Knowing what she did, knowing that William was truly Arthur, Krysia sat nervously at her place at the king's side. Leon nodded to her as he entered to give the king a report, and Gaius's warning from the night before sprang to mind: don't tease him. She smiled, but she felt a bit uncomfortable, like she'd done something she shouldn't have, only she couldn't figure out what it was.

The knights came out and Krysia felt something wasn't quite right. She could have sworn that Sir Alinor was a bit taller in comparison to Arthur than this, but perhaps it was seeing them in different armor.

They faced off on the race. Krysia held her breath, watching a heavy blow that somehow pierced the armor of Arthur, and Krysia watched Gwen run out of the stands and toward the tent. Krysia relaxed knowing that Gwen was helping Merlin. She might not have magic, but she was trustworthy and intelligent.

"That was quite a blow," Uther said to Leon, who had lingered. "Sir Alinor delivered it decisively. A few minutes and he could be champion."

"Indeed, sire."

But before Krysia gave up hope, "William" went out to face off again. Krysia held her breath again as the two men tilted.

Suddenly, the girth on Sir Alinor's horse broke, and when Arthur hit back, the man was unhorsed, landing horribly on the base of the training ground, almost certainly snapping his neck.

Krysia made her excuses to leave, not wanting to get caught out in a lie about what she did or didn't know. Uther assured her she was welcome to prepare for the feast, and Leon followed her out of the tournament grounds.

"I don't feel so poor, losing to the tournament winner," Leon said, walking in step with her.

"It does lend itself to feeling less of a sting, I suppose," she said. He was smiling when she looked at him, and her stomach twisted.

Was she doing it again, whatever it was she wasn't supposed to do? She wasn't sure.

"You should enjoy yourself at the feast tonight," he said.

"Leon, I'm working at the feast."

"Yes, but…" He grabbed her hands and pulled them both to a stop. She couldn't get a sense of the way he was smiling at her, but it was different, something new. Was Gaius right after all? "You always work so hard, Krysia, constantly. Surely you can delegate and have a little bit of a rest. You've earned a rest."

"I've earned responsibility," Krysia said, squeezing his hands lightly. "That means that if anything doesn't go perfectly, it's my head the king will be after. I'm afraid there isn't much case of rest in my position."

His face tightened, and he seemed to want to say something, but he shook his head and smiled.

"Right, of course. Don't let me keep you. I've things I need to do before the feast as well. Just…do something for you tonight? Even a small thing."

She wasn't sure what that would be, but she said she would so he let go of her hands. She couldn't shake the strange request all the way to the kitchens, but she also couldn't think what she could do that would even make sense.

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The feast was full of people celebrating the tournament, and the man playing Sir William of Deira was celebrated excessively. Krysia watched the Lady Morgana greet him with warmth, and she wondered what they would think if Arthur had revealed the truth of the matter. This man would be on his way home, with none of the glory for his small part played.

Krysia moved through the space, making sure the serving girls were keeping goblets filled. She nearly lost her footing when someone grabbed her elbow, but she laughed when she saw it was just Leon.

"You look lovely," he said.

He was clearly several drinks deep, but she thanked him.

"Have you done anything for you yet?" he said.

"Not yet," she said. "I've not had the time."

Again, he made her promise that she would, and again she said yes without any sense of what it might be.

Gwen had moved to the back, watching the feast quietly, and Krysia smiled at her, approaching.

"Whatever you did," Krysia whispered to her, "thank you. I've heard from Merlin that the danger is passed."

"It would seem so," Gwen said softly. "Was that your ribbon Sir Leon had on his arm?"

Krysia's neck went hot, and she said, "I…it…He asked for something. It was nothing, really."

Gwen hummed, and then Krysia realized, "Wait, was that yours, the favor Arthur wore?"

Gwen's cheeks went red and she said, "Well, no one else even knew it was him, so it seemed only fair that I…"

The two women smiled nervously at each other, then dropped the subject.

The night went on and on, and when Krysia finally had the cleaning crew working and decided they no longer required supervision, she returned to Gaius's chambers and crept into the room she shared with Merlin. Merlin, thankfully, was already asleep, and Krysia quickly changed and rolled onto the bed, reaching for her potion.

Then Leon's plea ran through her mind once more: do something for yourself.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion, perhaps it was the pull of the dreams, but she decided that just for one night, it wouldn't hurt to not take the potion. After all, she would need to be awake in a few hours, and that wasn't enough time to do any real damage. Was it?

Before she could talk herself out of the mad idea, her eyes grew heavier, and she fell asleep.

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Krysia's hair glowed in the candlelight. Leon could feel his pulse in his throat as he watched her dress slip off her body and hit the stone floor of a room he'd never been in. A large tub was in the center, and he watched her scoop her hair over her shoulder and slowly climb into the tub. He could scarcely breathe, standing still, watching her. He wanted to touch her, but somehow he couldn't move.

She looked over her shoulder and said, "Well? Aren't you joining me?"

The promise in her voice was dark and sensual, and Leon had never removed clothes so quickly. He climbed into the tub with her, and she sat forward to make room. Her legs against his legs under the warm water was unfamiliar and perfect. The weight of her against his chest was perfect. Her hands pulling his arms around her was perfect. He buried his face in her sweet hair and could smell every bit of every scent he'd ever associated with her, plus something that reminded him of horses.

He kissed her neck, sighing against her skin. She shifted her hair again to clear a path to her jaw, then to her lips. Her lips, soft and warm and sweet and—

Leon opened his eyes, gasping for breath. Had he forgotten to apply the preparation from Gaius? He'd drank so much, he couldn't be sure. He could almost feel warm flesh under his fingers, could almost taste the kiss on his mouth. The smell of Krysia and horses and humidity clung to his nostrils.

He'd been a fool, he knew. He should never have asked Krysia for a favor. He certainly should have let it go when she'd initially demurred, but something about her made him behave like a fool sometimes. He had really hoped that without Arthur present he'd have a chance to win, and then he'd be her champion, wearing her ribbon, victorious.

Where the fantasy went from there was never fleshed out, and just as well, since he hadn't won for her. It didn't bode well, but what else could be expected?

Leon climbed out of bed and sat beside his window, watching the sunrise. He could recall as a child, sometimes sneaking out with Krysia to watch sunrises, which were her favorite thing. He could see the beauty in them, but he'd always preferred watching her watch them.

Shaking the dream was not so simple as getting out of bed and watching the sunrise, however. The sensory experience of it did not fade, so much that he kept checking to see that his trousers weren't wet. He couldn't imagine any circumstance when he would be getting into a bath with Krysia, and yet his mind had conjured it so perfectly, so clearly, it was almost like a vivid memory.

If it happened again, he would talk to Gaius, but at this point, he wasn't even sure it wasn't his own fault, so he simply tried to enjoy the lingering smell of her hair, the feel of her skin, the intoxication of her kiss. It didn't matter so much that it wasn't real, not for the moment.

/-/

Krysia did not regret her decision for the night, but she understood what Gaius meant: if she had a dream the very first time she chose not to take the potion, she wasn't ready to go without it. Between lack of sleep and the vividness of the dream about the mysterious man, she found waking and trying to start her day to be a disorienting experience.

She pulled herself together and returned to the king's side to do her work, and although he could see she was tired, he said nothing. It was gentlemanly of him, as she knew he was aware that she did not leave for the night after feasts until she was certain that all would be well when she returned in the morning. He was just complimenting her on the smoothness of the event when the doors to the council chamber opened.

Arthur "returned" to Camelot ever the conquering hero, and court was called to the council chamber for him to express his triumph to. Krysia arranged the chairs, and she saw Leon enter, also looking worse for wear on sleep. He stared at her for a long moment when he entered, then forced a smile and took a seat. Krysia wondered what he'd been thinking, but she knew she wouldn't have a good opportunity to ask.

Arthur spun a tale for the court of besting his assassin on the way back home, which was how he explained the bandage sling over his armor, no doubt from when he was nearly unhorsed by what turned out not to be Sir Alinor the previous day.

"The murderer attacked us as we returned to Camelot," he said. "I was injured while killing him."

"Odin must be made to pay for his actions," Uther said. "We must strike back at him."

"Surely you understand the grievance he feels for the loss of his son?" Arthur said. Krysia was a bit surprised by the wisdom of the statement, but then, he had to grow up sometime. "We should try to make peace with him. There's been enough bloodshed."

"Perhaps you're right," Uther said. "How was the rest of your trip? Fruitful?"

Krysia raised her eyebrows at Arthur, who looked at her, then quickly looked back at his father. She almost smiled, realizing Merlin must have told him that she knew.

"Very," Arthur said. "I learned a great deal. How was the tournament?"

"Excellent," Uther said. "We have a new champion, Sir William of Deira."

"I'm sorry I missed all the excitement," Arthur said.

Krysia held in her laugh as she filled goblets for each of those seated, and watched Arthur leave to see Gaius about his arm.

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Leon watched Krysia holding a conversation with Gwen from across the courtyard, and he could almost feel her hair between his fingers. He hadn't been able to shake a sense of where she was all day, ever since he woke from his dream. He had an urge to talk to her, and he also had an urge to avoid talking to her, because he didn't trust what he might say.

"If you keep staring, she's going to notice," an amused voice said beside him.

Leon jumped and turned to find Geraint smiling at him.

"I'm not staring," Leon said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how stupid they sounded, but Geraint just laughed.

"Do you not remember last night, Leon?"

"Last night?" Leon said. There was a glimmer about his friend that promised Leon had done something spectacularly awful.

Geraint nodded over Leon's shoulder, and Leon turned to see that Gwen and Krysia were passing them. Both women nodded to them, bowing their heads slightly, and Leon found it actually hurt to see Krysia bow her head like a servant now that he knew the truth.

When they were alone in the courtyard, Geraint said, "Last night you told me that you thought Krysia looked like a princess."

"Did I?" Leon said.

He could hear how weak his own voice was, but he couldn't afford to worry about that now. He was far more concerned with what else might have passed through his lips while he was drinking. There were so many ways he could betray her now that he knew, and any of those things had the potential to be dangerous.

"I grant you," Geraint said, "if you dressed her in silks and put a crown on her head, I would believe she was a princess. Leon, I don't see why you don't just tell her how you feel. It's obvious she cares about you."

"We are friends," Leon whispered. "That is all."

They were friends, and in his dreams, sometimes, they were lovers, but that could never be. Again, he could almost feel her, almost smell her. Geraint was looking at Leon with concern and pity, and Leon wanted to escape, although he knew there was no escaping. He had to be more careful, both with what he drank and taking his preparation from Gaius. If he didn't, the damage would be far more likely to fall on Krysia than himself, and he could not live with the consequences.

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Gwaine had been in Ealdor for some time, doing odd jobs, helping with the planting, playing with children. He could be happy, comfortable in a place like this, he was certain. It was tempting to stay, and he possibly would have done.

Then the dreams returned.

Gwaine woke from a dream of the mystery woman, and he could barely breathe for longing. It had been the most lurid, the most vivid, the most intoxicating dream he'd ever had of her, and there was a strange lingering of the sensory experience long after he'd woken. He'd never had an experience like it, but he could almost taste her. He both did and didn't want it to stop.

Trying to ground himself, he went out into the night air and tried to focus on breathing, on looking at the stars, on anything but the inviting dream he'd woken from.

He was surprised when the door opened again behind him, and a very sleep Hunith followed him out into the night.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he said.

"It is nothing," she said. "You seem distressed. Is everything alright? Did you have a nightmare?"

Gwaine smiled weakly and said, "I had the opposite of a nightmare. It's the kind of dream a man could live in, could lose himself in, nature permitting." He nudged a rock at his foot with his toe for something to do. "The dreams had ended. I was sure…I believed they were done."

Hunith smiled and said, "Perhaps it is time to go to Camelot, then."

He couldn't have explained the fear that filled him when she said that. Strange that the thing he had wanted, had been travelling toward, suddenly seemed like a dangerous mystery on the horizon.

"What if…what if I arrive and she is not there?" he said. "Or what if she is, but she is not…it cannot…?"

"A man cannot live on what ifs, Gwaine," Hunith said. "You have a kind of comfort here, and that is a good thing. You are always welcome in Ealdor. But this is not where you belong. I think you know that."

"I don't belong anywhere," Gwaine said.

Hunith just smiled at him, and he knew she didn't believe those words any more than he did. It was completely inexplicable, but he belonged wherever the woman in his dreams was, and somehow the only answer he had, as impossible as it seemed, was Camelot.

"It's a long ride to Camelot from here," he whispered. "Two long days, I should think."

"If you feel safe camping in the woods in between, yes, it is a long two-day journey. If you search more judiciously for shelter, especially travelling alone, it might be safer to take in three or four days."

Gwaine hummed. Part of him wanted to leave right away, but part of him was still afraid of what he might or might not find.

"I should stay a little longer," he said. "Say goodbye to the children."

"Gwaine."

He forced a smile. Hunith was a wise woman, and she could see stalling, even with someone as skilled at lying as Gwaine.

"I'll leave soon, I promise. And I will go to Camelot."

"Don't take too long," Hunith said sternly. "Even things that are meant to be can pass us by if we dwell too long in fear. The hardest things to do are usually the right ones, in the end."

She spoke as a woman with experience in hard choices, he could hear it in her voice. She reminded him a little of his own late mother, a woman who was forced to make many hard choices to feed her children.

"We should rest," Gwaine whispered. "There is much to do tomorrow."

They returned inside, but there was a kind of throbbing in Gwaine's chest calling him back into the night air. He ignored it, as he tried to ignore the lingering scent from the dreams in his nostrils. Not tonight, but soon, he promised himself. Soon.

A/N:

To Like-a-Slasher-Film:

I always appreciate your hissy fits, and I decided to gift you a tiny bit of Gwaine here at the end as an apology for this not being a single-chapter episode. I had considered it, but it didn't give me the space for what I wanted to accomplish. Almost, not quite. And I have a surprise I'm planning in a few episodes, just for you. I swear, the hissy fits are productive. I promise.

-C