Door 20: Puppy

"She whelped five, my lord. All looking healthy, too," said Rodrick, the kennelmaster, holding up one blind, mewling puppy in each hand. "Cavall knows how to breed them right."

Arthur looked over the other pups of the litter, curled up at their mother's belly in the straw, then gave a pleased nod. "Excellent," he said. "I shall keep one for myself. In a few weeks, I'll take my pick. The rest of them, we'll raise to give away."

"Give away?"

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who was standing right next to him, leaning against the partition wall and craning his neck to look at the dogs in the box.

"Yes, of course," Arthur told him. "A greyhound from the royal kennels makes for a formidable gift for a visiting lord or loyal knight. They are quite expensive."

Merlin pursed his lips. "They can't stay here, with their mother?"

"Not forever, lad, no," said Rodrick, who had placed the pups with the rest of the litter and gotten up. "Eight to ten weeks, then we start separating them for training."

"Eight weeks?" Merlin repeated, sounding appalled.

"You need to start them young, for hunting." Rodrick shrugged.

Merlin gave a great pout at that, and was still moping when Arthur and he were back in the castle.

"Are you going to sulk all day about those puppies, then?" Arthur asked him at last, when Merlin kept sighing right into his ear while serving lunch.

"Just eight weeks with their mother," Merlin replied as he poured Arthur more wine. "Can you even imagine losing your mother so early? That's just cruel."

Arthur grimaced and fixed his eyes on his food. "Well, that's just life," he replied gruffly.

There was a loaded pause, then Merlin sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh, Arthur, I didn't—I'm so sorry, my lord, I only meant—"

"I know what you meant," Arthur cut him off and stabbed his meat with too much force.

"I'm so sorry," Merlin repeated in a small voice, then added, "I'll shut up now, sire."

"That would be a first," Arthur muttered.

After a few moments of thick silence, he glanced up from the roast, finding that Merlin was clutching the wine jug to his chest with white-knuckled fingers, looking at his boots and chewing on his lip.

Somehow, the sight smoothed over the jagged cut that had been torn open in Arthurʼs chest. "We'll go back to the kennel in eight weeks," he said, in a conciliatory tone. "If you want, you can help me pick my new hound from the lot then."

Merlin instantly brightened at that, flashing him an excited grin. "Really?" he said, far too eagerly. "May I name the dog, too?"

Arthur couldn't help but smile back, seeing his enthusiasm. "You may," he conceded, then held up a hand at Merlin's whoop of joy. "I reserve the right to veto anything girly or stupid. I won't be riding out on a hunt with Buttercup or Pebbles."

Merlin nodded. "I'll think of something."

"Artemis," said Merlin, holding up the yapping pup. "That's what we'll call her."

Arthur looked at the young greyhound Merlin had picked from the litter. The pup was squirming in Merlin's hands, trying to lick at them. He had gone for the flecked blue, which pleased Arthur to no end, secretly having preferred the same dog over the more popular whites, not that he would ever tell Merlin that.

"I can live with that," Arthur replied. "Bit on the nose, though, for a hunting dog."

"Don't care," Merlin replied, lifting the puppy so she could lick at his face instead. "It suits her."

"Give her a few weeks, and she'll bite your nose right off instead," Arthur commented drily as he watched the newly-named Artemis slobber all over Merlin's cheeks.

Merlin sent him an affronted look. "She'd never," he replied, sounding honestly offended. "Her and I will be great friends."

"You do realise she'll be trained to hunt?" Arthur pointed out, crossing his arms. "Scenting, chasing the prey…"

"Well, I'm not prey, am I?" Merlin replied.

Arthur smirked. "You could be. Might make for a nice sport: servant-hunting…"

Merlin shot him a glare. "I should hope," he said, in a tone that made Arthur uncross his arms and stand a little straighter, "you've grown into a better person than that since we first met."

A servant, Arthur thought, should not be able to drive such heat into Arthur's cheeks with one comment. Certainly, he should not cause the Prince of Camelot to clear his throat and say, "I was only jesting." To save face, he added, "Don't get your smallclothes into a twist."

Merlin glared at him for a moment longer, then turned his eyes back on Artemis. "Aren't you the cutest?" he cooed, when she licked at him again. "I shall fetch you some treats from the kitchen!"

"Don't spoil her," Arthur told him off. "She needs to stay lean for the chase."

"I won't," Merlin promised.

"He's spoiling her, sire," said Rodrick, shaking his head as he watched Merlin scratch Artemis behind the ears – much to the dog's delight, judging by the lolling tongue.

Arthur knew the kennelmaster was right. Still, he couldn't find it in him to be annoyed as he watched Merlin fall onto his bum, laughing brightly. Artemis had jumped forward abruptly, perhaps to demand more treats, and pushed him right over. She was growing quickly now. Already, it was clear she would be one of the biggest hounds in the royal kennel, though she was still behaving like a small puppy with Merlin, who was squirming on the ground now, trying to fend off her searching muzzle.

Arthur couldn't help but smile at the sight. There was something terribly endearing about Merlin. Not even the King was immune to his strange charm, sending the servant to the stocks when he would have ordered anyone else whipped instead – a huge concession, where Father was concerned.

"I don't mind them getting along well," Arthur said. "He'll have to handle her on the hunt. How is the training going?"

"Fairly well so far, my lord," Rodrick replied. "She'll make for an excellent scenter and chaser, though there's a few others from the same litter that are much more—well…"

"Yes?"

"Bold, my lord," Rodrick went on more cautiously. "She's not a very aggressive hound. If she doesn't improve, I don't see her being very successful at actually bringing down the prey."

Arthur frowned. "I see."

"She doesn't bite well," Rodrick elaborated. "Always the last to latch onto the dummy and the first to let go."

Arthur hummed, watching Merlin place a resounding kiss on Artemis's snout as she chewed on another treat.

"Sire," Rodrick said at last. "I would never presume to question your good judgement… but perhaps…" He made a vague gesture towards Merlin. "If he didn't visit her quite so often…"

The remains of Arthur's smile vanished. "He's really interfering that much in her training?"

"He's treating her like a ladyʼs lapdog," Rodrick replied, almost apologetically.

Arthur watched Merlin tug affectionately at Artemis's ears for a long moment before finally turning away, his stomach sinking as he promised, "I'll talk to him."

Merlin was moping again. In fact, his face was so long these days that Arthur was surprised his chin wasn't dragging over the floor.

"It's Yuletide," Arthur tried to cheer him up one afternoon, gently nudging Merlin's leg with his boot. "Aren't you excited for all the gifts and treats?"

"Artemis loves treats," Merlin sighed at him from the floor, which he was currently doing a very lacklustre job scrubbing.

Arthur shook his head at him. "Are you really that upset about not being allowed to see her?"

Merlin threw Arthur a miserable look. "I haven't seen her in three weeks. I miss her. She's my best friend."

Arthur, much to his own mortification, had to suppress an entirely stupid bout of jealousy at hearing that. "I'll make sure to tell Guinevere that," he quipped instead.

"Oh, she'd understand," Merlin replied and listlessly resumed his scrubbing. "Artemis is special…" To Arthur's horror, he let out something very much akin to a sniff before adding, "Rodrick will ruin her… Sheʼll never snuggle up to me again..."

"Sheʼs a hunting dog," Arthur told him, aiming for a reasonable tone.

Merlin only let out another heaving sigh. "Yes," he said. "But I hate hunting."

Arthur knew it was stupid.

Stupid and sentimental and not conducive to teaching Merlin any sort of valuable lesson.

He did it anyway.

"Where are we going?" Merlin grumbled, his hands shoved underneath his armpits. "It's freezing."

"It is not your place to question your master," Arthur retorted haughtily, all the while suppressing a smug grin.

"What if your master's an ass?" Merlin muttered.

Arthur was in far too good a mood to get offended. He knew Merlin would regret grousing at him in just a minute.

Sure enough, when Merlin realised where they were going, he perked up quite quickly. "Oh, are we going to see Artemis?" he said, his voice growing excited as the royal kennels came into view.

"We are," Arthur admitted and could no longer hold onto his grin when Merlin let out a little shout of excitement, all but bouncing the rest of the way.

When they entered the kennels, Rodrick was there. He threw Merlin an exasperated scowl when he was immediately accosted by the servant, who was all but demanding to see Artemis at once, though he reined in his reaction when he spotted Arthur at the door.

"Sire," he said with a small bow as Merlin scarpered off, having spotted Artemis in her box.

He set about greeting her enthusiastically, already fishing for a treat in the bag hanging off the wall as she jumped at him.

Arthur stepped closer. "Everything is prepared, then?"

Rodrick nodded, reaching out to take a leash and collar off a hook. They were brand-new, the smell of fresh leather still clinging to them. "If I may say so, my lord, it's a right waste," Rodrick added. "She's so perfectly bred."

"We can always have her whelp a litter next year," Arthur replied, his eyes already on Merlin again, who was grinning ear to ear while wrestling Artemis just outside her box, causing the other dogs nearby to bark and yelp at the commotion.

"As you say, my lord," Rodrick sighed, then whistled.

Artemis – very reluctantly – let off Merlin and heeled, settling down at Rodrick's feet. The kennelmaster bent down, fastening the collar and leash to her.

"Oh, are we taking her on a walk?" Merlin said excitedly, approaching. There was straw stuck in his hair. "I didn't know you wanted to ride out, Arthur."

"We're not riding out," Arthur said, then jerked his head at Rodrick and the dog. "Take her," he added, a little gruffly. "She's yours."

It took Merlin a moment to process the words. When he did, his eyes widened almost comically, his eyes flickering from Arthur to Artemis, then back. "What?" he said.

"I've picked another hound from the lot," Arthur elaborated, in a pointedly unaffected tone. "Aethelm will make for an excellent replacement for Cavall, I think. I have no need of her anymore."

Merlin stared at him. "You're… you're gifting her to me?" he asked.

"She can stay in the kennels," Arthur told him, fighting a smile. "I don't think Gaius would appreciate having a dog around his patients. They'll feed her here, too, but you'll be the one grooming and walking her. Rodrick and his men really can't be expected to take care of your personal lapdog."

Merlin was still staring at him. "Lapdog? But—but—she's a greyhound," he stammered. "They're expensive, you said. A gift you'd give to a lord…"

"Well, she's not much of a hound anymore, given how much you've spoiled her," Arthur deflected, though he had to look away when he saw Merlin's eyes had started to shine rather brightly. "Happy Yule, Merlin," he added, more hoarsely than he wanted.

Merlin, at least, didnʼt seem to fare much better, as he replied with a choked, "Thank you, sire, " before he turned towards the dog, taking the leash from Rodrick as he knelt before her. "Did you hear that, girl?" he told her. "You're mine now. No more biting lessons for you."

Artemis let out a happy bark, then proceeded to slobber all over Merlin's face, until she was fed another treat or three.

"Spoiled rotten," Rodrick muttered next to Arthur and walked away.

Arthur smiled.