Part II

It has been a warm autumn, Mithian mused as she gazed out the high windows. It was a dreary day, and there was but the faintest nip in the air. The clouds above were pale grey and thin, hardly a harbinger for rain or snow, and the pines of the Darkling Woods bent and danced with the wind. The snow would not come for another few weeks, she assumed.

In Nemeth, the temperature was already dropping, so Ronan had said the last time she spoke with him. She smiled, remembering the first time Merlin had excitedly dragged her from their cozy loft in the middle of the night, only to lead her toward a dusty old mirror. She had been disoriented, bleary-eyed, and confused, and his eccentric way of explaining things was often difficult enough to understand when she was awake, but eventually, somehow, she'd understood.

The memory of the delightful whines he made when she had kissed him senseless sent an electrifying thrill through her.

Learning how to scry, and how to manipulate that particular brand of magic in such a way that she could speak with her family in Nemeth, was the most amazing thing Merlin had ever done for her. It still drained him to maintain such a spell, and Mithian made sure to show him just how grateful she was every time he performed it for her.

The last time she spoke to her brothers and father was also around the time he began to act more strangely than usual.

Absently, she twisted the ring of holly that adorned her finger. It was a habit she couldn't seem to break, not that she had given any real effort into doing so. That ring was more than physical evidence of Merlin's oath to her (and her oath to him) upon their engagement: it was a symbol of his love, a message that transcended generations…and above all, it was a sign that no matter how bleak or dark the world became, all would be well, in the end.

All will be well.

"Oh, dear." The forgotten book in Mithian's lap jerked as she leapt in her seat, and she turned from the window to find Queen Guinevere lowering her sewing needle. Her friend grinned good-naturedly and teased, "I do believe I just heard you sigh audibly (1)."

Mithian blinked. "Did I?"

Gwen's brow furrowed. "Yes," she said slowly. "Are you alright?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been staring out the window for quite some time now," Gwen teased, her tone not quite matching the light in her eyes. "I was tempted to ask what had you so captivated."

"Oh, it was nothing, Gwen. I was just thinking."

"About Merlin?"

Concern radiated from the queen, and her cautious brown eyes probed Mithian, who smiled and joked, "Who else would make me sigh so audibly?"

Gwen laughed. "Your brother Ronan is another."

"Well, that's because he's truly an imbecile sometimes. Did I tell you he broke his nose again?"

"You didn't, but after what happened last time, I can only assume it's an epic tale."

"It'll be sung across the land by the most talented of bards, I assure you," Mithian deadpanned. "Between him and Merlin, I probably will go grey far sooner than expected."

The humor died from Gwen's eyes, and she looked distinctly uncomfortable. Something had been on her friend's mind for some time now, and Mithian was sure it was going to come to light now. "Mithian…is everything…?"

The Nemethian quirked a brow as the queen stuttered. "Gwen, we've been friends for awhile now. You can speak your mind."

Gwen gnawed on her lip for only a second. "Merlin has been acting unnatural lately," she finally blurted. A delicate hand rested on the soft rise of her stomach as she rambled on, "Not his normal unnatural. Not the 'I-know-something-bad-is-about-to-happen-and-need-to-handle-it-by-myself' unnatural either. Arthur and I already ruled that one out."

That made Mithian laugh. Hard. She doubled over and laughed until tears formed in her eyes. She supposed most people would normally be offended—that two close friends were talking about her, her husband, and their business behind her back—but in this instance, she could only wonder how it is she got so lucky to have these people, these wonderful, ridiculous, and hilarious people, in her life.

"Oh, Gwen, no, no," she gasped, shaking her head. "I hope you weren't worried?"

"We both were," Gwen admitted sheepishly. "We had never seen you and Merlin at such odds before."

"I appreciate that, Gwen," Mithian said. "Merlin and I aren't at odds. Not necessarily, anyway. I'm just biding my time…and giving him the time to realize he's being foolish."

If anything, Guinevere looked more confused. "I'm…"

Mithian realized she and Merlin weren't the most…normal of couples, but she had thought it so amazingly obvious, she wondered why both Arthur and Gwen couldn't see it. "Merlin thinks I want to start a family," she explained. Smiling fondly at Guinevere's belly, she added, "Like you have."

"Oh, Mithian," Gwen choked. Mithian wasn't sure whether the tears that filled the queen's eyes were tears of joy or pity. Merlin was acting very strange about it all, after all. "You want…?"

For some reason, the half-formed question took her aback, and though she found Merlin's awkwardness adorable and the whole affair amusing, a small part of her, the part of her that did ache for a child of her own, felt as though it had been stomped on. If she looked at it from Arthur and Gwen's perspective, Merlin was behaving rather poorly, in all truth. He wasn't cold or distant, but it was as though a cog had gotten stuck in the usually fluid mechanics of their relationship.

It did not help that he should have been the first to ask. They should have talked about it long ago, but that wasn't Merlin. Merlin was the one who didn't want to hurt her by telling her the truth. He was the type to avoid disappointing others if he could…and the one to feel a great amount of self-doubt for having grown up as a fatherless bastard.

Yes, it stung to come to the ultimate conclusion that Merlin should have been the one to ask her first. When it came down to it, however, she felt a great amount of relief in being able to admit it at all.

"Yes," she murmured. "I do."

"But Merlin…?"

"Merlin doesn't want to admit he's not ready," Mithian said with a soft smile. "It's as obvious to me as my desire to begin a family is to him. He doesn't realize I already know, so I'm waiting for him to come to his senses and tell me without coaxing it out of him. We both know how well attempting that would work out for me."

Gwen surveyed Mithian with wide eyes. "You're…okay with this? With waiting?"

Mithian nodded. "If Merlin isn't ready, then I am not. We have to be ready before I'll seriously consider it."

Gwen must have caught something in her tone, and her eyes hardened. "Are you going to tell him how you feel about this?"

"If he is going through such great lengths to avoid disappointing me," Mithian said, fingering the spine of her book, "then there really is nothing to tell him. He already knows." She frowned. "But then again, you're right. We can't do this every time he thinks he's going to hurt me, can we?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Men do need more than a little push, sometimes." A smirk formed on her face, and she leaned closer to whisper, "They can be quite dense at the best of times, even ones as brilliant as our dear husbands."

~…~

"Sire!" Halwyn boomed the moment he caught sight of Arthur and Merlin nearing the royal dog kennels. The kennel-master was a broad man, his neck and arms corded with thick muscle and scars. In his prime, he was a great warrior, but a wound to the leg had crippled him, leaving him unable to run and walk without a heavy limp. Since the injury, he'd taken over the role his father had left him upon his death. Despite the misfortune that had befallen Halwyn, he was happy, as dogs were like kin to him. He became a master trainer and breeder, and his hunting dogs were of the best stock.

His bitch, Rhymhi, had whelped a few days ago. Arthur probably would have been down to see the litter sooner, but the latest council meeting had taken up more time than the king and warlock would have preferred.

"Halwyn," Arthur greeted, grinning broadly.

The two men gripped forearms, and Halwyn said, "I wasn't expecting you so early. Oi! Merlin!" The bald man released Arthur's hand to sneak his arm around Merlin, and he squeezed him to his side in an awkward, bone-crushing sort of embrace. "Lad, I didn't expect to see you here at all!"

Merlin grimaced. When he had been a servant, Arthur had often asked him to fetch Halwyn whenever a large hunting band wanted to head out. As Arthur did love to hunt, the kennel master and servant had spent quite a bit of time together. It hadn't been an amicable relationship. Merlin had always been in the man's way, and Halwyn had had no patience for it. However, that had changed when Merlin had happened to stumble upon the kennels and found Halwyn in a spot of trouble. A bitch had surprised him by going into an early labor, and it had not been going very well. With a bit of surreptitious magic, Merlin had been able to save most of the pups and their mother.

After that…the two were fast friends. When it became obvious Merlin had no touch for dogs beyond that of delivering them into the world, Halwyn had made it his personal mission to tease him every chance he had.

Struggling out of the older man's grip, Merlin nodded his head toward the king. "Couldn't escape this one here. I just had to see the best litter of dogs ever born."

"Aye, they certainly are beautiful!" Halwyn beamed proudly. "Come, come. Rhymi is with the pups in one of the kennels. Cabal…"

He whistled shrilly, and the hound appeared as though out of nowhere. The beast paused only momentarily to glare at Merlin, whose eyes narrowed in response, and then padded up to Arthur, tail wagging and ears perked.

The king knelt to rub at the dog's silky ears, murmuring praise and avoiding the slobbery tongue that threatened to lick his face. Merlin stood back with Halwyn and said, "The birth must have been pretty easy if you didn't call for me a few nights ago."

"Rhymi is a strong one. Best I've bred. The litter is three-and-ten, you know."

Merlin's eyebrows rose in surprise. Even Arthur looked up from Cabal at the news. "That's a big litter for a hound," the king said. "The pups are all healthy?"

The kennel-master's grin faded and motioned for Cabal to follow them. "Come see."

Despite the fact that Arthur's dogs and Merlin never seemed to get along, the warlock wouldn't say he didn't like dogs. He definitely wasn't immune to their charm. That much was clear when the three of them stuck their heads into Rhymi's kennel and his heart melted. Thirteen bundles of fur were snuggled against the warmth of their mother. The three men's entrance woke them up, and their ears began flopping every which way as they roved over each other in search of milk.

There was one pup that caught Merlin's eye. He was not the only one. "The runt hasn't been rejected, has he?" Arthur asked, watching the smallest of the litter wiggle awkwardly along. It had been left behind by its bigger brothers and sisters, who pushed and trampled and kicked and walked all over it, and when it released a little, longing cry, a pang of familiarity raced through Merlin.

That was the only cry it released. It must have sensed it would receive no pity, and it dove into the pack of pups, fighting for an open place.

Merlin barely heard Halwyn admit that Rhymi had whelped a litter too large to care for and that she had begun to show signs of knowing that the little one—a female, not a male—was already too weak to survive. It was normal for runts, especially in a litter this size, Merlin knew; he'd seen his fair share of them in Ealdor. The ones who did end up dying never could fight back.

"…might have to put the wee one out of 'er mis—"

"No!" Merlin exclaimed. Rhymi and Cabal, who still sat at Arthur's side, both growled low in their throats, and sensing their unease, the pups began to whimper.

Arthur and Halwyn shushed the dogs and turned to stare at the warlock. "What do you think happens to the runts that get rejected, Merlin?" Arthur asked in a lower tone. "It's far more humane to kill them quickly than allow them to starve."

Merlin shook his head. The runt was still fighting to squeeze between its siblings, but it was already tiring. He knew how things worked. He knew quite well. As he watched the little one struggle and wiggle its little bum, however…

It has spirit.

"No, I'll take it."

"What?"

"I'll take the pup."

Halwyn started to laugh. "That's a good joke, lad." When Merlin's stormy blue eyes fixated on it again, the kennel-master stopped laughing. "You're serious."

"Let me try."

Arthur fondled Cabal's ears and exchanged a dubious gaze with Halwyn. "You were just telling me," Arthur muttered in an undertone, "that you didn't think you were ready for a baby."

Merlin was quite aware of the hypocrisy. "Yes, I did."

"A four-day-old hound pup is different?"

"It is different," Merlin muttered. The responsibility it would entail was the same, probably, but he wouldn't admit that. "I need to do this."

"Why?" Halwyn said, interjecting himself back into the conversation. "You're not much of a dog-whisperer, Merlin, and your magic tricks will only go so far. This one was not meant to live long in the world, if 'er mother is rejecting 'er. And separating the pup from 'er mother is almost a death sentence itself! Why do you want to test fate?"

Merlin turned his stubborn gaze to his companions. "Because I think this one has a fighting chance."

(1) If anyone can guess what movie inspired this quote, I will give you all the virtual cookies.

AN: Cabal, Rhymi, and the litter are indeed bloodhounds. I've read that they were excellent stag/boar hunters and trackers in this time period. In fact, that was the very reason they were bred. Can't claim to know a lot about breeding in general, but the situation with the runt of the litter can happen, as I've read on The Daily Puppy (which is where I did most of my research for this chapter). Would the puppy have survived in these times without the proper nutrients from its mother? Can't say. Nowadays, there are special power formulas that we can buy for puppies that have been separated from their mother far too early. Point being, I apologize for any inaccuracies or unrealistic stuff here. Magic will fix everything, lol.