Merlin held Freya tightly in his arms, Dr Gaius offered a small bottle of tonic. "Give this to her before she sleeps at night. It will ease the pain," he said. "Her ears troubling her."

Arthur had suspected as much, but if the physician's reassurances brought Merlin comfort, so much the better. He was grateful that the little girl would not endure another night like the last one. Arthur did a yawn, hoping to get some rest before tonight.

But first he needed to make further progress on the identity of his attacker. The only link between himself, his Uncle Agravaine and Will Emrys was the tattoo.

When Arthur entered the library, he rummaged through his desk for paper to make a list, when he saw Tristan hiding behind the curtains.

"You can come out. I can see you hiding there."

Tristan peered out from behind the curtains. Arthur saw the boy holding a book. When Arthur drew nearer, Tristan tried to hide it behind his back.

"What are you reading?"

"N-Nothing."

"May I have a look?" Arthur stretched out his hand, but Tristan shook his head.

"It's mine."

Arthur sat down beside the boy, crossing his legs. "Is it a good story?"

"It has nice pictures."

Arthur changed the subject. "I could use your help in a casual matter, if you don't mind."

"I'm reading," Tristan said. "I haven't the time just now."

"Ah. Well, it's about the tattoo you said your father had."

Tristan's ears perked up in interest. He closed the book, as if trying to decide whether or not to give Arthur his attention.

"You see, I'd like to make a copy of the design to learn what it means. But it's on my neck, and I cannot see it properly. Would you hold a mirror for me?"

"I'm busy," Tristan argued.

Arthur was never one to turn away a challenge. If it meant using his wits to convince Tristan, so be it. He was counting on the boy's natural curiosity. First, Arthur rang for George and ordered two mirrors. Tristan had not moved, but was now studying his book again.

When George returned, he carried a covered tray, along with the mirrors. "My lord, your husband sent this." He set the tray upon the desk.

Arthur lifted the cover and found a plate neatly covered with slices of pound cake. Atop the cake rested luscious strawberry halves, drenched in sweet cream. He tasted the cake, savouring its sweetness. Arthur did know that Merlin enjoyed baking, and it had taken time to make this. It tasted all sweeter because of it.

Arthur offered some to Tristan, who used his bare finger to soak a piece of cake in cream. "Mmm…" Tristan sighed. With strawberry streaks upon his lips, he wiped his hands upon his trousers and returned to his book.

After he'd finished the cake, Arthur set the plate aside. He'd have to thank Merlin for it later, and that was something he anticipated with pleasure.

Arthur balanced one mirror against a stack of books on the side of his desk. Then loosened his tunic, placing the other mirror between his knees to see the design of the tattoo more clearly. "I wonder if this symbol has any meaning," he mused out loudly.

Tristan merely licked his finger and turned a page from his book.

"Of course, I'm certain your father never told you what it was. Such a thing would be quite a secret."

Tristan shifted in his seat, but said nothing. Arthur traced the design, dipping his pen into the inkwell. The swirling black symbols resembled in ancient language. His step-brother Gwaine thought it was druidical.

"Did your father ever travel to Avalon?" Arthur asked.

"Yes." Tristan turned his book over, "And I'm going to travel to Avalon someday."

"Why?"

"Our butler was from Avalon. Edwin was his name, he was a soldier. He used to tell me stories of battles between his people, the druids, and ours."

Arthur finished copying the tattoo and was surprised to see Tristan had set the book aside.

"When I'm older, I went to be a soldier, too." The earnest tone in the boy's voice and the solemnity of his posture gave Arthur pause.

Tristan came and stood beside Arthur. "You have that part wrong," he said. Arthur handed him the pen, and Tristan redrew the tattoo. "There."

"Thank you." Arthur said softly. But even with Tristan's correction, the design was nothing like anything he'd seen before. "Do you know this symbol?"

"I don't know what it means, but Father had one on his arm."

"When did he get it?"

Tristan lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "A year ago. When he went to Avalon with Edwin."

"Where is Edwin now?"

Tristan shrugged. "In the village, I think. Father made him leave when we had no money for servants."

It was worth investigating. The man might be able to shed light on the meaning of the symbol. Arthur set the design aside, intending to ask Merlin to accompany him to the village later.

"So you want to be a soldier, do you?" Tristan bobbed his head. "Then you'll have to learn how to ride a horse, won't you?"

A sudden shining dawned in Tristan's eyes. "We never-I mean, I never rode a horse before." He took Arthur's hand in his. "C-Can we go now?"

At the feeling of the small palm grasping his, a tightness rose up in Arthur's chest. He wanted to be a different man than his father had been. Though Tristan was not his flesh and blood, the boy was now his responsibility. He would be the one to teach Tristan how to sit on a horse, how to command the animal.

"Yes, we can go now."

With Tristan's hand tucked in his own, Arthur passed Merlin on the way, offering him a look of what-could-I-do? while Tristan babbled on. "Am I going to learn how to gallop and I'll go faster than anyone!"

His husband had a smudge of flour in his dark-brown hair, and never had any men or women looked more delectable. Arthur wanted to brush the flour aside, kissing Merlin senseless. "The cake was delicious." Arthur caught Merlin's hand and kissed the inside of his wrist.

"You said you likes strawberries. And I was in the mood to bake a cake, so…" Merlin shrugged, as though it were nothing. But Merlin had tried to please Arthur, had created the dish with his own hands. He cared.

Deep blue eyes met Arthur's, and, on impulse, he caught Merlin by the nape and kissed him. His lips parted in surprise, but Merlin kissed him back. It was too short by half, but the softness of Merlin's touch, the scent of vanilla, inflamed Arthur.

"Uncle Arthur, come on." Tristan pulled him away, and at last he relented.

"Later," Merlin whispered, after they had both left.

Merlin wanted so badly to believe Arthur could be his helpmate and friend. But a part of him held back. For three months he'd been alone. It had been the worst time of his existence. Arthur had disappeared, and he hadn't known if he was dead or alive. Merlin had woken up in the middle of the night, wondering if he'd only imagined the marriage. And when Arthur returned, he hadn't remembered him at all. Would Arthur ever learn to love him? And if not, was it enough?