Leon led the patrol as quickly as he could, his throat raw for want of rest and heavy breathing. He knew he was pushing the men and the horses hard, too hard, but if he did not, then what little chance they had to prepare for the coming onslaught would be gone forever.

He hoped, rather than expected, that Gaius would have found some cure for the king by now. Leon believed that he could follow Arthur into any battle and they would emerge victorious, but he could not ignore how the king's health impacted his son.

He could only hope.

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"Are you able to sit up, sire?" Krysia said.

Uther stared up at her, regretting that he'd said he would wait until he knew what to do. He was sure, he was so sure, looking at her from this angle. When he first woke, he'd been transported to being a boy, waking in Carneath, half-delirious from his all-night ride in the cold.

"Sire?" she said.

Uther raised a hand to her, and she interpreted his gesture as asking for help sitting up, and she used her strength to help him prop up on his pillows. Her hands had surprising strength. Or perhaps not so surprising, given how she'd lived her life under his care.

He wanted to tell her about Zosia, he wanted to say out loud what an uncanny resemblance she sometimes held….

But Gaius was right. Gaius was nearly always right. He tried to ask her for help getting out of bed, but a mere groan escaped his lips as she was turning away to stoke the fire. She paused, turning to wait to see if he would get out a word. When he could not, she smiled patiently.

"We're going to get you comfortable and serve you breakfast, sire," she said, "but then I'm afraid you need more rest."

Uther wanted to insist, but he watched her stoke the fire from his bed. She worked with her fluid motions, like a dance. He relaxed into the pillows, and she brought a tray to him for eating. It was porridge only, and he was almost relieved that she was spooning the food to his mouth like he was a true, invalid, because he would have been more embarrassed if he'd tried to raise his tired arm and not succeeded.

After several mouthfuls, he realized that the porridge tasted unusual. He wanted to ask, but his eyelids were going heavy.

"I knew you would be uncooperative when it came time to dose you," she said, still feeding him, "but I knew you would accept food well enough. By the time you've eaten enough porridge to sustain you for now, you'll have a healthy dose that should keep you asleep until the midday meal. You can punish me later, sire."

He wanted to laugh, and he wanted to clap her in irons, but he was too exhausted to do anything. He consumed several more mouthfuls of food before sleep overtook his consciousness.

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Leon was exhausted when he stood before Arthur and the council, feeling the weakness in his legs, but he announced that they had seen the approaching army, and the stillness of all in the room affirmed that he'd made the right choice in pressing so hard.

"I estimate they will reach the city within two days," Leon said.

Krysia shifted from her place in the chamber, but she didn't look at him.

"Under whose banner do they march?" Arthur said.

"Cenred's sire," Leon said. "We knew he was amassing an army—"

"How many in this army, Sir Leon?" Krysia said.

Several men around the table startled at a servant asking, but Arthur showed no surprise at her speaking, so Leon addressed the question.

"Twenty thousand, maybe more," he said.

Gaius leaned forward and said, "I fear the king's illness has spread beyond our borders. Cenred sees the opportunity."

"Then we must find a way to appease him."

"Surely Cenred is not a man to be appeased," Krysia said, standing taller.

There was a light murmur from some of the barons at Krysia refuting a knight, and Leon was nervous at what she was suggesting, but he stared at her, thinking she looked, if nothing else, regal.

"Sire," Gaius said, "we are outnumbered two to one."

Arthur shook his head and said, "What concessions will Cenred insist on? What territories will he demand?"

"We do not have to give him anything, but it could buy valuable time."

Krysia shook her head and said, "No, the king would never approve. The weakness of seeing an enemy at the door and holding out a hand for a treaty without even trying to fight back? Surely we must make ready for a siege."

This time, the whole room stared at her, even Arthur looking to her. She realized suddenly that she'd overstepped, and began to apologize, but Arthur held up a hand.

"No, you're quite right," he said. "I agree with you."

"Are you sure this is wise?" Leon pressed.

"Krysia is quite correct," Arthur said, cutting down the dubious expressions of most of those gathered. "The castle is our strongest weapon. No army has ever taken Camelot."

"What about the people in the outlying villages?"

Krysia frowned, looking particularly concerned at this comment, but she said softly, "We could shield them in the city.

Leon shook his head and said, "And what of their houses, their livelihoods? Cenred will destroy everything in his path."

"But they will have their lives," Arthur said, standing. "Go. Ready the army."

Leon wanted to argue, but he knew when he had orders. He wasn't sure what was more unsettling, the things that Krysia and Arthur had decided must be done or the ease with which Krysia had unconsciously stepped into a governing role.

/-/

Krysia watched from the end of the corridor where the King rested as peasants flowed into the city. She wasn't sure from how far away they were coming, but she was watching whenever she had a spare moment to see if Willowdale was represented, to see if this was the unexpected event that brought Gwaine to Camelot. She wasn't sure what she'd say to him if she did see him here.

"I heard you commanded our siege," the teasing voice of Geraint said from down the corridor. Krysia steeled herself and turned to smile at her friend. "Shall I wait for your signal to loose my bow, my lady?"

"Don't call me that, please," she said. She leaned against the stone of the window ledge, and Geraint leaned beside her, knocking her upper arm lightly with his shoulder like he hadn't done in many years.

"Leon's worried about you," he said.

She closed her eyes and looked into the redness of the light on her eyelids. She took a steady breath to avoid showing any frustration.

"He's always worried about me."

"Yeah," Geraint said, with remarkable and uncharacteristic softness. "It's okay to let him, you know."

She frowned, opening her eyes and looking up at Geraint.

"You speak as if I have any control in the matter," she said.

"Do I?" he said, smirking. "Perhaps that is because you have all the control in the matter."

She was going to ask what he was talking about, but he teasingly kissed her hand, and she swatted at him. He ducked out of the way of her reach, laughed, and said, "I would follow you into battle, my lady."

"Stop calling me that," she said, trying not to sound as panicked as she felt, and trying to relax when he winked at her.

/-/

Leon and Arthur stood in the infirmary, discussing the plans for the flow of medical supplies, and he could no longer stay silent.

"You allowed Krysia a great deal of latitude today," Leon whispered.

"She spoke great sense," Arthur said. "She spoke…as I believe my father would have spoken."

"But not as your father would have allowed her to speak."

Arthur hummed, pausing as he caught sight of someone, nodding to them. Leon turned, but all he saw was Gwen passing.

"My father has often given Krysia great lenience," Arthur said. "He is fond of her in a way he is with no other servant. She has proved her worth many times over, and her loyalty."

"Of course, sire, there is no question of that."

They continued along the corridor to the next station to consider.

"But you don't agree with something," Arthur said.

Leon hesitated, then said, "I just think it is unfair to allow her too much freedom, sire. If she does not know where the lines are, she may not realized she's crossed one until it is too late."

/-/

Krysia checked that Uther had finished the dose that she'd instructed Clay to give him, and he did seem to be fast asleep. She sighed and checked that her dagger was reasonably sharp before sitting beside the king, confident that if Gwaine was here somewhere, they would find each other.

"I won't be able to stay by your side the whole time," she whispered to Uther, "and I'm not sure that I want to, either. But when I can, I'll be here, if only so that you aren't alone if we all die.

/-/

Leon was reviewing the reports from his men when Arthur approached him in the Courtyard gallery.

"Has everyone from the outlying villages been given shelter?" Arthur said.

"As best as we can, sire. They amount to almost nine thousand so far, but they're still coming."

"How long will our provisions last?"

"Depends, sire," Leon said, "on losses sustained."

"And Cenred?"

Leon hesitated, then said, "Our scouts report he'll be upon us in a matter of hours."

/-/

When they were ready to go out to meet Cenred's troops, Leon stood on the line, watching Arthur pass them all. He realized that they were beginning a siege that would very likely lead to the end of their lives, maybe the end of Camelot as they knew it, and he'd still never told Krysia, not even hinted to her how he felt.

Arthur raised his sword and cried out, "For the love of Camelot!"

Leon and the other knights echoed, "For the love of Camelot!"

They followed Arthur, continuing their preparations, and he was beginning to think perhaps Geraint had been right all along.

/-/

The siege was heavy, as expected. Cenred's troops were sending flaming ammunitions by trebuchet into the city. Leon couldn't afford to think of the wounded, dealing with the battle in the courtyard, at the drawbridge.

"Hold the line!" he called to his men, and then he saw, to his surprise, the king running into battle with them wearing his armor and brandishing his sword.

Hadn't Krysia been watching him? Had the king overpowered her? Was she alright?

"You need to go back, sire," Leon said, but the king did not listen. He was pushing forward, perhaps not hearing, perhaps not listening, and Leon lost track of him too soon to be of any help.

/-/

Leon pulled people forward slightly, still searching for the king, but he could not find sight of him, nor could he guess where he might have gone.

When Brennis was hurrying by, Leon called out to him.

"Have you seen the king?" Leon cried.

"No, what do you mean, seen the king?"

"He was out here," Leon said. "You've had no news from the castle?"

Brennis had not, and Leon felt increasingly concerned that something had happened to Krysia, but he couldn't afford to check on her, or even to send a man to do it for him. He had to hope that she was all right.

/-/

Uther stood at the battlements finally, fighting off some of the soldiers using ladders to climb up. He found Arthur, and he stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

"Father!"

Uther did not have the strength to withstand when Arthur pulled him back from the front line.

"What are you doing?" Uther said, frustrated.

"You are not well," Arthur said.

"This is my kingdom!"

He would not die in a bed like his father had done, while the castle was under siege. He would not have that indignity.

Before he could pull himself out of his son's grip, he felt an arrow more from the impact with his leg and the heat around it than the arrow itself. He collapsed into Arthur's arms, and he had a brief, wild moment trying to recall what he'd done to Krysia before he lost consciousness.

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Leon managed to use the excuse to organize the retreat from the lower town to go up to Uther's chambers, where he found Krysia unconscious on the stone floor. He lifted her, laying her on the bed and checking her for obvious wounds or injuries. She stirred at his touch, and he noticed the bruising on her neck.

"Leon?" she said, her voice raspy and tight.

"Rest," he said, putting one of the pillows behind her head. "Rest, my lady."

"I couldn't stab the king," she said, laying back on the pillow, clearly exhausted.

"I know."

"He wouldn't—"

"Rest," he said, stroking her hair. When she fell asleep and relaxed, he placed a kiss on her brow and whispered, "Rest, my lady."

/-/

Uther came to with his son helping him across the courtyard, and he realized that they were retreating.

"You must get back," Uther said, "we are losing the lower town."

"It's already lost, father."

The pain of those words was worse than the arrow, and Uther felt for a moment that he was back on that awful day, seeing his brother's blood run down the street as a servant half-carried him away.

"And the citadel?" Uther said.

"Safe for now."

"It must stay this way."

Arthur paused them, setting Uther down and reaching for the arrow.

"You have to trust me, father," Arthur said. "I know what I'm doing."

Uther could not hold in the groan as his son pulled out the arrow. Arthur's servant held out his hand to help Uther, and Uther reluctantly took it.

"You must rest," Arthur said. "When you're well again, you will still have a kingdom, I promise you that."

But Arthur didn't understand, Uther thought as the servant ushered him to the infirmary. They had not seen this all before, the near-end to the line of Pendragon. He could not take it lying in a bed. Not like his father.

"Krysia," he said, suddenly recalling what he'd done. "She is injured."

He tried to drag the servant toward the stairs, but his strength was mostly gone.

"She'll be alright," the servant said, firmly directing Uther to the infirmary. "Krysia is stronger than I reckon any of us give her credit for."

Uther hoped that were true.

"Where's Gaius?" Arthur's servant asked Morgana's servant.

"I don't know," she answered, leading Uther toward a nearby bed to rest on.

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Krysia woke suddenly, alone on Uther's bed. Her throat was sore, her neck ached, but she knew something terrible had happened. She sat still for a moment, trying to sense where it was coming from, this powerful and ancient magic. It was cold, piercing, and she sensed that it must be from the crypt. She stood, steadying herself for a moment before she made her way down to the corridor, down to the stairs, and off to the crypt.

/-/

Uther heard the sound of something hitting the castle walls and he sat up, urgent not to lose his throne lying down.

"I have to get out there," he said.

"No, sire," Gaius said, pressing him down. "You are still weak from the medicine I gave you. I told you that—"

"I cannot watch my kingdom fall and do nothing."

Gaius patted his shoulder and said, "Arthur will defend it."

Just as Ambrose should have defended it, Uther thought bitterly. Ambrose was not ready. How could he trust that Arthur was?

/-/

Krysia walked with increasing confidence, and she saw a skeleton approach her, but rather than raise its sword, she stared it down, and it passed her, which confirmed her suspicion. Whatever weapon Morgana was wielding, it was of the High Priestesses, and recognized Krysia as such She hurried, knowing that no one else in the castle would have such protection.

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Leon had pushed his troops back out to the drawbridge when he returned to the front, and he felt that they were holding well, with admirable chances of turning the tide. Then he heard a strange sound behind him, and he turned to see an army of skeletons approaching from inside the castle walls.

"On me!" he cried, calling attention to the new threat. He parried with the lead skeleton, and he prayed that Krysia stayed safe locked away in the king's chambers.

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Krysia slipped into the crypt and heard Merlin beseeching Morgana.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he was telling her. "We can find another way."

Morgana coldly answered, "There is no other way."

Krysia leaned around the corner to see Merlin walking behind a pillar. He tried to dash across to reach a fine rowan staff in the center of the crypt, the source of the coldness Krysia was feeling, but Morgana caught him with her sword, and he gasped. Krysia hesitated.

"What are you going to do?" he said, tired. "Kill me?"

"You don't think I can?" Morgana said.

"If you're going to do it, make it quick."

Morgan swung, but Merlin ducked and took up his own sword. Krysia prayed he'd learned enough with Arthur that he could hold his own while she snuck behind a nearby tomb and quietly cast a spell. She tried to be precise, and when Morgana disarmed Merlin, Krysia collapsed the roof of the crypt over Morgana.

Merlin checked that Morgana was unconscious while Krysia retrieved Merlin's sword and did another spell, destroying the rowan staff.

The coldness ceased, and the staff felt lifeless in her hands.

/-/

That evening, Krysia made her way back to Uther's chambers, and her hands were shaking as she stood outside his door. She was exhausted, between the late night she'd already had, the struggle with Uther, and the magic she'd had done expel in order to stop Morgana, having to stand there in the throne room while Uther commended Morgana for singlehandedly stopping the sorcerer had been a drain beyond what Krysia could have anticipated.

"Krysia?"

She startled, turning to see Geraint look at her with concern. She forced a smile, reminding herself that she'd covered the bruises. The ribbon tied around her neck was an inelegant solution, but it would do until she could justify healing them.

"Good evening, Sir Geraint," she said. "How go the repairs to fortifications?"

He ignored her question and said, "You need to rest, Krysia. Leon told me how he found you. Someone else can do this, surely. You can't keep taking every task on your own shoulders. I'm sure the king would understand if another servant started his fire for the evening and closed his curtains."

She struggled to hold her smile as she answered, "He asked for me specifically."

Geraint hesitated, then looked around, making sure no one could overhear, before he leaned close.

"Just go, Krysia. Go back to Gaius's chambers. I can start a fire as well as you. I'll make your excuses. You looked unwell so I sent you away to rest and would brook no refusal."

"Geraint—"

"Krysia, please," he whispered. "This is unreasonable. He could have killed you."

She wanted to laugh, knowing that he couldn't have. That the skeleton did not try to harm her had proved her point, she was a high priestess now, with all the good and ill that entailed. He could hurt her, he could damage her, but he could not kill her without aid of magic.

"It's alright," she said. "Really, it's fine. Gaius says his state of mind is much recovered. But thank you."

He looked like he would make another plea, so she pushed through her nerves and hurried into Uther's chambers before Geraint could insist. She forced a smile when Uther turned from his spot by the window, looking out over the damaged city below.

"Krysia," he said, and she began to work on the fireplace. "Krysia, wait."

She stood still as he approached her. He paused a little further than an arm's length, staring at her neck.

"I apologize," he said, "for any…for…"

He seemed uncertain how to word his apology, and Krysia didn't particularly want to hear the apology, so she forced a little laugh.

"It's fine," she said.

"It isn't," he said. He took another step forward and reached out, gently tugging the ribbon and pulling it away from her throat.

She had worn her hair down to distract from the ribbon, and she realized now that this may have been a mistake, with the way he was frowning at her. He raised a hand like he was going to touch the bruises, and Krysia took a step back before she could stop herself.

"It is inexcusable," he said, keeping a still face, staring at her neck.

"On the contrary, sire," she said softly. "It is…commendable. As a king, I can think of no more important trait than putting the kingdom before all else."

He met her gaze and looked at her as though he'd never quite seen her before. They stood staring at each other for a long moment, and she expected that he would say something profound or dangerous or worrying, but instead he said something that she hadn't expected at all.

"You are lovely with your hair down."

There was a strange sensation down her spine as she recalled the amulet she had altered from the troll, how easily she had been able to pull him away from the troll's power by simply re-molding the charm to her own will. That was the look he was giving her, the one he'd given her when she realized how simple it would be to leave him enchanted, to change the whole kingdom by wrapping him around her finger.

"It is impractical, sire," she said, "and I should start your fire, as I've no doubt you will tire quickly tonight."

He did not argue, and instead watched her work as he always did. She wished she'd listened to Geraint after all.

A/N:

Two chapters away, y'all, we're almost there.

I actually had a lot of fun with this two part, and I wasn't sure I would do. The great news is that after Tuesday, I'm off for the American holiday break of Thanksgiving, so you'll be getting more regular updates for a little while which means expect Gwaine by Thursday.

-C