A/N: I could put a warning on this for spoilers, but I don't think I will. I'll put a warning for something else instead.
WARNING: DOSES OF PURE, REFINED FLUFF AHEAD! READER MAY CHOKE ON SAP AND SENTIMENTALITY! BEWARE THE SAPPY FANFIC OF ELFPEN!
…Yeah, that ought'a do it.
Duncan glanced concernedly over at Horace. The man was sitting with his head bent over his lap, white-knuckled hands gripping the back of his neck. From his position, Duncan couldn't see his face, but knew that there were dark circles beneath his eyes and a line of worry persisting between his eyebrows. He'd been like this for some hours.
It made sense, of course. It was only a lifetime of training that kept Duncan from assuming a similarly anxious pose. The king tried not to wince as another dull cry carried through the walls of the adjacent room, a pained voice that he knew well. He saw Horace's knuckles grow whiter. The whole ordeal was relatively ordinary, in the larger scheme of things, and yet it was so much bigger than that. It should have been easy - exciting, even. But the pervasive emotion in the small antechamber was far from it; it was pure anxiety and fear.
When his daughter and her husband informed him months ago that he was going to be a grandfather, Duncan had been inexpressibly happy. The thought set well with him, and he couldn't imagine two people who would make finer parents than Cassandra and Horace. Then, slowly, a doubt began to creep up in his mind. He tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself that things were different. He didn't mention his fears to the excited young parents-to-be, but as it turned out, he didn't have to. Sometime after evidence of the baby began to show on Cassandra's profile, she'd gone the head midwife, a trusted woman whom she'd known all her life, in tears. She told her all the pent up fears that she dare not reveal to her husband or her father, not knowing that both of them had already thought of the exact same problem.
Cassandra was strong, it was true, but she was also very small; small like her mother had been when she'd become pregnant with Cassandra. Her small stature cost Cassandra's mother her life; her body was simply unable to handle the stress of childbirth. She died the day Cassandra was born.
And now, Cassandra herself was facing the same daunting task with the same obstacles. The royal family would have been daft had they not considered the worst.
In response to the Princess' tears, the kind of midwife had assured her optimistically and showed her ways that she might prepare to be ready when the baby came. She encouraged both King and Prince that everything would be fine, that the Princess was strong and spirited, and would do just fine. But the doubt still remained.
Tension played as backdrop to the whole pregnancy. No one spoke about it, and truly, Horace and Cassandra couldn't have been more excited or happy. Or anxious. Then finally, the tension came to the forefront when the day finally arrived, when at two hours past midnight, Cassandra went into labor.
Duncan glanced at the water clock in the corner. That had been four hours ago. Now, just as dawn was cracking over the horizon, the pained screams intensified and he could hear the healers all begin to talk at once. For one horrible, awful moment, he remembered the day when Cassandra was born, the day he'd lost his beloved wife. He glanced over at Horace, who was as stiff and solid as stone. Worried, terrified stone. Had that day been like this, Duncan wondered? He found he couldn't remember exactly, and then, he suddenly didn't have time to.
Another cry erupted from the room, but this time, it was different. It was a baby's cry.
After hours of stooping, Horace's head shot up and he looked sharply at the door. White as a ghost with terror on his face and a glimmer of hope in his eye, he waited. The water clock dripped noisily for several long minutes. Duncan stood when he heard the door latch lift. One of the midwives came out and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could, Duncan asked quickly,
"Is she alright? Is the child alright?"
The midwife let out a breath and smiled at the king. "She's exhausted, but she's doing just fine; yes, she's alright." Duncan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, but Horace still looked tense. "As for the child," the young healer turned to Horace with an irrepressible grin, "Congratulations, your Highness. You have a beautiful little son."
All at once, Horace's face cleared and flushed and twisted up in an emotion only a father could recognize. "It's a boy?" He managed. The midwife beamed at the look on his face, and nodded.
"Aye, and a strong, healthy one at that."
"Can… Can I..?" Horace slowly stood, and the midwife shook her head softly and told him, not unkindly,
"Not just yet, we have to get mummy and baby cleaned up first, then you can come in. I'll come back and let you in when we're done." She couldn't help but to smile again, her cheeks dimpling. "Congratulations again, your Highness, your Majesty." She nodded to the two royals and slipped back into the room.
Once she was gone, Horace finally let out his pent-up breath and let his shoulders sag, sinking back into his seat with some mix of relief and wonder and a totally different kind of anxiety. He looked almost in a daze as he said, rather redundantly, "I have a son. I… I'm a father…" He wasn't talking to anyone in particular.
Duncan looked down and tried to hide the fact he was grinning from ear to ear. He didn't say anything to the man, because there was nothing to say. He knew from personal experience that Horace would forever look back on this day as one of the most wonderful days of his life, and Duncan wasn't about to spoil it by interrupting his thoughts. For his part, Duncan was having a whole new experience in seeing his daughter and the man he'd grown to call son become parents. Surreptitiously, he wiped the tears from his eyes.
It was a few minutes later when the same midwife peeked her head out the door. "Your Highness? You can come in now." She told him in a quiet voice.
Horace looked suddenly terrified, and glanced back at Duncan quickly, as if to ask his king what to do. Duncan smiled and nodded his head at the door. Go on, his look prodded. Swallowing, Horace rose and tried not to rush into the room too quickly.
The healer might have asked him to keep his voice at a whisper, if he didn't mind, but Horace didn't really notice, because his eyes had locked on the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his life. Cassandra, hair mused and eyes red, baggy infirmary clothes bunched around her and drowning in freshly replaced sheets, holding a small pinkish bundle that inexplicably put a lump in Horace's throat. Then she looked at him, eyes alight with wonder and relief and weariness. He went to her side and looked down at his son with awe. He brushed his finger across an unbelievably small forehead that peeked out from the blankets, and his son moved. He looked up at met his wife's gaze, and she beamed at him. Suddenly, he was crying and he couldn't stop.
She didn't stop him, only smiled and cried a few tears with him. "He looks just like you might have when you were little," Cassandra said, and added in a watery attempt at sarcasm, "but thank God he doesn't have your nose." Horace laughed through some remaining tears and nodded. "I would hope not. What color are his eyes?"
She shook her head. "He hasn't opened them yet, that I can see. Mistress Wynn says it may take time. That's why the lights are dimmed." Horace nodded and continue to look at their baby. Suddenly, the chubby pink face contorted into a yawn. The parents laughed.
In all honesty, the young royal wasn't particularly attractive at that hour. Minutes old, chubby and pink, he looked just as, if not more tired than his mother, with a great deal less dignity for the fact. And yet, when he looked at his little baby boy, Horace could only think one thought.
"He's beautiful," he told his wife. She smiled up at him.
"Here," she said, shifting to carefully lift the small body up, "hold him,"
Thrust again into an expression of terror, Horace responded dumbly. He'd held children before, even ones so small as this. Growing up in a ward surrounded by all ages including infants, he was no stranger to childcare. And yet, this seemed so different. As though the child might break in his huge arms, Horace gently lowered his son into a cradling embrace. The baby hardly noticed the change in position, and continued to twitch his mouth and fingers in sleep. His father's arms were warm and comforting, and made a lovely bed.
"Well hello there, little one." He said, touching a cheek with a gigantic finger. The baby responded to the touch by latching onto his father's finger with a grip far stronger than Horace might have guessed. He smiled. "Look at you, already showing your strength." He glanced at Cassandra. "What might we call you, eh?"
"William," Cassandra said without hesitation. Horace looked up at her. They'd spoken, almost in jest, about naming their child after their dear friend, Will Treaty, should it be a boy. Will was truly just 'Will' and not 'William', but William was typically the source of the nickname. Horace wasn't opposed to the name, but a detail bothered him. Cassandra beat him to it. "We'll call him Liam for short," she told him, smiling, "We can't have two Wills running around, now can we?"
Horace smiled and turned his eyes back on the small body in his arms. "Well, then, William it is. Liam. Little Liam – do you like that?"
Liam gurgled suddenly.
Horace let out a bark of laughter. "I take that as a yes."
With that settled, Horace leaned carefully over his son and kissed the new mother soundly on the mouth.
"I was hoping I wouldn't interrupt anything, I'm sorry…" Duncan said in an uncharacteristically sheepish tone, ducking out of the room from where he'd stepped in. Cassandra stopped him.
"No, daddy, get back in here right now," she told him with authority.
Duncan stepped back inside. "I suppose I can't refuse that tone without getting in trouble, can I?" He drew nearer. "I've been told I have a grandson now. Can I see him?" Duncan tried to peek around Horace's shoulder. The knight obligingly turned around and carefully placed his son in Duncan's arms. The king's face broke into an unrestrained smile.
"Ah, Horace, I'm afraid he's handsomer than the both of us. No wonder those healer maids can't stop fussing about him." Little William finally seemed to realize that someone other than mummy or daddy was holding him, and grabbed at Duncan's hand. Grandpa stroked the tiny hand with his thumb. "Ah, hello, er…" He looked up at Horace. The new father smiled.
"William," He said. Duncan chuckled in recognition of the namesake.
"Well then, William, I'm happy to meet you, and happier to see that you've left my daughter in one piece." He leaned down to kiss Cassandra's brow, then straightened back up. "Well, you definitely have your father's looks, but I see you've at least got one thing from your mother's side of the family," He said.
"The nose?" Cassandra asked.
"No, the eyes."
"What?" Horace came around to look and saw immediately that William had squinted open his eyes. In the dull light, they shone a light pale green.
"Green," Horace said. Cassandra smiled, and Duncan handed the baby back to his mother.
"Oh, I knew there had to be something. A boy can't look just like his father," Cassandra said with a hint of pride.
"He pulls of green rather nicely, I think." Horace said. Cassandra looked at him as if he was dense.
"Of course he does. He's my son, and he's absolutely smashing."
Duncan couldn't hold back a laugh, and neither could Horace.
Then, quietly, Liam began to coo, then to cry. A midwife appeared.
"Alright, you two, I hate to rush you off, but it's sounds as though baby wants his first meal, and you menfolk are in the way here."
Duncan bid his daughter and his new grandson goodbye and left first. Horace lingered long enough to kiss his son on his downy head and his wife on the cheek. "I love you. Both of you," he told them, and then to her, "And I am so glad that you're alright." Cassandra smiled and squeezed his hand affectionately as he left. The midwife shut the door softly behind him.
Outside, Duncan and Horace met gazes and for a moment, just stared. Then, they both spontaneously broke into smiles of pure, unadulterated joy.
The anxiety of months melted away in an instant, now seemingly insignificant in comparison to the huge adventure that awaited their family in the form of a pink little face and bright green eyes.
And what an adventure it would be.
A/N: Whew! Wrote that whole thing in an hour-long writing frenzy. I tell you, my wrists are killing me. Let me know if you spot any typos.
Read and Review, please!