AN: I thought to tide you all over that I would post a little one-shot, inspired by brightporclain's gif over at tumblr. Go check her out!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. BBC owns "Merlin".

Squinting against the sun the blonde-haired king threw down his shield.

"Well done," he commented, watching the young knight-to-be that he had been sparring with look up in surprise at the compliment.

The king was known to be rather strict with his knights, using praise only when it was justly deserved. Camelot's monarch wasn't one to coddle his knights, especially the extremely impressionable young ones such as the man before him. It was through discipline, superb training, and the king's military experience that made the Knights of Camelot a force to be reckoned with.

"Your Majesty," the man murmured in thanks, bowing as the king passed him.

"That will be all for this afternoon," he ordered, addressing the rest of the men assembled. He hid an eye-roll as he caught more than one young man sigh in relief.

This stage, before they were too far into their training, was when the less enthusiastic noblemen of the group were weeded out. He had no time for such men.

His time was much better spent on his pregnant wife.

Leaving Leon to say a few words to the gathered men, Arthur started the short trek back toward the citadel.

With a few weeks left toward the estimated date of his child's birth the courtiers had begun to speculate over every detail of the new baby.

What would its name be?

Who would it look like?

And -most spoken of- would it be a he?

He knew what was riding on this first pregnancy: a male heir for Camelot.

The need for a male heir had been hammered into his head as soon as he had reached marriageable age. After all, what would all his work be for if it could not be carried on by another of his bloodline? His sweat, his blood and that of his forefathers: gone.

Arthur hadn't commented on the gender of his unborn child publicly, having not wanted to cause any grief for Guinevere. He knew well enough that there were those who would like nothing better than to see the new queen fail. He refused to add any fuel to their fire by speaking of his future son, in the event that his wife birthed a daughter.

Honestly, if his wife did produce a girl, he wouldn't mind.

There was still time, if that occurred, for them to produce another child. Multiple children.

But most importantly, he hoped that his wife and child would make it through the birth alive. As the birth date loomed over their heads he found himself growing more and more anxious. Which led to him being over attentive to his bloated wife. Which in turn caused her to feel suffocated and insist that she was 'not made of glass'.

It almost felt as if he was entering another world entirely once he stepped into her chambers.

Everything in the sitting room was just so...feminine.

Perhaps it was the lack of shields and bits of armor that were so common in his chambers. However it was more likely the inhabitants of the room that were different than his own.

Ladies-in-waiting sat before the fire, embroidering last minute swaddling blankets and hats. Dressed in his armor and mail he felt even more alien compared to their silks and damasks. He waved them away as they made to stand and instead addressed Gwen's chief lady.

"Where is my wife?" he inquired, having noticed that she wasn't in her normal perch by the window that overlooked the courtyard.

The woman, somewhere in her fifties, bowed her head as she addressed him.

"She is resting within, Your Grace," she replied, sending a fretful look toward the heavy chamber door.

"The babe has been giving her trouble again..."

He withheld a grimace and instead nodded at the woman's words. He slipped into the next room- his wife's bedchamber- as silently as he could.

He hated to see her tiny winces and looks of discomfort as their child moved about her womb, unknowingly causing his wife pain. It had not bothered her as much earlier on in her pregnancy but with the birth approaching, and the child growing, her small body was no longer able to provide adequate room, causing her discomfort.

She had a rather hard time sleeping at night, flipping about to try to find a comfortable position. Her back was bothering her as of late due to the weight she was carrying, and the position of the child left her few options when sleeping.

When she did finally fall asleep it was often in a position that was rather...unusual.

He would call last week's position unusual, at the least: he had woken up with the queen's left foot in his face.

Yet if resting like that allowed her to sleep through the night, he would gladly slumber with her foot before his eyes for the rest of her pregnancy.

The room was considerably darker than the outer chamber as the waiting women had thoughtfully drawn the heavy curtains. Arthur blinked a few times to adjust his sight before approaching his sleeping wife.

She rested upon the feather bed, having not bothered to change from her day gown.

Smiling faintly he paused beside her, reaching down to brush a curl away from her cheek.

She had to live through this birth. She had to.

He frankly couldn't imagine a world without her beside him; it was unfathomable.

But he, out of everyone, knew how stubborn Gwen could be. She would not allow herself to perish while she had a child to mother. If it were possible to will oneself to stay alive his queen could manage it.

Leaning down gently, careful not to jostle his armor too much, he pressed a light kiss to her temples.

"I love you," he whispered, resiting the urge to fully kiss her awake.

Instead he pulled upon his restraint, straightening to observe her once more before silently leaving.

The queen smiled in her sleep, drifting farther into dreams of a dark haired, blue eyed child.