The gates of Carneath opened for Marcial as he approached on horseback. He had not paused on his ride, and he was exhausted, but he was looking forward to seeing familiar faces, to hearing what the plans were.

He dismounted in the center courtyard, and a sweet voice spoke before his feet had hit the ground.

"Are you tired from your journey, sir?"

Marcial turned, expecting to see a servant but startling to see a beautiful lady, with a deep scarlet dress hugging her torso snuggly to reveal an impossibly small waist. Her shoulders were adorned by lightly curling golden hair, and it was held out of her face by a circlet headdress in rich gold.

Lady Zosia, he realized. Of course the lady would greet comers to her home.

"You must be, if you're too tired to even speak," she said, amused. "Would you prefer to eat or rest first?"

Marcial couldn't seem to find his voice. He had forgotten for a moment why he'd come, why he'd ridden through the nights. Rest and food sounded equally lovely, but what he really wanted was to stand here in this moment for a while and drink in her beauty.

"A bed, then," she said, gesturing for someone to take his horse to the stables.

"No, I…food would be preferable, my lady," Marcial said. "Forgive me, I…I have not paused on my ride."

She hesitated and said, "From Malgrave?"

"Yes, my lady."

She gave him an appraising look that made the hairs on his arms jump to attention.

"You rode all the way from Malgrave to Carneath without pausing for rest?" she said, her voice softening.

There was a strange sensation in his chest every time she spoke, and he tried to ignore it, because each time he gave it attention to investigate it, he became too distracted to track the conversation.

"Yes, my lady."

Her lips tipped into amusement, and he wished he hadn't noticed, because now he was looking at her smile, and that was surely the wrong thing to do.

She raised a hand for him to take and said, "Let's dispense with the formalities for the moment. Zosia."

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, not daring to look away from her eyes as he did so. They were a beautiful soft brown, like a fine leather. She stared back at him, and it took him a moment to realize, as he held her hand to his lips, why it was not good for him to be so dumbstruck by her beauty.

According to everything Marcial knew, this was the woman Uther was courting, the woman he intended to be his wife, his queen. The way Marcial felt in her presence was irrelevant. She was bound to someone else.

"Marcial," he said, standing, letting go of her hand. Her fingers lingered where he'd left them for a moment before she let it drop.

"Let's see about some food for you, Marcial," she said, leading him inside.

Gods, she was even harder to look away from when she was walking, he thought, regretting that this was a sickness he was likely not to get over soon.

/-/

Rather than taking him to a dining room, Marcial found himself in guest quarters overlooking the stables, and she'd had food brought to him there. Marcial went to the window to examine the view, and he startled when she took his hands and removed the gloves, feeling his skin. Her hands were soft, not precisely delicate, but with elegant movement. And warm, terribly warm.

"We really need to warm you up," she said, frowning. "Go, eat. I'll start a fire."

Marcial watched her go to the fireplace, and he held his breath, startled to see a lady with such importance, such an inheritance, starting a fire for him. Surely she had dozens of servants who could do this task.

He sat at the table and broke the bread in two pieces, watching her skillfully start the fire while he watched. She brushed off her hands and sat across from him.

"You didn't ask why I know how to start a fire," she said with a voice that was teasing, and it sounded a bit barbed, like a trap waiting to be sprung.

"It isn't my business, my lady," he said.

"Zosia," she corrected. "My father used to take me hunting. He wouldn't agree to take me until I had mastered basic survival skills."

"A wise man," he whispered. "I am sorry for your loss, my…Zosia."

"And I for yours," she said, frowning.

They sat in silence for a while, and he finished off the food. She watched him eat with curiosity, and he felt a bit uncomfortable about it, and when she asked if he wanted more, he shook his head.

"You're sure?" she said. "More can be brought. Unless you wish to rest."

Marcial hesitated. He did want to rest, for he was exhausted, but if he said that, she would leave. If he was condemned to watch her court and marry another man, this beautiful woman, the least he could hope for was to enjoy her presence whenever he was graced with it for as long as possible.

"I wish…not to be alone," he said carefully.

Her lips parted slightly with surprise, and then he quickly began to speak before he could question.

"Since my mother passed," he said, "I have spent most of my hours alone at Malgrave, and after spending years in near constant companionship with Gorlois, I find I'm not as suited to loneliness as I was as a child. I…" He inhaled deeply to steel himself. "If you are not otherwise engaged, my lady, I would very much appreciate your company."

Zosia smiled and stood, and he felt a small panic that she might think him too forward, and she was going to leave him. Instead, she held out her hand and said, "Come with me, Marcial. I know a place that's restful and companionable."

He hesitantly took her hand, and again he felt that low ache in his chest as he followed her. He felt guilty, but he couldn't seem to stop admiring her. Perhaps it would grow easier with time.

/-/

After several hours quiet reading in the study, Marcial had fallen asleep on the recamier. Zosia watched him from her father's favorite chair. There was something familiar about Marcial in a way she couldn't place, as impossible as it was. She had never met him in her life, she was certain of that, but she felt she'd known him all her life.

He was attractive, although she knew most would have said that Uther and Gorlois were more so. There was something about Marcial's unassuming manner that Zosia appreciated, even admired, and it took a man of considerable strength and stamina to have pulled off such a ride without pause. Yes, no one would write stories about such a skill, but she thought that made it all the more admirable.

Godwyn opened the study door and was about to speak, but when she held a finger to her lip and gestured at Marcial, he smiled a little and mouthed that dinner would be ready soon. Zosia nodded and cursed silently when he closed the door enough to cause a sound when it latched. Marcial stirred but didn't wake.

She set aside the book that she hadn't been reading for some time and she sat beside him, careful to be gentle. She pressed a hand to the side of his face, appreciating the feel of his stubble on her hand. Uther was always clean-shaven, unlike how her father had been, and she missed the feel of hair sometimes, like when she would kiss her father's cheek as a child and feel it itch her face.

"Marcial?" she said softly.

He hummed, but he didn't open his eyes.

"Dinner will be soon, Marcial. Come, wake."

She gently stroked his face, and he sighed contentedly. She wondered, watching how he unconsciously reacted to touch, how long it had been since anyone had given him any kind of affirming touch. She'd heard the Lady of Elmere described as a cold woman. She pressed her other hand to the other side of his face, and again he sighed.

"Marcial?" she said, a bit louder this time. "Please, it's time to come to dinner."

He frowned slightly, then slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, his face softened as he looked up at her, and then he looked mildly afraid.

"You're alright," she said, laughing and sitting up. "I was just waking you for dinner."

He sat up, looking around nervously, but then he said, "I…very well, my lady. Where…?"

She held out her hand and stood, and he hesitated before taking it, letting her lead him out of the study and off to dinner.

/-/

It was late when Uther and Gorlois finally arrived back at Carneath, nearly time for dinner. Uther pulled off his gloves and considered going to rest and having some food sent up, but Gorlois was already leading him to dinner.

When they entered the hall, Gorlois laughed, and the familiar face of Marcial looked up from the table.

"You've made it!" Gorlois said, clapping Marcial on the shoulder.

"Yes," Marcial said, looking at Uther. "I have come to pledge my sword and the men I have, few as they are and whatever it's worth."

"Thank you, Marcial," Uther said. "I'm truly grateful."

Marcial nodded, and Gorlois sat beside him, still not having acknowledged Zosia, who was watching, amused, from the head of the table.

"We've just come from the Isle of the Blessed," Gorlois said, "and I met the most beautiful woman." He paused and looked at Zosia then and said, "Yourself excepted, my lady."

Zosia laughed and said, "I am a confident enough woman to admit there must be women more beautiful than me in the world, Gorlois."

"Surely not," Uther said, taking his own seat left open at her side. He kissed the side of her face before sitting, ignoring the smirk from Gorlois. "There is no one more beautiful than you in all the world."

Zosia rolled her eyes and said, "Marcial, what say you?"

Marcial looked up slowly, seeming uncomfortable that all the eyes in the room had turned to him. He set down his goblet and said, "All I can say, my lady, is that I have never met anyone as beautiful as you, and if I ever should, I would be quite surprised."

"See, that's a perfectly smooth and poetic answer," Zosia said with a laugh. "Honest and flattering without overstatement. Uther, take note."

"Noted, my lady," Uther said.

/-/

Zosia dressed the next morning with a little more care, letting Elsa carefully lace the back of her gown and even considering wearing her mother's emerald necklace. Instead, she had Elsa lace emeralds through her hair, weaving them gently.

"What's the special occasion, my lady?" Elsa said.

Zosia didn't know, and she answered with silence. She just felt she wanted to do something a little more special. When Elsa finally finished, Zosia gave some instructions for bringing lunch to the council chamber for the men at midday, then she quickly left before she could be asked where she was going.

Gorlois was pulling on his shirt when she entered without knocking. Gorlois laughed and said, "My lady, if you wanted to see me without clothing, you could have simply asked.

"While I'm sure you're just as handsome without as with," she said, smiling, "I think I can live without knowing for sure."

"Your loss," he said. "What can I do for you, Zo?"

"Marcial," she said softly. "He mentioned something about being alone yesterday, and I…I get the sense that he's very tied to you."

Gorlois hesitated, then said softly, "Marcial's mother didn't want to send him to Camelot to train, you know."

"Then why did he go? Did his father insist?"

"Constantine insisted," Gorlois said bitterly, "as repayment for sending a doctor to save Marcial's little sister."

Zosia frowned. She didn't think she'd heard anything about his sister.

"I'll save you the question," Gorlois whispered. "She didn't survive. Marcial didn't have a happy childhood, if that's what you're wondering, and yes, I think he had a lonely one."

Zosia hummed, then smiled and said, "Now tell me everything about this beautiful woman you met on the Isle of the Blessed."

Gorlois's face broke into a genuine smile, a rarity for him that she had seen the night before when he saw Marcial.

"Her name is Vivienne," he said, "and I don't care if it's impossible, I'm going to find a way to marry her."

"Nothing's impossible," Zosia said. "If you want it, you'll find a way to make it work."

/-/

Marcial was going down for a ride after the discussion, which had landed on Uther approaching Caerleon, reluctantly, for assistance. Lady Zosia had wisely pointed out that Mercia might make a better ally in this case, as they shared the border with Hengist, but for whatever reason, Uther would not hear her reasoning.

He startled when he found Lady Zosia already at the stables stroking the muzzle of a mare being saddled.

"My lady," he said, trying not to notice the beautiful way her dress came off her shoulders. Could she even ride in a dress so fine? And what if she lost one of those emeralds expertly woven in her hair?

"Are you not tired of riding?" she said, laughing at the sight of him.

"How could one ever tire of riding?" he said. He greeted his horse, and Zosia nodded for her stablehand to help him re-saddle the horse. She did not mount, instead watching him as he anxiously watched someone else care for his horse.

"For a man who seems to be so intent on control," she said softly, "you're very quiet."

"Control?" he said, surprised. "I think you have misread me, my lady."

"Oh?" she said.

"I…I believe there is a difference between wishing to be in control of one's own destiny and needing to be in control."

She hummed, and she continued to look at him like she was weighing something, but as soon as his horse was saddled, she mounted her own and said, "Come, Marcial. There's a place I think you'll like."

He hesitated, both wanting and not wanting to follow her. She was already riding away, however, and he knew if he didn't follow, she would be disappointed that he didn't do as she asked. And that dull ache in his chest did yearn to follow. He mounted as quickly as he could and urged his horse after her.

They raced through the woods, and he followed her laughter, unable to keep from smiling with how infectious her mood was. When she finally stopped in a small clearing beside a stream, Marcial pulled the reigns and stopped near her, tying his horse off near enough to the stream to drink. She laid back on the grass and stared up at the sky, and Marcial held his breath, watching her chest rise and fall with each deep breath.

Marcial had never felt an urge to touch someone before, but he shamefully did want to touch Zosia in that moment. He wanted to feel the movement of her breasts, to see if he could feel her heart through her rips, to know if she was as soft and inviting as she appeared, to touch the smooth curve of her shoulder with his lips and…

"Come," she said, waving him over. "Come look at the sky."

It seemed safer to look at the sky than to stare at her and imagine things that could never be, so he approached and laid beside her, looking up at the sky. This appeared to be another mistake, though, because he could feel her warmth beside him, and that was as enticing as seeing her.

"It's beautiful," he said.

"More beautiful than me?" she teased.

He sat up slightly and looked down at her, saying, "Why does it make you uncomfortable to be told that you're beautiful?"

She startled, as if she hadn't realized that this was the case until he said it out loud to her. After a moment, some of the confidence leached out of her, and she whispered, "Beautiful is a thing men say to women when they want something from them. Every man who ever said it to me wanted something from my father, or wanted my hand in marriage for my lands, or in the case of Gorlois, wanted to cover the fact that he hadn't acknowledged me when he entered in a way that would be more entertaining than discourteous."

"He means well," Marcial said.

"I know," she said, closing her eyes. "I'm not upset with Gorlois. He's a good man. I just…" She sighed. "I have more to offer the world than my ability to wear a dress well and sit for a few hours for a servant to do my hair."

"True," Marcial said. "From the little I've seen, you're talented, you're intelligent, and you have a very good head for politics and strategy. Your household appears to run seamlessly, everything under your hand seems prosperous. And…you are also beautiful."

She smiled, looking at him with mild astonishment.

"I'm sure you don't get told this as often because you're always with Gorlois," she said, "but you're handsome, Marcial. And you're clearly a skilled rider, and polite and well-spoken and observant. But you're also handsome."

The ache in his chest was back, and trying to ignore it was making him physically ill, but he forced a smile and thanked her.

"And it's Zo," she said.

"Pardon?" he said.

"You can call me Zo," she said. "At…at least when we're alone. If you'd like."

Everything in him was telling him this was a poor idea, but she looked at him so hopefully.

"Alright," he said. "I will, Zo."

A/N:

So, Marcial's a bit smitten, Zosia's intrigued, and Uther's clueless. Next chapter? Uther and Gorlois go to Gwynedd to petition Caerleon for support (with some unexpected consequences), and Zosia and Marcial get to know each other a bit better.

-C