Krysia had to keep reminding herself to breathe, staring up at the man she'd only ever seen in dreams. He ordered them ales, and she tried not to stare, but it was so surreal, every familiar curve of his face, ever hair on his chin, every lash on his eyelids. This was the same man. She felt that she was standing pressed against a gate with a flood threatening to overpower her and rush in.
"How long are you in town for, Krysia?" the man, Gwaine, said.
"A few nights," she said.
"That's not very long," he said, and was it her imagination, or was he disappointed? "I suppose I'll have to make them memorable."
She accepted her ale from the barman and tried to ground herself with the cool, smooth, familiar sensation of the flagon on the skin of her palm.
"Do you get much success with that line?" she said with a weak smile.
Gwaine smiled back and said, "I don't know. I've never used it before. I guess we'll find out."
He raised his glass ever-so-slightly to her, and she mirrored the gesture. They book took their first drinks, and she knew she was in trouble. How was she supposed to do the work Uther had sent her for when she had this man constantly trying to catch her attention? And did she even want to do anything but give this man her attention?
"Have you been in Willowdale long?" she said.
"About a week," he said. "I was thinking of leaving when you walked in. Now I suppose I'll stay for at least a few days more."
She couldn't stop the smile tickling the corners of her lips, so she tried to hide it in her ale. They continued this sort of cat-and-mouse conversation, each of them saying nothing of substance but implying more than either dared say out loud, for the time it took to finish two ales each, and then Krysia decided she'd better withdraw before she made a fool of herself. The barman gave her directions to the room she was renting, and she couldn't help noticing Gwaine listened very carefully to the barman's directions.
She half-expected him to sneak in during the night, but she had an incredibly peaceful, quiet night.
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In the morning, Gwaine crept into the room he knew held Krysia and he sat as far from the bed as possible, not touching her things, simply waiting for her to wake. He'd thought of waiting outside, but he couldn't contain himself. Now that he'd found her, he couldn't risk losing a second with her, couldn't risk her slipping away. And she certainly had the air of a very, very slippery woman.
She stirred and he held his breath, but it took several false alarms before she finally woke and sat up. She spotted him immediately.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's impolite to watch strangers while they sleep?"
He couldn't stop smiling, and he noticed she didn't seem all that upset, either.
"She told me a lot of things I didn't listen to, so perhaps. I didn't want to risk you leaving before I could invite you to lunch."
"Lunch?" she said.
"It's a surprise. Say yes."
"What would you do if I said no?"
"I'd ask you to reconsider."
"Until I said yes?"
"Possibly."
She rubbed her eyes a little and said, "If you leave me alone until lunch, then I suppose I can spare you that much time."
Gwaine clapped his hands together, feeling invincible as he celebrated this critical victory. Now he had to go and prepare his surprise, but he swore he'd leave her to her morning in peace.
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Krysia had a great deal of experience in putting people at ease and observing the conversations of others without drawing attention to herself. Her morning was fruitful, learning a great deal of information about the people of Willowdale, what the politics of the village were like, and how they felt about the king.
"Things will be better with Arthur," a few people explicitly said to her, which she of course would not word precisely in that way to Uther.
They have confidence in their prince, perhaps? She would think of something.
She had almost forgotten her promise to Gwaine that morning when he found her returning to the tavern from a stroll up the main area of the village. He was grinning like a fool, and she was surprised to see him holding a basket.
"What's that?" she said.
"Do you trust me?"
She should have said no, as he was technically a strange man she'd never met who had broken into her room this morning, but she did trust him. She felt so tied to him, it was as if they'd known each other all their lives.
Reluctantly, she admitted that she did trust him, and, if possible, his grin widened. He did not tell her where they were going or what was in the basket, but he led her around the village, into some trees too few to be a forest, and through a clearing to a river. He set down the basket and removed his jacket, laying it out for her to sit on, which she did.
It wasn't a grand picnic like she'd occasionally put together for others, but he'd gathered a reasonable selection of food for two, and he was so proud of himself. He let her select her food first, taking the second of everything for himself, and he laid on his side on the grass beside her, looking up at her with that same big smile.
Krysia would have enjoyed this no matter who she was with. It had been longer than she could remember since she was able to just enjoy a meal for herself, not serve someone else a nice meal and then rush to eat her own. And just lazing around in the sun in a beautiful place? She hadn't done that since she was a child. She focused on every sensation, every sound. It was marvelous.
Add on that Gwaine had done this all just to please her, she couldn't help feeling more inclined to him, and she'd already been totally taken with him.
She could stay forever, she thought, and the thought was both beautiful and terrifying.
"Are you sure you're not a princess?" he said.
He had asked her that several times the previous evening, and every time Krysia had demurred.
"Has that line ever worked?" she said.
Gwaine laughed.
"Never tried it before, either," he said. He sat up slightly on his elbow. "Does it make you uncomfortable when you tell you you're beautiful?"
"I suppose it does, a little," she said.
She wiped the grease from the chicken off her hands and onto the grass. His smile widened.
"I suppose you're not a princess after all," he said with a chuckle. "May I?"
Krysia let him take her hand, and he turned it over, examining her calluses. She could feel his, warm and dry and thick with calluses of his own. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
"It's a shame that hands so beautiful have clearly seen their share of work," he said.
"There's nothing wrong with work," Krysia said. "Work provides purpose. I don't know what I'd do without my work."
"You could travel," he said. "You could learn every language. You could have conversations with interesting people, or you could spend your time being lavished by people who admire you."
His lips lingered by her wrist, and there was a kind of promise in those words. She wondered what Gwaine would say he if he learned that she'd been offered to be a queen.
He kissed her wrist again gently, and then he let go of her hand, letting her return her hands to eating.
They lingered too long by the river that afternoon, and she knew she should have spent more time observing and meeting people of the town. She shouldn't have agreed to meet him for dinner and a drink at the tavern that evening, but she did. And she shouldn't have let him follow her back to her room, but she did.
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Gwaine reminded himself again and again and again to be a gentleman, which was difficult. It wasn't for lack of respect. He'd never respected anyone more than this beautiful woman with a laugh like music. But a combination of his appreciation of her beauty and the dreams (which had been anything but gentlemanly) were a heady, spurring mix. It was terribly enticing to coax her into bed here in this tavern, but it wasn't right. It was too soon.
He may have known her for more than a year, in a way, but he'd also just met her.
"Do you know where you're going next?" she said, combing her hair with a small wooden comb.
"I haven't decided," he said, watching her golden hair tickle the column of her neck.
"Do you know when you're going to leave?"
"I don't know."
It was hard to focus on her words when all he wanted was to press kisses along the line of her neck.
When she finished combing her hair, she sat on the edge of her bed, he sat in the chair by the door, and they talked about everything and nothing. She seemed to plait her hair when she was nervous, he realized partway through the conversation. Whenever their talk got too close to family, she would begin to plait her hair absently, then let it fall when he changed the subject. He was curious, but he understood not wanting to discuss something.
When she was clearly growing tired, Gwaine wished her sweet dreams, and he was surprised when she stood to see him out. It was the kind of manners he hadn't seen a woman use since he was a child, since he'd visited court. She claimed not to be a princess, and yet….
She hesitated before she opened the door, and Gwaine knew he shouldn't have done it. He'd meant to lean down to kiss her hand, but somewhere on the way, his brain and his body mixed signals, and he kissed the corner of her mouth instead.
He barely felt the skin of her lips, so brief it was, but they were soft and smooth and perfect. He was inviting her to lunch again before he could stop himself, and she hesitated again.
"Please," he said.
"Alright," she said. "Alright."
He left her room that night certain that he could fly.
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Krysia felt more relaxed on this second picnic. It was easy to relax with Gwaine. He had a hundred stories to share, he had a thousand pointless questions to ask. Every so often, he would remind her she was beautiful, and who didn't enjoy that, even a little?
The sun was gentler this second day, and Gwaine sat closer than he'd done the day before. Since he'd kissed her the previous night she was both afraid he might do it again and was very much hoping he would do it again.
Somehow the conversation circled back around do where they'd come from, and Krysia absently plaited her hair. Gwaine frowned slightly and he said, "Do you keep secrets well?"
She laughed before she could catch herself, and she assured the confused Gwaine that she did, in fact, keep secrets well.
He didn't look at her as he told his story. He told her about his father, who had been one of Caerleon's knights. Krysia listened quietly as he told her of his father's death and the king's lack of support for his mother.
"I take it she's passed on," Krysia said softly. "I'm sorry."
"What makes you say that?" he said, still not looking at her.
"Because the treatment of her clearly causes you pain," Krysia said, "and I doubt you would have left her if there was anything you could do to support her."
He smiled weakly and said, "Yeah, and all she left behind was my horrible sister, so naturally, I left."
"I wouldn't mind seeing my sisters again," Krysia said without thinking.
"Where are they?"
Krysia hesitated, tugging slightly at the plait she was forming in her hair. She both did and didn't want to tell him. The dragon had said that she could trust him, that he would keep her secrets, but it was always hard to speak certain things into the world.
"I'm sorry," he said, sitting up straighter. He seemed to understand from her lack of answer what she couldn't bring herself to say.
"It's been a long time," she said. "But certain things never leave us, do they?"
He nodded. They sat in silence for a long while, each watching the river flowing, each reflecting on their own revelations.
"What were your family like?" he said. "If you miss your sisters, you must have gotten along."
Krysia hummed, laying back against the grass and closing her eyes.
"I don't remember much," she said. "I'm not supposed to remember anything."
"Not supposed to?"
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and said, "Do you keep secrets well?"
"Better than anyone you've met."
She doubted that, knowing the secrets that weighed on Gaius. The secrets she didn't know he kept could probably drown a man.
"My family were killed by order of the king," she said. "I'm only alive because my father smuggled me away to a forest to be found by people who would keep me safe, he hoped."
Gwaine took her hand, and Krysia opened her eyes to find him watching her, eyes wide.
"What were they, bandits or something?"
"No," she said with a nervous laugh. "My father was a knight. My mother was the daughter of a lord."
"So you basically are a princess," he said, teasing. "A lady, anyway."
"Not a lady," she said, squeezing his hand lightly. "Have you ever met a lady with callouses?"
"What are you, then?" he said, teasing.
"I'm nobody," she said.
He clearly didn't believe her, and his lips turned to a wry smile. She stared back at him, waiting for him to say something, anything at all. She could tell he wanted something, and when he continued to watch her in silence, she prompted him.
"I just…was thinking about kissing you," he said, almost shyly.
Krysia felt an expanding in her chest, and she leaned in toward him, pressing her lips to his. Gwaine hesitated for a moment, but when he began to respond, he kissed her back eagerly, resting a hand at her waist and pulling himself close to her.
It was too easy to recall the dreams, to imagine where these kisses by the river could go. Krysia wanted to hold him closer, to kiss him, to feel whatever he wanted to do to her. But she also knew that they were still almost strangers, they were on a riverbank where anyone could see, and this wasn't quite how it was supposed to be.
They continued to exchange kisses, though, throughout the afternoon and into the evening. She half-forgot why Uther had sent her in the first place, so encompassing her need was to be near Gwaine.
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The time slipped away like water through fingers, and Gwaine knew that Krysia was preparing to leave. He found her in the stables speaking softly to a fine black horse that almost certainly wasn't her own. She really did look like a lady, about to go for a ride on a noble creature, to return to a prepared dinner and a night of leisure.
"I'm leaving soon as well," he said.
Krysia looked up, saying nothing. He wondered if she felt the ache he did, knowing that this sojourn together was ending. All he wanted was to get her to agree to stay, to stay just another day, and then another day, and then another, until they spent all their days together by the river without a care in the world except each other.
"Where will you go?" she said.
"I don't know." He crossed the stables to pat the snout of the horse, who nudged him before it went back to nuzzling Krysia's neck. "You could come with me."
Her lips twitched, although he wasn't sure they'd been about to smile. He wanted her to smile. He wanted her to want to come along, even if she didn't say yes.
"We could go everywhere you wanted," he said. "North, south, east. Anything. Have you seen the sea? It's beautiful."
"It's tempting," she said. "You can't know how tempting."
"Then come with me," he said, taking her hands in his. She wasn't meeting his eyes. "Krysia, please. I don't want to be without you."
She closed her eyes and said, "I made a promise."
She did seem to be truly torn. He was tempted to follow her, to go to whatever her life was, wherever her life was, but he had a strong sense that Krysia had more secrets, more things she didn't feel comfortable saying, and he was afraid if he offered to follow her she'd be spooked.
"I understand," he said. "Promise me something?"
"Of course."
"Promise me you'll come back."
She opened her eyes, startled.
"If you come back here," he said, "then what reason would I have to leave? I'll stay here, and I'll wait for you to come when you can, however often you can, and maybe someday your other promise will be irrelevant and I can talk you into running away with me."
She laughed, and she agreed to come back to see him. He kissed her, reveling in the smell of her, the warmth of her, the familiarity of kissing her. It was both fresh and exciting and something he'd experienced a thousand times.
"I'll come back when I can," she whispered.
"I'll be waiting, lovely," he swore.
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Krysia took a few deep breaths to gather herself before she entered the council chamber. Uther stood from his throne and dismissed everyone else when she entered and bowed. Leon passed her on his way out, smiling and nodding at her in greeting. She smiled back.
"How was your journey?" Uther said, ushering her in. "You must be tired."
"I'm fine, thank you, sire," Krysia said. "The journey went well. I had to be careful with how I asked questions, but I can assure you that the people have great confidence in Arthur. He is a particular favorite."
"That is good to hear," he said.
He had her sit, gave her a glass of wine, and asked her a string of questions about public confidence, about taxes, about the levels of comfort, prosperity, and security in the town. Krysia answered all his questions to his satisfaction, and then he said she would have the morning off to rest.
She stood and was about to leave the hall when she hesitated, turning back.
"Sire?" she said. "May I…make a request?"
"Of course," Uther said, surprised. "I don't know that you've requested anything as long as you've been in my service, Krysia. If it is reasonable, I will grant it."
"I hadn't realized until I was away," she said carefully, "how…arduous my schedule is. I do not mean to complain, of course, or to request less. I love my work. But would it be…possible to take an occasional day or two off? It was pleasant to be out for a ride, to meet new people, to just…exist for a little while."
Uther stood and for a moment she thought he would say no, his face was so serious.
"Most servants with family outside the city are granted occasional leave to visit family," he said. "It is not unreasonable to grant you such leave. There is no reason you should be denied rest leave simply because you are alone. I trust you to request in advance and plan your leave wisely, Krysia. The castle can survive without you every so often."
She smiled, thanked him, and hurried off to see Gaius and Merlin, feeling as if she was walking on the clouds themselves.
A/N:
Y'all. We did it.
She's still got some secrets, but they're going to see each other again. It'll be fun when he does finally arrive in Camelot, how it will change the dynamic of their relationship.
-C