At midwinter the King rode alone to his hunting lodge in the high forest, sending away his knights and even his friend, the sorcerer Merlin.

Peace and unity in the kingdom had come at a price, and every day Arthur fought to lighten the burden on his court and his people. But after many months of struggle he wanted only to be alone, to find what little hunting there might be, and rest, and think.

"The high forest is dangerous, sire," said Leon, the chief of the knights. "Let us go with you. We will leave you to your thoughts if you wish."

"No," said Arthur. He gathered up his red cloak. "I want to be alone." He gazed at each man in turn, honesty and plea in his eyes. "I fought in battle with each of you. You know me. I can take care of myself."

The knights retired. Merlin, the sorcerer with his sharp face and his strong, slender hands, lingered in Arthur's chambers.

"Why are you still here, Merlin?" asked the King.

"I'm going with you."

Arthur sighed. "Not this time."

They argued, and people in the passage outside heard their raised voices. Nobody knocked or called out to be sure of the King's safety. Since the great battle, the King had been a hard man to please, and besides, everyone knew that for all his magic, Merlin carried a kind heart, and would never harm the King.

At last Merlin sighed and said, "Then at least let me put on your cloak." Arthur huffed, but stood to allow his friend to cast the scarlet silk about his shoulders, and gently fasten it at his throat. "Be careful," said Merlin softly.

Arthur glanced up at Merlin's face, but could not keep his gaze. "I leave you Regent, old friend," said Arthur.

"No, leave Leon," said Merlin, and they argued again.

The forest lay knee deep in snow when Arthur emerged from the tiny wooden lodge on the third day. He shouldered open the door against the drift, gave fresh grain to his horse and went hunting on foot.

There was not much to be had, only a few rabbits he had snared. He did not bother to reset the traps today, for he had already as much as he would eat. To take more would only upset the balance of provision and need, and since the great battle where Merlin had revealed his powers and overgrown the enemy, Arthur had been troubled by enough unease already.

He wandered among the firs, relishing the silence, the lack of colour in the world. He had exchanged his red soldier's cloak for plain brown clothes under a bearskin jacket. He was no longer a king, only a man. The idea soothed him. He was beginning to think he might never go back.

He was standing, one gloved hand on the cracked bark of a pine, when the outlaws attacked. Three men with axes and wild eyes leapt from the trees and rushed at Arthur, screaming.

He had no idea why they were here but there was no time to consider it. He drew his sword and prepared for battle.

He slew the first man, but the second caught Arthur's sleeve with his axe, and Arthur stumbled under the blow and fell. Snow filled his nostrils and he flailed, scrabbling desperately for his sword, which lay somewhere beneath the snow.

The two bandits advanced upon Arthur, laughing gleefully. They raised their axes -

-And a mighty howl tore the chill forest air.

A wolf, a full grown pack leader, burst from the trees. It hurtled at the scene, and sprang. Arthur rolled aside and got a glimpse of claws the length of his thumb, and teeth like blackthorn. Viciousness blurred past him in a rush of silver fur, and then the bandits were being torn apart, screaming as the great wolf bit and ripped.

Arthur jumped to his feet. Still no sword. He grabbed a branch and waved it, ready for when the wolf fixed its deadly eyes on him. The first, then the second bandit fell dead in the wolf's jaws, and Arthur resisted the tremble in his legs as the beast circled around, growling, rage in its deep blue eyes.

The wolf lowered its head and wiped its bloody muzzle on the snow. Arthur gripped the branch, not that it would do much against the forest's most dangerous predator. "Come on then," he cried out. "Finish it. I'm barely a man these days anyway."

The wolf threw back its head and howled, a protest, a demand. The sound echoed so loud that Arthur threw his arm over his face. When he lowered it once more, the wolf was gone, and naked on the snow lay Merlin.

"Good god." Arthur dropped the stick and ran to his friend. "Merlin."

Merlin shivered and curled up. There was a scratch along his thin shoulder, which dropped scarlet into the snow.

"You're a wolf," Arthur said, treating of his coat. He got his arm about Merlin and lifted him, draped the coat around him.

"I had to follow you," Merlin said. "It's not right, you here alone. Not in this...mood." He smiled weakly. "This shape... I had to be something strong, as strong as the worst thing out here. A wolf."

"So long as you're Camelot's wolf."

"I'm your wolf."

"Hush," said Arthur. He wrapped Merlin tight in the bearskin coat, and bore him, fainting, back to the lodge. There he lay Merlin on the hearthstone, and crouched waiting for him to wake, which at last he did.

"I'm your wolf," Merlin said again, his eyes fluttering open.

Arthur nodded, gripped Merlin's uninjured shoulder. "I know."

"And more," Merlin whispered.

That was the harder thing to acknowledge. But Arthur must. In fairness to their years of friendship, he must. "And more," he repeated in a low voice.

Merlin's lips formed a faint smile, and then his eyes closed once again.

Relieved, Arthur got to his feet, to fetch fresh water and build up the fire.

"You fought my battles for me," Arthur said.

Merlin sat, still in the bear skin, cradling a mug of hot broth. "No," he said.

"Yes. Every victory, every strategy... I thought I was brilliant, but every time it was you, hiding my mistakes, protecting me, defeating my enemies while I wasn't watching." Months of bitterness escaped Arthur, and he threw aside his own broth. "You tricked me," he said. "You made me seem great when I'm no better than any other dupe of your magic."

"No," said Merlin.

"You robbed me of my, my dignity, of myself," Arthur said.

Merlin reached out his hand towards Arthur. Arthur flinched away from the touch. "You are a great king," Merlin said. "A great warrior. "

"Ha."

"But the enemies ranged against you had magic. You did not. I only evened the odds a little."

"Why?"

Merlin withdrew his hand. "For the love of Camelot," he said. "And of you."

"I do not want your love," said Arthur.

Merlin ducked his head. He sighed, and gazed into the flames. "I know."

Arthur sprang up and went to tend his horse, and Merlin made no move to follow him.

An hour in a stable warmed by horse breath and horse belly is good for calming a troubled mind. Arthur leaned on his house's neck and rubbed his hands over the beast's nose. The snow was falling again outside and there would be no return to Camelot tonight.

The rabbits needed skinning for the pot. There was grain enough for the horse for a week, and skinfuls of ale. The lodge - more of a hide - had comfort suitable for a hunter, or a soldier, and Merlin was no less tough than he.

Arthur sighed and slapped the horse, which nuzzled him. Arthur spoke a few words of soothing farewell, and returned to the lodge.

Merlin, now in Arthur's other breeches as well as the coat, was stirring the pot. "I've done the rabbits," he said.

"Don't ever deceive me again," said Arthur.

"Then ask for my help when you need it!"

They stared at each other.

"All right," said Arthur.

Merlin's eyes went wide the way no wolf's could ever do.

Arthur gestured at him to sit. They each found a spot on the low bench in front of the hearth. "I will ask," Arthur said. "But you must let me take responsibility for Camelot. It is for me to rule."

"It is for me to protect you," said Merlin.

Arthur gave him an irritated glance. Then he sighed, and reached for the mug of broth, now refilled and sitting by the fire.

"You were the one person I trusted," said Arthur. "With my greatest secret. Yet you couldn't trust me with yours?"

"I'm sorry," said Merlin. "You know I am sorry. I have been sorry for six months and all that has happened is I've seen you become more and more miserable each day."

"That's what happens when someone lies to you," said Arthur.

Merlin' eyes flickered in anger, and for a moment Arthur saw again the dangerous eyes of the wolf. "Then why," said Merlin, "did you only grow sad after I told you the truth?"

There was a pause. They both knew the fury of their arguments. They had quarrelled so often these last months, and frequently over so little, that to fight now over this fundamental point seemed as perilous as treading a frozen lake.

Arthur, of course, was made for peril. "I was ready to give you everything," he said. "The night of the battle. I would have given you my kingdom. But you were not there."

"You know where I was. I was preparing to defeat -"

"You should have told me! Before the battle, as I told you!"

"I did tell you," said Merlin. "I stood in your tent and told you what was in my heart."

"I mean the magic!" Arthur threw back his head in despair, the cup forgotten once more. "What's in your heart is magic. But where I trusted you in everything, you still held back."

Merlin said, "I'm telling you now. And since you've made it clear that you have changed your mind about my heart, we should stop. We're friends, Arthur. You are my king. I cannot make you a certain way."

"Yes, you can," said Arthur bitterly. "You could. You could make anyone do or be anything."

"But I wouldn't," said Merlin, "and that's the point." He sighed, and reached for some holly boughs Arthur had dragged into the lodge. "The sun is at its least," he said.

"We welcome the return of the sun," said Arthur automatically.

Merlin lay the first bough beside the fire, then began adding ivy and mistletoe.

"Let me," said Arthur. "Your scratch-"

"Healed," said Merlin, but Arthur's hand was already on his shoulder, pushing away the fur coat. Arthur's skin was cool.

Merlin's was hot. Arthur withdrew his hand, then shook his head, and ran his fingers over Merlin's soft black hair. He saw the flame of magic bloom in Merlin's eyes, and under his touch Merlin's hair seemed to be the thick silver pelt of a fierce and powerful wolf.

Arthur shivered. "Tonight is the longest night," he said, the old Yule ritual.

"From tomorrow the days grow brighter," Merlin replied. He smiled at Arthur, and Arthur's fingers knew Merlin's own silky hair again.

"All right," said Arthur. "But-"

"I am not a pet," said Merlin. "You cannot tame a wolf."

Merlin reached up and took Arthur's hand from his hair, and lightly held it. "I am what I am. And what I am is for you, as much or as little as you want. But I cannot change."

Arthur clenched Merlin's fingers in his. "Nor can I. I must fight my own battles."

"You must use what weapons you have," said Merlin.

"I will make my own strategy," said Arthur firmly.

Merlin gave a slow blink.

Arthur sighed. "Must we always argue?" He turned Merlin's hand over in his, and traced the lines from fingers to wrist, to where the smooth pale skin disappeared under the furry coat sleeve.

"I have just lost the urge to quarrel," said Merlin, his eyes gleaming.

"Forever, I hope," said Arthur.

Merlin said, "For tonight."

"Lucky it's the longest night," said Arthur. He dropped Merlin's hand, and swiftly gathered Merlin to him. Merlin tilted his head, and was amazed when the King hesitated.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm never afraid," said Arthur.

"But still, if you were, I am here." Merlin touched his knuckles to Arthur's cheek, and the contact sizzled with affection, and magic.

Arthur saw loyalty and love bright in Merlin's eyes. He saw frosted pines, and the pale winter sky, and paw prints in the snow. He glimpsed, he longed for freedom. "My wolf," he said, wondering.

"My king," said Merlin, and smiled.