It had been three weeks since the night the Queen had taken back the 
Dark Court from Kevames.  It had been a swift attack, ending with 
Kevames' head on a spike in the Feast Hall.  It served as a reminder 
of what would happen to would-be upsurpers.
 


Doyle, although not bedridden, was not up to full strength.  Merry 
was secretly afraid that he would never completely recover.  She 
finally spoke of this fear to Frost one quiet afternoon.  Frost had 
smiled gently at her and told her that Doyle would physically recover 
from what had happened.  
 


"His heart still bleds, Merry.  It will until he knows what happened 
to Laurella, and may still then," Frost had said.



One sunny afternoon, Doyle sat in a rocker out on the big front porch 
of the house.  Frost leaned agianst the railing. They weren't really 
saying anything.  It had been Rhys' turn with Merry. Doyle had come 
out here, and Frost had decided to keep him company. And not think 
about another Sidhe being with his love.
 


"Can I tell you a secret, Frost?"  Doyle asked.  
 


Frost turned to look at his friend.  He raised one eyebrow and waited.
 


Doyle smiled.  "You have been watching too much Star Trek, my friend."
 


Frost burst out laughing.  "That is your secret?"
 


"No.  This is.  None of the others will get Merry pregnant, Frost.  
So don't worry about it.  Spring is coming, and I think spring is a 
fine time to conceive a child."
 


"None of the others..." Frost repeated.  "How can you know this, 
Doyle?  The Queen's ring showed all of us capable of fathering a 
child."
 


"Laurella was once a worshiped as the Goddess of Fertility for a 
reason, Frost.  Long before all of this began, I asked her for a 
favor.  I asked her to make sure you were the one who got Merry 
pregnant.  The next to last thing she whispered into my head was that 
she had done so.  She said the next time Merry was fertile, the two 
of you would create an heir."
 


"Doyle!  The Queen would execute you if she knew
about this."
 


"Let her," came Doyle's reply.  He closed his eyes and leaned his 
head back agianst the headrest of the chair.
 


"The next to last thing...  What was the last thing?"
 


"That I love him," came a soft voice.
 


"Laurella?"  Doyle whispered as he opened his eyes. 


 
There she stood, on the bottom step.  The sun shone all around her.  
It made all the greens of the forest stand out in her hair.  She 
smiled at Doyle.  "I'm here," she answered, "with you.  For as long 
as you want me.  The Queen decreed it, as reward for your loyal 
service over the decades."
 


Doyle was out of the chair in an instant.  He grabbed her up, one arm 
around her back, the other under her knees.  They both laughed 
happily as he swung her around and around in the sunlight.  Flowers 
blossomed at his feet, and butterflies filled the air.



The door to the house opened.  The others came rushing out to see 
what the commotion was.  
 


"Who?"  Merry asked.
 


"Laurella."  Frost answered.
 


"What of her pregnancy?"  Galen asked as Doyle sat her down.
 


"I miscarried."  Laurella replied.  Doyle looked at her.  "I didn't 
do anything.  The Queen thought it was because the child was 
conceived with force."
 


"That doesn't make sense,"  Rhys said bluntly.
 


"All I know is that she and I had a long talk one evening.  The next 
morning I began my monthly cycle as if I was never pregnant.  That 
evening, she decreed me free of Cel, and that the Geas was lifted 
from Doyle for me alone.  Then, she sent me here."
 


Doyle swayed slightly, having over excerted himself in the excitment.


 
"Okay, guys, show over," Merry said.  "Let's go back inside."
 


Frost went to help Doyle back onto the porch as the other guards 
trooped into the house.   He settled Doyle into the porch chair, then 
unobtrusively walked down the driveway.  He was on outside guard 
duty, so he couldn't go in the house himself, but he could give the 
the two privacy by checking the perimeiter.  When he finally saw the 
porch agian, he smiled at the scene.  Doyle was in his chair.  
Laurella was sitting at his feet, with her head on his knee.  Her 
face was turned up to look at his.  He was softly running his hand 
over her hair.



"Did you really say I was an airhead?"  Frost heard her ask as he 
walked away agian.



THE END