Archive of Our Own ^beta

"How many times are you going to risk war for this boy?" Uther asked, staring listlessly out his window, at his Kingdom. What once was his kingdom. A lifetime of grief and anger, fighting tooth and nail to keep it safe — all falling apart before him, the children he raised embracing all he'd resisted. Taking all he'd built to crush it beneath their hands with glee. And now, Arthur was risking war for the boy who'd started it all. 

Uther would gladly watch the boy burn were it in his power. 

Perhaps that was why Arthur took that power from him in the first place. The near civil war, the near war with Essetir, and now the war with Caerleon. Caerleon — simply because the sorcerer had been taken as a slave. A kinder fate than what Uther preferred, but so long as magic was ground under the heel of royalty he was amiable. 

The Kingdom of Caerleon was a fierce ally in the war against magic, and now Camelot — a safe haven from the evils of magic for decades — was going to war with it for a sorcerer. 

War. 

All for the love of the boy. 

Uther turned to his son, the cracks in his heart deepening at what he saw. 

Arthur stared defiantly at his father, chin jutted out proudly in a way that reminded Uther of Ygraine, of Vivienne, of Morgana. "How many times will the world force my hand?" Arthur rebutted. "I warned them, I marked Merlin as mine, as family — he carries the de Bois family crest, they knew what they were doing. By now almost every kingdom knows what he means to me. To not go to war now would be appearing weak willed." 

Then he walked forward, young and strong and determined, and Uther remembered feeling like that. Loving like that. He'd gone to war for Ygraine too. He'd won Camelot for her. 

"And they don't get to have him," Arthur hissed, eyes flashing dangerously, Uther's wrathful madness reflected in his feral expression. "They don't get to use him, hurt him, chain him." He snarled, "Not when he is so good. Not when he is mine." 

If nothing else, Uther understood that. 

Understood Arthur's love, his need to keep what was his next to him, safe and confined, untouched by the cruelties of the world. The hatred towards the uncaring world that dared to harm, dared to try and possess what was his. The absolute need for the world to know that the object of his desires was his to claim, his to protect, his to control of the fate of for the better. 

No, Uther understood love. 

Even if the source of it was revolting. A peasant farmer, a boy, a servant, a dragonlord, a sorcerer. Uther's heart screamed at him, free him, kill the boy, rend him limb from limb then burn what remained. 

What Uther wouldn't give to see all this magnificent love and hatred centred around a politically advantageous princess. Elena, or Mithian. Even Vivian would be preferred, for all her frivolity. 

Anyone but the boy. 

Uther looked out to his kingdom again, saw only so-called 'Commoners Knights' and 'Mage Knights', his army of carefully vetted Nobility talking amiably with the lot. Preparing for war. Not against magic, but for it. 

His skin crawled and he wished Arthur had just killed him and been done with it. 

Anything to avoid watching his beloved Kingdom fall so far from its roots. The rot of Magic was strong now, even in the most strong-willed of his men. Uther looked upon his son again, and saw nothing but confirmation. No, even the strongest had fallen prey. 

"You love him." Uther said, "And that will be your downfall." 

He'd long accepted that no enchantment plagued the land. No sorcery, not even Emrys', could hold hostage the heart of an entire kingdom and fail to ensorcell the King. This was all the personal failings of those Uther trusted and loved the most. 

"No, father," Arthur said with pity, as if he thought Uther had never felt love before. Ludicrous. Uther had loved stronger and fiercer than any man before him, and any man after him. It was Arthur that could never understand. "I love him, and it will save us all."