A/N: This story is moving really slowly, I know. Thank you for those of you sticking with it.

I am so, so, so, so sorry for this chapter.


Camelot's streets are busy. Carts and clutter and crowds. Leon has walked up and down this row a hundred times. A thousand times. It's never felt like this before.

Well, that's not true. Years ago, when he was just barely moving up from squire, he had to deliver news to a woman in a small room. Had to her that her son was dead and she was alone. That's what this feels like, as he walks the streets from door to door to door, locating victims of a curse.

"She came home and looked at me like I was a monster. It didn't matter what I said or did; how hard I tried to fix it. She couldn't… Like I was a monster, Leon. Finally she went back to live with her mother. Took the kids with her. Lords… what am I supposed to do?" That was Quinn, another knight. He's from a strong house with a proud heritage, and his wife had been a scullery maid. Arthur hadn't cared. Arthur had supported it. Apparently, Osric hadn't.

"Came home with a bruise on his cheek, Leon. Said the master of house suddenly hated the way he stood. They fired him. Leon, they fired my little boy because he stood too straight. I'm already working two jobs, all day every day, but we just can't afford anything anymore. Can't pay the rent. Jarin's threatened to kick us out more than once. If Robin doesn't get another job soon, we'll have to leave Camelot. I don't know where we'll go. It's just us. Henry died two years ago, you remember. We don't have any family left. Where are we meant to go?"

Story after story after story. Leon stands at doors and listens. Puts names on a paper.

Osric's only been there two weeks. How could he upend half of Camelot in two weeks?

"She's starving herself, can't eat when she's supposed to be working. She's always working. She watches children for families all day and night, stays there while the parents go to work. Sir, she won't eat. 'Too much work to be done,' she says, and she makes food for the kids but she won't touch it because it's 'not hers to touch'. She's never done this before, I don't know what's wrong. Sir Leon, you have to do something, please. Talk to her for me, maybe she'll listen to you."

Leon's steps grow heavier and heavier. Finally he just take it anymore. "I'll talk to her."- "I'll give him a job."- "You can stay with me."- "I'll put in a word with the innkeeper."- "This soup is wonderful, you're a great cook."- "You're not a monster."- "Don't worry, we'll find her, I'm sure she'll come home. I'll let everyone know to be on the lookout. I'll ask everyone I see. I'll find her, I will. We will. I promise. Please don't cry."

Story after story after story. He'll probably go home to find a party of people because he can't seem to turn anyone down. It's possible not all of them were affected by the curse. That some of these are just everyday stories. Everyday misfallings. As a knight of Camelot it's his duty to serve the people. Does he need an invitation from some curse? Shouldn't he have noticed before now?

"And then he just snapped right back to normal," he says.

"What?" Leon hadn't been expecting that.

The man shrugs-the owner of the best tavern in town and several of the inns. "He's a rambler, you know, and doesn't know his own strength—tends to break things. I think he was a blacksmith before he was a butcher. And for a few days there he got real quiet, keep apologizing for everything, kept freaking out whenever he broke something or misplaced something. Kept begging me not to lose my work, and then one day I walked in and he was just normal again. Big and loud and proud. I figured he was having a rough week or something."

"What's his name?"

"Bill. Butcher shop called 'Ribs to Spare'."

The shop is exactly what Leon's expecting. Dirt floor, wood walls, a sign over the door. "Bill?" he asks, walking in. Marching in. He has a job to do.

There's a burly man at the counter. "That's me," he booms. Big and loud was right.

And suddenly Leon doesn't know quite how to ask. 'Has anyone been behaving strangely lately, anything unusual been happening, maybe people you know growing scared or angry? Maybe you, yourself?' That's what he's been asking at doors. It doesn't fit for some reason. "Did you perchance open a small stone box?" Leon makes the box with his hands.

Bill's eyes widen. "That's a strange thing for you to know." There's meat on the counter in front of him, red and raw and bloody. He goes back to cutting it. "Lord Osric brought it by. He must have just gotten it or something because he was real excited to show it off."

Leon can feel his face lifting. "You opened it?" he asks, because he has to be sure.

"Yes," says Bill with a shrug.

"Did it… affect you in any way?" Another weird thing to ask and Leon's not sure how. "Maybe things around you started to look different?"

Bill stops cutting and looks up with a squint. "How on earth would you know that?"

"So it did? They did?" Leon has to be sure.

"Well…" Bill bears around the corner of the counter, slamming against it as he stops to lean. "It was like everything got real intense for a while, you know? Sounds and people and feelings."

Leon nods. "And how did it stop?"

"Well…"


Percival feels heavier than usual. Sitting on the bed between the stone and Merlin, trying not to look large. It's a failed effort, but Merlin doesn't seem to mind him as much as he minds Leon and Arthur. Elyan had suggested it was because of their birth right. Something Osric said about common-born knights.

Gwen is sitting numbly next to Percival, head in her hands, staring at the wall. She was staring at Merlin but Merlin kept eyeing her and shifting and looking all around uncomfortable so she moved her gaze over to the wall and it stuck there. She sighs.

Percival sighs.

Merlin shifts. "We should be working, shouldn't we? I don't… We should be working?"

"We're fine," Gwen murmurs. It's not the first time she's had to reassure him. "Arthur's ordered you not to work until we fix this, remember?"

Percival doesn't know how she manages to stay so soft and patient in her voice. And then his eyes roll over Merlin as he glances past her to the door—Merlin nervous and small, sitting straight now, at least (he really seems to clear once Arthur leaves)-and suddenly Percival does know. "Bet you've never had so many days off."

Merlin shakes his head mutely. He stands, hauling to his feet and slapping his hands together. "I think we should be working, what do you think? Lots to do, helping Arthur fix the curse and all that."

"Sit down," Gwen murmurs softly, still staring at the wall.

Merlin sits and taps his fingers, making noises as he moves his mouth around, staring blandly toward the door. And then his eyes move up to the stone and narrow. "I'm sure there's something we can do." He reaches up, stretching forward, tilting forward more than rising, "Let me see it."

Gwen holds out a hand and gently pushes him back. Merlin slumps. He starts tapping his head back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling, hands moving restlessly—knocking on his legs. "I really think we should be doing something. I feel… I'm quite sure of it, actually. So much to do."

"We're fine," Gwen murmurs.

Percival's leg is growing numb. He shifts. Tilts toward the stone as he moves his feet. That's when the lid jumps off.


Leon runs into Gwaine on his way to tell Arthur the news about the curse. Gwaine runs into him, more like; notices him running and moves to run beside him. "What'd you find?"

Leon shakes his head, too breathless to respond more than, "I think we can fix this."

Gwaine broadens his stride, sprinting even faster, "Well come on, then!"

Arthur is in the library. Should be, anyway. And, yep. Leon can hear him yelling. He crashes into the room with Gwaine just as Arthur shouts, "What are you doing? You're not supposed to touch it!"

The form across from Arthur is instantly recognizable. Percival skitters backward from the king, shaking his head a little. He's got a hand clamped down on the lid of the stone box, keeping it closed. "It already opened on me. Gwen too. We want to help you, Arthur. We're here to be of service."

Oh no.

Gwaine frowns beside Leon. There's a drifting weight about him that Leon doesn't like.

"Are you drunk?" Leon hisses at him.

"No," Gwaine says, offended or disgusted or something. He sways.

"Gwaine!"

And that's when Leon realizes that Percival is staring at them. "It's not his fault," Percival mutters, eyes wide, form trying and failing to not take up much room. "All this curse business. But we'll fix it. We'll fix it for you. Me and Gwen and Merlin. Don't even worry about it. Sorry you had to worry about it."

Arthur has his head in his hands. "Oh, lords."

"Right," says Percival, voice little, "Sorry you had to worry about it, my lords."

Arthur folds, resting his elbows on his legs as he presses his hands to his eyes. "I hate this."

Gwaine tips forward. Percival moves to catch him. The box falls.

Leon watches it go toward the floor, form tense. It hits the ground on its side but stays in one piece.

Leon relaxes, watching Arthur do the same across from him.

Arthur lets out a breath, "Well that was—"

The lid flies off.