11. Stay
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
Summary: An unexpected love story, years into the Golden Age.
Once upon a time, when magic was still banned in Camelot and the northern kingdoms existed mostly in confused rumors, Sir Percival and some of his fellow knights had met a young Northumbrian peasant girl named Hazel in the Lower Town. At the time, Percival had noted that she was reasonably pretty, very bold, and a bit brazen. She wasn't tall, but had looked right into the knights' eyes when she spoke to them with a gravely voice. They had briefly discussed the weather, roads, and the general state of the kingdom. Then the knights had returned to their business and Hazel had gone on her merry way.
The next time Percival and the others had seen "Hazel", she was riding into battle wielding two axes and screaming at the top of her lungs.
Since then, magic had been allowed back in Camelot. All the kingdoms of Albion, even the far northern ones, were bound together by treaties and peace. Sir Percival had continued to serve Arthur Pendragon through all the changes, had gained a wife and child, then lost the woman he loved to an illness even magic could not cure. Today, nearly two decades since the battle in which Morgana had been defeated, Percival remained one of the realm's most revered knights, living to serve his king, to protect the kingdom, and to take care of his eleven-year-old son.
Princess Haralda Barclayn, like Percival himself, was a quite a bit older now, her brown curls threaded with gray and her features both hardened and softened by the intervening years. Leaning on a castle balustrade, she glared down at the three young people chattering and laughing on a strip of grass down below.
"Your Highness," Percival said as he approached her. "When did you arrive in Camelot?"
She turned to him. "Look at them! Two weeks I'm stuck with their creepy stares, and you'd think that was enough. But no, Elen says, you have to keep an eye on them in Camelot. Don't let them wander off commune with horses or something else bizarre...Never mind that they're fifteen and more than capable of taking care of themselves..."
Down below, the black-haired boy Percival recognized as thirteen-year-old Caldwell Barclayn magically summoned some shiny insect and sent it buzzing around the heads of two older teenagers. The boy laughed and ducked as the girl batted the bug away from her long, ashy blonde hair. "You're babysitting?"
"Yeah." Haralda snorted. "Henry and Heather Wyverndomitor. Elen's children. They wanted to visit their cousin, and I got stuck escorting them down here."
Percival joined her at the balustrade. "They look safe enough."
"Tell that to their mother." She groaned and dragged her fingers through her hair. "They're my family and I care about them, but they...they stare! And I'm tired of watching them!"
"Then don't." Percival gave her a tiny smile. "Would you rather practice spear-throwing? That's what I'm on my way to do."
Haralda looked up at him with clear relief in her eyes. "You wouldn't mind me joining you?"
"Not at all."
The princess cast one last look at the young people below, sighed, and looked back at Percival. "Lead the way, Tall-Man."
"Good throw, Your Highness."
"It's Haralda. Or I'm calling you Sir Giant."
Percival discovered that Haralda had a point about Henry and Heather's "creepy" stares. Over the next couple weeks of their stay in Camelot, more than few people were the target of the twins' wide gray eyes. The siblings were never far from each other, kept their eyes on the same things, and seemed to look at everything with either curiosity or exasperation. Most of the latter type were leveled at their cousin Caldwell, but Percival was the target of a few of the former kind.
"They grew up isolated," Haralda told him. "Hayden and Elen live in an anthill of a house on a wyvern farm, and except for Gwaine's visits with Caldwell and one of Everard's half-dozen children..."
"They're more polite than you," Percival said.
"Most people are more polite than me."
"You're not bad with a crossbow."
"It was my older brother's favorite weapon...He'd laugh if he could hear me, but I miss him."
"...I lost my brother, too, along with the rest of my family. Many years ago. It...It still hurts." Among other losses.
"I don't think it's ever supposed to stop hurting."
Percival arrived at the training field later than he'd promised. "Elyan, have you seen Edan?"
"Yeah, he started training with Haralda Barclayn when you were late," the dark-skinned knight replied. "I've been keeping an eye on them...but she hasn't started throwing axes at him, so..."
Percival hurried to find them and found Haralda demonstrating the proper grip to use when throwing an axe. "It's not that complicated, see..."
"I was planning on working with him on sword drills, Your Highness," Percival said.
Edan smiled at him brightly. "Hello, Father! Haralda can throw an axe like no one I've ever seen!"
"He's got potential with axes, Sir Giant." Haralda grinned. "Swords are boring."
"Your cousin doesn't think so, if I recall."
"That's because he's Gwaine. Uncle Goddard drilled the so-called superiority of swordsmanship into his head before he was Edan's age. Still, if you must..." She slid her axe into her belt and waved her hand dismissively. "Go teach him how to wave an un-throwable weapon around."
"You can stay! Right, Father?"
Percival looked down at his son, smiled, and looked over at Haralda. "Care to stick around, Princess? Or do you need to watch the twins?"
Haralda snorted and stayed to train with them.
"You were a farmer before you were a knight, weren't you?"
"Yes. It was a simpler life."
"I don't doubt it." Pause. "You're really tall."
"You think I never noticed?"
"No, I'm just saying." Another pause. "I find tall people attractive."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
A boisterous feast was held for some anniversary or other, and Percival found a seat next to Haralda. "You're the only woman here not wearing a dress," he observed.
"That's because I didn't bring one with me. Doesn't mean I don't wear them."
"I see." Percival eyed her. "You're going back to Bernicia soon?"
"Elen's getting antsy about her children. So yeah."
"Edan will miss you at training."
"And you?"
He only answered with a look.
"You're up late, Tall-Man."
"Edlan couldn't sleep. We went for a walk on the battlements. It helps him."
"His difficulties sleeping. Is that...Is it because of his mother?"
"She died four years ago. It was hard for him." And for me.
The next time Edlan had a breakdown, it was while he was training with several other future knights. Sir Kay took Percival's place on the afternoon patrol last-minute and the tall knight rushed to find his son.
He found him in the armory, and Haralda was there.
"Listen, kid, I'm not good with sweet-talking, but...I know what it feels like to lose a parent. Two, actually. It feels like hell, and it's going to keep feeling like that, even if your memories get fuzzy as time goes by. Thing is, you have to learn when to let yourself be broken up about it. You let it control you always, and you've lost a war you didn't know you were fighting."
She saw Percival approaching and stood up; she'd been kneeling in front of Edlan. "Your father's here. I'll see you later."
As she brushed past Percival, he murmured, "Thank you."
"Growing older is exhausting."
"Can't argue with that."
"It can be...almost lonely, too. Sometimes."
You're not wrong.
A week later, word spread that Henry and Heather Wyverndomitor were preparing to head home within the next couple days. A few hours after hearing the news, Percival sought out Haralda.
"I'm sure Arthur wouldn't mind providing a couple guards for the twins on their return journey."
"What for? They have me."
"Not if you stayed here, in Camelot."
The princess didn't respond, and Percival said, "Would you stay if I asked you to?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not...her, Percival."
"I know, Haralda."
"I've never...done this."
"That's okay. That's you."
"You should think of Edlan. I'm not his mother. I can't be."
"Neither he nor I expect that."
"So...you're saying..."
"I'd like you to stay."
She did.