Leon stood before his looking glass and examined the retreating red splotches on his face. He wished Gaius's remedies were a bit quicker, but at least the itching had stopped. He told a knocker at the door to enter and pulled on his shirt. Geraint came in, smirking as he had been for days without ceasing.

"Tell me something," Geraint said, "did Krysia avoid you while the boils were oozing? Only, I know how squeamish she can be."

Sometimes, Leon thought, his friend could positively be a rodent.

"Krysia is professional," Leon said.

In truth, he'd been trying not to think too much on when she had been in his presence to avoid seeing her reaction. No doubt she would be attempting not to show her disgust and pity, and he didn't think he could bear that.

"It's a lovely day," Geraint said, "and I know for a fact that she's gone out on a ride to collect some herbs for Gaius."

"Has she," Leon said, carefully schooling his face.

Geraint made an annoyed sound, and Leon checked the looking glass to see a very serious expression on his friend's face.

"Will you just ride out and spend an afternoon with the woman?" Geraint said. "Keep her company, whatever. If it goes well, tell her, for god's sake. At least give yourself a chance. You know as well as I do that you could have lost her during that siege."

Leon had not forgotten. He couldn't forget it, sometimes waking in the middle of the night with the memory of her throat covered in bruises. They had healed well, and quickly, but the memory wouldn't subside. It was difficult to think of Krysia as fragile, but in that moment, that slice of time, he had been certain she was gone.

"I haven't the time," Leon said.

"Ah, I've already swapped your shifts," Geraint said. "You can thank me by naming a child after me."

"You haven't."

"Firstborn, preferably."

Before Leon could throw something at his friend, as he had nothing suitable at hand, Geraint was already out the door, closing it carefully behind him when Leon settled on a nearby shoe. He settled on the bed and took a deep breath. It couldn't hurt, surely, to just…spend a little bit of time with her. Since he had the time to spare, apparently.

/-/

It took some time to find Krysia, and the sun was high when he came across her near a stream, examining petals. Leon watched her, recalling perfectly the first time he was sure he was in love with her, seeing her and Morgana splashing each other by a stream when she was perhaps sixteen. The sun hit her hair just perfectly, and she looked so happy, so radiant, so pleasant, and if Leon could have frozen that moment forever so that she would be happy forever, he would have forgone all his tomorrows. He was sure then that was what love was, and he hadn't found anything that suggested otherwise.

"My lady," he said.

She startled, then relaxed when she saw him. He was glad that she'd stopped arguing when he addressed her as the lady she was. It eased his conscience to treat her as she ought to be treated, even if it was only in secret.

"What are you doing out here?" she said.

"I'm…just out for a ride," he said. In essence, it wasn't a lie. "How long have you been working?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," she said, searching the clearing of trees for the location of the sun. "Several hours at least."

"Long enough to justify a rest, then," he said.

She was going to argue, he knew, so he ignored her and began to lay the meager picnic he'd managed to prepare on short notice. It was bread and cheese, mainly, and a bottle of almost certainly weak wine, but it was a picnic, like when they were children, and he was hoping nostalgia counted for something.

As he'd expected, when he'd nearly finished laying out the blanket he'd brought, she lost her heart to argue, and she instead focused on straightening out the blanket. She never could resist fixing Leon's mistakes, which he found he didn't mind. He sat on the blanket and held his hand up to her, and after a brief, wry hesitation, she took it and settled on the blanket beside him, looking out at the stream and the clearing.

"It's a lovely warm day," he said.

"Yes, the conditions were perfect for a few herbs Gaius has been deficient on for some time," she said. "And before you worry, yes, I've gathered plenty of those. There were a few less urgent things I want to get before heading back, but the necessities are in stock."

Leon relaxed a little and tried to focus on opening the bottle of wine rather than the still splotchy appearance of his face. Yes, she knew it was the product of the goblin recently infesting Camelot and not some illness, but it couldn't be in any way appealing.

"How come the repairs to the fortifications?" she said, turning a little to watch him remove the cork and pour the wine.

"They are coming along well," he said. "The matter will be merely cosmetic by week's end, should all remain on schedule."

"And you foresee no hindrances to the schedule?" she said.

She took the glass he handed her, and before she could take a sip, he raised his. She paused, and held hers a bit higher, watching him.

"To our place," he said, nodding to the stream where they'd spent so much time as children, "and to many long hours spent in leisure, and to many more."

"Our place," Krysia repeated, smiling a wry smile that he associated more with Geraint than with her. They each took a drink of wine, and she said, "It wasn't just us."

"Nor may it just be us in future," he said, shifting a bit closer and hoping she didn't find it too forward. "But today, I'm…I'm glad it's just us."

She raised her eyebrows and examined the food he'd brought.

"Well, with Arthur working so hard all the time and Morgana spending much of her time in her room or at Uther's side these days, and Gwen constantly at Morgana's side and Elyan not having been heard from in years and Bors—"

She stopped short and her body froze before she looked up at him slowly.

"It's alright," he said gently. "I've come to terms with his death long ago." He cleared his throat, forced a smile, and offered her a bit of cheese. She accepted. "Bors would have a lot to say to me, no doubt, although precisely what he'd say, I'm never quite sure."

"What is the dilemma?" she said.

Leon watched her eat the cheese before cutting more for her and taking a little for himself.

"I cannot decide whether he would tell me to be brave and speak my mind or keep quiet and know my place."

She laughed and said, "The king values your counsel, Leon. Whatever the matter is, I've no doubt he would listen. And you know perfectly well that one of the things Uther loved about Bors was how bold he was. It doesn't serve you, holding your tongue, even in the halls of power. Choosing your words with care, certainly, but even Gaius speaks his mind."

Leon hummed, wishing he could make it plainer without outright telling her, just so he could get some sense of her feelings. Even a hint would be ideal. And there wasn't nearly enough wine in this bottle he'd brought to get him bold enough, bold as he had been at the feast when he'd nearly professed his heart, laid it bare for her to trample.

"Perhaps," he whispered. "The king certainly values you."

For the first time, Krysia seemed uncomfortable, and she took a gulp of wine like he'd never seen her do, and she set the glass aside, empty.

"Krysia," he said, reaching out for her hand, "are you…have you had a chance to talk with him about…?"

"I'm really alright," she said. She wasn't looking at him, but focusing on the stream, almost ignoring that he'd taken her hand in his. "He wasn't himself."

"That explains what happened," Leon said. "It doesn't excuse it. You're allowed to not be alright, Krysia. You're human."

She laughed, a strange, bitter laugh he'd never heard from her before. He squeezed her hand lightly, wondering if she was about to tell him now, if she was about to confess. She seemed to very much want to say something, but he was afraid what it would mean for her, to say out loud that she had magic.

"It's been lovely," she finally said, "having a rest for a moment like this."

"Someday," Leon said, "you'll be able to rest whenever you wish."

"Doubtful."

"No," Leon said, leaning forward, and she finally did turn to look at him, holding his gaze. "Krysia, you will have all you deserve, I'm certain of it."

"And what do I deserve?" she whispered.

She seemed small, almost afraid, and he wanted her to feel free, relaxed, comfortable. He wanted her to understand that here could be a way to give her even some small sliver of what was her birthright, and safely.

"You deserve…happiness," he said, leaning closer, so close, it would take a single small motion to kiss her. "You deserve comfort, safety, and leisure. You deserve silk dresses and a library full of books of your choosing. You deserve your own horse, and someone there with you each morning and each night, someone who feels nothing in the world as much as he feels privileged to be in your presence. You deserve to speak your mind without rebuke, and to enter every room with your head high and bowing to no one. You deserve for your name to be said with reverence, whether or not you're around."

Her forced laugh was nervous, and he realized he'd said too much, gone too far.

"I'm not a princess, Leon," she said.

He wanted to kiss her, or at least kiss her hand, but he was frozen. He wanted to tell her that she was always a princess to him, but the words were stuck in his chest. He wanted to tell her he loved her, or even some small part of that. Nothing would come out, nothing would move. Instead he just stared into her eyes, admiring the soft brown of the iris, gentle and powerful.

There had to be an easier way to do this.

"Gods, is it really so late?" she said, frowning up at the sun, which was already sitting on the tops of the trees, ready to duck behind them. "I'll have to hurry if I'm going to gather everything I wanted before heading back."

"Can I help?" he said.

He stood and helped her to her feet, watching her adjust her skirts and recalling the flash of a dream where he had kissed a hungry line up her leg. He tried to shake off that memory, as tantalizing as it had been. Whatever moment he'd had, it was clearly gone now.

"Surely you have better things to do," she said, laughing.

"Is there anything better to be done than this?" he said.

She frowned at him like she didn't understand the question, then shrugged and showed him what to look for. He spent the rest of the afternoon helping her hunt down herbs, learning and being as close to her as he could manage.

/-/

Leon was several ales in when Geraint sat beside him at the tavern that night, knocking his shoulder.

"Well, don't leave me in suspense," Geraint said. "What did she say?"

"She didn't," Leon whispered.

"Didn't what?"

"She said nothing, because I said nothing," Leon said.

Geraint groaned and leaned back dramatically in his chair.

"But I saw you both riding back in from the forest," Geraint said. "I know you went in after her. What do you mean you said nothing? You spent a lovely afternoon with her and just…what, didn't tell her that you're madly in love?"

"What good would it do?" Leon said into his ale.

Geraint startled Leon, slamming his hand down on the table with unusual force, nearly turning it over.

"Leon, you're acting like she's a queen. It's not an act of treason to be in love with a serving girl. God knows, she's allowed to be in love, too. She might even be in love with you if you gave her half a chance. Consider this." He held his hand up, raising a single finger. "Had you confessed your love for her and she married you—no, don't argue, just assume I'm right—and she married you by the time the siege occurred, where would she have been?"

Leon frowned at his ale, wondering whether he ought to get another ale.

"Leon."

"In my quarters."

"In your quarters, yes. And it wouldn't have been her responsibility to watch over the king, would it."

"No," Leon whispered, realizing where his friend was going. He could feel a prickling at the corners of his eyes.

"She'd have been in your quarters when the king woke, not by his side, so she wouldn't have been responsible for keeping him in bed, and he wouldn't have nearly killed her getting out to the battle."

Leon closed his eyes and tried to focus on the image of Krysia kneeling and examining a petal, but his mind went to the memory from the dream of kissing her leg, then to the ribbon around her neck, then to the image of her half-dead on the floor of the king's chambers. His eyes ached.

"She'd have been safe, and you could have happily gone back to her when it was all over and—oh, gods, man, don't cry."

"I can't," Leon said.

"You're already crying."

"I can't."

"Can't…tell her? I've noticed. Look, let's get you back to your bed, alright? Clearly this isn't the time to have this conversation. Just…think on it? When you're sober."

Leon choked out agreement, and he allowed his friend to steer him out of the tavern and back to the castle, still trying to push aside the torrent of images, memories, and nightmares all combining in his mind.

/-/

Krysia finished hanging up the herbs to dry and sat down to her dinner that evening. The bread on her plate reminded her of the rushed-together picnic Leon had served in the forest, and she almost smiled.

"Sir Leon's boils are healing nicely," she said to Gaius, who was reviewing some notes he'd made earlier in the day.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, he's quite anxious about them, but unfortunately they won't heal faster." He looked up and said, "I didn't see him today. Has the sore healed over?"

"It appears that way," she said, trying to recall how the skin had looked when he'd been at his closest. The patches of skin were still quite angry, but there hadn't appeared to be any seeping, and she thought perhaps all the boils had largely been replaced with new skin.

She watched Gaius work for a while before she said slowly, "I could put something in the next ointment you give him that would—"

"Absolutely not," Gaius said sternly. "He knows the timeline I've given for his recovery, and anything faster would be suspicious. No matter how much you trust Sir Leon, he's still quite close to the king, and you cannot afford suspicion at this present moment."

"Why, has he said something?"

She waited in the stiff silence long enough for Gaius to hesitate, which told her there was certainly something to be worried of.

"Just be careful," Gaius said. "You gathered a large number of herbs for such a short time in the forest. You didn't use magic, did you?"

"Relax, I'm not Merlin," she said with a snort. "No, Leon was out for a ride and he insisted on helping me after he waylaid me for a while—"

"Waylaid you?" Gaius said, frowning.

Krysia had a feeling he was going to chastise her, but she shrugged and said, "We had a short meal, and we sat in a clearing for a while. It was nice, a bit like when we were children—"

"Krysia, you are not children anymore," Gaius said sternly. "Do you recall what I told you before?"

"I haven't forgotten," Krysia whispered.

"Then don't tease him."

Krysia chewed on her lower lip, still trying to figure out what that meant, and where the line was, and if she'd crossed it, how to avoid it in future. She wasn't sure. She hadn't done anything improper, surely. How was it her fault if she did nothing improper and he had the wrong idea regardless? Were they not both responsible for their own feelings and actions?

"He's just worried about me," she said finally.

Gaius's face softened, and he took her hand in both of his, squeezing gently.

"That is only natural," Gaius said. "To his mind, you very nearly died. But this is the danger I've warned you about for years about being friends with those you serve. However close you are, however much you care about each other, there are still lines to cross, there is still a power dynamic to consider. He will always be the one holding power for all the world to see, and you had better hope it stays that way."

"And if it doesn't?" she whispered.

Gaius's face was very still as he whispered back, "Then you will be above him, or you will be dead. Leon is a good man, and that is why I believe he would not wish the truth to come forward if he knew of it. The only eligible bachelor worthy of you for many miles would be Arthur—"

"That's disgusting," Krysia said, pushing back her dinner plate. "Good night."

A/N:

Next chapter: Gwaine!

I'm so excited, I can barely stand it, and I know y'all are too.

Here's a question: how do you think Morgana & Morgause are going to approach the question of Krysia's power and potential?

-C