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Chapter Text

Door 9

Camelot was bustling.

Hunith knew the city was always busy, but with Beltane just a day away, there were people everywhere. The main road was lined by dozens and dozens of stalls, decorated with ribbons and flower garlands, their colourful canopies fluttering in the warm breeze. The market had swelled to what looked to be twice its usual size, spreading out from the city square and spilling down the cobblestone street all the way into the narrower alleys. The air was thick with smells—sweetbreads and pastries, sweat and fur—and people were calling and shouting from each corner, trying to get passersby interested in their wares. 

Not for the first time on her journey, Hunith was glad she wasn’t walking. Sitting on the back of the merchant’s cart, huddled between barrels of oil and sacks of spices, she could watch the hustle without having to worry about being squashed, or risking her bundle getting snatched by a thief. The cart easily parted the crowd, too, the two mules pulling it unimpressed by the noise.

It had been a bumpy journey from Ealdor as well as a slow one, the roads yet soft from the spring rains, but Hunith had appreciated the merchant’s kindness all the same. Her bones weren’t what they used to be and this year’s sowing had taken a toll on her back. Perhaps she would have still travelled faster on foot, but this way she had been protected at night, curled up on a bedroll by the merchant’s fire, who had only asked for some cooking, cleaning and company in return.

At last, the cart came to an abrupt halt. Hunith reached out to steady herself, then looked around. They had arrived at the edge of the city square, the white turrets of the castle towering just above them. The final stretch of the street leading towards the citadel looked to be far less busy. Guards in red-and-gold livery were standing about, keeping careful watch.

Hunith hopped off the cart, slinging her pack over one shoulder and adjusting her headscarf, then made her way to the front, where the merchant and his two sons were just climbing off their seats.

“This is where we part ways, eh?” said the merchant good-naturedly, waving off his sons to find the market warden and set up their stall.

“Yes. I can only thank you again for letting me travel with you,” Hunith replied, dipping her head.

The merchant smiled. “Oh, my pleasure. Your soup was really something. Best I had in a long time.” He rubbed his stomach with a deep chuckle, then added, “What’s your son’s trade, then, here in Camelot? You never did mention.”

“He works at the castle,” Hunith replied.

“As a servant, I reckon?” the merchant mused, giving his bushy beard a thoughtful stroke. “From the fields to the keep… an impressive journey.”

Hunith didn’t correct him, only thanked him again before saying goodbye and making for the castle, though she only made it half-way to the drawbridge before two guards stepped in her path.

“Halt, woman!” one said gruffly, his face grim as he lifted his pike. “The citadel is closed to peddlers and petitioners! Back to the city with you!” 

Hunith took a deep breath, then jutted out her chin. She had long refused to be intimidated by this sort of brute. “I’m here to see Merlin of Ealdor,” she said confidently.

The guard’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And what business would you have with the court sorcerer?” 

“I’m his mother.”

The guard let out a disbelieving huff, his eyes raking up and down Hunith’s work-worn clothes, but before he could say anything else, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Hunith!”

Breaking into a smile, Hunith turned towards the voice. “Gaius!” she exclaimed. “It’s been too long!”

The years had thinned Gaius’s long hair and slowed his walk to a near-crawl, but his embrace was as strong and affectionate as ever as he reached her. They hugged right in front of the guard, who promptly lost his suspicious look when he saw she was known to Camelot’s court physician and bowed his head contritely when Gaius chided him for stopping her. Hunith waved away the guard’s apology, then linked her elbow with Gaius. Slowly, they walked towards the castle.

“You must excuse our overeager guards, my dear,” Gaius said as they made their way across the drawbridge. “Beltane brings lots of strangers into the city, and not all of them are harmless.”

“I quite understand,” Hunith returned. “I saw how busy the market was.”

“You should have written and let Merlin make arrangements for you,” Gaius admonished her lightly. “Any of the King’s knights would have been happy to pick you up and accompany you to Camelot. In fact, I believe Sir Gwaine would have fought the whole lot for the honour.”

“The knights have more important things to worry about, I’m sure,” Hunith returned. “Besides, it would have made for a poor Beltane surprise for Merlin.”

“Your boy has had enough surprises in his life, believe me…” Gaius grumbled, half-exasperated, half-fond. “Well, he will be delighted to see you, of course. As it so happens, he’s in dire need of a good talking-to. He works too much, and not even the King will get it into his thick head that he must rest!”

“He takes after you then,” Hunith shot back good-naturedly, squeezing Gaius’s arm. “Surely, you have long deserved to retire?”

“I can retire when I’m dead,” Gaius retorted. “Besides, I have taken on a new apprentice just last year, now that Merlin cannot help me any longer, and I’m thinking about taking on a second. I’ll be needed here for a few more years yet.”

“And they are lucky to have a teacher as wise and dedicated as you,” Hunith replied, catching Gaius’s gaze. “I mean it,” she pushed, when he ticked his eyebrow at her. “Merlin wouldn’t be the man that he is now if it hadn’t been for your careful guidance. You must know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for him. You kept him safe. More than that, you taught him how to use his gifts well and find his destiny. He couldn’t have asked for a better mentor.”

Gaius looked away, clearing his throat twice. “It was my pleasure, Hunith,” he said, his voice still a bit hoarse. “You raised him to be a kind and compassionate boy, and he has the best of his father in him, too. He has become like a son to me, and I… I love him very dearly.”

They had reached the courtyard of the castle now, which was almost as busy as the market, and just as prettily decorated, garlands hanging off the windows and balconies. Hunith made a show of admiring it all, giving Gaius a moment to dab his sleeve against his wet eyes.

“Ah, look at me, growing sentimental in old age,” he said at last, chuckling. “Though I suppose it’s better than growing senile.” 

“Shall I walk you up the stairs?” Hunith offered, gesturing at the physician’s tower.

“I’ve not grown lame yet, either,” Gaius replied more gruffly, extracting himself from her. “You go on and find Merlin. I’ll be fine.”

Knowing there was no point in arguing with a stubborn old man, Hunith leaned in to press a kiss to Gaius’s cheek, thanking him again before turning toward the castle entrance. It, too, was guarded by several sentinels, though none of them stopped her when she followed the never-breaking string of servants and nobles up the stairs and passed through the double doors.

Chapter Text

Door 10

Inside the castle, Hunith stopped and glanced around, realising she did not know where to find her son now that he had quarters of his own. On a whim, she turned right and followed the main hallway, waiting for a chance to stop one of the less busy-looking servants to ask the way when her eyes fell on a familiar figure.

One would not have known Arthur Pendragon for a king if it hadn’t been for the way his people looked at him. He was dressed as Hunith had first got to know him, in plain breeches and a simple red tunic, the sword at his belt and the rings on his fingers the only sign of his nobility. He was standing in the corridor talking to a young knight, who was hanging off his King’s every word, looking as if nothing could honour him more than conversing with his liege.

Smiling, Hunith came to stand a few steps away, waiting to be noticed, though it was the knight who saw her first. She recognised him as soon as their eyes met, the triskelion brooch adorning his red cape an additional reminder.

“Lady Hunith!” he gasped, his eyes widening. Hurriedly, he dropped into a bow, as if Hunith were his Queen, not a simple peasant woman.

“I’m not a lady, Sir Mordred,” Hunith reminded him gently, feeling her cheeks prickle at his deference, then curtsied deeply at the King. “Your Majesty.”

When she looked up again, adjusting her pack as she straightened, the King was beaming at her. “Hunith! Merlin never said you were visiting for Beltane, the witless fool!” There was undeniable fondness in the insult. “Guinevere would have had chambers prepared for you if we had known.” He swivelled his head about. “I shall make arrangements at once, and lecture him later.” 

“He doesn’t know I’m here, sire,” Hunith replied, the prickling in her cheeks only growing at the King’s fussing. “And I’m sure I can find a comfortable spot for myself, my lord. There is no need for you to bother anyone with it.”

“Nonsense,” said the King, already flagging down a serving girl to tell her they would need another room prepared, as close to the court sorcerer’s rooms as possible. Hunith didn’t miss the ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ that came with his order, nor the adoring look the servant directed at her King as she curtsied and hurried away. “There,” the King said, satisfied. “You shall have a room, and a place at the High Table at the feast tomorrow, of course. I’ll have Guinevere rearrange the seats to make you fit.”

“There really is no—” Hunith started again.

“She can have my seat,” Sir Mordred cut in. “It would be an honour.”

“No need for that, I’m sure,” said the King, clapping a hand on Sir Mordred’s back. “The table is big enough, and I want you by my side, Mordred.” 

The knight looked at him like he had hung the moon. “Thank you, sire.”

“Won’t you show Hunith where her son is cooped up?” King Arthur added, seeming oblivious to the admiration he was garnering from everyone he spoke to, which made him seem all the more worthy of it. He shot Hunith an exasperated look. “He’s not left his tower in days, you must understand. He’s obsessed with the idea of enchanting the city walls. Wants to make it so no person with evil intentions can pass into Camelot. I think it’s madness, but you know how he is.”

Fiercely protective of you, Hunith thought fondly. Out loud, she said, “I’ll see what I can do, sire.”

“Splendid.” The King clapped his hands together. “Tell him his Queen and King want to have lunch with him at noon, and won’t take another no for an answer. You must come, too, Hunith, of course, and tell us how Ealdor is faring.” Before Hunith could reply, he had turned back to Sir Mordred. “As for me, I fear I must go and talk to my lords now, lest they start a rebellion. You take care of Hunith, Mordred.”

“Of course, sire,” Sir Mordred replied, bowing as his liege departed before turning his eyes on Hunith. “If you would follow me, my lady?”

“You really must call me Hunith,” she insisted as they fell into step.

Sir Mordred offered her a shy smile. “Yes, my lady.”

Hunith bit down on a laugh, then changed the topic by gesturing at his brooch. “Have any more druids joined the ranks of knights, then?”

“Oh, no,” Sir Mordred replied, reaching for the triskelion and fiddling with it. “They are a peaceful people, for the most part. But Gaius’s apprentice is a druid, as is the Queen’s maidservant, and there will be elders at the feast tomorrow.” He smiled, his eyes bright as he looked into the distance. “It really is a changed place, Camelot. The time of Albion has come, thanks to the King.” He looked at Hunith, his eyes shining brighter still. “And Emrys.”

It did not pass Hunith by that the admiration in Sir Mordred’s eyes did not look any different than the one he had shown to his King, and it warmed her to see that her son was so loved and cherished, though she knew how uncomfortable it must make him. “It’s good to hear that sorcerers feel welcome here now,” she returned.

“Yes,” Sir Mordred replied, losing some of his brightness as he added, “There is still prejudice, of course. But the King is tireless in his efforts to prevent attacks, or even just unkindness. And Emrys—well, the miracles he works every day would endear anyone to magic. Only two weeks ago, he prevented a great pox from spreading in the Lower Town, and he summoned rain in the early spring when the sowing in the South looked doomed to fail.” Again, he looked at Hunith with such adoration in his expression that it made her heart flutter. “He truly is our saviour, your son.”

They climbed the stairs in companionable silence, then walked all the way to the end of the hallway towards one of the castle towers. “This is him,” Mordred offered, pointing at the door, then bowed again, “I shall see you at the feast, my lady.”

Hunith looked after him with a fond shake of the head, then knocked at the door. 

Chapter Text

Door 11

There was no reply. Hunith knocked again, louder this time. When there was still no response, she dared to step inside without invitation, frowning deeply when she found the rooms utterly chaotic. 

Surely, she had taught Merlin better than this!

Her annoyance, however, evaporated again when she found her son slumped over his desk by the window, sound asleep on a stack of books, his hair sticking up in all directions and his chin covered in dark, patchy stubble.

Letting out a fond sigh, she put down her pack, then went to clean up a bit, collecting stray robes from the floor and stacking the used cups and dishes on the table on a tray. When she turned back towards the desk, her clattering had roused Merlin from his nap. He was stirring on his books, finally sitting up and blinking his eyes open.

It took him a moment to recognise Hunith, though when he did, he practically jumped to his feet, the fatigue draining from his face. “Mother!” he exclaimed, his smile stretching from ear to ear. 

Hunith smiled back, already opening her arms, and then they were hugging, Merlin’s arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. 

“Mother,” he said again, his voice full of emotion.

“Oh, how I missed you,” she sighed, her heart overflowing with affection.

Merlin pressed a kiss against her headscarf, another on her cheek when she pulled back, finally clasping her hands and kissing them, too. “You never said you were coming!” he accused her good-naturedly.

“A Beltane surprise,” she returned, squeezing his hands before letting go, in favour of gesturing around the room. Her voice turned stern. “I can only hope you would’ve cleaned this mess up if you’d known I was coming.”

Merlin looked about, then smiled sheepishly. “Ah. Yes. I do tend to get a little… distracted when I do research.”

“So your King said,” Hunith returned. “As it so happens, he wishes to have lunch with us, so you had better clean this up before that.” She gave him another stern look. “And yourself, too. A wash and a shave, I should think, and new robes.”

“I think you’re right.” Merlin conceded and looked down at himself, his cheeks pinking with embarrassment. “And you?” he added, glancing up again. “Shall I have a chamber arranged?”

“The King kindly took care of it already,” Hunith explained, just as a knock sounded at the door and the serving girl from earlier stuck her head in. 

“M’lady? Your room is prepared. ‘Tis just next door.”

“Thank you, Ethel,” said Merlin.

“Yes, thank you,” Hunith added.

Ethel beamed, curtsied, then disappeared.

“I should freshen up, too,” Hunith said, already picking up her bundle again. “I want this place spotless when I’m back,” she went on, playfully wriggling her fingers at her son as she made for the door. “I know you can be quite… efficient.”

Merlin made a funny face at her, which had her chuckle as she left the room and went looking for her own accommodations. Naturally, they were much too big and splendid for her, with a large, soft bed and fine furniture, her small pack looking quite sad against the fine brocade as she set it down. It would be nice to rest on a thick, soft mattress, however, and she made a point of cleaning her face and hands very diligently before pulling her best dress from her bundle and brushing it down before slipping into it. 

Finally, she settled down before the mirror in the corner, pulling off her headscarf and braiding her hair in a way that looked somewhat more appropriate for a lunch with the King and Queen, though there was no denying she would look completely out of place at the table, a farming woman dining with royalty. 

Merlin, by contrast, would fit right in. He had been dressed in finely embroidered robes, his hands far softer than they had been when he had still worked as a servant, and his cheeks filled from good food. 

When she had sent Merlin here all those years ago, she couldn’t have known how well things would turn out for him. She had been torn as she had written her letter to Gaius, caught between the fear of Uther’s cruelty, and the terrible uncertainty of what would become of Merlin if he stayed in Ealdor, his powers wild and unchecked. Many sleepless nights, she had spent wondering if she made the right decision, though her worries had eased considerably when she had met Prince Arthur, and seen how much he cared for her son.

And now, Arthur was King, and Merlin his honoured advisor. Balinor, she thought wistfully, would have been proud of him. Gaius was right, there was much of him in Merlin: his bravery, nobility, and strength. Their son had grown into a fine man, and she thanked the gods every day for it.

Deciding there was nothing further to be done to make herself presentable, Hunith got up from the stool, smoothing her skirt one last time, before venturing back into Merlin’s rooms, where a floating broom was sweeping the floor while the laundry was folding itself in a corner.

Merlin emerged just moments later from the backroom, dressed in fresh clothes and shaven clean, though his hair remained a mess. Tutting, Hunith had him summon a comb and got to work, taming the worst of the mop. “There,” she said at last. “Somewhat presentable.”

“You know Arthur doesn’t care how I look?” Merlin replied, pouting a little. “He’s had lunch in his riding clothes or mud-splattered armour himself more than once.”

“And the Queen must have loved that,” Hunith said drily. “Besides, as your mother, I care.” She offered him his arm. “Well? Won’t you lead the way?”

Smiling, Merlin took her arm and did, squeezing her hand when he looked closely at her face and found, perhaps, the nervousness there that Hunith was trying to hide. 

It was not every day one took lunch with the King and Queen of Camelot.

Chapter Text

Door 12

They spoke of Gaius as they walked, and how his apprentice was faring, with Merlin singing the boy’s praises, though it was clear he missed living in the infirmary. 

“Now that I live alone, I tend to get lost in my head,” he told her, just as they entered a grand dining chamber, the walls decorated with garlands and banners.

“Lost in your head?” came the King’s voice, who was already sitting at the head of the table with some wine. “I’d say it feels more like you misplaced it entirely most days.”

“Ha ha,” Merlin retorted drily, coming to stand next to the table. “Come to think of it, if I ever do misplace mine, I’ll simply borrow yours—it’s not like you’re using it.”

The King rolled his eyes, but Hunith didn’t miss the smile tugging at his lips, nor the bright look in Merlin’s eyes when he offered his King a little bow in greeting.

“Guinevere will be with us in a moment,” King Arthur added as he bid them sit. “She’s still trying to placate one of the lords. Gods know I was ready to cut his head off and be done with the discussion…” He flashed Merlin another playful grin. “Might have made for a good spare for you!”

Merlin grimaced. “No, thank you. I can only imagine you’re speaking of Lord Wulfric, and I’d much rather walk about headless for the rest of my life than wear his.”

“Fair point,” the King conceded, chuckling, then reached for the wine jug and served Hunith and Merlin a cup each.

Hunith accepted hers with some reluctance, thinking it was hardly appropriate that a king served a peasant woman, though when she caught Merlin’s eye, he only smiled knowingly, his eyes even brighter than before.

It was then that the Queen entered the dining room, dressed in splendid, flowing skirts, her hair cascading down her back. She looked tired, however, even a bit under the weather, though the fatigue vanished behind a broad smile when she spotted Hunith and Merlin.

“Hunith! I was so very pleased when I heard the news from Arthur. Welcome! Welcome back to Camelot!”

By then, everyone had risen to their feet, though Hunith was prevented from curtsying by the Queen drawing her into a long, heart-felt hug.

“I thank you, my lady,” Hunith replied, once they had parted, respectfully bowing her head.

“None of that,” the Queen returned at once, waving at her. “I will always be Gwen to you.” She turned to Merlin next, playfully swatting at him as he bowed before leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Glad to see you’re still alive,” she said, rather more scoldingly. “You really cannot lock yourself into that tower for days on end.”

“Sorry, my lady,” Merlin replied, which earned him another swat before the Queen moved on to place a peck on her husband’s lips and sat down next to him.

The King, Hunith noticed, immediately grasped his wife’s hand on the table, his whole face softening. They exchanged a long, loving look before he let go, with the King reaching for the wine jug to serve his wife as well. Half-way through the motion, however, he stopped abruptly, setting the wine back down before throwing his wife a sheepish look.

Merlin didn’t seem to have noticed the little exchange, busy draping a napkin across his lap, but Hunith filed the observation away, tickled by it. Surreptitiously, she kept her eyes on the Queen as the servants entered and started laying out the food.

It was rich, delicious fare, exotic spices enhancing even the more simple dishes, though as Hunith watched, she saw that the Queen was avoiding both the meat and more aromatic sauces, opting for planer fare and shielding her cup when one of the servants attempted to fill it with wine after all.

Certain now that her initial hunch was right, Hunith smiled and enjoyed the meal, which left her fuller than she had been in months. She stayed quiet as her son and the King talked and bantered, chuckling along with the Queen whenever one of them said something particularly witty.

“I missed this,” the Queen sighed at last, sitting back in her chair. Her plate, Hunith saw, was barely half-empty. “You really must eat with us more often, Merlin.”

“I will try,” Merlin returned. 

“Did you at least make any progress with those spells?” asked the King. 

Merlin, Hunith noticed, immediately straightened on the chair. “I found some things in the books, yes,” he said, then added rather formally, “With your permission, my lord, I would attempt to adjust the incantations and cast some of the spells on the city walls. If all goes well, it should prevent dark sorcerers from passing through the gates undetected.” There was tension in him now, Hunith saw, his shoulders taut.

The King, by contrast, didn’t seem bothered nor particularly wary, waving at Merlin as he took another sip of his wine. “Go ahead,” he added. “Just make sure you don’t mess up and set the city on fire.”

Merlin stiffened further. “Yes, sire,” he said, a little hoarsely.

Not a moment later, the King grimaced, abruptly putting down the cup. “Sorry,” he said, a bit too gruffly. “I didn’t mean—you have my blessing, Merlin, is all I meant.”

Merlin nodded, though his eyes were now on his lap, and there was a tension in the air that was very difficult to bear. 

Desperate to cut through the silence, perhaps, the Queen finally turned to Hunith, asking about any news from Ealdor.

“No news, just the same old,” Hunith returned lightly. “But that’s how most want it. No excitement, just peace and quiet.”

“Lot is a fine ruler,” the King offered. “I don’t agree with all his views, and should like it if he stopped claiming the Western River was his alone to fish, but he takes care of his people and protects them from bandits, which is more than could be said for Cenred.”

“He is good to us,” Hunith agreed. “And we have just got the news that he is to be married.”

The King nodded. “Yes, a princess of Nemeth. One of Queen Mithian’s younger sisters. She told me of the betrothal in her last letter. They are direct neighbours, so it only makes sense, though I think Melisande is a little young for him…”

“He will want an heir, Lot,” the Queen offered. “And a young bride is more likely to provide.” She rubbed her stomach as she said it, which tempted Hunith into replying:

"Yes. And the prospect of an heir always brings such joy to a kingdom, doesn’t it, my lady?"

The Queen blinked at her, then blushed. “Oh,” she said. “I—yes, I suppose...”

It was then that Merlin finally raised his head again, his eyes growing wide. “Wait,” he said. “Gwen, are you…?”

The Queen’s cheeks grew even more pink, and she looked about for the servants before exchanging a look with her husband. Finally, she admitted, “Yes. We were going to announce it tomorrow, actually, at the feast but—yes.” She beamed. “I’m with child at last.”

Chapter Text

Door 13

Merlin let out a whoop so full of joy that it tugged at Hunith’s heart. Then he was on his feet, rushing around the table and embracing the Queen where she sat, words of excitement spilling from his lips that made the Queen laugh and nod and rub at her shining eyes.

When Hunith looked at the King, he looked utterly besotted, accepting Hunith’s congratulations with a nod of the head.

It took Merlin several moments to calm and sit back down, and Hunith could tell he was still brimming with excitement as the Queen asked Hunith about her own pregnancy, and if she, too, had suffered from much sickness.

“It was an easy pregnancy for me,” Hunith replied. “Merlin gave me very few problems in the womb. Once he was born, however…” She threw Merlin a fond look. “Trouble from the minute he was out. Making things float and zip about the room whenever he was crying, or laughing.”

“He was doing magic that early?” the Queen asked, amazed.

“Oh, yes,” Hunith stressed. “In fact, his eyes glowed bright gold when he first opened them. The midwife pretended she didn’t see, but I knew what he was then. I was surprised, of course, for I don’t have a magical bone in my body, and I didn’t know then who Balinor really was…” She reached out to grasp Merlin’s hand, who had grown very still again. “Wouldn’t have changed it for the world, though,” she added, smiling at him. “His magic is a great gift, and he was very lucky to be blessed with it.”

Merlin offered her a wonky smile, his lower lip trembling just a little, which made her lean in and give him a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I never considered the idea that our child might be magical,” the Queen said, looking at Merlin. “Do you think it could happen?”

Merlin cleared his throat. “Well—it’s not impossible,” he said, very hesitantly and stiffly, and it didn’t pass Hunith by that he was glancing carefully at his King as he said it. “Though it is more likely, I believe, if at least one of the parents also has some sort of affinity for it.”

The King picked up his wine and emptied the chalice in one, long gulp.

“Not much of a chance then,” said the Queen. “Though I suppose if they do show the talent, they’d have the best tutor in you, Merlin.”

Merlin offered her another wobbly smile, though his eyes strayed back to the King, who was now looking at his empty chalice, grasping it very tightly. “I’m not much of a teacher,” Merlin deflected quietly. “I’d hardly be the most suitable choice…”

That had the King look up sharply. “What?” he said, affronted. “You’re the court sorcerer, and the only person I would trust to teach my child a spell in the first place, apart from Gaius perhaps. Obviously, you would be their mentor.”

“Oh,” said Merlin softly.

“Really,” the King added, putting down the chalice and straightening in his chair, “it might do the realm some good to have the heir to the throne proficient in magic. There are still too many who cling to old prejudices, and seeing their future liege wield it to protect the realm might change their mind—or at least, weed out those who would have never come to accept it anyway.”

“Oh,” Merlin said again, rather more thickly.

“Yes,” the King went on, his voice firm now, “I think I should like a magical child, actually. It would be good for Camelot.”

“Wait and see, I suppose,” the Queen replied and smiled at her husband, though her eyes were drawn across the table again when Merlin stood abruptly, his chair scraping across the flagstones as it was pushed back.

“Excuse me,” he choked out, then was off, his cheeks already shimmering wet.

Hunith was on her feet before she knew it, rushing after him and catching up to him in the corridor. He had slipped into an alcove just a few steps away, his back turned to the hallway as he muffled his sobs in the sleeves of his robes.

“Oh, Merlin,” Hunith sighed, and stepped closer.

Merlin let her pull him into a tight hug, his shoulders shaking as she embraced him, though just as she had thought, he was smiling through his tears when he pulled back. “Did you hear?” he said, sniffing and wiping at his nose. “Did you hear what he said?”

“Oh, love,” Hunith replied, smiling as she cupped his wet cheeks. “Did you still have doubts, after all he’s done?”

Before Merlin could reply, the King’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Merlin!” he called out. “You dunder-headed fool, come back here at once!” Footfalls approached and then, the King had spotted them, coming to a halt just outside the alcove. “Merlin,” he repeated, though he was sounding bewildered now. “Really, are you…?”

Hunith delicately moved aside and turned her back, offering them some privacy, though she could still catch some shreds of their conversation as she took a few steps away. 

“For the love of… Merlin, did you really think…?”

“… don’t know… didn’t expect…”

“… of course… you idiot!”

“… a magical child? Really? Arthur, I…”

“… surely you must know… trust you…”

Smiling, Hunith ushered away a nosy servant boy who had slowed down to see what the commotion was all about, though it seemed the heart-to-heart was already coming to an end.

“Merlin, I swear, if you don’t stop crying now, I’m going to order you to the stocks!” the King groused, louder now.

“Yes, go ahead and put me in the stocks,” Merlin replied, still sniffing. “I will go gladly, my lord, and tell every person passing by that you’re noble and gracious and—”

“Oh, for the gods’ sake—come here already!”

There was a surprised noise and some rustling, and a little sob that had Hunith rub at her own eyes, a very gentle murmur, and then, finally, both men stepped out of the alcove.

“Why must you always make such a fuss about everything,” the King was saying, though he sounded fonder than Hunith had ever heard him.

“Says the man who throws a tantrum whenever someone so much as comes close to beating him at sparring.”

“Oh, shut up, Merlin!” 

They came to stand at Hunith’s side, with the King offering her his arm to escort her back inside, which she took despite thinking it was hardly appropriate, her eyes on Merlin. His face was red and blotchy, but his smile was brighter than the sun.

By the time they had sat down again to finish the meal, the King and Merlin had gone back to bantering. Hunith saw the Queen send both men a fond look as she rested her hand on her stomach, and her heart swelled with happiness. 

Watching her son, surrounded by those he cared for, and who so very clearly cared about him, she couldn’t help but feel grateful to witness Camelot’s bright future unfold before her eyes.

It truly would be a blessed Beltane.