Chapter Text
He stared down at the small bundle in his arms. His previous happiness and joy melting away to a twisted disgust and hatred. His heart hardening and an icy tendril squeezing tightly. He could hear voices calling to him, what they were saying he did not have a clue. The small child stared back at him, bright blue eyes that were too familiar and loved for him to stare too long. A gentle hand grasped his shoulders steering him down onto a too soft seat. Again, words were being whispered, hushed murmurings that he could not find it within himself to care about.
His world was gone.
A couple of hours of pushing. Screams. Pained grunts. Cries. Then blood. Too much blood. Haemorrhaging they said. Nothing they could have done they said. It wasn’t her time. They had so many plans, so much left to do. He wanted to create this perfect world for her but the world had cruelly taken her from him. Left him with a small part of her. This tiny human. The reason why she had died.
Trembling his held his arms out, pushing the bundle away from him not able to look anymore. Immediately someone was by his side like they always were. He heard the sharp cries of the child as he was taken from him but again, he didn’t care.
The people would have to know. He would have to put out an official announcement.
The Queen was dead.
Long Live the Queen.
What would they say? What would they do? Would there be a prolonged state of national mourning? Would his heart ever feel full again? What was he meant to do without her? She was always his rock. She was the one the people loved not him. He was a mere shadow to her brightness. He could not do this alone. But he had to. He was the King. Kings did not get to give up no matter how broken his heart was or how desperate he was to hear her laugh, see her smile and stare in her eyes once again. To feel her joy, she had glowed when she had discovered she was pregnant, she was destined to become a mother with all the love she had in her heart. Why? Why was she taken? She had held the child for a minute before she had died. He had taken her life, that he was sure of.
They had turned to magic and magic had turned on them.
There was only one thing that could be done.
“Bring her to me,” he spat out his voice cold and devoid of any emotion. His eyes narrowing at the royal protection officer that had been assigned to him for the current day. The man instantly standing to attention upon hearing his voice. “Now!” he barked noting the full body flinch running down the RPO’s spine. The man inclined his head, turning on his heels he twisted open the door to the private hospital room Uther was currently perched in, taking his leave not questioning who the king meant.
Uther hung his head in his hands. Breathing deeply swallowing any and all emotions he could feel dwelling inside of his chest. Repression was his friend. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the private nurse cradling his son, humming softly and pressing her finger lightly to the boy’s cheek. “Get out,” he deadpanned, the woman startling at the sound of his voice. Her lips pursed like she was about to argue before nodding softly. She placed the child back into the bassinet making sure that he was swaddled properly in his royal red blankets. She bowed low to Uther as she hurried passed out of the room.
Now he was alone.
Uther let out a deep growl, his sadness turning to anger. Anger at the world. Anger at magic. Anger at the child. Cursing under his breath he pushed to his feet. In two strides he was standing in front of the hospital bassinet. His son blinked up at him, his feet kicking out inside of the blanket and his face scrunching up like he was considering whether or not he needed to cry. Uther wanted to hate him. He wanted to yell. Curse. Scream at how unfair it was that this…his son got to live and his wife died but…but looking down at the boy…seeing the innocence the fragile life that would be in his hands to take care off. He could feel nothing but sympathy. His son would never know the touch of a mother’s love. He would grow up with the burden of the kingdom upon his shoulders and a legacy to live up to.
Because oh did Uther have plans.
There was no place for magic in this world and he was going to make sure of that.
Uther placed his hand gently on his son’s forehead. Those too blue eyes staring up at him causing his heart to pulse harshly in his chest. “We will get our vengeance,” he promised smiling softly at the gentle gurgle the infant let out. His hand lifting to his mouth to chew on his fist. “Arthie,” he breathed out voicing the nickname Ygraine had taken to calling her unborn child. She would sit and read to her bump claiming that she was bonding with him, letting him hear her voice. Uther wished Arthur would have these memories. “Together we will eradicate those that oppose us, I promise I will create the perfect kingdom for you, for Ygraine,” he uttered her name like it was the most precious words he had ever spoken. To him it was. A name that was never to be mentioned again in his presence in fear that his broken heart would completely shatter in two.
The hospital door opened with a clang. Arthur letting out a long wail at the sudden noise. Uther pulling his hand away and turning his back upon the infant. The nurse from earlier was hovering in the doorway, her eyes unsure. Uther waved his hand in the air towards his son, the nurse swiftly moving to the prince, picking him up and soothing his cries.
The RPO had returned, a struggling woman within his firm grasp. She was snarling and gnashing her teeth towards the man. Her brown hair flying wildly and her intense blue gaze boring disdainfully into Uther’s. She was thrown to the floor by the king’s feet. The RPO resuming his previous position of guarding the door, his hands twisting on the pommel of his ceremonial but still very useable sword. Uther had always put stock in sword work. He had found it an art, a skill that showed pure power and dominance. He would have to ensure that Arthur grew up knowing how to defend himself. There was going to be those out there that would have his head if they could to get to Uther. He needed to ensure that his last link to Ygraine was protected.
“Uther, what is the meaning of this,” the woman growled pushing herself to her feet, brushing down the dust from her purple lace dress. Her expression was firm, her eyes like ice. How he had ever seen friendship and kindness in her he did not know. He had trusted her once; he would not make that mistake again.
“Your Royal highness to you,” Uther declared straightening his back placing his kingly façade firmly back into place. “Nimueh,” he mustered as much venom as he could when he spoke her name. His anger and fury festering underneath his skin, growing with every second he looked at her. “I have summoned you here to answer for your crimes.”
“Crimes?” Nimueh scoffed, her eyes falling over Uther’s shoulder to where Arthur was beginning to settle. The king moving to block her view not liking the look upon her face. “If it wasn’t for me, you would not have a son to pass on the Pendragon name too,” she chuckled without humour. “Arthur.”
“You do not speak his name,” Uther stepped forward pressing his right index finger into her face not caring in the slightest that she was powerful priestess of the Old Religion. He did not take stock in her magical beliefs or their ‘titles.’ “How do you plead?”
“I don’t know depends what I have done!” Nimueh declared her eyes flashing gold. A tingle of fear thrumming down Uther’s spine at the show of her power but he did not let her see. He would not give her the satisfaction. “I told you Uther that to create a life a price must be paid,” she threw her hands up in the air turning in a circle. “Magic cannot make something out of nothing,” she added rounding upon the King. The RPO grabbing her shoulders before she could get close showing how quick his reflexes were. “You both knew of the risks.”
“No, if I had known…”
“What?” Nimueh tilted her head to the side. “Are you saying you wish your son had never been born?” she tutted the King refusing to dignify her with an answer. Too ashamed and scared to acknowledge the truth. “Way to give the prince a complex before he can even talk!” she laughed throwing her head back. The RPO drawing his sword out of the sheath slightly, his eyes locked onto Uther waiting for his direct order. “How do you think the people will react when they find out that their King killed their Queen?” Uther growled menacingly. “How do you think Arthur will feel when he finds out he is the reason his mother died?” she added clapping her hands together. “I warned you; you did not listen to me. This is on you Uther Pendragon.”
“No, you killed your Queen,” Uther narrowed his eyes. “From this day forth magic is a criminalised act.”
“WHAT NO!” Nimueh shouted striding forward. The RPO tugging her back. With a flick of her hand and a flash of gold the man was thrown away. His head smacking against the wall, leaving a bloody mark, his body crumpling into a heap upon the floor. The nurse squealed, Arthur wailing in response still in her arms. Nimueh staring at the prince once more a cruel smirk upon her face. “You do not want to make a powerful enemy out of me,” she warned her right hand placing over Uther’s heart. The king finding that he could not move. “You will rue this day,” she declared. “Feorhbealu hiwræden frumcynn!” she cried out.
Uther felt the cascade of magic flow through his veins.
He cried out, falling to his knees. Gritting his teeth, he could feel his body spasming. Behind him the nurse was shouting, Arthur was crying louder, his little voice full of pain, a noise that would never leave Uther for as long as he would live.
Something fractured inside of the King.
His vision flooded to red and literal steam curled out of his nose
His spine cracked and popped.
“A CURSE UPON THE PENDRAGON NAME!” Nimueh screamed laughing manically.
Uther’s body convulsed.
His eyes rolling into the back of his head before his whole world fell into the darkness.