I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.
- Abide With Me, Henry Francis Lyte
Nella never knew that it took so long to birth a child. She had no older siblings, and until coming to Camelot had spent most of her life sequestered in their country estate, never accompanying her mother to visit her aunts and cousins when they were due to give birth, but kept away, alone and uninformed.
She and Princess Elena had returned from their morning ride to find the castle abuzz with the news that the Queen was in labour, and for a moment Nella had been dismayed, fearful she had missed it. But they had been admitted to Guinevere's chamber to find her walking around the room attended to by her maid Constance, Hunith, and the midwife Alys. Valeda was seated in her usual chair by the fire, watching but not interceding - there had been tension between her and Alys these past few days, with the latter certain "the druid woman" was trying to usurp her privilege in waiting on the Queen in her childbed, and so it seemed Valeda was pointedly not going to involve herself unless called upon.
Elena had taken it upon herself to keep Guinevere occupied through her pains, chattering on until Nella was sure her voice would give out. For her part Nella tried her best to join in, but found it difficult to watch her friend double over and writhe and cry out, Alys rubbing her back and dotting her forehead with a cloth, helping her to breathe through it.
It had been hours, and poor Gwen was exhausted, no longer able to make responses to Elena's conversation. She had been sick twice in a bucket and Nella had been worried something was wrong, but Hunith had patted her on the arm and explained that it was not uncommon. Still, it did not seem natural that such pain was required to bring life into the world, and Nella dreaded that she would ever have to endure it.
Every so often Alys would coax the queen to the bed and draw the drapes to check the progress - how exactly, Nella was unsure. She moved to stand by the window where Elena was looking out through the open casement to give Gwen as much privacy as possible.
"How much longer do you think?" she asked softly.
Elena shrugged. "I've only seen it with horses, and it certainly doesn't seem to take my mare very long." She cocked her head in thought. "But then, the foal gets up and walks straight away, so it's hardly a good comparison."
Alys emerged from behind the drapes looking nonplussed. "You are still in the first stage, my lady," she said, washing her hands in a basin of water proffered by Constance. "All is going well."
Guinevere began to pace the room again, and Hunith moved to take her arm and help her walk, whispering something Nella couldn't hear, but was sure was remained in her armchair, singing softly to herself in the druid tongue.
"What is that?" Elena said suddenly, and pointed through the open casement and to the horizon. Nella turned to look out, and indeed there was something in the sky flying towards them at a rapid pace, with a wingspan much larger than a bird's.
"Is it a griffin?" she asked with great fear, having seen a drawing once that had given her nightmares.
"No," Elena shook her head, shielding her eyes from the sun. "It's white. And is there…something on its back?"
Valeda quickly joined them at the window. "It's a dragon," she proclaimed, and Nella peered out, trying to make sense of the creature's form. Surely it was too small? She'd never seen a dragon, but her father had told her of how he'd once fought alongside King Uther against one, and described it as a monster the size of a manor house.
"It's Merlin," Gwen cried out with happiness, lumbering over to the window with Hunith's help. "He's the only one who could ride a dragon."
"A dragon," Nella breathed, transfixed by the sight of Merlin coming into focus, perched on the creature's back as it soared through the air towards them. But her wonder turned to fear as they seemed to come closer quite rapidly.
"They're going to hit us!" she screeched, ducking down and covering her head, Elena threw her body in front of Gwen's and Hunith stumbled backwards onto the floor. Only Valeda and Gwen herself did not move, and at the last moment before it seemed the dragon would crash through the window it veered upwards, giving them all a close up view of the white scales of its belly and the flourish of its spiked tail.
Nella's heart was pounding, but she rose to her feet and gave a delighted laugh. Gwen smiled for the first time in hours, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she patted Elena's hand and thanked her for her bravery, however unnecessary it had been. Alys had backed up against the wall, white as a sheet and her hand over her heart. Valeda went to the poor woman, taking her hand and coaxing her back to the centre of the room. Hunith had the brightest smile Nella had ever seen, her eyes shining as she gave Gwen a hug.
"You see?" she said as she pulled away. "My Merlin keeps his promises."
The dragon must have landed up on the parapet, because a few minutes later Merlin burst through the doors and swaggered into the room as if he had no care in the world.
"What did I miss?" he said with a cocky grin, stretching out his arms. Nella could see the fatigue behind his smile - his clothes were dirty and his hair windswept - but he covered it well, crossing the room in a few strides to fold Guinevere into a tight embrace.
"Be careful," Alys, recovered from her shock, scolded him.
"It's alright," Gwen told her, pulling back to gaze happily up at Merlin's face. "I'm just happy you made it back. Is Kilgharrah…?"
Merlin nodded, a wave of sorrow passing over his face, and Valeda said what might have been a small prayer in the druid tongue.
"Who was the other?" Gwen asked, her hands clutching Merlin's arms for support as she was troubled by the beginning of another contraction.
"Aithusa," Merlin breathed, and Nella thought the name was beautiful. "I told you about her - remember?"
Gwen nodded, a crease forming between her eyes. "But I thought…"
"Kilgharrah's final act on this earth," Merlin said soberly, "was to reconcile us to one another."
"I'm glad," Gwen said, but her face crumpled in pain and she started to sink to the floor, letting out a guttural cry.
"What is it?" Merlin asked, looking fearfully to his mother as he struggled to hold Gwen upright.
"It is her pains." Hunith took his arm, urging him to let go as Valeda took over charge of the queen. "This is the way of things, Merlin."
He cast a worried glance at Gwen that mirrored Nella's own concern - but Hunith had birthed one child, Valeda many, and the midwife had delivered perhaps hundreds, and none of them seemed perturbed by the queen's continued cries. Alys just gestured to Constance to bring the water bowl and cold cloth to press gently to Gwen's forehead and cheeks.
"Is there nothing we can do to relieve her pain?" Merlin pressed, looking to Elena for support, who was eager to come forward and provide it.
"I've heard some women carry a lodestone during the birth," she said, "to help the baby know the way."
"And should she not be lying down?" Nella added, concerned the child would not have room to come out if Gwen was standing.
"I can use magic," Merlin proffered, "a spell to take away this agony, to make things easier."
"Alright, that's it!" Alys threw up her hands, glaring at the three of them. "Anyone male or a maid, please leave the room immediately. It is unseemly - and unhelpful - for you to be here."
"But I only just got back!" Merlin proclaimed, but Hunith grasped him by the arm. Nella felt suitably cowed by the midwife's hard stare, and Elena looked to Gwen for her opinion but she was leaning into Valeda's neck, grasping her arm for support, and said nothing. Perhaps it was too crowded, too many people demanding the queen's attention rather than providing her relief.
Only Constance held firm, clutching her silver basin and cloth resolutely, but the midwife gave her a nod of assent. A servant's prerogative, Nella supposed, and made her way to the door with Elena. Merlin hesitated, but Hunith squeezed his arm.
"Gwen knows you're here if she needs you," she told him with a mother's authority, and Merlin huffed, but then allowed himself to be herded from the room.
"Well," he said as the door closed behind them. "How's that for a welcome?"
He folded his arms and sighed, looking about clearly at a loss. Perhaps he intended to remain outside the doors until it was over, but Nella did not much like the thought of sitting on the cold stones.
"Sir Leon is hosting the knights and nobles in the great hall," she said somewhat tentatively. "I think Gaius is there - Alys wouldn't let him in the room either. They're having a feast to honour the arrival of the prince."
"While Gwen's up here doing all the hard work." Merlin gave a wry smile, then glanced at the closed door. "I don't want to be far."
"Come to my rooms," Elena suggested. "They're just down there, and I can have some wine and food sent up - and feed for your dragon, Merlin."
"Oh, she's gone," Merlin waved his hand as they walked down the hall. "She's not mine, you see."
"But will she come back?" Nella had wanted so much to see a dragon - when she'd heard the great Kilgharrah was dying she thought she'd never get the chance.
"Yes I think she will." Merlin said pensively, but then gave her a smile. "A white dragon is a good omen for Camelot."
"Breathe, my lady," Alys urged her. "It's not much longer now..."
For Gwen it felt as if it had been an age; she could barely remember what it felt like to not be in pain. Elena's inane chatter and Hunith's soothing promises had helped keep her distracted, and then the elation of Merlin's return had been a brief respite, but that had been hours ago and yet the child still had not come.
Wild fear gripped her heart, and even though Alys had assured her all was going smoothly, was she really meant to endure such agony to bring her son into the world? She was well attended, with countless more downstairs ready to raise their cups to her well being, but her soul cried out for the one person she should have been sharing the moment with, his love a grace against her pain.
Would Arthur be at her side, or would he have been sent from the room like the others? No; Gwen knew no midwife's decree would keep him from her, that he wouldn't care what was expected of kings awaiting their heirs, and that no force in the land would have kept him from her. He would take her hand, his other arm holding her firmly around the shoulders, bracing her body with his strength and holding her tightly through her pains. He would kiss her temple and whisper love, his faith in her so powerful she would believe it too.
But he wasn't there, because Morgana had waged war against them, because Mordred had betrayed them - because Nimue had cast a curse that one life must be exchanged for another. It all came back to that, and Gwen feared that the cycle would never end, that brief happiness would always be punctuated by devastating loss, and rather than giving her son a golden world to inherit, she was only bequeathing him a kingdom of doom.
She leaned against the bedpost and screamed as pain wracked her body, so powerful it felt as if she was being split in two. And yet Gwen would have endured ten times as much to keep the child safe inside her, inured in her womb away from all of those who wished him ill, safe from the dangers he would face the moment he entered the world.
"It is time, my lady," Alys urged her, trying to lead her to the birthing chair.
"No," Gwen clutched the bedpost so tightly her knuckles went white. "I can't…I can't protect him."
"All will be well," Hunith said soothingly, rubbing her back. "This is the hard part, but you're doing so well."
"No…the curse," Gwen started to babble, sick with pain and fatigue and fear that she was not strong enough. "If it doesn't take me, it will take him. Like his father, not even magic could save him. You said it," she addressed Valeda, who crossed the room to draw close to her. "Nimue's curse that Pendragon blood would not prosper."
"Guinevere." Valeda cupped her face in her hands. "You do not stand alone, look around this room, to your castle, to your kingdom. To your knights and subjects and friends. To me. To Hunith and Nella and Elena. To Merlin."
She smiled and stared deeply into Gwen's eyes, and she felt, to her very heart.
"What curse could possibly subsist, in the face of such love?"
Gwen let out a shaky breath, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks. Valeda was right - history was not doomed to repeat itself so long as every day she made choices to the contrary. That was what Arthur had realised in the aftermath of her last failed pregnancy - to not fear the future but let it come, and face it - perhaps if he were with her he would have reminded her of the lesson. Or maybe he had - gifting her memory when the birth was imminent, so it was in the forefront of her mind. Maybe he was with her, in a way - maybe Avalon was not that far, here on the brink between life and whatever lay before and after.
And even if her life was forfeit, even if all the evils of the world were directed against them, her son would have so many who loved him, to protect him either by her side or in her stead. She had to trust them. She had to trust herself.
She let go of the bedpost and slowly made her way to the birthing chair. Constance appeared on one side, dabbing the sweat from her forehead with her cool damp cloth, and Hunith placed herself on the other, taking her hand like any mother would and holding firm. Valeda began to sing her song again, and Alys urged her to push.
It was extreme agony for what seemed like another age, but nothing compared to the relief and joy Gwen felt when she finally heard the baby's cry, collapsing back on the chair. She felt completely wrung out but reached for him, seeking to replace his loss from inside her with the touch of his skin against hers.
"My lady," the midwife handed the child to her immediately, red and bloody and crying. "You have a son."
Gwen drew the child close to her, cradling his little head with renewed strength. Alys massaged her belly to encourage delivery of the afterbirth but she hardly even noticed, her attention was all for the child in her arms – her little boy whose heartbeat she could feel pumping steadily, filling her with such joy and relief she didn't know how to express it.
And yet there was equal sorrow as her heart ached for her husband's presence, to share the moment with him. Was Arthur watching over them from Avalon, as he promised? Could his spirit feel the elation of the moment, was he sharing his joy with the others who dwelled with him on the spectral plane?
"Arthur," she whispered longingly, stroking the patch of dark hair that crowned her son's head as she gazed down at him, trying to reach out to her husband's spirit with the hope that he was somehow reaching back.
"Oh, my lady," Alys looked up from her work, and pressed a hand to her heart, eyes filling with tears. "You are good to name him after the King."
Gwen was about to correct her misunderstanding – that her words were not intended to be addressed to her son, but rather a longing for his father. But she could see the happiness in the midwife's face, the joy mimicked by Hunith who was preparing the basin for the child to be bathed in, and even Constance, who was attending to the swaddling.
She gazed back down at her son, unable to fathom how all the love she felt could be contained in one heart. He had her complexion and dark hair, but there was Arthur in his little face too; his nose and something around the eyes, although they were a deep indigo several shades darker than his father's sky blue. He was both of them; the manifestation of their shared love, but also something completely new, and in that moment Gwen's fears had disappeared to be replaced by boundless hope.
"Hello, my darling," she whispered to him. "Welcome to the world."
When Merlin was finally readmitted to Guinevere's chamber, he found her sitting upright on the bed, looking exhausted but happy, the swaddled child asleep in her arms. The soiled linens had been taken away and Gwen had been dressed in a clean nightgown and her hair combed; a queen ready to present her prince to visitors.
"Oh Gwen," he said softly as she approached. "You did it."
She gently pulled aside the swaddling so he could see the baby's face better, and Merlin was certain he'd never seen such a contended child - although admittedly his exposure to infants had been scant.
"He's so tiny." He sat on the bed, lightly touching his cheek in wonder.
Gwen gave a light laugh. "He didn't feel so on his way out."
Merlin could not imagine - he'd been rattled by Gwen's agnony and in the end was rather relieved he'd been ordered from the room, as he did not know how he would have borne the delivery itself.
"I am going to call him Arthur," Gwen said, searching Merlin's face for a reaction. "What do you think?"
Merlin was so surprised he could not speak, for some reason that was the last name he would have expected Gwen to choose. He understood the desire to keep that connection strong, but also feared it would cause the sorrow to rise every time the name was spoken.
"I...don't know what to think," he said truthfully.
"I know he will already have so much to live up to without having Arthur's name too." Gwen said plaintively, gazing down at her son. "But I don't know, it feels right."
"Then it is right," Merlin said with a smile. "I'm sure Arthur…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, thinking about his friend in Avalon.
"I thought we'd give him a nickname," Gwen said, having obviously thought the matter through. "At least when he's young."
That snagged a memory long thought forgotten, and Merlin started to laugh. Gwen looked at him quizzically, and he lay a hand on her arm so she knew it was not directed at her.
"I was just thinking of a nickname I used to have for Arthur."
"Oh?" Gwen raised one eyebrow. "What was that?"
"Um," Merlin cleared his throat. "Wart."
"I'm sorry?" Gwen was incredulous - they'd certainly had their fun at Arthur's expense in the early days, but he'd never shared that with her as she would have, quite rightly, thought it crude.
"Not to his face," Merlin assured her. "And only in the beginning, when he was a stuck up prat. I would think, oh the Wart wants his already clean armour cleaned again, the Wart demands strawberries in winter, the Wart's broken another perfectly good training dummy."
Gwen started to laugh too. "He was a bit of a wart back then."
"And who knows, like father, like son." Merlin grinned, the idea growing on him.
"Well you're not calling my son Wart," Gwen said with good humour.
Merlin cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes at the baby starting to stir in Gwen's arms. His little face scrunched up, tiny fists rising slightly as he wiggled, still acclimating to his new surroundings.
"He kind of looks like a wart."
"What?" Gwen asked, her voice raising in pitch and covering her son's head protectively.
"You know," Merlin teased. "Kind of little and wrinkly…"
Gwen stroked the baby's head gently. "Don't listen to him, my darling," she told him. "You are beautiful."
"He is beautiful," Merlin assured her as he held out his arms. "The most beautiful baby in all of creation."
Gwen carefully passed the child over, and Merlin was sure to follow Hunith's instruction to the letter about how to hold him. The baby opened his eyes and for a moment his face crumpled to see the shape of a stranger and not his mother, getting ready to let loose a fearsome cry and Merlin was about to pass him back when abruptly his mouth closed again.
For a few moments he stared up at Merlin, and Merlin stared back as the child settled, seeming to accept that the arms holding him were safe. One tiny fist lifted again, fingers uncurling and Merlin offered his forefinger, grinning in wonder as the baby's grasped it tightly.
"Hello Arthur," he said softly, moving his finger up and down as if shaking the boy's hand. "I'm Merlin."