Chapter Text
Edward Bonnet swims nervously around the birthing cove again, dark tail thrashing back and forth helplessly as he waits for the birth of his child. His child , praise be to the gods, above and below. It’s been years since he and Sarah have been blessed with a child, so long they both thought there would be no more for them. And now, at long last, another.
He hates feeling helpless like this, hates knowing there’s nothing he can really do to help except wait. It makes the webbing between his fingers itch and his sharp teeth ache, like they want to be doing something , too.
"Any word?” Elder Elias asks. Edward startles, his claws descending and gills flapping out in alarm. He must truly have been lost in his head for a clan Elder to sneak up on him like this. The other man knows it, too, judging by the smirk he’s failing to hide, sharp teeth peeking out from behind his lips.
“Not yet,” Edward tells him. “Soon, though, I should think.”
Elder Elias hums and nods his head. “She’ll be all right,” he says after a moment. “I know it’s been a while for you two, but Sarah’s strong. She’ll be fine.”
Edward swallows heavily. Gods above and below, he hopes the man is right. Merfolk birth is usually pretty straightforward, but every once in a while…
“Edward!” he hears as one of the midwives — Hannah, he thinks she’s called — swims up to him. “Come quick!”
He exchanges a worried glance with Elder Elias and takes off after the midwife, leaving Elias to call out a “Gods’ speed!” behind him as he swims. Before he even reaches the birthing cove he can see a faint golden glow coming from the entrance. What in the Seas? That’s never happened before.
“Edward, look!” his wife cries as Edward swims over to her, placing a kiss on her forehead as he looks down at the child cradled in Sarah’s arms. The merfolk he finds there is small, smaller than any of his other children were at their birth. He frowns, hoping the child isn’t sickly; the sea is a cruel, hard place. Sickly merfolk don’t last long.
His wife shifts the child slightly, the kelp swaddling sliding away so Edward can see its tiny body. He gasps. It’s a boy, he can tell now, with wisps of hair like sunlight. In place of a tail there are eight thin, golden tentacles. His son’s body is glowing faintly, and when he opens his eyes to peer up at Edward, his eyes glow golden, too.
“Sarah,” Edward whispers, reaching out carefully to caress his son. His wonder of a son.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Sarah whispers back as she gazes adoringly at the boy in her arms.
“World Ender,” another midwife whispers in awe, and Edward’s heart soars. Because it’s true. His son, his glorious golden son. The World Ender.
Finally!
There hasn’t been a World Ender in three generations, and without their protector the clans have started fighting amongst themselves, eager to gain power and territory at the cost of their very survival.
But now. Now…
“We should name him after your father,” his beautiful, clever Sarah says. Edward can hear murmuring outside the birthing cove as word spreads and merfolk start to gather to see their miracle child for themselves, but he pays them no mind. He only has eyes for his son.
“Welcome to the Sea, little Stede,” he says as one golden tentacle reaches out to wrap itself around his finger. “Long may you roam.”