The sun was bright over Carneath, high and warm, and Zosia sat on a rampart with a book in hand. She was just finishing the good part and getting to the disappointing section of every story of knights (the romance was always lacking) when she felt someone sit behind her, and she smiled to herself as she felt Uther's lips on the back of her neck.

Since his seventeenth birthday three weeks gone, he'd become unquestionably emboldened in her presence, particularly when he caught her alone. Neither had dared use the word courtship, but she would have been stunned to learn if he hadn't been thinking it. She certainly had.

"Did I come on a bad page?" he whispered.

"You came on the best page," she said, setting aside the book. "I was about to abandon it."

He hummed, and she turned to kiss him. He paused still when she kissed him, but he always gave in after only a moment's hesitation. She enjoyed the feeling of his hands tracing down her neck, down her chest. Once he'd even cupped her breast in his hand through her dress, and that had been surprisingly pleasant. She'd been curious to explore this sensation and others further, but she knew he was terrified of being caught by her father.

When he leaned back from the kiss, tracing his fingers along her collarbone lazily, staring at her lips, he said, "What are your plans for the evening?"

"What did you have in mind?" she said, teasing.

Uther bit his lip, and she knew that he was thinking of something, but something he wouldn't ever ask, again, because hew as afraid of being discovered by her father.

"I thought we might go on a ride before the sunrise tomorrow," he said. "If you would be inclined to—"

She kissed him again, and he gave in much quicker to the kiss, pulling her closer, and moaning into her mouth, which was a new and very pleasant sensation. She could get used to this.

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Zosia hummed as she examined her hair the next morning in the looking glass. She knew it would only be a mess after the ride, so she decided she wouldn't bother. And then she carefully pulled on the dress she'd set aside after her maid had gone to bed. She didn't think it mattered, keeping the ride a secret, but she found she enjoyed the rush of secrets.

The dress was one of his favorites, she knew, a pale lavender overlay on a bright, light blue. The material held up surprisingly well on rides, she had previously learned, and it was long enough to cover her unseemly but practical boots.

She hurried down to the courtyard as quickly as she could once dressed, thrilled that no one crossed her path on the way. Even if someone knew, it felt more like a secret this way.

Uther was waiting for her with the horses, and his eyes widened at the sight of her, and she heard a strange, tight sound emit from his throat.

"You look lovely, my lady," he said.

"Thank you," she said. He held out his hand, and she used it as leverage for mounting her horse.

Uther quickly mounted his own horse, and she began the ride, leading the way, not being interested in his leading the way. He never argued, either from gallantry or knowing how she would react if he tried to take control. When she reached her favorite clearing for sunrises, she dismounted and tied the horse near enough to the stream that it could take water. Uther unhorsed beside her and unhooked a blanket from his saddle. She watched him lay it out, and she sat on it in the center, gesturing for him to sit beside her.

He sat without hesitation, kissing her. Zosia kissed back, surprised and pleased by his sudden boldness.

When they both had to break for breath, she said, "We should do this more often."

"Kiss?"

"No, this, this riding out, the sunrises. It's nice to get away from the castle for a while."

He hummed, turning to lay on his stomach, looking down at her, propping himself up a bit on his elbows. He looked so pleased, and she petted his hair gently. It wasn't precisely soft, but it was lovely warm.

"I can't remember if I've said this lately," he said, "which means I'm not saying it often enough, but you're the most beautiful creature in the five kingdoms."

She laughed, and he pressed a kiss to her jaw. They sat together in near-silence and waited for the sunrise curled up together, all of his body pressed to hers.

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Uther was making his plans to compete in the melee Mercia was holding, on invitation from Bayard. He checked the sword Inthorn had offered to loan him, and it was good. Uther was a bit young for a melee, but Bayard had suggested it as an opportunity to remind the realm that there was still a Pendragon.

The thought was enticing, but Uther already knew what Zosia would say if he said he was going to compete.

He sat in the solar, staring at the fireplace, trying to decide how to tell her that he might go. Thoughts of Zosia were complicated, because every time he tried to imagine how the conversation would go, his imagination would take a left turn, and the conversation became kissing, and sometimes if he was relaxed and sure he would not be interrupted, the kissing became something else entirely. He'd spent many long hours learning how to relieve his tension while imagining where one of their secluded and stolen moments might become, if he only had the courage.

The trouble ways, Uther thought, frowning at the fireplace, he really did have nothing to offer her. He knew what she said, about not wanting to be a queen, but she was still quite young. There was a wide difference between believing she didn't want to be a queen and having a man who had no lands, no title, nothing but a lost crown to give her. She had already started wondering out loud how many children they might have, and he had begun to wonder what point there was in a son if he had no legacy to give a son.

But how could he make her understand without seeming like he'd dismissed her feelings, her preferences? And they were still only seventeen. The things she thought she wanted now could change tremendously. Inthorn had reminded Uther that Zosia's mother had been quite convinced when she was seventeen that she would become a High Priestess of the Old Religion and remain celibate for life, but she fell in love, gave up her role in the Old Religion, and had two children.

As Inthorn said, life has a way of changing our priorities.

But Zosia was a stubborn woman, and Uther didn't know how to have this conversation in a way that wouldn't disappoint her. She didn't believe in changing her mind, even when it might be beneficial. In truth, it was one of the many things Uther admired about her, but in light of the possibility that she might change her mind, and he might have nothing to offer…

It would not do to close his doors. He would need to write to Bayard and accept the invitation. Whatever excuse he gave to Zosia, he knew someday she would be grateful.

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Marcial started awake to boots hitting his thigh. He reached for his sword absently before he realized that Gorlois had simply chucked his boots at him from across the room.

"We need to be riding soon," Gorlois said. "We're going to be late. It's a long ride to Mercia."

Marcial grunted, then sat up slowly and tossed a boot back at his friend, but without conviction.

"I'd forgotten," Marcial said.

"I'm aware. I've had the servants pack and prepare. Get dressed. It wouldn't do to leave Prince Bayard waiting."

Marcial was not looking forward to his first melee. They were on the young end, and strictly they probably shouldn't be competing, but Prince Bayard had personally extended the invitation, and Gorlois felt it was important to make a good showing. Marcial had suggested they wait until someone offered one that wasn't the entire length of Camelot away, but Gorlois seemed to think that was a joke, and not a funny one.

"Hurry up," Gorlois said, tossing the boot back again.

"Yes, my lord," Marcial said dryly, ignoring his friend's laughter as he left Marcial alone to dress.

/-/

Zosia watched Uther examine the saddle of the horse he was borrowing and she crossed her arms over her chest. He was pointedly ignoring her, but she wasn't about to let him leave without knowing precisely what she thought of the matter.

He turned and faced her when he finished his work, the early light of morning causing a glow of the crown she hadn't noticed he'd donned.

"Unbelievable," she said.

She must have put more venom behind the word than she'd meant to, because he flinched like she'd struck him.

"You could come with me," Uther said. "It wouldn't take long to saddle another horse. Bayard would see to your every need."

"I've no interest in watching men bludgeon each other in the name of chivalry," she said with a sniff. "I don't see why you feel the need to participate."

She expected him to say something foolish, but she couldn't have anticipated what he said to her.

"It's important that I build the name of Pendragon," he said softly. "For you."

Zosia shook her head and said, "Do you honestly think I want you to reclaim your crown for my sake?"

"This isn't about the crown," he said. "I know how you feel about thrones. This is about having a legacy to give you. Right now I can offer nothing—"

"I have asked for nothing!"

He took her hand and kissed it, forcing a smile that looked painful for him.

"If I don't do this," he whispered, "I will never be worthy of you. Any time we went anywhere, you would be the princess who married a man disgraced."

"What need have we to go anywhere?" she said touching his faced. "Everything either of us could ever need is here at Carneath. My father—"

"Your father will not live forever, Zo," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "If I'm worthy of being the lord of Carneath by your side, if I am to have a name worth handing to our children, I need to have more than a lost throne to give them. Even if this melee is all I ever have, I need to earn it. I need to try. Do you see?"

She did not see, but she also realized that to him, this was as essential as breathing, and that if he didn't go, he would always wish he had. She pressed her lips to his and he kissed her back, eager and hungry, the way he usually only kissed her when he was sure no one might be looking.

"When you come back," she whispered against his mouth, "you're going to take me on a picnic and not mention the melee, win or lose."

"Anything you wish, Zo," he breathed back. "Always."

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Uther was just coming down from his horse at the courtyard, Bayard already approaching, when a familiar and very welcome sight came riding in. There was Gorlois on horseback, the friend Uther had missed most, and beside him riding in was Marcial of House Elmere. Uther couldn't resist a laugh at the sight of them, and Bayard clapped Uther's shoulder, grinning.

"I thought you might like to see old friends," Bayard said. "If you had said no, I would have dangled their presence before you as a lure. I thought Zo might try to keep you at Carneath."

"She did," Uther said. "I think she understands why I couldn't stay."

"Trust me, Uther," Bayard said darkly, "she doesn't. Come, greet your friends and join us for the feast. Enjoy yourself without her judgment for a little while. Relax."

Uther wasn't sure what Bayard meant, but he greeted his friends, who were both pleased and surprised to see him.

"Are you still holed up at Carneath?" Gorlois said as the boys all walked toward the banquet hall.

"Yes, Lord Inthorn has been most generous and hospitable," Uther said.

"You mean his daughter has been hospitable," Gorlois teased. "Bayard said he has some of the most beautiful women in the Five Kingdoms attending."

"Doubtful," Uther said, thinking of Zosia.

Bayard hadn't been totally wrong, though, Uther found as he entered the banquet hall. There were indeed many beautiful women in attendance, including one woman who Uther was reliably informed was Bayard's cousin. She had beautiful raven hair and strikingly blue eyes, and after a few cups of wine, Uther thought he might have followed her anywhere. Her, or any number of the other women who was flirting with any man dressed in armor.

Marcial seemed uncomfortable with the attention, Gorlois welcomed it, and even disappeared with a pretty courtier who asked if he wanted to count stars with her. Uther didn't see him for the rest of the night.

Uther sat beside Marcial and watched Bayard's pretty cousin, who was eating everything very deliberately, and looking at him with a very suggestive gaze. It wouldn't be hard, he thought, to convince her to kiss him. Her breasts looked soft, and he thought it might be nice to feel them pressed on him.

"Gorlois tells me you're courting Lady Zosia of House Adaire," Marcial said, passing a chicken leg to Uther, who blinked at it before accepting it.

"Not precisely," Uther said, feeling a bit uncomfortable as he looked back at Bayard's cousin. She was smiling at him, nibbling on the end of her thumb.

"What does that mean?"

"It means…I have nothing to offer her at present," Uther said. "It wouldn't do to offer myself as a suitor with nothing to offer. But we are…quietly…" He shrugged. "Courting isn't quite right, but perhaps it isn't quite wrong."

Marcial didn't seem to understand, but then he said, "You want to marry her?"

Uther's neck felt hot, and he looked down at his plate. How much wine had he had? When he looked up, Bayard's cousin left the banquet hall, looking at him very pointedly. He was expected to follow her, and his imagination didn't mind the things he expected to be waiting for him if he followed. But if he went with her, what would Zosia think?

"Yes," Uther whispered. "Yes, I want to marry her more than I've wanted anything in the world."

Marcial hummed, then said, "I think you're probably courting, then."

Marcial was right, Uther thought, and he turned his attention to the chicken leg, relieved that he had not followed Bayard's cousin. Zosia would have likely murdered him on return to Carneath. He probably would have deserved it.

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When Uther returned with little more than a few bruises and a very wide smile, Zosia left the room before he could announce his victory. She knew he would win the stupid melee. Uther seemed to win everything he put his mind to.

He followed her to the study before too long, and she held up a hand to keep him from telling her what he'd accomplished. She stood and crossed to him where he stood in the doorway, and he watched her every move very carefully.

"I take it you were satisfied with your journey," she said. "I don't want to hear about it."

"You've made that plain," he said, leaning in as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He didn't dare kiss her first, she knew, but she always tried to coax him into making his first move.

"How was Bayard?" she whispered.

"Hospitable," he said, leaning closer. "I don't want to talk about him."

"I thought you might not want to," she said.

He hummed, leaning so close, he nearly was kissing her.

"Zo," he whispered, "I love you."

She laughed, leaning in to kiss him. He kissed back eagerly the moment her lips touched his, and he practically lifted her off the floor.

"Need," he muttered against her mouth, like he wasn't sure what the word meant.

"What do you need?" she said, taking a few steps back and leading him into the study.

"Zo," he said, like he was in pain, "you were talking before I left about the future."

"Was I?" she said. "I thought that was you."

"It doesn't matter," he said. "I know we aren't ready today, but I need you. If your father would let me, if you would agree, I would marry you tomorrow. You know that."

Zosia wasn't sure why, but she suddenly felt nervous. Of course she knew that courtship ended in marriage, but they weren't formally courting. And yes, she did think about a future with Uther, but when he wore that ridiculous crown, it was a reminder of all the loss and indignity that he had hanging over his head. Would he be content to live out a quiet life with her at Carneath? And if he wasn't, would he understand if she said she wouldn't marry him?

"I know," she said with a small smile. "But you're right, we're not ready, and we're not marrying tomorrow. Let's just go for a ride tomorrow and see what each day brings, alright?"

He kissed her hands, then her jaw, and she tried to focus on the pleasant sensations of his lips, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something about this sweet summer was temporary, no matter how much they both would like it to be forever. She wanted to hope, but she wasn't sure she could afford to hope without hesitation. Not while that crown was on his head.

A/N:

Good morning and thanks for stopping by! I'd love to hear from anyone reading what you think so far, if you've read any of my other work, or if there's anything you're particularly interested in seeing in this story. Review, please!

-C