Greetings Readers! I'm sorry for the immense delay - grad school - but here is the next chapter! Enjoy!

Thanks as always, to CaptainOzone, beta of betas, and to jaqtkd for her feedback and Britpicking.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

On the hill at the corner of the street, there was a house.

It was a house that mildly embarrassed the adults that lived on that street. Not because it was ill kept or some sort of an eyesore or that the inhabitant was some loud delinquent that made them despair of sleeping at night or safely leaving their valuables at the house during the day. The old man who lived at the house was a perfect gentleman, a sweet man who kept to himself but was not above stretching out a hand to help a person move or patch up a scraped knee the children on the street seemed to acquire every time they played a rough game of football.

That was what made it all the more embarrassing that they were not aware of the old man and his house until the trees cluttering his drive had to be cleared away. The majestic old trees had to be cleared before the rot beginning to crumple the roots spread around to the other, younger trees, and as they were removed, a worn but lovingly tended pathway revealed itself. The man who was standing on the door step of the house that was at the end of the uncovered pathway smiled and waved, and neither didn't notice or politely ignored the looks of surprise on his neighbors' faces.

Of course, none of the neighbors wanted to admit they'd missed such an obvious thing as another house on the street, so most pretended they hadn't.

"Can you believe that old man was living behind all those overgrown trees all this time?"

"Of course," a usually mildly pleased voice would answer, "he's been there ages. I just never bothered him because I fancied he valued his privacy."

"Really?"

"Certainly," this was usually delivered with a smirk, "I know everything that goes on here."

For his part, the old man never made an effort to disprove the proud claims, and with time, those who bragged that they knew all along began to truly believe it. It had only taken a few months after the trees had been cleared away before the people on the street joked about the strange postbox on the tatty bit of fencing near the street with the casual nonchalance as though they'd been doing so for years.

"Nine and three quarters?" One of the visitors to the closest house asked with a raised eyebrow when she came over to discuss the church jumble sale.

"Well," her friend replied as she dug out the biscuits she'd been hiding from the children, "there's nowhere else to put it!" She chuckled with the worn laughter of one who'd heard and said the joke many times before, and that was the end of it.

It became something of a rite of passage for the children of the neighborhood to race up to his door step and knock furiously on the door, or ring the bell loudly, or (in a particularly infamous incident) drape multicolored streamers all over the path, the shrubs near the front door, and the roof. Children would brag to their younger siblings, their cousins, or the other children in school not fortunate enough to have prankable houses on their street corners of their impressive exploits.

Of course, for the sake of pride, they never mentioned that the old man was able to catch them at every single attempt. He never made an effort to frighten them or threaten them off his property, like the mysterious geezers in the films, but his ability to just appear beside them or be smiling indulgently at them as they attempted their schemes would scare them right out of their skin. In fact, the old man would give them tips on how to be stealthier, saying that he'd been ace at sneaking back in the day, and that with practice, they might be able to sneak up on him some day.

They never could, but that didn't mean their successors didn't try their best to do so.

Five years after the trees had been cleared, Merlin sat on the wooden bench outside of his house and watched as lights came on in the dining rooms and children rushed back to their homes. Most of the families were having their dinners now, and the children were answering their parents' calls to return. The younger children had to be called several times as they had been playing in front of Merlin's house. They'd been playing with soap bubbles, and Merlin always blew the longest-lasting bubbles that were fun to chase.

Merlin watched from his place on the bench as darkness began to fall over the street, the windows of the homes glowing with light. He smiled fondly at them for awhile, feeling the twilight beginning to settle around his shoulders, before he turned and walked inside.

Twenty minutes later, a young man walked out of the house, tightening the strings of the hood of his jacket, bringing the warm material closer to his face. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket to keep them warm, the young man walked down the path and into the street. He kept to the edge of the pavement, listening to the sounds and the smells of dinner emanating into the street. Merlin felt his stomach growl a little in protest at his not having eaten, but he only pacified it with the promise of a fry-up later in the evening before ignoring it and continuing on his way.

Once he reached the corner of the street, Merlin turned and walked until he arrived at the street two streets away from his house. Merlin stood on the corner for a time, silhouetted by the streetlight above him as his breath steamed out in white puffs in the cold air, before he made his way to a familiar house.

His eyes glowed for an instant, and he blended into the night. He was not invisible, technically speaking; instead his skin and clothes took on the colors of the night surrounding him. When he moved, it was as though there was some sort of rippling through the air; on the rare occasion that any saw such a thing, they would rub an eye furiously to clear it.

The family inside the house seemed to be finishing up their dinner. The mother was standing at the sink, steaming water already pouring from the tap, and the father was handing her the plates from the table. All that could be seen of the third family member from the window was a small, golden head bobbing up and down beyond the counter before a little head and arms pushed above the counter to push a handful of silverware into the sink.

"Thank you, Arthur," Mrs. Pennington said down at her little boy, who grinned proudly at her before she hugged him close with her non-soapy hand. Arthur snickered a little as her hand razed some ticklish spots and a sneaky gleam shone in his mother's eye. She swooped down without warning and began to tickle him mercilessly.

"Mum!" The giggling little boy looked beseechingly at his father. "Dad, help me!"

His father got a wicked look in his eye and the little boy, recognizing the gleam of mischievousness, shrieked with glee and tore out of the room. Tossing the drying cloth behind him, Mr. Pennington immediately pursued him, making a growling noise.

"Get back, bad guy!" Arthur cried valiantly. "I shall not let you pass!"

"Argh!" Mr. Pennington cried histrionically, and yelled in an aside, "Izzy, whose bright idea was it to buy our son a plastic sword?"

"I seem to remember it being yours," Mrs. Pennington laughed back, shaking her head as she pulled out the first soapy plate.

"Ah, right," Mr. Pennington replied. "I shall be hoisted by my own petard."

"Bad guys don't have petards," Arthur answered him knowledgably. "And they don't have swords either. Have at you!"

"Oh no!" Mr. Pennington yelled. "You'll never take me alive!"

There was a distinct thud in the other room, and Mrs. Pennington put her non-soapy hand to her forehead and groaned good-naturedly. "He's such a handful."

"Look at you," Hunith crooned over the small toddler as he proudly walked over to her from where he'd been sitting in his mother's lap. "You're such a big boy, now, walking all by yourself."

"Yes, but he's a handful!" Gwen laughed, watching her son walk over to his surrogate grandmother.

Hunith smiled at Alfred as he tumbled into her lap and looked with an almost wistful gaze at Gwen. "Young boys always are," she replied, "so I'm afraid you'd best get used to it."

"Was Merlin?"

"Was Merlin…" Hunith laughed. "My dear, imagine Alfred being the way he is – and also having magic."

Gwen's attempt to smother the overflow of laughter at the thought was none too successful. Merlin's attempt to glower at his mother from where he was sitting at the table in Gwen's chambers was even less successful.

"Mum!"

Hunith shrugged. "Well, it was true. I spent most of my time when you were just learning to walk chasing after you. And once you learned how to disappear and reappear in different parts of the house…" She looked at Gwen. "Just be glad he can't do that!"

The cloth of Hunith's dress was worn enough to be soft, and Alfred curled up on the floor, pillowing his head on the folds of her dress covering her knees. Both women looked fondly at the drowsy toddler and then looked back at each other. "Thank you for coming," Gwen said full-heartedly. "It's good to have another mother around. Sometimes I'm not sure I'm doing any of this right."

Hunith, ignoring royal protocol as she'd been beseeched to do, reached forward and enveloped the younger woman in a one-armed hug. "Dear, you're doing just fine. Trust me, that feeling will probably last – but it's worth it, isn't it?" Her smile turned a little poignant. "It makes the loss a little easier, at any rate."

Merlin looked determinedly down at the documents he was reviewing before the council meeting that afternoon, trying to give the two women some privacy. As soon as Hunith had heard about Arthur's passing, she had packed up a bag of her belongings and rushed over to Camelot as quickly as she could. It had about broken her heart to see the sorrow remaining in her son's normally bright eyes, and the grief in his friend's stature as she moved about the castle. Looking at the young queen, she could see herself in the months following Balinor's escape, wandering about almost in a daze and trying to find a purpose. Gwen had a kingdom to rule, and Hunith had found that she was going to have a baby.

But then Gwen was showing that same kind of glow Hunith had seen many times over in the village when the young girls and even some of the matrons of Ealdor were expecting; so she wasn't entirely surprised when Gwen blurted out the news during a fit of spontaneous crying one night when they were talking over the fire.

Gwen had apologized for the outburst, dabbing at her eyes and nose with a crumpled handkerchief that was on the table, but Hunith had taken the younger woman's slightly shaking hand and squeezing it. "It's the moods," she had soothed. "No woman can help that."

"I'm scared, Hunith," Gwen had bitten her lip. "I'm excited, but I'm scared. I don't know how to do this."

Hunith had reached forward and held Gwen close. Merlin had told her that Gwen's mother had died when she was very young, and her father had never remarried. It was frightening for any woman to have a baby and be a mother, but it was even more frightening to do so without a mother to guide her. And Gwen didn't even have the memory of her own mother to guide her.

So it had been a very natural thing for Hunith to offer to stay through Gwen's pregnancy to help her, and a very natural thing for Gwen to eagerly accept the offer. Hunith had been around as a support for Gwen for the next several months, but had been called away to help deal with an illness in Ealdor just days before Alfred was born.

Gwen had not named a godmother for Alfred to share the responsibility with Merlin, but Hunith had become the young prince's grandmother in all but blood.

A light snoring could be heard, and the women and Merlin looked over at Alfred, who had fallen asleep on the comfortable bundle of skirts. "I suppose the excitement must have tired him out," Hunith smiled, brushing the blonde fringe out of the little boy's face. "Is it about time for his nap?"

"His highness," Gwen teased laughingly, "does not take naps when his mother wants him too, necessarily. But this is his naptime, yes."

Hunith lifted Alfred's head up, and Gwen scooped him into her arms as Hunith pulled her skirts out of the way. Gwen smoothly walked over to her bed and pulled back the covers with one hand as she supported Alfred with the other. Hunith smiled at the sleepy look on the little prince's face, remembering the look of another towheaded prince, although he'd been much older and asleep on her floor at the time. She turned to look at where her son was in a half-standing position near the table and sighed.

The poignant look in his eyes and the slumping of his shoulders made it painfully obvious that he was remembering him too.

Merlin moved smoothly to the window looking into the living room, where the Penningtons were all sitting on the couch. Arthur was sitting between his parents, his head lolling onto his father's lap next to the picture book, his hand still firmly clutching the plastic sword. Mr. Pennington put the picture book on the coffee table and looked over at his wife. "Looks like we wore the warrior out."

Mrs. Pennington yawned a bit and grinned. "You sure? I feel like it's been the other way round."

With a peck on his wife's cheek, Mr. Pennington carefully got off the couch and pulled Arthur into his arms, the little boy's arms dangling by his sides. Mrs. Pennington stretched out onto the couch a little as she watched Mr. Pennington walk down to Arthur's bedroom and go inside.

Merlin watched the progress with a pang in his heart. He'd been watching over Arthur ever since he'd brought him to the Penningtons, but he wished he could do more than just watch. Arthur's safety and well-being were very important, but Merlin hungered for the interchange between the two of them, like they'd had before. Even though Arthur wasn't going to be the same – he was much younger, had two parents, and seemed to be growing in a household of open affection – Merlin missed being able to talk to him.

A few minutes passed before Mr. Pennington came back, the plastic sword in his hand. "Warrior's got quite a grip. I had to pull this from his hand before I tucked him in."

Isabel yawned broadly and rested her head on her husband's shoulder after he sat down beside her. "He's gotten so big…it seems just yesterday that we got him." Her voice got a little thicker and she took a deep breath. "And now he'll be going to kindergarten."

"He'll be fine," Edward soothed, wrapping an arm around her and rubbing one of her shoulders. "He'll be better than fine – now he'll have more people to have sword fights with."

Isabel hit his shoulder. "Edward! Now I see where he gets it from."

Her husband grinned unrepentedly and kissed her temple. "Izzy," he continued, "he's going to do just fine."

Isabel nodded before yawning again, and Edward turned her face to his. Merlin slipped back into the darkness and began heading back to his home, the grumbling of his stomach all but ignored as ideas began to take form in his mind. A pleased smile began to crease the corners of his mouth and as he turned the corner he knew what he had to do the next day.

~.~

Merlin felt ruefully at the soreness of his freshly shaved chin as he sat down behind the teacher's desk and looked at the empty classroom. He had gotten to the school especially early to get the classroom ready, expecting the other teachers to be walking outside of his classroom door. However, all of the teachers seemed to be fully occupied in preparing their own classrooms for the first day of school, and so he was able to complete all of the preparation with magic in under a minute.

In all the jobs he'd had over the ages, he had been a teacher a few times, although it had been several decades since he'd last had a teaching position. Even so, he'd knew he'd been lucky to get the job at the school in Arthur's city with such little fuss. The last Reception teacher had just had her baby, and the members of the school board had been frantically looking for someone to fill in her place. The timing had been more than perfect for Merlin, who had been snapped up as soon as he'd entered the school's main office, resume and references in hand.

Merlin had heard the slightly skeptical sounds of the office staff as the headmistress looked over his resume prior to the interview. He had made himself a little younger than himself as Albie, although not by much, and so was in his late fifties as he sat in the chair opposite the headmistress. His trainings and certifications had all been up to order, and the interview had gone smoothly, the applicant speaking calmly and modestly even as the experiences he had had permeated every word that he spoke.

The headmistress could see the spark of a good educator in the older man's twinkling eyes, and despite his age, shown in the grayness of his short-cut hair and beard and his near constant grip on a gnarled wooden stick, she had hired Mr. Henry to be the new Reception teacher.

The hall began filling with the colliding sounds of eager young voices and Merlin walked over to the classroom door, pulling it open and keeping it in place with a colorful doorstop. He ran an appraising eye over the four large tables in the classroom, the bright but empty places on the wall to be filled with the children's work, the clean windows on the one side of the room letting in the cool sunshine, and nodded before facing the onslaught of children.

First came in a pair of twins with their mother, one clinging tight to her mother's hand and looking nearly terrified and the other tugging the mother forward, jabbering excitedly. Four little boys who lived in the same neighborhood were issued in by their older siblings, who were all wearing the school uniforms and varying levels of martyred expressions. A blonde little girl followed them, nearly tripping headlong into the rubbish basket by the door, and her mother bent down to rescue her with an amused but practiced air. She was followed by a boy holding tightly to his rucksack, whose mother had to gently prod him forward, and three chattering little girls flanked by their three chattering mothers. Merlin was about to announce himself to the entire class when a plastic sword shot through the door, punctuated by a disapproving feminine gasp.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Pennington began, taking the hand that did not have the sword while pushing the sword down with the other. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically as she brought her slightly pouting son into the room. "He recently got this sword and I've had no end of trouble trying to get him to put it down."

Some of the mothers looked disapproving, but the mother of the blonde girl laughed nodding her head. "I have the worst time getting Ellie to put down her horse toys whenever she gets a new one."

"Mum…." Ellie responded in a aggrieved groan, but the other girls suddenly crowded about her.

"You have horses?"

"I love horses too!"

"You should come by my house, I have a whole lot of them! You should bring yours, too."

Ellie looked much more pleased as the girls crowded around her, and all of them began giggling excitedly. The boys bunched a little closer together, to get as far away from the girly madness and as close to the fellow manly sanity as they could.

Some of the older sisters giggled at the proud look in Arthur's face as he continued to hold the plastic sword, and the glances they were shooting at their younger brothers indicated they'd seen such strangeness before. "Sir?" One of the older girls asked, turning to Merlin who was watching the whole affair with an amused look. "We have class soon…"

"Go on, young ladies," Merlin replied, smiling. "I think I've got this from here." As the older students rushed out of the classroom and to their own rooms, he addressed the mothers. "If you'd like, I can have a meeting with all of you when you come for the children in the afternoon."

The mothers nodded, some of them looking ready for a bit of a break before carrying on with their schedule of the day, and said goodbye to their children. The girls hugged their mothers tightly back, but Arthur and the other boy whose mother had dropped him off bore the affection with looks of heroic patience. And Arthur still never let go of his sword.

~.~

The school day had gone smoothly so far. The children were just putting away their lunch bags in the cupboard and were going back to their seats to look at him from where he was standing by the chalkboard. It did not go unnoticed by Merlin that the children were getting antsy, jostling about in their chairs and full of energy. He glanced appraisingly out the window to see the bright sunshine shining through and closed his eyes, hiding the glow, as he reached out to see the temperature. The brisk morning had turned into a pleasantly warm, sunny afternoon, and it seemed a real shame not to take the opportunity when it came.

"How about," he began, leaning his forearms on the desk and smiling at the kids, "we have the rest of school outside today?"

The children cheered and began to jump up and down, and it took a good several minutes to calm them down enough to shepherd them toward the cupboard so they could grab their coats. As they were distracted with the various zips and buttons, Merlin gestured towards his desk and the papers and book he needed flew into his hand along with his gnarled wooden cane. The lights turned out with a blink, and the class made its way outside onto the playground.

The playground was not much more than a few swings and two slides, but the rest of the area was large and grassy . Except for a few fruit trees planted by the Year 3 students five years prior, there was only one tree, which was a large oak tree in the center of the lawn. Merlin sat down beneath the tree and watched the children run around. The girls settled themselves on the swings and started talking about their horse toys, and the more shy of the two twins, Pam, started to try and braid Ellie's hair like she'd seen her older sister do. The boys were playing that seemed like a variation of cops and robbers, although Merlin had yet to see a version that relied prominently on sword fighting. The boys had promptly found the best sticks fallen from the fruit trees and were doing battle with them, but Arthur was still leading the way with his plastic sword.

It had been an interesting thing to make Arthur separate from his sword, but Merlin had eventually managed it. Forcing him to put down the sword when he remembered that trait of Arthur's back in Camelot was surprisingly difficult, but he was a well-behaved little boy and so eventually stored the sword in the cupboard with his jacket and lunch sack.

Merlin let the children play for a little while before he looked over his papers. They had managed to get through introductions and learned a bit more about their letters and numbers earlier. The children, thankfully, had all been eager to learn, although not as eager to sit down while they were learning, and so far they'd all gotten along swimmingly. The day was drawing to a close, but Merlin had just over half an hour before the children would begin to be picked up, and so he had one more thing to do.

"Come in, you lot!" he called, standing up, bracing himself against the tree, and cupping his hands around his mouth. "It's time for our story before you go home!"

The girls pulled themselves from the swings and came over, giggling, before collapsing in a heap at his feet. Wincing a little at the dirt gathering at the hems of the uniforms and certain he would be hearing about that later from their mothers, Merlin guided them into tailor-sitting in a half-circle around the tree trunk. Seeing that the boys had completely missed his call to return, or were pretending they had heard no such thing and were continuing their battle between good guys and bad guys, he walked briskly over to them, his cane leaving slight marks in the soft earth.

"Lads," he called over the din of wood and plastic knocking together, "it's time to come in now."

Five of the little boys put down their sticks reluctantly, but continued to watch as the fifth kept swinging his plastic sword about. They grinned with appreciation as he darted through the air, his sword arm aloft and waving. The grins merged into faces of apprehension and horror as the sword flew out of Arthur's hand, and headed towards the teacher, who had turned to walk back to the tree.

With a nearly effortless motion, Mr. Henry brought his walking stick smoothly behind his back and parried the plastic sword's blow. The plastic sword fell to the ground without any injury, and all the boys' mouths dropped. "You're a fine warrior, Arthur," Mr. Henry said with a smile. "But you must learn to listen as well as you fight."

With no more preamble, Mr. Henry turned back on his way to the tree, and all the boys gave each other big grins. They didn't have some girly teacher, Mr. Henry was cool!

"Sit down, everyone, sit down," Mr. Henry said briskly, sitting tailor-style with his back against the gnarled bark of the tree. "Now," he began, watching as the children looked towards him, "I brought out a book to read to you, but I wondered if there was any story you'd like to hear."

"I want to hear a war story!" boomed one of the boys, with a big grin across his face.

One of the girls, a brunette named Mary, folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. "Well, I'd like a love story."

The girls giggled as one while the boys gagged with disgust.

"I'd like a story," the shy Pam popped up, "with lots of adventure! One that's funny!"

"One with knights!" Arthur loudly proclaimed, backed up with the robust agreement of the other boys. Maybe they'd been playing some game with knights.

"All right," Merlin smiled, leaning back against the bark and listening to the catch in his back pop. "I can tell you a story that has a little of all of these things. It's about a group of knights, and a round table."

"Ooh!" Ellie bounced up and down. "Are there princesses in it?"

"A few," Merlin smiled, "in fact, they were the ones who helped the knights manage to get the table in in the first place…"

"…I was never quite sure why they decided to make such a big table before trying to get inside such a little door," Merlin confided in an aside to the children who were sitting in a ring around his stool. The children sniggered a little, most of them having heard stories of the knights before and drew closer.

Noticing that a few of the children were shivering – although the new room in the tower he'd received when he'd been appointed as the court sorcerer was spacious and generously furnished, it had a tendency to become cold – Merlin reached back and with a golden gleam and a whisper and the fire grew larger in the grate.

The children oohed with delight and clapped at the sight of magic. Merlin smiled at their intrigued reactions, not quite believing how the opinion towards magic could have changed so drastically in the three years of his being court sorcerer.

"Did you use magic, then, Uncle Merlin?" Alfred said eagerly, rocking back and forth.

"Of course," Merlin grinned, "but of course your father didn't know it at the time. He and the knights all thought I'd found a particularly strong sort of potion in Gaius' chambers that put it back together. They never cared to find out what kind of potion it was, they were just glad it didn't smell!"

Different noises of sympathy and disgust came from the group of children. A mix of servants' children, tradesmen's children, and noblemen's children, they all knew the terrible taste of Gaius' medicines.

"But that was how the Round Table was put together," Merlin finished with a nod.

"The second one!" The butcher's son cried out.

"Yes," Merlin smiled proudly, "the second one."

"Could we have another story, please, Lord Merlin?" The cook assistant's daughter asked.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, children. If I heard that bell right, it's about time for lunch. You lot had better get down there before all the food is gone!"

There were squawks of disappointment but also of hunger, and the children pushed themselves to their feet. Alfred pushed himself up to his feet but wobbled a little; he'd had trouble sleeping the night before and had been a little listless all day.

"Alfie?" a quiet voice called, "Alfie, are you up there?"

"He's up here, Samantha," Merlin called down to the prince's nursemaid. "He's just looking a bit tired."

"Am not," the young prince countered indignantly, although the effect was somewhat lessened by the large yawn and the sluggish rubbing of his eyes with his hand.

Samantha tutted slightly as she appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath from the long climb up. "You certainly seem to be so. Come on – it's off to bed with you."

"But I'm hungry!"

"I'll have a snack ready for you when you wake up," the nursemaid promised, scooping up the small boy into her arms. "But you need to be awake enough to enjoy it."

"'Kay," Alfred replied drowsily, "is Mother going to come in?"

Samantha smiled, although the young prince could not see it from where his head was resting on her shoulder. "Of course," she replied, "she's just wrapping up the meeting as we speak."

"Bye, Uncle Merlin," Alfred called, waving sleepily over his shoulder as the nursemaid moved slowly through the door and down the stairs.

Merlin smiled after him for a moment before turning around and looking at his room. With a sweep of his hand, the cushions that the children were sitting on flew into an open cupboard, which closed behind them. He looked around at the various bookshelves littered with odds and ends as well as books that lined the walls before settling his gaze on a wooden table filled with vials and bowls of bubbling potions. He pursed his lips slightly in thought for a moment before striding forward, the long cloak he had come into the habit of wearing billowing out behind him.

Stretching out his fingers, a vial of a curiously frothing purple concoction flew into his hand and he held it up towards his safe, wafting the aroma towards his face. The smell was bitter, almost poignant, and reminded him of a time where he sat across the table with a similarly odious potion. He and Arthur were both supposed to drink from the vile brew, and yet the prat was willing to let him suffer the first tasting…

Merlin's eyes began to blur and he slowly returned the vial to its place on the table, before turning his gaze to the open window. He stared out at the kingdom he and Arthur had labored for so long to build, and that he and Gwen had finished together.

"Merlin?"

The court sorcerer shook himself from his stupor and turned to face the doorway of his room. There stood a beautiful woman that he had not seen in some time. He bowed. "Your highness."

"Oh, Merlin," the lady countered, shaking her head. "There's no need for that formality, we've known each other far too long."

"Very well," Merlin grinned cheekily, "Mithian. It's good to see you."

Mithian came forward, looking as beautiful as Merlin had ever seen her, with her brown hair tied into an elegant knot at the back of her head and her gown flowing as she walked. "It's good to see you, too," she smiled as she came closer.

Merlin reached down for her hand and kissed it, remembering how the smoothness of her skin felt beneath his lips. Mithian shook her head slightly at the courtly gesture, although she was smiling, and stepped forward to embrace him as he released her hand. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her tight. "It's been a long time, Mithian."

"Far too long," she agreed, stepping back and giving him a good looking over. "You look well, although I'm not sure about that beard."

"What?" He said, mock indignantly, stroking the beard in question. "Don't you think it makes me look rather dashing?"

"You don't need any help to do that," Mithian replied, raising an elegant eyebrow and causing Merlin to flush a little."

He shook his hand. "That's neither here nor there. What brings you here, Mithian?"

With a wave of his hand, he brought forward one of his more squashy chairs and gestured towards it. She sat down and let out a breath of satisfaction. "The meeting got out a bit early and Gwen said you were up here reading to some of the children. I thought I'd come up and say hello, for old time's sake." Her face grew a little more serious and she looked towards the bench he was sitting on pointedly. Taking the hint, Merlin brought the bench over to where he was standing with a whisper and sat down upon it. "She's a bit worried about you, Merlin." Mithian confided. "She says you've been keeping to yourself a little more, staying up here so often."

Merlin's eyes grew guilty. "Does she need any more help and she hasn't been telling me? I wish she wou—"

"No, Merlin. You've done enough – more than enough, I dare say," Mithian assured him. "She says you have been a real blessing. She doesn't think she could have done it without you. And don't shake your head –" she gave him an affectionate glare, "—because I see you're about to. You've never given yourself enough credit."

Merlin shuffled his feet a little, reminding her of how he'd been when they'd first met. And of how they'd been whenever they'd been close over the years, shy and a little sheepish. "I'm not sure I deserve much of it, if I'm making her worry."

Some might have been appeased by the explanation, but Mithian knew Merlin far too well to be fooled. "Merlin," she began, moving her chair closer, "you can't still be blaming yourself for his death."

Merlin took a deep breath and maintained his gaze on the floor, giving Mithian all the answer she needed. Ignoring protocol, Mithian abandoned her chair and sat beside him on the bench, rubbing his shoulder. "Merlin," she repeated, "it's not your fault. You tried. You saved Camelot."

If things had been like they were three years before, Merlin might have turned to her and held her close, feeling the soft solidness of her body and the warmth of her breath against his shoulder. Perhaps, she would have kissed his neck and then his lips, in the way she had when she and her father had come for Arthur's funeral. Despite there not having been a body to bury, a memorial had been held for Arthur after Gwen had been crowned Camelot's ruler. Merlin had stayed, tall and brave and strong, beside Gwen during the ceremony, gripping her shoulder tightly as she fought back the tears. However as soon as the ceremony had given way to a sedate meal, Merlin had slipped away to hide his own grief in the shadows of the castle's corridor. And it was there that Mithian had found him.

He had tried to hide his tears from her, but she had had none of it. Instead her fingers brushed away the wetness of his cheeks, her heart aching at his palpable suffering, and then tentatively, nervously, brushed her lips against his. She had been terrified of his reaction – ever since she had returned to Camelot when her father was in danger, she had been more aware of Merlin's courage, bravery, and handsomeness, developing a strong feeling for him – but he pleasantly surprised her by responding to her kiss, pressing back with fervor and wrapping his arms around her back. The two kissed until they were gasping for breath and then simply clung together. Merlin had begun to shudder, even though the day was quite warm, and Mithian held him tighter, brushing her lips against his neck and shoulder, praying it would bring him some relief.

As time had passed along, the two of them had tried to maintain the relationship, but the distance between Camelot and Nemeth proved too much. Eventually the relationship dissolved, but their friendship had remained as strong as ever. Mithian could trust in him to protect her, and she prayed that he knew that she would support him no matter what.

"Please," she whispered after a time, "won't you come down and lunch with us? Your potions and books can keep for a while."

"Very well," Merlin replied, pulling back and smiling gratefully at her. "I am starving, and Gwen would never let me hear the end of it if I missed it." He stood up and held his hand to her. "At any rate, this gives me a chance to check out this husband of yours."

"Merlin!" Mithian shook her head as she took his hand and stood up. "There's no need for that – you gave poor Thomas enough of a scare the first time you met him." Her eyes sparkled, as they always did when she talked about her husband. "And you liked him fine enough when we were courting."

Merlin shrugged, grinning mischievously. "Yes, yes, he's a good man. Never think I've seen a man jump so high!"

"He was justified!" Mithian argued back, laughing. Merlin joined in with her peals of laughter with his deep chuckling, and the sound followed them as they walked down the stairs.

~.~

"What's the matter, Mrs. Pennington?" Merlin asked, surreptitiously pushing a box of tissues closer to the edge of the desk. Arthur's mother did not look like she was about to cry, but she seemed troubled and Merlin preferred to be prepared.

It was after class on the third Thursday after term had begun, and Mrs. Pennington had come to the classroom to pick up Arthur as she always did. Today, she'd been a little later than usual and looked a little harried. After looking at her, Merlin told Arthur that he could go play in one of the activity corners and bid his mother to sit down.

"It's nothing really," Mrs. Pennington said. "It's just – I'm in a bit of a dilemma and I'm not sure what to do."

"Go on. Talking may help," Merlin smiled.

"It's one of the neighbors," Mrs. Pennington replied, "she recently had a bad fall and is having to stay in her home while the break in her hip heals. They're not sure if they have to replace the hip or not." She sighed. "Her daughter is coming into town to stay with her, but she can't stay on Thursdays. She works for an online company and they only require to come in on that day a week. We've known Mrs. Cann for some time and so I asked her daughter if there was anything that we could do. She asked if we knew anyone who might be able to sit in with her and make sure she doesn't overexert herself on Thursdays." Mrs. Pennington smiled. "She's quite a headstrong woman, won't take no for an answer, so it's quite a job. And then I was a fool, and said that I would do it without thinking first."

Merlin smiled warmly at her from across the desk. "I'm not sure how that is a mistake, Mrs. Pennington. It seems like a very kind thing to do, in my opinion."

"Thank you," Mrs. Pennington replied. "But that means I'm rather in a mess about what to do with Arthur on Thursdays. It's perfectly fine for him to stay with me in Mrs. Cann's house, but I'm not sure how I can pick him up. My husband has our only car during the day, and I don't want to leave Mrs. Cann if I can help it anyway. She might get up and accidently injure the joint again." She shook her head. "I should just tell her daughter I can't, but I don't like going back on my word. I'm not sure what to do."

Merlin put his chin on his folded hands and thought for a moment before opening his eyes with a smile. "Mrs. Pennington, your family lives near Wimpole street, I believe."

"Yes," she nodded. "Why is that important?"

"I live in a house on that street," Merlin replied, "and I walk here and back every day. If you'd like, I could always walk Arthur to Mrs. Cann's before I head home myself."

"Oh!" Mrs. Pennington's eyes lit up. "That would be wonderful. Arthur speaks very highly of you, so I'm sure he'd agree. But that wouldn't put you to too much inconvenience, would it?"

"Not at all," Merlin assured her. "Arthur is a fine boy, and I need all the exercise I can get."

Mrs. Pennington looked at the trim frame of her son's teacher and couldn't stop the little burst of laughter. Intrigued, Arthur came over. "Mum, what's so funny?"

"Oh nothing, dear," Mrs. Pennington answered. "Would you mind very much if saw you home for the next few Thursdays?"

"Thursday comes right after Wednesday," Arthur stated proudly – they'd just reviewed the days of the week in class that morning. "That's okay with me. Mr. Henry's cool; I like him."

And so that was how it came to be that the Afternoon Walks began.

A/N: Can you see where I might be going with this? *grin* I hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading, and please review! They make me happy and can improve my writing.

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