Hunith nudged the door open with her shoulder, her hands full with the large basket of wet laundry. With a heave, she hobbled inside, the door creaking closed behind her. Before she took more than a step, the King burst in from the bedroom.
"Merlin?!" but his excitement deflated when he saw her. "Oh, hello, Hunith."
"Hello, Your Highness," she tried to bow, but she struggled with the slipping basket.
The King lurched toward her. "Here, let me get that," he said, taking the heavy basket by the handles and placing it on the table.
Hunith brushed dirt from her dress, "thank you." Looking around she noticed the King was alone in the hut. "Where's Merlin?"
The way the King slumped onto the bench, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, made her heart ache for him.
"I don't know," his voice broke, "I…we had an argument and he -he said he had to do something," with a deep breath, he collected himself and continued, "he turned into that doddery old man and left," he explained, waving a hand dismissively.
Hunith, who had made her way to the laundry and was now draping a tunic over the clothesline that hung between the table and the fireplace, turned her head to the King in a quizzical gesture.
"Old man?" she asked.
"Yes. He can alter his appearance, look like an old man," he huffed, "which means he can leave while I'm stuck here."
"Well, since you're stuck here," she nodded her head at the basket, "perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me a hand?"
The King momentarily looked embarrassed, as if he should have thought to offer his help, then pushed up from the table and came to stand beside her. He glanced between the clothesline and the laundry, his face scrunched like he wasn't sure where to start. Hunith smiled.
"I imagine you've not hung laundry before?"
The King shook his head abashedly.
"That's alright. Here, let me show you," she picked up wet trousers from the basket and demonstrated how to use the clothesline. Tentative at first, before long, the King seemed comfortable, like he'd been hanging clothes all his life.
She smiled encouragingly, "you catch on quick, Your Highness." And for the first time, she saw an easy smile spread across his face.
"Thank you," he said, "and, please, call me Arthur." As quick as it had appeared, the smile vanished, "I'm no one's King now."
Hunith tossed a sodden blanket over the line, watching out of the corner of her eye as the King smoothed out a white linen with more concentration than was necessary. She noticed hard lines in his face that hadn't been there when he'd first come to her village almost a decade ago. Now he was a man with experience in the world. But still, the way he held himself, even when distraught and full of doubt, she saw the King that people loved, the King her son had chosen to serve and protect.
A small, knowing smile crept up on her lips. "You will always be King to Merlin," she said.
Arthur sighed and muttered, "not sure I deserve to be."
Turning to him she asked, "do you trust him?"
He looked at her in all seriousness and without hesitation replied, "with my life."
She reached in the basket for another wet cloth, "he trusts you with more than that."
Arthur's brow furrowed in confusion, "what do you mean?"
Hunith shook the wrinkles out of the napery. It made a loud rustling sound.
"For Merlin to tell you about his magic," she draped the linen over the line, "it means he trusts you with his heart," she gave Arthur a meaningful look. His eyes widened. Hunith smiled and turned back to the laundry.
"Whatever happened, things will work out. You two are like two sides of the same coin." She handed him a wet dress to hang. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at the dress, thinking about something important.