Summary

Leon searches for Herschel but finds the once trusting boy hardened from his absence.

Chapter 15 The Mouth of Babes

Leon couldn't find Herschel in the citadel kennels before his audience with Arthur and Gwen, nor could he find him at the orphanage after separating from his family now reveling in the upper town lanes with other nobles. It was good to hear his children's bright laughter in the festive ambience after the past month of sorrow. He was also happy to see his friends again, especially Arthur and Gwen finally ruling side by side and Merlin a court advisor. But anxiety swelled over his unresolved matter. He raked his hair, glanced up and down the lower town lanes perchance to spot Herschel.

"Leon!" Gwaine's cheerful hail broke his worrying thoughts as he sidled beside him and slapped an arm around his shoulder. "Cards and dice at Prancing Pony later? A couple of tankards with old friends – do you some good to join us again."

"Perhaps – maybe later," he replied, scanning the torch-lit lanes for any sign of the boy.

"Good man. Maybe Percival will be there too. It'll be like old times, eh?"

"I haven't been gone that long, Gwaine. I doubt you've really missed me ordering you around."

"Of course, I have," he laughed. "You were the brains keeping us knuckleheads together – now we have brawn knocking us together."

Gwaine went on about the drills Percival had them going through, the tight schedules and rotation demands. Leon's thoughts wandered as did his gaze. Right now, his conscience demanded his attentiveness elsewhere.

"Take pity and save me soon, eh?" he was saying, rubbing his shoulder with an exaggerated wince. "My arm still hasn't healed properly!"

"I wager your battle wound hasn't prevented you from lifting a tankard."

"Murder me the day that comes," Gwaine laughed and smacked Leon's back heartily. "Oh hello..." His attention caught on a passing maiden, eyes alight. "See you later!"

With a wink and a quick jaunt, he sauntered beside the young woman. Leon pressed a sad smile. It was well to be appreciated, and even though it had been only a month, he did miss his friends. He missed this life.

As he trudged back towards his family's celebratory lanes, guilt raised its head again, stabbed at his conscience until joyful laughter around him jolted a memory – the runt.

Quickening pace, he circled to the barracks' dog quarters and there crouched Herschel in the hay-strewn corner, feeding milk to a mewling pup. Though attired humbly, he seemed tidy and healthier than expected, a few straw sticks caught in his tight curly hair. Bright brown eyes flashed up to meet Leon's small smile of relief but then they quickly burned with resentment.

"Hello, Herschel," he said, frozen by the boy's penetrating gaze sweeping him up and down as he came around to the opening of the stall.

"He's, um – he's fortunate to have your diligent care," Leon said with a faint, amiable smile as if stopping by was routine for them. He sat on the floor across from Herschel, crossing his legs and draping his arms over knees.

"What's his name?"

"It's a girl," he snapped, returning his attention to the pup. "Her name is Lily."

Leon's heart stirred with bittersweet nostalgia despite Herschel's harsh response – his choice of name similitude to his affectionate use of flower names for his wife and girls. "That's-uh – that's a fine name. She'll have a better chance of surviving with your help."

Herschel looked up, held Leon's concerned stare without words, daring him to explain himself.

"It's good to see you, Herschel," he offered gently.

Herschel's cold silence struck Leon, the boy's pained expression conveying his worst fears – their bond had severed.

"How … how have you been? I'm happy to see you."

"I don't believe you," he bit out, eyes flashing. "You didn't say goodbye … You … left me."

Leon released a shaky breath, the fawning boy who clung to his once-protector's promises now locked away behind walls of distrust. In probing eyes that pierced him, he saw not fragility but fiery independence raging.

"I've learned to care for myself, Sir Leon … Your words mean nothing."

Shocked again by this resolute young man – now honed by self-reliance rather than diminished by abandonment or personal loss. Surely Percival had informed Herschel of his loss too? Yet still the boy's anguished eyes revealed a wound too raw for empathy or excuses that broke Leon's heart.

"I'm sorry, Herschel. I … I wasn't thinking clearly the day I left." It wasn't Percival's responsibility anyway, he chided himself. "Can you forgive me?"

He winced at more shivering silence, a condemnation underscoring the betrayal. As the boy finally spoke, voice trembling with resentment, Leon felt despair set in.

"As my lord wishes."

Leon exhaled heavily at the scathing obedience, his chest tightening with profound loss. "Herschel, I…"

"Sir Percival is kind to me," he said tersely. "He's my master now."

A lump swelled in Leon's throat at the rebuff – this boy had been as his own tender sapling, now severed from the root due to his negligence and grafted to another. He scrubbed his chin, his forehead – before looking back at Herschel. "I would like us to remain friends ... for you meet my girls." The plea came out small.

"I saw them earlier in the Lesser Hall – with your family."

Guilt sprang anew and Leon searched his memory for any glimpse he may have had of the boy. "You – were there?"

He nodded stiffly.

Many had greeted him upon his arrival and in the lower hall and it had been a good feeling being surrounded by them again … until this gutting realization that Herschel had witnessed it all from the shadows. He being reunited with community while the boy who needed him most suffered the agony of exclusion just out of sight cutting deeply.

What must it have been like for Herschel observing all? Witnessing his once-protector reveling with friends while he weathered bitter isolation alone? Leon rubbed his mouth, shame and empathy churning as he met Herschel's eyes again. How to even begin making amends for such unintentional cruelty?

"Join us for dinner tonight, Herschel," Leon managed finally, hesitant hope quivering the request. "I want the family to meet you."

"Why?" Water leaked from his eyes now, streaked his dark brown face. His lips trembled. "You're leaving soon. I'll never see you again."

Herschel's guarded rejection pierced Leon deeper than any blade. But there was the child again and he stood quickly, pulling Herschel into an embrace.

"Forgive me, child. I should never have left you."

Herschel tensed before letting himself melt briefly into the comfort of Leon's embrace – a flicker of the trusting boy Leon had known showing himself. But the moment passed too quickly, replaced by renewed wariness as he shouldered out of the hold and stepped back, his eyes red and swollen.

"I made a mistake," Leon said. "Let me make amends. Know that I care deeply for you, Herschel, so please come with me."

Leon extended his hand, his heart pounding as he willed it not to shake. The choice now loomed before this young man whose heart he had broken – to walk the long road back or turn away from rebuilding what his failure had shattered.

Several heartbeats passed as Herschel searched his remorseful eyes.

"Come with me," Leon gently urged, his hand still reaching for Herschel. "Please."

The pup whimpered softly. With care, Herschel returned her to the litter and faced Leon again, fresh wariness etched on his face. Slowly he placed his small hand in his larger extended one ... a tentative hold. Their gazes locked.

Leon breathed deep, clasping the hand as he nodded. He had much to atone for, much trust to earn anew. But here was a second chance. He would walk through fire before failing this boy again.