Chapter Five: Wisdom
Not a single cloud dotted the azure-blue sky that summer morning as hundreds lined the courtyard to bid Princess Mithian farewell. She was a beloved visitor, charming and engaging, with friends in Camelot from every social stratum, from scullery maids to Queen Guinevere.
Dressed in his knight's garb, Percival and Gwaine stood a dozen paces away from Queen Guinevere at the top of the castle steps leading down to the courtyard. Any moment, Mithian would emerge from the castle. Sunshine sat at Percival's feet, still sulky and not her usual cheerful self. It was as if she knew Mithian was leaving and blamed Percival for it.
A moment later, Mithian stepped outside, and the crowd cheered.
"Thank you for another lovely visit," she called, waving. "Your hospitality here in Camelot is unmatched. I had a wonderful time, and I hope to see you all again very soon."
She and Queen Guinevere shared a long embrace. When Mithian pulled back, Guinevere wiped away Mithian's tears and whispered what he imagined were soothing words, though Percival could not hear the details. Mithian then glanced at Percival and gave him a small nod and a smile. Sir Leon offered her his arm, escorting Mithian down the steps and bringing her to her waiting white mare.
People tossed flower petals at Mithian, wishing her safe travels. They all loved her. Who wouldn't?
Sunshine let out a mournful howl and shifted closer to Gwaine, making her disdain for Percival obvious. She certainly blamed him for the princess's departure.
"Gods, this is the most imbecilic thing I have ever seen," muttered Gwaine. "You are actually letting her go."
Sir Leon helped Mithian mount her horse, and she looked in Percival's direction one more time. "Goodbye, Sunshine!"
Sunshine's doleful howl rang out once again, making the short hairs on Percival's neck stand up. Before he knew it, he found himself charging down the stone steps with Sunshine right alongside.
"Mithian, wait!"
Percival heard mumbling about his poor manners and how one did not address a princess with such familiarity, but he ignored them. Gwaine was right. If Percival did not ask Mithian to marry him, he would be the most idiotic man who ever lived. It was a risk, proposing marriage, but who cared? Living with regret would be far worse.
He arrived at Mithian's horse, reached up, and took Mithian's hand. Sunshine sat on his foot.
"Mithian, I love you more than anything. Please marry me."
That was all he could think of. The crowd stood by in stunned silence. One could hear the wind whispering through the trees.
Mithian jumped down into Percival's arms. "Of course, I will marry you. I love you."
A deafening roar of approval rose from the crowd as Sunshine took victory laps around the courtyard. Percival kissed Mithian soundly, then rested his forehead against hers.
"I don't even have a betrothal gift for you. Sorry about that." His face heated.
"If I have you, I have everything I need."
They kissed again, until Sunshine all but crawled up Percival's side, demanding to be held. With great effort, Percival lifted Sunshine into his arms and held her like she was a (vastly) oversized baby, and Mithian kissed Sunshine's nose.
Percival imagined his parents and Luned smiling down on all of them.
XXXX
Three days later, Percival arrived at the royal castle in Nemeth, where Mithian and her elderly father, King Rodor, lived. At her insistence, Mithian had ridden ahead with her entourage, explaining to Percival that she wanted to prepare her father for Percival's arrival.
"Should I be worried?" asked Percival in a teasing tone, though it did not matter how much King Rodor interrogated him. Percival would face an army of a thousand to win Mithian's hand, if that was what it required.
Percival rode up to the gatehouse with Sunshine trotting alongside his horse and Gwaine riding behind. Queen Guinevere had been bursting with joy over Percival and Mithian's (potential) betrothal and was happy to give him a fortnight off, insisting he had to bring along Gwaine for support and protection, protection from King Rodor, Percival supposed.
Percival introduced himself, Gwaine, and Sunshine to the gatekeeper. The man cranked the gates open, and Percival was greeted by a score of Nemeth's knights, all of whom seemed wary, but they relaxed when they saw Sunshine was friendly. Her ebullient disposition won over even the most cantankerous of men.
Percival was dying to see Mithian, but the knights whisked him off to the Throne Room to meet King Rodor immediately, while Gwaine was seen to his guest chamber with Sunshine. Percival was not offered a drink, nor the chance to wash, which he would have appreciated before meeting with the king, but he supposed the purpose of this treatment was so King Rodor had the chance to size up Percival in his current state, travel-weary and less-than-clean.
Mustering confidence, Percival strode into the deep, sunlit throne room. King Rodor sat at the far end upon his throne, his thin body swallowed by dark robes, and his skin pale. Rodor was ten years older than the last time Percival had seen the king, when they had fought side-by-side against King Odin's men, and while Rodor sat slightly hunched and his skin wrinkled, his eyes gleamed with strength. King Rodor might have been frail in body, but not in spirit.
Scowling as he adjusted the crown resting on his bone-white hair, Rodor eyed Percival up and down. "I remember you, vaguely," he boomed, his strong, deep voice belying his age. "We faced Odin together."
Percival bowed. "That is right, Your Highness, and might I say that it is a pleasure—"
"Boy, I do not need you to tell me what is right. I have not gone soft in the head yet."
"I apologize, sire. I did not mean to insult." This was not going well.
"Let us cut to the quick. Why are you here, Percival?"
"I am in love with your daughter, Your Highness, and I would very much like to marry her, with your permission and blessing. I swear to cherish and care for her, always."
Rodor shot out of his seat like a man half his age and stormed around the chamber. "I fell for that horse shite with the last man! My daughter's husband stood before me, just as you do, telling me how he'd care for her and protect her, how their union would solidify Nemeth's alliance with the kingdom of Dyfed. He was cultured, well spoken, and I fell for it."
Percival did not dare interrupt the king during a tirade.
King Rodor came to a halt before Percival and glared at him, his eyes on fire. "That stinking son of a hog turned out to be a disaster, a drunkard whose first love was wenching. He promised me he would love my daughter, but he lied! Broke her heart! If he'd not died in a riding accident, I would have snapped his neck myself. He probably fell off the saddle because he was drunk.." Rodor jabbed a finger into Percival's chest. "Are you a drunkard?"
"No, sir, definitely not."
"Are you a cad who beds every woman he wants?"
"Not at all, sire."
Rodor circled Percival. "You're a bit old to be marrying for the first time. Have you left a trail of broken hearts behind you?"
"Your Highness, I have not. I was not lucky when it came to love, until I met your daughter."
"Why, precisely, do you love her?"
"Mithian, excuse me, Princess Mithian has the purest heart I have ever known. Despite having been hurt, she loves deeply, is kind, honest, and funny. I have never laughed so hard, nor known such happiness, and I will make it my life's mission to see she is happy, too."
"You said nothing about her beauty."
"No one would deny your daughter's beauty, my lord, but there is so much more to her."
"Lovely words." King Rodor waved his hand in the air vaguely. "Now get out."
"What do you mean, 'get out,' sire?"
"I mean precisely what I said. Are you deaf? I am done with you. Go back to Camelot."
Percival swallowed his disappointment and stood firm. "If you insist, Your Highness, but I will bring Mithian with me, and we will wed. I was hoping to do so with your permission and blessing."
Rodor turned a frightening shade of purple and bellowed, "I challenge you to a duel!"
A duel with a man more than twice Percival's age? That was absurd. "King Rodor, I will not fight you."
"You will have to win my daughter's hand! It is the only way. Follow me to the training circle on the west side of the castle. My men will armor you there."
Bewildered, Percival followed. Courtiers lined the corridors, glaring at him. Percival would stand out on this field before all and defend himself, but he would not strike this king with his sword.
People cheered the king and booed Percival as the men took the field. One of Rodor's sons, scowling, dragged heavy chainmail over Percival's head. Percival glanced around, wondering where Mithian was.
Gwaine, under the watchful eye of a guard, came up to Percival with Sunshine. "These people are mad," muttered Gwaine.
"You're telling me."
Percival had barely stepped into the ring when Rodor, clad in mail, charged forward, swinging his sword, moving far faster than Percival thought possible. Percival deflected the first blow with ease. Then the next, and the next. Rodor grew winded, and he stooped.
"Fight back!" insisted the king.
Percival shook his head blocked and several more sword strikes. Rodor started wheezing, and he fell to his knees. Flinging aside his weapon, Percival rushed forward to help, grasping Rodor's shoulders to keep him upright. "Water!" Percival demanded. "He needs water!"
Gwaine tossed over a waterskin, and Percival placed the vessel to the king's lips and tipped it. Rodor took several grateful sips, and his breathing slowed.
"Call for the physician," Percival insisted, but Rodor shook his head.
"I am all right. That was invigorating! Anyway, you passed the test."
"What test, sire?"
"You could have fought full-force against me. Shamed me in front of all after I told you to leave. Or, you could have decided it was too stressful to face an old man in the ring and left, but you stayed. That says much about your character, a willingness to face such a challenge. I wanted to see how you handled the situation."
On shaky legs, King Rodor stood, and Sunshine loped over, staring up at him. She gave him a sniff, licked his hand, then rubbed her big head against his leg. Rodor laughed. "And this is your other beloved?"
"Yes," said Percival, still stunned by all that had gone on. "This is Sunshine, sire, my dog."
Sunshine hopped onto her hind legs, placed her paws on Percival's shoulders, and licked his face as her tail wagged.
Rodor laughed with approval. "Dogs are excellent judges of character."
Right then, with her hair windblown and her eyes narrowed in anger, Mithian stormed into the ring. "Father! What is the meaning of this? My ladies took me riding, presumably at your command to keep me away from you and Percival. What are you doing?"
"I-I had to test him, my dear, to make sure he is the man for you." His eyes softening with care and concern, Rodor took his daughter's hands. "It was my fault, the misery of your first marriage. I trusted that man, and he hurt you. I never want that to happen again."
"Father you could have asked how I felt about Percival and what I wanted. There was no need for so much drama."
Percival placed a gentle hand on Mithian's back. "Sometimes a father must do what a father must do. I respect that your father loves you enough to question my motives and character."
"You, Sir Gwaine." Rodor motioned for him to approach. "What do you think of Sir Percival marrying my daughter?"
Gwaine sauntered over. "Well, Your Highness, I think Percival is rather ugly"—the bystanders all laughed— "but he is the finest friend in the realm and is completely in love with your daughter. He and Princess Mithian make a wonderful couple."
"If you had a daughter, Sir Gwaine, would you allow her to marry Percival?"
"Without hesitation."
King Rodor turned back to his daughter. "You and Percival will stay in Nemeth, won't you?"
"Unless you command it, no, Father. My heart lies in Camelot, and it has for some time."
Mithian's statement surprised Percival. He wondered what or who kept her tied to Camelot. Her friendship with Queen Guinevere? Had she fancied another man?
Mithian took Percival's hand and squeezed it. "My heart lies in Camelot because of you. Long before my wedding day, I noticed you, and I always hoped you would notice me, but it did not happen until now."
Percival tried to keep his jaw from dropping. "Not notice you? I admired you from the first time you set foot in Camelot to meet King Arthur, but I assumed you and I could never be. I thought of you plenty over the years, more than I should have."
Mithian wrapped her arms around Percival and rested her head against his mail-covered chest. "That's all in the past now. We have a wedding to plan, if Father approves."
"I approve." Rodor smiled. "I assume I should prepare for a wedding in Camelot?"
"If you wouldn't mind," said Mithian.
"Daughter, it is my deepest wish to see you happy, and if that means a wedding in Camelot, then you shall have it."
The bystanders cheered, and it perplexed Percival how they'd gone from hostile to jubilant in no time, but none of that mattered at the moment. The woman of Percival's dreams, the love of his life, stood in his embrace. Life could not have been better.
XXXX
The following spring, on a warm morning, Percival and Mithian sat on a blanket in Camelot's castle gardens, their favorite place, and he rubbed her feet.
"Oh, my ankles are so swollen, Percival. And I am fat. Huge, really."
Her ankles had swollen, and her midsection, but what was because she was seven months pregnant. It had been a difficult pregnancy for Mithian, replete with nausea, fatigue, headaches, and swelling. Percival appreciated how much she endured to carry his baby, and he treated her like the princess she was.
"Love, you are not fat," he insisted. "You're with child is all, and you have never looked more beautiful."
She sighed. "If you say so."
Sunshine, who has been resting her head in Mithian's lap, shot to her feet. She spotted a hare in the distance and bolted out of the gardens.
"Silly dog," said Percival.
Normally, Sunshine returned within moments when she realized no hare in the realm wanted to play with her, but this time, Sunshine flew into the woods. He and Mithian waited and waited, but Sunshine did not return.
Mithian struggled to her feet as tears filled her eyes. "We must find her!"
Mithian was in no condition to trudge through the woods. "I'll summon a search party. You wait in the castle. Please. I don't mean to be rude, but you would slow us down."
She acquiesced, and Percival called on his friends to help. A group of twenty, including Gwaine and Leon, joined the search. Around midday, they found Sunshine, shaken and her tail tucked, but unhurt. Mithian sobbed when she saw Sunshine, and the princess pulled Sunshine's custom-made dog bed right up against Percival and Mithian's bed for the night. Percival did not complain. He knew that stress was bad for the baby, and he wanted to ensure Mithian and the child she carried were as healthy as possible.
Within a few days, it seemed as if Sunshine had recovered from her ordeal. Though after a little more than a fortnight had passed, she slept more than usual, and her appetite was insatiable.
Percival eyed Sunshine. "She's growing a bit thick around the middle, don't you think?"
Mithian bent down and gently kneaded Sunshine's sides. "She's not thick. She's carrying puppies!"
Percival tried not to swoon. Puppies and a baby on the way? That sounded daunting.
Weeks before Mithian was due to give birth, Sunshine delivered two healthy puppies, all black and adorable. Mithian subsequently gave birth to a strapping son. Percival, his wife, son, and dogs remained wrapped in a cocoon of total bliss with their little family, but he hoped it was not too demanding for Mithian, dealing with an infant and three dogs in the chamber. She seemed pleased, though tired, and he did not like the thought of creating more work for her with the puppies.
"Mithian," he said when the puppies turned eight weeks old, "shall I find homes for the puppies?"
Mithian burst into tears, as did baby Percival. "No," she said, her voice shaking. "Please don't take them away."
"I won't, I swear." He pulled her and the baby close. "I want to make sure you are not overwhelmed and are happy is all."
"I have never been happier."
"Nor have I."
The years went by. Sir Percival served Camelot with honor, and Mithian became Queen Guinevere's closest advisor.
Percival and Mithian had three children who were, of course, raised with dogs. Percival could not imagine it any other way.
In a surprising turn of events, Gwaine and Queen Guinevere wed, having bonded over nursing an abandoned puppy back to health. Funny how that happened.
While holding Mithian's hand at Gwaine and Guinevere's royal wedding, Percival reflected on the past. His journey toward opening his heart had started with his first dog, Luned. He thought of her often, and the memories rarely pained him now. Her unconditional love and loyalty, as well as Sunshine's, set him on his current path, one filled with joy and family. His dogs had taught him that taking risks in the name of love was worth it. Luned and Sunshine were wise and wonderful creatures, indeed.
Life was simply better with dogs.
THE END
A/N—Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I am a bit shy about sharing my writing, and for those who left reviews, I appreciated your gentle encouragement. It meant a great deal to me.
