Archive of Our Own ^beta

A knock at the door would have startled Sir Leon from his sleep had he been sleeping, but no. Instead, he’d been a child for most of the night, clutching at his bruised and throbbing arm as he’d hidden in castle alcoves from a King in a raven-black cape who bellowed his name as he stormed through the corridors, slamming doors as he went. Hiding only made it worse, Leon had come to learn that.

It only delayed the inevitable.

Now, he sat on a chair in front of his unlit fireplace. He couldn’t bear to stay in bed any longer, lest the nightmares come back. He almost laughed at the irony of the situation: Two weeks ago, he’d been unable to leave his bed. Today, he was unable to stay in it.

“Come in, George." Leon’s voice was more hoarse than he’d have liked, but he supposed the panicked gasping and choking back sobs had wrecked his throat somewhat.

George gave Leon a funny look as soon as he entered, though he didn’t speak until the door was closed behind him.

“Another nightmare?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Leon was grateful that George had finally gotten the message about not using his title when it was just the two of them. It had taken a while for him to be comfortable with that, Leon knew.

George moved to fetch Leon some clothes from the far side of the room.

“It is only obvious to me because I know how to look for changes in character. Your voice is softer yet hoarse, which was the immediate red flag. Your eyes are puffy, your posture has slipped, and you’ve tossed Sir Tedward from the bed again.” George indicated to where Sir Tedward was laying face down on the floor.

Leon almost questioned how George knew to look for those things, but given the servant situation that he’d brought up during the last round table meeting, and the fact it had been two weeks since hiring George, he supposed the servant had had enough time to pick up on his habits and routines.

“I do wish you’d use him for his purpose, Leon.” George sighed as he moved to the changing area with a pile of casual-wear clothes. He hung them over the screen, ready for Leon when he was ready. He then crossed the room and picked up the discarded bear. He gently fluffed Sir Tedward’s fur before striding over to Leon, sitting the bear on the table in front of the Knight, should he decide to accept comfort at any point. “Do you require or wish for the fire to be lit?”

“That would be nice, thank you, George.” Leon nodded with a small smile.

“Of course.” The servant nodded and turned to the fire. He picked up the flint and steel that sat on the mantle before turning to Leon. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“The nightmare. Sometimes talking about it can help you to let go of some of the emotions that comes with it.”

“I just… It wasn’t-” Leon sighed. “It was just a memory I wish to no longer hold onto.”

“I’m listening. However, I am busy working so it may appear like I’m not.”

Leon watched George turn back to the fireplace to light it. The First Knight didn’t know what he’d done to deserve George, but he appreciated the manservant none-the-less. He always seemed to know what Leon needed.

“It was a very old memory… I was hiding from my Father.” Leon whispered. George, true to his word, looked as though he wasn’t listening, but Leon knew better from the way George had waited for him to stop talking before striking the flint with the steel.

Once a fire was formed, Leon continued.

“I’d been practicing my horse riding with Gwen’s Mother. I was unbalanced and afraid of the horse, so Father had insisted that I practise more, so I did. The horse threw me and ran from the courtyard. I broke my arm when I fell so I couldn’t chase after her, and Gwen’s Mother was too busy fussing over me to go after her. She tried to take me to the physician, so I ran from her and I hid in the alcoves of the castle halls. I knew my Father would be furious that I’d lost a horse and injured myself… It didn’t take long for him to find me…”

George was very still at this point, having finished stoking the fire. He didn’t move in fear of interrupting the atmosphere. Leon knew he was still listening, yet he didn’t push. He was grateful for that.

“I got lashes for hiding, which was standard, and extra as Gwen’s Mother had interrupted one of Father’s meetings to inform him that I’d gone missing. Father denied me any recovery period. I was to fight through the pain like a true Knight, though I passed out from the pain during the first session. He’d made me hold a shield with my broken arm and used it for target practice until he was sure I’d learned not to give in to weakness.”

George didn’t move.

“That’s… that.” Leon whispered.

“Do you wish me to comment?” George asked, his voice thick. Leon shrugged, before remembering that George couldn’t see him.

“If you wish to.”

“How old were you?”

“My brother had just celebrated his tenth birthday, so I would have been around seven or eight.”

“Seven or eight…” George whispered as he stood and turned to face Leon. The Firth Knight struggled to read the expression on George’s face. It wasn’t one he’d seen before. “That’s appalling.”

“I know.” Leon ducked his head in shame.

“No. Not- Not you.” George was quick to clarify. “Not you, not the child who should never have had those pressures forced upon him. He should never have had to fear his life so early on.”

“I was a stupid child, I should have-“

“Pardon the interruption,” George moved closer. “But before you say anything more, just… Picture him in front of you.”

“What?”

“Seven year old Leon who was trying his best. Picture him in front of you; his arm broken, scared, punished and trying to stay strong through pain no child should ever know. Picture him, and look at him.” 

George’s description made it all too easy for Leon to picture his younger self before him, clutching his broken arm to his chest protectively and failing to stand straight due to the pain from the lashes on his back. His curly dirty-blonde hair fell over tear-filled eyes as he awaited Leon’s harsh criticism with a look that pleaded with him to see just how hard he was trying.

“Go on. Now you can belittle him.”

“I was-“

“Not you. Him.”

“He…” Leon faltered. He was a child… He couldn’t- “He was… He should have- He just-“ As he felt his own lip quiver, the child’s did too. Leon’s heart broke at the thought of causing the child more pain, more rejection… His eyes burned as he tried to justify Bor’s actions, but he couldn’t… not towards the child.

He was just a child .

“He-” Leon choked, his composure breaking as he bowed his head and hid his face behind his hands. His entire frame shook as he fought back the tears. 

George placed a hand on Leon’s back, like he’d witnessed Gwaine do when Leon needed grounding, then gently, slowly, moved to his shoulders and pulled him with such little force that Leon could have easily broken free. He didn’t, however, and instead allowed George to manoeuvre him. 

George uncharacteristically sat himself on the arm of Leon’s chair, and gently pulled Leon closer until the First Knight rested his head on his chest. The Servant knew Percival did this when Leon wanted to hide. Leon trembled against him, one hand coming up to cling at George’s tunic as though afraid he’d leave.

“What would you say to him if he were really here?” George whispered, running his hand through Leon’s curls in the way he’d seen Lancelot do one time to calm Leon from a panic attack. 

“He was never going to be enough for Father.”

“…Can he be enough for you?”

“I…” Leon shifted his head slightly, turning back to where he’d envisioned the child. He was still there, waiting for approval, just as he’d spent every day of his childhood doing. Leon breathed shakily, his words stuck in his throat.

“If he were your child, would he be enough for you?”

“Yes…” Leon whispered, splitting through the tension in the air like a sword through silk. The child’s eyes lit up, a small smile daring to form. Leon couldn’t help the smile he felt himself returning, the two of them choking back a laugh. “He tried so hard…”

“Your Father had standards no child could reach, Leon, and that wasn’t your fault.” George whispered. “Don’t take it out on the boy.”

“It wasn’t his fault…” Leon sniffled, watching the child positively beam with the pride he suddenly felt. “He tried his best.”

“And he still is. I know this won’t stick, that you’ll blame yourself again, and you’ll believe you were never good enough, but think about the boy more, won’t you? Let him be proud of who he’s become. Be proud of him for getting you this far.”

“I will, George, thank you…” Leon pulled away, feeling a little lighter than he had that morning. George smiled encouragingly at him.

“You’re making excellent progress, Leon. I will go and get your breakfast while you dress. Shall I inform Arthur that you shall be training with me today?”

Another thing Leon loved about George was that he never offered him things he knew Leon wouldn’t take, including days off or forgoing training. Instead, he’d offer something more realistic. 

“Please. I… I think that’d be best.”

“Excellent, Sir. I will be back shortly. Will there be anything else?”

“Knock on Gwaine’s door as you pass it?” Leon smirked. George rolled his eyes.

“The only reason I indulge in this is because you never had a childhood, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Leon smiled, watching as George left the room. Exchanging a look with the ghost of his younger self, the two of them rushed to the door, pushing their ears to it. As promised, three loud knocks echoed down the hall, followed by fleeing footsteps. A moment passed, then a door flew open.

“Whoever keeps doing that, it isn’t funny!” 

Leon chuckled to himself, his younger self now gone, and moved to get changed for the day.

When George returned with a tray of food filled with Leon’s favourites, Leon was wearing the casual heather shirt and brown breeches he’d picked out, and was sitting at his desk, looking over some papers through a pair of spectacles. George set the tray down skilfully before trying to arrange some of the food to look more presentable. Leon chuckled.

“George, you know I don’t care about that. Sit and eat.”

“I suppose you’ll only order me to, again, if I remind you that I shouldn’t?”

“You suppose correctly. You yourself told me breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Please, help yourself. I’ll join you in a moment.”

“Working already?”

“It’s important work. Highest priority.” Leon told him. “Arthur is going to address all servants today and ask for anyone with a story to step forward. The more evidence we have to support a need to implement a law for the safety of servants, the more likely we are to have everyone rule in favour.”

“You… You really brought it up at the Round Table?” George asked, still standing, having not touched anything.

“Of course. I said I would.” Leon smiled before removing his spectacles. He put the pile of papers down and rest a round metal paper-weight on them. George did a double take as Leon approached the table.

“Sir Leon, you cannot use your sigil as a paper-weight!”

“Why not?” Leon asked, frowning at it. “It’s not doing anything else.”

“Leon!”

“Alright.” Leon turned back to the desk and picked up the sigil before replacing it with a nearby chalice. He brought it with him to the table and placed it in front of George. “Since you're so fond of it.” Leon smirked. George picked it up and studied it carefully as Leon started to help himself to some breakfast. “George, please have some breakfast now.”

“May I ask why you have a sigil?” George asked. He brushed a finger over the engraving around the ring, which was in a language George didn’t recognise. The raven in the centre was made up of Celtic knots and swirls that made it look elegant despite the obvious age of the thing. The only oddity about it was the fact the raven had three legs.

“It’s the curse sigil from my Father’s side. It was the only thing he ever really gave me.”

“Curse sigil?” George frowned. Leon indicated the food. 

“George, breakfast.”

“I’m just confused as to why you’d have a sigil-“

“George.”

“-since you’re the second born-“

“George, please!” Leon snapped. George faltered and put the sigil down.

“I apologise, Sir.”

Leon sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before continuing.

“No. I’m sorry, George, you’ve done nothing wrong.” The First Knight reached over and gripped George’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I have no excuse. I… did the same to Percival a while back when he was trying to help me. I fear I have my Father’s temper…”

“I highly doubt that. You’ve not threatened to whip me.” George joked, but the look on Leon’s face told him it had done more harm than good. “Forgive me, Sir Leon… I won’t push any further than I have already done.” George whispered, putting the sigil to the side. Leon sighed again.

“No, it’s fine, George. Honestly, it’s just a silly story that has been passed through my family for generations and weighted heavily upon them. It’s all nonsense. If you wish to know, I will tell you.”

“I would like to understand… if you’re willing. It seems as though it may weigh heavily on you too. I shall not force you, though.”

“I will tell you, if you eat.”

George didn’t say anything more, didn’t try to encourage or discourage, he just reached across the table and took a piece of fruit. Leon sighed, taking the sigil in his hands.

“It is said that long, long ago, two of my ancestors, brothers, were approached by an old lady with her pet Raven. She asked of them both a favour long forgotten. The first born, raised to fight and claim the throne, did as she asked, but the second born was afraid and selfish, and refused to help. In a fit of rage, the old woman revealed herself as a sorcerer and cursed the second born, giving him the sigil. It is said that the curse affects all second borns in the bloodline… Apparently, anyway.”

“You were second to your brother.” George stated. Leon nodded.

“I was an accident. All second borns since the curse were accidents. My Father included. His brother, King Ban, was first born. Nobody in the bloodline wanted to have a second born, but they were born anyway… Part of the Sorcerer's curse, I suppose. So when I was born, my Father was enraged and blamed my Mother. He claimed she had been unfaithful, but since he believed so deeply that I was cursed, I knew he knew she hadn’t been. I was his second born and he knew it.”

“Did your Mother believe in the curse?” George asked. Leon shook his head.

“I don’t know. We hosted a banquet when I was young, before I was seven. I… I remember she smiled at me; she knew banquets made me nervous, and sat next to me. There were so many people there… She’d smiled, and I smiled back, and the next second she was coughing up blood. I was old enough to recognise the effects of poison. Everyone was screaming, I tried to get to her but the servants were trying to take me elsewhere… I never saw her again after that…” Leon trailed off, his throat tight. George reached over, placing his hand over Leon’s in a way he’d seen Merlin do when Leon was losing himself to his own mind.

“I’m sorry… That seems like a lot to grow up with…”

“I don’t really know what else to say now…” Leon confessed. “It’s a stupid story that determined how my life would play out. It made certain that I would be unloved the moment I was born.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” George whispered. “Your Mother loved you, and from what you told me about Gwen’s Mother, I believe she loved you too. And what about now? King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table all look up to you, and I dare say they love you as well.”

“What’re you saying?”

“Well, it seems to me that your Father was the one cursed with an inability to love his own Son. Without the curse, without his blindness to the gift he was given, I can only assume he’d be proud of you. I do not believe you were cursed to be unloved.”

“Thank you, George…” Leon whispered. George recognised the thanks. It wasn’t genuine. Instead, it was Leon’s way of saying he didn’t know how to continue, nor did he want to, and was a warning to drop the conversation. George did so.

“Merlin dropped one of Chef’s pies this morning.” George quickly changed the topic. Leon snorted.

“Oh, dear. I doubt she was too happy with him.”

“Not at all. He was still cleaning it up when I left the kitchen.”

Leon chuckled, and the two of them fell into a comfortable conversation.

“You’re getting better with your attacks, George.” Leon smiled as he relaxed his defensive position, his chainmail clinking with the movement. His cape lay discarded over the fence. George stood taller.

“Thank you, Sir, but I learned from you so you have yourself to praise.”

“Oi. I’ve told you about round-abouting compliments like that.” The First Knight smirked, holding up his training sword unthreateningly.

“There’s worse things to be reprimanded for.” George shrugged. “Again?”

“Again. Remember to anticipate, don’t plan your defence before you see the attack.”

“Got it.” George nodded, holding his sword forward in a defensive stance that enabled him to turn his sword in any direction. Leon was quick to attack, swinging his sword low. George flicked his wrist to block it and swung back. Leon blocked that and pushed his sword forward against George’s, sending George stumbling backwards, before swinging down again. George recovered quickly, he blocked the move and swung his sword up, pushing Leon to raise his arm with it. George then hooked Leon’s leg with his own and tried to trip the First Knight, who immediately realised what was happening. He bent his upper body down to keep his weight balanced before grabbing George around the waist and tossing him over his shoulder with ease. George grunted as he hit the floor gracelessly.

“You know you’re tiny, right?” Leon joked as he reached a hand out to help George up. George took it.

“That doesn’t make me weak, just easier to throw.” He retorted. “Your weakness has always been when someone pushes your arm up like I did, if you want some criticism.”

“Well, that is down to an old wrist injury, I’ll have you know.”

“In that case, I’ll aim for your wrist next time.”

“Make sure that you do.” Leon chuckled, before realising he should probably let go of George’s hand. He did so, quickly, and moved his hand to where Sir Tedward sat on his belt, brushing back his fur. “Again?”

“When I can breathe, perhaps.” George joked. “You winded me.”

Leon opened his mouth to respond when a shout interrupted.

“Hey! You’ve got some good moves there, George.” Gwaine smirked as he approached the pair, followed by the other knights. 

“Thank you. Sir Leon has been teaching me.”

“Sir Leon taught us all.” Elyan chuckled. “He’s an excellent teacher.”

“And a fine swordsman.” Lancelot smiled. 

“Yes. It’s a shame none of you actually listen to me, otherwise you’d be great knights too.” Leon retorted.

“Ha, ha.” Gwaine snorted.

“None of us have bested Leon in the field. Except Arthur.” Percival added, indicating to the King, who was studying George closely. Then he spoke: 

“Maybe George will be the first. Let’s see what he’s got. Gwaine, you’re shortest. Give George your maille.”

“Oi! I’m not short!”

“Sire-“ Leon moved to protest, only for George to stop him. 

“I’d like to try, and it’s not like I’m any match for Arthur.”

“You’ve never practised with chainmail or a sword. It’s not the same.”

“I’ve wielded a sword in my time.” George reminded him. “I’d like to try. However, if you do not wish for it, I will stand down.”

“I-“ Leon faltered. Why was he upset by this, and would George be upset if Leon told him not to? Probably, but knowing the manservant, he’d hide it. Leon and George were the same in that aspect: they were both people-pleasers.

A raven landed on the fence next to him, and Leon waved it away before sighing.

“His attacks get heavier when he thinks he’s winning.” Leon gave in. George nodded. 

“Noted.” 

“Here.” Gwaine handed his maille to George. “Best of luck to you.”

“Thank you, Sir Gwaine, but I don’t need it. I will not be a challenging opponent.”

“At least he knows his chances.” Arthur laughed as George attempted to pull the chainmail over his head. Leon moved in quickly to help. “Unlike all of you who keep challenging me!”

“Lancelot beat you once, Sire!” Merlin beamed. Lancelot blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That’s different. I let him win.”

“Did not!” Gwaine accused. “The King is a liar!”

“Is that treason I hear?” Arthur asked, turning to Merlin, who shrugged. 

“That’s just an idiot, I think.”

“Oi!” Gwaine elbowed Merlin, but didn’t stop laughing.

“You ready, George?” Arthur turned back to the manservant, whom Leon was fussing over. Arthur snorted as the First Knight pulled at George’s arm guards, making sure they were secure.

“I am, Sire.”

“Leon’s not.” Gwaine joked. Percival and Elyan snorted while Lancelot elbowed Gwaine in the side, earning a yelp from the Knight. Leon reluctantly stepped back.

“No-one else was helping him.” Leon argued. Arthur rolled his eyes fondly.

“George is a big boy, he can manage.” 

“You gave George to Leon to help him, and now you’re stealing him.” Merlin pointed out. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“I’m only borrowing him for a moment! Gwaine, give George your sword.”

“Ah. No.” Leon interrupted once more, looking around for his sword. He found it resting against the fence. “Use mine. I don’t know when Gwaine last cared for his.”

“Last night, actually!”

“That’s not the sword he’s talking about.” Elyan muttered, and Percival doubled over with laughter. It was Gwaine’s turn to elbow his comrade.

“See if last night ever happens again.” Gwaine hissed.

“Oh, it will.” Elyan crossed his arms.

“I’m ready, my Lord.” George declared once Leon had handed over his own sword. 

Leon brushed Sir Tedward’s fur back as he watched George hold the sword in front of him, turning it this way and that as he familiarised himself with it. Leon trusted that it was balanced and sharp, unlike Gwaine’s. He’d never seen the other Knight care about his sword before.

“Excellent. Prepare yourself, George.”

George didn’t tell him he already had. Leon had told him that a knight should always be prepared, even when not in battle. An attack could come from any angle at any time, and an enemy won’t warn you of it.

Arthur swung high, George blocked it. He slid his blade against Arthur’s, pushing their swords down low before kicking Arthur’s chest plate to get some distance between them in case Arthur made to strike his leg. George lunged while Arthur stumbled, holding his sword with both hands and swinging low, but not fast enough. Arthur blocked it with ease and pushed his sword against George’s, forcing George to use his non-dominant hand.

Or so he thought.

George was as efficient with his left hand as he was his right. Arthur was nearly taken by surprise when George swung low again. The King twisted his body to avoid the blow and raised his own sword, moving to bring it down on George’s shoulder. George quickly blocked it and pushed his sword against Arthur’s, forcing his arm up the same way he’d forced Leon’s.

Except Arthur had hooked George’s leg with his foot and tripped the manservant onto his back, winding him again. Arthur went to deal a blow, but George rolled out of the path of the blade and swung the side of his sword at Arthur’s unarmoured shin. Arthur cried out, faltering in his step and giving George a split-second to pick himself up. George lunged with an upper attack, which Arthur knocked cleanly aside with one swing. 

Arthur swung again, strongly, so George stepped back and let gravity take over. Arthur almost fell at the lack of expected resistance.

George quickly weighed up his options before feigning an attack to the upper left, only to toss his sword to his other hand mid-swing and attack Arthur’s lower right. Arthur’s sword had been raised to defend the first blow, but he hadn’t anticipated the next. He was too slow in moving his sword to defend himself, and instead, he felt George’s sword slice his thigh.

Arthur cried out and held his thigh. George immediately faltered.

“My Lord!”

“Don’t stop!” Leon yelled from the sideline. George knew better than to disobey a master; He took the opportunity to kick Arthur’s chest plate again, this time, knocking the King onto his back. He stepped on Arthur’s sword to prevent him from using it, and pointed his own blade at Arthur’s chest shakily.

“Are you alright, my Lord?”

Arthur responded by releasing his sword and grabbing George’s leg with his now-free hand before rolling over, dragging the manservant down to the ground and knocking his sword from him. Arthur grabbed both his and George’s swords, positioning them both in a cross over George’s neck and standing over him. 

“It looks like I should be asking you that.”

“I yield, my Lord. I admit, I’m mortified that I’ve harmed you, Sire.”

“Don’t be. That was one of the best spars I’ve had in a while.” Arthur tossed the swords aside and reached down to help George up. George allowed the King to pull him up, though Arthur could tell the poor boy was shaking. Arthur patted George’s back and turned to Leon. “Leon, he’s a natural! None of my knights drew blood during our first spar.”

“I have to ask… Which hand is your dominant hand?” Lancelot asked as Merlin swooped in to look at Arthur’s leg.

“Oh. I don’t really have one. I use both. I trained myself to use both for my job. That way, I won’t be hindered if anything happens to my hand. I prefer to use my right hand, though.”

“Incredible.” Elyan breathed. “I bet even Leon can’t do that!”

“Who do you think taught me to feign an attack and switch?” George asked. Everyone turned to Leon, bar Merlin, who stood next to Arthur in concern.

“Seriously? You too?” Arthur gawped. “Both hands?”

“It is how I was taught: Leave no room for weakness.” Leon shrugged. Arthur grimaced as King Bor’s teachings came to light.

“Right. Well, I have no doubt Merlin is about to whisk me off to the physician’s chambers, so I suppose this concludes today's training.” Arthur turned to George. “Well done, George.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

Arthur, Merlin, and the other knights disbanded, bar Gwaine, who stood before Leon and George.

“Hey, um… any chance you could, um, go through some things with me?” Gwaine asked. Leon recognised the code for ‘I need to be soft and fall apart with someone I trust’ and quickly nodded.

“Of course, we can go to my chambers. George, you may find me this evening. Leave Gwaine’s maille in the armoury.”

“Thank you.” George nodded and bowed before taking his leave. Leon then gathered his cape and sword, and took Gwaine by the arm, leading him towards the knight's chambers. They walked in silence, which was probably for the best. Anyone who saw them probably thought the First Knight was taking Gwaine to reprimand him. 

When they reached Leon’s chambers, Leon closed the door and locked it before turning to Gwaine, who immediately shoved Leon against the door.

“Gwaine-”

“Am I okay to kiss you?” Gwaine asked, his voice thick. Leon thought about it.

“Alright.”

Gwaine pushed forward, but didn’t engage the kiss. Instead, he let Leon lean forward to start it. Gwaine then put all his effort into it until Leon pulled away. Gwaine respected it and let him.

“I thought this was important.” Leon frowned.

“Is this not important?” Gwaine asked. Leon’s chest ached at the lack of a grin or sassy tone. “Am I not important?”

“Of course you are, Gwaine.” Leon whispered, and leaned forward again for another kiss. Gwaine pushed back this time, unaccepting. “Gwaine-“

“Forget it. This was stupid.” Gwaine muttered and reached for the door. Leon stopped him by putting his hand over the handle, not that he needed to, since the door was locked. At least now, Leon understood what Gwaine needed, and it was indeed important.

“You are important.” Leon whispered. “Too important for me to allow you to leave believing anything less.”

“Whatever, Leon.” 

“Didn’t you reprimand me a few weeks ago for pushing Lancelot away?” Leon asked, leaning closer to Gwaine. “Stop pushing me away, Gwaine.”

“I’m sure you have more ‘important’ things to be doing.”

“I said the wrong thing, Gwaine. I didn’t realise what you were asking of me until you questioned your importance. Of course you are important, and I intend to prove it until you understand that.”

“No. No, Leon, I was stupid for coming to the most emotionally stunted Knight at the Round Table for affection.” Gwaine spat, reaching for the door again. Leon gripped Gwaine’s wrists and used his body weight to reverse their roles. Leon now leaned over Gwaine, who was pinned against the wall. Leon’s eyes widened.

“I… I’m sorry-” 

“Fuck, didn’t know you were into this kind of shit.” Gwaine chuckled weakly. Leon faltered.

“I-I’m not. I…” Leon released Gwaine, looking down at the floor. “I-I think you should leave before my temper gets worse…”

“Temper?” Gwaine asked. “That didn’t look angry to me.”

“What? Of course it was! I practically restrained you!”

“Do you even know what anger is? That wasn’t anger.” Gwaine asked. “I’ve seen your anger. Once. When Lamia possessed us.” 

Leon flinched as the memories of him shoving Merlin, yelling at Merlin and Gwen, attacking Gwaine, all flooded through his mind. 

“I was angry at Percival a few weeks ago.”

“You were upset with Percival for prying, because you didn’t like the conversation you were having.”

“I snapped at George this morning.”

“Was he prying too?” The dark-haired Knight asked as he unhooked Sir Tedward from Leon’s belt and brushed his fur back.

“Y-yes, but-”

“But nothing. You’re not angry, you’re upset. You need control, Leon, and you don’t really have any when it comes to your… whatever we’re calling it. Identity crisis? Self discovery? Emotional exploration? All of them?” Gwaine pushed Sir Tedward into Leon’s hand.

“It has to be anger…” Leon choked, discarding Sir Tedward to the floor. 

“Why?” Gwaine picked the bear up, but made no move to give him to Leon.

“Because it’s so… It’s so strong - I can’t stop it taking over…”

“What I saw looked like panic, not anger. And trust me, I know anger. Do you know how many bar fights I’ve been in? Or Started? You’re not angry, you’re trying to get control over the situation, and how did your Dad teach you to do that?”

“What does he-?”

“He was your only role model and he controlled you for years. With no-one to teach you otherwise, of course you’re going to copy his behaviour.”

“I-I try not to…” Leon whispered, his eyes burning. Gwaine smiled sadly.

“I know, you’ve never hurt anyone, never threatened anyone. You never punished or abused anyone, always encouraged and rewarded, you’re good like that. You’re not your Dad, Leon, that’s not what I’m saying, but you still have that need for control.”

“Gwaine-“

“You yell because you want people to listen, you snapped at Percival and George to stop them from talking about something that upset you, you grabbed me because I was trying to leave when you weren’t ready for me to leave.” Gwaine whispered. Leon said nothing, but refused to meet Gwaine’s eyes. The dark-haired Knight reached up and cupped the back of Leon’s head gently, forcing their eyes to meet. 

“You’re not angry, you’re trying to stay in control because… Well, if you lose it, you’ll be scared little Leon again, won’t you? You’ll be that kid who had no control over what was happening to him, who did what he was asked and was punished for it anyways… All those scars and not a clue what you did to deserve them…”

“Gwaine-”

“Shh, you’re alright, Darlin’.” Gwaine assured him. “If you lose control, I’ll look after you, okay? I won’t hurt you.” Gwaine promised, releasing Leon and pushing Sir Tedward into Leon’s hands again. This time, Leon didn’t drop him. “Now, who sat with you as a kid and put names to your emotions?”

“I…” Leon blinked. “I figured them out myself…”

“And you labelled panic and control as anger?”

“My Father said I was an angry child.”

“You were a scared child, Darlin’.” Gwaine corrected. “A scared and confused child. Of course you reacted with panic.”

Leon looked past Gwaine, over his shoulder, to where the image of his 7-year-old self from that morning had reappeared on Leon’s bed, watching the two of them carefully. He didn’t look angry… Not in the way his father often looked, but there was something…

“Hey… What’re you looking at?” Gwaine asked, glancing over his shoulder and back to Leon, who shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“You can trust me.” Gwaine whispered. Leon hesitated. 

“George… encouraged me to envision my younger self more…” Leon confessed, fidgeting with Sir Tedward. “It, um… makes it easier to see myself from a different perspective…”

“Okay.” Gwaine acknowledged as though it meant nothing, though inside, he was extremely excited about the fact Leon was using his imagination. “Does he look angry?”

“No…”

“Do you think maybe you got a bit confused with your emotions?”

“Perhaps…” Leon sighed, looking down at Sir Tedward in his hands. “I’m sorry, Gwaine. You came here to feel needed and I’ve ruined it.”

“Oi, stop it. Nothing’s ruined. Helping you makes me feel needed.” Gwaine reassured him before turning back to the bed. “What do you think he’s feeling then?”

Leon turned back to the bed, where younger Leon was looking between the two of them with uncertainty. His eyes lingered longer on Gwaine, looking him up and down.

“He’s confused.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t know why you’re helping us.” Leon explained. “He’s cautious of you.”

“Of course he is, he doesn’t know what love is, does he? You’ve never been able to trust another person before. Everyone’s been out to hurt you or make you feel inferior, how can you be expected to trust anyone after that?” Gwaine asked. “Go back to when you got upset with me, when I tried to leave. What was he feeling then?”

“I don’t know…”

“Okay.” Gwaine shrugged before reaching for the door again and unlocking it. Younger Leon cried out to stop him as he leapt from the bed and ran to Gwaine’s side, hugging his leg tightly as though to keep him from leaving. Knowing the child couldn’t stop Gwaine, Leon copied the action, wrapping his arms around Gwaine’s shoulder’s and holding him tight.

“What’s happening here?” Gwaine asked softly. 

“He doesn’t want you to go.”

“ You don’t want me to go.” Gwaine turned in Leon’s arms to face him. “You’re not angry about it though, are you? You’re just keeping me here.” Gwaine smiled. “What would happen if I did go? If I just walked out this door?”

“Please, don’t…”

“Alright, Darlin’.” Gwaine whispered, wrapping his arms around Leon’s neck and pulling him closer. Leon buried his face in Gwaine’s neck. “I got you. Both of you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re in control.”

“I need you…” Leon mumbled, and Gwaine chuckled.

“Now, how can I feel like anything less than the most important man in the world when you’re saying shit like that, eh?” Gwaine pulled away, taking Leon’s face in his hands. “Your kid-self ain’t looking, is he?”

“No, he’s gone now.”

“Good.” Gwaine smirked before leaning up to kiss the First Knight. Leon returned it hungrily, desperate to show Gwaine exactly what he was feeling. He loved Gwaine, didn’t he? Gwaine had to know it. Leon was so caught up in the moment that he barely registered Gwaine tapping his shoulder. He pulled away in confusion.

“Fuck…” Gwaine panted. “Shit, Darlin’, lemme breathe a second…”

“I-I apologise.”

“Don’t. I’ve never felt so needed in my life.”

“I’m overwhelmed.” Leon responded lamely, and Gwaine laughed.

“I’ll say!” Gwaine gently took Leon by the hands, being careful not to touch Sir Tedward, and pulled him over to the bed. Leon studied him sceptically as Gwaine sat him on the edge of the bed. “Hey, no, not doing anything like that, I know you ain’t into that. Just wanna show you something. Take your armour off though.”

“How sober are you?” Leon couldn’t help but ask as he did as Gwaine instructed, putting Sir Tedward to the side and pulling his maille over his head. Gwaine grinned.

“Haven’t had more than a tankard a night since our first ‘meeting’.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Gwaine chuckled before climbing onto the bed. Leon pushed his armour to the floor and moved to his arm braces to remove them, only for Gwaine to beat him to it. Leon watched the other knight remove them for him. “So… you remember you told me about that crisis you had over watching Lancelot and Merlin? Just after Lancelot almost died?”

“I… Don’t recall exactly what I told you…”

“Something about their closeness, like they were tryna merge bodies or some shit. Said you wanted to feel needed like that.”

“Yes.”

“You wanna feel what that’s like?”

“I-I-“ Leon blushed, considering Gwaine. “Yes…”

“Alright then, shift up the bed then, Darlin’.” Leon moved to sit in the middle of the bed, confused. Gwaine moved in one swift motion to straddle Leon’s hips before pressing a hand to Leon’s chest and pushing gently. “Just lay down and do whatever you want. If you want me to stop, tap me, okay?” 

“Okay.” Leon nodded, allowing Gwaine to push him back down.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” Gwaine whispered, one hand burying itself in Leon’s hair while the other gently came to rest on Leon’s cheek. The dark haired knight leaned down, pushing his body against Leon’s and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. The First Knight chased him, deepening the kiss and bringing his own hands up, one to pull Gwaine’s waist closer, while the other came to rest on the back of Gwaine’s neck.

“You got me.” Gwaine whispered against Leon’s lips. Leon hummed in acknowledgment before kissing him again, harder. Gwaine smiled, tightening his grip in Leon’s hair. Leon groaned in response, which made Gwaine pull back and chuckle.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were into that.”

“Shut up.” Leon breathed, moving his hand from Gwaine’s neck to his back to pull him even closer. Gwaine snorted and moved to kiss Leon’s neck, sucking on the skin there. Leon practically whimpered at the sensation, but he didn’t tap out, just kept a firm hold on his partner.

“Fuck, I’m gonna mark you.” Gwaine muttered. Leon scowled.

“You’d better not.”

“Challenge accepted.” Gwaine sucked harder, and Leon gasped at the feeling.

The First Knight couldn’t recall any feeling like it. It was as though nothing else mattered, not being a knight, not his duties, not his Father, not his other partners. Nothing but Gwaine, who was doing this because he loved him. That was why he was doing this, wasn’t it?

“What’s happening…?” Leon asked breathlessly. Gwaine glanced up at him, pausing his kissing.

“I’m making you feel loved.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.” Gwaine smiled as though it were obvious, but it quickly fell. “You do want this, don’t you?”

“I had to be sure.” Leon whispered. Gwaine chuckled and reached down, brushing a strand of Leon’s hair back from his face.

“I love you.” Gwaine repeated. “I wanna make you feel that, feel what love is.”

“Do I love you?”

“You want me to feel important, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, you do.”

“I love you.” Leon whispered. It felt good to say it, especially when Gwaine’s face lit up the way it did.

“I love you too.”

Leon then used his body weight to twist the two of them until they lay together in each other’s arms on their sides. Gwaine snorted.

“Shoulda known you were a cuddler.”

“Shut up.” Leon muttered, resting his chin atop Gwaine’s head and holding him close. Gwaine shifted a little, making himself comfy, before allowing Leon to just hold him. It wasn’t usually Gwaine’s style, but he felt safe. Secure. Hell, Leon was holding him as though he’d never let him go. He felt needed, important.

Which was exactly what he’d come for.

When Gwaine opened his eyes, it was to see Leon laying beside him, watching him and running a hand through his hair soothingly. Gwaine sighed deeply.

“I fell asleep?”

“Is that anything new?” Leon retorted. “You like sleep.”

“I like whatever this is.” Gwaine snuggled into Leon.

“Gwaine… I don’t know that I can do more than this…”

“And?” Gwaine asked. “Did I ask for more?”

“No, but-”

“Darlin’, I’m not expecting anything more than what you’re comfortable with.” Gwaine assured him. Leon nodded.

“Alright.”

“I’ve marked you.”

“You bastard.”

“Worth it.” Gwaine snorted. Leon rolled his eyes and pulled away, causing Gwaine to sit up and pout. “Hey!”

Any signs of Leon’s earlier vulnerability had gone, and Gwaine wondered if it was a mask or a frame of mind.

“I have to get some papers to Arthur before dusk.” Leon told him as he moved to his desk. He removed his sigil from the pile of paper, since George had finally agreed he could use the damn thing as a paperweight, and picked up the pile. Gwaine frowned.

“You have a sigil?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m cursed.” Leon sighed. Gwaine frowned harder.

“…What?”

“This is why I snapped at George this morning.” Leon warned, but he picked up the sigil and tossed it to Gwaine, who caught it and studied it. “My ancestors cursed the second borns in the bloodline when one of them failed to aid a sorcerer. This is why my Father hates me.” Leon explained as he put the pile of papers down on the bed and moved to put his armour back on. 

Gwaine studied the sigil, running his thumb over the Raven gently. He suddenly startled, scrambling up from the bed. 

“Gwaine?”

“Three legs…”

“What…?”

“The Raven. It has three legs. Have you shown this to Percival?”

“Why would I show it to Percival?”

“His tattoo, it means ‘three legs’. Percy might know something about it.”

“What tattoo?” Leon asked, securing his arm braces.

“Oh, shush, Percy told me that you know of it otherwise I wouldn’t have mentioned it.” Leon relaxed a little. “The Triskelion, it means three legs. It also means that things happen in threes. Maybe Percy knows a way to end the curse.”

“End the curse…?” Leon blinked.

“It’s gotta be worth a shot, hasn’t it?” Gwaine asked. “But it’s up to you, Leon. I won’t push it. Just… What does your kid self think?”

Leon glared at Gwaine for a moment, before sighing. The image of his child self knelt behind Gwaine, leaning over him to look at the sigil. He recalled when he was young, sitting with the sigil in his hands after punishment, begging it to make it all stop. 

Of course, it didn’t.

Leon locked eyes with his younger self, whose eyes shone with the unshed tears of pain and rejection that he’d fought so hard to hide. Leon sighed.

“Alright.”

Percival and Lancelot, sitting together on Percival’s bed and surrounded by papers, both looked up as a knock at the door interrupted their reading.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“No.” Percival stood from the bed and crossed the room, pulling the door open.

“Percy! My favourite Druid!”

“Gwaine!” Leon glanced down the hallway before clasping his hand over Gwaine’s mouth and pushing his way into Percival’s room. “You can’t just yell things like that! What if Lancelot hadn’t known?! What if someone had heard?!”

“…He’s Lancelot!” Gwaine cried, muffled by Leon’s hand. Lancelot shook his head disapprovingly while Percival looked absolutely mortified.

“We can leave.” Leon offered, but Percival shook the shock off and forced a smile while Gwiane freed himself from Leon by kicking his hand.

“It’s alright.” Percival chuckled as Leon wiped his hand on his cape in disgust. “…Is that a bruise on your neck?”

“Sure is. What’s this? Poetry?” Gwaine joked, taking the papers from Lancelot’s hands. 

“Wait, Gwaine!” Lancelot reached for the papers, and Percival tried to grab them back, only for Gwaine to pull them out of their reach. He frowned at the papers, flicking through them, until Leon snatched the papers harshly.

“Stop being rude.” Leon growled, handing the papers back to Lancelot, who hid them under Percival’s pillow.

“Why are you reading the alphabet?” Gwaine asked.

“I’m sorry, Percy-” Lancelot tried to apologise, but Percival stopped him.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” Lancelot tried, but Percival shook his head.

“It is. They were going to find out sooner or later.” Percival sighed. “I can’t read. Lancelot’s teaching me.”

“You can’t…” Leon frowned. “Then how are you completing the list of duties I give you?”

“I usually ask Lancelot or Merlin. Some words I can recognise now, like ‘horse’ and ‘sword’ and ‘training’. Lancelot’s going to show me how to write my name once I get the letters memorised.”

“I wish you’d have told me, but I understand why you didn’t. I’ll make some alterations to your lists for you, if you want?” Leon offered. 

“I’d appreciate that.” Percival smiled. “Um… What can I do for you?”

“Leon’s got a sigil we want you to look at.”

“If you would.” Leon added. “You do not have to.”

“Sure, I’ll look at it.” Percival smiled, holding out his hand. Leon took the sigil from a pouch on his belt and handed it to Percival, who looked it over.

“Why do you have a sigil?” Lancelot asked. Leon sighed.

“My ancestors, two brothers, were tested by a sorcerer many years ago. The second-born failed, and the sorcerer cursed all second-borns in the bloodline. My Father and I are both second-born, the sigil was passed down to me the moment I was born to remind me that I was a bad omen.”

“I think your story has been twisted through the years, Leon.” Percival frowned at the sigil, angling it in the light. “This isn’t a sigil, it’s an old runecoin.”

“A runecoin?” Leon asked. “Are you certain?”

“These markings are unmistakable.” Percival affirmed. Lancelot moved to get a closer look at the sigil.

“Leon, your ancestors were tested by the Disir. Were they magic users?” Percival asked. Leon shook his head.

“I don’t believe so. Magic is banned in Gaunnes as it is here.”

“Why a Raven?” Lancelot asked.

“Because they’re a bad omen and bring about death?” Leon suggested. The other knights looked at him. “What?”

“Actually, the druids view them more… spiritually.” Percival explained. “They represent transformation, prophecy and wisdom. Yes, they can guide those from death to the otherworld and will fly over the battlefield to do so, but they are also messengers.”

“What does any of that mean?” Leon asked.

“Perhaps a transformation needs to happen, or has happened. Perhaps someone is trying to tell you something.” Percival suggested. “I can read the runes if you like?”

“Sorry, hold on, you can’t read the alphabet, but you can read those shapes?” Gwaine asked. Leon elbowed him. “Ow!”

“Please.” Leon nodded. Percival nodded, and tilted the coin to read it. 

“It says… ‘faceth the curse thou yearns to break’.”

“…I’m sorry, how the hell is he supposed to do that?” Gwaine asked. “We don’t even know what the curse is!”

“Gwaine.” Lancelot hissed before turning to Leon, who had turned away dejectedly. “I’m sorry, Leon.”

“Gwaine’s right. We don’t know what the curse is, that detail was lost… I believed I was cursed to be unloved, but George insists that is not the case because… Well, I am loved by you.”

“You are.” Lancelot smiled, taking Leon’s hand in his. “You’re not unlovable, Braveheart.”

“If that is true, then I do not know what the curse could be…”

“We’ll think about it.” Gwaine assured him. “Whatever it is, we’re here and we’ll help you break it.”

“You will?” Leon asked, and everyone nodded.

“Of course.”

“Absolutely.”

“We will.”

Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival spoke over each other. Leon relaxed a little, allowing himself to smile. 

“Thank you…”

Near dusk, Leon rounded the corner to the throne room, papers in his hands, only to freeze in his steps when he saw a familiar someone staring at the throne room doors.

“George.” Leon addressed. “Are you alright?”

“I, um…” George glanced at the door again. “I seem to be struggling… to see the King…”

“Would you like me to help?” Leon asked. George nodded slightly.

“Please.”

“Alright.”

Leon pushed the doors open gently, as opposed to the way he usually threw them open to announce the importance of whatever he had to say. The Knights, surrounding Arthur and pausing their conversation, moved to stand in a line at one side of the room, allowing George and Leon a clear path to Arthur. They stopped a small distance from Arthur.

“Sir Leon. George.” Arthur greeted from his throne, and both Leon and Geroge bowed in respect. “What can I do for you?”

“I have those papers you requested.” Leon handed the papers to Arthur, who nodded in thanks, before stepping back. “George.” Leon moved behind the manservant, allowing him to do what he needed to do.

“I…” George faltered, his eyes darting from the other knights to Arthur, trying to keep his posture proper. “I wanted to speak up. Sire. I was informed that you were listening to the stories of servants who have been abused in their position?”

Leon stepped forward protectively, but caught himself and remained behind George. 

“I am listening, yes. A saddeningly large number of people have already come forward. Each story will back up the need for a new law for the protection of servants.” Arthur explained. “Would you feel willing to share, George? I can send my men out if you wish.”

“Could Sir Leon stay?” George asked before he could stop himself. Before he could say anything more, Leon spoke up.

“Of course, George.”

“It’s Merlin and Arthur all over again…” Gwaine scoffed from the side, earning a snort from Elyan, but a glare from Leon shut them both up.

“You’re all dismissed.” Arthur nodded to the knights, who all bowed respectfully before leaving. Leon remained behind George, mirroring what George had done for him that morning; George would know he had someone to listen to him without having to think about the fact that he was listening. 

“My story is not my own, Sire, however the maiden who the story belongs to is not here to tell it.”

“You speak for Morwyn?” Arthur sat up.

“You… know of her, Sire?” George asked in awe.

“Of course. I heard the news before my Father threatened anyone who spoke of it. He refused to tell me what had happened.” Arthur’s tone was gentle.

“She was a wonderful maiden.” George smiled sadly. “She was young, 18 at the time, and she was a joy to be around. She found happiness in everything. She was very lovable and kind, and always had time to help others. She’d wear a flower in her hair that she’d found during her morning walk each day, though she usually ended up giving it to another person whom she thought needed it more. And she loved her work, Sire: meeting the visiting nobles, serving during the feasts, she found comfort in laundry of all things… ” George’s fond smile fell and he bowed his head. “Then Lord Bayard came.”

“He signed a peace treaty, before Merlin was poisoned by a chalice meant for me. We believed it to be Bayard who poisoned it, but it was revealed to be a sorcerer disguised as his handmaiden. He went back to his kingdom, and has visited a second time to re-sign the treaty.”

“That second visit took Morwyn from us, Sire.”

“Explain, please, George.”

“I assigned Morwyn to Lord Bayard. She performed all her duties perfectly, until the final night of his visit. He got drunk along with most of his men. She noticed him grow more uncontrolled and kindly guided him to his chambers. Once there…” George suddenly looked down, unable to look at the King.  “Once there, he tried to bed her, and when she refused, he beat her until she couldn’t fight back. He had her anyway… She never smiled again… she only lasted a week after the event.”

“How do you know of this, George?” Arthur pried gently. 

“She was my little sister, Sire, and she confided in me.” George whispered, his eyes burning. “I held her as she cried from the pain and the emotional torment, and pleaded with her to go to Gauis… She was so scared. I reported the incident, both before and after her death, only to be ignored once Lord Bayard said it wasn’t so. I tried to stop her when she blamed herself. I was the only person she wrote to when she freed herself from this world. I still have the note, if you wish to see it…?”

“Thank you, George, but that is personal to you and I will not take that from you.”

“Thank you, Sire…” George’s voice wavered a little, so he took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve tried my hardest to keep the other servants safe. I now only appointed male staff to male nobles, female staff to female nobles, I’ve trained myself in sword defence, which I have used twice to protect two servants. I ensure that I know where everyone is at any given time and if they aren’t there, I will go and find them. There is so much more I could do if I only had the time and staff, Sire.”

Arthur stood and moved to stand before George, his expression compassionate and pained. 

“George. I am so sorry for the pain caused to you and to Morwyn. You’ve done well to come and tell me of her ordeal. I promise you, a law is being written to keep things like this from happening again, and with the evidence gathered, I have no doubt everyone will rule in favour. You will all be safe here. I shall name the law in her honour, her name will bring about change for servants here in Camelot. There shall never be another story like hers for as long as Camelot stands.”

“Thank you, Sire…” George tried to nod and bow respectfully, but his composure was visibly breaking and he swayed slightly. Arthur reached out to steady him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“George, with this new law, I will need a Steward. As I understand from the other servants, you’ve taken on that responsibility since before Morwyn’s passing without being officially promoted, meaning you are still on the same wage as any other servant, and taking on more than you should be. If you accept the position of Steward, the office will officially be yours rather than mine, you will be able to hire a small staff, which will include Merlin, to help you, and you will earn more than you currently are. You would essentially be to the Servants as Leon is to the Knights. Is that something you’d be willing to think about or accept?”

“What about my work with Sir Leon?”

“I’d like you to continue with Leon, your work with him has been…”

“Incredible.” Leon filled in. Arthur nodded.

“That is why you will have staff, George, to fill in when you’re unavailable in the mornings and the evenings.”

“I- I will accept, My Lord. Thank you…” George whispered. Arthur nodded to Leon, indicating that he was about to move away, before letting go of George. Leon quickly swept in, replacing Arthur’s hand on George’s shoulder.

George moved to turn into Leon, but seemingly remembered his place and pulled back. Leon wrapped one side of his cape over his own front to protect George from the chill of his armour, before pulling the other side with his arm over George’s shoulders, covering him like a blanket. 

George couldn’t bring himself to move, he just stood and let Leon hide him from the world.

“Take as long as you need, George.” Arthur whispered before patting Leon’s back and leaving the room. 

After a while, George's trembling had stopped and his body grew heavy against Leon’s, his head resting on Leon’s shoulder.

“I miss her so much…” George whispered. “I should be more grateful, I know-” Leon nodded.

“It’s happening too late, I understand why you’re still upset. She didn’t deserve it, George…”

“Then why did it happen?”

“Why does anything happen?” Leon sighed. “Good people are punished for the wrongdoings of others… It’s an unfair and unjust world. That’s why we’re lucky to have Arthur. He is fair and just, he will not let it happen again.” Leon assured him. George nodded against him before pulling away.

“I apologise-”

“Don’t.” Leon whispered. “If I am not allowed to apologise for my emotions, then neither are you.”

“Thank you.” George settled on saying instead.

“Have you had any time to grieve for her?”

“Working helps me forget.” George replied a little too honestly. “Grieving won’t help anything.”

“George… I have an idea. Instead of coming to my quarters later, would you come and find me in the visiting noble’s room?”

“I- I can, but-“

“It will make sense once you arrive, I promise.” Leon assured him. George nodded then.

“Alright. I will meet you there.”

George found Leon, true to his word, in the visiting noble’s room later that evening, without his armour but still with his belt, his sword, and Sir Tedward. Leon smiled as George entered the room.

“How are you feeling?”

“Well, thank you.” George nodded respectfully, then frowned at Leon's neck. “Are you wounded?”

”No, but my pride is somewhat.” Leon muttered. George dropped the topic.

”Why have you requested we meet here?”

“Ah. I spoke to Arthur and I, rather immorally, abused my ‘identity crisis’ somewhat. I told Arthur I was in need of destressing. He’s become quite concerned about it since Merlin told him people can die from stress.” Leon chuckled. “He has allowed me permission to destroy this room.”

“I see.”

“He has replacement furniture ready, and I have removed anything irreplaceable, which wasn’t much, and replaced it with… Well, tat, essentially. Everything here is allowed to be destroyed.” Leon turned to look at the room. “Lord Bayard isn’t here, so we cannot exact revenge, however… you can take your frustrations out here.”

“Me…?”

“Forgive me if I have misread or overstepped, George… I felt there was a lot of unreleased emotion when you were talking about Morwyn’s fate… I thought this might help you to let go of some of those feelings, perhaps even grieve her.”

“I… I appreciate the thought, Leon, I really do, but I’m afraid I don’t understand why.”

“Because I consider you a friend, and with all you’ve done to help me, I felt the support should be returned. Don’t worry, Arthur believes this is for me. You shan’t get into any trouble.” Leon assured him, but George still looked confused. “When I was a child, when I got upset, my first instinct was to break something. Of course, that stopped immediately after the first time. My Father was not impressed in the slightest. But now, when I’m training and I shoot pots with arrows, or snap my training sword against an opponent, or even when my lance shatters in tournaments, I feel a lot better after it. As soon as I told Arthur that little sob-story, he agreed to let me do this.”

“I think I understand now.” George nodded. “Are you certain it’s alright?”

“You’re my manservant, whatever I say goes, doesn’t it?” Leon joked. George chuckled.

“I suppose it does. I’m not really certain where to begin…”

“Let me start for you, then.” Leon unsheathed his sword, and with a clean swing, he swept everything off the table. He grinned at George, who laughed at the audacity of the situation. 

“There.” Leon rested his sword on the now clear table, and gestured to it to offer it to George. The manservant took it carefully, before immediately taking it over to the bed. Leon stood to the side, out of the way, and watched as George plunged the sword into the mattress. It didn’t seem to have the desired effect, but Leon was certain he knew what would.

“George.” Leon took a small dagger from his belt and held it out for the manservant, who zeroed in on it. He took it wordlessly, as though in a trance, and turned it over in his hands. Leon took the opportunity to remove the sword from the mattress, and start breaking some things himself so George wouldn’t feel his eyes on him. 

Leon had just stabbed his sword through a chair when George climbed onto the bed, and stabbed the mattress with a cry. 

That. That had done something for George, Leon could tell from the way George’s body seemed to move automatically. George yanked the blade out, and stabbed the mattress again, crying out as he did so. And again. And again. Leon resisted the urge to wince as George stabbed and stabbed repeatedly at the mattress, his cries growing more and more pained with each blow. 

Leon continued, though, to break things around him, to show George he wasn’t alone in his pain, to prove it was okay. While George stabbed and dragged the blade through the mattress, Leon sliced paintings in two and kicked the doors off the wardrobe. George moved onto the bed-curtains once the mattress was unable to hold him anymore, slicing through them as he had done with the mattress. 

George was about to move onto the various cushions around the room when he faltered and fell to his knees in the middle of the room, suddenly gasping for breath and choking back a broken sob. Fearing him injured, Leon sheathed his sword and rushed to his side, kneeling with him and examining him closely.

“George…?”

George sobbed harder, and Leon understood. George’s barriers had broken and he was finally allowing himself to grieve for his sister, to ache at the injustice. Leon slowly, carefully, took the dagger from George and sheathed it in his belt before wrapping his arms around his manservant and pulling him close. 

“It’s alright, George, this is alright. Let it happen.” Leon assured him. That was all the affirmation George needed to bury himself into Leon, as though the First Knight could hide him from the outside world and all the cruelty it held, and Leon tried. He held George as though he could shield him from the pain and torment of his past. 

He held him as though he could merge their bodies together.

Leon’s mind stuttered as he glanced down at George, trembling in his arms as he cried for his sister. Leon’s heart raced at the mere audacity of the suggestion his brain had just supplied. Did he… love George? 

Leon shook his head, almost growling at himself. Now was hardly the time or place. How dare he think about that when George needed him so desperately? This was not about him, it was about George. He continued to whisper to George, to rub his arm and his back, trying to bring him as much comfort as he was able. 

When the sobs died down, it took Leon a moment to realise his manservant had fallen asleep. 

Leon finally realised that, in the rush of destruction, George had discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and his hair had been tussled at some point. It was unusually untidy of George, but the look suited him. Leon shook that thought from his head also. It was hardly appropriate!

Leon tightened his hold on George and stood, holding his manservant against his chest. George shifted slightly and Leon stilled, not wanting to wake him. George would insist on carrying out his duties and deny himself the rest he desperately needed. 

Luckily, George nuzzled into Leon and relaxed. Leon then collected George’s jacket from the bed, and began the trek to the servant’s quarters, doing his best to remain unseen and spare George any humility. 

Luckily, the only person he bumped into was Merlin. 

“Leon!”

“Merlin.” Leon whispered in greeting. “Don’t wake him.”

“Is he okay? What did you do to him?” Merlin gawped, then frowned at Leon’s neck. “Is that-?”

”Gwaine.”

”Ah.”

“George is just asleep.” Leon assured him. 

“He’s sleeping on the job, he’ll have a heart attack when he wakes up.”

“I know, that’s why I don’t want you to wake him.”

“Oh, right. Got it. What happened?”

“He was grieving his sister.”

“You- Sorry, he grieved Morwyn? Leon, we’ve been trying to get him to do that for years.”

“Merlin, can you just direct me to his chambers please?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll take you.” Merlin offered. Leon nodded gratefully and followed the manservant, stepping carefully as to not jolt George. 

“Here.” Merlin pushed a door open for Leon, who stepped into the room. It was small and mostly empty, and there were two beds. Leon guessed one of them had been Morwyn’s.

“Which bed is his?”

“Um, that one, with the massive workload next to it.” Merlin pointed to the bed. Leon gently placed George down. 

“Is there someone who can stay with him so he doesn’t wake up alone?”

“I can come back after my duties with Arthur. I’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay in the meantime then. Perhaps I can cut down his workload for him.” Leon thought aloud as he unhooked Sir Tedward from his belt and placed him gently next to George. Merlin smirked. 

“You’re such a softy, you know that?”

“Away with you, Merlin, you speak nothing but lies.” Leon waved the young warlock away, who couldn’t help but laugh. 

Once Merlin had gone, Leon sat himself on a chair at the end of George’s bed, and began to sift through some of the paperwork there. With his mind busied, he didn’t think anymore about the thoughts that remained unanswered.