Gwaine nearly dropped the axe mid-swing when he saw a familiar horse and rider come into Willowdale. He caught himself and tossed it aside to avoid injury before he ran forward to greet Krysia. She laughed as he helped her off the horse, swinging her around, excited, before letting her feet touch the ground.
"Have you missed me, then?" she said.
"More than words," he said.
He pressed a firm kiss to her lips and was relieved when she kissed him back even more eagerly. Gwaine pulled her close, smiling into the kiss when her arms slid around his neck to return the favor. He would have stood there all morning, had the horse not gently nudged them apart with her snout.
"Alright, Ember," Krysia said, letting go of him to lead the horse to the nearby stable. "She knows what she's been promised."
Gwaine walked with her to the stables, forgetting entirely about the wood he'd promised Tara. He asked about how her ride was, how long she might stay, and whether she might be convinced to stay longer when she only said three nights.
He remembered the wood when he walked into the tavern emptyhanded beside Krysia and saw the twitch of Tara's eyebrow.
"I'll be with you in a moment, lovely," he said. "I've got to finish something."
Krysia asked no questions, just agreed and went to the bar. Gwaine had never split wood faster in all his life, and when he finished and found her at their usual table inside, he slid an arm around her waist and said, "Have you missed me, then?"
"Not especially," she said.
Gwaine laughed, and he thanked Tara when she put some food and drinks in front of them. As soon as Tara had walked away from the table, Gwaine leaned in and pressed a kiss to Krysia's smooth, perfect jaw.
"Three nights," he said. "You're sure? You're really sure?"
"I'm afraid so," she said. "You'd better make every minute of it worthwhile."
"I plan on it," he said.
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Leon tried not to show his distractedness as he watched the king review the reports he'd compiled from all the returned scouts. The news was not what the king wanted: there were not even whispers at present of where Morgana might be held. Leon wished there had been, or he would not have had to send Krysia away again on his horse, ostensibly to ask in nearby villages for news of the Lady Morgana or anything that might point to Morgause.
"You still think my decision was unwise," the king said suddenly, setting down the report.
"Sire?" Leon said, startled.
"Do you deny that you did not agree with my decision to send Krysia for information?" the king said softly.
Leon hesitated. He knew it would be foolish to lie to the king, but to tell the king he thought the decision was unwise? Surely that would be just as foolish.
The king took up the report again, not looking at Leon as he said, "She has contacts in the villages, and there is no one on staff more resourceful. Surely you would agree with that, Sir Leon."
"Indeed, sire," Leon said.
Where was this going? Apart from the king's obsession with finding the Lady Morgana, which Leon could understand even if he felt it might go too far, the king had also become increasingly interested in Krysia, spending more time in her presence, requesting her outside her usual hours, inquiring about her whereabouts when she was not available. Leon knew this could not mean well for Krysia's future, if it meant in the slightest that the king was beginning to wonder about her origin.
Again, the king set down the report, this time looking directly at Leon.
"She's very capable," the king said.
"Indeed she is, sire," Leon said, feeling his nerves grate with every question.
"No," the king said, sitting back in his chair. "Not merely as a servant. She is highly capable of taking care of herself. She puts others at ease, she gathers information well, and she is quite comfortable with a knife."
Leon could have added that she was rather handy with a sword as well, but he thought it best not to draw further scrutiny if the king did not remember that fact. Daughters of knights were sometimes quite handy with swords, as was the Lady Morgana, but it was more infrequent with serving girls.
"Traditional methods have failed me," Uther said. "If I'm to find my ward, I need to consider other options. Krysia had no objections."
"Sire, it is not my place to question," Leon said quickly. "Whatever my own thoughts and feelings on the matter, you are the king, and it is well within your rights to send your servants on whatever errands you see fit."
Was it Leon's imagination, or did the king look almost…satisfied with this response? Perhaps he was just looking to put Leon in his place, to remind Leon to keep his opinions to himself better when they were not asked for. Perhaps—
"Feelings are the crux of the matter, are they not?" the king said softly.
Leon froze, feeling his throat tighten. Had Geraint been making jokes in front of the other nights? Had Brennis mentioned something? Did the whole castle know? Did Krysia?
"I was a young man once," Uther said. "As was your father. I recall his courtship. A very simple, very swift, very suitable affair. There was never anyone but your mother for him. You have his temperament."
"Thank you, sire," Leon said.
Could Uther hear the dryness in Leon's throat? Leon felt like he might choak, trying to speak.
"He would be disappointed," the king said, suddenly cold. "As would your mother, I imagine. Pining after a serving girl."
"Sire?" Leon managed to say, pushing the word through his lips, mortified.
Uther sat forward and said, "A knight can marry whomever he likes, within reason, of course, but if you wish to raise or maintain your family's stature, as your work has certainly enabled you to do, you need to be mindful of your choice of wife."
Leon had a feeling this lecture had been long in the forming and suspected that it would be long in duration if he did not cut it off now. For the sake of his pride, he had to cut it off now.
"Sire, if you would permit me to speak a moment," Leon said, drawing himself as tall as he could in his chair. Uther paused, waiting to hear the rest. "I have no intention of marrying Krysia. As you suggest, it would be a wholly unsuitable union."
Never mind that it would be unsuitable for her and not the other way around.
"Good," Uther said, standing suddenly. Leon watched him as he paced to the far window. He did not turn to look at Leon as he said, "It's for the best. Return when as soon as any of the remaining scouts report in."
Leon assured the king that he would, and he hurried out of the council chamber with the distinct feeling that he'd just been chastised and strong-armed, and he wasn't sure why it happened, or why it made him so uncomfortable.
/-/
Krysia left Gwaine at the door with a flurry of kisses and a promise to take a long walk with him in the morning. She settled onto the bed to remove her boots, and she could scarcely breathe for how excited she was to be near Gwaine again.
She did feel a bit of a dampening of her joy knowing she'd lied to get another visit. She had no intention of searching out Morgana, not after everything that had happened when Morgause stormed the citadel. She would return to Camelot with the same story the scouts had: no sign. In the meantime, she could steal a few days with Gwaine, a few precious days.
She took a sip of her potion and carefully slipped the bottle into her boot to avoid it drawing attention when Gwaine inevitably ended up waking her or spending a lazy afternoon with her in privacy.
She was nearly giddy with the possibilities, and a little afraid of them all at once. They still didn't really know each other, not in all the ways that mattered, and yet she knew him so deeply in many of the ways she'd never known anyone. She didn't know what the answers were, but she knew there must be answers in how to move forward. In her dreams, they were in Camelot together, so how did she get from this to there?
She blew out the candle, she pulled up the blanket, and she stared at the ceiling, too excited to sleep.
/-/
Gaius sat down for dinner with Uther in the king's quarters, and Uther wasted no time before he said, "Is Krysia courting?"
Gaius was clearly startled by the question, but he took a moment to gather himself before saying, "If she is, I would be astonished. Where she would find the time would be quite a mystery, and how she would keep it such a secret would be another."
Uther hummed and swirled his wine thoughtfully, recalling the fear in Leon that morning. He should feel so satisfied and scaring the young man, but he'd never forgotten how he'd felt standing and watching Zosia standing across from Marcial in front of everyone, swearing to be Marcial's faithful wife. Even if Gaius was right and the suspicions were unfounded, Uther didn't think he could watch something so similar all over again.
"You're right, naturally," Uther said. "She's quite busy."
Gaius picked up his spoon and said, "Too busy. There isn't a servant in these walls who works more demanding hours."
"I have told her as much myself," Uther said. He took a sip of his wine, feeling the subtle burn on the back of his tongue. She would have selected a better one, but finding Morgana was more important than having Krysia select the best wines.
"Perhaps," Gaius said. "However, she knows your exacting standards, and she feels it important that they are always met, even if she drives herself to illness doing it."
Again, Uther hummed. If he was fully honest with himself, when he was fully honest with himself, that was one of his favorite things about Krysia. No one in the castle, not even Arthur, was willing to work so hard to please him. He didn't even think it was a matter of loyalty. Pride, perhaps, in her work. He liked to think there was some genuine affection for him in the actions, but perhaps the similarities to Zosia muddled matters for him.
"Have you given more thought to my inquiry?" Uther said softly after several long minutes.
Gaius set down his spoon, sat back, and looked Uther directly in the eye before he said, "I presume you mean about Krysia and your theory about Lady Zosia."
"Have you given it thought?"
"I have, sire," Gaius said.
Uther could feel the wall go up, could sense the answer from the turn of the corners of Gaius's lips. That particular set of his mouth only ever meant that Gaius was about to disagree. He knew what would be said, but he needed it said aloud, regardless.
"And?" Uther said.
Gaius lifted his chin a little and said, "I still cannot give credence to anything more than a passing similarity in coloring, sire. As much as you seem to want to hear the contrary, I believe it is a combination of age and nostalgia that has brought on this line of thinking, not a genuine similarity. Else would you or I or anyone else have noticed much sooner?"
That had occurred to Uther, but Krysia was still quite young. It had been a great many years since he'd seen Zosia, and although his memory of her in many ways was still so sharp, the years had not left it perfect. Was that a point in his favor or Gaius's? He couldn't be certain.
"Say you're right," Uther said, waving a hand. "Say this is all in my mind, wishful thinking, what do you think I might be wishing for?"
"That depends," Gaius whispered. "If I had said to you now that you were correct, that Krysia was somehow the long-lost child of Lady Zosia and Sir Marcial, the heir to Carneath and Malgrave, the last of both House Adaire and House Elmere, completely unawares and serving you all these years as if she had not a drop of nobility in her blood?"
Uther stared at the fire over Gaius's shoulder, thinking of Krysia kneeling to stoke that same fire so many hundreds of nights. She did look so like Zosia. It was surely undeniable. Wasn't it?
"If I had agreed with you," Gaius continued, a bit louder, "what would you have done? Welcomed her with open arms? Slated her for an execution at first sight of her? Sent a knight after her to drag her back to answer for the crimes of her family? Sent a rider to tell her she was banished? What would you have done?"
Uther leaned back from the table, from his wine. The dinner suddenly smelled so strong, so strange to him, that it made his head ache.
"I don't know," he admitted, staring at the fire. "I don't know."
/-/
Leon leaned over the rotations that Arthur had drawn up for evening shifts. Cador had the wing near the library half the nights of the week, Robert the other half. Leon wondered how much he could conceivably change without drawing questions.
"What are you doing?" Geraint said.
So startled by the suddenness of his friend's approach, Leon jerked backwards and knocked the back of his head on a nearby cabinet. He swore and held his hand to his head, carefully turning to see Geraint's incredulous amusement.
"Did it sneak up on you?" Geraint said.
"No, you did," Leon said. "I was just reviewing the scheduling. I've been pulling double shifts with so many search parties out, and I wanted a less…eventful part of the castle to patrol. For security's sake."
"If you put yourself on patrol near Gaius's chambers, no one will be fooled by that story," Geraint said.
Leon tried not to show his discomfort with the joke, recalling with a kind of shame and fear what Uther had said to him that morning. He couldn't imagine it was true, that his mother would be disappointed in him for marrying Krysia, even if she were just a servant. His father, on the other hand…. Perhaps it would have been acceptable had his brother survived, but with Leon the last of the line, the expectations would have been much higher.
He felt suddenly sick as he realized what this meant, what the king had perhaps been pointing out. Even if he never had any intention of marrying Krysia, he certainly couldn't imagine marrying anyone else, even to continue the family line. How could he marry someone for children knowing that he loved someone else so fully?
"Relax," Geraint said, cupping his hand to Leon's shoulder. "She'll be back in a few days, and you'll be graced with her radiant and totally oblivious presence once more."
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Gwaine laid on the grass with Krysia resting her back against his torso, looking down at him as she strung a crown of flowers, perhaps without realizing that her hands were busy. In the afternoon light, she looked almost regal. Gorgeous. Perfect.
"You look nice like this," he said.
He could have hit himself, but she just laughed.
"Why, thank you," she said. "What a poet you are."
"It sounded better in my head," he said.
"I'm quite sure it did."
He sat up, and she turned toward him, twisting her whole torso so that their faces were almost touching. He leaned closer, pressing his forehead to hers.
"Radiant," he whispered.
The laughter fell off her lips, and for a moment he thought it was that he had found the right word. He leaned in to kiss her, but he paused when he heard an unusual, unfamiliar sound. She looked up, and he looked at where she was looking.
Wings. He'd heard massive wings overhead and moving quickly. Krysia tracked the creature in the sky, frowning.
"Was that a dragon?" he said.
Krysia was already standing, hurrying back to the village. She took off at such a pace, Gwaine had to sprint to catch up to her.
"Where are you going?" he said.
"It's heading south," she said, as if that explained everything.
She'd looked like an angel not minutes ago, and now she had all the seriousness of a hardened soldier. In some ways, it was even more attractive.
"Krysia, wait," he said, but she wasn't listening to him. She gathered her things, she waved of Tara, who was going to give her a refund for the night she did not spend in the room. She went to the stables.
"Krysia, please," he said, alarmed now. "Where are you going?"
"I'm sorry," she said, mounting Ember.
"Stay," he said, taking her hand on the rein. "Please, stay. We'll have lunch by the fire. I'll try to think of better compliments by your window. You've already paid for the room. Just—"
"I'm sorry," she said. "I really am, Gwaine, but I have to go."
She seemed genuinely distressed. He tried to think of how to convince her not to go chasing off after a dragon. He hadn't even demanded a kiss goodbye, and she was already riding away.
"You'd better be back in a week or I'm coming after you!" he cried, blinking back frustrated stinging at the corners of his vision.
He couldn't be sure, but when she turned to yell back at him, he thought he heard her say, "I love you too."
He thought so, but perhaps it was only the wind.
A/N:
To Like-a-Slasher-Film:
I love seeing your theories! Right or wrong, they're always interesting.
Those of you interested in reading the earlier parts of the story, Part 1, Camelot: Forged from Ashes, is already several chapters posted, and part two Camelot: Restoration, is in early draft stages. All parts can be read alone, but reading all will enhance the experience, and may give you sneak peaks into events to come.
Excited to see you all for more here (and there!). Have a great day on this, my 30th birthday.
-C