Summary: A brief walk through time revealing the major events in Uther's life, his past loves and the real family ties between Morgause, Morgana and Arthur.

Rating: T for some violence in later chapters

Disclaimer: I don't own anything… obviously

Spoilers: This is technically a prequel so shouldn't spoil anything – but you do need to have watched at least a little Merlin to get the references!


Chapter 1: Deathbed

A dim light flickered eerily up the walls of the darkened bed chamber, the air thick with incense and the low murmurings of the priestess. Courtiers, advisors and noblemen stood respectfully around the prone form of the King, laid out, as he had been these last three months, on his regal canopied bed, carefully ensconced in thick blankets. There was a strange feeling of anticipation and sadness mingling in the hearts of the onlookers as Gaius, the newly appointed court physician, signalled quietly that there was nothing more he could do.

"Is he here?" asked the King in a rasping voice, barely above a whisper, his breathing shallow and laboured.

"He is my Lord," confirmed Vortigern, his closest and most trusted advisor. Turning from where he had been crouching over the King, in order to hear any last words he may utter, his eyes sought out the youngest member of the sombre group. Vortigern's features were long and pinched and his clipped, tapered beard did nothing to soften his appearance. He raised his arm now and with long narrow fingers, gestured for the boy, not quite a man, to approach the bed.

Obediently, the boy knelt quickly next to the King and, taking his hand gently in his own, he spoke softly in his ear, "I am here Father."

"Uther…" breathed the King with obvious joy, his sightless eyes straining to catch a glimpse of him, "I have always been proud of you my boy…" he paused to catch his breath, "Now Constans will rule in my place and you must make him proud also."

"I will Father," Uther assured him earnestly, fiercely swallowing his emotion at the nearness of his Father's death.

"Aurelius also will make a fine commander for the Knights…" again, exhaustion overtook the King and he struggled to regain his breath.

"Please Father, do not trouble yourself-"

"Listen to me Uther," interjected the King, a scarcely seen strength re-entering his eyes, "I know that you are third in line for the throne… and as such may never wear the crown… but you must find your place in the Kingdom…" a quiet hush fell as all strained to hear what the King would say.

The silence stretched on and for a moment it seemed as though the King has already begun his journey to Avalon. Then his eyes flickered once more and his hoarse voice struggled out into the room, "I know you can sometimes be impatient and headstrong child, so it is my wish that you marry a woman who will compliment your strengths… Vortigern has made the arrangements… you are to be betrothed to Ygraine de Bois…"

"Betrothed?..." echoed Uther in surprise. This was my Father's last wish? He thought to himself, disappointment rising in his throat. Am I not to be given some position of command like my Brother? Not even a dukedom to rule as a vassal for Constans?

Constantine II, the imminently departing present ruler of Albion, closed his eyes once more and loosened his grip on his youngest son, signalling to him that he had spoken all he wished. Uther rose awkwardly and stepped back from his Father's side, rejoining his two older brothers at the foot of the bed.

Constans, the eldest and next in line for the throne, stood a clear six inches taller than Uther. Just under ten years his senior, Constans had spent his life in preparation for the Kingship, first as commander of the Knights, then officially becoming Crown Prince; his experience in battle and his wisdom making him loved by his men and the common people alike. His serious blue eyes stared unwaveringly at his Father, the responsibility of the task he would finally be taking up weighing heavily on his shoulders.

To Constans' left stood Aurelius; second in line to the throne and newly appointed commander of the Royal Knights. His piercing green eyes peered out from beneath his jet black hair as he watched Vortigern fawn over the elderly King; there had never been any love lost between the two and seeing him so close to his Father in his final moments irked him tremendously.

As the minutes dragged on Constantine was no longer able to open his eyes and he slipped into a fitful sleep, his breathing becoming more and more shallow, his skin turning a pallid shade of grey, until finally it could be heard no more. Gaius stepped up to the royal bed, carefully felt the King's wrist then lowered his ear to his mouth to check for signs of breathing. Satisfied, he slowly straightened himself and turned to the expectant crowd.

"He has passed…" he said quietly.

Immediately the cry was taken up by Vortigern and the fellow courtiers and noblemen lining the walls, "The King is dead! Long live the King!"

It seemed to Uther that he could hear the bells almost instantaneously ringing out over the city, as if they had known in advance when this moment would arrive. The echoed cry of "The King is dead!" could be heard rebounding from street to street until the air was alive with the news.

Vortigern turned from the old King, as Gaius respectfully lifted the white sheet that had been tucked around him up over his head and approached the new King of Albion. Kneeling obsequiously before him he affected a deep bow, spreading his arms wide in submission, "My King," he said with great reverence and immediately the other men in the room all followed his example, showing their allegiance to his rule.

"Vortigern, you have served my Father well," said Constans gravely, "You may retire for the night; it has been a long few months for us all I think. I will remain with my Father tonight."

"I also shall remain," said Aurelius stepping up beside his elder brother.

"And I," echoed Uther with determination, unable to take his eyes from the misshapen form beneath the sheet in front of him.

"My Lord and my Princes, it is a noble thing indeed to see such loyalty to our beloved ruler," replied Vortigern, bowing his head again before the royal family, "However I hope it would not be deemed impertinent for me to advise you as I have done your Father these last fifteen years?"

"You may speak," said Constans curtly.

"Tomorrow we must proceed with your coronation," replied Vortigern, inclining his head beseechingly, "and I believe it may benefit the people to see their new King well rested and focused on his new duties… in my humble opinion of course."

Constans considered these words for a moment, appraising his new advisor with a cool look, before turning to his two brothers, "Come Aurelius, Uther, let us to our beds – Vortigern is right, we must prepare for tomorrow. Our staying here can serve no purpose to our Father now."

One by one the three brothers exited the royal bed chamber and made their way back down the corridors to their own respective rooms.

Uther closed his door behind him with a sigh, pulling off his boots dejectedly as he sank onto his bed. Sebring, his serving man, had already laid his night shirt out for him and turned down his bed and the young Prince was quick to crawl gratefully under the covers.

As his eyes began to close he tried not to dwell on his rising disappointment at not having been granted more position and authority by his late Father. He determined that he would acquit himself well over the coming months and his brother would be sure to make up for his Father's oversight. With a sigh he rolled over and thought of his betrothal to Ygraine; he had only met her once, years ago, at a function his Father and hosted to honour the great houses of Albion. He had been just sixteen and at the time more focused on his swordsmanship than anything else. Still… he remembered her beauty and decided that marriage could have been a much worse proclamation - thinking with a shudder of the match his Father had arranged for poor Aurelius. Some artists were simply not to be trusted when it came to depicting foreign princesses, he decided.

As his mind wandered toward an uneasy slumber, he dreamed of great crowds bowing at his feet, their cries of adoration filling his ears, feet stamping the ground in applaud…

"Uther, quickly you must stir yourself immediately!" shouted a voice through the darkness, mingling itself in the Prince's sleep addled brain so that when he peered at the source of this voice his eyes were full of confusion.

"Aurelius? Wha-… what's going on?"

At once his brother was by his side, lifting his covers off and dragging him bodily from the bed, "You must dress at once!" Aurelius hissed, throwing the clothes that Uther had discarded a few hours ago back at his head, "And gird on your sword, there's no time to lose."

Panicked adrenalin coursed through Uther's veins as he fumbled with the fastenings of his jacket, hastily bucking his sword to his side as he stared uneasily at his brother who was stood with his ear pressed close to the door. Muffled sounds of voices and the pounding of feet could be heard intermittently and Uther slipped quietly to his side, anxious to know what had happened in the few short hours that he had slept.

Aurelius reached out a hand and grasped Uther by the jerkin, pulling him closer to him, "Constans is murdered," he said bluntly, Uther's eyes growing wide with shock at this news, "Vortigern has betrayed us both and now I fear we must flee the Kingdom or else face a similar fate."

"Murdered?" repeated Uther dumbfounded, his mind unable to process the information, "But he is King!"

"Not until the coronation tomorrow," corrected his Brother grimly, holding up his hand to silence the younger man as he eased the door open once more and peered into the darkness. Satisfied, he turned again to Uther, "Come brother we are not safe here, Vortigern has turned the castle on its head. There is no telling what loyalties we still hold."

Anger broiled darkly beneath the young Prince's skin, impotent rage that so callus an act could force them, the rightful heirs, to flee for their lives like whipped dogs.

"Stand not amazed man, come on – follow close to me," urged Aurelius impatiently as he set off down the passageway, moving stealthily amongst the shadows.

Taking a deep breath Uther followed in his path, not stopping to look back at the room he had called his own since infancy. As he melted into the darkness after his brother he ran from the castle, from the city… from everything he had previously known.

More shouts could be heard now and torches of fire lit up the sky at sporadic intervals throughout the township of the castle. Aurelius ran quickly to a secluded stable and inside, Sebring and Colwyn, his own manservant, silently handed them each the reigns to a saddled mount before gathering their own horses and following them into the street. In a few tense moments they were out of the castle and into the village proper, their hooves pounding into the dry dirt as they put distance between themselves and the castle walls. Uther began to breath more easily as that distance increased, but still on they pressed, ever further into the countryside, into the darkness… and into the icy arms of the unknown.

*****


A/N Ok – so I know that a couple of people have done some fics on Uther's back story but its something that I just can't get out of my head so this is my take on the matter. Oh and when I say the "Real" family ties between Morgause, Morgana and Arthur…. I mean of course the ones that exist in my imagination :) Enjoy…