Title: To Which We Celebrate

Summary: Three occasions that has cause for celebration.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, that would be BBC. The myth belongs to the UK.

A Birth

Merlin gulped down the ale.

"Sure you don't want any?" He asked, lifting the tankard.

Arthur starred at the empty vessel and then at his increasingly inebriated friend.

"Merlin, why is it that whenever a woman goes into labor, you believe the most appropriate action is drinking to the point you cannot remember your name?"

"Drinking ale is for big occasions," Merlin replied plainly, "This is a big occasion. Have some, you're about to become a grandfather."

"I rather meet my grandchildren sober."

A heavy march of footsteps came, and Arthur saw that his three sons had entered the parlor. Llacheu made it a point to be by the window, while the younger Gwydre slumped into the chair next to Arthur and Duran merrily sat next to him.

"Gwy, fancy a drink?" Merlin offered.

Gwydre grabbed the tankard and downed its contents without a breath. Once done, he slammed it on the table.

"Need another?" Arthur asked.

"Father, she is in agony. She screamed as if she's being tortured." Gwydre lamented, and motioned for more ale.

"He snuck into the birthing and saw a bit," Duran explained, "Mother had to throw him out, but it was enough to get him like this."

"Why?" Merlin asked, refilling Gwydre's cup.

"He wanted to know how Morfydd was and was not satisfied with what the midwife, the nurses, or Mother was reporting to him." Llacheu responded calmly.

Gwydre ran his hands through his flaxen head. "There was blood everywhere! And the screaming..."

"She's pushing out your offspring through a very tiny opening. As natural as it is, I don't suspect child labor is kind to any female," Llacheu said.

"I wonder how you will be once Argante is whelped!"

Arthur stepped in, "I am sure Morfydd is doing well. She is in good hands. There is very little you can do and you can't stop it. Just let it happen."

"Your father has a point," Merlin added," This is a good day! Drink, for your sons' coming into the world!"

Gwydre pushed away his drink, "I'll do that when I get the news that Morfydd and the twins are fine."

Duran then looked at the discarded tankard, "Father, could I?"

Arthur was a year younger than his youngest boy when he started, so he nodded his permission and Duran sipped the ale. He coughed at the strong taste and grimaced as he swallowed and coughed more.

"You'll get use to it, being an uncle and all." Merlin reassured.

"What does that mean?"

Merlin did not answer Duran, only started singing about barmaids.

"Aprons and all…"

"For god's sakes, you're a grown man," Arthur scolded the sorcerer.

"So I'm allowed to drink without a telling off," Merlin argued.

"You are never old enough to be reprimanded by your king. Now give me that, you are cut off."

Time passed, hours until the dawn peeked out. Guinevere came before her family, looking bedraggled and joyful.

"Gwydre, you have two healthy boys, just as Morfydd said. She wants to see you now."

At the announcement, Gwydre jumped out of his seat and ran, possibly all the way to the birthing room to his wife.

Arthur welcome the embrace Gwen gave him.

"We have grandsons Arthur," Gwen rejoiced, "Morfydd is tired but very happy and very relieved. Oh and the little ones, they are beautiful."

"Yeah! We're uncles Jack!" Duran called to his brother.

Llacheu smiled at his youngest sibling, "I heard."

Gwen frown upon seeing the tipsy youth and the tankard in his hand, "Duran, have you been drinking?"

"Yeah," Duran said honestly, "Merlin said it was for celebrating and Father said I could."

Gwen glowered at her husband.

"I was not much older than he was when I gotten some ale. And neither were you," Arthur defended, "Elyan had told me about your antics at harvest festivals."

"Very well," Gwen backed down, "We will discuss this later, but for now, Duran hand me the ale. It's been a long day."

Merlin, who was now face down at the tabletop, threw an arm over and slid down a jug.

"Thank you," Gwen poured herself a cup.

Arthur stared at him. "I took all the ale, where did you get that?"

"I'm magic Arthur. I can conjure up a jug of ale if I want."

"Where is Vivienne?" Arthur turned to Gwen, "Maybe she can knock some sense into her idiot father."

"I'm here." Vivienne called, wiping her hand on her blood splattered apron, "What's Father done now?"

"Got sloshed."

"Only that?" The young woman took away the jug from her father.

"Love, how are the new parents?" Gwen inquired.

"Morfydd is still tried, and Gwydre is at her side, the very portrait of a new father."

"Terrified?" Arthur presumed.

"Overwhelmed and needing a drink?" Merlin added.

Vivienne quirked an eyebrow, "He is very happy and excited. He's all over the twins and Morfydd."

"So better outcome then when he was there earlier?" Jack walked away from his window.

Vivienne nodded as she poured herself some ale. When Merlin tried to take the jug back, she slapped his hand away.

Moments later, Gwydre came back looking absolutely frazzled and idyllic. He headed straight to the nearest full tankard, and ignoring Duran's complaint of his stealing his ale, took a swig. Once done, he looked to the whole room, "If you want, you all may meet the twins now."

He then turned and left.

Jack turned to his slightly intoxicated sibling, "Duran lets go meet our nephews."

"Right," Duran left his chair and joined Llachue, "Can we do this again when you and Argante have a child?"

"Drinking? Maybe, if you are of age."

Arthur and Gwen got up the, arm in arm and followed their sons.

Merlin stayed behind, no longer able to lift up his head and his daughter patted his back.

"Really Father, are you going to be like this when Lanval and I have our child?"

Merlin was not sure what she meant, at least he did not think so. It sounded like it had to do with his only daughter, her husband, and if she was suggesting what he thought she's implicating, then…


"I should probably tell you now then."

Merlin did not faint or fall at the news. He can say that at least.