spread across his features and his eyes brightened. "Amhar!"

"Look out, you!" exclaimed the boy who had knocked Cynefrith down, and aimed a kick at his legs. "Get out of our way! We are knights on a mission!"

"A mission? Can I come too?"

"No we are going to go on a hunt. No babies allowed."

"Amhar can I come?" questioned the little prince as he struggled to his feet.

Amhar was torn but felt a creeping sense of embarrassment at his babyish brother. "No, Cynefrith. Go play with Edmeé and Everild."

"They said I can't play because it's only for princesses. I'm a Prince."

"You're a Prince? Wait,.." The boy turned to Amhar. "This is your brother?! What's wrong with him?"

One of the boys laughed unpleasantly.

"Hey! I heard about him. He's the dumb one. You're dumb, aren't you!" jeered another.

"What's dumb?"

"What's dumb?" one of the boys echoed mockingly.

"Go away baby! We Knights are going on a hunt for magical creatures!"

"Oh. I'm a unicorn."

"Cynefrith! Just go play in the garden!" Amhar hissed in embarrassment.

"Okay. You want to come too?"

"No! Just-just go away!" Amhar turned away.

"He's a unicorn?" The boys began to circle him. "Hey, guess what Dummy, we're hunting unicorns!"

"Get him!" A boy lunged forward to shove Cynefrith to the ground again when everyone froze...literally. The temperature in the corridor went absolutely frosty. A voice deep with anger spoke.

"You should know that really, really bad things happen to those who harm unicorns. And this is no way for Knights to behave."

The band of boys suddenly unfroze, cried out in surprised yelps and ran hollering through the corridors tearing desperately at their breeches.

Cynefrith felt a presence directly behind him, tilted his head back and looked straight up at Merlin. "Hi!"

Merlin looked straight down into the sweet little upside down face. "Hello."

Cynefrith turned around and slipped his hand into Merlin's. "Da, what's dumb mean?"

"It means someone who cannot speak," Merlin replied through gritted teeth.

"But I can speak," stated the confused little boy.

"Yes."

"So I'm not dumb?"

"No."

"Maybe we should tell those Knights what dumb means. I don't think they know."

"Yes. Maybe we can tell them later. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Your ears are red. I'm going to play in the garden. Do you want to come?" At that moment the angry call of "MERLIN!" rang through the castle. "Uh oh. Daddy wants you Da."

"Yes. Have fun in the gardens and I'll go see what your father wants, ok?"

"Ok! Bye!" The young prince hopped away down the corridor.

Merlin took his time answering the king's summons, trying to calm himself before he reached the audience chambers. Upon entering, he found a fuming king, angry mothers and sniffling boys. Guinevere was just helping an irate mother finish snipping off the last remnants of a boy's undergarments with her sewing shears and tugging his pants back up.

"Merlin, you'd better have a very good explanation for this," snarled the king.

"Oh yes," Merlin snarled back.

The king actually leaned back a bit when he saw the fury burning upon his friend's normally cheerful face. He continued in a less aggressive tone, "Then tell me, please, why did these young men suddenly have underclothes that were about ten sizes too small?"

"Well Sire, I'd say they were just too big for their britches."

Arthur's eyebrows flew up and he had a sudden need to suppress a grin. Even in the most trying circumstances Merlin's sense of humor still played some sort of role.

Merlin continued in an icy tone, "These little...Knights...were hunting and harming unicorns, Sire. Mine in particular."

Arthur and Guinevere blanched. Gwen's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, "Is Cynefrith alright?"

"Yes, he's in the garden hoping to find someone to play with. Sire, these children must be taught their responsibilities in regards to others. They aspire to be Knights of the realm? Well now would be an excellent time to begin their education." He turned to face the boys. "Lesson number one boys: Don't. Be. A prat. Every person's life is as valuable as your own. To treat others who are different from you with anything less than respect is wrong and unworthy of a nobleman." The boys couldn't seem to bring themselves to look up. Merlin looked at Amhar with an incredibly sad expression. "I'm truly disappointed in you Amhar. I thought you would care more for your brother than to betray him like that."

Amhar ducked his head in shame and began to cry silently. At that moment a small voice from the doorway said, "Amhar? There is a frog in the garden. It has spots. Do you want to play now?" and Cynefrith sidled into the room looking around for his big brother. His eyes flew wide when he spotted the quietly sobbing Amhar and ran to him, throwing his arms around him in alarm. "Oh no, oh no!"

Amhar wrapped his arms around his little brother and choked out, "I'm so sorry Cynefrith!" and began crying harder. Cynefrith began crying loudly in distress too.

Arthur stepped forward and pulled both of his boys into his arms. "Shhh, shhh, Cynefrith, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Yyyes! I hurting! Amhar is sad! Amhar is hurting," he wailed.

"Amhar is fine. He is just learning a painful lesson. Hush now. You run along back to the gardens and find that frog again, okay? Amhar will come play later."

Cynefrith snuffled, "Okay. Can his Knights come too?"

"That will be up to them. But first they have to learn the Knight's code before they go."

"Okay." He quieted his sniffles and looked around at the silent boys. "Hey, guess what guys! I found out something. Dumb means someone who can't speak, but I can speak so I'm not dumb. It's okay, don't worry! Now you won't do the mistake again! You wanna come see a frog after your knight lesson?"

Merlin stepped forward and took him by the hand. "Show me that frog. Are you sure it has spots?"

"Yes!" The little boy practically dragged the warlock from the room.

As the years wore on, many in the kingdom referred to the sweet natured Prince as Merlin's Child ...never in the presence of the boy's parents of course. But, being the intelligent people they were, his parents knew it and were simultaneously pained and comforted. Arthur and Guinevere knew that long after they were gone Merlin would have Cynefrith to heal his heart and comfort his loneliness and Cynefrith would be genuinely loved, protected and cared for as long as he lived, by the fiercest, greatest and tenderest heart in the world.

Destiny had given Merlin a child.