Gwaine woke with a start and rolled over in the bed in the tavern where he'd tried to make himself useful. He was disappointed, though not surprised, to find the bed empty, and he took deep breaths and reminded himself Krysia said she would come back. It was why he'd helped the barman and his wife by getting rid of troublemakers in exchange for room and board.

He took a deep breath and searched his memories for the clearest ones of Krysia, of their brief days together by the river, and the feel of her hair in his fingers. She had hair softer than any fabric he'd ever known and brighter than steel. It wasn't the most romantic way of putting it, but he didn't worry too much about it. He'd not been brave or clever enough to really tell her how he felt when she was there, anyway, so trying to dream up poetic things to say just seemed like a waste of time.

Any day now, he told himself, raising himself out of the bed and pulling on his shirt. Any day she would come back, stay a little while, and maybe he could convince her to stay forever. Any day.

/-/

Krysia inhaled deeply the cool of the morning, excited to get underway. Uther was feeling especially generous after her and Merlin talking Arthur down—generous to her, anyway—and she was going to take advantage of the opportunity to have him make good on his promise for a couple of days to herself.

It looked a bit overcast, but it didn't smell like rain, so Krysia had packed her cloak, but she was looking forward to riding without it. She supposed she'd take the brown mare no one ever wanted to ride. She wasn't a stately horse, but she was sturdy and behaved. Krysia startled when she saw Leon step into stride with her.

"I heard you're going away for a couple of days again," he said.

"Yes," she said, turning toward the stables. Leon turned with her. "The king is very generous."

"I don't like the idea of you going alone," Leon said.

Krysia couldn't help smiling. Sometimes, Leon was like having a doting mother. When she was in a good mood, she appreciated it.

"It's really nothing, Leon. I have my knife, and I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he said earnestly. "I just…won't you be lonely?"

Krysia laughed, and she thanked him when he held the door to the stables for her.

"I'll go with you," he said. "I'm sure Arthur would grant me a couple of days, and—"

"Leon, the whole point is to spend some time on my own," she said, feeling a little bad for not telling him she was meeting someone. She didn't know why, but it felt important to keep Gwaine to herself, and she didn't think Leon would understand.

Leon set his jaw, and Krysia prepared for him to be stubborn and insist that he go with her, or that she do something daft like taking Merlin. She was already beginning to form her argument when he nodded.

"I thought you might say that," he said.

Krysia watched him stride along the stables, and she couldn't help smiling as he retrieved Ember, already saddled and ready to ride.

"At least take her," he said, "so I know you're not alone. I took the liberty—"

"You didn't need to," she said, feeling shy for a reason she couldn't explain. It was only Leon being Leon, but somehow it felt different.

"Of course I did," Leon said. "She'll take you wherever you're going safely, and…and at least if you have Ember, I know you'll come back."

He sounded so sad, it actually startled Krysia.

"Leon, don't be ridiculous," she said. "This my home. I'll always come back."

He seemed to want to say something else, but instead, he led Ember out of the stables and helped Krysia mount. She had a feeling, as she rode out of town, that if she turned back, she would see Leon watching her ride away. That felt sad and uncomfortable, although she couldn't put her finger on why.

/-/

Krysia felt warmth all over her body as soon as she stepped into the tavern and saw Gwaine eating in the corner. He looked up the moment she entered, and his smile spread over his face instantly. He left his food, he left his drink, and he crossed to her as if she was family coming home from a long journey. He kissed her hand and said, "Welcome back, lovely."

Being near him was intoxicating, and she forgot about everything except that she was near him, they were both happy, and there was time that was all theirs. He didn't have to say a word, he led her back to his seat and nodded to the barman, who brought more of what he was having. It was stew, and it was good, but Krysia hardly noticed it. She simply was enjoying the warmth of him, the nearness, his hand brushing her arm, and his eyes not leaving her even to look at his food.

"I don't know how long it's been," he said, "I really don't. But every second has been too long."

"How have you been occupying yourself?" she said.

He told her about his arrangement with the barman, he told her about some of the barfights he'd put out, and every minute they seemed to lean closer and closer together.

"How long are you here?" he finally whispered.

"Just two days," she said.

He groaned, and she knew neither of them believed it was long enough, but it would have to do for the moment.

Krysia couldn't have said how they got from the food to his room, but they sat together by the window, watching the beginning of the rain. She rested her head on his chest, and Gwaine wrapped his arms around her waist and cuddled her back against him.

"You smell nice," he said.

"How flattering," she said, smiling in spite of herself.

"Sorry," he said. "I promise I think of you much more…brilliantly than that, but I don't know how to tell you any of it because you make me nervous."

She sat up and turned to look him in the eye and said, "Me? Why would I make you nervous?"

His smile was weak and a bit shy. He leaned in a little and said, "How do you express perfection with anything other than a single word?"

"That's ridiculous," she said, trying not to laugh.

But he was so earnest, and he almost made her believe. They stared at each other for a long while, neither daring to speak, until he finally leaned in and kissed her. Krysia leaned eagerly into the kiss, enjoying the warmth of his mouth, the rough but gentle familiarity of his hands. They spent the evening kissing to the sound of the rain until they could no longer justify her staying, and Krysia promised to see him in the morning.

/-/

Gwaine woke feeling like a child again. Getting out of bed was not early enough, and he went down to the bar before the barman was there, but his wife was putting breakfast together for the regulars and the paying borders.

The barman's wife, a kind woman named Tara, smiled when she saw Gwaine, and she gave him a plate with sausages and tomatoes.

"Your friend is very pretty," Tara said.

"She's beautiful," Gwaine said. He couldn't stop smiling.

"She's not staying long?"

His lips twitched, and he said, "No, not this time. But she'll be back."

"She seems happy to see you, anyway," Tara said. "My advice?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"If you have a girl that pretty who seems that kind, tie her to you sooner than later, because she'll have a lot of admirers."

Gwaine couldn't argue with that. He knew Krysia must be admired by almost everyone, but she still seemed skittish about talking about her life, so he didn't want to press her. He'd been given dreams of her for a reason, so he had to believe that she would be his eventually, but he had to be patient.

When Krysia came downstairs, Gwaine had Tara do up a plate for her as well, only to find the kind woman had already done one up. Krysia sat close to him, and it was everything he could do not to just pull her into his lap and kiss her. It was all he ever wanted to do. Instead, he kissed her cheek and leaned in as close as he could justify.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," she said. She seemed sad, but he didn't dare ask why. "The weather seems better today. Are you…busy?"

Gwaine glanced over her shoulder at Tara, who winked at him and gestured to assure him that he was free if he wanted. He would have to find some way to thank her later.

"Free as anything," he said. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

They walked to the river, and the grass was a little damp, but Krysia didn't seem to notice, dropping onto it without a second thought. Gwaine had already known he was in love with her, but when she did things like that, it was a reminder of what character she had. She might have been born to people with titles, but she didn't see herself as special for that.

Gwaine laid down on the grass beside her, and he was thrilled when she rolled closer and kissed him. Gwaine kissed her back, eager, desperate. She couldn't possibly know how tempting it was to just have her, here and now, by the river, their special place. His dreams had given him a taste of what it would be. He felt in some ways that he had every right, provided she said yes.

But he also felt she deserved so much more, so much better than that. As much as he wanted her, he needed to be patient, which wasn't something he was very good at.

"Do you know when you'll be back?" he said, arranging himself to curl around her a bit, to be near to her in as many parts of his body as he could manage.

"I'm not sure," she said, a little reluctant. "I'll try to be back soon. I promise."

He trusted her, and he said as much. He kissed her hand and they watched the birds and the water and the world pass them by. Gwaine silently wished for many more days just like this, however he could get them.

/-/

Leon had requested to be stationed on the battlements for the day, and Arthur had been surprised by the request, but he granted it.

"Krysia gets back in today, doesn't she?" Geraint said, teasing.

Leon grunted, and he pulled on his boots. He didn't want to give Geraint any satisfaction, but it was difficult. The sooner he got on the wall, the sooner he could avoid the questions, but until then, Geraint was peppering him with them.

"You sent her on Ember again, didn't you?"

If he were to look up at Geraint, Leon knew his friend would be smirking at him, smug and obnoxious. Instead, he kept his head down, looking at his boots as said that yes, he had. She had looked at him with such warmth, such softness when she saw Ember ready and saddled. Leon wanted to save that memory and savor it all his life.

"Very generous of you," Geraint said.

The teasing was gone from his voice, so Leon dared to look up at his friend. They stared at each other for a long minute.

"Aren't you afraid?" Geraint finally said.

"Afraid of what?" Leon said. "Krysia can take care of herself."

"I know," Geraint said with a fond whisper. "Aren't you afraid she's going to meet some man who sweeps her off her feet before you can work up the nerve to tell her how you feel?"

The teasing was still absent from Geraint's voice, but Leon looked down at his boots again, focusing on the laces.

"It is not a question of nerve," Leon finally said. "She deserves a far better man than me. I would never stand in the way of her happiness."

Geraint looked uncharacteristically grim when Leon stood, looking up again. Leon would have thought someone had been brutally injured, so serious was his friend.

"Leon, you make her happy," Geraint said. "Everyone knows it. She brightens when she sees you. She breaks her focus to speak with you. You're the only person she ever allows to do anything courteous for her. You deserve to be happy as well."

"No," Leon said, and his friend startled. "Not that I deserve to be unhappy, but…Krysia has had everything ripped from her, Geraint. She has nothing and no one. Even if we ever found her heritage, those years are lost, and I suspect the people are long lost as well. I have had nothing but comfort in my past. There is no one I know who more deserves happiness than Krysia because it has so long been denied it."

"You think she is unhappy in Camelot?" Geraint said.

Leon smiled weakly and said, "You know we speak of something different. I could never give her that kind of happiness."

"You sell yourself short, my friend."

Leon didn't think so, but he just clapped his hand to Geraint's upper arm and left to the battlements.

The morning was quiet, but just as he was about to go on his break for lunch, he saw a very familiar horse ride into the city. Leon held his breath, seeing Geraint greet her. Leon watched Geraint help Krysia down from her horse, and she was laughing at something he said, telling him something animatedly.

Geraint was quite wrong, Leon thought bitterly. Krysia had rode into town as if she was a conquering hero, and she had the levity and brilliance now of someone who truly new and understood all she was worth in the world. Whatever Geraint thought of Leon brightening Krysia's countenance, it was nothing to this. Leon did not make Krysia happy: he made her comfortable. She had always deserved far more than that.

/-/

The familiar scent of the tavern was a bit emptier without the sweetness of Krysia, without the perfume of her hair, the warmth of her smile. Gwaine could already feel the coldness of her absence settle over him as he stirred his stew aimlessly.

"Is my food suddenly insufficient?"

Gwaine startled when Anna sat beside him at the table, setting a new cup of ale in front of him.

"No, it is as excellent as ever," he said. He forced a weak smile, but she knew what was wrong without him ever having to say.

"She will come back," Tara said softly. "But you could always follow her."

He took a long drink of the ale and set it down beside the barely-touched stew.

"I could," he said. "Part of me thinks I should. But there's two ways to hunt. You can pursue a creature until it's trapped, and then all there's left is to kill the thing, or you can gently follow and admire the creature, so that it might feel comfortable enough to eat from your hand."

"That's not called hunting, Gwaine," Tara said, smiling. "That's called taming. And I'd be careful using that comparison, because it seems to me, she's the one taming you."

Gwaine laughed and took a few spoonfuls of stew. He wanted to argue with her, but he knew Tara was right. He could feel something in him changing every time he saw her, softening and binding him to her. Perhaps it was like a horse being broken in by a kind master. He could think of worse fates.

"She'll be back," Tara said. "But until then, the roof needs patching."

"I'll do it first thing after lunch," Gwaine said.

/-/

Uther had thought to tell Krysia how things did not run as smooth without her, but when she came to his quarters to bring papers for his consideration the evening she returned, she had a glow about her that he had never seen before. He realized how good the time away had been for her, and he felt if he mentioned how much she was missed, even in jest, she would feel guilty.

Not for remotely the first time, he was reminded of the late Lady Zosia when he saw her, this time not because of her hair, or her features, or her coloring. The way she carried herself, the little melody she hummed while she arranged the papers in their stacks, even the absent smile that tickled at her lips—this was like looking at Lady Zosia again in the flesh.

A shiver ran over him as she retrieved some wax from his desk for sealing documents. Even the way she closed her hand around things, it was so familiar. How many times had he carefully watched the Lady Zosia gracefully lift a fork, a spoon, a pen? And Aredian's reminders, however discredited the man was, did linger with Uther. If she was the grandchild of Lord Inthorn and ever was somehow seduced into magic…. She would have the power and the knowledge to bring Camelot to its knees single-handedly.

"Will there be anything else, sire?" she said.

Uther stared at her in the firelight, torn between the desire to have a piece of Zosia still alive in the world and the fear of what it would mean, were it true. He should ask Geoffrey to search the records, but he also felt the records were better left untouched. What if he found what he did not wish to find? What would he have to do?

"Just get the window before you go," he said softly. "It looks to be a chilly night."

"Of course, sire," she said.

He watched her close the window, and he watched her leave, and he closed his eyes and whispered into the stillness of the room.

"For a woman who wanted to be left alone," he said, "you do linger, don't you, Zo? If you…if this is you, haunting me somehow, please lift the visions from my eyes. I don't want her to suffer for your spite. And if this is a test…." He let out a low, bitter laugh. "Zo, I never could pass your tests. I beg you, let me be."

He wasn't sure he believed in ghosts, but if anyone had enough stubbornness of will to come back to haunt him, it was Zosia. If he was only talking to the wind, no harm done. But if she was there, perhaps she would take pity on the girl. It seemed more likely than the tricks his mind was playing on him. He only hoped he would wake to find that the similarities were all a dream.