A/N: A little shorter than usual, but it's Friday as I'm posting this so at least there's that. We're about halfway through now, so there's still plenty to go. (and just a bit over a month until we come back from hiatus!)

Enjoy!

Fitz didn't see Jemma for days. He knew he would have at least run into her or seen her from a distance somewhere if she was merely avoiding him, so Fitz was left with the conclusion that she hadn't left her family's chambers since she had confessed her love for Fitz.

Fitz knew he had done the right thing in letting her go, but that didn't stop him from replaying her words over and over in his head. He was haunted by the pain in her eyes as he left the lab. In all their years together, he'd seen Jemma teased and insulted by others at the palace, he'd even hurt her himself more times than he'd like to remember, but never in his life had he seen Jemma as upset as she had been standing there as Fitz passed by her. Her face, the single tear – it was all he could think about. And it was making him miserable.

Some days he wandered the palace, but more and more often he took to haunting his father's study where his mother was holed up trying to organize resources and debating about calling for aid, trading correspondence with the king as fast as was physically possible from the village across the kingdom where the cavalry was currently stationed. Fitz, with his decision to let Jemma move on, knew that this was going to be the rest of his life – ruling the kingdom, fighting Maveth – so he resigned himself to his fate.

The queen would occasionally raise her eyebrows at Fitz's entrance into the study, clearly thinking his behavior rather odd, but that curiosity was quickly discarded in favor of enlisting Fitz's help and advice.

"Maveth took the village church," his mother said one morning by way of greeting.

"The whole thing?" Fitz replied incredulously as he stepped through the doorway, sitting down across from her.

The queen nodded. "It's all gone."

Fitz ran a hand through his hair. "What can we do?"

His mother sighed. "Call for aid, maybe? Your father's still not sure."

Fitz understood why. The obvious ally to send for would be King Grant, but the king and queen, and Fitz for that matter, weren't completely sure he would be the most steadfast of friends. Fitz could easily see a promise of troops from Grant going unfulfilled, though the prospect of Daisy coming to stay was not the least bit displeasing. Except that she'd ask about Jemma, and Fitz didn't want to have to talk about why he was keeping Jemma as far away from him as possible. Daisy wouldn't accept the excuse that it was for Jemma's protection, that Jemma didn't need to be involved with Fitz. So what if it was true love? Jemma would be better off finding someone else who wasn't cursed, someone who didn't hurt her at every turn. Someone who wasn't him.

So they didn't write to Grant, at least for the time being. But that was just one of many things they had to deal with, and the queen was still concerned about Fitz himself.

"How are you holding up with everything, Fitz?" the queen asked one afternoon as they gave themselves a brief break from pouring over maps and lists of natural resources. "I know this whole thing is worse for you than anyone."

Fitz offered his mother a half smile. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"And what about Jemma?" the queen continued. "I haven't seen her around in quite some time."

Fitz instantly pretended to be absorbed in merchant supply report he had in front of him, merely shrugging in response.

The queen didn't believe him, of course, but she apparently understood, not pressing him any further.

After that incident, Fitz had spent more time alone, often hanging around the section of the palace that led to the quarters of the rest of the court. He had a prepared, and not entirely untrue, excuse that he was looking for Bobbi (who he really wouldn't have minded seeing) in case he ever met anyone, but he never did. This was both a relief, in that he didn't have to clumsily explain himself, and a source of dismay, since his real reason for being in this part of the castle was to search for any sign of Jemma. He knew it was stupid to torture himself like this, going out of his way for just the possibility that he might be able to so much as see her, but he missed her more than anything. He kept finding himself almost knocking on her door to beg Lady Simmons to let him in to see Jemma, but then he would remember his actual predicament and move away, his eyes always fixed in the direction of the door that let to Jemma.

Eventually it got so bad that Fitz didn't even bother with the pretense of searching for Bobbi, choosing instead to lean against the wall just around the corner from the object of his attention, knowing that he shouldn't even be there, but staying nonetheless, needing to know that Jemma was okay.

"Fitz."

Fitz jumped, startled by the voice since he hadn't seen anyone in this corridor since he had started keeping vigil here days ago. He turned quickly and found Dame Isobel staring at him, her eyebrows raised.

"Looking for someone, are we?" she asked, clearly knowing exactly what was going on.

"Bobbi," Fitz replied instantly, though he knew that he stood less of a chance of Dame Isobel believing that than anyone else.

Dame Isobel blinked at him. "Bobbi? Really?"

Fitz nodded, now hesitating slightly.

"Funny," Dame Isobel said, moving closer to Fitz, "from the fact that you've been standing in that same spot staring at the door to the Simmons' quarters for at least ten minutes now, I would have guessed you're looking for Jemma."

Fitz stared down at his feet.

He heard Dame Isobel sigh. "Come with me, Fitz. We need to talk."

Fitz found no other option but to follow her.

Dame Isobel led him back to her parlor. The last time he had been there, not too long after the full cavalry had left, before all the business with the monolith, felt like a lifetime ago. Suddenly he remembered Dame Isobel's connection to the evil sorcerer. He was the reason that her son, Fitz's namesake, was dead.

"I'm so sorry, Dame Isobel," Fitz said as the older woman took a seat on the chaise.

She gave him a look of genuine confusion. "Sorry for what, Fitz?"

"For Maveth," Fitz replied, sinking into the ottoman. "For bringing him back. You of all people don't deserve that. He's caused enough tragedy already."

"Oh, Fitz." Dame Isobel quickly switched seats to be next to Fitz, taking the spot on the ottoman where Jemma usually sat. "It wasn't your fault. He was going to come back eventually. I'm rather glad he's back in the open. At least we know where he is now."

"Killing people," Fitz replied, "that's where he is."

"And soon your father and the cavalry or someone will stop him," Dame Isobel reassured him, sounding far more confident than Fitz was.

"But what if they can't?" Fitz said, his head in his hands. "He could destroy the entire kingdom. And I'd never…" He trailed off, his thoughts with Jemma.

After a moment Dame Isobel spoke. "Can I tell you about the night that Maveth killed my Eoin?"

Fitz looked up, unsure as to why Dame Isobel wanted to talk about this. He nodded hesitantly.

Dame Isobel gave him a small smile and began. "All my other children had spread far and wide across the kingdom, but Eoin had brought his bride back to the castle to be part of the king's cavalry and live at the castle. Margaret was wonderful. She and Eoin were young, but they were perfect for each other. Unflinchingly loyal and just a bit reckless. Hotheaded and incredibly passionate. Always arguing and shouting, but they loved it, and prayers to anyone who angered either one of them because they'd face the combined wrath of the pair together."

Fitz frowned slightly. This account of Lady Mackenzie was very different from the almost second mother he had grown up with. She and Mack had always been level-headed, kind, steady, and dependable, but his Lady Margaret Mackenzie was nothing like the Lady Margaret Fitz Dame Isobel was describing.

Dame Isobel offered him a small smile, clearly understanding his confusion.

"After we lost Eoin, Margaret… Margaret had a lot of trouble getting through it. She thought more and laughed less. She grew cautious and worried and rarely spoke. If it hadn't been for Mack, I don't know if she would have come back to us." She trailed off but then shook her head, redirecting her thoughts. "In any case, Margaret and Eoin had been married about six months when the king and queen had a beautiful baby boy, and all of us in the palace were invited to the christening. It was a fairly small affair – the queen didn't want a big fuss – but Eoin, Margaret, and I were there, along with Margaret's sister Agnes and her husband John Simmons, Eoin's best friend. Agnes had a baby herself not two weeks later."

Fitz smiled automatically at the thought of baby Jemma.

"And the event was going along very well," Dame Isobel continued. "I had never seen the king and queen so happy. But just before the king could announce the name of his child, a vortex filled with sand and debris appeared in the middle of the hall. I suppose I don't have to tell you what that looks like."

Fitz shook his head, easily recalling the image of Maveth in the woods.

"And everyone was terrified. You were across the room from your parents, and Maveth was between you. Your parents begged; they had no idea what to do. Many of us had heard stories of the sorcerer, including the king, but no one had seen him before. After Maveth taunted your parents, he turned back to you, and that's when my Eoin did what he always did. He stood in front of Maveth, his sword outstretched and shaking in his arms since he wasn't quite the practiced swordsman the rest of the knights were. Margaret called out to him, but he refused to step back. He was reckless and foolhardy and inexperienced, but so brave. Lance always reminded me a bit of him when he was younger, getting himself into difficult situations, not quite able to keep up with the others, but the biggest heart in the world. Of course Lance is more than a proper knight now, which makes me wonder what would have happened to my Eoin if he'd been able to…" She trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes.

She shook her head slightly and resumed the story. "So my Eoin faced down Maveth, and Maveth laughed at him and then turned back to you, and Eoin… Eoin charged at him, but Maveth was ready and he pulled him into his vortex and when the dust settled and the wind died down, Eoin was gone. I knew then he wasn't coming back, but it took a few moments for Margaret to understand. She… I've never seen someone so broken, so desolate. She loved him just as much as I did. And as she was crying, Maveth gave you his curse. But he made a mistake."

Fitz looked up at Dame Isobel. "What do you mean? What mistake?"

Dame Isobel smiled softly. "He used true love without understanding the consequences. There's a reason true love always breaks curses and doesn't cause them. It's a force of good, not evil. When I was a girl, my grandmother told me a story of an evil sorcerer who had cursed a young girl that as soon as she said a particular word, she would never be able to speak again. This girl grew up and one day accidentally said this word and instantly became mute. But a boy who had loved her all her life, one day kissed her, and suddenly she could speak again. That sorcerer was, as my grandmother told it, a faceless figure always accompanied by wind."

"Maveth," Fitz breathed.

Dame Isobel nodded. "I believe this is why he tried to work around this obstacle by having true love be your curse. But he was incredibly stupid. True love may be corrupted by evil, but if the love is strong enough, it can make it through anything, even this."

"Is that story true?" Fitz asked. "Did you tell my father?"

Dame Isobel sighed. "I've always thought so, but your father found no real evidence. He's always been skeptical, and it could be just a story, but I've seen true love many times in my life, and I believe that no curse can control it or stop it. A curse is no match for true love."

"But you can't be sure," Fitz countered. "There's no way to know if things will be okay!"

"No there isn't," the older woman replied. "But that's no reason not to try. Think of my Eoin. I'd never seen him happier than those months he had with Margaret. Neither one of them would have traded them for the world."

"But look what happened after Maveth destroyed everything! I can't hurt her like that!" Fitz threw his head in his hands.

"And who says you aren't hurting her by pushing her away?" Dame Isobel said softly. "Who says this is for the best for either one of you?"

Fitz didn't look up.

"I've known you for your entire life, Fitz," she said, her voice soft, "and I've known Jemma for her entire life too. Neither one of you will ever be happy without the other. You made sure that Jemma stayed with you when the king hired your first governess, you refused to take lessons without her, you went to work with her in the infirmary, you learn together, study together, train together; you've barely left her side in years, and yet you both still act as though every time you see each other it's like you're seeing the sunlight for the first time. It's obvious that this is mean to be. It's been obvious for a long time. She means more to you than anything in this world, Fitz, and you mean the same to her."

"But I can't." Fitz finally looked up. "It's not fair to her. And I can't tell her about the curse. She doesn't need to worry about that. It's my burden."

"Oh, Fitz," Dame Isobel replied, almost rolling her eyes. "I think what's unfair to Jemma is that she has to go on thinking that you don't feel the same way she does because you left her crying in the lab."

Fitz's eyes went wide. "She told you?"

Dame Isobel nodded. "She talked, I listened. I didn't want to speak for you, not that Jemma would have believed me even if I did. Which is why you need to talk to her yourself. Don't be afraid of this. Don't let the curse destroy your chance at a happily ever after."

"But it's not safe for-"

"I think Jemma can decide what she's comfortable with for herself, Fitz," Dame Isobel interrupted him. "This is Jemma's fate as much as yours; let her make the choice; don't decide for her."

"Even if I wanted to, I haven't seen her in days," Fitz said, quickly making an excuse. "She hasn't left her room."

Dame Isobel stared at him. "That's easily remediable." She sighed. "Think things over. This is important, Fitz."

Fitz sighed. "I know."

And Fitz did think about it. He left Dame Isobel's parlor and paced through the castle halls, his thoughts wandering to all the mornings of lessons and training he had spent with Jemma, each one doing better for having the other there, the afternoons in the lab where even the silence felt like home, the evenings in someone or other's parlor where they would share a seat for easier conversation, the late-night walks back from the observatory, laughing and pointing up at the stars. Jemma was part of every aspect of his life, and the idea that he would have to give that up was horrible. Of course he wanted to protect her, but perhaps Dame Isobel was right – maybe they could figure it out themselves, maybe it was worth the risk, maybe he should let Jemma decide for herself.

As Fitz came around a corner, he saw the door to the lab close softly, as though the person shutting it was trying to stay hidden.

Fitz knew instantly it had to be Jemma.

Here was his decision: he could go down and talk to her and tell her everything, or he could keep walking and let her go. The latter option was safer for both parties involved, but with the thought that Jemma might be down in the lab crying, Fitz instantly made his choice, following his best friend down into the basement.

Jemma's back was to him when he reached the lab. Her shoulders were tensed, clearly knowing that he was there.

"Jemma," Fitz said softly.

She turned around, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes.

Fitz knew he had made the right decision. He was never going to make her feel like this again.

"Fitz, it's fine," Jemma started speaking before Fitz could say anything. "I understand that you don't feel the same. I mean, I'm not royalty or even higher tier nobility, so really you have every reason not to like me like that. I'm sorry I even brought it up; it was stupid. Can we please just try to be friends again, Fitz? Because I-"

"Jemma, I'm cursed," Fitz blurted out, needing Jemma to stop her horribly inaccurate and honestly rather painful train of thought.

Jemma blinked at him, clearly not expecting that response. "That seems a tad dramatic, Fitz," she said, sounding more like herself than she had before. "This situation isn't ideal, I admit, but-"

"No, I mean an evil sorcerer cast a spell on me when I was a baby," Fitz interrupted again, speaking quickly. "I'm actually cursed."

The lab was silent.

"Oh."

Fitz sighed, feeling relieved for having gotten that off his chest. "Yeah. My father asked me to keep it a secret, but if telling you is what it takes to make this okay, then I'll do it."

Jemma took a hesitant step toward him. "You're actually cursed?"

Fitz offered her a half smile. "Yeah. You met Maveth in the woods the other night."

Jemma's eyes widened in realization. "No."

Fitz nodded. "Yeah. That's him. His name means 'death by punishment;' that's what he does. He can sort of see the future, and apparently I was to be his 'salvation' and his 'destruction.' Or that's what he said when he came to my christening and killed Dame Isobel's son, Lady Mackenzie's first husband."

"Eoin Fitz," Jemma filled in, knowing the reason behind Fitz's name as well as he did.

Fitz nodded. "Eoin Fitz. I did the salvation bit when I opened the monolith, so here's where the curse comes in. After he killed Eoin, Maveth said I would be brilliant and successful, but at true love's kiss, everyone will forget me and my true love will instantly despise me." Fitz took a deep breath, preparing himself for his confession. "So that's why I said I can't be with you. It would ruin everything."

Jemma stared at him for a moment, a blush creeping up into her cheeks. "Because I'm your… true love?" Her words were shy.

Fitz shrugged, a matching shy smile appearing on his face. "Who else would it be?"

Jemma and Fitz smiled at each other, both unconsciously moving together.

"So how do we get rid of this curse then?" Jemma said finally, the steely determination in her eyes the same one that came with every new project the pair tackled together.

Fitz's smile fell. "We have to kill Maveth, and he's more powerful than ever." He turned his gaze to the floor. "He's been terrorizing villagers out in the far reaches of the kingdom; that's where the cavalry is. That's what they've been doing all these years, searching for information on Maveth, on how to kill him, and they've never found anything about how to destroy him in all their years of searching." Fitz sighed. "It's hopeless, Jemma."

"Nonsense."

Fitz looked up and was faced with a very smug looking Jemma.

"You know why?" she asked, smiling wider.

"Why?"

"Because your father has never had the two of us working on this, has he?" she said, moving closer.

Fitz closed the last of the distance between them. "No, he hasn't."

"And we have a much larger incentive to figure this out than the cavalry, don't we?" she continued, almost smirking.

"Yeah, we do." Fitz had never loved Jemma more than he did in this moment.

She wrapped her arms around him, and Fitz eagerly returned the hug.

"I love you," Fitz said softly. "I didn't say that before."

He felt Jemma smile into his neck. "I love you too. We'll figure this out, Fitz. I know we will."

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair.

"You have no idea how hard it is not to kiss you right now," Jemma said after a moment.

Fitz laughed. "And now you know how I've felt for all these months."

"Months?" Jemma moved back to see his face, her eyes bright.

"Since the ball," Fitz replied sheepishly.

A wide grin spread across Jemma's face. "And I thought you hated balls."

"Well I do," Fitz defended himself, "but parts of this last one were… enjoyable."

Jemma raised her eyebrows. "Enjoyable?"

"Or more than that."

Jemma smiled and leaned her head back on Fitz's shoulder.

Fitz held her closer and couldn't help but think, just for a moment, that maybe Dame Isobel was right about true love being stronger than the curse.

Thanks so much for reading!

New chapters posted every Friday.