A/N: It's been a while. A long, long while. Like I said in the previous A/N, I've been really busy. Sorry. But I have a new chapter for you guys, and I really hope you like it. This one's a doozy.
IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, although I do love them very much. These characters belong to the BBC and the relevant production companies. Any characters that are of my own creation will be listed below.
OCs: Alara, Gaheris, Meilyr
CHAPTER NINE
Alara's morning hadn't gone to plan. She's been dealing with a funny stomach for the last day or so; one minute it was a craving for lemon cakes, and the next her head was in a bucket vomiting said lemon cakes back up. So far that day she had eaten both her own and Mordred's breakfast, excused herself from her duties multiple times to use the chamber-pot, and now she was once again eating a large lunch.
Something was up.
Everyone in the castle could see what was the matter. Leon was close to saying something before Percival and Gwaine stopped him.
Even Mordred could see that something was different about Alara, but couldn't put his finger on it. "You're far more restless than usual, my love," He said. "Is something the matter?"
"Something must be. I have these funny feelings in my stomach and I can barely keep any food down."
"It sounds like you're sick. Maybe you should visit Gaius."
She nodded. As she rose from her seat, Alara's head began to feel fuzzy and her vision went blank. Mordred caught her expertly and rushed her to Gaius' chambers.
"What's happened?" The old man asked.
Mordred laid her on the work table. "She was getting up from the chair and suddenly fainted."
Gaius examined Alara: he checked her pulse, her eye movement, and her breathing. "Has she shown any unusual behaviours? Merlin mentioned to me that she has been feeling unwell lately."
"She has been feeling like this for the last few weeks. She's been eating more and becoming increasingly restless. I'm worried."
Gaius paused and went to consult a medical journal.
"Is she going to be okay, Gaius?"
Opening one book, Gaius flit through the pages. "Has Alara been exhibiting excessive nausea, needing to relieve herself more, and an increase in size?"
"Increase in size?"
"To be frank, my boy, does Alara seem to be fatter than usual?"
"Um, I guess? She has mentioned once or twice that her dresses have felt a little tighter in places."
"That explains it then. And by all accounts I'm surprised that Alara hadn't noticed before now."
Mordred stared at Gaius, waiting for his response. The suspense filling the room like a burning forest fire.
"Alara's pregnant. She's expecting a baby."
Mordred tried very hard not to grab Alara and swing her around as she woke up. He kissed her and held her tightly against him as she tried to understand what was going on.
"What happened?"
"You-you fainted. I bought you to Gaius." Mordred couldn't stop smiling. "The most wonderful thing has happened."
She turned her gaze to Gaius, who sat just off from them. He was devoted to the medical journal in his hands. "What? What wonderful thing?"
"We know, well I know, why you've been feeling so strange lately."
"Why?"
"You're pregnant. We're expecting a baby."
"A-a-a baby? Me? Us?"
Mordred nodded, trying to fight back the tears that were prickling his eyes. "I can't believe this. I can't believe we're having a baby." He tried to kiss her once more, but she pushed him away.
"I can't."
"Can't? What do you mean can't? Aren't you happy?"
Alara shrugged, "I guess? I don't really know. I mean, the more I think about it the more how I felt makes sense." She walked away to leave the room.
"What? You don't want this baby?"
"I do, Mordred, I really do. And I cannot be any happier, but I need time. Just ... just give me time, okay?"
That night Mordred slept in the barracks. He made another attempt to speak to Alara, but she wouldn't talk. She instead turned to face the blazing fire, her hand softly rubbing circles into her very round stomach.
The other knights were pleased for him, offering swings of ale from a wineskin and giving congratulations.
"You little rascal!" Gwaine ruffled his hair.
Mordred smiled meekly.
Percival, once the noise had died down, roused the young man out of his trance and bought him away from the others. "You don't seem too happy about becoming a father."
"I am." Mordred replied. "Ecstatic, even. It's just Alara. She doesn't seem as excited."
"Look at it from her perspective," Percival said. "Alara has had quite a shock. She's not been feeling herself as it is, only to find out the reason being is that she's expecting a baby."
Mordred sighed, "I guess. Aren't women supposed to be happy that they're expecting a baby?"
"Yes and no. Sometimes babies happen when it's least expected, and I think that's why Alara's reaction isn't what you anticipated. Take it from me: I was one of ten children. My mother got sick of becoming pregnant after I came along. For a large part of her life, she did nothing else but have babies and look after the ones she already had."
"And was she happy?"
"In a way, yes. She had a family. But she had bad days where all she and my father did were scream at each other about not having enough food to eat or having enough space in our home to accommodate us all."
Mordred grew wide-eyed. "But I don't want that for me and Alara. I mean, if she wants a lot of children, then sure, but I want her to be happy."
Percival placed a reassuring arm around Mordred's shoulders. "I know you do. Go and talk to her. Let her know that you understand, and want her to be happy."
"Alara?" Mordred lightly knocked on the door. "I want to talk. We need to talk."
The soft footfalls of Alara's steps gave Mordred pause as the door opened. "Come in." She said.
As the night carried on, both held each other close, not saying anything. Mordred's hand was lovingly draped over Alara's stomach, his palm trying to encompass roundness of it.
Mordred's dream was different now. This time he was holding a limp Alara, who was ghostly pale, blood seeping from her dress. Help, somebody help! Please, she's dying! We need help! Darkness crept into the space around him, and the frozen bite of an icy chill prickled the back of his neck. There was laughter; not jovial and full of warmth, but one that resembled an all too familiar voice. Alara gripping at his chest startled him: Mordred ... Why didn't you save us? Why did you have to leave?
An ear-piercing scream woke him up. It was Alara.
"Shush, shush. I'm here, it's only me. My love you're safe." Mordred held the distraught young woman close to him as he slowly rocked her.
She was inconsolable: Alara was hyperventilating and trying to form words.
The door to the chamber was being slammed open by Merlin, his eyes liquid gold and fury in his muscles. "What's happened? What did you do to her?"
"I didn't do anything! I was sleeping when all of a sudden she started screaming!"
Merlin held Alara's face. Tears stained her red cheeks, and her breathing was rapid. "Alara? Alara, I need you to breathe. Like this." Merlin let out deep and steady breaths, with Alara eventually copying him. He closed his eyes and readjusted his grip. "Gefultuma híe þæt heo onslæpe."
Alara exhaled and immediately fell asleep, her breathing now at a normal pace.
Mordred laid her down on the bed. "What did you do?"
"A sleep enchantment. I've used it a small handful of times. It's very powerful."
Mordred picked up his sword and sat by the dying fire, his grip on the hilt as white as bone. "You go back to bed, Merlin. I'll keep watch."
Morgause traced along the length of the hall, raking her nails against the cold stone. "Another successful night of torment." The brightness of the sunlight bouncing off of the snow broke through the ghost. It was harsh on her as an apparition.
Morgana smirked. "I can see it's truly rattled them. Especially Alara."
"She is with child. She's far more sensitive to our magic now than she ever was before." Morgause said. "Maybe we should press further on the matter."
"What matter?"
"Let's give those two far more to worry about."
Morgana stopped. She didn't like the tone Morgause was taking. "You aren't suggesting ..."
"Oh yes."
"I hate everyone who lives within that damned city, and I want to see Arthur and Merlin suffer. But this is a child. They may be the child of my enemy's sister, but a child nonetheless. You go too far."
Morgause threw her sister against the wall with all of her might. "You're too soft. We need to show these worms who they are dealing with. And if you are too cowardly to do so, then I will."
Alara remained in their bed for the rest of the day, with Mordred excused from his duties. He stayed by Alara's side, unmoving. His hand once again enveloping her gravid midriff; the soft flutterings beneath his hand bringing comfort.
"I saw terrible things." She whispered.
"What kind of things?" He asked. "You said to me that in order to get rid of bad dreams, we talk about them."
Her breath was shakey. "I... I can't. It's too painful."
"Okay." He kissed her forehead. "You can tell me when you're ready."
Alara drew herself in closer to him. They sat in silence, nothing between them but their slow breathing.
The next evening, Alara seemed for more herself. Mordred couldn't help but stare at how her dress caressed her now very present middle. She was far more beautiful than ever before: her eyes seemed to have this hidden sparkle to it that only came out when the light hit them just right; her hair flowed down her back as if it were a dense waterfall, gentle and soft.
As she went, Alara kept giggling to herself and cradling the baby.
"I could feel him last night. The baby." Alara spoke. "He was ... I don't know, twitching? Or rolling. Whatever babies do when they're in there."
"He? So you know it's a boy?"
"It could be a girl for all I know. But I have a feeling that this baby is a boy."
Mordred smiled, "Okay then." He closed his eyes and focused on the baby's movements. They felt bubbly and light, nothing too strong, but it was like their baby was trying to tell them something.
"What do you think of the name Derien, if the baby is a boy?" She asked.
"Derien? That's a good name."
"It was my father's name. I just wish he was around to meet his grandchild." She gasped, moving her hands across her stomach wildly. "I think the baby likes that."
Mordred laughed and kissed her belly. "And what do you think of the name Alyenor if the baby is a girl?"
"Alyenor ... It's nice."
He smiled, "It was my mother's name."
"It's beautiful."
"Just like you." He kissed her softly. "Marry me." Mordred whispered.
"What?"
"Marry me."
"You want to-" Alara paused. "You want to get married?"
"I guess I've been thinking about it for a while now, and finding out about the baby has made me sure that that's what I want to do."
"Okay then," Alara beamed. "Let's get married."
"Wait. You're saying yes?"
"Of course I am, you big dummy! I want to be your wife!"
Mordred leaped off of the bed and began to rummage through his belongings. Upon returning, he got down to one knee. "I swear by the gods I hold dear, and whoever else is out there, I will always love you. Alara, will you be my wife?"
Tears in her eyes, Alara nodded and offered her hand. "Yes. In this life and the next, yes!"
Upon hearing the news that Mordred had proposed to Alara, Arthur immediately ordered that a grand feast be prepared in honour of the young couple.
"You have my congratulations and my well-wishes." He pat Mordred on the back.
Gwen was ecstatic at the prospect. "I cannot believe this. First a baby and now a wedding. Gods I wish you all the happiness in the world."
