Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! The Sorcerer's Apprentice and all its characters belong to Disney.

Rated: T (Teen): Mild Adult Language.

Prompt: #7 Love (Alternate Universe).

Trigger Warnings: None.

Morgana Le Fay had heard childbirth was the closest a woman could come to death without actually leaving the world, but she'd never truly believed...until now.

Every contraction felt as if the child in her womb was trying to rip its way out of her. She fought to keep her composure, but eventually said to hell with pride, and screamed so long and loud surely all of Britain had to have heard her. Her lover certainly did.

Morgana heard Horvath's heavy footfalls before she saw him. He barreled into her private bedchambers, snapped at the mid-wife's younger apprentice when the girl dared to block his way. Did they really think Maxim Horvath cared that men weren't allowed near the birthing bed? He didn't give a wit about decorum.

Part of her wanted to snarl at him to get out. He'd done this to her after all, though...in all honesty, it wasn't entirely his fault. She'd permitted him to spill his seed within her then she had forgotten to take the damn tansy oil with her tea.

Morgana let her guard down and whimpered. "Maxim...it hurts, so badly..." He was by her side in a blink, gripping her hand in his, kissing her knuckle. "I'm so very sorry, my lady. Had I known..."

He wouldn't have lain with her. Morgana shifted on the bed to get closer to him. "No, Horvath. This is as much my doing as yours. I'd have said and done anything to ensure you shared my bed."

It was true. Morgana had spent years attempting to coax him away from that self-righteous fool Merlin. She'd planned to use him. Her stratagem had been a simple one: she'd seek out and seduce the apprentice, then manipulate him into helping her annihilate his master.

Morgana hadn't expected to care for Horvath, but in the end, her heart had betrayed her, and she'd fallen in love with the surly grump. She'd gone out of her way to keep the feelings hidden, but she had been finding it so much more difficult to do so lately, especially given her current condition. He'd always been attentive-a rare trait-one all her previous lovers seemed to lack. Much like them she had lived by the notion that it was better to take than to give. With Maxim, however, that wasn't the case. He had never left her dissatisfied in or outside the bedchamber.

Each time they coupled, he always went out of his way to ensure she found release. If she was hungry he would bring her meals. Sometimes when she'd get restless, he'd read to her. Horvath was an avid reader. He would recite poetry and even sing for her if she asked. Morgana didn't know what it was, but there was something in Horvath's voice. Hearing it calmed her nerves. He'd even lulled her to sleep on the rare occasion when dreams eluded her.

"I see the head!" the mid-wife declared, "Push, my lady! Push harder or the babe will die!"

"I am pushing, you sow!"

Morgana wasn't sure if it was the mid-wife's snippy tone or the notion of losing the child that stoked her ire. She tried to sit up, but her arms didn't quite have the strength. She felt weak and what strength she did have on reserve was going toward pushing every time her muscles clenched.

Thank heaven for Horvath. He moved up onto the bed and carefully lifted her so that she was in a far better position to bear down. His efforts helped, though did very little to ease the pain.

When the mid-wife told her she needed to push harder, Morgana considered giving the old woman a swift kick to the face. She was already lightheaded from the blood loss. She could barely think let alone breathe properly!

There is no harder! What doesn't the decrepit wench understand?

Minutes felt more like hours as Morgana struggled to stay conscious. Horvath did what little he could by dabbing at her clammy forehead with a warm damp cloth while she practically crushed his hand, whispering into her ear from time to time, holding on tight to her as she fought to expell the babe from her exhausted body.

Finally, after what'd felt like an eternity, the child slipped out from between her thighs and into the world.

"It's a boy!"

Morgana collapsed back into Horvath's arms and he eased her down onto the pillows. It took her a while to catch her breath as she was so focused on the silence.

Her heartbeat faltered for a moment. What's happening? Something was wrong. Why can't I hear anything? "Why isn't he crying?! Maxim?!"

Morgana tried to sit up only to have him gently push her back down. Then she heard it: the high-pitched cry of a newborn. Morgana blinked back tears. Oh, thank Gods!

If expressions could kill, the old mid-wife would've been convulsing on the floor in a pool of her own blood with the way Morgana regarded her. "I want my son. Now."

The mid-wife's apprentices managed to clean the baby and were in the process of wrapping him in a blanket when Horvath took the lad away from those chittering hens and ordered everyone out-mid-wife included. The moment they'd all gone, he carefully handed Morgana the babe. She was so weak and tired, however, he had to help her cradle the child.

The babe wiggled a little at first, no doubt trying to get comfortable. Morgana was captivated. How could this beautiful creature, a living person so pure, have come from her?

He must take after his father, she surmised.

There were some who would question his parentage and a few who already had. Mainly Balthazar Blake and Urien of Rheged. They had convinced themselves and many others that Morgana had lied about Horvath being the father.

Let them say and believe what they will. I know the truth.

Morgana rested her head on Horvath's shoulder while he stroked her hair, pretending not to notice the warm flow of his healing magic pouring through her. Magic wasn't a cure all by any means, but if her lover wanted to use it to ensure she wouldn't die of a fever, an infection, or blood loss, who was she to argue? Countless women had died in the birthing bed, but she refused to be one of them.

"Why is his hair blonde?"

The question caught her off guard. "What?" Morgana sat up, pulling the blanket back just enough to see the white blonde tips peppering their son's ink black hair. "I don't know." She saw the sudden flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Maxim, please, look at me. You are the father of this child. I've lain with no one else. I swear by all the Gods in heaven. If you doubt my word, then look...look deep into the boy's eyes. They're yours, my love."

My love. The words came so easily to her now. Why was that? They had stuck in her throat for months. Perhaps because she actually meant them. She'd certainly never said such things to anybody aloud. Horvath seemed just as stunned by her choice of words as she was. Morgana looked straight into his eyes. "I love you, Maxim. Mayhaps, if...if I'd said it sooner...you'd have no need to question my honor. I...understand if you'd rather return to Merlin. I...I'll care for the child." She could not hold his gaze any longer for fear he'd notice the tears shimmering within her own, so she focused on their child instead.

Horvath gently cupped her cheek and turned her head. His lips were on hers before she could speak.

The familiar taste of his kiss-the mild but sweet blend of mint and pastries-rendered Morgana utterly speechless. She let go of the pain, anger and bitterness she'd felt for so many years. Gone. All of it. The unquenchable thirst for revenge that threatened to consume what remained of her once shattered heart ceased to exist. In it's place, something Morgana swore she'd never feel again after losing her parents: love.

The baby in her arms was either getting fussy due to hunger or because he was upset that their attentions were elsewhere and not on him. Much to her surprise, Morgana felt her maternal instinct-a trait she'd never thought to exhibit-awaken.

She ended the kiss and gave Horvath an apologetic smile. "I believe our son is hungry."

Horvath smiled lovingly at her. "I don't need to see the boy's eyes, my love. I know he's mine."

"As am I..." she whispered, "If you'll still have me...?"

Horvath cupped her cheek and gently caressed it with his thumb. "Of course."

Morgana winced when the babe latched onto her teet. "That's...going to take some getting used to." Her words and facial expression made Horvath chuckle. "It is NOT funny, Maxim!"

"Then why are you smiling?"

Morgana pursed her lips in an attempt to hide her grin, but failed miserably, which only made him laugh again. Morgana loved his laughter. She rarely ever heard it, but hopefully that would change once she'd made peace with Merlin and her half-brother Arthur. "Our child is in need of a name, my love."

Horvath's caramel brown eyes widened. "You...want me to name him?"

Morgana smirked. "I do. You are the boy's father-and will be my husband-once I locate a priest to marry us. It's only right and fair that you name him, Maxim."

Horvath seemed hesitant. "I suppose you're right, but..."

"What ails you, my darling?"

"What if I ruin it by giving him the wrong name?"

Now it was Morgana's turn to chuckle. "Maxim, you cannot ruin a child simply by giving him a certain name. Besides, I've the utmost faith in your judgement. Whatever name you choose shall be one that our son will bear with great pride." Those words seemed to give him the incentive he needed.

Horvath stared at their son. "He's a strong and fierce lad with a healthy appetite."

Morgana smiled. "He is."

"His hair is a unique feature. He deserves a distinct name to go with it."

Morgana nodded. "He does."

They sat there for a while. Their baby had fallen fast asleep by the time Maxim made his decision. "Drake."

Morgana perked up. Drake means dragon. She glanced down at the boy. His oddly colored hair poked up and out in every direction. In a way it did resemble flame. Morgana recited the name and liked how it rolled off her tongue.

"You've chosen a fine name, Maxim. Drake of Tintagel. It suits him, don't you think?"

Horvath smiled. "It does."

Morgana saw his happiness dim. "What troubles you?"

Horvath sighed. "I'm not of noble birth, Lady Morgana. Nor am I of the gentry. I've no power or wealth. I don't even have any money for a dowry. Your brother wants you to marry a king or lord. He'll be furious you've wed below your station. I'm the lowborn son of a farmer."

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "You think I care whose son you are? Arthur, Merlin-and everyone else-can go bugger themselves. There's more to life than wealth and power, and no one decides whom I marry save me. I want you, Maxim Horvath. You're the man I love, the father of my child, my confidant and my right hand. Horvath, I can't name any other man better suited to be my husband."

Morgana hated the fact that Horvath thought so little of himself. He was a powerful sorcerer, weaponry expert, trained hunter-tracker and skilled strategist. Plus she'd always thought him rather handsome. Horvath wasn't what most would consider desirable. He was actually quite tall and burly with a circle beard and long hair. Ill-tempered at times, yes, but still refined and quite debonair. He'd never ever raised a hand to her. Even during battle he'd tried to avoid facing her choosing instead to battle her male followers, not because he didn't think her a worthy opponent, but the female sorcerers were quite rare and Maxim was always a gentleman. He didn't take pleasure in hurting other people and he absolutely despised men who raised their hands to women or children.

"Once my body recovers," Morgana murmured, "I'd very much like to have a second child. I've denied myself the right to enjoy motherhood for far too."

Maxim watched her cuddle their sleeping son. "I want a large family too. Many sons and daughters. As long as it doesn't threaten your safety or well-being. You mean the world to me, Morgana. Your happiness and health along with that of our son are my main concern."

Morgana nuzzled his chest. "I love you, Maxim."

So many people had trouble saying the words aloud. Not Morgana. Not anymore. She, The Mighty Morgana Le Fay, was in love and intended to inform the world as well as everyone in it.

Maxim hadn't just put a baby in her womb to preserve her legacy. He'd also soothed her aching soul and mended her broken heart. So long as she had Maxim by her side, and Drake in her arms, Morgana would be content. However, may heaven and all its Gods have mercy on any fool who dared try to take them away from her.

She shifted Drake in her arms and reached up to caress Horvath's cheek. "You're mine, Maximus Amadeus Horvath."

Maxim leaned into her touch and turned his head to press a soft kiss to her palm. "I am. Always. Just as you are mine, Morgana Iseult Le Fay."

Morgana gave a little squeak of surprise whenever Drake, who'd apparently woken up for a quick snack, latched on to her breast and once again began to suckle her nipple.

"That is definitely going to take some getting used to."