Eileen twitched and groaned at the pecking sound on her window, rolling over to face away from it. The pecking grew more persistent as she tried to ignore it. She could hear a hissing voice now if she stopped the bedclothes from rustling. The noise was too quiet to disturb her, but just loud enough to make sleeping impossible. At last she groaned again and sat up, wiping her eyes. She climbed out of bed and over to the window, opening the latch to allow her husband to swing into the room.

He straightened and brushed invisible dirt off his tunic. "For a minute there I thought you weren't going to let me in."

She groaned at him, her eyes still half-closed, and started to stagger back into bed. He caught her wrist. She half-groaned, half-sighed, rolling her head toward him. "Terence, it's the middle of the night," she said sleepily.

"Technically it's early in the morning," he replied, squeezing her hand. "I couldn't give you your birthday present the day before your birthday, could I?"

She groaned again, leaning her head back exasperatedly. "That's what you wanted to wake me up for?"

"Yup."

"I'm going to kill you." He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. She reached up and pushed his face away, then frowned. "…You're not dressed for bed."

"Hmmm, I'm not, am I?" he said, grinning. He fidgeted with his cloak, and she dimly saw a dagger and a small bag strapped to his belt.

She groaned one last time and threw herself out of his grip and onto her bed. He laughed again, further stirring up her irritation against him. When he touched her shoulder she threw her pillow at him. He caught it and tossed it on the ground, then went to her wardrobe. She sighed when she heard the wardrobe door swinging open. "Don't touch anything. I'm not getting dressed. You're getting undressed."

"Well, if you want to go that route," Terence said, and she could practically hear him cocking that ridiculous eyebrow at her.

"Oh, shut up." She rolled onto her back and glared at him upside-down. "You know what I mean. Presents can wait for tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow. Morning, remember?"

"Terence, I want to sleep."

He pulled a plain but warm riding dress out of her wardrobe. "And sleep you will. But I have to give you your present first. You'll love it, I promise," he added when she pouted at him. He tossed the dress onto the bed.

She glared at it. It was one of her favorites, but that didn't mean she wanted to wear it just then. "Terence."

"Eileen," he said, imitating her tone. She scowled; she hated it when he did that. "Come on, dear. You can't go out in your nightgown. You'll catch cold."

"Is that all you're concerned about with me going out in the middle of the night, with a squire, in my nightgown? That I'll catch cold?" But she sat up and grabbed the dress anyway, as much as she wanted nothing more than to roll over and drift off.

He made a face at her before turning around so she could dress privately. Eileen had no idea why—they were married, after all, and he'd seen her in every state of dress imaginable. He did that every once in a while, though, dropping into a disgusting amount of chivalry, usually after an extended period of time without talking to anyone but Gawain. "I've called in some favors," he said as she dressed. "There are no guards in the hallways and I'm sneaking you out of the castle. No one will see us."

She slipped the gown over her head, pulling her red-gold hair out of the neckline and fiddling the skirt. "Why are we leaving the castle? Lace me up in the back?"

He was grinning like a little boy when he spun around and moved toward her. "Because your present is in the woods, of course," he said, turning her by the shoulders and deftly tying up the back of the dress.

"Are you sure I'm going to like it," she said, frowning and reaching for a ribbon from her nightstand. "I'm losing sleep over this present and going outside at night. Here, braid my hair while you're back there."

Terence took the ribbon and, unseen to her, tossed it over his shoulder. "You'll love it. You really will."

"I don't feel you braiding anything."

"It's just me seeing you, you don't need to put it up."

"Hmmm, just because you like my hair down."

He bent and buried his face in the sleep-strewn locks down her back. "It makes you look like a wild thing," he murmured into the back of her neck.

She huffed and stepped away, nearly making him lose his balance and fall over. She laughed at the sight of him grabbing at the bedpost to stop from falling. Picking up the ribbon, she tied her hair back from her face, but left it loose, and slid into her boots. "Well? Come on, then. What's my present?" she asked as she fastened the cloak he handed her around her neck and shoulders.

Terence took her hand and pulled her toward the door. "You'll have to see," he said. "It's more of an experience than a gift."

She rolled her eyes and let him lead her out of her room. True to his word, there wasn't a sign of the usual guard at the corner of the hall, nor was there anyone in sight on the way to the side door out of the castle that only the kitchen staff and squires used. Odd; at least one of the night staff, much less the guards, could be seen padding through the corridors on tip-toe in the middle of the night. "How many favors did you call?" she hissed as they left the courtyard.

He shook his head and put a finger to his lips, and she bit back an angry sigh. She couldn't move half as quietly as him, nor as quickly, and he looked like he'd swallowed something sour every time she made a noise. He'd stopped speaking to her as soon as they left the room, but didn't so much as look at her for more than a second or two at a time until they were a good ten minutes' walk away from the town.

"Terence," she whined, tugging on his sleeve when he turned toward her. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I'm tired, and it's dark."

"You're not afraid of the dark," he said, lips curling into a tiny smile.

She pouted. "I just don't see what kind of experience needed me to sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night—early morning," she corrected through gritted teeth as he held a finger up.

He grinned at her. "I want you to meet someone," he said, taking her hand again and jerking his head toward the woods. "A friend of mine."

Eileen raised an eyebrow, then lit up as comprehension dawned. "Oh—you're going to show me your animal-taming skills like you promised ages ago, is that it?"

"They're not tame," he muttered, insulted. "And yes, I am."

"Ugh, Terence, why couldn't we have done this in daylight?"

"Because it would've been harder, and he looks better under moonlight anyway," he insisted, pulling her toward the woods. "Now keep quiet. I've never brought anyone to him before and I don't want you to ruin it."

"How could I—"

"Quieter, Eileen."

"Domnoddy," she hissed and he turned and smirked at her as they entered the woods. It was a full moon out, and good thing, because without a torch or candle it would've been impossible for Eileen to see a thing otherwise. Terence seemed to know exactly where he was going, and manage to walk without snapping a single twig, curse him. She picked up the hem of her dress and edge of her cloak with the hand he wasn't holding to better step over a log. The heavy material kept her warm, but also kept snagging on low branches and shrubs. He didn't seem to have the same problem with his cloak, curse him again. "What is this friend of yours?"

He glanced back at her. "A deer," he whispered back. "A stag."

"I've seen stags before, love."

"Not like this one," he muttered. "He's got pale fur. I've been steering hunting parties and patrols away from him ever since he was a six-pointer and now he's huge."

Eileen rolled her eyes and stumbled over a clump of mud. "Is that all," she breathed. He didn't hear her, or didn't care to respond, just continued to drag her along. She yawned and winced at the sound, rising on her toes to reduce the crunch of her footsteps.

They walked for what seemed like ages before Terence brushed aside a bush to reveal a break in the trees. Although moonlight had been spackling down between the canopy of leaves all along, in this round glen it pooled and almost shone against the ring of trees on the outside and the soft pink of tiny flowers dotting the grass. It was a lovely little hollow if she were to tell the truth, but still thought her bed would make a much nicer picture. "Terence," she hissed as he pulled her into the center of the glen.

"Shhhhhh. Be patient." He moved in front of her and took both of her hands, smiling at her like a giddy schoolboy. He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Wait right here. I'll be back."

"Terence!" she whispered again as he started to disappear through the trees.

He came back. "What?"

"You're leaving me alone, unarmed, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night?"

"…Oh," he said, as though he'd never considered it before. "Right." He returned to her side, drew his dagger, and pressed it into her right hand. "There you go."

"Yes, that'll be a lot of help if a bear comes along."

"Stop complaining, nothing's going to happen," he muttered. He wrinkled his nose and smiled at her, then vanished into the woods. She was warmed more by irritation-bordering-outright-anger more than her cloak for the next few minutes as she stood stock still and silently cursed her husband in every way she knew how. Then the sounds of the forest drifted back as she kept quiet. Owls hooted, twigs snapped, insects began whirring and buzzing, and she thought she heard something huffing nearby. The woods, always so friendly and soft in daylight hours and never seeming quite so large and threatening when Terence was at hand, were suddenly filled with danger.

Eileen shuddered, clutching Terence's dagger tighter and drawing in closer to her, glancing up at the night sky through the canopy of leaves as if the moonlight could protect her. The jest of a bear happening upon her felt much more real now that she was alone. She flinched the next time a branch break, and it was all she could do to keep from jumping out of her skin when an owl shrieked overhead. Her breath caught when she heard something in front of her, something large and looming. She held the dagger out in front of her, weakly, one foot inching backwards to stop her knees from trembling. She didn't know what sort of experience Terence was going for, but this wasn't—

Oh.

Oh.

The large, looming presence shifted into her little clearing. She noticed the dark, unmistakable outline of her husband's strong shoulders and outstretched hand, first, framed as it was by a silvery, shimmering shock of fur. She looked up past Terence's hand, toward the snuffling nose inches away from it, her breath catching again for an entirely different reason. The buck was enormous, the largest red deer she'd ever seen before, his shoulder squaring up with Terence's despite the squire's own not-unimpressive height. His coat was white, a white that almost seemed to glitter in the dim light, and for a brief moment Eileen wondered if the animal wasn't made of starlight. The antlers on his head were also huge, and the points—eighteen, nineteen, twenty, she counted quickly, and her mouth dropped open in awe. He huffed air out onto Terence's palm, and the two were close enough now that Eileen could hear Terence breathing with the stag, quick but deep breaths barely audible over the hum of life in the rest of the forest. When he saw Eileen, the deer stopped and jerked his massive head up, staring at her with big, dark eyes, almost as if challenging her presence in his forest.

But he did not run. For a split second he looked like he wanted to, but Terence reached out his other hand and tenderly brushed it along the side of his neck. The stag huffed again, still watching Eileen, and bent his head back down to Terence's open palm. The squire turned his head toward her, pleased with himself and clearly still in awe of the creature he'd befriended, eyes half-lidded, still breathing in time with the deer, looking more like woodland faery than any other time she had seen him. "Isn't he wonderful?" Terence whispered to her with a dazzling grin.

The dagger slipped out of Eileen's limp hand, dropping noiselessly onto the forest floor. "Terence." Her words were little more than a puff of air, barely audible. Her heart pounded in her ribcage as she stared, unable to tear her eyes from the hart.

Terence's grin widened. He turned back to the deer and stepped toward him, wrapping his arms around the great neck and burying his face in his ruff. He muttered something into the deer's fur, then drew back and reached up to stroke his ears. The stag bent his head further, grace in every subtle motion, accepting the petting as if he were a noblewoman's lapdog. His eyes however, still calm but trained on Eileen, gave no indication of tameness. "Terence," Eileen mouthed again, shaking her head slightly. The dark of the wood around them, the sounds of life teeming just beyond the shadows, the clearing dotted with tiny flowers opening under the full moon, the giant silver stag watching them silently beneath the stars—tears pricked her eyes.

The squire stepped away and turned his back on the great hart, who did not move. His eyes were glowing as he smiled at Eileen again. He grabbed her hand. "Want to feed him?"

"I—" she blinked, her bottom lip trembling. "I—"

"I know," he said, gently tugging her a step forward. "I felt the same way the first time I saw him like this. Come here." He drew her into a firm embrace, to the side of the deer rather than facing him, her back pressed to his chest. He wrapped his right arm snug about her waist and, with his free hand, reached into the pouch at his side and pulled out a handful of nuts and acorns. He manhandled her left hand open, palm up, and dropped the nuts into it. "Come on," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "One tiny step forward—" He moved his foot and she followed, clumsily, still unable to take her eyes from the buck even as Terence placed his left hand under hers so the stag could still smell him, and guided their hands toward the deer's nose.

The deer reached forward, and at the first snuffle of warm breath on her palm, Eileen gasped and reached for his hand at her waist with her free right hand, entwining their fingers when she found his. Her shoulders trembled in awe, and she was dimly aware of the feeling of Terence's silent chuckles deep in his chest pressed to her back. The stag lipped an acorn off her hand, then another, the crunch of teeth just an inch over her skin. His lips tickled her fingers, or perhaps it was the hair on his chin, or perhaps the whole scene, that made Eileen lean her head back against Terence's shoulder and shake with a near-silent giggle. The stag's ears turned toward her anyway, and he grunted quietly as if he disapproved of being laughed at. Eileen's knees went weak.

The stag finished off the nuts and nuzzled their hands as if looking for more. Terence tutted. "You know that's all you get, my friend," he muttered to the stag, releasing Eileen's hand long enough to scratch the stag's nose. He took her hand again and pushed it toward the side of the stag's neck, just under his cheek. She fiddled her fingers through the coarse fur, drinking in the feel of it.

This was apparently too much for the stag, who pulled his head out of reach and indignantly blew onto both of them. Terence chuckled and untangled himself from his hold on Eileen, stepping toward the deer. He reached up and rubbed the deer's snout, then his forehead when the deer inclined his head enough for Terence to reach it. Then he took a step back, huffed, and grunted again, lowering his head and nudging his antlers at Terence as if in challenge. Eileen felt a stab of fear beneath her awe, but Terence snorted and reached out to give the antlers a brief shake. The stag stepped back, then gradually led up to a full run, in a tight circle around the clearing, twice. Then, with a last glance at Terence and distrustful look at Eileen, he headed back into the trees. His bright white coat was the only thing that kept him from melting clear into the darkness. Instead, he glimmered and shone for several seconds before blinking out of sight.

Terence, grinning again, turned back to Eileen. "So what did you—mmmphh—"

His last words were swallowed in a furious kiss as Eileen threw herself into his arms, rising up on tiptoe to meet his lips, her fingers fisting the back of his cloak. He closed his eyes—she felt him smiling against her mouth—and kissed her back, holding her tightly, running his hands through the loose tie in her hair and drawing it out, casting the ribbon to the ground.

He pulled back, frustratingly, after that. "So you like it?"

"Terence, that was the most—that was—it—" She fairly whimpered, too full of emotion to form words, and pulled his head down for another kiss, deeper and more desperate than the first.

They lost track of how many minutes they stood there, kissing beneath the moonlight, before Terence felt Eileen shiver in his arms and remembered she was not wearing as many layers as he was. "We should, uh," he began, his voice low and husky, gently pushing her away. "We should get you back to the castle, before you catch a cold."

"Mmmm, you're probably right," she answered, suddenly fearful. It was so beautiful, so perfect under the night sky, framed by the dark of the woods. She wanted to cling to this moment forever—what if it didn't seem as magical when they returned? "Terence, the stag—Can we—could you—may I—"

"Do this again sometime?" he finished with a slight smile. "Maybe. I don't know. I don't want to expose him to too many people, or too often. Could be dangerous for him. But, love, I can promise you you won't forget him." He did that infuriating finger wriggle by his temple that she couldn't get him and Gawain to quit using when referring to his abilities as a dreamwalker. "Advantages of this. You'll have dreams of your meeting in vivid detail, down to the smell of moss and dew-damp fur, I swear. Just one night like this would be a poor prese—"

And she was kissing him again. He released her hair to cup her cheek, then flinched at the chill in her skin and stepped away again. "Castle. Warm. Fire. Now," he ordered, turning her bodily toward the direction of Camelot and giving her a little push.

She pouted, but started walking. She paused and barely stopped herself from jumping when, a minute later, he ghosted his way to her side and took her hand in his again. "Happy birthday, love, by the way," he said, smiling at her with a look of such pure adoration she ached.

Eileen squeezed his hand and they walked side by side out of the woods.