Chapter Text
“Do not think that. It is your father who should carry the guilt for what happened.”
Arthur feels himself frown at his mother’s words and the way her expression falters as though she said too much. “What do you mean?”
“It is not important.” His mother shakes her head, smiling as she reaches up to cup his face between her hands. “What matters is that you lived.”
Arthur can’t let it go though, of all the stories he’s heard of his parents, it’s that his father loved Ygraine so much that when she died, his heart broke, changing both Uther and the Five Kingdoms forever. He doesn’t understand why he should possibly feel guilty for his wife’s death. “Why should my father feel guilty?”
His mother just shakes her head again. “It is better left in the past,” she tells him, with a note of finality in her voice but a mixture of desperation and fear claws up inside of Arthur and he’s unable to let the matter rest when they have so little time.
“You cannot leave me with more questions,” he begs, not caring how weak it seems as he takes both of his mother’s hands from his face and holds them close to his chest, “please.”
His mother takes in what must be a pitiful expression on his face and squeezes his hands tighter between her cold ones as she sighs softly. “Your father, he was desperate for an heir. Without a son, the Pendragon dynasty would come to an end. But I could not conceive,” she starts, still sounding hesitant.
“But how was I born?”
Sadness fills his mother’s eyes and her whole body seems to sag with it. “Your father betrayed me,” she starts and denials start filling Arthur’s head on instinct. “He went to the sorceress Nimueh and asked for her help in conceiving a child.” His mother smiles, a soft and almost sympathetic expression before she speaks again. “You were born of magic.”
Arthur pulls his hands away from her as he stumbles back a step, shaking his head. He looks up at Morgause, expecting to see her pleased with whatever trick this is, but she’s staring at Ygraine with an undeniable expression of shock on her face. Arthur looks back to his mother, anger and fear clouding together making his heart race and nausea twist inside of him. “That's not true,” he manages, aware of the tremor in his voice. To be born of magic is the greatest of sins. Arthur has seen his father put countless people put to death for less.
His mother reaches out for him again but he jerks his hands away, horror twisting inside of him. Why would she make up lies like this? Why would she tell him this when they have so little time together?
“I'm sorry, Arthur,” she says and he hates how sincere her voice is, gentler than any other voice he’d grown up hearing. “Your father has deceived you as he deceived me. To create a life, a life must be taken. Your father knew that.”
“No.” The word falls from his lips so easily, ready to defend his father from these lies but she keeps talking, looking suddenly desperate for him to listen.
“He sacrificed my life so the Pendragon dynasty could continue,” she says harshly and then despite his attempts to push her away she takes hold of his arms, her fingers digging in through his chain mail as she almost pleads for him to listen. “It makes you no less my son, nor me any less proud of you. Now I see you-” She smiles slightly now though there are tears in her eyes. “I would have given my life willingly. Do not let this knowledge change you.”
Tears cloud Arthur’s vision and somehow, deep down, he knows that what his mother is saying is the truth. It’s the final piece to the puzzle that has been his father. His unyielding rage, his refusal to go near Arthur for the first several years of his life, his banishing of everything belonging to Ygraine from court.
A cold wind curls through the courtyard and between one heartbeat and the next, Ygraine is gone.
“Arthur,” Uther pleads and it almost makes Arthur hesitate. Despite everything he’s seen in his father's face in his lifetime, he’s never seen him beg before, not for Arthur’s life. Not for Morgana’s. Only his own. “Stop this.”
Arthur’s fingers flex around the hilt of his sword, his chest heaving as he tries to keep the blade steady against his father’s throat. He thinks of his mother’s face, full of love and compassion. Everything Uther isn’t. Thinking of her hurts though, more now than it ever has before, now that he has a real memory of her to think about. He can see her face clearer now than he ever has in a portrait. She was there. Standing in front of him, as real as Uther is now. Except… she wasn’t. She wasn’t there, because of Uther.
How many other people? Arthur’s mind asks. How many other boys grew up without a mother or a father because of Uther’s hypocritical anti-magic decrees? Gwen’s face comes to mind as Tom was dragged away, desperately pleading his innocence. He thinks of Mordred, the little boy born into a druid clan, too young to decide anything for himself, just as innocent as any other child born in Camelot, no matter their parents. Both people and their families that Uther had prosecuted and had tried to execute.
Every person he’d sent to a pyre or block in anger and fear was because of the magic he himself had knowingly used. Arthur doesn’t understand it. As he thinks of all the people he’s seen executed in the past twenty years, all of the people whose deaths his father has made him complicit in. What were they to Uther? In his mind it’s revenge for a betrayal that never happened.
Uther looks up at him, fear shining in his eyes - not for his death though - it's Arthur’s judgement he fears. It reminds Arthur of all the times Uther has denied everyone in his court their own opinion, not wanting to be seen as wrong.
It terrifies Arthur and as his father’s son, that fear rears up inside him as rage and he raises his blade up, ready to bring down and to finish this.
The doors to the courtroom behind Arthur crash open against the cold stone walls and Arthur lets out a breath and lets the sword swing down.
“Arthur, don’t!”
Merlin’s voice stops Arthur short, the blade of Arthur’s sword nicks the skin at Uther’s neck but the only damage is a thin trail of blood that runs slowly down to stain his shirt.
“Arthur, I know you don’t want to do this.”
Arthur doesn’t look away from his father, knowing better than to give him the opportunity to gain the upper hand but even without turning, he knows Merlin’s voice and he hears the softer tone that always seems to break through to him, despite him being a servant to his Prince.
“My mother is dead because of him,” is all he manages and he barely notices how broken his own voice sounds.
A noticeable beat passes through the air and when Merlin speaks again, despite the emotion in his voice, he doesn’t deny it. “Killing your father won’t bring her back,” he says, quieter than before. “You’ve lost one parent. Do you really want to lose another?”
It doesn’t matter, Arthur thinks, if he runs his father through right now or not. He’s already lost his father. He never really had him in the first place.
He doesn’t even hear the way Uther begs for him to listen to his manservant, or the way he tries to plead that it wasn’t that simple, that he didn’t want Ygraine to die.
“Arthur.” Merlin’s nearer now, almost close enough that Arthur can feel him at his shoulder but he still doesn’t avert his gaze. “Please, put down the sword.”
Arthur shakes his head, trying to keep his sword steady as the blade trembles. “You heard what my mother said!” He can feel the tears on his face but he ignores them. His own emotions don’t matter right now when all that he can think of is his mother; gentle and loving and innocent. “After everything he has done, do you believe he deserves to live? He executes those who use magic, and yet he used it himself to end a life!” He speaks to his father now. “You have caused so much suffering and so much pain! I will put an end to that.”
It feels as though he’s been woken from a warm slumber with a bucket of ice water dumped over his head and he’s been forced out of his place of comfort so suddenly that he’s forgotten how to breathe. He feels like an idiot for only seeing this now when in hindsight it seems so obvious.
“You will,” Merlin says and even through his own tears, Arthur can hear the emotion in Merlin’s own voice. “You will end it all, I believe that. But killing your father now, like this-” Arthur doesn’t have to see him to know that he’s shaking his head desperately. “-that will only cause you more pain.”
“You don’t know that,” Arthur lies.
“Yes, I do.”
Arthur thinks of his uncle Tristain, who knew Uther had a hand in his sister’s death and tried to avenge her, he thinks of Tom, Gwen, Mordred, Edwin, Morgause. He thinks of his mother and the pain he feels now and he knows that nothing could ever feel worse than this.
He lets his blade fall down slightly, the point resting over Uther’s unarmoured heart and he takes a slow breath, willing his hands to steady as he prepares himself.
“Arthur, please.”
He ignores Uther’s final pleas, he tries to calm his heart, just as he teaches his knights. Breathe in, breathe out, between one heartbeat and the next-
“Arthur if not for you, then for Morgana!” Merlin tries, “he’s the closest thing to a parent she has left. Has she not lost enough?”
Arthur can practically see the optimistic light that shines in Morgana’s eyes and the brightness of her smile. After all her years in mourning for her father and for a mother she never knew, Arthur sees the happiness she’s fought for. And she has fought.
Arthur’s sword falls down to his side, his arm aching painfully at the weight of their fight and he sees the way his father sags back against his throne, relief flooding through his whole body and behind him, Arthur hears Merlin exhale heavily.
He takes a step back from Uther, having to put some distance between them to remove the temptation he feels to finish this once and for all, damn anyone else's feelings.
“Arthur, listen-”
Arthur brings his sword back up again so quickly it whistles as it glides through the air, silencing Uther in a heartbeat at the threat alone. “I am done listening to you,” he says, his voice wavering with the anger that burns inside of him, “if I kill you now, in cold blood then I am no better than you are. But do not think for a second that this is over. I will ensure my mother and all of the people of Camelot have justice.”
Uther’s eyes widen fractionally and that slight flinch of fear is all that Arthur needs to see before he turns around, unable to look at the tears on Merlin’s cheeks or the horror on Gaius’ face and the shock on Leon’s as he manages to bow Arthur out of the room. At any other time, Arthur would note the way that Sir Leon - who upholds the knight's code and rules of the royal court as though his life depends on it - turns his back on the king and leaves the room without dismissal.
Arthur cannot imagine what he looks like right now, as he storms up through the castle, shirt torn from his father’s blade, tears shining on his skin and sword still in hand but it’s enough of a picture that people jump out of the way for him until he shoves open the door to his chambers. Throwing his sword down on his table as he passes with little care and the weight of it seems to pull all of the adrenaline out of his system with it and he stops short in the middle of his room. His feet feel rooted to the stone underneath him, his body too heavy to move as the entire day seems to hit him all at once. Without the adrenaline to keep him going every muscle in his body trembles and he has to catch himself on a chair as his knees give way.
“Arthur-”
“Get out.” Arthur’s voice comes out harsher than he intended it to as he struggles to hold onto whatever control he has left.
Merlin seems to consider it for a second before he murmurs a quiet. “Yes, Sire.” And as Arthur hears the gentle click of the door closing behind him, every ounce of strength he had left abandons him and he crumbles down to the ground, a choked sob breaking out of his throat.
-oOo-
Gwen rolls her eyes as she finishes telling Morgana about the man at the market and Morgana laughs at her exasperated expression. Knowing that for the most part, as long as they were respectful, Gwen finds men who try their chances more amusing than anything else.
“Well. That's what happens when-” Morgana’s words stop short as the door to her chambers crashes open and both her and Gwen shoot up to their feet as Merlin barrels inside and Morgana likes Merlin a great deal but she thinks him having to knock is not asking a lot. “Merlin, what on Earth do you think you’re do-”
“It’s Arthur.”
Morgana shuts her mouth, worry flooding through her annoyance as she frowns. She knows the two of them had snuck off against Uther’s wishes to meet the Lady Morgause who is almost definitely a sorcerer.
“What’s happened?”
Merlin’s shoulders heave as he tries to catch his breath and from his dishevelled appearance it looks as though he’s sprinted across the entire castle. “He tried to kill Uther,” he says and whatever Morgana thought he was going to say, it wasn’t that. “He-he-Uther killed Ygraine, using magic!”
Morgana recoils in surprise.
“What?” Gwen gasps, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in surprise.
Morgana turns away, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion as her mind reels with everything she knows about Ygraine. She wasn’t even two years old when Arthur was born and Ygraine died. After that, Uther had practically banned the mention of her name in court but she never thought it was because he had a hand in her death. Morgana reaches out for the jug of wine on the table, filling the nearest goblet to the brim and downs the lot of it before she takes a breath and turns back to Merlin.
“Take me to him,” she instructs, “and tell me everything.”
A look of relief washes over Merlin’s face and Morgana can hardly imagine what condition Arthur is in right now. Merlin nods and makes a slight gesture for Morgana to walk with him and she and Gwen follow after him.
As they rush through the corridors, thankfully mostly empty given the late time, Merlin tells them everything that has happened. From Morgause requesting Arthur visit her, to her using magic to bring forth Ygraine’s spirit that told Arthur the truth of his conception. That it was Uther who went to Nimeuh, asking her to use magic to give him a son and heir and that Nimeuh warned him of the price. A life for a life.
“And she can be trusted?” Gwen asks, a little warily but not defensive, “this Morgause, her magic is true?”
Merlin nods. “Yes,” he says, certain. Morgana’s fingers brush over the silver bracelet on her wrist briefly. If both Merlin and Arthur trust her, so does she.
“What did Uther say?” she asks, more curious than looking for his defence as they turn down the corridor for Arthur’s chambers. She half expects to find guards outside of his door but the corridor is deserted.
“I don’t know what he said before I got there,” he says, “but he was just begging Arthur to not kill him.”
“Uther,” Morgana says, “begging. Huh.”
For all the things she’s known Uther for in her lifetime, begging is not it.
They reach Arthur’s door and Morgana reaches out, her hand resting on the handle.
“Morgana,” Merlin says quietly, “he swore to get justice for his mother and all the people of Camelot. I’ve never seen him like this before.”
Morgana nods slightly. “Wait out here,” she says and pushes the door open.
She’s not quite certain what she’s expecting to find but as she closes the door gently behind her, she sees Arthur’s sword hazardously hanging off of the table. Fruit is all across the floor, the bowl several feet away like he’s thrown it all and Morgana finds Arthur himself behind one of the chairs, crumpled in a heap as his whole body shakes with uncontained sobs.
Morgana has only heard the briefest history of what’s happened today, but anger burns up inside of her at anyone who has caused Arthur to be in this state.
She steps forward slowly, reaching out to rest her hand on Arthur’s shoulder but he doesn’t even seem to notice her touch.
“Arthur,” she murmurs, lowering herself down to her knees next to him and the only indication she gets that he knows she’s there is the way he leans into her touch. As he does, Morgana curls her arms around him like she would when they were children, drawing him close to her chest; she doesn’t shush him but just lets him cry. This is all the confirmation she needs to know the truth in Merlin’s tale.
She rests her forehead against the crown of his head and presses a soft kiss against his hair before she starts humming, a gentle tune that lingers in her mind whenever she thinks of her own mother. When they were both children, secluded from everyone else in the kingdom, protected behind Camelot’s guards, they would sneak into each other’s rooms at night, looking for whatever comfort they could find in this cold castle.
She closes her eyes as she hums, trying to offer him whatever comfort she can, unable to imagine what it feels like to learn something groundbreaking about her parents and her very existence. Though her mind falters over that thought. She herself has learnt something pretty groundbreaking about her existence over the past few months.
Morgana doesn’t know how long they sit there together, she gives Arthur as long as he needs, knowing that aside from perhaps Merlin, he would trust nobody else to see him like this. When exhaustion seems to override his grief, his sobs slowly subside and he leans heavier against her and she brings one of her hands up, letting her fingers brush through his hair, nails moving gently against his scalp in a way she knows brings him comfort.
“He killed her,” Arthur whispers eventually, unable to manage anything more than that and Morgana closes her eyes against her own tears that threaten to fall.
“I know,” she says.
“If I were never born, she would still be here.”
Morgana opens her eyes again as she shakes her head, refusing to let Arthur go down that particular path. “Uther did this,” she says firmly, “not you. This isn’t your fault.”
“But-”
“Uther made the deal. He knew what it would cost, a life for a life,” she says gentler, “this isn’t now and wasn’t then your fault. The blame lies purely with him.”
Arthur sniffs wetly. “That’s what she said,” he says and it takes Morgana a second to realise he’s talking about his mother. After all, Arthur has never had the opportunity to see, let alone speak to his mother before today.
Morgana sighs. "Then if not me, please listen to her."
Arthur is silent for several minutes and Morgana doesn't interrupt him, hoping he's taking her and his mother's request on board.
"I won't protect him any longer," he says eventually, his voice still quiet. "I will protect Camelot and its people, but not him. And when I'm king, things will be different. Very different for everyone."
Morgana wants to ask if that includes those with magic but she knows right now isn't the time, but a small glimmer of hope lights up inside of her. She's long wished for the end of Uther’s reign but only now can she picture Arthur on the throne, ruling Camelot not with fear and an axe looming over everyone's heads, but with compassion and justice.
For the first time since her realisations about herself, she truly wants to tell Arthur, not fearing his reaction would be like his father's. She knows this is not the time though. Now is the time for Arthur to process life changing information about his parents and he doesn't need any from her now as well.
"Come on," she says gently, nudging him slightly with her shoulder, "this stone floor is too cold to sit on any longer. You have a perfectly good bed over there."
Arthur wipes his face on the end of his sleeve and doesn't protest, pushing himself up off of the floor, holding out a hand to help her up despite his current condition.
"Go," she says, "change into something that doesn't smell like a horse and I'll get us some water."
Too tired to complain that she's bossing him around, he goes and does as she says. As she turns away she sees him pull his shirt off over his head but not before her eyes catch the dark red marks across his torso, already bruising from his fight with Uther.
She goes over to the pitcher on the sideboard and when she finds it empty she moves over to open the door. Sitting together on the stone floor opposite the doorway Gwen and Merlin are huddled together, exactly as Morgana thought they would be, with Gwen's head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. As soon as Merlin registers her opening the door, snapping him out of whatever far off place his mind had taken him, he scrambles up to his feet quickly, not caring as he dislodges Gwen in the process.
"Is he okay?" he asks and a slight smile touches Morgana’s lips; she's glad that Arthur has someone who cares for him as much as Merlin does.
"As well as can be expected," she says, "would one of you mind getting us some water, please?"
Merlin looks down at the jug she holds like he's wishing he could fill it with water just by thought and not have to leave his watch outside Arthur's rooms.
"I'll go," Gwen says, pushing herself up off the floor, brushing out her skirts as she steps over to them and as she takes the jug from her, her fingers linger over Morgana's for a second longer than necessary. Morgana appreciates the touch, wanting to reach out and hold her close despite everything else that's happening. Gwen smiles at her slightly sympathetically, like she knows exactly what she's thinking and she takes the jug from her, hurrying off down the corridor.
"How is he?" Merlin asks a second time and Morgana glances back at Arthur, still hidden behind the changing screen.
"Hurt," she says honestly, "I've never seen him like this either."
Merlin swallows and Morgana sees the worry shining in his eyes as he stares past her, towards where they know Arthur is. His eyes drift down to the mess Arthur’s made of the room.
"Let me come and tidy up at least?" he asks, seeming desperate for anything to do and Morgana sighs.
"Alright," she allows, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. "But he might not want you here."
Merlin nods, but doesn't seem to be paying her the slightest bit of attention as he slips past her into Arthur’s chambers and moves to start picking the bowl and fruit up off the floor, glancing off in Arthur's direction every few seconds.
Morgana closes the door and steps back into the room, moving Arthur's sword onto the table properly so it wouldn't injure anybody who walks a little too close. She casts a single glance across the space and when she doesn't see its scabbard she just leaves it on the table.
She sees Arthur step out from behind the changing screen and disappear back further into the room towards his bed and then she hears him drop one of the curtains down the side of his four poster.
Morgana uses the time until Gwen returns to pull her long hair down over one shoulder, letting her fingers work through the tangles before plaiting it loosely down her side as she doesn’t think she’ll be returning to her chambers anytime soon to properly prepare for bed.
Once Merlin’s finished picking the fruit bowl up, he moves to Arthur’s sword, he takes a rag out of a drawer and wipes the blade down carefully and for the first time Morgana sees the blood dried onto the point. What condition is Uther in now? Once Merlin’s cleaned the blade, he moves over to the cupboard, taking another scabbard out and safely putting the sword away, leaning it up against the side of the wall before closing up the door. She watches as he fiddlles to find the key clearly just looking for something to do.
Gwen returns quicker than Morgana anticipated, knocking on the door softly before Merlin admits her inside and Morgana is grateful to see not only a pitcher of water on the tray she carries but a large plate of breads, cheeses and ham, easy food to eat when you don’t feel like eating.
“Thank you, Gwen,” Morgana says, coming over to the table to pour Arthur a goblet of water as Merlin starts decanting some of the food onto a smaller plate for him.
“There’s talk all around the castle,” Gwen says in a hushed voice, “the king is furious. He’s sending out knights to find Morgause.”
Morgana frowns, of course Uther would kill the person who tells the truth rather than holding himself accountable for his own crimes.
“She’s a High Priestess of the Old Religion,” Merlin says just as low, “she won’t be found unless she wants to be.”
Morgana feels a small amount of relief at that, Morgause had been nothing but kind to them when she was in Camelot and she’d told Arthur an incredibly important truth with little regard to her own safety and Morgana can respect her for that. “Did she say anything else?” she asks curiously and Merlin’s eyebrows furrow slightly.
“Like what?”
She shakes her head slightly. “I don’t know,” she says, “I was just wondering.” She finds her fingers ghosting over the details on her bracelet again and she moves her hand away quickly. The feeling of knowing Morgause somehow still lingers inside of her.
“I saw Leon as well,” Gwen says as Morgana goes to pick up the food and drink for Arthur but she stops when she sees the worried frown on Gwen’s soft features. “The king had ordered him to wait outside when Arthur went to confront his father but he heard everything through the door.”
Morgana sighs, they’ve known Sir Leon from when they were children, he is without a doubt one of the loyalest and most noble of any of the Knights of Camelot, she knows that he will not say a word to anyone about what he heard them fight about.
“He asked me to pass on a message,” Gwen goes on quietly, surprisingly a small smile touches her lips, “he asked me to tell you and Arthur, that he will always be loyal to you and to the future king and that he will gladly lay down his life to uphold that oath.”
Despite now being Arthur’s best knight, he was Uther’s before that and both Leon and his father have been a part of Uther’s inner circle at court for as long as Morgana knows. She finds it strangely comforting to know that someone so close to Uther isn’t as blind as their king.
“Give him our thanks,” Morgana says sincerely, “you two go home for the night, we’ll be able to manage ourselves now.”
“Thank you, Milady,” Gwen says, but her eyes drift over to the curtain that obscures their view from Arthur, “if you need anything, just send word and I’ll come back.”
Morgana smiles. “Thank you, Gwen.”
Gwen gives a slight nod before she takes her leave and Morgana turns to Merlin who just stares back at her with a flat expression and she knows that there’s no way she can get him to bed as well so she just shakes her head. “I’m going to stay with him, help yourself to the food, he won’t eat it all,” she tells him and he just nods slightly. He moves over to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and sits down, staring down into the flames, his eyes distant. Morgana sighs, knowing he will sit in that uncomfortable chair until morning, keeping vigil over Arthur without fail and she turns back towards Arthur, walking around his bed to the open side. He’s lying on his side, his tired eyes staring unseeing past her and out of the window.
“Arthur,” she tries softly but she doesn’t even get so much as a blink in response. She sets the cup and plate on the bed side table and slips her feet out of her shoes, gathering her skirts up so she can crawl up on the bed next to him, leaning back against his headboard as she reaches out to brush her fingers through his hair. He jerks back at the touch, blinking up at her in confusion as though he hadn’t noticed her there until that moment.
“Here,” she says, reaching back for a buttered piece of bread, breaking it in half, she passes half of it down to Arthur and takes a bite of the other half.
Arthur stares at the bread for several seconds before he sighs and pushes himself up a little more, taking it from her hand to nibble on the edge, still looking barely with it.
Neither of them say a word and Morgana doesn’t push him, just keeps passing him small pieces of food, until the plate is empty and only then does she nudge him to lay back down. She settles next to him and she almost feels like they’re children again, lying on top of the blankets, drawing comfort from the only person they can rely on. Though it's not quite true now; she has Gwen, just as Arthur has Merlin.
“All those times,” he says just as Morgana is beginning to think that he’s just going to stare out of the window all night, “that you stood up to him and he hurt you and I just… did nothing.”
“Arthur-”
“I’m sorry.”
Morgana closes her eyes briefly and sighs. “There were just as many times where he hurt you and I did nothing,” she says, “I don’t think we should blame ourselves for those now. Not when we’re both going to do something about it, together.”
“What though?” Arthur says, “he’s still king and he’s hardly going to abdicate.”
“I don’t know what the answer is,” she replies, “but we’re not going to find it tonight. Sleep now and we will figure it out in the morning.”
Arthur sighs heavily but he doesn’t argue and after a couple more minutes, he closes his eyes and falls quickly asleep, all the exhaustion from the day catching up with him.