Chapter Text
HRH Prince Uther, Duke of Edinburgh and Her Majesty Queen Ygraine are pleased to announce the birth of a son, delivered at 6:54am on the 6th of December. Both Her Majesty and the boy are well.
The Queen had emerged with the babe in her arms a day later, stepping down the steps of a private London hospital to the awaiting horde of press and paparazzi. Her long blonde hair sits just over her shoulders, as it always has, and her husband stands at her side, smiling and waving for the cameras.
The Prince of Wales, with the barest tufts of blond hair on his head, sleeps through the whole thing.
*
The next day, the birth announcement on the easel outside Buckingham Palace is amended.
HRH Prince Uther, Duke of Edinburgh and Her Majesty Queen Ygraine are pleased to announce their son the Prince of Wales has been named Arthur Charles, of House Pendragon.
The Queen gives her Christmas message nearly three weeks later, her smile wider than it ever has been.
*
The Telegraph, 26th June:
EMRYS. On 24th June, in Caernarfon, to Hunith (née Davies) and Balinor, a son, Merlin, a brother for William.
*
The Prince of Wales is two years old when they examine him.
“Alpha,” the doctor declares, a smile on his weathered face as he emerges from the nursery. “Of course he is. I really wouldn’t expect anything different considering your family history, Your Highness.” He turns to Uther, handing the boy back to him. Arthur squirms in his arms, until he is put down on the floor to toddle around the room. The thick carpet does not help his unsure steps.
“Yes, well, I’m hardly surprised,” Uther sighs, watching his son run over to his mother, sitting on a plush red settee, cooing to the boy. “You know full well my marriage to Ygraine was one of convenience, to re-introduce the Alpha trait to the British monarchy,” he says in a hushed tone, watching his wife play with their son. “Although I must say, I have rather enjoyed it.”
The doctor smiles, ducking his head slightly. “You do seem quite smitten, if I may say so sir.”
“How many times, Gaius?” Uther smiles fondly. “Please, call me Uther behind closed doors.” He seems to remember Gaius’ earlier comment. “She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?” Uther asks with a wistful sigh, and Gaius personally thinks that ‘lovely’ is an understatement. Ygraine holds Arthur’s tiny hands within hers, her face alight as she sings a song with him softly. No wonder she’s universally adored by the British public. “How is your nephew, anyway?”
Gaius’ face lights up, unable to believe that the husband of the Queen, of all people, remembered to ask after his nephew. “Oh, Gwaine is wonderful. Now walking, like your little prince. A handful as always,” the doctor laughs. “A Beta, too. You can never be too sure, but he must be, given our lineage...”
“I understand,” Uther says in absolute sincerity. If the heir apparent had been anything but an Alpha, the public would’ve lost all faith in the attempt to reinstall ensured succession to the monarchy. “You must bring him over to play with Arthur some time. There aren’t many other toddlers of his age at court, I think he would certainly appreciate it.”
Uther watches Ygraine and Arthur play together with a proud smile on his face. The press had doubted Uther’s ability to be a father beyond simply siring the heir, when Ygraine’s pregnancy had been announced nearly three years ago. They had commented on Uther’s nearly pure Alpha lineage, and his ferocious leadership style that had coloured his years spent in the military.
Gaius, privileged to see the growth of the Pendragon family first-hand and up close, knows that all of those rumours had proved completely unfounded. Uther’s Alpha strength had manifested as adoration for his first-born son, the heir to the throne. Prince Arthur.
Gaius nods eventually, and as Uther extends his hand he grips it tightly. “Thank you, sir. It would be an honour.”
*
A week later, the Prince of Wales meets Gwaine Knight for the first time.
Gwaine fiddles with the tie his mother has put him in, feeling nervous even though he’s older and taller than the prince. Arthur totters through from another lavish room, holding his father’s hand, and Gwaine fights the urge to hide behind his mother’s dress. He’s spent the last twenty minutes staring at the painted ceilings; they don’t have painted ceilings in his house.
“Behave,” his mother hisses at him, before curtseying for the Prince Consort. “Your Highness,” she says with a nervous giggle, Gwaine eyeing Arthur as they stand a few feet away from each other in the middle of the palace nursery.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Knight,” Uther says, nudging Arthur forward with a gentle knee to his back. “Arthur has been chattering on about making a new friend all week.”
Arthur, in his tiny shirt and chinos, steps forward towards Gwaine. “I’m Arthur,” he says with a big smile, before turning to point to a corner of the room. “D’you want to play Lego?”
“Yeah!” Gwaine says, grinning, and they both run off giggling, leaving their parents in the middle of the large room.
“Ygraine and I are having tea in the White Drawing Room, if you’ll join us.” Uther gestures to the door, eyes softening when he sees the confusion on Mrs Knight’s face. “Oh, don’t worry about the boys. Arthur’s nanny will make sure they keep out of trouble. Arthur’s Alpha pushiness has begun to emerge and we’re making sure he’s kept in line,” he says with a smile, and Gwaine’s mother can hardly turn down tea with the Queen of England now, can she?
*
Merlin is four years old when his father skips his usual bedtime story.
“Merlin,” Balinor says, sweeping Merlin’s dark hair out of his eyes, wide and curious and peeping out from above a dragon themed duvet. “You know that Dadi is a chef, yeah?”
“Yeah. You cook food for people,” Merlin answers, smiling proudly. “You made the cake for my birthday party and everyone said that it was the best cake in the world.” Balinor’s heart warms at his son’s enthusiasm.
“Exactly. Well, Dadi has a new job now. Daddy is going to be cooking food for the royal family. You know who they are, right?”
Merlin’s eyes light up in the darkness. “Yeah! There’s Queen Ygraine and she’s so pretty, and there’s Prince Uther... why isn’t he a king?! And there’s Arthur and he was on the telly the other day and Mummy was showing me pictures.”
Balinor laughs quietly, tucking Merlin into his bed properly. “Good. I’m glad you know who they are, especially Arthur. Prince Uther - he’s not a king because he’s not of royal blood - he wants you to have some play dates with Prince Arthur, because you’re both roughly the same age. How does that sound?”
Merlin yawns, his body betraying him despite his excitement. “Super! Will we live in the palace?”
“In the servants’ quarters, yeah.” The Emrys family had been given a small two-bedroom apartment, to reflect Balinor’s status as the head chef of the royal household.
“In London?” Merlin squeaks. “Can I speak Welsh there?”
Smiling, Balinor strokes Merlin’s hair, smoothing it down. “Yes, gyda mi a'ch mam. We won’t want you to forget everything your Nain taught you, do we? And Arthur is the Prince of Wales, maybe he’ll want to practice too.”
Merlin smacks his lips together and considers this for a second. “Are there knights and dragons and castles?”
Balinor laughs. “Only in your story books. Sleep now, Merlin. Sweet dreams.”
Balinor stands and hovers at the door to turn out the light, smiling at the happy expression on his son’s face.
*
Arthur fidgets as he sits between his mother and father, almost five years old. The summer heat makes his t-shirt stick to him, and he frowns. He wants to go out and play in the garden, but his mother is talking to him softly.
“Arthur, we’ve got something very special to tell you about today,” Ygraine says, stroking her son’s soft blond hair. “You’re going to have a baby brother or sister,” she says excitedly, but Arthur doesn’t mirror the grin that spreads across her face.
“Can I meet them?!” he asks, turning to his father who laughs and ruffles his hair.
“Not yet, son. They’re growing inside Mummy at the moment, until they’re big enough to come out and meet us.”
“Look, Arthur.”
Ygraine guides her son’s hands to her belly, only just starting to show in her expensive dress, and Arthur only frowns further. “That’s weird. Did you eat them?”
Ygraine blushes but Uther laughs. “In a couple of months, we can tell you if you’ll be having a baby sister or a baby brother. You can even help us choose the name! You mustn’t tell any of your friends though, not until we say it’s alright. It’s a big secret at the moment.”
Arthur thinks about it all as his parents gather him in for a cuddle, something he’s been getting less and less of as he’s grown older. He doesn’t really have any friends to tell, apart from Gwaine, and he hadn’t seen Gwaine that recently.
With a small huff, Arthur slides off the sofa, planning on cosying up to his nanny before asking for a few biscuits and attempting to forget the news.
*
Merlin’s final check up with his doctor takes place three days before the move to London.
“Well Mr Emrys, you should be proud to have raised such a healthy son,” the doctor says cheerfully, placing the stethoscope around his neck once more. “Nothing to be worried about in the slightest.”
“And his classification?” Balinor asks with anxiety in his voice. He helps Merlin down from the table and onto his lap, the boy without a care in the world and oblivious to his father’s concerned tone.
“Certainly not an Alpha, but that should’ve been apparent well before now, anyway. We’ll therefore have to assume Beta. I’m not legally allowed to do that test that tells Omegas from Betas until the boy turns sixteen and his first heat threatens, if he is indeed an Omega.”
“There haven’t been Omegas in my family for generations, and Hunith even had some Alphas as ancestors... surely he couldn’t be an Omega, could he?”
The doctor’s smile fades. “It’s impossible to tell. If an Alpha trait has died out somewhere along the line, it leaves the bloodline susceptible to random mutations in the DNA to create Omegas... it’s brand new research, I’m afraid, I really can’t offer any more explanation than that.”
Balinor closes his eyes for a second, thinking, before Merlin presses a small toy horse against his face and he laughs, eyes flying open. “Thank you, Doctor,” he says eventually, setting Merlin onto the floor. “I’ll let you know our new details in London so you can forward on our records.”
The men shake hands before Balinor ushers Merlin out of the building towards their car.
“Dadi, what’s an omeeeega?” Merlin asks, bright blue eyes looking up at his father. Balinor sighs, adjusting the boy’s dungarees as he helps him into the car.
“Nothing you’ll ever need to worry about,” he says with a smile, pressing a kiss against Merlin’s forehead.
*
Balinor decides to spend his first week in the capital showing Hunith and Merlin around. He’d worked in London many times throughout the years, the most prestigious restaurants vying to attract a chef as proficient as he is. With two weeks between the time they move into the surprisingly spacious servant’s quarters and between Balinor starting his job, they explore London until Merlin is tired and falling asleep on the Tube home every night.
“If only Will had agreed to be transferred,” Hunith says to Balinor quietly, their son sat on her lap in the crowded carriage. “He would’ve loved this.”
“He’s nearly thirteen now, if he wants to stay at the school then we can’t force him,” Balinor replies. Will had been enrolled in an English private school well before Merlin had been born, when Hunith and Balinor had been flitting between European cities so often that settling Will into a single school would’ve been otherwise impossible. Now, though, Merlin would soon join Prince Arthur in his lessons with the royal governess, at the absolute insistence of the Queen herself.
Hunith gently rouses Merlin as Green Park is announced on the tannoy. “Come on Merlin, let’s go home.”
Merlin giggles at the thought that Buckingham Palace is now his home.