0x05 - If I Stay (Part 1)
"Are you sure you don't want me to go get a physician?" Balinor asked, peering into her pale face in concern. "You've had this flu for nearly a month now."
Hunith wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her dress, ignoring the now familiar acrid after-taste of bile burning on the back of her tongue and throat. She sat down weakly at their table, shutting her eyes briefly so the world didn't lurch and turn in a way that only further upset her stomach. She said tersely, unsure of the wisdom of having her mouth open, "The nearest town with a physician is nearly a two days walk away, and there probably won't be anything he can do for me that I can't do for myself. The herbs I have to combat nausea are from my last batch of autumn picking, they're losing their potency. I'll go pick fresh ones tomorrow."
Balinor's face was still creased in concern, and she knew this was not the last she'd hear of finding help for her. In addition to having difficulty keeping the food down, Hunith was finding it difficult to force herself to eat it in the first place. Everything tasted like it had gone off, even though Balinor assured her it tasted fine to him. It wasn't only her stomach that was a mess; little things that usually she'd shrug off sent her into sudden foul moods which baffled herself more than anyone. Yet even knowing there was no reason to blackly curse Old Ann for barging in with poor excuses to snoop (well, maybe a little, but Hunith had been dealing good-naturedly with the insistent raps at her door for years), these days she seemed unable to summon the cheer she usually had for, well, everyone.
With symptoms like these, the woman raised by two physicians suspected a more likely cause for the upset in her body than a mysterious prolonged illness that only infected her out of their entire village. However, she held off voicing her diagnosis. The skimming down of food in winter meant often her cycle came late, or skipped a month if the year had been truly bad, so even that was not definitive proof. As she was vomiting up half of what she ate these days, she couldn't tell for sure cause from effect - whether the missed cycles caused the "illness" or whether the illness caused the missed cycles.
In the face of getting what she had longed for since she was a little girl singing lullabies to a straw doll, Hunith was giddy with both excitement and fear. She couldn't bear to be wrong, to raise her hopes for nothing. To admit her suspicions out loud would be like exposing them for the world to pick apart. What if it all turned out to be nothing more than her thinking what she wanted to think? Better to wait until there was no other possible explanation for her symptoms.
He placed his hand on her forehead, checking for the nth time for a non-existent fever. "Are you sure you're well enough to make the trip to the woods?"
She batted away his hand in exasperation, barely suppressing her welling unreasonable irritation. She started counting to 20, a rule she'd self-initiated after her fluctuating moods culminated in Catrin's six-year-old in tears and Hunith herself sobbing apologies as once again her inconstant emotions flipped on their head from snappishness into deep wallowing guilt. Only after she reached 20 did she say, "Yes, I'm sure."
He looked as though he was about to offer more protests, but a strange rattling noise approached, distracting them both. Hunith rose and followed Balinor to the doorway, peering into the street to see what was making the noise.
A horse-drawn wagon squeezed into the narrow dirt streets of Ealdor, barely avoiding clipping the corner of Catrin's cottage as it passed. In the front sat a fat, balding man dressed in black leather that surely warmed him better than all of Hunith's shawls combined could manage. His wagon wasn't like anything she had seen before, though admittedly her knowledge of modes of transportation other than walking was both second-hand and scarce. A heavy brown cloth lay over it like a shroud, revealing only the tall cube shape beneath.
The man stopped his strange wagon into the center of the village, pulling away the heavy curtain to reveal the frame. It was composed entirely of rough iron lattice work that formed a heavy grid pattern which made it look oddly like a giant cage. Dispelling such a grim notion was a rainbow of trinkets hanging off every bar, everything from pans to women's ornaments to children's toys.
Hunith stepped forwards to get a better look, and from the corner of her eyes she could see others doing the same all down the street. Children darted out from behind their mother's skirts, ducking around the slow moving adults as they raced over to examine the most brightly coloured section of the metal carriage. The man smiled indulgently at them, and then turned to address the adults gathering around his carriage.
"Good day, my friends," he said genially, "Do you lovely folks have any use for a humble peddler such as myself?"
Mathew, the unanimous spokesperson of the village when dealing with outsiders, stepped forwards, "I'm afraid we don't have much to trade with at this time of year, but you're welcome to stay. I'm Mathew, and you are...?"
"Halig," the man said, holding out his hand. They shook, and then he drew back and started showing his wares to the various villagers. Hunith edged towards the brightly coloured children's toys, standing to the back of the children jostling and pushing each other to get a better look. Hunith glanced back over her shoulder at Balinor, who was slipping back into their home. She could see him reaching for his thinnest carving knife and pulling something small out of his pocket, but couldn't see what. Irritation flickered through her.
For the past couple weeks he had been working on some project, but was steadfast in his refusal to show it to her. Instead he worked on it whenever she was otherwise occupied, slipping it into his pocket the moment she walked into the room. Trying to sneak up on him to see it only had him hiding it behind his back, and she wasn't sure what he did with it at night, but she could never find any half carved blocks of wood hidden away. It hurt more than she cared to admit that he was hiding something from her, especially since he usually spent the spare hours of the evenings huddled close to her for warmth, idling carving something and explaining what he was making to her as he did so. She couldn't imagine why he suddenly wanted to shut her out of one of the activities that he loved.
Hunith started counting to 20 even though she had nothing to say to anyone, and determinedly distracted herself from unwanted thoughts by refocusing on the rack of children's toys in front of her. She didn't have much money - certainly not enough to buy toys with - but she could get some ideas of what types of things children liked and make it herself. Any of the wooden toys would be easy enough for Balinor to make - if he ever got over his sudden inexplicable shyness of anyone seeing him work, that is.
Her friends one by one meandered over from the women's section to join her to the back of the children's, half-heartedly scolding their overexcited little ones and cautioning them to be mindful not to break anything. Herleva, holding little one-and-a-half-year-old Will, stood beside Hunith eyeing the toys speculatively from a distance.
"He's too young for them now," she said by way of explanation, "but it would be nice to have something for him to play with in a few years time."
Little cloth dolls in crisp dresses would be good for a girl, Hunith thought absentmindedly picking out the one with the prettiest eyes. Or the set of painted skittles, to play with an older child with, good for a girl or boy. The ribbon twirlers would be good even for an infant, she thought picturing herself twirling the green and yellow stripped one above a little baby with little chubby fingers and a little chubby face, who laughed and reached out towards her. The image brought a smile to her face, and she suggested the ribbons to Herleva, who went to inspect a orange and blue one, calling over Halig to ask for its price.
She didn't spend all afternoon admiring the children's toys, though they hung in her mind even as her hands went through the motions of her daily chores. Although there were no fields to tend in the winter, there were still eggs to collect and dinners to prepare and cloths to spin. This year she didn't have to chop firewood, as Balinor had volunteered to, becoming quite insistent about it in light of her taking ill. She was grateful, she doubted she could swing an axe around without sinking to her knees. Hunith was staying in their home more and more recently, and while it suited her fine to escape the cold winter air she was becoming most tired of the sight of the same walls, day after day after day. She was looking forwards to her trip to the woods.
After supper, which was much earlier in the winter than in the summer, with the days being shorter, she wandered out to see the wagon again, this time first browsing through the head-scarves and little clothing trinkets for women before she stepped over to the children's side, as though drawn there by an inescapable force. There were only a few people browsing around still, and she was able to look more closely at each item.
Halig approached her with a wide smile on his face, "Hello, miss, they tell me you're Hunith."
Hunith blinked, startled that anyone would be talking about her to him. Though her words and smile were kind enough, and his slight portliness wasn't anything fearsome, something about him made her feel uncomfortable. Putting back the green and yellow ribbon like a child caught in a misstep, she said, "Yes, I am... Who were you asking?"
"Oh, it was just Ann, she was telling me you lived next-door," he said with a shrug. "She offered to let me stay the night at her place. Very generous of her."
"Yes," Hunith said, biting her lip to keep from laughing. After weeks of steadily getting more and more annoyed at her nosy neighbour, it was nice to once again see the humour in her badly disguised "kindess" now that for once it was being focused on someone else.
The poor man had no idea what he was in for. When she was through pumping him for every scrap of information from the wider world, Old Ann would regale him with every minute piece of village gossip from the last half of the century. The thought of him being maneuvered into what Hunith dubbed the Interrogator's Chair - a creaky wooden thing with a threadbare cushion that Old Ann insisted her guests sit in while she fetched something to feed them, thereby using politeness to trap them at her mercy - and his extra folds of fat sinking over the edge of the frame that was built for half-starving peasants was so comical that Hunith forget the weird feeling he'd given her. "How kind of her."
"You know," he said causally, "I was wondering why a pretty young lass like you wasn't more interested in my necklaces, but the mystery is solved: I see you already have one. It's a lovely carving. Who did you buy it from?"
She glanced down at the wooden figure that she hung around her neck every day since Balinor had given it to her. Warmth filled her chest at the memory, seeping into her tone as she said, "No one, Keith made it for me."
"Oh, really? He's very good, it looks like it was done by a professional wood-carver." He picked at the thread, holding it away from her and running a finger down the dragon's spine. "What an interesting motif. Does he have an in interest in dragons, then?"
Hunith stiffened, her heart skipping a beat before she forced herself to breath again. It was a sensible question given the necklace, she told herself, he didn't mean anything by it. Nonetheless, she felt unnerved and oddly vulnerable as Halig looked directly into her face, his eyes holding an intelligence that was too perceptive for her comfort. Forcing a calm she didn't feel into the words, she said measuredly, "I wouldn't say that. I'm sure he just liked the design."
"It is very unique," he said, still running his fingers along it and not taking his gaze away from her face. Hunith had to quell the irrational urge to yell at him to stop it, to just let go of her necklace already. "Not really what I would pick to make for a woman. Flowers, or maybe a small woodland animal, but definitely not a man-eating monster. Though things might be different where he was from; Ann did tell me he wasn't from here originally. He only came to live with you... last year, around mid-summer, wasn't it?
"Yes," her mouth had gone oddly dry and she had trouble swallowing. "Yes, that's right."
Halig smiled at her, nodding slightly. He let go of her necklace, letting it fall back against her chest. "I see. Well, I won't hold you up any longer. Please, take your time looking and let me know if you need anything."
He turned away to chat to another villager looking at his wares, but Hunith clutched her winter shawls tightly about her, and turned on her heel hurrying back into her cottage. She wondered why she could feel her chest tightening up and tears burning against the back of her eyes when there was no good reason for them - this reaction was extreme even given her recent turbulent moods. Somehow, she thought as she dabbed in frustrated incomprehension at her leaking eyes with the sleeve of her dress while she fended off Balinor's anxious inquiries with her other hand, it felt as though something had just happened, but she had no idea what.
As she sniffed and counted to 20, then to 20 again, and then again, she firmly told herself that she was just letting the poor way she was in get to her, convincing herself a molehill was a mountain. She told herself that until she could draw in shaky breaths without tearing up again, and give an extremely baffled and worried Balinor a shaky smile, trying to brush off the uncharacteristic emotional display like it never happened.
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The next day Hunith was more than happy to go collecting herbs, because not only did it get her out of the cottage but it also took her away from Ealdor, where Halig was still selling his goods in the center of town. The winter air tossed the strands of her hair that escaped from her head-scarf into her face and blew right through all the layers of shawls she'd wrapped around herself. Her legs felt weak from walking, which was ridiculous considering she only left the village around an hour ago.
Very few of the herbs she could use grew in the winter, so in the fall before the first frost she always stocked up on as much as she could. But when the chill came in the air and the food ran short disease descended on the villagers like locust and seldom was the year when her stores lasted through to spring. Still this year had been mild, so Hunith was pleased when after searching through many damp, shady places she found a growth of mint which was not as lush as it would be in summer, but still mostly green. Bending down, careful not to get her dress soaked in the wet grass, she started picking.
From behind her came rustling in the foliage, but Hunith paid it no mind, thinking it most likely a deer or fox. There hadn't been a wolf pack in this area for years, and the bear population had seen a dramatic decrease as well due to all of Cenred's hunting parties. So she jumped like a startled rabbit, upsetting her basket of herbs and losing her balance when she heard a feminine voice from behind her say,
"I have found you."
Hunith pushed herself up where she'd fallen, brushing damp clumps of grass from her dress, as she warily turned her head to see who had spoken. Her eyes went wide in surprise, for before her was an incredibly gorgeous woman who was perhaps five years older than Hunith herself. Her alabaster skin looked as though it had never been touched by the sun, and judging by the silky billow of her well-cut and fitted dress, her richly dyed thick cloak, and the fur stole gracing her shoulders, Hunith could well believe that it never had. Her windswept dark brown hair fell in luscious waves down her shoulders, unhindered by the practical headwear that Hunith and other peasant women wore. Its framed her exquisite face perfectly, highlighting her gossamer green eyes strikingly with its contrasting darkness.
Hunith felt a bit like a fish out of water, bug-eyed and open mouthed gasping. This was clearly a noblewoman. In the middle of the woods. In the middle of the woods by Ealdor, which itself was out in the middle of nowhere. Hunith glanced around for a lady's horse, maybe a contingent of knights, or something to show she was just passing through here on the way to somewhere else. There was nothing; it looked as though she had walked here on foot, even though the nearest nobles lived a three hours walk away and she knew for a fact it was just the old lord and his son, no lady of the manor.
The noblewoman stood in front of her, awaiting some kind of response from the peasant on the ground in front of her. However all Hunith could think was this isn't happening, this just doesn't happen. Licking her lips Hunith stood stiffly and curtsied, wobbling in the unfamiliar movement. "My lady," she said, because what else could she say?
"My name is Vivienne, Lady of Tintagel," the noblewoman said formally, "I have been looking for you, Balinor's woman."
The air fled Hunith's lungs and she had to fight to keep her focus. "I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else, ma'am, I - I mean milady. I... I don't know anybody by that name!"
"No," the woman - Lady Vivienne, she said she was called - said, as though it was a fact as undeniable as the bite of the winter wind stinging their faces. "I recognize you, I saw your face in my dream last night. Don't be afraid, I'm not here to bring you harm, but rather a warning from my husband."
"A warning?" Hunith questioned faintly. She didn't know Lady Vivienne, she didn't know any lords, and Balinor had never been on great terms with any nobility either, even before the king of Camelot betrayed him. Why would this stranger travel to Ealdor just to warn her about something?
"Yes," the strange beauty said simply, then for the first time seemed to really see Hunith's ashen countenance. A flicker of something more human than the distant cold grace she held entered her expression. "You may want to sit down, I fear my tidings are ill. I have been following Halig since November and I know he has entered your village. You must be wary, for he is no peddler, that is only a mask for him to hide behind so he may have easy access to any community he wishes. In truth, he is a bounty hunter, sent specifically by the king of Camelot to capture the last dragonlord, Balinor."
A moment of silence echoed through the woods. Nothing stirred, as if all nature had frozen at the grim pronouncement.
"You were right, I think I do need to sit down," Hunith said faintly, sinking to the ground on her weak legs. Nausea, the ever present demon within her these days, clawed at her throat, and Hunith hastily bent over, hands flying to brush the stray locks of her hair out of her face as she upheaved her meager breakfast. Pottage, she thought dully, cheeks burning in humiliation to be doing this in front of her noble visitor, the only good thing you can say about it is at least it comes back up without a fuss. Lady Vivienne jumped back, yanking her skirts away. After a moment, she cautiously made her way around the puddle of puke, rubbing Hunith's back tentatively as she dry heaved.
When at last she felt she could open her mouth without spilling the currently non-existent contents of her stomach, Hunith muttered a mortified, "Thanks."
Lady Vivienne withdrew her hands, but didn't move from her awkward crouch behind Hunith, "No, it is quite all right... are you feeling unwell? I could send for the physician of my manor."
"No, no there's no need," Hunith's cheeks were flaming, "I don't think... I don't think it's something to be cured, if you understand what I mean."
"Ah," the lady drew in a knowing breath. "I see. Congratulations."
Hunith made an aborted laugh, out of nowhere struck by hilarity that she had finally admitted to what was truly behind her "illness" here and now to a stranger, with all that the lady had just said and gods what was wrong with her, how could she laugh in a situation like this and why couldn't she just keep a rein on her emotions for longer than five minutes, five minutes was that truly too much to ask for!
1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...
She gave up counting before she reached the double digits, turning to face the lady desperately. "Are you sure? About Halig, are you sure? It couldn't... couldn't be a mistake, or... or a mix-up or..."
Lady Vivienne took Hunith by the elbow, gently manoeuvring her to her feet and away from the puddle of sick. "My husband was present when the king sent for him, there is no mistake. I am sorry."
Hunith shook her head. "No. Don't be. Without you..." she couldn't put it into words. She'd have gone home happy that she'd found her mint and avoided Halig because he made her feel uncomfortable, but she would have been completely unprepared for him to make his move, helpless as a deer being stalked by the hunter. A shudder went through her as she remember his wagon with its square iron latticing. A cage, it was a cage and how stupid she was because when she had first seen it she had even thought that, but brushed it off because who would hang trinkets on a cage and tell the villagers he was a peddler when he was really going kidnap one of them and then drive the man, caged like a beast, to his death all for mere gold...
Hunith took a deep breath, counting again. "Thank you. I just... thank you."
The lady said in a heavy voice, "We - my husband and I - could not do nothing. We too know what it is like to live in fear for the life of one we love. If it had been Morgause Uther sent Halig for..." for the first time the elegant lady's voice wavered, and she cleared throat, continuing, "I only did what I had to, there is no need for thanks."
Hunith looked at Vivienne, really looked at her for the first time beyond the expensive clothing and her beautiful features. There were dark circles under her eyes as though she hadn't slept well in months, and now that Hunith was not so awed by her beauty the pale cast to Vivienne's face worried her. Her skin was pinched and stress lines creased the folds of her face, marring that which was otherwise flawless. She was thin, for a noblewoman, looking more like the village women did during the winters of bad harvests than she did a woman waited on hand and foot so her cup never ran dry.
"Still, I'm grateful," Hunith said, trying to convey it all in her voice. Vivienne's face was of one with her own suffering, yet she had still rode out to warn Balinor of the danger lurking in their tiny village. "You're a true noblewoman, noble of heart as well as blood."
Vivienne blinked, apparently startled, and huffed a small sound of amusement through her nose. "Thank you, I suppose. Farewell, ..."
"Hunith," she supplied, realizing she had never introduced herself. A thought tickled her - how had Vivienne known she was connected to Balinor? She said she saw her face in a dream, but how was that possible when they'd never met?
"Farewell, Hunith," Vivienne said stately, prim noblewoman persona once again in place. "Our paths are not likely to cross again, but it has been a pleasure."
Hunith curtsied again, wobbling even more as she went deeper than just the perfunctory dip. "Farewell, my Lady."
Lady Vivienne wandered in the opposite direction of Ealdor, deeper into the forest and vanishing into its depth as though she was a had never been there in the first place. Hunith worried for her momentarily, then remembered that she had managed on her own just fine for months following Halig.
Hunith picked up her half-full basket of herbs and walked briskly back to Ealdor, heart hammering in her chest as she thought over everything she had said to Halig the day before, wishing she had for once forgotten to wear her dragon necklace. She snatched it off her neck and stuffed it in her pocket, even though it was too late to hide it from his notice. With rising horror, she remembered him saying he was staying with Old Ann. It no longer was amusing that she would have told him every piece of village gossip in the last couple decades.
She broke into a run, and prayed it would not be too late for Balinor when she arrived.
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She found him leaning against the wall of their cottage, carving something small while facing the woods. He slipped his mysterious project in his pocket at the sight of her and pushed himself off the wall, greeting her with a smile. His smile faltered as she came near, uncertainty creeping in at something in her countenance. She grabbed his arm, glancing over both shoulders and making sure Halig was otherwise occupied with a potential customer at his cage, before dragging Balinor bodily into their home.
She shut the door and rushed to close the windows, bringing to mind the urgent secrecy of their first meeting. Unable to stand for much longer on her legs which felt as fragile as glass and as heavy as lead, she sunk into her chair. He approached her from the other side of their table, hand reaching out to her.
"Halig's a bounty hunter," she gushed out breathlessly, sides heaving from her rush home. He froze, hand stopping outstretched half-way to her face. "He's come for you! He's going to take you away - Balinor, what are we going to do? He'll drag you off to Camelot, to Uther!"
He didn't press her for how she knew or ask if she was sure, both of which she was expecting. He didn't say anything at all, just pulled his hand away from her. Abruptly, he strode across the room and snatched the satchel she used to transport remedies off its hook. Wordlessly he emptied it of its contents and began to cram his spare set of clothes in in their places.
It felt as though someone was stepping on her throat, crushing her windpipe.
"Balinor?"
"I can't stay here," he was frantic as he grabbed more things to pack, jerky in his movements. "They'll call you my accomplice. Uther burns anyone who harbours sorcerers and if the border didn't stop him then nothing else will. It's not safe for you, I need to go!"
Go. The word was like a kick to her stomach, which was turning nauseating somersaults on itself and she couldn't tell if it was from her or the baby. The baby. Oh gods he was serious, he was going to leave and she would be all alone with nothing but a cold spot on their mattress and an empty, silent little house while she struggled through each day all by herself. Back in the same lonely existence from before they'd met, only this time she wouldn't be whole. He'd rip out her heart and take it with him, only a shell of her remaining behind. That shell would still have their child, who would never know his or her father's unassuming nobility and the wordless little acts of kindness which showed his love. Would never feel a big calloused hand ruffling hair that would surely be dark like both of theirs, or hear the boom of his laughter, or eagerly beg a bedtime story from Dada. He'd be so good at bedtime stories.
Before she knew what she was doing, she's sent the nearest thing to her - which happened to be a jar of preserves - flying across the room. It shattered against the wall to his right, and she didn't know whether or not she'd intended it to hit him. Pickled vegetables rained down their wall, and she didn't care even though they were supposed to last them the winter. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare!"
She rose unsteadily on her protesting limbs, unable to tell whether she was shaking out of exhaustion or anger or fear. "Don't you dare walk out that door."
Balinor looked at the mess of preserve juice and glass, then at her completely dumbfounded. He stepped away from the sachet, coming towards her slowly with hands raised as though she were a wounded animal. He placed his large hands on her shoulders. "Hunith, calm yourself."
"Don't tell me to calm down!" She shrieked, slapping away his hands. "What did you expecting, telling me something like that?! That I would just sit here like a swooning princess and say, 'Oh I understand, I'll be waiting for the uncertain day you ever poke your head through this door again, supper will be waiting'? We are in a relationship and that means we are in this together, you inconsiderate dollophead, and I will not be push aside like I'm made out of glass!"
"It's not like that!" Balinor said forcefully, his voice cracking as he pleaded with her to understand. "You don't understand. Everyone I ever knew, everyone I loved were taken away from me. I wasn't even there! Not with my parents, not with my people... and the one time I was there I still couldn't save any of them. Please, I just want you to stay safe. You're all I have that's good in this world and I can't bear to lose you as well."
"And what makes you think I could bear to lose you? To stay here and pray that you're still safe but never know for sure if you're still alive or if they've caught you and I'm waiting on the faint hope that a man whose already dead will turn up again someday? THAT YOU'RE LYING DEAD IN THAT MAN'S COURTYARD WHILE I SIT AT HOME PINING!"
"Hunith, lower your voice. The neighbours will hear," he hissed, glancing between the door and windows as though expecting Old Ann to burst through any second.
"To hell with the neighbours!" She never spoke like this, even in her recent moodiness she had never actually yelled, but everything was churning away at her insides and bubbling up to try and force its way out. Including, to her horror, sobs bubbling in her throat. No, no not now, she couldn't break down now, she had to be sensible she had to make him see reason, to convince him that everything would be alright and he didn't have to leave. With difficulty, she lowered her voice and attempted to steady it. "Did you think I would just let you abandon me and the baby?"
"Baby?" Balinor's voice hitched, going high in a way that normally she'd find amusing but now only made her snap,
"Yes, you enormous clotpole, I'm PREGNANT!"
The word hung heavy in the air, the cat out of the bag at last. Hunith gave a choked noise, unsure if she was laughing or crying. This was not at all how she wanted to tell him. She hadn't worked out how she would break the news, but it would certainly not have been like this, with both of them anxious and desperate and arguing for the first time since they'd met. It should have been a happy occasion that left them both smiling and hugging with only bright thoughts about the future.
How had this happened? Why was everything so wrong?
All the fight drained out of her like a skin that had been holding so much it burst, splattering the liquid everywhere at once and retaining none, utterly spent. "I'm pregnant," she said again, her shoulders losing their tension. She met Balinor's conflicted eyes and softened her own, "You're going to be a father. You can't just walk from that, you just can't."
She couldn't tell what thoughts were behind his shocked, tortured face. He looked as though all his dreams had come true in front of him and then been snatched away. Guilt stabbed at her heart; it was unfair to dump this all on him at once. She wished she'd told him sooner. She hadn't bled for two moon cycles already, she should have told him her suspicions before now. But she had put it off, telling herself she'd do it when there was absolutely no doubt, and now they were both paying the price for her hesitance.
He ran a hand through his hair, looking so lost. "But don't you see?" His voice was broken, and he sounded just as desperate as she felt. "I'm like the harbinger of death to everyone close to me. Just by being here, I'm putting you and the - the baby in danger."
"You don't have to go," she begged, willing it to be true with all her heart. "We can find another way, it doesn't have to be like this."
He laughed humourlessly, "What other way? Do you see one, because I don't."
"We'll find it, together," she insisted, taking his hands and squeezing them. She didn't let go, doing so would feel like defeat. If he wanted to leave, he'd have to rip his hands out of hers. "If you just give us the chance to."
"And if we don't?" He looked torn - like he wanted to believe her, but couldn't bring himself to trust fate to hand them a miracle solution.
"Then I'll go with you." He looked like he was about to protest, but she didn't want to hear it. "And nothing you say can convince me otherwise. If it doesn't matter what you leaving would do to me, think of the baby."
The cruel fate of unacknowledged bastard children hung unsaid between them.
"What kind of life would we have, raising a child while running from Uther?" His said bitterly.
"We'd be together," she said sharply, "and that's what's most important. And it hasn't come to that yet; we'll think of how to deal with that if it comes to it, not before. For now, what we truly need to be thinking of is how to get rid of this bounty hunter."
"How are we supposed to do that?" He said defeatedly.
"I don't know," Hunith admitted, "but I've had no time to think it over. There must be a way, we just have to find it. But we never will if you give up now, without even trying."
Balinor flinched, then his shoulders slumped. He pulled his hands away from hers and her heart faltered before he wrapped her in his arms. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and she could feel his slight trembling. "I want to believe you so much."
"Then believe me," she said softly.
He pulled away, still holding her but now they were looking each other in the face. He said, "All right. I'll give it a try."
In spite of all that they still needed to overcome, just those words made her feel positively radiant.
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* WARNING: I caution you against getting too upset or excited that Balinor didn't take off. Season 0 is give-and-take, and I just gave, so later on I'm going to take. That's all I'm going to say about it at this point.
* This is Part 1 of a double-episode, so next time will carry on where this one ends, wrapping up everything with Halig.
* Poor Hunith, hormone induced mood swings are the worst. All this crud happening when the chemicals in her body are doing funky things already, no wonder she's so upset.
**/