Title: Just like Her
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to people who are more fortunate than I.
Rating: K+
A/N: Agravaine may turn out to be a completely different character, so I wanted to give birth to this story before my view on him could change.
Just like Her
The boy looks like Ygraine.
It's not just the blond hair and the blue eyes. There are more fair-haired lads in the Kingdom, and Agravaine's looked into his fair share of blue eyes over the years. Rather, it's what lies behind those eyes that captures his attention; the kindness and compassion hidden by a mask of arrogance that makes him catch his breath.
Ygraine used to look like that; used to gaze upon other people with such gentleness on her face.
At first glance, the Prince could easily be mistaken for an Uther duplicate, for the King can be found in the boy's features and in his manners. Yet there's something about the Prince that sets him apart; an inner strength he didn't inherit from his father: the ability to aspire loyalty through trust and kindness, not the installation of fear.
It unsettles Agravaine, seeing his beloved sister in his nephew, the nephew he's come to betray.
He never doubted that Arthur would welcome him with open arms. With the exception of his father and sister, the boy had not known of relatives of his who still lived. With the King growing weaker by the day, Agravaine knew he could catch the Prince at his weakest and most desperate hour. He needed guidance; a helping hand. Who better to come forward and fill his father's shoes than his lost uncle, Agravaine?
But the boy's reaction to his arrival startled him, made him pause and reconsider his intentions.
Arthur had not just been relieved to see him; he'd been overjoyed, happy and emotional. How tender was the expression on his face when he asked about his mother for the first time, how genuine the emotion in his voice when he told Agravaine he was sorry about his father's actions. He'd apologized on his father's behalf repeatedly, repaying a debt he didn't even know existed in more ways than one by doing so.
Now, knowing his nephew better than he would have liked, Agravaine is admittedly torn. Torn between doing what he set out to do and what his heart is telling him.
But how does one listen to a heart that's broken? How can one trust a heart that is no longer whole?
Morgana came to him one night, knowing he'd vowed never to set foot in Camelot again, but also knowing his hate for Uther surpassed his feelings on lesser, less significant things. She told him about her plans, some mad, some clever, and asked him for his help. She needed an insider, someone who could move freely throughout Camelot, who could overhear Arthur's plans and, most importantly, gain a place in the Prince's heart, a heart that was still bleeding in the knowledge his father and sister had lied to him and betrayed him.
Agravaine, against his better judgment, accepted her proposal, told her he'd do exactly what she wanted him to. He should have seen then what he knows now.
Morgana possesses Uther's ruthlessness, his iron conscience and his fierce determination. She's her father's daughter in almost every possible way; more like Uther than she cares to admit, certainly more like Uther than Arthur Pendragon, the King's precious son. Morgana is everything Agravaine despises about the Pendragons, everything he once swore he'd fight against until the bitter end, for surely, the world is better off without people who close off their hearts in order to reign like they think, or make themselves think, their people need them to.
Arthur is Ygraine's son, is like his mother in more ways than one. He's this Kingdom's only hope at this point; the only person who can lead Camelot out of the dark and into a Golden Age, an Age for everyone: those with and those without special abilities, those with blackness in their hearts and those who are able to resist temptation. And those who are still undecided, who do not yet know what to do with the incredible power they've been given. Yes, Arthur's Camelot could be a place for all; the balance would be restored under his rule.
But Agravaine's made his choice. He chose Morgana that night, chose the idea of revenge over the possibities of a new, stronger Camelot.
Looking at Arthur now makes Agravaine pause, think, ponder and wish for what could be, for what might be if he backs out now, leaves Camelot and tells Morgana to carry on with her plans without him.
But then he looks at Uther, the broken King, the very image of weakness and insanity, and he knows that this, even this, is not enough, that the King has not suffered nearly as much as others have because of him, that more pain must be thrown his way for Agravaine to sleep at night, to properly mourn his sister and move on, move out of this dark place and perhaps, if he can earn the right, into a brighter world where Ygraine still lives, where forgiveness still exists and where he will be forgiven for letting her son, her golden boy and Camelot's future down.
It is too late, he knows, to let go of his pain and anger now. Too much has been broken, too much has been lost.
And yet, a small part of him, a small part that can be found in his chest, safely shielded by his ribs and armor, hopes for failure, for plans gone wrong and for victory for the Prince and his common followers, the new Knights of Camelot. It's not a big part, and it feels like it's been broken and shattered into tiny pieces too many times to still exist in the past, yet it's still there, continues to beat along with the flickering hope that there will be an end to this circle of revenge, that Agravaine will not get as far as Morgana hopes he will, that he will fail in time.
And when he looks into the peculiar eyes of his nephew's manservant, eyes that almost glow golden when the light shines just so, Agravaine sometimes gets the feeling that perhaps, that barely noticeable part of his body's wish will be granted, that he will be struck down before the rest of his body gets its terrible way, and the relief that surges through his body at this thought, this forbidden pleasure, well, that can only be a sign that, if the gods will it, Ygraine will indeed be waiting for him, smiling at him, and welcoming him with open arms, won't it?
The boy looks just like Ygraine.
Agravaine observes him, drinks in his features, and waits for the day when he no longer has to look at the legacy she left behind, when her very own eyes will stare back at him, not her son's ignorant ones.
It's enough to make him go on.