Krysia was tired after a long night of cleaning up after a nervous young serving boy who probably wouldn't last the week without specialized training, but still she stood behind the king in the throne room, listening to a man named Joseph bring news to Uther.

"I'm a herder from the Northern Plains, sire," Joseph said. "Three nights back, we were camped beneath the walls of Idirsholas…"

"I'm not sure I would have chosen such a place," Uther said, clearly disconcerted by the mention of the fortress.

Krysia, too, was nervous of the name, although more in the way that children jump at mention of monsters.

"Good pasture is scarce, sire," Joseph said.

"What's brought you?" Uther said.

"While we were there, we…we saw smoke rising from the citadel."

Gaius looked alarmed, and Krysia felt her stomach twist.

"And did you see anything else?" Gaius prompted.

"No."

"Did you go inside?" Uther said.

"Nobody has stepped over that threshold for 300 years," Joseph said, clearly nervous even by the suggestion. "You must know the legend, sire."

"When the fires of Idirsholas burn," Krysia recited softly, "the Knights of Medhir will ride again."

"See that he is given a meal before he returns home," Uther said to Krysia, who nodded to Clay. Clay hurried forward to show Joseph out.

"Take a ride out there," Uther added softly to Arthur.

"Why?" Arthur said.

"So that we can put people's minds at rest."

But Krysia could tell that this was more to put Uther's mind at rest than anything else.

"Surely this is superstitious nonsense," Arthur said, more amused than anything else.

"Sire," Krysia whispered, "perhaps a small scouting—"

"Gather the guard," Uther said sharply to his son, "and do as I say."

/-/

That evening, Uther watched Krysia turn down the bed again, but his mind was on the Northern Plains. It had been sometime since he had been so far north in person, not since he wasn't so much older than Arthur. What could have wakened the knights, however…

"You believe in the legend, as Gaius does, I presume?" he whispered.

Krysia paused, then stood a bit straighter and said, "I have learned from years working with Gaius, sire, that it's dangerous to assume that just because something is a legend, it isn't also true."

"The herder looked genuinely afraid," he said.

"For a herder to leave his animals and come so far to give you the news," she said, "he clearly does believe that there is danger."

Uther had come to much the same conclusion, and he watched her stoke the fire a bit higher for the night. There was a special skill in having a fire maintain long enough for him to be deeply asleep and not woken by the cold, and Krysia did have that to an art. Strange to think of such an earthy skill with someone so smooth and soft and delicate.

"The question is what to do if the legend is true," he said. "You should get some sleep, Krysia. You may not always tell me, but I am aware that you have been working especially late."

/-/

"How are we this morning, sire?" Krysia said, pulling back the hangings from the bed.

It wasn't like the king to be in bed so late, but when she pulled back the hangings, she could understand why. He was clearly ill with something, and he was exhausted. He squinted at the light and tried to sit up. Krysia pressed him back down.

"I'm fine," he said. "I have to—"

"Rest, sire," she said firmly. "You have to rest. At least until you can be seen to."

She hurried into the corridor and was pleased to see Geraint and Brennis passing.

"Sirs," she said, and both stopped, astonished by her urgency. "Please, if you could send me someone to watch over the king and Gaius as quickly as possible. He's not well, but he will argue, I'm certain."

"I'll send Leon right away," Brennis said, hurrying off.

"I'll fetch Gaius personally," Geraint said. "How bad?"

"I'm really not sure," Krysia admitted, "but it's very sudden. He was melancholy last night, but no sign of illness."

Geraint hurried away, and Krysia returned to Uther's side, where he was trying to sit up again. She pressed his shoulders down impatiently.

He was still squinting up at her, and he said, "Need I remind you that I am your king?"

"Need I remind you, sire, that I am responsible for your care and well-being?" she said. "Have I ever pressed you when it was not completely necessary?"

Leon entered without ceremony, then quickly bowed to the king as Krysia went to speak with him.

"What is his condition?" Leon whispered.

"Uncertain," Krysia said. "He's struggling to even sit up, although he routinely tries. His fever is so strong, I can feel the warmth of his flesh through his night shirt when I press him back down again."

They both turned to look at the bed, where Uther was suspiciously still, as though summoning his strength to sit up again. He was watching them, however, and she thought he wouldn't try with their attention on him.

"No sign of illness last night?" Leon whispered.

"Not in the slightest," Krysia said back. "Leon, I'm very worried that—"

The door opened again, and Krysia was startled to have Leon take her hand and pull her out of the way of the door, against him, as if he was expecting the person entering to have a knife. Naturally, it was only Gaius.

"Apologies," Leon said.

Krysia tried not to roll her eyes about his mother hen behavior, and she watched Gaius go to the King's side, feeling his face and pulse, checking his eyes.

"I have short business that needs attending to," Uther told Gaius, as though he might be more an ally in getting out of bed.

"You have to stay in bed, sire," Gaius said. "You have a fever. I'll prepare a tonic for you."

He went back toward the door, and he whispered to Leon and Krysia, "When did he first fall ill?"

"It came on this morning, from what I understand," Leon said, and Krysia nodded. "It's not something to worry about?"

Gaius considered the question, then said, "No. It'll soon pass. Be sure to let me know if there's any change."

/-/

Leon had decided to stay and assist Krysia as she watched over the king. As Uther fell unconscious, Krysia used cool cloths to try to lessen the fever, and Uther watched her hands, the very particular way she moved her hands.

"It must be cold work, that," he said. "Should I start the fire?"

"Best not," Krysia said. "Give it another hour or so for the fever to—"

She yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her free hand.

"Another late night?" he said. "You work too hard, Krysia."

"If I didn't, nothing would ever be done right," she said. "But actually, I had a fairly early night last night. The king said much as you did and sent me away—"

She stood, and he watched her tilt slightly. Leon hurried forward and caught her as her knees gave out.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm just so tired."

Her arms were so warm, he could feel the unusual heat through his gloves, and before he could remark that she, too, must have taken ill, her eyelids flickered shut. Leon scooped her into his arms to keep her from hitting the floor, and he looked around for somewhere to rest her that wouldn't be dangerous for her neck. He thought of laying her on the table, but it seemed ignominious for someone of her stature.

"I'll find you a bed," he said gently. "I'll get you to Gaius. Everything's going to be fine."

He carried her out of the king's chambers. He justified it to himself by saying that they would get the tonic from Gaius, and he could return directly to the king. At first, that seemed reasonable, but as he walked along the castle corridors, he noticed more and more people who had simply lost consciousness about their work, asleep in the corridors, slumped against walls if they were lucky. He could feel his own tiredness increase, and he realized that whatever this was, it was a matter of time before he succumbed as well. He didn't even have the energy to be alarmed.

"Where's close?" he said, pausing to take stock of how far he'd come.

There were a few guest chambers, comfortable enough to lay her down on an unmade bed so that he could continue to Gaius. If he was lucky, he'd get far enough to get the tonic for himself, for her, and then for the king. Was that the right order? He wasn't sure anymore.

"This one," he said, opening a nearby door and carrying her to the mattress. "Apologies that there are no pillows, my lady, but it is undoubtably better than a table."

He paused to make sure her neck was in a more comfortable position, which was perhaps a mistake, because he'd not turned all the way around before he felt the full force of his exhaustion. At least he was able to get her somewhere safe and comfortable he thought, as he saw the stone of the floor approach his head, and then he lost consciousness.

/-/

Leon woke to someone saying his name and the feeling of a hand on his face. The hand was familiar, pleasant, warm, as was the voice. If it were not so urgent, he would simply savor this moment, how pleasant it all felt. Instead, he opened his eyes and looked up at Krysia's face.

"The bruising's already begun," she said. "Can you sit up?"

"What happened?" he said, sitting up slowly and trying to ignore the soreness and stiffness on his left side.

"Not sure," she said. "I woke up on that mattress and found you passed out on the floor. How's your vision?"

She held a finger up and moved it back and forth for him to follow.

"Perfect," he said, taking her hand and folding the finger back into it. "Really, my lady, I feel fine."

"Leon, please, this isn't funny," she said.

"Relax," he whispered, squeezing her hand gently. "You feel well. I feel well. I have my sword and you have your—" He swallowed the word magic, nervous that it almost came out. "Wits," he said. She didn't seem to notice the difference. "We'll be alright."

"Alright," Krysia said, and they stood together. "You're sure your head is alright? The bruising is—"

"It will heal," he said. "Let's go find out what's happened.

/-/

A great deal had happened, it would seem. According to Arthur, Morgause enchanted the whole castle asleep, used the Knights of Medhir to take the castle, and then tried to kill, then kidnap Morgana. According to Merlin, Morgana was the source of the sickness, and he had to poison her to lift the enchantment and save them all.

Krysia was just glad she'd been asleep, because she didn't want to know what she'd have done, faced with saving the kingdom or killing one of her closest childhood friends.

Uther spent much of his time in his chambers that day, ostensibly recovering, but Krysia stayed with him, and she knew he was turning over what had happened, what he could have done differently, and what he would do if Morgana could not be found.

She opened the door to a knock, and she wasn't surprised to see Arthur. He nodded to her, and she bowed slightly.

"I could not find you," Arthur said to his father. "Are you alright?"

"Is there still no sign of her?" Uther said.

"We've looked, father."

"Morgause must not be allowed to get away with this!" Uther said, slamming his fist against the wall.

Krysia shivered slightly, thinking of how she found Leon, his face very flat on the floor, to the point that she'd been worried he'd broken bones in his face—Gaius assured her it was simple bruising and swelling—and she only relaxed when she noticed that Uther showed no pain from the impact.

"She will not, sire," Krysia said softly. "She will not."

Arthur was about to leave, and Uther, without turning, said, "Arthur?" His son paused. "I have not had a chance to say thank you."

Instead of accepting the thanks, Arthur hesitated and said, "I failed, father. I should have protected Morgana."

"No," Uther said. "That was my duty. Her loss will forever be on my conscience, not yours."

Uther's conscience, and Merlin's Krysia thought bitterly. If only Uther knew.

/-/

Uther watched Krysia work that evening, and he couldn't shake the feeling of the past weighing heavily on him. Even if she was nothing to do with Zosia, Morgana had been one of the last ties to the people who were dearest to him. So precious to him, and now…now she was gone.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Krysia," he said.

Her laugh was warm and pleasant, too familiar, not of Zosia (not entirely, at least), but of Marcial. The connection was eerie, and almost made him call for Gaius right away. Surely this was not all in his mind.

But now was not the time.

"I have Sir Leon's worrying keeping me in line, sire," she said. "I don't need you worrying too."

He watched her stoke the fire again, and he tried not to think of his losses, not only to avoid thinking of those connections, but also to stave off the impending melancholy that had threatened to consume him since Morgana's disappearance.

"He is excessively attentive to you," Uther said softly. "Perhaps someday he'll propose."

She dropped the poker, she was so startled by the suggestion, and she laughed again, nervously this time.

"I think not, sire," she said, retrieving the poker and returning to her work.

"The future is a fickle thing," he said. "It often takes us to surprising places."

She looked at him with sadness, but she didn't express her pity, for which he was grateful. Instead, she said, "Will there be anything else, sire?"

"No," he said. "No, that is all."

As she bowed and left, he fought the urge to call Gaius or even Geoffrey to his chambers. A coincidence, Gaius had said. And Gaius was so right about so much. Surely if she was who Uther suspected, Gaius would already know.

But the more times he had to tell himself that, the less he truly believed it. Not tonight, but someday soon, he knew he would have to inquire with Geoffrey. If Gaius was right, his mind would be at rest. But if he was wrong…

What would he have to do then?

/-/

When Krysia arrived back to her bed, Merlin was already sitting on his, brooding, staring at the wall like he expected it to jump at him.

"You did the right thing," she said.

"Gaius said that too," he said. "About Morgana. But I've done something else, now, too."

"Yes?"

It was not lost on her, the difference between the mattress she had woken on that afternoon and the one she was laying on now. She tried not to think about it.

"I've freed the dragon."

A chill ran over Krysia, and she took down her hair to keep from freezing, to keep from worrying Merlin.

"Didn't you have a vision that—"

"That he would fight Camelot?" Merlin said. "Yes, I did. But I made a promise, and I couldn't keep putting it off."

He turned his back and she changed into her night clothes. When she was in her bed, he turned back around.

"Do you still think I did the right thing?" he whispered.

Krysia tried to get comfortable under the scratchy but warm sheets. She wasn't sure it was the right thing, but mostly the dragon had been more helpful than not. And he wouldn't want harm to come to Arthur, surely.

"I suppose we'll find out," she said, and Merlin put out the candle between them with a nod.

She slipped into sleep, into dreams, easily, smoothly.

Krysia stood in a corner of the castle, looking down at the square. She was waiting for something, for someone, but she felt someone come up behind her. Instead of being nervous, she smiled as gloved hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. Familiar lips on the back of her neck.

"They'll be back tomorrow, lovely," Gwaine's voice said near her ear. "Relax. Come with me."

"But if they're back early—"

"If you come with me to our chambers," he whispered, "I will make you forget you're even waiting for something."

The promise in his voice was tempting, and she knew he was right. Arthur and Merlin wouldn't be back until the morning at the earliest, but she couldn't help worrying.

She turned to see him, his face so close it was hard to see or have a concept of anything other than his closeness. She accepted his kiss gratefully, eagerly. One of the hands on her waist slid up her side toward her breasts, and she pulled out of the kiss, enjoying his disappointed grunt at the loss.

"Not in the corridor," she said.

"Then come to our chambers," he said, taking her hands and kissing each one. "I'll leave the gloves on if you'd like."

Krysia let him lead her up the corridor, to his promises…

/-/

Gwaine woke barely able to breathe, he was so deep into the dream he'd been having. He could taste Krysia's skin, even when awake, as if she were there beside him in the bed in Willowdale and not in whatever sumptuous bed had been in the dream. He could smell her, feel her, and his body didn't seem aware that he wasn't in the middle of intercourse at this moment.

It had been so long since the last dream, he'd almost forgotten how brutal it could be to wake from one. He considered going for a little swim in the river to cool off, but with how cold it was this time of year, he was bound to take ill.

He decided to close his eyes and relieve the pressure himself, and to soak in the sensations of the dream for as long as humanly possible. If it was all he had for now, it had to be enough.

A/N:

To SarahELupin:

Thank you! I actually find Uther to be one of the most interesting characters, which is something I try to capture as much as possible. This is a man who became what he is by guilt-strewn grief. He literally killed his wife and could not cope with that shame, which led him to be, well, kind of a monster. But he's also a man who deeply loves his children, who cares about his kingdom, who wants to have peace and comfort and prosperity for his people. When you compare him with the other kings who put heads on spikes, he's actually pretty great.

Had to toss in a little bit of Gwaine for y'all. We're so, so close.

-C