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The old badger sat in his place by the hearth, staring into the pot that always simmered there. The small heat provided by the small fire was just enough to keep the worst drafts from his small hall, but his joints still protested against the enforced inactivity of the season. He had spent his entire life ignoring the small tickle in the back of his skull, but still he could feel it grow more insistent. He grumbled and harrumphed into his bristly chest, but eventually lifted his head.

More firewood, he thought to himself as a weak excuse and pushed himself to his feet, refusing to groan at the ache in his bones. He stalked to the door and pulled his thick, matted wool cloak over his shoulders. He unbarred the door and pushed it aside, stiffening as the bracing winter air warred with the pitiful warmth at his back, and quickly set the door back into its place lest any more heat escape. He looked towards the woodpile sheltered around the side of his hall, but knew he had plenty still inside to last until the morning, and now that he was out in the cold he didn’t relish the thought of needlessly hauling more in.

Instead, he looked across the frigid landscape. There was a small forest at his back, an icy cold stream trickling by on his left, and rolling scrubland as far as the eye could see everywhere else. The gray afternoon sky sapped what little color the featureless world had, and threatened to bring the first proper snow of the season. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose to let the flinty cold air obscure the itching in his head that was growing almost unbearable. When he opened his eyes again there was a figure on horseback marring the landscape, just cresting one of the low hills a mile distant and approaching with an easy trot. The badger grumbled again, but stood motionless and waited.

The rider’s horse didn’t stop or even slow down until it was a mere stone’s throw away, and before the rider could speak the badger filled his lungs and mockingly called, “A wolf on horseback?”

The horse’s tail flicked absently, but otherwise rider and mount were motionless. The horse gazed disinterestedly into the distance, but the wolf’s yellow eyes stared unblinking down at the badger, and he felt the itch in his skull turn to an electric jolt along his entire spine.

“Are you Myrddin?” the rider finally asked.

“A she-wolf!” the badger cried with the same dismissive asperity, revealing just as little of his inner thoughts as the wolf did.

The rider gave no reaction. Eventually, she swung her leg over the horse’s back and dropped lightly to the ground with a metallic clank that belied the chainmail under her thick cloaks.

“My name is Heledd. You will train me,” she said. A simple statement of fact.

Myrddin scowled his fiercest, but inside he crowed with self-mocking laughter. He was impressed already by this strange she-wolf, so yes, gods help her, he would train her.

—

Heledd leaned upon her sword and panted loudly in the early spring humidity, tongue hanging out inelegantly. She was spattered in mud, singed by magefire, and the fur around her mouth was pinkish with blood where she had been caught by an unexpected blow.

The she-wolf makes a poor lady, Myrddin caught himself thinking fondly as they both tried to catch her breath after their latest sparring match. A few short months ago she could barely swing the sword she had stolen from who-knows-where, but she was progressing at a terrifying pace. Whatever awful thing drove her - destiny, fate, magic, sheer stubbornness - left no room for propriety. Three and twenty summers, and still chasing childhood dreams. No wonder most of the dandy fools at her father’s court were so hostile towards the horse-riding warrior-princess.

“Enough for today,” he said shortly, trying to disguise his own exhaustion to maintain his eternal warrior image in the eyes of his student. He tossed aside the gnarled branch he had been using in place of a sword.

Heledd staggered upright and wiped her mouth with the back of a paw. “When are you going to teach me to use magic?”

Myrddin glowered and spat forcefully. “Magic. What do you want magic for?”

Heledd frowned thoughtfully. “My enemies will use magic against me, as you do.”

“Just because I use it doesn’t mean I want it. I use it to teach you to kill the Dread Lord, which is what you asked of me. If you want to kill a sorcerer you don’t try to meet them where they’re strongest, you just get close and stick them in the belly.”

She stared back with her keen, wide eyes, weighing his words. Then she nodded, accepting the truth of them.

“If we had a lifetime,” Myrddin said, and hesitated at the renewed intensity of her gaze, which rang like a bell inside his head. “If we had a lifetime,” he continued less harshly, “maybe I could give you more than this. But as we are, I can’t give you everything you need in time.”

She absorbed this thoughtfully, and nodded again. “Then you will have to give me what you can, and I will do for the rest.”

He was dumbfounded at first, then laughed loudly and stepped forward to throw an arm around her shoulders, and she grinned toothily back at him. “Very well,” he said, punching her arm none-too-softly with his free paw. “Tomorrow, I use a real blade. But right now, we eat.”

—

Heledd was quiet - quieter than usual - and seemed to chew each bite of her food endlessly. At last Myrddin could take it no longer, and he tossed his bowl aside in disgust. Her attention snapped to him instantly, but he could see there was still something else hiding behind her eyes.

“Are you going to say it yourself? Or do I have to move your jaw for you to form the words?”

Heledd blinked, in a rare moment of surprise, and in spite of himself Myrddin felt a brief flash of pride that he could manage to affect her like this. What’s become of me, he wondered, that such a small thing could bring such pleasure. He pointedly did not think, What has she done to me.

She heavily swallowed her food, and set her own bowl gently aside. “It’s time for me to leave,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

Myrddin snorted and looked away as well, glad that she had broken first. “Of course it is,” he said, pretending the gruffness in his voice was intentional. “I’d say you outstayed your welcome about two seasons ago.”

She chuckled quietly, and his breath hitched at the sound. He cleared his throat to cover it up, and stood. “I have something for you.”

She lifted her head to watch him, as he walked to the far end of the hall. He knelt and rummaged in one of his many chests, and when he rose he held a scabbarded sword, wrapped in fabric. He stood awkwardly in front of her for a moment while she waited patiently, then thrust it towards her.

“Here,” he said simply.

She took it gingerly, allowing the loose, soft fabric to fall away from the hilt. “Is it… magic?” she asked, almost reluctantly.

Myrddin’s jaw dropped. “You think I-? Of course it’s not magic. You can’t trust a weapon with a mind of its own. It’s just a sword.”

Heledd, reassured, grabbed the hilt and half-drew it. It was, indeed, just a sword. Simple, unornamented, but expertly made and well cared for.

“The best one I have. A bit lighter than the one you’re used to, and the speed will help you. You use it how I taught you, it’ll get the job done.”

Heledd stared at the blade wonderingly, then reverently slid it back into the scabbard. She stood, and Myrddin fumbled for something intelligent to say under her intent gaze, some useful piece of advice, a final bit of wisdom, but all he could do was mumble, “Make sure you learn its weight before you try to use it.”

Heledd threw her arms around his broad chest and buried her face in his rough, gray fur. Myrddin gasped and stiffened, but when she didn’t let go he gently wrapped her in his arms and pulled her closer.

“I’m proud of you,” he said hoarsely, and rested his chin between her ears. For the first time since she had arrived the insistent pounding in his skull softened to a gentle purr, and he knew he had done what he must.

There was a quiet sniffle, and Heledd inhaled deeply before turning her face so she could speak. “I’ll come back,” she whispered.

Myrddin squeezed his eyes shut. Sentimental fool, he accused himself, and couldn’t deny it, because he had been fighting the urge to ask her to return. “You just worry about staying alive,” he said instead.

She pulled back, and stared fiercely at him through watery, bright eyes. “I will come back,” she repeated, daring him to doubt her.

He nodded, and there was a lump in his throat as he said, “I know you will.”

She pushed herself back into his embrace, and he tried to memorize the feeling of her slight, powerful frame in his arms.

—

The old badger sat in his place by the hearth, staring into the pot that always simmered there. The small heat provided by the small fire was just enough to keep the worst drafts from his small hall, but the smoke of it had also banished every other cherished scent. He had spent an entire year pretending he didn’t feel the small tickle in the back of his skull, trying not to let it trick him, but now he thought he could feel it grow more insistent.

He slowly straightened, and forced himself to slowly rise to his feet, slowly pull his cloak on, slowly push the door open and step outside the hall. He was greeted by the same empty, winter dulled landscape as always. He closed his eyes, inhaled, pretended that he hadn’t been fooled into hope by the itch in his skull. He had just needed more firewood. When he opened them again, there was a rider cresting a distant hill, the horse nearly staggering, and the figure on its back slumped forward.

Myrddin threw off his cloak and ran.

The horse stopped as he approached, and he saw it shivering with exhaustion and cold, but he didn’t spare a moment’s thought for it. The rider’s face was so heavily wrapped and their head so deeply hooded so it was hard to tell where they looked, but they shifted just slightly, as if to raise an arm, and slipped from the saddle.

The rider groaned in surprise and pain, but Myrddin was there to catch them before they could fall too far, and their familiar scent flooded his senses.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Heledd,” he said soothingly, gently sinking to the ground with her.

“Myrddin?” she mumbled, muffled by weariness and pain and the cloth that wrapped her face, and turned her bright yellow eyes towards him.

“I’m here,” he said, desperate to pull her tight but terrified of what injuries she could have. “You’re safe now. You can rest here until you’re healed.”

“Myrddin,” she repeated, quietly, softly, like a prayer, and he nearly choked as a sound like a river roared in his skull. “Like you taught me.”

He shook his head in confusion, and she shifted beneath her cloaks, then held out an arm that was wrapped in rusty bandages and spotted with angry burns. It trembled with the strain, but firmly gripped in her paw was the blackened hilt of the sword, the blade beyond melted away just a few inches above the guard.

“It did the job,” she rasped.

He stared at the ruined blade blankly, then looked back down into those eyes, tight now with pain but still as keen as ever, and knew she grinned beneath it all.

“I told you I’d come back.”

—

Myrddin had despaired of ever seeing her again, but now that she was back, he despaired of her surviving the winter, or even the night. Her shield arm was relatively unscathed, protected as it had been, but that was the only part of her. Where she wasn’t cut she was burned, and beneath what fur hadn’t been burned away she was one massive bruise. Various ribs and a clavicle were broken, she’d lost several teeth, and there was almost nothing left of her right ear. She was malnourished, dehydrated, and feverish when Myrddin carried her wasted body inside his hall, and he silently wept as he laid her on his bed.

She drank the warm water he gave her and fell into a fitful sleep, and she did not die that night. In the morning he fed her thin gruel, spooning it gently into her mouth so as not to pain her missing teeth, and all the while her wide yellow eyes were fixed on his face. He almost thought he could read something in those eyes, but she was feverish and hardly aware of her surroundings most times, and he did his best to ignore it.

The old itch in his skull was more like a drumbeat directly on his brain now, a frantic war rally, but what good could all his magic do? He forced it aside to clean her wounds, to help her eat, to stand vigil when the fever tremors shook her for days on end.

She barely spoke except to say his name. “Myrddin,” she would whisper in the middle of the night after a fever fit had passed, and he would jolt awake to bring her water and porridge while she was well enough to eat. “Myrddin,” she would moan in the morning, wracked with pain, and all he could do was sit by her bed and let her grip his paw while she continued to groan his name in her delirium. “Myrddin,” she would mumble awkwardly in the afternoon, and he would drop the dressings he was cleaning to help her attend to her necessities.

Days, weeks, moons passed this way. Her body healed as the winter lengthened and then waned, but it wasn’t until spring made its first tentative incursions that the recurring fevers finally began to subside. And then one morning he woke up from his bed on the floor beside her to find that she was already awake and watching him. She smiled weakly, and reached out a paw to touch his cheek.

“Myrddin,” she murmured.

He swallowed, transfixed, drowning in the yellow pools of her eyes, and his head roared like it would burst. She was scarred and patchy and weak, but she was alive, she was healed.

“Heledd,” he breathed.

She gently rubbed the rough gray bristles of his face. “My savior,” she whispered, “My Myrddin,” and he wept again to see her without pain for the first time since they had parted.

He helped her sit up, and when the dizziness passed helped her off the bed. She was too weak to stand on her own, but he supported most of her weight as they walked outside together. Her horse galloped over and shook himself with joy to see her alive after so long, and she laid her head against his muzzle and stroked his ears.

“Thank you for taking care of him, too,” she said.

Badger and horse eyed each other warily. “He mostly took care of himself,” Myrddin admitted. The horse snorted as if he understood, and bowed his head back down for Heledd to continue scratching it.

Myrddin watched them for a while, then tried to sound lighthearted as he said, “I’m sure he’s eager to get back to his comfortable stable.”

Heledd stiffened momentarily, then said, “Mm.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and forced himself to continue. The roaring in his skull wouldn’t be denied until he had completed his duty to her. “Now that you’ve healed, I could find a way to send word to your father. I’m sure he’d be glad to hear his daughter is safe, and they could send a carriage to carry you home to recover your strength.”

Heledd didn’t look at him, just absently continued stroking her horse’s neck. She nodded. “If that’s what you think is best.”

Myrddin clenched his jaw and cursed himself, but didn’t say any more. When her legs began to tremble from exertion he helped her back inside, to sit down next to the hearth, and he sat down beside her to share the warmth.

“I’ve been a terrible burden on you,” she said quietly, after staring into the fire for long minutes. Myrddin’s stomach dropped, and he turned to look at her, but before he could find words she continued. “I’ve forced myself into your hall twice now, twice taken all you would give, and twice given nothing in return. I will not continue to burden you, if you want me to leave.”

“Heledd,” he said hoarsely, unable to hear any more, and she finally looked up from the fire. “I would give it all again. All of it and more, if you asked. Even if you didn’t ask. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I would never be apart from you again if I could.”

Her eyes widened and flashed with a warm light from the small flames, and his skull roared again as he glimpsed an impossible future in them.

She leaned closer, and he opened his arms to her so she could fall against him. She buried her face in his chest as she had once done and inhaled deeply.

“Gods, I missed you,” she said quietly.

“And I missed you. I feared I’d never see you again,” he admitted, and patted her on the back in what he felt was a paternal way.

She took a few more breaths, then tilted her head back and licked the underside of his jaw. Myrddin froze, then pulled away from her, and she watched him curiously.

“Why?” he stammered, and held out an arm to fend her off as she leaned towards him again. “What are you doing?”

“I know you feel it, too,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I can see it in you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he lied.

She smiled at him, such an unmistakable smile, and he was helpless. “Yes you do,” she said, lifting a paw to caress the back of his head. The thing in his head responded like a loyal pet, calming its tempest at her touch. “In here, the same thing that drives me. I knew it was never about the Dread Lord, it was just an excuse to bring me to you.”

It would be the easiest thing to give in, but he had a long lifetime of practice at stubbornness. “You deserve better than someone like me,” he said weakly, even as he tilted his head into her caress. “What about that prince you’re supposed to marry? You’re to be a queen.”

“There is no one better. No prince, no lord, no king. If fate decides I must be queen as well, then our hall will be my court.”

“I’m old, Heledd,” he said, voicing the greatest of his fears in a tiny voice. “I don’t know how many years I have left to give you.”

She considered this carefully. “Then you will have to give me what you can,” she said in her blunt way.

Myrddin’s arm fell away, and Heledd was on him in an instant. He fell upon his back with her atop him, and she shoved her nose into his fur, inhaling his scent deeply. “Oh, gods, you smell good,” she moaned, and began to lick his neck, then up his jaw to his cheeks.

“Heledd,” he gasped in disbelief. “My Heledd.” He grabbed her head in his paws and pulled her up to expose her throat, and she hissed in pleasure when his teeth gently closed on her. His paws trailed down her neck to explore her back, slipping under her tunic and feeling her soft, still-patchy fur under his claws. He nibbled and licked up to her face, and as they panted and lapped at each other Heledd began pulling her tunic off.

She sat up over him, and he laid back to witness her. He had seen every inch of her before, but never in health. Never like this, never for him. She smiled playfully at his worshipful gaze, then arched her back and moaned as he traced his rough pawpads over the row of her nipples.

He could feel the weakness in her arms as she pushed and pulled herself around, so he raised an arm to support her and rolled them over, careful of the fire, until she was on her back. She panted and nodded gratefully, and once she had her breath back she tore at his tunic until he yanked it off for her. She grasped at his bristly bulk, pulling and gripping and rolling her paws wildly in her fervor to know every inch of him.

Myrddin let her explore while he lowered his head to her abdomen, licking up her stomach, careful to avoid any burns that may still be sensitive. Her claws dug into his broad back, and she twisted and writhed when he suddenly dragged his tongue over one of her nipples. He gripped her waist in his paws and suckled and licked and rolled his pads over her sensitive buds in alternating sequence so she could never expect where he would attack next, and she chuffed and whined and gasped helplessly.

“Please,” she begged at last. “Gods, please, I’ve waited so long, I can’t wait any longer.”

He could smell the truth of her words, and he fumbled at the knot on the cord of her trousers, but in his eagerness he couldn’t get his claws to cooperate. When Heledd let out a soft, desperate moan, he bent his head down, took the cord in his teeth, and tore through it. He heard her laugh quietly, then she gasped as he tugged down on the trousers and the cool air of the hall kissed her exposed crotch.

Myrddin mouth was watering, but he made sure to carefully pull her tail and legs free of the trousers before throwing them aside. The soft fur of her thighs was slick with her desire, and he felt warm dampness on his cheeks when he pushed his muzzle between them and inhaled deeply. Heledd yelped quietly at the cold touch of his snout against her hot spade, but it turned into shuddering moans when his tongue darted forward and swiped along her puffy lips.

There was no holding back, the smell and the taste of her overwrote every thought, and he drove his tongue forward again and again, savoring the warm, salty juice that flowed endlessly across his muzzle. He was dimly aware of claws on his head, pulling him further in, and his tongue dove inside, exploring the shallows of her passage. He lapped at her folds and rolled his tongue up over her clitoris, and Heledd shook and howled and kneaded her paws across Myrddin’s scalp and ears.

Finally it was too much for her, and she dragged his head up by force. His eyes slowly swam into focus and met hers, and he jolted back to full awareness. She dropped her trembling arms to her sides as the lingering tendrils of her ecstasy subsided, but her eyes were as clear and brilliant as ever.

“Please,” she panted. “Please. Please.”

Myrddin scrambled to remove his trousers like an adolescent boy, clumsily digging a deep furrow in his thigh with his own claw in the process, while Heledd watched in amusement and hunger. At last he was free, and his member stood proud. Heledd stared at it, similar in size and color to the wolf members she had seen, but more bulbous towards the head, and without the knot at its base.

Myrddin leaned over her and thought to ask if she was sure she wanted this, but then he saw the look on her face and knew it would be wasted breath. Her eyes were full, and soft, and ravenous, without a hint of fear or doubt.

“I love you, Heledd,” he said instead.

She smiled, and she didn’t need to say it for him to know it, but she did.

“I love you, Myrddin.”

He somehow felt an even greater torrent of need in his loins, but it was nothing compared to the triumphant explosion in his skull, or the heat that filled his chest.

Heledd’s jaw gaped in a quiet gasp, and Myrddin buried his face in her neck as he entered her. She offered no resistance, she was open to him heart and soul and body, and he took her invitation gratefully. Her silken folds rippled along his length as he parted them, and her hips lifted to meet his when his bristly fur came to rest against her spade.

He lifted his head when he could go no further, and felt himself twitch and flex deep in her warmth. Heledd trailed a paw down, and gently explored where the two of them were joined, fingering her outer lips and teasing the base of his member. He groaned at her touch, and met her mischievous eyes.

She inhaled at the emptiness as he drew back, and moaned as he pressed forward again, learning the shape of him inside her. Her eyes never wandered, and he was ensorcelled by her gaze. She licked at his muzzle, and he thrust again, and they gasped together.

Both her paws were between her legs now, one playing at her clitoris and the other smoothly guiding his passage in and out. His speed increased with her touch, and she bucked her hips to meet each thrust, desperate to take him as deep as possible. She was overflowing, spilling onto the floor between them, and Myrddin had to clench his jaws tight to avoid growling and snarling with the fervor of his passion.

He grunted and fought against the rising tension in his groin. He knew he was growing close, and he couldn’t bear to allow this moment to end, but she continued to stare deep into him with that smile on her face, and he was helpless to slow his movements. He was hers, she was his, and they would take every bit of each other they could. He shifted his legs and began thrusting faster, harder, and she shivered and arched her back and whined as he plunged into her, and the sounds and smells of their passion filled the hall, and they both panted with an exertion beyond any they had felt during their fiercest training, but she still wouldn’t release her hold on him.

Eventually he noticed a slight wince in the corner of one eye, and her panting had an occasional hitch in it, and he knew she had pushed her still-healing body further than she ought. She took a deep breath and nodded at him, and her spell was broken. He growled savagely and made several short, rapid thrusts, and then felt himself release inside her.

Heledd gasped and cried out, half in pain, half in joyous pleasure. Her paws were still between her legs, and she could feel Myrddin’s member pulsing beneath her pads. He grunted and shivered mindlessly when she cupped his tightening testicles, and she felt a briefly renewed torrent of warm seed flow into her. She dropped her head back, panting, and waited for her lover to recover.

Myrddin came to his senses a few moments later, and realized his mouth was full of fur. He quickly released his jaws, which had clamped down on one of Heledd’s shoulders - her good one, he saw with relief. “I’m sorry,” gasped between breaths, brushing her fur aside to make sure he hadn’t broken skin, but she just smiled at him and closed her eyes.

He pushed himself up to take his weight off Heledd, and found that one of her paws still held him inside her. He sat back slowly, gently pulling out and hissing quietly as his sensitive tip slid free of her accommodating sheath. She mumbled sleepily, allowing her arm to fall back to the floor by her side, and a trickle of their shared fluid dripped from her puffy spade onto the base of her tail.

Myrddin sat staring at Heledd’s exhausted form, then ran a paw down his face and looked towards the ceiling in disbelief. Something nagged at him, and it took him a while to realize it was in fact an absence that perturbed him. The itch in his skull was gone.

He heard Heledd shifting and looked back down to see her turning herself around so her head was near his lap. He shuffled closer and helped her until her head lay across his thigh and they were both facing the fire again, then gently pet the top of her head.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

She grunted softly as she shifted into a more comfortable position. “Mm. It was worth it,” she said at last.

Myrddin frowned a little, and sighed. “Shall we have something to eat? You need to get your strength back.”

“In a little while,” she mumbled, and pressed her head into his paw for more pets.

Myrddin felt himself dozing off as he stared at the glowing embers, but was startled awake when Heledd shifted again. “Hey!” he said, as she pulled herself further into his lap. “What are you-?”

“Just want a taste,” Heledd murmured, and wrapped her muzzle around the soft end of his member that was still exposed from its sheath. He gasped at the sudden warmth on his sensitive tip, and laid a hand on her back.

“You’re insatiable,” he groaned. “Careful, I’m not as young as I used to be” Despite his words, however, he felt himself stirring again, and soon his head tipped back as he grew fully from his sheath into her mouth.

Heledd didn’t have the strength for anything vigorous, so she just let the hot, salty length lay along her tongue and suckled gently on it. It was plenty for Myrddin, who was exhausted himself, and he just stroked Heledd’s head and reveled in her languid attentions.

“Don’t fall asleep down there,” he told her.

She hummed something in response, and his member twitched and tightened at the vibration.

“And don’t talk with your mouth full,” he teased, and earned a renewed bout of indistinguishable humming that sent further thrills straight to his core.

“Gods,” he said quietly, as the minutes stretched on. He was scratching gently behind the remains of her right ear as her tongue rippled slowly along his length, “I think I could get used to this after all.”

It briefly sounded like Heledd was choking in his lap, and he started to panic before he realized she was laughing, and he smiled too.

He soon found his hips involuntarily trying to thrust against her muzzle, and he knew he would be ready to spill again soon.

“Heledd, my love,” he said, and her eye opened to look up at him. “It’s coming soon.”

She closed her eye again and smiled around his member, and hummed in response. Myrddin bit his lip at that, and with a grunt he dropped his head, loosing his seed in her Heledd’s muzzle. She moaned quietly, and he watched her swallow it as well as she could. She let his member rest in her mouth while it twitched and leaked, then gingerly pulled her head away. Myrddin sighed as he was exposed to the hall’s cool air again.

Heledd shifted back down to lay her head on his thigh again, and looked up at him expectantly.

“I’ll take that food now.”

—

The old badger and the she-wolf sat in their places by the hearth. The pot simmered away like always, but they ignored it, staring instead into each other’s eyes. Their small fire gave off only small heat, but with two of them in the small hall, the chill of winter never seemed to penetrate far. The badger’s joints still ached at times, but they had more than enough activity to keep themselves occupied during the long, dark months. The she-wolf laid one paw on her slowly growing belly, while the other gently scratched across the back of the badger’s head. The scratching grew more insistent, and they both grinned, and stood together.