"I know you think she's a good match, father, but must we really wait so long for me to marry?"

Uther blinked to wakefulness at the sound of his brother's voice, whispering, on the other side of the tent.

"It isn't a question of waiting, Constans, but of being willing to do what you must for the good of the kingdom. There is no one more strategic than Adaire, and with Inthorn allowing his younger daughter to train with the High Priestesses when she is of age, whoever marries Zosia will hold perhaps the most strategic castle in the five kingdoms. From there, we could hold off Mercia and Essetir from a single fortress."

Uther could see his father and eldest brother sitting close together. His father was a strong man, but Constans took after their mother, wiry and willowy. It would be a mistake for someone to think that Constans was weak for his thinness, but the father and son cut a strange silhouette in the early morning light. Uther could smell the forest outside their tent, the familiar scent of horses and sweat, and he knew it was only a half-days ride to Carneath, one of the oldest castles in the whole of the land, held for generations by House Adaire, currently headed by the strong, if reclusive Lord Inthorn.

Uther would have liked to have stayed home, but King Constantine had decided that the best way to impress the seriousness of his position was to bring all three sons to meet Lord Inthorn, to show respect. It didn't matter to Uther one way or another whether Constans successfully earned a betrothal to Inthorn's daughter, but he understood the value of a strategic marriage for Camelot.

"The light is good enough to ride soon," he heard his father said. "Have the men prepare the horses. I will wake your brothers."

Closing his eyes and breathing steadily to pretend he was still asleep, Uther waited for his father to touch him before stirring. It was a gentle nudge to the shoulder, brief, for his father had already moved on to wake the deep-sleeping Ambrose.

Ambrose muttered something, which Uther assumed was a comment on the softness of his bed roll, but their father just shook his head and nudged Ambrose more firmly.

"Do not make us late," he said sternly. "Inthorn will expect us before dark."

"I don't see why I have to sleep on the ground just so Constans can impress a girl," Ambrose mumbled.

"Someday you'll try to impress a girl," Constantine said, with a surprisingly gentle smile, "and you'll wish your brothers would do as much or more for you, should the need arise. Consider it advanced payment."

Uther wasn't so sure, but he didn't argue. He pulled on his cloak and gloves for the ride and flexed his fingers to shake off the stiffness from the cold night. He hoped this journey was worthwhile, for Camelot, at the very least.

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Standing in the courtyard, Zosia tugged at the edge of her sleeve for the third time, and her sister pinched her as a gentle warning not to ruin the lace of her dress. Her father loved how she looked in this dress, had specifically requested that she wear this dress, but it was clear he'd never had to wear lace before.

"Are they late yet?" Zosia said.

"Patience, Zosia," her father said. She saw his lips twitch, but there was only so much he could let her get away with, she knew.

Zosia was aware of why every effort had been made for her first impression. The idea of the visit was not only for King Constantine of Camelot to build an alliance with her father, but also for her and Prince Constans to meet each other and get to know each other, which was the last thing Zosia wanted. A marriage would be held off until she was considered old enough, which was at least another four years, but the very idea of becoming a queen, no matter how attractive or strong or kind Constans might be, made her feel a bit ill.

"Are those horses?" her sister, Marzena, said suddenly.

The horses turned the corner and entered through the open gates, and Zosia held her breath, watching the King and his three sons approach in the front of a not insignificant coterie of knights. She pulled at her sleeve again, and Marzena pinched with a bit more force.

Her father strode forward as the king dismounted, and he held out his arm. King Constantine took her father's arm and the two shook arms in that weird gesture she sometimes saw men do. They were saying something that probably meant nothing, and she examined the three sons as they dismounted.

Constans was clearly the oldest of the three, probably nearly twenty, while his brothers were maybe a couple of years older than her. She couldn't have guessed which was the youngest, but the younger brothers had kinder, rounder faces, while Constans had a very narrow, scowling face. Perhaps he thought this made him look fiercer, but Zosia thought it made him look like he had a bad blister on his foot.

Zosia's father gestured for her to come forward, which she did, Marzena following a few steps behind. She curtsied to the king, who bowed his head lightly in acknowledgement.

"As beautiful as I've heard," King Constantine said. "How very like her mother she is."

"Oh, she is certainly beautiful," Zosia's father said with his fond smile. "However, forgive me, Constantine, but I believe I am the expert in my daughters. Marzena will certainly grow to look the very image of her mother, but Zosia takes more after the women in my side of the family. Neither less beautiful than the other, but different."

The girls were introduced one by one to the sons, starting with the youngest, Uther, perhaps to build suspense toward her and Constans being properly introduced. Uther kept looking at her, even after he'd been introduced to Marzena, and Zosia found that attention intriguing rather than annoying. He didn't seem to be aware he was staring, and she wondered what had caught his attention so strongly that he wasn't aware of his behavior. Based on the sons of her father's men, she had a horrible feeling he'd noticed a flaw in her hair or a hole in her dress or something of that sort.

Constans kissed her hand. His glove was surprisingly cold on her skin, and his lips were dry and a bit coarse. He looked through her more than at her, and she wondered how he felt, being promised to someone who was essentially still a child when he was all but a man.

"You must be starving," her father said. "Come, there is a feast waiting for us inside."

Zosia turned to follow her father, and on the way around she saw Uther staring at her still. When their eyes met, he seemed to realize what he was doing. His lips parted in surprise, and then he slammed them shut again, looked directly at his father's back, and did not so much as glance her direction all the way to the front door.

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The banquet hall and Carneath was smaller than that in the citadel in Camelot, but it had been grandly furnished and richly laid out with food. Uther took the seat designated to him at the head table, not near enough to hold a conversation with anyone but Ambrose, but rather than looking to his food as it arrived, his brother poked his side behind the high table.

"You've got to knock it off," Ambrose said softly.

"What?" Uther said.

"You're staring at her. It's rude."

"Staring at who?"

Ambrose made an annoyed sound, and Uther knew why. He was fully aware that he couldn't seem to stop looking at Lady Zosia, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. She had blonde hair, it was a shade he'd never seen before. He'd known lots of blonde women and girls, but none of them had hair that looked like this, what could only be described as gold. Whenever she moved her head, it caught light in a different way, and he wondered if it felt as smooth as the metal.

She tried to engage Constans in conversation over the course of the dinner, but Constans had never been a conversationalist. Uther watched his brother first try to trim the conversation off with short answers, then attempt to merely listen to her speak, and then give their father a weary look. Uther wanted to know what she was trying to say, wanted to hear her speak. He wondered what her voice would be like, whether it would be melodious, or some other word men used to describe women's voices. He'd never really thought of things like that before, but he knew her voice could be ordinary.

At the end of the feast, Uther lingered on the edges of the party while his father mingled with men he'd met before. Constans conversed with knights about his age in Lord Inthorn's employ, and Uther continued to move on the edges. He paused when he saw Lady Zosia and Lady Marzena having a conversation, and he watched Zosia pull at her sleeve until her sister pinched her. He wasn't sure why, but he thought it was funny, and when he laughed, Zosia looked directly at him.

Her eyes were brown, and they had this strange quality, like through them she was reaching across the space of the room and wrapping delicate fingers around his throat, tugging him toward her as if she'd clapped warm irons on his neck and pulled a chain. His feet followed eagerly, willingly, and she continued to stare at him, not with any negativity in her expression, but with an open curiosity he didn't think he'd ever seen on someone's face before.

"My lady," he said, bowing his head slightly.

"Prince Uther," she said.

Something in her voice was amused, although he wouldn't have said she was smiling.

Even just saying his name, her voice had a kind of warmth, like runny honey dripping from a pan into a sauce. It wasn't, but it was round and warm and soft. He realized he was still standing and staring at her, and he still had that feeling like her hand was around his throat, and he found the sensation a bit…pleasant.

Rather than waiting for him to decide what he was going to say, the corners of her lips twitched and she said, "Do you like sunrises, Uther?"

"Sunrises?" he said. "I can't say that I've seen very many. I'm usually in bed."

"You're missing a thing of great beauty," she said. "Are you opposed to an early rising tomorrow?"

"No," he said, unthinking.

She walked away before he could ask anything else, and he realized he'd been holding his breath. Almost as soon as she turned away from him, the sensation of her holding him by the throat was gone, and he ached with in a way he couldn't explain, wishing the feeling would come back.

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Zosia knew if her father caught her, he'd be furious, but she had a good feeling that Uther wouldn't tell. She checked that the corridor was empty before she slowly opened his door. He looked peaceful on the bed, smaller as he slept in the center of it. She stood beside him for a moment, studying his face, before she realized they'd both miss the sunrise at this rate.

Not wanting to startle him, she said his name softly. He hummed, turned his head, but his eyes were still closed. Zosia nudged at his shoulder with her hand, and he hummed again. He mumbled something she couldn't make out, and then she said his name again, this time closer to his face.

His eyes opened, startled, and he said her name, sitting upright.

"You're going to oversleep," she said brightly. "I'll wait outside for you to dress. Be quick."

He made nonsensical sounds like he was hoping to speak but couldn't decide what to say, but Zosia just strolled out into the corridor and waited, watching the corridor and hoping no one patrolled in their direction.

She'd snuck out to watch hundreds of sunrises, but this felt different, doing it with someone else. She could almost never peel Marzena out of bed anymore, and this boy wasn't Marzena. It was inherently different. She wasn't even sure why she'd invited him, but it was exciting, like sneaking food from the kitchens.

Uther was surprisingly quick about dressing, but he had no sign of hastiness in his manner of dress. She held a finger to her lips as he started to speak, and she led him to the end of the corridor, up the stairs, and out onto the battlements. The morning air was still, a bit damp and misty, and that cool kind of not-quite-light, not-quite dark. When they were out in the air, Zosia set aside the candle and led Uther to a good spot to sit and look east.

"How often do you do this?" he said.

"Nearly every day," she said.

"Are you not cold?"

"That's part of the experience," she said, brushing aside his concern with a wave of her hand.

He settled beside her, and it was strange to feel the warmth of someone else near her as they waited. The wildlife was waking, and the birds began to speak. Zosia closed her eyes for a moment to soak in the sensory experience, making the beginning of the light all the more beautiful when she opened her eyes.

"It's the most beautiful thing nature gives us," she said as the colors began. "You don't see colors like this anywhere else."

"I suppose not," Uther said.

She expected, with how much he'd been watching her since they rode in, to see him looking at her when she looked at him, but Uther was watching the sunrise as if transfixed. Only when he felt her look at him did he turn his head, and he smiled at her. He still looked sleepy, but she knew by instinct that there was no way she'd have gotten any of his brothers out of bed for this.

"Constans wouldn't watch a sunrise, would he?" she whispered.

"Maybe if he felt like he was supposed to," Uther said.

"That's not the point of it," she said, frowning.

She tried to tamp down her disappointment. She knew her father had promised she wouldn't have to marry him if she didn't want to, but she was meant to be giving him fair consideration. She wasn't entirely sure what fair consideration meant, but she knew she had to try.

/-/

Uther's sleep shifted far faster than he could have imagined possible. Every morning at Carneath, he was waking before the dawn, dressing while still half insensate, and waiting for a knock at the door from Zosia. Sometimes he followed her to the battlements, sometimes to the courtyard, and once to the river behind the castle.

This morning, she led him up to the battlements again, and she said not a word from her knock on the door to their settling beside each other on the cool, damp stone. He'd never felt anything quite like sitting alone with her before. He didn't have a word for it, but he liked the way it felt to follow her and liked even more being near her. The smell of damp morning air mingled with a kind of warm, lightly floral scent he was coming to associate with her presence, and he wanted to remember this smell for the rest of his life.

"I suppose we won't get to do this when you and Constans marry," he said.

Zosia sniffed, and he saw her lips twist into a frown.

"I won't be marrying Constans," she said.

Uther startled, wondering if his father knew this yet. Would her father even let her say no when Constans proposed?

"Why not?" he said carefully.

"They can build a treaty without my hand," Zosia said. "I can't even talk to him. He doesn't know how to hold a conversation. What's life with a man you can't talk to? And I don't want to be a queen anyway."

"Is it really so different from being a lady?"

"In every way," Zosia said, sitting up and twisting to look back at him where he leaned back against the battlement. "The thing I've learned from watching people marry is that the more powerful the husband, the less power the wife has, especially in public. If I were to marry Constans, I would not be asked for counsel, I would not have responsibilities beyond the ceremonial. My use would be to give him heirs or to be able to sign papers while he was away, unless he was dead. I don't want to only be of use if my husband is dead."

Uther stared at her, seeing her hair haloed and glowing in the soft light of the sunrise. He felt that pleasant sensation of the phantom hand on his neck, urging her toward her, tying him to her.

"Do you think your father will let you say no?" he said.

"My father has said from the beginning that this would be my decision," she said with another sniff. "He is a man of his word. He will never make me marry a man I don't want to marry."

Uther couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to, because he wasn't aware of what he was going to do until it was done, but he very suddenly leaned forward and touched his lips to her lips. Her mouth was soft, warm, and if he could have lingered with his face against hers all morning, he'd gladly have done so. Instead, he was so startled by his own behavior, that he pulled back almost as soon as their lips touched and began to apologize.

Zosia stared at him as he stuttered through his apologies, and he couldn't stop his tongue, although he had very little sense of what he was saying. The pulsing ache in his body, focused at his neck and his lips, urged him to kiss her again, but his tongue flowed and flowed, holding him back.

She said his name finally, stopping his pleas for forgiveness immediately. He waited for her judgment, which he prayed would be swift, and he was surprised instead when she leaned in and pressed her lips to his again, lingering there, as if she could possibly enjoy the warmth and weight of the contact as he did. He closed his eyes and breathed in the warm, lightly floral scent of her, and she slid a hand up his chest to rest on his neck. He wasn't sure if it was real or imagined, but it was warm, insistent, and wonderful. If time broke here, he wouldn't mind at all.

A/N:

This is the very beginning of what is going to be a series. A later part, set during the series, is already in progress, and it's called Camelot: Krysia & Gwaine. If you don't mind that you'll find out how we get from A to B, you're welcome to read both! If you're here from that story, welcome! If you don't like spoilers, maybe wait and read this one before you go there, but know it's going to be some time.

Buckle up for the ride, and have a lovely day, all!

-C