Chapter Two: Sunshine
Weeks passed, and Percival slogged through each day, weighed down by grief. At least once each day, he'd imagine he saw the flick of Luned's stumpy tail in the distance, and sometimes, he thought he heard the gentle thump of her prancing around his chamber, but, obviously, it was never her. As to not alarm his friends, he ate supper in the Great Hall with them and made occasional trips to the tavern, but nothing lifted his spirits.
This is what a broken heart feels like, he mused, and he began to wonder if perhaps something was really wrong with him, as the pain of loss remained so acute and in the forefront of his every thought.
Two months went by, and for the first time in a long while, Luned was not the first thing that popped into Percival's mind when he woke. Guilt bit at his insides, and he apologized to her silently. I will never forget you, I promise.
That evening, while patrolling the Darkling Woods, Percival grew so distracted by his grief that he narrowly missed being shot in the chest by a bandit's arrow when out on patrol. If he had been paying attention, that close call would not have occurred. Right then, he decided he had to try harder to move on. Luned would have been devastated if he'd been injured, and this was not what she would have wanted, Percival moping and miserable.
Digging one's way out of a mountain of grief was not easy he learned, but it happened, bit by bit. Autumn passed, then Yule arrived, followed by an early spring. Luned had been gone for six months. It was hard to believe.
The equinox came, and the Alban Eiler celebration—featuring feasting and dancing around bonfires—took place. Percival and Gwaine had acted as guards that evening, and the festivities did not conclude until very late at night. It had been a long and tiring day, and by the time the last reveler had gone home, Percival was ready to strip off his chainmail and go to bed.
However, before Percival had the chance to lumber to his chamber in the castle, Gwaine approached, holding a wriggling white puppy dotted with black splotches the size of a man's palm, and one such spot covered her right eye. The animal looked like a mixture of hound and mastiff, with paws far too large for its body. It was sure to grow into a sizable dog, liked Luned.
His initial curiosity turned to distress, and Percival shrank back as if Gwaine carried a serpent. Percival did not want to so much as touch another dog. "What is that?" he asked.
"A puppy, obviously. I heard her whining in the woods, hiding in tall grass. There was blood nearby, so I assume her mother and the other puppies did not make it."
"That's unfortunate." Percival's spine stiffened, and his heart hardened. "I am sure the Master of the Game will take good care of her."
"I doubt he has time," said Gwaine, jiggling the weighty pup in his arms. "He's contending with two new litters of puppies right now. Why don't you take her?"
"You want me to take her?" Percival spat through clenched teeth. "How could you ask that of me after what I went through?"
Gwaine narrowed his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realize you died, too."
"How dare you!" It took every bit of Percival's restraint to not punch Gwaine in the face. How could Gwaine not understand that Percival's heart remained as hollow as a dead tree?
"I am sorry." Gwaine's eyes softened, and he bowed his head. "That was uncalled for. I'll take her until I find her a suitable home."
Gwaine walked away, but the puppy stared at Percival, whining, and pawing in Percival's direction.
XXXX
Well past the middle of the night, Percival woke to the sound of a puppy whimpering in the corridor, followed by Gwaine's voice muttering something Percival could not understand from behind the closed door. The whining and anxious muttering faded, and Percival squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fall back asleep, but it was no use. He could not allow his friend and an innocent puppy to struggle.
After heaving groan, Percival rose and dressed by candlelight. He stepped into the corridor as Gwaine walked closer, his face white, clutching the puppy.
"She's sick!" Gwaine announced. "I don't know what to do."
"What, exactly, is wrong?"
"I don't know. She started whining a little while ago and kicking her legs. Her midsection seems tender. It's probably a fatal growth or something..."
Percival had never seen Gwaine so undone, but Percival had an idea about what might be wrong. "Give her here."
Gently, Percival took the dog into his arms and rubbed her belly in slow, firm circles. She passed wind loud enough to wake the dead, then again. She gazed up at Percival, licked his chin, then promptly fell asleep in his arms.
Gwaine coughed and waved his hand in front of his face, trying to dispel the noxious odor of the young animal's flatulence. "That was it? Trapped wind?"
"That happens with puppies. She's eating different foods than when she was with her mother, and it probably upset her belly. She'll be fine."
"Thank you." Gwaine's eyes drooped with fatigue as he reached for the pup, and Percival frowned. His friend obviously needed some sleep.
"I'll mind her until morning. Go on and get some rest."
Gwaine clasped his hands together in front of his chest. "You are the finest friend in the realm."
He stumbled back to his chamber.
Meanwhile, Percival brought the dog into his room. He poured water from his ewer into a bowl and placed it on the ground. Then he set up a fluffy nest of blankets on the floor. He placed the animal on top of the soft surface, then crawled into his bed. The dog gave Percival that classic puppy-eyed stare.
"No, you cannot come onto my bed. You have a nice bed right there."
Eventually, she stopped staring, and they both fell asleep.
Before sunup, the pup began whining again, and Percival rolled out of bed, sat on the floor, and rubbed the dog's belly, as he had earlier. Once again, the dog broke wind, loudly, and she seemed to smile with relief.
"You are stinky."
The dog yipped with delight.
"And silly."
She danced on the blankets.
"Quite the ray of sunshine you are."
She snuggled up against him and licked his face.
"That would be a good name for you, Sunshine."
She did a little twirl, then tried to clamber up onto Percival's bed, but she was not quite tall enough.
"No." Percival pointed to her blanket nest as he settled back on his mattress. "Your bed is there. You cannot come up here."
She plopped down onto her rump and cocked her head to the side. "Why not?" her expression begged.
"I had a dog once," said Percival, wondering why he was offering this animal an explanation. "She was wonderful, and that means if I kept you, I'd always compare you to her, and that would not be fair. Gwaine will find you a home with children to play with, and you'll be happy there."
Her tail wagged. "No, I'd be happy with you!" she seemed to say.
"Absolutely not. I will not let you worm your way into my heart. I did that once already, and never again. Besides, you're perfectly cute, and families will line up to take you home."
Undeterred, she tried to scramble up onto his bed again. It was no use. Percival would get no sleep if he did not allow her onto the bed, just for a little while.
He picked her up and placed her at his feet. Slowly, she crept up his side and settled herself in the crook of his arm. They both slept.
XXXX
Percival and Gwaine had patrol duties the next morning, but Percival made sure to feed Sunshine (what else were they supposed to call her?), walk her, and give her a raw, sturdy goat shank to gnaw on while they were gone.
When he and Gwaine returned during the late afternoon, they found Sunshine had pulled all Percival's blankets off his bed and onto the floor. She had not torn them up, but clearly, she had been napping on them.
Thrilled to see her favorite people, Sunshine greeted Gwaine and Percival with frantic tail wags and a dead rat in her mouth, which she dropped proudly at their feet.
Gwaine stared at the offering. "Well, we know Sunshine has one talent. She can catch vermin."
Grimacing, Percival collected the deceased rodent and tossed it out his window. He did not like the notion that he'd been sharing his space with a rat, and he appreciated the fact that Sunshine had been so diligent about dispatching the pest. He returned to Sunshine and scratched under her chin.
"Good girl."
She seemed to beam with pride.
"I suppose I'll take her now." Gwaine scooped her up and walked to the door as Percival wracked his brains to think of an excuse to keep Sunshine around.
"She needs a long walk after being inside all day," said Percival. "She's frisky, and you'll need help managing her."
"Fine," Gwaine drawled. "Let's take her for a walk. Then we'll all need supper."
They took her for a walk through the Lower Town, and it was almost comical how terrible she was on a rope leash. She dashed to and fro, strained at the end of her tether, and wanted to greet every person who came within twenty paces. But she was adorable and friendly, and everyone she encountered loved her.
On the way back to the castle, Percival said, "She's in dire need of training."
"You're good at that sort of thing." Gwaine struggled to keep his grip on the leash as she pulled.
"I know what you're doing, Gwaine."
"What am I doing? She needs basic training if I am to find her a proper home. I am agreeing with you."
"Fine. I will train her for a few weeks, then we'll find her a new home."
"Oh, it's 'we' now?"
Percival elbowed Gwaine in the ribs. "Do not push it."
XXXX
After a solid month of training, Sunshine's behavior improved in many ways. She did well on her leash until she saw people, and then it was a mad dash to greet them. She did wonderfully with sit, stay, down, and leave it. Drop it was something she needed to work on, though. Impressively, she'd not had a single accident in Percival's chamber.
Yes, somehow, she'd begun living in Percival's bedchamber and not Gwaine's. Gwaine helped with Sunshine's training nightly, and he and Percival played evening games of fetch with her. Sunshine loved playing fetch and could do so for hours. Once, she fetched the wrong stick, returning with a tree branch that was three times the length of her body, and Percival could not stop laughing. He had not been that happy in a long time.
Midsummer loomed, and Sunshine continued growing. She was as large as Luned had been, but more robust around the middle. People joked about how she could be fitted for a saddle if she grew larger, but she was still a puppy at heart, cheerful and playful. She adored everyone, and everyone loved her in return, from babies to the elderly. It had been the same with Luned. Percival wondered how he had been lucky enough to have two wonderful dogs in his life.
One evening, Percival worked on Sunshine's off-leash skills out on the training field. She was doing so well with returning when called, and Percival could not have been prouder of her. She did not even run up to Gwaine when he approached.
"I have excellent news," said Gwaine. "I found a family for Sunshine."
Percival's heart sank. They had not spoken of finding a new home for Sunshine in months, and, secretly, Percival hoped that Gwaine had forgotten all about it.
"Well, erm, I want to meet this family. See if they're a good fit for her," said Percival.
"And if they're adequate, this is all right with you? Giving her up?"
Percival's fingers twitched. Of course it was not all right, and he planned to find something wrong with this family. And any other family who might want to take her.
Gwaine rolled his eyes. "There's no other family, you buffoon. I wanted you to finally admit Sunshine is yours."
"You can be a manipulative arse."
"But I'm charming, so there's that." Gwaine leaned down and patted the dog's head. "Let's celebrate with sausage. That's your girl's favorite."
Feeling light as a feather and joy infusing him, Percival returned to the castle with his two best friends.
But I still love you, Luned, thought Percival. For the first time since her death, that notion did not hurt him. Luned would never want Percival to be lonely and sad.
XXXX
Camelot crawled with visitors around Midsummer, as the kingdom's week-long celebration of the season was something to behold. There were performances, feasts, dances, fortune tellers, and the market exploded to ten times its regular size. People from far and wide—commoners, nobles, and royals alike—wanted to experience the wonder of it all.
Yet this meant the knights worked twice as long and hard as usual to secure the kingdom. Random drunken brawls increased, which was irritating, but the larger issue was ensuring Queen Guinevere's safety. Years ago, after King Arthur had died at Camlann, Sir Leon suggested the Midsummer festivities cease.
Guinevere disagreed. "If we lie in our beds and cower, then what are we fighting for?"
She had a point, and the Midsummer celebrations continued without pause.
To open the festivities, at sunset on the first night, the queen welcomed all comers to a feast on the castle grounds, where she made a brief speech. Resplendent in a rich red gown and wearing a delicate head chain as opposed to her crown, she stood upon a small platform before the excited crowd. Her eyes held a hint of sadness, as they had every day since King Arthur died. Percival wondered if he was the only one who noticed.
"Welcome, one and all, to our Midsummer festival. We have enjoyed a wonderfully prosperous year here in Camelot, thanks to the hard work and devotion of all our people."
The crowd cheered.
Queen Guinevere went on to praise the citizens, calling out several by name for their contributions to Camelot, when Sunshine, who stood beside Percival, stared at the queen and growled. Percival had positioned himself at the side of the crowd to keep order, and he could not fathom why Sunshine would behave so poorly. He'd never heard her growl before, not even in play.
"Sunshine, quiet," he whispered, but she did not heed him. She ran into the crowd and tore off toward the queen, growling and snapping, fury in her brown eyes.
Horrified, Percival gave chase, commanding Sunshine to stop. Blasting through the sea of people, she paid him no mind. Dear gods, Sunshine would be slaughtered in an instant if she bit the queen. Percival had not raised his dog to behave like this, and pure panic coursed through him as he elbowed people out of the way to reach Sunshine and stop her.
However, when Percival glanced up, he noticed one of the guards behind the queen had slipped a dagger out from under his sleeve and approached the queen from the rear. His helmet came off as he made jerky movements forward, and Percival gasped. It was an impostor, an assassin masquerading as a knight of Camelot, there to kill the queen. Percival would not reach him in time. No one would.
The moment Sunshine broke through the crowd, she took a running leap toward the platform, and the queen screamed. Sunshine flew through the air, sailing by the queen, and landed on the assassin, knocking him over. He lost his grip on his dagger as Sunshine sank her teeth into his thigh and would not let go. That gave the knights who stood nearby enough time to subdue the man, but Percival still had to pull Sunshine off the intruder.
"Sunshine, release! Release!"
She finally let go when she was convinced the man no longer posed a threat. She sat, looking from the queen to Percival. "I did a good job?" she seemed to ask.
Queen Guinevere stepped out of the protective circle her ladies had formed around her. "Sunshine, you saved me. You're a heroine, girl, and you will receive a commendation."
Guinevere knelt and embraced the dog. Percival swore Sunshine grinned.
The following day, in a ceremony in the Great Hall, Queen Guinevere named Sunshine "The Heroine of Camelot," and the queen presented Percival with a medal on Sunshine's behalf. Sunshine received a large slab of beef, which she preferred to the medal.
Gwaine stood by like a proud uncle. "Sunshine will be remembered in the history books. Who would have thought?"
