Alright, here we go! Part Two. Time to ride horses and see where things go.
Though Peggy didn't know how to ride a horse—she'd never been able to afford one—the smell of the stables and straw was a common one in the village and something familiar to her. The stable itself was large, cool and shaded. She stepped inside, peering around a row of stalls to see if she could find Steve.
"Oh, there's my gorgeous girl," he said from somewhere off to her left and she jumped, feeling incredibly flustered until she finally spotted him and realized he was talking to a horse. "Hello, beautiful," he said, stepping forward and stroking the sleek black nose that poked out over the door of a stall. "Did you miss me?"
The horse in question made a soft nickering sound and nuzzled at his ear. He laughed and leaned into the motion, patting its nose. "I missed you too. Have they been taking good care of you?" He opened the door to move closer to the horse, and Peggy stepped forward. She watched him for a minute as he looked over the horse and patted its sides. Though the horse seemed to tower over him, he seemed very much at ease.
"Hello," Peggy said. The horse snorted, and Steve looked up and smiled.
"Oh, hi, Peggy," he said. He patted the horse's back. "Be nice," he told it. "This is Onyx," he said, turning back to Peggy. "Come on over and say hello."
Peggy stepped closer, eyeing the large horse carefully. It was big but sleek, a cool, silky black color all over except for a white patch between the eyes and above each of the hooves. Onyx seemed to be evaluating Peggy as well.
Steve chuckled, watching them eye each other up. "She's just protective," Steve said. He reached into a satchel on his hip and pulled out an apple. "Here, give her this."
He handed Peggy the apple, and she stepped forward and offered it to Onyx. The horse's skepticism vanished at once and she arched her neck forward and snapped up the apple, deftly avoiding nipping Peggy's fingers as well. She crunched happily on the fruit, then made the same soft nickering noise she had made earlier.
"See?" Steve said with a smile. "She's really just a big softie. You said you didn't know how to ride; would you like to learn how to put on a saddle?"
Onyx stood still as Steve saddled her and put her bridle on, talking Peggy through the process and showing her which straps to fasten. He clambered up onto the horse fairly gracefully in spite of the size difference, then leaned down and held out a hand to Peggy. She took his hand and let him help her up, grateful that he said nothing about the way she got her feet tangled in her skirts.
Steve looked back over his shoulder as she tried to position herself on the saddle so that she wouldn't fall off. "You should probably hold on to me," he told her. "We'll go slow, but I'd hate for you to fall."
A little uncertainly, Peggy put her arms around his waist. He shifted a little and adjusted her hands so that she had a better grip, then gave the reins a twitch. Instinctively, Peggy tightened her grip on Steve when they started to move.
They trotted out of the stables and towards the back gates, Steve waving and calling out a greeting to the stable boys and gardeners they passed. Peggy would have done the same, but she didn't think letting go of Steve would be a good idea. The back gate didn't pass through the town, just followed a dirt path out to the road that headed into the country. Onyx picked up speed a little bit when they hit the road, which was fine until it started edging towards a gallop. Steve didn't say anything, but he must have sensed the tension in Peggy's muscles, and he slowed them down.
Once Peggy was sure she wasn't going to fall, she started to enjoy the ride. It was a lovely day, warm and clear, with enough of a breeze to keep it from getting too hot. They rode along the road for a while, then off into a grassy field, crossing a couple of streams. Steve spoke occasionally to Onyx, but it was an otherwise quiet ride, each of them enjoying the view and simply being outside.
They headed into a wooded area, and, following a path Peggy couldn't see but with which Steve was evidently familiar, they soon arrived in a grassy clearing with a small pond. Steve brought Onyx to a gentle stop, then slid down to the ground to help Peggy off the horse. "Were you okay back there?" he asked. He flushed a little. "I've never ridden on a horse with anyone else once I got big enough to ride on my own, but I realized about halfway through the ride that when Bucky rides with a girl, he lets them sit in front. You probably wouldn't have felt as much like you might fall off if we had done that."
"No, I was alright," Peggy assured him. "I just had to get used to the rhythm of the horse. It was a very smooth ride." She did not point out that her sitting in front might have made things more challenging—Steve was not significantly shorter than her, but had she been sat in front of him, he would have needed to strain his neck up to get a clear view of the road over her shoulder. She suspected that part of his blush came from the fact that he already knew that and was somewhat embarrassed that his stature had prevented him from being as gentlemanly as he otherwise would have been.
"This is a lovely spot," she went on. "Do you come here often?"
Steve smiled. "Yeah," he said, loosening Onyx's saddle. "It's one of my favorite spots." He nodded at the tree on the other side of the pond. "I like to sit over there and read or think. And Bucky and I used to climb up there and jump into the pond," he added with another nod, this time in the direction of the branch overhanging the water.
"Well, thank you for sharing it with me," she told him. He sat down in the grass and she dropped down beside him. Onyx snorted and wandered a short distance away to nibble at a bush. "How are you feeling after the ride?" she asked.
"A little tired," Steve admitted. "But not as much as I thought I would."
Peggy nodded. "Well, a nap here in the sunshine certainly falls onto the list of approved treatments," she told him.
He laughed. "Thank you for your permission, Doctor," he said with a grin. He stretched his arms out behind him and leaned back on his hands. "So, now that you've been an official royal healer for a while, how is it treating you?" he asked. "Living in Camelot and all that?"
"I haven't really seen much of Camelot," Peggy said. "But I'm enjoying my work very much."
Steve winced apologetically. "Sorry—keeping an eye on me would keep you inside most of the time. If you'd like, we can ride back through town on the way back so you can see it."
"I would like that," Peggy said. "And I really don't mind that looking after you has kept me indoors. As I said, it's not a bad job. And living in the palace is certainly different from my life back home."
"How so?" Steve wondered. "I mean, I imagine it would be, I just don't know a lot about your village."
They had talked some about her home before, but now that she'd been around the palace long enough, she was able to give him more of a comparison. Despite the fact that the palace was a far grander setting than her hut, it was really the people who were the most different. They did different things and spoke and acted in different ways, which had taken some getting used to. Different things seemed to be important here, and people looked at things in ways she wasn't accustomed to. But in the end, they were all still people, and for all the differences, she was starting to see similarities now too.
She told him about how certain people in Camelot reminded her of people back home—the duke who had the same way of moving as the blacksmith, which made Peggy suspect that he also had arthritis; the lord's aide who paid very little attention to his master during council meetings and very much attention to the serving girl who was often sat a few seats over, very much like the butcher's assistant who often handed out the wrong cuts of meat when a particular milk maid was anywhere nearby; or the castle cook, who was skeptical of Peggy's requests for the omission or addition of certain menu items for Steve, which reminded her of the old seamstress who lived next door to her who never appreciated any suggestion that a method other than the one she had used for seventy years might be acceptable.
Somehow, the conversation came around to her family. Peggy didn't usually talk about her family with people, and she was already part of the way into the conversation before she realized that was what she was doing.
"I kind of hate to ask," Steve said when she stopped. "But I noticed you keep talking about them all in the past tense. Are they…"
Peggy nodded. "They're dead," she confirmed.
"I'm sorry," Steve said.
"Thank you," she said. "It…My parents, that was a long time ago. I don't actually remember them, beyond what my brother told me. They died in the beginning of the Great Purge."
"They were magicians?" Steve asked.
She nodded. "Michael, he…That was five years ago. It's been a while, but still…" It was still painful to dwell on. "He was a magician too, and he got caught." She sighed heavily. "I tried to get him out; I didn't care if it ended up exposing me too and we had to go on the run. He wouldn't have it, though," she said. "He said it was his own fault he got caught, and he didn't want me ruining my life for his sake. Of course, that wasn't going to stop me, and he knew that. But they moved his execution up, and he died before I could…" She stopped, swallowing down a knot in her throat. "I've always wondered if he didn't do something, something he knew would make them angry enough to move his execution forward so that I wouldn't have time to help. If that was his way of keeping me safe," she whispered.
She was staring at her feet, and after a second, she felt a tentative but gentle arm slide over her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Peggy," Steve said softly.
She nodded. After a couple of minutes, she looked up, having regained her composure. "You're the first person I've told that to," she said.
Steve smiled sadly. "I'm honored that you felt like you could." He pulled his arm away and sat back, looking down at the ground. "And I've always thought that you were kind, but you're a far bigger person than I've been giving you credit for."
Peggy arched a puzzled eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
He shot an embarrassed look up at her. "You would have had every right to refuse to help me after what my family has done to yours. It was my father's decree that got your parents and your brother killed. And it was my mother dying to save me that made him make that decree in the first place, so you could even say it was my fault. But here you are."
He was looking down at the ground again, and Peggy reached over and slipped a hand over his, making him look up at her in surprise. "I will admit that I do blame your father for my parents' deaths, and my brother's as well, even though he wasn't directly the one to kill him. And, the more I learn about your father, the less I like him. But your father didn't really factor in to my decision to come here," she said. She smiled. "That was mostly the money."
Steve smiled at that.
"There was also how sincere your brother was in his concern about you," she went on. "I couldn't in good conscience have turned down such a desperate request for help. And then once I got here…" She squeezed his hand. "You're nothing like your father, Steve. I can't recall having met a kinder, gentler soul, and you are in no way to blame for how other people reacted to the events around you when you were three weeks old. I sincerely enjoy your company, and I'm very happy to call you my friend. So, here I am."
He was staring at her with wide eyes, and she noticed for the first time how long and soft his eyelashes were above the shining blue. He blinked slowly, his mouth hanging slightly open, and her eyes were drawn to his lips, and she had never really appreciated before just how lovely they were. They stared at one another, frozen in time for a long second before a bird flew out of the bushes and startled Onyx, making the horse snort and jump. They both jumped back, and Peggy felt her cheeks flushing.
"Thanks," Steve said a little awkwardly. "I…uh…thanks." He smiled sheepishly. "I'm glad you're my friend too." He stood up and walked over to Onyx, who had calmed down but was glaring angrily at the bush. He patted her flank and stroked her neck, and that seemed to mollify her. "Would you like some lunch?" he asked, unhooking a bag that had been tied to the saddle. "I wasn't in a hurry to rush back to the castle, so I thought I'd bring something." He walked back over with the bag and sat down again. "Hopefully the contents of the meal are up to my doctor's specifications," he added with a grin.
They ate lunch and the conversation lightened. Peggy was not as embarrassed as she would have thought after sharing what she had about her family—there was something about Steve that not only invited such confidence, but that made her feel it was safe to do so. She was embarrassed about the fact that she kept dropping her eyes down to stare at his lips, but she didn't think he noticed.
They chatted for a little while before Steve started to yawn, and Peggy assured him she would not be offended if he were to stretch out in the sun and have a bit of a sleep. She sat there for a bit, just listening to the birds and watching the butterflies flit around the bushes before she drifted off herself.
She was alone when she woke up. Steve had woken up before her, and was standing over on the other side of the pond with Onyx. Her saddle was off and she was enjoying a leisurely roll in the grass. Peggy smiled and stood up, brushing the grass from her skirts. "Looks as though she's enjoying herself," she said.
"Oh, yeah," Steve agreed. "I always have to let her do this before she'll go back to town."
They stood there until Onyx had thoroughly finished her rolling, then Peggy helped Steve saddle her up again. "Hang on a moment," Peggy said, after Steve helped her up onto the horse. "I'm afraid this isn't going to be very ladylike, but…" She fussed with her skirts and her legs for a moment until she was able to get one leg up and over the horse instead of sitting side-saddle. She was showing a bit of leg now, but she felt much more secure in her position. "I think I'm less likely to worry about falling off now."
Steve looked back, blushed adorably at the sight of her bare calf, then nodded and turned around to get the horse moving again. They went a bit faster this time, and Peggy was able to enjoy the ride more. Steve slowed down as they approached the road that led to the front gates and into town, and Peggy shifted so that she was sitting properly again and rearranged her skirts to cover her legs—it was a slow enough pace she could stay on, and she didn't want to cause a scandal.
Instead of taking the direct path back to the castle, Steve steered Onyx through some of the main streets, pointing out places of interest in the town, and calling out friendly greetings to the people who waved at him. They wended their way back to the castle, and Steve waved off the approaching page with a smile and took Onyx back to the stable himself. He removed her saddle and showed Peggy how to brush her down, then they spent a few moments feeding Onyx apples from a large bin by the corner.
"She's a lovely horse," Peggy told him.
"She is," Steve agreed. He smiled. "She's a little big for me, but she's gentle."
"She is rather large," Peggy said. "How did she come to be yours?" she wondered. She would have thought Steve would have a smaller horse that was easier to get onto and control, although he was right that Onyx didn't seem inclined to use her size to fight him.
Steve laughed. "She was a lot smaller when Bucky gave her to me. Nobody had any idea she was going to get so big, but, you know…" He shrugged and stroked the horse's nose. "She grew up with me, so she's used to me and she trusts me." He kissed her nose and patted it gently. "That's my good girl," he said.
When they got back inside, Peggy ran her usual diagnostic spells to make sure he hadn't over-extended himself while they'd been out. He was tired but well, and Peggy was pleased with how well he'd been responding to the medicine she'd been giving him for his heart and to strengthen his lungs.
"You know, my heart feels better even than it used to when I wasn't sick," Steve said after she told him as much. "It doesn't feel like it's straining as much, and I haven't felt it fluttering in a long time." He smiled at her. "I don't know if I've actually thanked you for that."
"You don't have to," Peggy told him.
"Yes, I do," he said. "You…Peggy, you're amazing. I know I have a little way to go yet, but I'm still having trouble thinking of a time I've ever felt better. Thank you." He took her hand and squeezed it warmly. "Thank you."
Peggy smiled, feeling a lump of emotion in her throat at the sincerity in his eyes. "You're welcome, Steve," she said. "I'm glad I can help."
He held onto her hand for a moment longer, looking as though he wanted to say something else, but he just smiled and squeezed her hand again and let go.
The next couple of days were uneventful. Peggy did start to wonder if she needed to keep attending the council meetings with Steve, but once or twice the dusty old sheets of parchment still gave him a coughing fit. The other council members seemed to have noticed, and had gotten into the habit of keeping the sheets at the other end of the table, or shaking them out a few paces away when they unfurled them. (Except for the Grand Duke Alexander, who Peggy suspected was enjoying dropping the dust-covered folios dramatically onto the table in front of him when he sat down across from Steve.)
There had also been a couple of days off from work, which Steve had used to show her around the palace and to take her into the city and show her around there. They walked through the marketplace, and he took her to the pub that James and several of the knights frequented. He wasn't much of a drinker himself, but he swore that Briony, the tavern owner, made the best apple tarts in the kingdom. He'd tried many times to offer her a job in the palace, to no avail.
"Well," Peggy said, as they sat at a table in the corner. "You're right about the tarts. These are divine."
"Aren't they?" Steve agreed, already on his second.
Peggy laughed. "I should have been ordering these for you a couple of weeks ago when I couldn't get you to eat. Does she deliver?"
Steve laughed and snorted and almost choked on a piece of crust.
"Can I ask you something?" Peggy asked after a moment.
"Sure," Steve said.
Peggy bit her lower lip. "This has been bothering me since yesterday. I sort of feel it isn't my place to say, because you're the prince, and I'm nothing near to royalty, but…"
"Peggy," Steve told her. "It's fine. Whatever you're trying to say, you can say it."
Peggy smiled. "I do know you well enough to know you won't have me flogged for impertinence; I just don't want to overstep."
"What is it?"
"Yesterday in the council meeting, there was this long discussion about the difficulty in collecting end of year taxes, because people were always late, and difficult to track down, and so forth," she said.
Steve nodded. "I remember."
"And while I think the idea of basing them on a person's income instead of a flat rate is a brilliant idea, I think you're going about the means of collecting it all wrong." The answer to the problem had seemed obvious to her, but it had taken her some time to realize why it hadn't occurred to anyone on the council.
"How so?" Steve asked curiously.
"No one on the council has ever lived in a village, have they?"
Steve smiled, but his cheeks colored a little. "No."
"September is the worst possible time of year to try to collect taxes," she told him. "Depending on how the weather goes, it's either the beginning or the middle of harvest time, and everyone is incredibly busy. Everyone is also down to their last coins until they can sell the aforementioned harvest, and when given the choice between taxes and dinner, dinner is always going to win. There also tends to be more of a financial strain on families during harvest time, since that's when more than half of all the babies in the village are born, so there's an additional expense on top of being low on money to start with."
"I was following you until the baby thing," Steve said. "I mean, I get why they add expenses, but what does harvest season have to do with there being so many babies?"
Peggy smirked. "Well, there's not a lot to do in the villages in the winter when it's so cold and gets dark so early. Harvest season is about nine months later, so…"
Steve looked confused for a moment longer before turning what was quite frankly an adorable shade of red. "Oh," he said. "Okay. Right."
"So, September is not really a good time, finance-wise," she continued, taking pity on him and putting the conversation back on track. "I think if you moved the collection date to November, you'd have far less trouble."
Steve was nodding. "That makes sense. Gives things time to slow down."
"And I've been paying attention during the meetings—mostly—and since I recall someone saying the budget isn't even put together until January, a November collection doesn't mess anything up," she finished.
Steve chuckled at her 'mostly' amendment, but he seemed to be giving the rest of her proposal some serious consideration. "That's a really good idea," he said at last. "I hadn't even thought of all of that stuff you mentioned, but once you lay it out there, it seems foolish not to take it into account." A mischievous grin tugged up one side of his mouth. "Even for those who wouldn't be as worried about the humanitarian side of things, you could sell it on how much easier it would be to get the money."
Peggy smiled back, pleased and a little surprised that he had listened, though she wasn't sure why. Steve had disagreed with her before—usually on things he did or didn't want to do regarding his healthcare—but she had yet to see him dismiss her input out of hand.
Steve smiled. "That's really…I'm going to bring that up in the next meeting. Thank you," he told her.
For some reason, Peggy found herself feeling suddenly shy. "It was just something I thought would be worth pointing out."
"It was," Steve affirmed. "Actually, there's probably some other stuff I should ask you about later. That kind of perspective is something I think the council could use more of." He blushed a little. "None of us know to think that way."
Peggy smiled. "I'd be happy to help."
It was a couple of days later that James and his knights returned from their negotiations. It had been a successful trip, and there was much ado and fanfare about the whole affair. Peggy accompanied Steve to the hall to meet him, though she stood to the side with the aides and courtiers. James gave his report, and though he remained professional, Peggy caught him shooting several surprised glances at Steve, who was standing to the king's left. The king was grinning broadly, stepping forward to clap James heartily on the back when he was done and announcing to everyone that there would be a feast tonight to celebrate his son's success and return.
When the crowd finally began to disperse, James stepped up the steps and closer to Steve, looking him up and down like he couldn't believe it. "Look at you!" he declared. "You look great! You're all…standing up and breathing and everything!" He hugged him tightly, then stepped back to take a look at him, leaving his hands on his shoulders. "And I don't feel like I'm hugging a bag of sticks this time. Have you actually put on weight?"
Steve laughed. "Yes, I have. This doctor you hired for me keeps forcing me to eat. You know she's making me eat three meals a day now?"
James laughed and hugged his brother again. "Oh, it's good to see you," he said.
"You too, Buck," Steve replied, hugging him back.
"And I was hoping you'd be doing better by the time I got back, but I was never expecting this," James went on. James turned away from Steve and scanned the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw Peggy walking toward them. "You!" he said, pointing at her and grinning broadly. "You are amazing."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Peggy said with a smile.
"She's more than amazing," Steve put in. He gestured at his chest. "Feel my heart."
James placed a hand on Steve's chest, concentrating for a moment, then turned back to Peggy with an amazed smile on his face. "Oh, I could kiss you," he said. He moved forward like he was going to hug her, then caught himself. "Thank you," he told her sincerely. "You…Thank you."
"I've been very happy to help, Sire," she said with a smile. "Though I couldn't have done it had your brother not been such a fighter. He's terribly stubborn." Having treated him for this long and seeing how sick he should have been, Peggy was convinced part of the reason Steve was still alive was because someone had told him he was supposed to die and he decided to prove them wrong.
James laughed. "Oh, she knows you well, Stevie." He threw an arm over his brother's shoulders. "C'mon. Tell me how you've been." He steered him toward the door.
"You really are some sort of miracle worker, aren't you?" laughed a deep voice from behind Peggy. She turned to see one of the knights watching the brothers walk away. He was a very large man, and between that and the unruly mustache, Peggy imagined this was Dugan. He was massive and rather intimidating, but he flashed her a charming smile. "I've never seen the kid look so good."
"Known him for a while, have you?" Peggy wondered.
"Oh, yeah," Dugan replied. "I've been training with James since he was big enough to hold a sword. Steve was always around somewhere. You were right about calling him stubborn," he added with a chuckle. "I woulda thought he'd have died about a hundred times by now. But he keeps hanging in there." A thought occurred to him and he held out a hand. "Oh, I'm Dugan, by the way."
"Peggy," Peggy replied with a smile, taking the offered hand.
"My lady," he said with another charming smile, bringing her hand to his lips for a quick kiss.
"Is your shoulder bothering you?" Peggy wondered, noticing the way he moved as he lifted his arm.
"Oh, took a bad tumble off my horse on the way back," he said, not sounding concerned. "I'm not exactly graceful on the thing, and some rabbit ran out into the road and scared it. It'll be fine in a couple of days."
"Would you like me to have a look?"
He arched an amused eyebrow. "Being treated by the prince's personal physician? Not every day a fellow gets an offer like that. Sure."
Peggy took him up to Erskine's quarters, thinking it might not be appropriate to take him to hers. He was big enough that even sat on a stool, she didn't have to reach down to examine his shoulder. It was easy to work out the trouble, and Erskine had the materials she needed to mix up a quick ointment for him to take.
"You'll rub it into your shoulder like this," she said, demonstrating. She used the opportunity to slip just a bit of magic into the motion—just enough to pull the torn ligament back together and let the rest of it heal naturally. "Once in the morning and once before bed. Give it time to dry before putting your shirt on—that way it can soak into the muscles."
Dugan nodded, moving his shoulder experimentally. "It feels better already. Thank you, my lady," he said, standing up with a grin.
"Call me Peggy."
"Thank you, Peggy."
When she got back down to her quarters, Angie was waiting for her, looking frazzled. "There you are!" she declared. She grabbed Peggy's arm and yanked her inside, kicking the doors shut behind her.
"What's happened?" Peggy wondered.
"Hurry," Angie ordered, not answering the question and shoving her toward the room to the side with the tub. "The water should still be hot."
"Angie, what are you doing?" Peggy asked.
"Trying to get you ready in time," Angie replied, starting to undo the buttons on the back of Peggy's dress.
Peggy slapped her hand away. "Ready for what?"
"For what?" Angie huffed, exasperated. "For dinner! You can't go looking like that!"
"Why can't I eat dinner like this?"
Angie put her hands on her hips. "You're not going to the hall in your work clothes."
"The hall?"
"Yeah. The hall. As in, the Great Hall," Angie said. "As in, you're going to the feast tonight. That hall."
"I'm going to the feast?" This was the first Peggy was hearing of it.
"Yes. So get in the tub!"
Peggy did so, and Angie seemed more inclined to explain after Peggy started cooperating.
"The princes came by looking for you while you were gone," Angie said from the other side of the screen around the tub. Peggy wasn't sure what she was doing, but she was making an awful racket. "They wanted to invite you to the feast tonight."
"Oh," Peggy said. "That was very kind of them. I suppose it might be a good idea for me to be there to keep an eye on Prince Steven." She didn't think it was normal for someone of her station to be invited to something like that, but she imagined it was like the council meetings and she shouldn't be too far away.
Angie poked her head around the screen. The eyebrow she was shooting Peggy was both exasperated and amused. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you," she said. "You weren't invited to work; you were invited as a guest. So wash your hair." She disappeared around the screen again.
When Peggy was done, there was an absolutely stunning dress flung over the top of the screen waiting for her. "Oh," Peggy breathed, running a hand over the material. "Angie, this is gorgeous. Is this silk?"
"Yep," Angie said.
Peggy was almost afraid to put it on, it was so nice. The body of the dress was a deep, soft red. At the shoulders, it changed to a whitish gold all the way down the sleeves, but there was a second layer of shimmery, sheer red that went over the sleeves and across the back, clipping into place just under her chest with a gold belt. The gold sleeves were fitted to the wrist, and the red ones were loose and flowy. It was the softest thing Peggy had ever worn.
She stepped out from behind the screen a little uncertainly. "Oh, honey," Angie said. "Wow."
"You don't think it's a bit…" The dress was more fitted than Peggy was used to wearing, and it was cut lower than she was accustomed to. Not scandalously so, but Peggy was rather gifted in that area. Between the cut of the dress, the gold floral pattern embroidered across the chest and the belt that clipped just beneath it, she felt as though she was drawing a lot of attention to the area.
"Oh, trust me, this is conservative," Angie told her. "You'll see when you get there. Lots of the ladies in the court like to use feasts and such to show off their best assets, but not in a classy way, like this dress. I'm not one to gossip," she continued, and Peggy just managed to contain a snort. "But last feast, the Countess of Northmarsh?" Angie shook her head. "The woman brought enough cleavage for the whole room. You'll be fine in this. Now sit," she said, indicating the stool in front of the mirror.
Peggy did so. She studied her appearance as Angie did things with her hair, and she had to admit, she looked good. And Angie had yet to lead her astray so far, so she would trust her as far as the dress went.
It took Angie quite a long time to do Peggy's hair. She first brushed it out with copious amounts of lavender water, then worked some sort of cream through it before getting down to actually styling anything. The twisted braids she'd been doing for the council meetings only looked complicated, but this actually was complicated. There were curls and tiny braids and lots of twisting and pinning and tucking. "There!" Angie declared at last. She had pulled Peggy's hair back into a tightly fastened knot that rested to the back of her head, with little braids running back towards it and wrapping around it, and then it all spilled down towards her shoulders in soft curls. She stuck a small gold pin into the knot, then stepped back to critique her handiwork. "Beautiful."
"Angie, that is lovely," Peggy said, trying to get a better look at the side without moving her head too much.
"Oh, go ahead and move," Angie said. "The way I pinned it, that thing's not coming down."
Peggy shook her head, carefully at first, and then a bit more vigorously. She smiled. "You must teach me your secrets."
Angie laughed. There was a knock at the door and her eyes widened. "That's the prince! Quick! Shoes! Over there!" She pointed to a gold pair of shoes by the screen and hurried to the door.
"The prince is here?" Peggy asked, putting on the shoes.
Angie rolled her eyes. "Yeah. He's here to escort you."
"Why? I know the way to the hall." She supposed it was good manners, but it seemed unnecessary.
Angie stopped by the door as if she wanted to thump her head into it. "You are so hopeless," she muttered to herself. She shook her head and pulled the door open part of the way. "Good evening, Your Highness."
"Hello, Angie," Steve's voice said from the other side of the door. "Is Peggy ready?"
Angie shot a quick look behind her. "She is," she said, opening the door a little wider and stepping out of the way as Peggy stepped forward.
Steve was standing there looking more royal than she'd ever seen him. He was wearing fitted black trousers, with dark leather boots up to the knee. Hanging down to mid-thigh was a shirt of chain mail, shining silver in the light. It was cinched with a rich leather belt, with the sleeves of a rich red tunic showing where the chain mail stopped at his elbows. Over the top of it all was a vibrant red cape with a gold dragon on the back, fastened at the shoulders with two intricately carved gold pendants shaped like dragons. Resting on top of his hair was a simple gold circlet, with rubies set into it in intervals around the middle.
"Hi, Peggy," Steve greeted. "I—" He stopped speaking as his eyes landed on her, his mouth dropping open. Somewhere out of sight, Angie giggled.
Peggy felt inexplicably shy as he stared, a pleased blush creeping across her cheeks.
"You, ah," Steve finally stammered, finding his tongue at last. "I mean, you look…" He waved a hand in her general direction. "That's really…"
Angie giggled again, and Peggy shot a scowl in the direction of the noise before sweeping forward to the door. "I hope the ends of those sentences are good," she said with a teasing smile.
"They are," Steve said earnestly. "I don't remember any words, but you look amazing."
Peggy's blush grew, as did her smile. "Thank you," she said softly, touched at his sincerity. She offered him her arm, and he seemed to remember what he was doing and reached over to take it. "You look very dashing yourself," she told him.
He blushed deeply, but he smiled. "Thanks."
They joined the flow of people moving into the Great Hall. The room was brightly lit with cheerful torches burning along all the windows and glinting off the stained glass. Three long tables were set up in a 'U' shape, with three ornate chairs at the middle one that were clearly for Uther and his sons, with other, less lavish seats for the honored guests. The wall behind the three ornate chairs was hung with shields and tapestries bearing the Pendragon family crest, the ever-present gold dragon. The tables were set to overflowing with food and wine, and Peggy wondered idly how many people it took to put together such an event on short notice.
Various lords and ladies were bustling about. Peggy could see what Angie had meant about her dress being conservative—the room around her was filled with ladies in gorgeous gowns, enough of them matching the cut of Peggy's for her not to feel out of place, but enough with plunging necklines and daring cutouts that she couldn't help gawking a little at seeing so much skin in such a formal setting. The diners mingled and made their way to their seats, and Peggy realized that seats were taken according to what appeared to be very strict guidelines. She had no idea what they were. "Steve, I don't know where I'm supposed to sit," she said quietly.
He chuckled. "Yeah, this right here is a whole political minefield," he said with a wave at the tables. "Lucky for you, you've got a guide to show you where to go," he told her with a smile. "You're going to be at the High Table with me."
Peggy's mouth dropped open. "I am?"
"You're my guest," he said. He smirked a little bit. "And I don't think you've quite grasped just how esteemed a position the prince's personal physician actually is. Especially a successful prince's personal physician."
"Really?" Peggy asked, a little skeptical. "Is that why people keep calling me 'my lady'?"
"That's why," Steve agreed, still chuckling. "Here," he said, stopping at one of the chairs and pulling it out for her. "Now, for all of that, I couldn't swing getting you the seat next to me," he added apologetically. "I think you'll have to have been around longer for that. I mean, if you want to be around longer," he added, sounding unsure if he'd misstepped. "We haven't really talked about that, with me getting better and all. Anyway, um, so, you'll sit right here," he went on pointing at the chair. "The knights who went on the trip with Bucky will be here next to you, and then me, and then Buck, and then Dad. The knights are great, and when people are moving around and stuff, you can always come over and come talk to me or something."
"I'll do that," Peggy said, smiling. She sat down, and Steve moved a few seats down to his place. There seemed to be some sort of signal that it was time to begin, and the rest of the stragglers drifted away from their conversations and toward the table. James took his seat between Steve and their father, and the four knights settled into their places—they'd determined who was sitting where through some sort of wager on the trip, and Peggy found herself seated next to Morita. The knights who hadn't been on the trip filled out nearly the entire table to their right. Seated on the king's other side was Grand Duke Alexander, who Peggy had learned by now was very cozy with the king. On the Grand Duke's other side was Erskine, which surprised Peggy a little until she remembered what Steve had said about her being allowed to be there because she was his physician—Erskine had been the physician to the king for many years, and it would seem the honor was still awarded in retirement.
Everything started with a few opening remarks from the king—he praised James for his successes and the knights for their part in helping him, and there was a round of applause before everyone got down to the business of eating. Apparently, the speeches and such came later.
The food was delicious, and Peggy found Morita to be very pleasant company. He was polite, and interested in healing himself, so they talked shop for a while about various herbs and remedies and procedures. Dugan leaned across Morita from time to time to chime in with a joke or witty remark. Jack and Gabriel were a little too far away to make any sort of conversation, but they both said hello.
After the main course, silence fell as the king stood up again to begin the speeches and toasts. He went over their history with Rufus's kingdom, and laid out what James's negotiating had accomplished for them, to much applause. He praised the knights again, and then James got up and thanked his father and the knights, said a piece of his own, then added several amusing anecdotes about their journey. He was a terribly charismatic speaker, and Peggy found herself listening with rapt attention. After James sat down, Steve stood up to give a brief speech welcoming his brother home and congratulating the whole party on their success.
James stood up again after the applause for Steve's remarks had died down and raised his glass. "A thousand pardons, my lords and ladies," he said. "But in all this celebration, I forgot one of the most important accolades of the evening! Perhaps it's the wine," he said with a roguish laugh. "It might be going to my head after three weeks of that water they call a good wine up north."
The room responded with uproarious laughter.
"But as I was saying," James continued, not sounding at all intoxicated despite the remark about the wine. He gestured in Steve's direction. "I'm sure you've all noticed that my brother, the Prince Steven, has been restored to good health."
Peggy's eyes went wide as she realized where this was going.
"And so, I would like to take this opportunity to thank his most excellent physician, the good lady Margaret," he said, using her proper name. "For her excellent work and her service to me and my family." He looked down the table and nodded at Peggy, sincere admiration shining in his eyes, and she got a little uncertainly to her feet. "To the lady Margaret!" he said, raising his glass.
"To the lady Margaret!" the room echoed vigorously.
Peggy was sure her cheeks were a brilliant shade of red, but she smiled and gave a little curtsy. She fairly dropped back into her seat when the applause died away and James sat back down.
Morita chuckled. "Weren't expecting that, huh?" he said.
"Not in the slightest," Peggy replied, downing the contents of her glass.
There seemed to be a break in the proceedings then before dessert, and people got up and started to mingle around. Morita got up to ask a countess's daughter he'd been eyeing to dance, and Peggy felt the uncomfortable presence of an unknown person coming up behind her.
"My good lady," a man's voice said, and Peggy turned to see Grand Duke Alexander standing behind her. He was handsomely dressed in rich robes of dark gray and tasteful silver jewelry.
"Oh, good evening, Sir," Peggy said, getting quickly to her feet and curtsying. He extended a hand to help her back up, and Peggy couldn't help noticing the ring on his finger. It was shaped like a large silver serpent, and perhaps it was the way the light hit it, but it looked as though it was moving.
"Do you like it?" he asked, noticing her noticing it. He pulled it off and held it out for her to inspect it more closely. "It's part of my family crest. The ring itself has been in my family for generations."
"It's a lovely piece," Peggy said. It really was, even though it still made her a bit uneasy. "The craftsmanship is exquisite."
"Thank you, good lady," he said, sliding it back on his finger with a smile. "And speaking of craftsmanship, I wanted to offer you my congratulations. It is not often one finds a healer so young with such great skill."
"Thank you, sir," Peggy said, not sure what else to say. She got the distinct impression he was looking for something. She wasn't sure what it was, but she didn't like it.
"You're one to keep an eye on," he said, still looking at her in that evaluating way. "I shall be very interested to see what you make of yourself."
He nodded and moved away and Peggy shivered.
"Never understood why the king likes him so much," Dugan said from where he was seated, working his way through what appeared to be the remains of a whole chicken. "He sure creeps me out."
"Indeed," Peggy agreed.
"Peggy!" Steve called, coming over. "I'm really sorry," he said when he reached her. "I didn't know Bucky was going to do that, or I would have let you know."
"It's alright," Peggy assured him, stepping away from the table so Dugan could finish his chicken in peace. Steve followed.
"What did the Grand Duke want?" Steve wondered.
"To congratulate me on my work helping you," Peggy said.
"Well, that's…thoughtful," Steve said.
Peggy understood his hesitation. "Yes. Is it odd that what should have been a simple compliment made me feel so uneasy?"
Steve shook his head. "He has that effect on a lot of people." He pointed to the fire across the hall. "They're roasting chestnuts over there—would you like to go get some?"
Peggy thought that sounded lovely, and she appreciated the chance to get up and walk around a bit after such a heavy meal—especially if dessert was still yet to come. Steve pointed out who various members of the court were that they passed, and they were stopped and greeted by several of them. After taking a handful of chestnuts each, they continued their tour of the room, leaning in closely to speak to each other over the sound of the music.
"Hey, there you are!" James said, breaking away from a circle of knights to come join them. "You guys enjoying the party?"
Steve sighed. "Yeah, but, Bucky, you should have told Peggy you were going to have her stand up and everything. You can't just throw that at people without any warning. Not everybody enjoys the spotlight as much as you do."
"Oh," James said. He clearly hadn't thought of that. "I'm sorry," he said, turning to Peggy. "I just wanted people to know what a great job you were doing. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's alright, Sire," Peggy said with a smile. "Although I was a bit surprised. A warning next time would be appreciated."
"I'll remember that," James said. A bell chimed on the other side of the hall. "Oh, looks like it's time for dessert. Come on," he said, moving back in the direction of the table. "Gavin's going to do a ballad while we eat. You'll like him," he told Peggy. "He's the best storyteller in court."
They returned to their seats as dessert was being served—it was a splendid array of fruit tarts with cream and honey. Peggy helped herself to strawberry and blueberry, with generous helpings of cream. Beside her, Morita was making slightly indecent noises as he inhaled his blackberry tarts. "Enjoying yourself, are you?" Peggy chuckled.
"I've been on the road for three days eating increasingly stale bread," he said, not slowing down his pace. "Let a man enjoy his tarts in peace."
Peggy laughed. "Let it never be said I was one to stand in the way of sugar and fruit."
Gavin the bard began his storytelling, and James was right, he was very good. His voice was loud enough to carry through the hall and soft enough to make you lean in, and it was deep and rhythmic, rolling pleasantly through the room and weaving together the story of a knight and a fairy curse like a tapestry.
When the story ended, the music began again, and people got up to mingle or dance. Servants moved around the room with wine and little snacks, winding their way through the crowded room without spilling a drop or a morsel. Morita was off to dance with his countess's daughter again, and Dugan had left the room altogether with one of the more daringly dressed duchesses. Peggy moved to get up to talk to Steve, but he seemed to be involved in some sort of argument with James. She hesitated, and James noticed her and pointed in her direction, nudging Steve with his elbow. Steve went very red and James laughed, clapped him on the back, and stood and walked away. Steve drew in what appeared to be a fortifying breath and took a long drink from his wine glass before getting up.
"Everything alright?" Peggy asked.
Steve sighed. "He was just…" He couldn't seem to find the words he wanted. "He was just being a big brother," he said at last, sounding more annoyed than he did angry.
"Mm," Peggy said, nodding. "Giving you a hard time, was he?"
"Oh, yes," Steve agreed. He seemed to be debating saying anything more, then nodded out toward the center of the room. "Let's see if we can catch Thomas over there," he said, indicating one of the servants with a tray. "The spiced mead he's carrying is very good."
Peggy agreed, and they wended their way through the crowd to where Thomas was. Steve was right, the mead was very good, and they each took a goblet as they continued their turn of the room. Out in the center, the dancers were moving—about half of the crowd of lords and ladies and the knights. Prince James was out there, laughing merrily as he switched partners with each song, and even the king was dancing, though he didn't seem to be enjoying it as much as his son was.
Steve chuckled. "Dad looks like he's having a great time, doesn't he?" he said, nodding at his father. Uther was currently dancing with an older woman who appeared to be chatting his ear off, and he wasn't doing a very good job of disguising the fact that he looked like he would rather be anywhere else. "He doesn't really like to dance, but there are certain people he has to make nice with."
Peggy nodded. "Politics again?"
"Politics," Steve confirmed.
"Do you dance?" Peggy wondered.
Steve had been taking a drink and he choked on the mead and started to cough. "Um," he said at last, a bit red in the cheeks. "Maybe? I don't…I'm not very good."
Peggy nodded with a smile out to the dance floor at Morita and the countess's daughter. "Neither of them looks as though they're very good at it, but they seem to be having a nice time. A lack of skill isn't an obstacle to enjoying yourself."
For some reason, the statement made Steve go even redder, and he was quiet for a couple of minutes, taking another long drink of his mead. "Are you…" he started, then stopped. "Oh, I'm so bad at this. Are you…saying that you want to dance?"
"Oh," Peggy said. "I'm sorry, no, I wasn't trying to imply that you should ask me." Perhaps that was why he'd looked so uncomfortable.
"Oh. Because, I mean, if you want to, we, we can. If you want to."
He looked somewhat terrified by the prospect, and Peggy smiled and took pity on him. "Not tonight, I think," she said. "I don't know that I would be very light on my feet after a meal like that. But perhaps another time?" she added, finding she was not opposed to the idea.
"Yeah, another time," Steve agreed. "We can do it another time." He took another long drink. "Would you like to maybe walk out on the balcony for a little while?"
"Sure," Peggy said, and they moved in the direction of the large doors. The night air was cool and very welcome after the crowded room. Steve drew in a deep breath. "Was it getting a bit stuffy in there for you?" Peggy asked.
Steve nodded. "A little. Just all the heat and the smoke from the fire and everything."
"Are you breathing alright?"
He nodded again. "I am. I just needed some clearer air."
"It's a bit quieter out here as well," Peggy added. She moved forward and leaned against the railing. The town below them looked soft and sleepy in the moonlight, dotted with the sparkling lights of torches or fires peeking through windows. The countryside beyond was dark, rolling away like the sea toward the darker distance where the forest began. She looked over toward a hill silhouetted against the stars.
"Is that where you live?" Steve asked, joining her at the balcony and nodding in the direction of the hill.
"Yes," she said. "My village is just on the other side."
Steve nodded. "Do you miss it?" he asked after a moment.
"Sometimes," Peggy said. She didn't have a family to tie her there, but she did miss her friends and the simpler lifestyle there.
Steve nodded again. "Do you want to go back?" he asked, and was it Peggy's imagination, or was that hesitation in his voice? "I just…You know, you have a life there and everything, and I wouldn't want for you to think I'm going to make you stay here forever. You've got me back into pretty good shape, so, you know, you could leave instructions for my medicines and things and I would probably be alright."
"Are you trying to get me to leave?" Peggy teased.
"No," he said, sincerely. "No, I…You should go or stay as you want to. I just…I like that you're here. Not just because you made me feel better, but because…I like having you here," he finished softly.
A shiver ran up Peggy's back that she didn't think had much to do with the cool night air. She could see that even in the dimmer light, Steve was blushing at this pronouncement, but his eyes were blazing sincerity and sparkling in the light of the stars above them. She found herself staring at his lips again. "I like being here," she replied after a moment, realizing she should say something. "I'm in no hurry to leave."
Steve smiled, and she smiled back, feeling that shiver run up her back again.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Steve said. "I didn't think that with your dress—you must be cold. Should we go back inside?"
"No, that's alright," Peggy said. It was getting a bit chilly, but she didn't know if she was ready for all the people and the noise again. "It's nice out here."
"Well, here," Steve said. "At least let me…" He trailed off as he fumbled with the dragon clasps on his shoulders, then unfurled his cape to settle it around Peggy's shoulders instead. "How's that?"
"Much better," Peggy said, smiling and reaching up to draw the cape a little tighter. "Thank you."
Steve smiled again, seemed to realize how close he was standing to her, and backed up a few paces.
They stayed out and chatted on the balcony for a while longer. As the party inside showed no signs of stopping, Peggy eventually suggested that it was getting late—she didn't want to be up all hours of the night, and while she was enjoying herself, she was still a physician and Steve was still her patient, and he still needed his rest.
They walked in and back up the stairs, where Steve told her good night at her door. He kissed the back of her hand before letting go, and Peggy couldn't help noticing how soft his lips were. "Good night, Steve," she said softly.
She had a bit of a lie-in the next morning, suspecting Steve wasn't going to be up and dashing about at his usual hour either. He was awake but moving slower than normal when she went to check on him, and he shrugged and said that his back always ached after he wore chain mail for too long. Peggy imagined that it must get very heavy after a while, and if Steve didn't do training with the knights like James did, it was little wonder it started to wear on his smaller frame. She had him lie face-down on his bed with his shirt off, and she got some of her oils and ointments and began to massage his back and shoulders. Steve's protest that that wasn't necessary stopped almost immediately as she worked her fingers over his muscles. He melted down into the bed and had fallen asleep by the time she was done. Peggy smiled, reached over and carefully turned his head so that he didn't suffocate in his blanket, and left to see about some breakfast.
Prince James found her when she returned with Steve from his afternoon walk, saying he had the payment for her that he had promised. Peggy's jaw fairly dropped at the weight of the bag of gold coins he handed her. He chuckled at her facial expression and told her she had more than earned it.
A new routine started to form, now that Steve was better and James had returned. James took over his old council duties, but Steve was well enough to attend his previous responsibilities. Many of them dealt with the people of the castle—even though James was in charge of the salaries, Steve was in charge of the staff. He also saw to a lot of the requests and appeals from outside the castle. Most of them were minor legal disputes about land, or requests for things like a new well for one of the villages. He told her his father looked at those things as the less important duties of royalty, which is why he gave them to Steve, but Steve liked them because they let him get to know people.
He was also spending more time in the council meetings than he had before. He'd only ever attended most of them in times when James was away, but this time he'd had some time to establish himself, and people had realized his input was valuable. His father had not been pleased, but James had insisted, and Uther had a much harder time saying no to his firstborn.
Steve being well enough to attend to his normal duties left Peggy with more free time than she'd had since coming to the castle. She still performed her daily checks and mixed up medicines for him, but he no longer needed her to shadow him as she had done. She used some of this time to start seeing more patients. It had been slow at first, people hesitant and apologizing, because they knew she wasn't the castle physician, so hopefully it wasn't presumptuous to ask, but it was just a little thing… Most of it was smaller things, like mixing up a tonic for gout for an older council member, or treating a kitchen maid's burned hand. Steve's health was still her primary focus, but she enjoyed seeing other patients as well. It gave her a chance to get to know people around the castle, and it was a routine not unlike being back at home. Once Steve heard about what she was doing, he arranged for the chamber across from hers to be cleared out so she wouldn't have to keep taking patients in her private chambers. Erskine helped her move some things of his down from his lab that he couldn't use anymore, and she soon had herself a proper clinic set up.
Still, the inhabitants of the castle were a relatively healthy group, so Peggy still had ample time to herself. Some of it she spent in the market with Angie, or perusing the castle's impressive library, but she still spent a great deal of it with Steve. They went out horse riding once or twice a week—he was teaching her how to ride, and had found a gentle little mare for her to ride named Lily. They also continued their daily walks together, as well as their chess lessons. Peggy had gotten good enough now to be able to beat him once or twice. They would also go out when the weather was nice and watch James train with the knights. Steve would occasionally go through exercises with them when they were there, but he didn't really like to—they were worried about injuring their commanding officer's sickly brother, and they went far too easy on him for him to get anything out of it. (Steve wasn't bad with a sword himself, but that had all been down to training with James.) It was a good chance to get to know some of the men, though. A few of them, like Dugan, had been training at the castle since they were young, and Steve often encouraged them to tell amusing stories about James as a young knight, which they were only too happy to do.
Though she wasn't needed to attend the council meetings with Steve anymore for medical reasons, there were times he would ask her along anyway. He had taken to heart the idea that they could use a different perspective, and he would often discuss with her the things they talked about. James had been surprised when he learned about that, but he conceded that she had some good points. "Just don't let Dad know," he said.
"The list of things your father will never know about me grows longer," she replied, and the princes both laughed at that.
Summer turned to harvest season, and Peggy was surprised at how quickly the months had passed. In some ways, she still felt like the newcomer to the castle, but in others, she felt rather at home.
As harvest season began to fade into winter, she found herself needing to pay a bit more attention to Steve's health. His joints bothered him when it got too cold, which was why they'd had that wheeled chair they had used earlier in the year—there had been times his knees hurt him so badly he could barely walk.
"It's just always been like that," he said, thanking and dismissing the aide who had been taking a letter for him because his hands hurt too much to hold a quill.
"Once again, I must express myself unimpressed with your previous healers," she said. "Here, drink this," she told him, pouring him a cup of the tea she'd been brewing over the fire.
He took a long sip, then made a face. "That is disgusting. What is it?"
Peggy chuckled. "Green tea with ginger and turmeric. It's not particularly tasty, but a cup of that every morning, and see if your joints don't start feeling better by the end of the week."
He frowned down at the cup. "Okay."
"I've also got this," she said, handing him a jar of greenish cream. "There's aloe in that and just a touch of magic to get it deeper into your joints. Put it on anywhere it hurts before you go to bed."
He took the jar a little more cheerfully. "Thank you."
She had a couple of exercises for him to try as well, and by the end of the week he reported that the pain was almost completely gone, though he maintained that the tea tasted awful. Her other standard remedy for joints that ached in the cold was to keep warm, which he was already doing anyway in an attempt to ward off the seasonal illnesses he was prone to. Peggy hoped that with all the precautions they were taking and the fact that he was in fairly good health now to start with, they could keep him out of the sickbed for the winter.
Another thing that happened as winter settled in was that James and the knights started going out more frequently to deal with skirmishes on the borders. It wasn't uncommon for that time of year—there were always raiders who showed up after harvest, looking to pillage the people's hard work. James and the knights were busy but successful in keeping the people and their food safe.
Steve was always worried when they went out, though he tried not to show it. "James is great with a sword," he said. "But he's not invincible. Much as he sometimes thinks he is." And it was true, James did sometimes come back rather worse for the wear, but nothing serious. Peggy had used magic occasionally to heal some of his wounds, but it often wasn't severe enough for that.
One rainy day, Peggy was in Steve's chambers playing chess with him when the door flung open and a wet, muddy James appeared, gasping for breath. "Oh, good, you're here," he panted, then he shouted, "Here!" and what seemed like the entire company of knights spilled into the room.
"What's going on? Are you okay?" Steve demanded, trying to look his brother up and down.
"I'm fine, but it was bad today; there were more of them than we thought there would be," he said. He looked at Peggy, piercing blue eyes pleading. "Morita needs your help."
The crowd of knights was moving back to the edges of the room, revealing Morita lying on a stretcher on the floor. He was caked with mud, but even underneath it all, Peggy could see far too much blood. "Bloody Nora," she muttered, stepping forward and dropping to her knees beside him. In all honesty, she was surprised he had made it back to the castle, the size of that hole in his stomach. If she was going to do anything, she was going to have to act quickly. "I need everyone to get out of here," she said. The knights shifted vaguely in the direction of the door, but didn't really go anywhere. "I need space," she said sharply, giving James a significant look. "Get them out."
"Everyone out!" James said, jumping back up and herding them towards the door. "She needs space to work. Out. All of you out." Soon there was no one in the room but him, Steve and Peggy, Morita gasping on the floor in front of them. "Can you help him?"
Instead of replying, Peggy leaned forward and placed both hands on Morita's chest. "Hálige!" she shouted. Acting so quickly, she was using more power than she would have otherwise, and gold light flared around her hands as the magic surged into his body. He jerked and gasped on the floor, but it was more a reaction of surprise than pain—he was still covered in blood and gore, but the wound in his torso had knit back together as if it had never been there.
Morita sat up gingerly, pressing a very uncertain hand to his midsection. He looked at Peggy, eyes wide with amazement, and possibly just a little bit of fear. "Wow," he whispered.
"Are you alright?" Peggy asked him after she'd caught her breath from the spell.
"Uh huh. You have magic."
"Yes," Peggy said, suddenly worried about how he would react. He was a knight, after all, and while James was the leader of the army, Uther was ultimately the one in charge, and one of his main directives was the illegality of magic.
"Okay," Morita said, still looking a little shellshocked. He turned to look at James, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "You knew she was going to do that," he said, though it came out sounding like a question. James nodded. "Okay," he said again.
"What the hell just happened?" came a deep, confused voice from the corner, making them all jump. Dugan was standing in the corner, and Peggy had no idea how a man his size could have blended into the shadows like that.
"I told you to get out," James said.
"I figured one person wouldn't be in the way," he replied, still staring in awe. "I wanted to make sure he was going to be okay," he added, gesturing at Morita.
James sighed and shook his head. "If you tell anyone about this…"
"I'm not gonna tell anybody," Dugan said, looking offended at the suggestion.
James turned his look on Morita, who snorted. "Oh, yeah, I'm going to let her save my life, and then turn her over to be executed," he said. "Your secret's safe with me." He smiled. "And thank you."
Peggy smiled back. "You're welcome."
"They might not be going to tell anyone about you, but if he just gets up and walks out of here, that might not matter," Steve said.
"That's a very good point," Peggy agreed.
Morita grinned. "Am I about to get some time off?"
James shook his head, trying not to smile. "Evidently."
"Awesome."
"You're going to have to spend it in bed, though," Peggy pointed out. "If you want to give the appearance of healing naturally from a gaping abdominal wound."
That seemed to dim his enthusiasm a little, but then he smiled. "At least I can catch up on my sleep."
Dugan chuckled, and Steve grinned. "Let me know if you need any pointers on playing the part." Even James laughed at that.
They sent Dugan over to Peggy's clinic to bring back a box of supplies so it would look as though Peggy was working, then they sat and waited for the time it would take to reasonably perform that sort of surgery. To pass the time, Dugan and Morita asked her every question about magic they could think of, even coming up with a few that Steve hadn't thought of when she was explaining magic to him. When enough time had passed, Morita got back on the stretcher so James and Dugan could carry him to a recovery room. Peggy followed, ostensibly to set everything right in the room so he could rest, then returned to Steve's room.
"I suppose I shall have to remember to check in on him a few times a day to keep up the charade," she said.
"You do this kind of thing often?" Steve wondered. "Back in your village, I mean."
Peggy shook her head. "There were people that knew. We were far enough away from the castle, it wasn't too much of a danger. And as far as serious injuries go, if you need to be careful, it's a lot easier to convince someone that as much as it hurt, the horse didn't actually crush anything vital when it stepped on them than it is to say someone's guts spilling out isn't that bad."
Steve laughed at that. "Good point."
A servant appeared then to clean up the mess from all the blood and mud, and Steve and Peggy went back to their chess game.
A few weeks passed as Morita carried out his imaginary convalescence, and he remarked several times that while it would be nice to get out of bed, lying warm and cozy and being waited on was a far sight better than fighting bandits out in the snow. Winter had well and truly fallen, and anywhere out of reach of one of the fireplaces was cold and miserable. Peggy saw a definite uptick in people coming to her for help with sniffles, coughs and fevers. She was keeping an especially close eye on Steve, who had started to wheeze a bit in the past week. At the moment, it was nothing more than the same seasonal chill affecting so many other people, but she knew it could quickly turn worrisome.
"You're as bad as Bucky. If you push my chair any closer to the hearth, these contracts are going to catch on fire," Steve complained, waving a roll of documents at her. He'd been doing more work in his chambers of late, not venturing out from the warmth unless he had to.
"Oh, hush," Peggy replied, sitting down in her own chair with a cup of tea. "If you're too hot, you can just move back."
He frowned at her, but didn't move, and she smiled. He returned his eyes to his work. Peggy watched him for a minute over the top of her teacup. He was sitting in his chair with his feet drawn up and tucked underneath his cloak. Or, perhaps, cloaks would be more appropriate. James had been in earlier and declared him to not be wearing enough layers. Steve had grumbled, but had not thrown them off, and Peggy couldn't help thinking how cozy he looked underneath his pile of wools and furs.
It wasn't much later that James came in. He dropped down into a third chair with a heavy sigh. "Well, one good thing about this weather is if we can't travel in it, the raiders can't either."
"Did you fall in a mud puddle?" Steve asked, looking him up and down.
"No," James said. "It's just that bad out there. What's this?" he asked, looking down at the cup Peggy pressed into his hands.
"Something to ward off the chill," she said.
He frowned as he took a sip of it and Steve chuckled. "Yeah, her magic drinks never taste good. They work well, though."
Peggy shot Steve an annoyed look and James laughed. "Hey, it's warm, so I'll take it. And thank you."
Peggy nodded. "At least one of you has some manners."
"I said it worked, didn't I?" Steve protested.
"Hey, can I run something by you?" James asked.
"Sure," Steve said.
"Should I go?" Peggy wondered. James and Steve often discussed things in front of her, but she knew not everything was for her ears, and she always thought she should offer.
"No," James said. "Actually, I wouldn't mind seeing what you have to say about this too." He didn't seek her advice as often as Steve did, but he'd been doing so more lately as her suggestions that Steve took to the council proved effective.
Peggy nodded and settled back in her chair.
"What's up, Buck?" Steve asked.
James sighed. "It's these raiders we keep having to deal with," he said. "They're…Well, it's awfully late in the winter, for one thing."
Steve and Peggy nodded. Peggy's village had been close enough to the center of the kingdom to seldom be troubled by things like that, but she'd seen and heard of enough of it around. Raiders usually came around the end of the harvest season, once everything had been prepared and stored. Usually by this point in the winter, they'd taken what they wanted or given up on trying to get it, hunkering down against the weather like everyone else.
"They just keep coming, though," James said. "And they—it almost feels strategic, the way they're attacking."
"What do you mean?" Steve asked.
"It's where they keep popping up. I don't want to walk away from the fire yet, but I'll get a map later and show you. They're only hitting the villages that supply food to the castle."
"Is that unusual?" Peggy asked.
"A little," Steve said. "More food, bigger payoff, but also a higher military presence."
"Exactly," James agreed. "I mean, there's always a few that try, so it didn't strike me as odd at first, but since that's all they've hit…" He frowned. "No, wait, that's not true, there is one other village they keep coming back to—Redhaven—and we can't figure out why. It's one of the smaller ones, and I've posted a permanent guard there with as often as they keep hitting it."
"Do they grow something in particular they might want?" Steve asked.
"No," James said. "Corn, same as every village in a fifteen-mile radius from them."
"Redhaven…" Peggy said thoughtfully.
James looked over at her. "Does that mean something to you?"
"Maybe?" she said. "I've heard that name before, but I can't think of where."
"Do they do magic in Redhaven or something?" Steve wondered.
"No," Peggy said. "Keep going and let me think on it. It'll come to me. So, aside from Redhaven, they seem to be targeting the castle itself, in a roundabout sort of way?" she prompted.
"Yeah," James agreed. "And they're…" He frowned. "I fight raiders every year. They're all the same—guys who have been living rough for a while, who have enough weapons to terrorize a village, but not enough skill to put up much of a fight where knights are concerned. They're more of an annoyance than anything else. The guys we've been running into lately are something different. They're stronger, they're more organized, and they seem to fight with actual plans and formations."
"They sound like soldiers," Steve said. "Could it be trouble from another kingdom?"
"I thought of that," James said. "But if it is, they're being awfully secretive about it. No flags or emblems or anything that could identify them. If another kingdom is trying to start a war, this is the strangest way to go about it that I've ever seen."
They discussed the problem a while longer, and Peggy couldn't help thinking James was right—they seemed organized enough to be a military unit, but none of them could work out what they were after.
"It's getting late," James said eventually. "I'm going to go talk to Father, just to see if he knows anything on the diplomatic front that could give us some insight. I'll be back in the morning with some maps and things and we can keep going."
He bid them both goodnight and left the room. "He seems awfully worried," Peggy said, gathering up her cloak for the short trip to her own chambers. She was already thinking longingly of her blankets and the copper bed warmer she knew Angie would have tucked down between them.
"Yeah," Steve agreed. "If there's a war coming, he'd be the one heading it up, and it's hard to prepare when you don't know what's coming." He nodded to himself. "But maybe some sleep will let us come at it with fresh eyes in the morning." He smiled at her. "Have a good night. And stay warm out there, huh?"
She smiled back. "It seems like a terribly long way to go, I've half a mind to stay here." She blushed as she realized what it sounded like she was implying. "I won't, though," she added quickly. "Good night, Steve." She hurried out into the corridor and into her room, practically diving into her nice warm bed. "Angie, you're a saint," she said, snuggling down deeper into her blankets. Steve underneath his pile of cloaks sprang to her mind, and she thought how cozy it would be to wrap up like that with him and join him by the fire, then she felt her cheeks go warm at the thought and she put it out of her mind.
The next morning was chilly as ever, if slightly less rainy. After breakfast, James took over the table in Steve's room with a pile of maps and charts and they got to work again. They'd made little progress by midmorning, other than the realization that Redhaven was in the center of all the activity. Peggy still couldn't remember where she'd heard the name before, but she knew it had been a long time ago. Why was it important?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Steve reaching for a goblet of water he'd put on the table earlier, tipping it over as his fingers knocked against it instead of picking it up.
"Hey, Steve, watch out!" James said, snatching the nearest map up out of the path of the water. "I—" His eyes went wide as he looked up. "Steve, are you okay?"
After knocking the goblet over, Steve had swayed and stumbled back a couple of steps to sit down heavily in the nearest chair. "Um," he said, blinking like he was having trouble bringing his brother into focus. "I…" His head lolled on his neck and he slumped forward onto the table, eyes fluttering shut.
"Steve!" James exclaimed, tossing down the map and jumping up.
Peggy was closer, and she got there first. "Steve?" she asked worriedly, placing a hand under his chin and lifting his head. He didn't respond to her touch, but his skin was far warmer than it should have been. "He's burning up," she said, surprised. Where had that come from?
"What?" James asked, stopping beside her.
"It's a fever," Peggy said. She stepped quickly away from the table, headed for her clinic and her supplies. "Get him up on his bed," she told James. "And get him to drink some water. I'll be right back."
She hurried across the hall, snatched up her case of supplies, then ran back to Steve's room.
James had laid him out on the bed and was holding his head up, holding the water goblet to his lips. He still didn't seem to be awake, but he was drinking the water. Peggy set her case on the bedside table and laid a hand on Steve's chest, running her diagnostic spell.
"What is it?" James asked.
"Nothing," Peggy replied, finding no signs of anything alarming. "It's just a fever."
"But where did it come from?" James asked. "He was fine this morning. Wasn't he?"
"He was," Peggy confirmed. Nothing had seemed amiss when she'd run her daily checks. "But right now I think we should focus on bringing the fever back down." It appeared to be just an ordinary fever, if a very fast one.
"Right," James agreed. "What should I do?"
"For the moment, get out of the way," she said, pulling vial from her case. She uncorked it and lifted Steve's head to help him drink it. "Let's see what that does."
"He has been wheezing some lately," James pointed out after a minute of silence. "Could this be part of the same thing?"
Peggy inclined her head. "It could be. It's just odd that it came up so quick."
"Yeah," James agreed. "Although, there have been a couple of winters in the past where he got sick—" He clicked his fingers. "—just like that."
Peggy nodded. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that Steve would have gotten ill—really, she'd been half-expecting it since the weather got bad. She just would have expected more warning than a bit of a wheeze.
With the medicine administered, she and James set to making Steve comfortable. They got his boots and his belt off, then wrestled his unconscious body into a lighter, looser shirt than the tunic he'd been wearing. They washed the sweat from his face and neck and got him to drink some more water.
A couple of hours passed, and Peggy found it worrying that he was showing no signs of improvement. He was sleeping uneasily, but had yet to regain consciousness. His temperature had not gone down at all. "That's not right," Peggy said. She went on to explain when James arched a questioning eyebrow. "The medicine I gave him wasn't an instant cure or anything, but there should be some signs of it working by now."
"Do you have an instant cure?" James wondered. "Maybe we should try that."
"I can try," Peggy said. "Fevers tend to be temperamental about magic, but there's no harm in it." She sat down on the bed next to Steve, resting a hand on his head. He was still warm, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his skin. "Gecéle," she said, pushing the magic out through her hand and into Steve. She frowned as his body seemed reluctant to accept it, and she pushed a little harder. A shiver ran through his body and he let out a little moan.
"It doesn't look like it worked," James said after a minute.
"It didn't," Peggy replied. If that spell was going to work, he should have woken up. "But as I said, fevers and magic are a temperamental mix. We'll have to do this more slowly. Give him some more water while I mix something up."
James poured out some more water and set to helping Steve drink it. As Peggy measured out some powdered yarrow, she couldn't help noticing it was a bit more work for James to get Steve to take the water than it had been earlier. He was even more reluctant to take the yarrow mixture, but Peggy could hardly blame him for that with the way it tasted.
As a few more hours passed, Steve began to toss, muttering to himself uneasily. They continued to ply him with water and the yarrow mixture, and they had removed his shirt and were taking it in turns to wipe him down with cloths of cool water, but his temperature continued to climb.
"I don't understand it," Peggy said. She'd just run another diagnostic spell, thinking perhaps she'd missed something, but, again, she found nothing. She looked up at James. "You mentioned before that there were previous winters where he'd gotten sick all of a sudden. Tell me more about that. Specifics. Anything you can remember."
James did so and Peggy listened intently, trying to see if there were any links she could find between his past illnesses and this one. None of it sounded right, however. The symptoms were different, or they had traceable causes. Steve may have been prone to getting ill, but this fever was something new.
Later in the afternoon, the king came by, and James went out into the hallway to speak with him. Peggy didn't catch most of what they were saying through the door, but evidently there were things James was meant to be doing, and Steve got sick all the time and wasn't that what they had hired a personal physician for anyway? It turned into a shouting match that culminated with James storming back into the room and slamming the door behind him. Steve jumped at the loud noise, but didn't wake.
"Is everything alright?" Peggy asked after a moment.
"It's fine," James said curtly. His hard expression softened as he looked at Steve, and he crossed the room to sit down beside him. "Don't worry, Stevie, I'm here," he said gently as Steve started to moan again, carding his fingers back through his sweat-slick hair. "I'm not going anywhere."
By the time evening fell, Steve had stopped sweating. James was hopeful at first, but Peggy shook her head. "That would only be good if he was cooling down," she pointed out. His temperature was still climbing, and his body was trying to conserve what moisture it could by keeping him from sweating. He was also starting to fight it when they tried to get him to drink more, making it difficult to replace that moisture.
Something more drastic was needed, so Peggy called for a bath and had it filled with cold water. They stripped Steve down to his undergarments, then James picked him up and climbed into the tub, sitting down with a shiver and tucking Steve against his chest so that he didn't slide under the water. They stayed there until James started to shiver uncontrollably, and Peggy ordered them to get out. "The last thing we need is you getting sick on top of this," she told him when he insisted he could do it longer. "Besides, I don't think it's helping," she said. Both Steve and the water appeared to be warmer than they had started out.
James laid Steve back on the bed and went to change into something dry. Peggy barely needed to dry Steve off, the water was evaporating from his skin so quickly. "What's wrong, Steve?" Peggy asked, closing her eyes and laying her hands on his chest. He let out a small, sad whimper. "Tell me," she said. "I'm listening." She ran the diagnostic spell for what seemed like the hundredth time, shutting out everything but the feel of the magic in her fingertips and the way it changed as it flowed through his body. Nothing. She opened her eyes and drew in an unsteady breath. "Keep fighting this," she told him. "I will help you—I swear I will—but you need to hang on until I figure out how."
Peggy grew increasingly desperate in her spellwork as the night wore on. She knew that fevers were finicky when it came to magic, but something had to work! They even called Erskine down—his magic wasn't what it used to be, but his mind was still sharp—but even he was stymied. Most of the suggestions he made, Peggy had already tried, and the ones she hadn't thought of didn't work when she tried them.
By midnight, Steve was seeing things. His eyes were open, but they were vacant and glassy, following things only he could see around the room while he muttered unintelligible things to himself. Whatever he was seeing appeared to frighten him, and James climbed up onto the bed and pulled Steve into his lap.
"Hey, look at me, Stevie," he said gently, tilting his brother's head back to lean against his shoulder. Even with everything she'd seen between them, Peggy had never heard him speak so tenderly. "Look at me," James said again, patting Steve's cheek carefully.
Steve rolled sad, sick eyes up in the direction of his brother's voice. "'uck'?" he rasped uncertainly.
"Hey," James said, a worried smile on his face. "Hey, Stevie. It's okay, alright? You're gonna be okay."
Steve muttered something that Peggy didn't catch, and she didn't think James did either, but he seemed to understand it.
"Shh," he soothed. "I know." He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Steve's forehead. "But it's okay," he said softly. "It's okay. I've got you. Your brother's got you."
Steve's eyelids fluttered and he nuzzled his head into James's shoulder before passing out again.
James looked up at Peggy, moisture swimming in his eyes. "Please, you have to do something," he begged.
Peggy swallowed down a knot in her throat and nodded, turning back to her medicine chest. Steve wasn't going to last much longer at this rate, and there had to be something left she hadn't tried. She picked up the yarrow again and remembered something she'd learned back in her studies, a potion Erskine had taught them about that was a variation on the plant's normal use. The resulting mixture was so potent it was hardly ever used, but if ever there was a time for that, it was now.
She mixed it up quick as she could, working magic into the brew to give it strength. She poured some out into a glass and brought it to the bed. Steve had been refusing all liquids for nearly two hours now, but James had been having better luck with it than she had. "Get him to drink as much of that as you can," she told him.
"Hey, Stevie," he said, patting his brother's cheek. Steve's eyes flickered open. "Hey, can you drink this for me?" He brought the glass to Steve's lips, and Steve moaned and turned his head away. "Hey, no, no, Stevie, I need you to do this, okay?" He managed to get a bit of the liquid past Steve's lips before Steve moaned again and swatted weakly at the glass.
"Come on, Steve," James coaxed, pulling the glass back out of reach so Steve didn't spill it. Steve whimpered. "I'll even help you, alright? See, look." He brought the glass to his own mouth and took a small drink. "Okay," he said, his face scrunching up. "I can see why you don't want it, because that is disgusting, but I need you to do this for me, okay? We'll do it together." He took another tiny sip, then put the glass back at Steve's mouth. Steve allowed him to pour some of the mixture down his throat, and James smiled. "There you go," he praised. "Good boy. Okay, let's try it again." He took another miniscule sip, then offered the cup to Steve again. Peggy couldn't help smiling as she watched them pass the cup back and forth until Steve had drained the glass.
"That was artfully done," she said when James handed her the empty glass. Steve had fallen asleep again.
James smiled down at his brother fondly. "I haven't had to do that in a while. It used to work pretty well when we were kids and he got sick." He held onto Steve for a few more minutes, then moved away when it seemed like he had settled—he still wasn't cooling down, and didn't need the heat of another body.
Steve came awake enough a bit later to take some more of the medicine, but it didn't appear to be helping as it should have. By this point in the night, Peggy was disappointed but not surprised, and she felt a wave of despair rising up in her chest. She was running out of things to try.
That was when the seizures started.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Peggy wondered that they hadn't begun earlier, as high as his temperature was right now, but now wasn't the time to worry with that. She showed James how to hold on to his ankles and shoulders loosely—holding too tight to someone having a fit could hurt them, but she didn't want him to throw himself off the bed.
The seizure stopped after a couple of minutes and Steve dropped back to the bed, exhausted and breathing hard.
"Peggy, that—" James began, stopping abruptly as Steve started to seize again. He went through three more seizures in rapid succession, with barely enough time to breathe between them before he flopped bonelessly back onto the bed, so still that Peggy had to check to make sure he was still breathing.
"You need to do something," James said sharply.
"I am doing everything I can," Peggy shot back.
"Well, it's not enough!" James replied.
"What do you want me to do?" Peggy demanded.
"Anything!" he replied. "You have magic—use it!"
"I have been!"
"Well, do it again! Spells or potions or whatever! Just do it! Check him again and find out what's wrong with him!"
"There's nothing wrong with him!" Peggy shouted back. "That's the problem! I keep checking and there's nothing…" She trailed off mid-sentence, struck by a sudden realization.
"What?" James asked.
"There's nothing wrong with him," Peggy repeated. "I was checking for magic affecting him and I couldn't find any, but there should have been something. If not magical, then biological at the very least, because he is sick. But there wasn't even that."
"What are you saying?" James asked.
Peggy felt as though her brain had just been struck by lightning. "I think I know what this is," she said, half to herself. She'd been treating this like it was a natural fever because she'd found no signs of magic, but now she realized that if it was natural, she should have seen signs of that. She hadn't seen signs of anything. James opened his mouth and she shushed him, closing her eyes and laying a hand on Steve's chest. She tried a new spell, not the diagnostic one, not now that she knew what she was looking for.
Silence hung heavy over the room for a long minute as she searched, then her eyes snapped open. "I found it," she whispered. She dashed away from the bed in the direction of her case, digging frantically for the tool she knew was in there somewhere.
"What is it?" James asked.
"Magic," she snapped. "Very dark magic." She would take the time later to be frightened over just how dark it was. She found what she was looking for and hurried back to the bed with the small, flat stone in her hand.
"What are you—" James began as she lowered the stone down to rest on Steve's stomach.
"Shut up; I need to concentrate," she snapped, and he was quiet.
Peggy closed her eyes and placed her hands on top of the stone. Now that she knew it was there, she could feel the magic swirling inside of Steve, wreaking havoc on his body. She pushed magic out of her hands and into the stone, and the tendrils of darkness inside of Steve stopped their churning. Slowly, unwillingly, the dark magic started moving again, this time in the direction of the stone in her hands. She could almost imagine the little pieces of it squealing in protest as she drew them to her, but the stone was like a magnet, and they could not escape. When the stone was filled to capacity with all the darkness it could hold, Peggy opened her eyes and lifted it up, holding it a few inches above Steve's stomach. She heard James gasp somewhere behind her as the skin of Steve's stomach stretched up with it, the knot of dark magic she had gathered into a ball poking up from underneath it as it was drawn to the stone.
"What the hell is that?" he whispered.
"Sh," she said. She started moving the stone towards his chest, hovering it a few inches above his skin the whole time. The tangle of dark magic followed, rippling underneath Steve's skin as she pulled it along. She drew the magic slowly up his chest, between his ribs and towards his throat. "Bowl," she snapped at James, nodding back to the table. "Fetch that bowl," she clarified when he looked puzzled.
He jumped up, grabbed the bowl, and hurried back with it.
"Bring his head to the side of the bed and hold the bowl under his mouth," she instructed.
James did so, carefully readjusting Steve until his head was at the edge of the mattress, turning him so that he was facing off the bed. Peggy held tight to the magic to make sure she didn't lose any, then resumed her journey in the direction of his throat. When the knot of magic reached his throat, he started to jerk as if another seizure were forthcoming. "Wait," she told James, who had started to set the bowl down to get up to hold him. "It's not a seizure."
Steve jerked a couple more times, then started to gag as the knot of magic filled his throat and cut off his air. Peggy kept pulling it forward, knowing the only way out was through. She drew the stone along Steve's chin and then held it out in front of his mouth. He gagged again, coughed, and then something black started dribbling from his mouth. James's eyes went wide, but he remembered his task and held the bowl up to catch it. Peggy pulled the stone farther back to avoid getting anything on her hands as Steve heaved and began vomiting up a sticky black substance that looked like tar.
He slumped back down into the bed when he was finished, breathing hard. "Hang on; I need to get the rest of it," Peggy said, forestalling the questions she saw in James's eyes. There had been too much of it for her to get all in one go, so she returned the stone to Steve's stomach and began the process again. There wasn't as much of it this time, not reaching the capacity of what the stone could hold, but she held the stone there longer and checked and checked again until she was absolutely certain that she had it all. Just like before, she pulled the magic up through Steve's body, his skin shifting in angry ripples under the stone as the curse protested its removal. Just like before, he gagged and choked when it reached his throat, then vomited the remainder of it out into the bowl. He kept vomiting until nothing but sticky strings of black bile were coming out. Peggy brought the stone up to his lips, and the last little remaining bits of dark magic clinging to his teeth and tongue snapped forward in the direction of the stone and fell into the bowl.
Steve stilled, and Peggy stepped back, lowering her hand and feeling suddenly exhausted. For a moment, she and James simply stared at the mass of magic in the bowl in his hands. It writhed and twisted as though it were alive, drawing all the little pieces of itself back together until it was in a small, defensive ball that rippled and pulsed.
"Alright, what the hell was that?" James finally asked.
"That," Peggy said grimly. "Was some very dark magic." She took the bowl from James and set it on the table by the fire. The magic ball was pulsing more weakly, losing strength, and the bowl was deep enough, Peggy wasn't worried about it getting away. She wasn't finished with it yet, though.
"Is he okay now?" James asked worriedly, looking back at his brother. Steve's face was red from the strain of vomiting up the dark magic, but the lines that had been there before had eased, and he was breathing more easily.
"He is," Peggy said. She crossed back to the bed and sat down beside Steve, resting a hand on his head. She knew he would be fine now, but she ran a diagnostic spell anyway, just to check. The magic was gone now, and there were all the signs of fever that should have been there earlier, winding down and fading away. "He's even starting to cool down already."
James put a hand up to his brother's cheek, then smiled in relief. His skin was still warm, but no longer burning, returning to its normal temperature rapidly. He looked back up, eyes meeting Peggy's. "Seriously, though, what the hell just happened?"
"I'll tell you, but let's get him dressed again," Peggy said. "With his fever falling like this, he's going to start getting cold soon."
They worked his limbs back into his clothes, though they didn't put him under the blankets yet—not until he had cooled down a little more. "So?" James prompted.
"So," Peggy began. "That was very dark magic. Magic that was designed to hide itself—that's why my diagnostic spells didn't spot it before. And since the fever was being caused by the spell, all the indications of it were being hidden from me too. That's why I couldn't figure out what was wrong." She sighed. In hindsight, the lack of natural indications in the diagnostic should have been a dead giveaway. "I should have worked it out earlier."
"You caught it," James said. "That's what's important." He looked down at Steve, then frowned up at Peggy. "You said it was magic. That means someone did this to him, doesn't it?"
Peggy nodded. "It does. There are some sorts of magic that people can come across by accident, but this…" She shook her head. "This wasn't a naturally occurring spell, or even an innocent magician trying to do something else that got away from them. This was deliberate. And it was cruel," she added. "This spell…Left to the fever on his own, Steve would have succumbed to it in a few days, but this spell was designed so that any attempts to cure it made it stronger. Everything I did to try to bring the fever down…" She stopped to swallow down a knot in her throat. "I was killing him faster."
James's eyes widened in horror.
"This spell was designed to kill him, and it was designed to make him suffer while it happened," Peggy finished.
James stared back down at his brother, taking his hand as though making sure he was really there. "Why?" he asked. "Why would someone do that?"
"I don't know," she said. Peggy had been so focused on the fact that she had nearly killed Steve that she hadn't gotten around to that question yet. "I mean, he is the prince. That happens from time to time, doesn't it? Assassination attempts and such?"
"Yeah, but, but to me," James replied. He was still staring at Steve in horror. "I'm the one who's going to be the king one day. I'm the one in charge of the army, and the treasury, and, and…" He waved a perplexed hand at his sleeping brother. "Steve doesn't…I mean, he isn't…Why would anyone want to kill him?" He looked up at Peggy at last, looking lost and utterly bewildered. In another context, the words might have come off as egotistical, but Peggy understood what he meant. Of the two of them, Steve was by far the less likely target.
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe…With his propensity for getting ill, it would have seemed more natural than if it had happened to you. Or perhaps whoever did this didn't know how to get to you." Steve shifted and sighed, and James leaned in closer, running a hand back over his brother's hair, and Peggy reconsidered. "Or maybe," she said. "Maybe they knew exactly how to get to you."
"What do you mean?" James asked, looking up again, his hand still resting on Steve's hair.
"What would you have done if this had killed him?" she asked.
"I…I don't know, I…" James stammered, clearly not wanting to think about it.
"If it's not overstepping to say so," Peggy ventured. "I think you would have gone to pieces. It's no secret that the two of you are close, and if you'd lost him…"
"I would have fallen apart," James agreed.
Peggy's eyes widened as realization hit her. "The soldiers," she said.
"What soldiers?"
"The raiders—the ones you thought seemed like they were part of an army." Had that really only been yesterday that they had talked about it? "If they really are an army, and there really is a war coming, you would be expected to lead the battle. And if Steve had just died…"
"I would have been a wreck," James finished for her. "There's no way I would have been able to focus on, on strategies, or battle plans, or, or anything. It would be a disaster, I—" He stopped speaking with a growl, jumping to his feet and snatching up the water pitcher beside the table to hurl it against the wall with a splash and a shatter that made Peggy jump. He whirled around as if looking for something else to throw, then drew in a deep breath, calming himself with obvious effort. "Somebody actually had the gall to think that hurting Steve would—" He growled again. "How do we find who did this? Because this is the last mistake they're ever going to make."
Several years ago, Peggy had seen the king in one of the towns at a public sentencing and execution of a magician. There had been hatred and cold fury in his voice and not a speck of mercy, and in this moment, Peggy was suddenly reminded that James was the son of Uther Pendragon. In any other circumstance, that would have worried her, but this time, she was inclined to agree with him.
"There's a spell I can do," she said, nodding at the bowl on the table where the ball of dark magic was still writhing sluggishly. "Magic like that leaves traces. I'll find them." She nodded at Steve. "His temperature is coming back to normal, but he still needs to replenish all the water he lost. See if you can get him to drink some more while I get this set up."
James nodded and moved back to his brother's bedside. He'd broken the pitcher, but there was still water in the glass, and he picked it up as he settled down next to his brother, propping his head up to drink. There was no cajoling needed this time—Steve remained asleep, but his mouth opened as soon as the glass touched his lips and he drank it down eagerly. Peggy had thought earlier that his reluctance to drink any of the water or medicine came from feverish confusion, and it probably did, but now she wondered if part of it had been him attempting to fight off the spell in his own way.
After working and casting magic all day and being up most of the night, Peggy was exhausted. But there was work to be done, and she sat down in front of the bowl of dark magic with determination. She took a deep breath, collecting herself, then set to work. She cast several spells over the bowl, and she could feel them fighting with the dark magic inside it. She kept pushing until she was certain her magic had the upper hand, then stood up. It would take some time for her magic to break through the curse's defenses.
To her surprise, James was standing behind her chair, looking hesitant. "It looked like I shouldn't interrupt you," he said. "I think Steve is starting to get cold, and I wasn't sure if I should cover him up yet or not."
Peggy nodded and crossed the room to check on him. She didn't even need a spell to see that the fever was nearly gone. "We can warm him back up now," she said, reaching for one of the blankets to unfold it. You always had to take care after a fever broke, as the body was vulnerable and liable to catch a chill as its temperature fell rapidly. She unfurled the blanket over him and tucked it around his shoulders. She reached up to brush his hair from his forehead, letting her hand linger there for a moment. "He'll be alright," she said softly, more to herself than to James.
Once they were sure Steve was settled in comfortably, James nodded over at the bowl of magic. "So, what did you find?"
"Nothing yet," she said. "It's a powerful spell that will take mine some time to break through. It will be several hours before we get a result." He nodded wearily, impatient but accepting. "Why don't you get some sleep?" she suggested. "I'll look after him."
"Thanks," James said with a tired smile. "But I think I'll stay here." He sat down on the bed next to Steve and kicked his boots off, then repositioned one of the pillows behind him against the headboard. "I will sleep, though," he said. He shifted down a bit more horizontal and folded his arms across his chest. "You should get some sleep too," he said before shutting his eyes. Steve nuzzled his head into the side of James's leg, and James let one of his hands drift down to rest on his brother's hair.
Peggy watched them for a moment, smiling softly, then she turned and waved a hand at the broken pieces of pitcher on the floor. They reassembled themselves and came to rest on the table again, and Peggy sank back down into the chair by the bed. There wasn't really any need for her to stay here—Steve was no longer in danger, and James was here in case he needed anything. Peggy could have gone back to her own room and collapsed into bed for a few hours, but she stayed where she was.
There wasn't anything she could do to speed along the tracking spell she was doing on the remains of the curse, and with nothing else to think about, she was left to ponder the question James had brought up earlier. Who had done this? And why? Was it someone with a grudge against the royal family? Or perhaps a more sinister purpose, something that tied back to James and a possible upcoming war? In either case, it was someone who had very nearly made Peggy do their job for them. It was clear as day now, the way Steve's temperature had climbed shortly after each attempt to counteract it. And Peggy had just kept going, trying harder and harder and only succeeding in bringing him closer and closer to burning alive. She closed her eyes and forced back the sharp sting of tears. The fact that she had been trying to help didn't do much to assuage the guilt of nearly killing him. "I'm so sorry, Steve," she whispered, reaching up and wrapping her hands around one of his. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the back of his hand, feeling how cool his skin was now, and, if she concentrated, the faint pulsing of his blood through the veins across the back of his hand. She closed her eyes and just breathed, focusing on those signs of life.
She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she was waking up, her head pillowed on the mattress and Steve's hand under her cheek. Steve was blinking at her lethargically, and she sat up quickly. "Hi," he said sleepily.
"Hello," she said, smiling to see him coherent again. "How are you feeling?"
"Um," he began. He blinked and licked his lips, coming a little more awake. "Really tired. Kind of confused. What's happening?"
"Do you feel ill at all?" she asked, leaning forward to place a hand on his forehead to assure herself that his temperature was alright.
He considered for a moment. "No. What's going on?"
"You were sick," she told him. "With a really bad fever."
He frowned. "I don't remember getting sick."
"It came up very quickly," she said. She sighed. "It was magic."
"Magic?"
"Someone cursed you," she said. She sighed and started to explain what had happened. Steve listened intently, frowning as he did so.
"Well," he said when she had finished. "I guess that explains why I woke up with Bucky half on top of me." He cast a sideways look at his brother, who had rolled a bit in the night and was lying on Steve's shoulder. He was snoring quietly and showing no signs of waking any time soon. "He gets kind of clingy when something really bad happens like that," Steve added by way of explanation. "And I guess that explains why I feel so…drained," he added, pausing to search for the word. "I don't feel sick, but…"
Peggy nodded. "The fever was quick, but it took a lot out of you. It…It nearly killed you. You're liable to be tired for some time."
Steve nodded. "Makes sense. Hey, thank you, by the way." He smiled at her. "You saved my life again."
Peggy found she couldn't smile back. "Almost in spite of myself, yes, I suppose I did."
"What do you mean?"
"Steve, I told you how the curse worked. Everything I did only made it worse."
"I guess, but you figured it out in the end," he said, sounding maddeningly unconcerned. "That's the important part." He smiled at her. "Besides, I'm turning out to be pretty hard to kill."
"Don't—" Peggy swallowed down a sudden knot in her throat. "Please don't joke about it."
"Okay," Steve said, serious once more. "I'm sorry." He looked as though he wanted to sit up, but he couldn't with James lying on his shoulder, so he held out a hand to her, looking worried. "What is it?" he asked, squeezing her hand when she took his.
"I just…" Peggy began. "You almost died, Steve. I—" She'd been up all night working and worried and she was exhausted and should probably just stop talking, but she didn't really care right now. "You haven't been just a patient to me in a long time. I couldn't bear it if I lost you."
His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, then he smiled warmly at her. "You didn't," he reminded her. "I'm okay." He squeezed her hand tightly. "And it was you that made sure of that." He drew in a deep breath. "And—"
Whatever else he had been about to say was cut short as James rolled over and his hand flopped over and hit Steve in the eye. Steve grunted, then scowled and swatted James's leg, and James woke up with a start and nearly fell off the bed. Peggy couldn't quite hold back an amused snort. "The future rulers of Camelot, ladies and gentlemen," she chuckled.
Steve laughed at that, and James sat up and blinked owlishly. "What?"
"Never mind," Steve said.
"Steve!" James exclaimed happily. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"
"Tired, but alive," Steve said. He nodded at Peggy. "Peggy told me what happened."
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," Steve insisted. His brow furrowed. "Hey, how did I get cursed, anyway? Was there someone just, like, thinking evil magic at me, or…?"
"Proximity usually matters in magic," Peggy said. "And for that particular spell, you would have had to actually ingest it. It works rather quickly, so I would imagine it was something in your breakfast yesterday."
Steve considered. "I don't remember anything tasting off about it."
"It probably wouldn't have," Peggy said.
"Do we know who did it yet?" James asked.
Peggy got up and checked the bowl over on the table. "It looks about ready," she said. She dug through her case and fished out a small mirror and stand. "Alright," she said. "I'm going to finish the last part of the spell, and then we should get an image of the person who cast it here," she said, propping the mirror up on the stand.
"No, stay in bed, Steve!" James said as Steve threw his blankets back.
"I can't see the mirror from here," Steve complained.
"Just stay here and we'll tell you who it is."
"I'm the one who got cursed, here. I'm going to see who did it to me," Steve insisted. He arched an eyebrow. "If you're worried I'll fall over, you can help me, but I'm going."
Peggy bit her lip and tried not to smile as James grumbled to himself, but got an arm around Steve and helped him walk the short distance to the table. Steve's exhausted muscles were trembling after covering the short distance, but James's grip kept him steady. He settled Steve into a chair, then wrapped a blanket around him. "Okay," James said. He nodded at Peggy. "Let's do it."
Peggy began the spell, and now that her magic had had time to work, it easily broke through the last defenses of the curse. The ball of dark magic wriggled and squelched and dissolved abruptly into a yellowish glow. The glow lifted up out of the bowl and ringed the mirror, settling on the glass and seeping inside. It shifted underneath the glass for several long seconds, coalescing slowly into shapes and colors that became a recognizable figure, and Peggy gasped as it shifted abruptly into focus.
"Is that…Is that Grand Duke Alexander?!" Steve asked after several seconds of stunned silence.
"Sure looks like it," James breathed. He blew out a huff of air and ran a hand back over his hair. "What the hell?"
"I have no idea," Peggy said.
"Are you sure this is right?" James asked. "I mean, I've never really liked the guy, but…"
"It's right," Peggy said.
"He's been Dad's closest advisor longer than I've been alive," Steve said. "And he's been almost as obsessive about hunting down magicians as Dad has. It doesn't make sense."
"There's also the fact that if he wanted to kill you, he's had ample opportunity before now," Peggy pointed out.
"What do we do about this?" James said. "We can't…" He ran a hand back over his hair again. "We've got to do something, but we can't—"
"We can't tell Dad," Steve finished for him.
"He'd never believe it," James agreed. "Especially since our only proof came from magic."
"That certainly does complicate things," Peggy agreed. She frowned down at the picture of the Grand Duke still lingering in the mirror. The few times she'd been in close proximity to him, he'd always made her uneasy, but she'd never thought…
They pondered over the idea for some time, but couldn't see any way forward. "We have to try something," James said at last. "If we just wait, well, who knows what else he'll try?" He drew in a deep breath, as though he was fortifying himself. "I have to tell Dad."
"Buck, he's not gonna—" Steve began.
"What else can I do?" James replied. "I'll leave the magical healing part out of it—I won't let him come after Peggy. I'll just…" He sighed. "I'll tell him he tried to use magic to kill you."
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Steve asked. James might have been the favorite son, but pitting himself so squarely against the king's closest confidante was a massive risk. There was no telling which of them Uther would believe, especially if James had no way to back up his story.
"Yes," James answered sharply. His face softened as he looked back at Steve. "He tried to kill you, Stevie," he said softly, and the exhaustion and the fear and the misery of the whole ordeal shone brightly in his eyes. "I couldn't…" He shook his head, and that dangerous look that reminded Peggy of Uther was back. "It's taking everything I have not to just go after him with my sword right now."
Steve nodded. "Just be careful, okay?"
"I will," James assured him. He rested one hand on Steve's shoulder and squeezed it warmly. Then he turned to Peggy, took one of her hands in both of his, and kissed the back of her fingers. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "Thank you." He squeezed her hand tightly. "And I won't let them know about you. However this goes, I promise I'll keep you safe."
Peggy nodded, squeezed his hand in return, and then he was gone.
Steve shook his head sadly. "I don't know what he's going to do."
"I certainly don't envy him his task," Peggy agreed. "Though I can't argue with his reasoning." She'd never thought of herself as a vengeful person, but her mind was milling over every curse she knew after what he'd just done. She sighed. "Come on," she said, getting a hand under Steve's arm. "You need to get back in bed."
Steve didn't argue, which told her how much the fever had really drained him. He sank into bed and burrowed under his covers against the chill. Peggy gave him an extra dose of the tonic for his heart in case the fever had strained it, and he took it thoughtfully. He clearly had a lot on his mind, but he was just as clearly having trouble staying awake. "I just don't get it," he sighed.
Peggy could only shrug. "I have no idea either." She looked at Steve curiously. "If you don't mind me saying so, you don't seem terribly bothered by the fact that someone just tried to kill you."
Steve gave her a small smile. "No, I am. I guess the confusion is just overriding it right now." He shook his head, pausing to yawn. "I don't understand what reason he would have for trying to kill me. What does he get out of it?"
"You have been making something of a nuisance of yourself on the council as far as he's concerned," Peggy said. "Would he be angry enough about that to try to kill you?" She didn't know him well enough to know if he would be that petty.
"I don't think so," Steve said. "I mean, I've known him for a while, and there's a lot of people who have pissed him off more than I have who are still alive." He yawned again.
"Has he ever gone up against your father?" Peggy wondered. "In anything?"
Steve considered. "I don't think so." Another yawn. "I wouldn't've thought he was the type to make a play for the kingdom. Although, if that was his goal, he went after the wrong son."
Peggy frowned thoughtfully. "It's interesting, James said just the same earlier."
Steve nodded, though his next attempt to speak was lost in another yawn.
"I think you need to go to sleep," Peggy said.
He nodded unhappily. "I think you're right." He looked up at her worriedly. "Wake me up if Bucky looks like he's going to do anything stupid?"
Peggy huffed a laugh. "I will." She stayed where she was, watching as he fell asleep. He was sleeping peacefully this time, and she instinctively reached up and brushed his hair away from his eyes. Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she leaned up and planted a quick kiss on his forehead.
Feeling the need to do something, but sure it wouldn't take long for whatever James was telling Uther to come to a head, Peggy set to tidying up the room. She packed away all her magical things first, then her medicines on top of all that, though she kept anything she might need for a fever near the top, just in case. She threw the remains of the dark spell into the fire where it couldn't hurt anyone, and it went up in a burst of orange light. She picked up the towels and blankets and other bits of detritus that littered the room after a long and fretful night, setting them in a pile in the corner to be taken away and washed.
The doors flung open and James burst into the room. "Is he okay?" he demanded, crossing quickly to Steve's bed.
"Nnh?" Steve mumbled, sitting up sleepily at the banging of the door against the wall.
James grabbed Steve by the shoulders, pulling him closer to get a better look at him. "Are you alright, Stevie?" His eyes shot over to Peggy. "Is he okay? Did anything happen?"
"Nothing happened, no," Peggy said. "Why?"
"Grand Duke Alexander," James said.
"What happened?" Steve wondered.
"He and Dad were in the council room, waiting for some sort of meeting to start. Dad said you must be doing better if I was coming in there, and Alexander had this…look. He was waiting for something, and me saying you were getting better definitely wasn't it." He looked at Peggy. "I don't know if I would have caught it if I hadn't known. Makes me wonder what else he's been hiding all these years."
"What happened then?" Steve asked.
"Well, he said something about how he was glad you were alright, and I just kind of lost it. I started yelling about everything that had happened—still leaving your magic out of it, don't worry," he assured Peggy. "I made it sound like you just did regular medicine and healed him."
"How did you explain the curse and how you knew it was Alexander?" Peggy wondered.
"I didn't, really," James said. "I just said it, and when I was done, Dad was looking at me like I was crazy, but Alexander…" James shook his head. "He just started laughing. Then he said I had done a great job figuring things out, but everything was already in motion and that revealing him wouldn't ruin his plan. Then he looked at me, and he looked at Dad, and he said, 'You're going to lose everything,' and then he did something with his hand and this big puff of smoke came up and he disappeared!"
Peggy blinked in surprise. "That is…Well, it's very dramatic, but that's some very impressive magic."
"I still don't understand why you're worried about me again," Steve said, stifling a yawn.
"Did you not hear what his last words were?" James demanded. He turned to Peggy. "How far away would he have to be before he can't curse Steve again?"
"Leaving in a hurry like that, I don't think he could do anything," Peggy said, tracking James's thought pattern now. "And magic generally requires a degree of proximity, but I'll check." Grand Duke Alexander was proving to be full of surprises, so while Peggy doubted he was cursing Steve from a distance, not making sure would be foolish.
She ran her spells with James looking on worriedly.
"He's fine," Peggy said. "I ran some other spells to check besides the main diagnostic one, after last time," she added. "Whatever the Grand Duke meant, he's not done anything yet."
James nodded, calming down a little. Color rose in his cheeks. "Sorry for waking you up," he told his brother. "You probably needed the rest."
"S'alright," Steve told him. "What happens now?"
"Well, Dad is…kind of exploding right now," James said. "But he's going to have me and the knights hunting him down."
"That's probably wise," Peggy said. "Whatever his plan is, you can't very well leave him alone to complete it."
"Can you do anything?" James asked. "We don't know where he is."
"Most of my experience is in healing," Peggy said. "But I know a few spells. I'll do everything I can."
James nodded. "Thanks. I'll see who I can leave here for running messages—I think we're going to be marching out before the end of the day. You two be careful here, alright?"
"We will," Steve said. "You be careful too, huh, Buck? This guy is…" Steve shook his head. "Please be careful. Make sure you come home." He sounded very young as he finished, and Peggy's heart ached in her chest at the worry in his voice.
"I'm always careful," James said, and he put his arms around his brother's shoulders and drew him into a tight hug. Peggy drifted off to the other side of the room to give them a moment, but she couldn't resist a quick sideways glance in their direction. They had their arms around one another, and James was resting his head on top of Steve's, stroking his hair gently as he whispered something in his ear. Steve nodded against James's chest, and James pressed a soft kiss into Steve's hair. They held on for a few more seconds before separating.
James moved for the door, then paused and took Peggy's hand. "Thank you," he told her again. "I can't ever thank you enough for what you keep doing for him. Take care of him while I'm gone? However you have to."
"I will, Sire," Peggy told him sincerely.
James smiled warmly at her and squeezed her hand. "Call me James."
Peggy smiled and nodded. "I'll take care of him. You be careful too, James."
He squeezed her hand again and left.
Though he was exhausted, Steve fought falling asleep again until they could hear the thundering of horses' hooves on the bridge. Peggy helped him up to the window, and they watched as James and the knights rode out across the bridge. The brilliant red of their capes fluttering behind them in the winter wind stood out in sharp contrast to the snowy grey landscape ahead of them.
"He'll be alright," Peggy said, helping Steve back into bed. "He's always come back in one piece."
Steve nodded. "Yeah. He's never gone up against a magician before, though."
Peggy nodded, tempted to offer some sort of platitude, but biting her tongue. It wouldn't help.
The next few days were long and tense. The castle was abuzz with the news about the Grand Duke, but it was a nervous sort of gossip. Messengers ran to and fro from the field daily, and while their search for the Grand Duke was as yet unsuccessful, it assuaged Steve's worry about James at least. For his part, Steve was healing. The fever was showing no signs of recurring, and his heart and lungs were working as they had been before. He still slept most of the day, however—the fever had been brief but violent, and his strength was slow in returning. Peggy had expected as much, but it still hurt to see it. It didn't help, she thought, that though he was sleeping frequently, he was sleeping badly. He was exhausted but worried, and his rest was uneasy. While he slept, Peggy did the best she could with her magic, but she was unable to trace where the Grand Duke might have gone.
Five days after the hunt had begun, the day's messenger was late in arriving. Tired though he was, Steve was dressed and waiting in the Hall with the king. Moving around the castle some made sure he was getting his exercise, and being in the hub of activity eased his worry a little. Peggy was, of course, close at hand the whole time. They had been there each day a messenger came back, getting the news and hearing what Uther had to say in return. It was possible today that the weather was slowing them down—it was utterly miserable outside, rain and snow and fog thick enough you could barely see the town from the castle windows.
When news did arrive, it was nothing any of them were expecting. Instead of one of the regular runners, the door burst open abruptly as Morita, Dugan, and Jack burst into the room, soaking wet and muddy and looking very much the worse for the wear.
"What's happened?" Uther demanded, standing up from his chair.
The three men came to a stop in front of him, Dugan bending almost double to catch his breath. "Sire," he began. "We…" He waved at Jack to continue, breathing hard.
"Sire, we found the Grand Duke and his men," Jack said. "They ambushed us at the base of the Smoking Mountains."
Peggy saw Steve swallow nervously at the use of the word 'ambush'.
"His men?" Uther said.
"Yes, Sire," Jack replied. "He has an army." He scowled. "The same men we've been fighting for months who've been raiding our villages. They're all riding under his flag."
There was silence for a moment as this sank in.
"Go on," the king commanded.
"We…" Jack paused, steadied his voice, started again. "Sire, the prince was taken."
"What?!" Uther roared. "Taken?!"
"Taken captive, my lord," Morita put in. "I saw him taken away—alive—with my own eyes."
This was evidently meant to help, but it didn't.
"And you're here?" Uther demanded coldly. "Your captain—my son—taken by the enemy, and you turn tail and run home?"
"We sent our best trackers after him, Sire," Dugan said. "Dernier can track a falcon on a cloudy day—if anyone can find the prince, he can. We left him to begin the hunt and several others besides to act as backup and to send any news, but we came back for reinforcements. We need more men."
The king's ire abated as quickly as it had risen. "Summon the rest of the knights," he said, waving at Jack, and Jack bowed and departed. "How large are the Grand Duke's forces? Do we need to call up the reserves?" he asked Dugan. The two of them walked away to the table where the king had been plotting the news from the messengers out on a map. Instead of following, Morita shot a significant look at Steve and Peggy. "Might I request the services of your healer, my lord?" he asked Steve, just a touch too loudly, like he was making sure Uther could hear him. "I don't want this wound to keep me from the search."
Steve looked confused for a moment, then seemed to catch on. "Of course," he said. "We'll see to it at once." They left for the corridor, the king barely giving them a second look as they passed. "What is it?" Steve hissed.
"Not here," Morita said, looking around nervously. "Behind closed doors."
They made their way quickly to Steve's chambers. Morita rushed to the fire as soon as they were inside, and Peggy closed and bolted the doors behind them. She gestured for Steve to take his seat by the fire, and he did absentmindedly, his eyes hanging anxiously on Morita. "What happened?" he demanded.
"We didn't exactly tell the king the whole truth," Morita said.
"James didn't really get taken?" Steve asked. "Or he…he's not—"
"No, no, he's alive," Morita assured him. "It's just…" He opened his mouth, then closed it with a sigh. "I hardly even know where to start. This was—he told me about the Grand Duke's curse on you, and that he had magic, but…"
"What happened?" Steve asked again.
"He did something to James," Morita said. "Something magic. It…Okay, so, what we said about being ambushed was true. The Grand Duke definitely has an army, and it's definitely the raiders we've been fighting all winter. They're wearing his standard now—that creepy snake like he has on his ring—but it's them. I recognized the guy who tried to cut me in half," he said with a scowl.
"Anyway, they attack us, and there are more of them than there are of us, but we're holding our own. Then Alexander shows up, but he just sort of…sat there on his horse watching? Like, we were all expecting him to throw some magic in there and beat us, but he didn't. I was beside your brother, and we started fighting our way over to the Grand Duke, but he just sort of smiled when he saw us coming. When we were close enough for voices to carry, he started talking, and…" He paused and swallowed hard. "I've never seen anything like what happened."
"What was it?" Steve prompted, when Morita seemed unsure how to go on.
"He started saying these words…I don't know what they were," he said, looking at Peggy. "They sounded like the same language you used when you healed me. I didn't know what they were, but he said them slow and loud and deliberate, one at a time. There were ten of them. He'd only said a couple, and James lowered his sword and started shaking his head, like there was something stuck inside it. Alexander kept going, and James grabbed on to the side of his head, like the words were hurting him. As far as I could tell, they weren't doing anything to anybody else, but James was on his knees screaming by the time he was done."
Steve was staring at Morita, open-mouthed and horrified. Peggy felt a sick knot twisting in her stomach.
"Then he said the last word and…" Morita shrugged helplessly. "James stopped screaming, and he got to his feet and just stared at the Grand Duke and…I don't think I'll ever be able to say what it was I saw in James's eyes, but I've never seen anything so wrong. And the Grand Duke smiled and looked at James and said, 'Soldier?' And James…" Morita stopped and swallowed. "He bowed, and said, 'Ready to comply'. Then Alexander nodded like this—" Morita twitched his head in a 'let's go' motion. "And James just, just walked right after him. I tried to stop him," he said, turning to Steve apologetically. "But it was like he couldn't hear me. Then when I grabbed him, he hit me, and I…" He gestured at his head. "I blacked out for a minute. They were gone by the time I woke up."
Oh, snap. I guess that's not the end either. Tune in next week for some Medieval Winter Soldier and that declaration of love we've all been waiting for!
