Sympathetique

by Poohunne

Merlin's hands flew to his midsection as pain gripped him once more, doubling him over. The hot stabbing agony plunged through him, front to back. He groaned woefully as he felt his insides revolt, his magic flooding the abdominal section, instinctively responding to the twisting in his gut. A wave of nausea swept through him, inciting the magic to solidify, making it into something akin to flaming stone. The petrified lump pushed against his raw belly, the heat of it searing his mid-section from the inside out. There was little for him to do but wait it out and push through it, to bear the hurt and discomfort until the end came – and it WOULD come. He knew that.

He moaned, gritting his teeth against the increasingly burning pressure that seemed to pulse through his body. Suddenly, it ebbed away; a fleeting peace filled Merlin. Resting for a moment and enjoying the onslaught of adrenaline, he relaxed, only to have the intensive torment crash back just moments later. Merlin barely had time to breathe, let alone whimper, as the pain returned, the white-hot rock melting as lava, spreading liquid tendrils out across his stomach, twining up into the muscles of his chest, down the sinews of both legs, and spindling out his fingers in flashes of heat and flame that singed those things closest to him. It was more than Merlin could hold in, the pains increasing in strength and duration and reducing in respite with each successive attack. His voice escaped in a rush as if he could excise the demonic torture with a scream.

Merlin struggled to purchase air, his lungs pumping furiously as the pain seemed to flee his body with his yells. He lay back, sweat pouring from his forehead, hair drenched to its roots and his clothing stuck to his body. He knew it would not be long before -

Arthur watched as his friend clutched his stomach and doubled up once more. There was nothing he could do to help. Nothing he knew that would lessen either of their suffering. He dared not touch Merlin again, not after that last attempt to comfort him. The King looked down at his singed tunic and bandaged hand. He sighed and turned to Gaius, his eyes weary and his heart heavy.

"There's truly nothing you can do for this," the royal asked the court physician, who only shook his head.

"I wish I could," the old medic sighed. "I'm quite exhausted from putting out the fires. He's destroyed most of his room, and now this one. If it goes on much longer, I'll have to put him in the fireplace to protect the rest of this wing..." The pair watched feebly as Merlin grabbed the small blanket upon which he lay, his hand burning quickly through the rough cloth. Gaius rolled his eyes. "And all that screaming is disrupting the castle." There was more than a bit of annoyance in that phrase and Arthur nodded solemnly. "It's been nearly 12 hours, now. You'd think after the first time, he would have been better prepared!"

"True," Arthur responded, looking at Merlin, who was still gripped in pain. "What did you call this again?"

"Sympathy Labor is what the midwives call it," Gaius replied. "Some men get so emotionally involved with their wives' pregnancy that they begin to feel as if they were experiencing it with them. For many fathers, it manifests in having mood swings, cravings, changed eating or sleeping habits that would normally just be the worry of the mother..." Gaius sighed as a small stock of dried herbs took a direct hit from Merlin. "It's not this bad in normal people, but with his magic..." He gave a huff of distress and pointed to the warlock on the bed. "Well, you get this..." He threw his hands up in defeated despair, then pointed to his former apprentice. "Just calm down, Merlin. I'll go see how far your wife is from delivery..."

Arthur approached the bed cautiously after Gaius left them. This sympathy labor pain had seemed to subside and the King could only hope that boded well for his Court Sorcerer and closest friend. He smirked slightly as he stared down at the whining man. "Merlin, you have to calm yourself. This is worse than last time..."

Pain-stained eyes opened and glared at his friend, his King. "Right, calm myself? Like you did when Gwen was expecting your last child? There wasn't a safe pastry in the entire castle!" He regarded his friend just as the next pain came. With strained words the agonized warlock spoke, "Which reminds me, you really need to train a bit more – it's only been a couple months..." But he said no more, just motioned to the King's midsection.

"MERLIN!" Arthur yelled, indignantly. "I am NOT FAT!"

finis