Krysia sat with Arthur, Uther, and Morgana for the midday meal, and Merlin was serving them. Krysia had noticed that Uther was struggling to find a servant to fill her place. Clay served him personally. Various servants of the household would serve meals. A small group of senior servants would plan major events. But there didn't seem to be anyone in charge of everyone, except for Uther.
"Remind me, how many times have you won this tournament, Uther?" Morgana said in her needling voice.
She referred to the tournament held every ten years, a tournament for all comers with a prize in gold. Krysia could somewhat recall the last one. She had been training with Lady Evaine at the time, who had refused to go to watch it, so her sons had taken Krysia with them to watch. It wasn't many years later that Bors died in the melee, and Krysia understood why Evaine hadn't cared for such tournaments.
"Three," Uther said.
"That's a lot to live up to, Arthur," Morgana said, teasing.
Krysia shook her head and said, "Arthur is his own man starting his own tournament. There's nothing to live up to. Most in the crowd won't recall the number, just the rush of the tournament."
Morgana forced a smile, then turned to Uther and said, "I remember your last victory. You were a master in the arena. It's such a shame we won't see you compete again."
Krysia's eyebrows twitched, realizing where Morgana was taking this.
"Who says you won't?" Uther said.
"I thought you said you were too old to take the field," Morgana teased.
Krysia cleared her throat and said, "I would think that's hardly the concern."
"Age does not stop me," Uther said. "I'd still prove a match for any man."
"Well, we won't be finding out," Arthur said, setting down his glass and frowning.
"Why ever not?" Uther said.
Krysia laughed, covering Arthur's firmness with some of the feminine softness Morgana was weaponizing.
"It would be senseless for you to be injured in such a tournament," she said.
Uther laughed, and Krysia felt he brightened at her concern. She hated toying with the emotions Morgana had stirred, but as with the matter of the troll, if this was what she had to occasionally do to set things right, then it was safer than practicing magic.
"Do you think you could still win the crown?" Morgana pressed, grinning.
Arthur grew irritated and said, "The Kingdom needs him to rule, not to fight."
"You think I can't do both?" Uther said, a bit perturbed.
Krysia sat a bit straighter and said, "It's not a question of what you can do, sire, but rather what might be sensible. After all, Morgana and I would benefit from your company in the stands."
Uther paused, looking thoughtful and a bit confused, and Arthur stood.
"If you'll excuse me, I need to prepare for the tournament," he said. "Merlin?"
Arthur and Merlin swept out of the room, and Morgana waited for them to be gone before she started to press her nails in again.
"It is such a shame," she said. "Would've been good for the people to see you compete one last time. But still, Arthur is probably right. You can't do everything."
Krysia thought Uther looked too thoughtful as he took a drink of his wine, but she knew if she kept pressing to hard, he might get the wrong idea entirely about her again, and she didn't know where the line was in this delicate dance. Best to hope for the best at this point.
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Between fights and waiting for fights, Jarl, Gwaine's captor, allowed Gwaine to recover on a cot for one night with better food before throwing him back in the cell. On the night of his fifth fight in a row, Gwaine was laying in the cot, staring at the ceiling and digesting his meager meal. In the morning, one of the men would drag him back to the cell, but he also didn't dare sleep in a place like this, not if he could help it.
Jarl, Gwaine had learned, was a slaver. Where he gathered the people he trafficked from and where he sold them to was still a mystery Gwaine hadn't solved, not that he'd had much energy for puzzling it out. He should have been totally focused on surviving and escaping, but his mind did keep returning to the question of the other men in the cell, the people being trafficked, and if there was anything Gwaine could do.
But there was nothing he could do tonight, so he closed his eyes and imagined Krysia's sweet hair and warm arms for his last minutes awake.
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Krysia arrived at the tournament in the morning and took her seat in the royal stand, waiting for Uther and Morgana to arrive. When Morgana showed up alone at the appointed time, Krysia asked her where the king was, but Morgana just smiled and addressed the crowd.
"It's my pleasure to welcome you all to Camelot. This is a contest like no other. It is open to all comers."
Uther came out, taking his place in the field of competitors.
"Including our reigning champion, the king," Morgana said with a wide smile. "There are no rules, no weapons are banned. The last man standing takes the prize. Let the tournament begin."
The first day was never the most nerve-wracking event, but even with how easily Uther and Arthur won their matches, Krysia couldn't sit still for her nerves. And then a boy, clearly no warrior, won his match with what Krysia was certain was magic, and her nerves became more than she'd felt them in some time.
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Krysia sat as still as she could while Enid tugged her hair, plaiting it in an intricate pattern for the second day of the tournament.
"I can't believe I'm wearing this," she said.
"You said you wanted to show solidarity for the king, my lady," Enid said. "Wearing his colors is a fine gesture, and it is one of your more comfortable gowns, is it not?"
It was, but Krysia didn't want to admit that.
"That hurts," Krysia said when Enid tugged lightly again.
"No it doesn't, you're just in a sour mood," Enid said with a smile playing at her lips. "The king has won this tournament three times, my lady I'm sure he'll be fine."
Krysia raised an eyebrow as Enid finished off her hair and took a step back to check it from different angles.
"And if he isn't fine?" Krysia said.
"Then Gaius will patch him back up."
Krysia wanted to point out that even Gaius couldn't cure death, but the reminder that she could kept pressing on her chest. She'd done a great deal already to keep Uther alive, but would she do as much to bring him back from death? Should she?
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After the reports from guards about the armory corridor and what the guards described as probable sorcery, Uther called Gaius to examine the site, the scorch mark on the wall.
"Sorcery," Uther said. "It's the only explanation."
"We mustn't jump to conclusions, sire," Gaius said.
"What other explanation could it be?" Uther said. "The guard reported seeing an unnaturally bright light, its heat so intense that they could feel it from the other side of the corridor. These scorch marks would seem to support their story."
"But they appear to have been there for some time," Gaius said, examining the marks. "Did the guards get a look at this man?"
"No, it was too dark."
"Unfortunate," Gaius said. "I can see no evidence of magic."
Uther was still not convinced, and with that sorcerer on the loose, he felt that Arthur and Krysia and Morgana were at risk.
"There is a strange odor," he said. "How do you explain that?"
Gaius pointed down the corridor, and Uther looked as if he would see whatever Gaius was suggesting.
"It's coming from the grain store there," Gaius said. "It's alecost for the tavern. They use it in their brewing."
"Brewing?" Uther said, puzzled. He would have thought it smelled more like burnt flesh, but he did know very little about the process of brewing.
"Indeed sire," Gaius said. "It imparts a special flavor."
"Very well," Uther said, leaving with a frown.
Perhaps Krysia was right. Perhaps he was seeing monsters everywhere, when none were to be found.
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Leon stood with Geraint and Brennis and a few other knights who had decided not to partake in the tournament, and he held his breath when Morgana and Krysia took to the royal box. Krysia had clearly sat still long enough for Enid to do her hair as Enid wished, and as much as Krysia said it made little difference, he quite agreed with Enid, silently. She looked marvelous.
"I thought she hated wearing those colors," Geraint whispered.
She was wearing red and gold again, as she occasionally did, although almost never since the courtship with Uther was dissolved.
"The tournament is a special occasion," Leon said. "Krysia knows the importance of ceremony for public morale."
Geraint hummed, although Leon did not miss that Uther looked directly at her when he won his match, as if hoping for her to be impressed and approved, as if he was hoping to court her all over again.
But Leon knew her well enough to know this was not how to impress Krysia. Melees and tourneys of this type were nothing to her. Jousting was the only way to really impress her, the only thing that she respected more than she feared it. Leon had spent a lifetime crafting his jousting and all its requisite skills, ironically, and she'd fallen in love with a man who may or may not be able to joust, but from what Leon had seen at the melee, Gwaine could probably win any melee held, whatever the rules.
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Krysia followed Morgana, who was following Uther into Arthur's tent, probably to gloat. Arthur looked very stark, and Krysia held her breath.
"Have you seen who you are to face in the semifinal tomorrow?" Uther said. "Might need to put in some practice."
"Well, the crowd are really looking forward to it," Morgana said brightly, ignoring Arthur's expression. "So am I." Arthur pushed passed Krysia, and as he left, Morgana said, "It should be quite a match!"
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Again, Krysia wore red and gold on the day of the semifinal, but today Geraint said nothing about it. Half the crowd was wearing whatever they had that resembled the colors of the Pendragon crest, father and son slated to fight as they were.
Leon watched the match as Uther and Arthur squared off, but he kept looking back to Krysia who seemed extremely uncomfortable.
Arthur and Uther shared some words, likely taunting each other, and then both donned their helmets. The crowd watched the fight with excitement, and it became clear fairly quickly that despite Uther's great skill, Arthur was the better fighter. Arthur had grown greatly in skill, and Uther was no longer a young man.
Uther fell, and Uther struggled to get back on his feet. Again, Arthur was taunting his father, and Leon spared a look at Krysia, who was quite literally perched on the edge of her seat as if wishing the whole thing would end.
The fight continued, however, and it became clear to Leon that Arthur had backed off, allowing Uther to get back into the fight, and then even allowing him to win. Leon couldn't help smiling a little at that. Only a few years gone, Arthur wouldn't have seen the value in letting someone win, as Leon had often done with Arthur. It was a great sign that the prince had matured, and it seemed from the way Krysia had relaxed, she was thinking the same thing while Uther took a bow for the people.
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In the morning, Uther was still turning over the hollow victory over Arthur in his mind. It was the noble thing to do, and Uther was proud of his son, but he would have preferred such a gesture in the final, when he could appreciate it, and not before another fight, however trivial.
And then Arthur entered while Uther was putting on his armor.
"Come to wish you luck," Arthur said.
"Against a boy?" Uther said.
"He's reached the final."
"Arthur, even you could beat him!" Uther said, perturbed.
Arthur raised an eyebrow and said, "Perhaps you should ask the Lady Krysia for a favor, then, if you won't accept my wishes for luck. If she's inclined to grant you anything."
Uther pushed passed him. He'd actually thought of asking Krysia for a favor the prior night, but when she came to breakfast in her father's colors, he decided it was a foolish whim and pushed it aside.
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Again, Leon's breath caught when Krysia took to the royal box for the final, this time wearing her own colors, a beautiful headdress, and his mother's pendant. If possible, she looked more nervous than she had during the semifinal, and he wished he were closer so that he could give her some support.
Uther donned his helmet and raised his sword. The boy he was fighting echoed the motion, not looking nearly as impressive.
As one might have expected, Uther was winning the fight easily at first, but then the boy was beginning to get the upper hand on a series of coincidences, and it looked like the boy might even kill the king. Uther did manage to win, with the whole of the people cheering, but Leon couldn't do more than clap as he watched Uther go to kiss the hands of both Morgana and Krysia.
She was a grown woman, a strong woman, and she would not appreciate Leon defending her honor, or wishing to, over so small a gesture, but he did have a brief treasonous thought of running a knife over the king's lips for daring to touch her after everything that had happened. A thought best kept to himself, he knew, but one he couldn't erase.
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Krysia and Arthur sat alone at the dinner table for a long time, neither speaking. She wanted to tell him that it was alright that he hadn't won the tournament, that he'd done something more valuable, but instead she said nothing.
"That's Lady Evaine's pendant, is it not?" Arthur finally said.
Krysia touched it, quite forgetting she'd been wearing it.
"Yes," she said. "Leon gave it to me, said she'd want me to have it."
"I believe she would," Arthur whispered. He was about to say something else, but then Uther walked in with Morgana on his arm, and Arthur fell quiet.
"I thought the boy was going to kill me," Uther was saying.
"So did I!" Morgana said.
"Then, suddenly, the old fighting spirit kicked in. I dug deep, found my strength, and the whole thing just began to flow. I felt at one with the sword. My feet moved instinctively."
It was ludicrous, and Krysia knew what really happened was that Merlin had combatted whatever magic the boy had been using, but she forced a smile and said, "An excellent display, sire."
"And now," Morgana said, sitting beside Krysia, "you're champion once again. Maybe you can give Arthur some lessons!"
"It is I who learnt a great deal from our fight," Uther said seriously, the triumph of his victory suddenly falling away from his demeanor.
Krysia was surprised sitting straighter at this admission that she had never expected him to make, even in private to Arthur.
"I can't see what," Morgana said.
"I can think of quite a few things, actually," Krysia said firmly, and Morgana looked startled, but Uther just smiled.
"He's a far better warrior than you think," he said. "It is Arthur who should have claimed the prize."
"But sadly, he wasn't good enough," Morgana said, smirking.
"Because he threw the fight," Uther said, and Arthur choked as he was taking his drink, "that I might save face."
Krysia smiled, pleased both at the astonishment on Arthur's face and the clear frustration coming off Morgana in waves.
"Indeed," Krysia said. "He showed many things, maturity, grace, honor. There was a time I wasn't sure he'd learn any of them, so it truly was a remarkable display."
Uther laughed, but Arthur shook his head and said, "You knew?"
"I have followed your progress with a sword since you were a boy," Uther said. "I know your abilities better than anyone. I'm eternally grateful. I hope that when you are king and have sons of your own, that they will afford you the same honor. Indeed, the most satisfying outcome of the tournament is that Arthur's actions have shown me that he is now truly ready to be king."
Uther raised his glass, and Krysia quickly raised hers, which Arthur and Morgana echoed. The four of them clinked their glasses together, and Krysia didn't miss the bitter expression that lingered on the edges of Morgana's lips.
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Leon sat up, puzzled, trying to recall a dream he'd had before he started taking Gaius's remedy. He was sure it involved Krysia in that very dress she'd been wearing, and at the tournament ground, but not like he'd seen her today. She hadn't been wearing a headdress in the dream, for one. If he remembered correctly, Arthur had been there beside her, not fighting.
It had been so long now since he'd had any of the dreams that they were hard to put back together in his mind, but he thought he might have been kissing her hand in the dream, which was impossible. There was no future in which he could possibly win a tournament and earn the honor of approaching the royal box. By the time Arthur stopped competing, Leon would be far too old to compete.
Perhaps that's all the dreams had been, beautiful dreams, the balm of the universe for a lifetime without her, and something to cling to while she lived her life with someone else. A shame he'd had to let them go, but some things were too beautiful to endure.
A/N:
Good morning! Today I've got a few hours of work, and then I'm on winter break for two weeks, and you know what that means? Super regular (possibly daily, possibly twice daily) updates. AND GWAINE IS COMING BACK TO CAMELOT SUPER SOON. Because we've reached the season 3 finale, y'all! I'm so stoked. I've been working on dialogue patterns for this episode for MONTHS.
In related news, I'll also be updating the pre-story, Camelot: Forged from Ashes today, either before or after work, depending on how long the draft takes me to do up. I'd love if some of y'all popped over there and let me know what you think. With how long it's been since Merlin was on air, the fandom is a lot quieter than it used to be.
-C