Cries. That's all he remembered of that day, though he is not sure whose cries he remembered: the midwives' of grief, the new born's of breathing his first, the mother's of breathing her last, or his of utter despair.
Despair? Oh, yes, he was desperate to save her, as desperate as he had been for an heir, how ironic.
He did this: he killed his love, his wife, his queen. He was the one who had asked 'begged' Nimueh for an heir, whatever the cost.
The high priestess was more than happy to serve her king, to kill her queen!
She was the one accountable responsible for this! Her and her magic, her vile magic, are the ones held for the queen's murder.
She had said that there would be a price, that magic needs a life to give a life; magic took his love's life, and had used Nimueh to do so.
Magic used Nimueh's pretty face; her exotic blue eyes, lovely lips, soft fair skin to lure him, used her tender voice for him to drop his guard...then it stroked his heart, the idiot king.
No more, magic had dared to make a fool of him one too many times. He would destroy magic, The Old Religion, just as it had destroyed him: mercilessly.
Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot, would avenge his wife's death even if it was the last thing he ever did, with a great purge.
Power, this little girl had so much raw power. Her mother had named her after a bird: merlin and rightly so. Even though it was a silly name for someone like her, it suited her more than any name could: everything about her resembled birds, he, and later others would come to learn.
She was as peaceful as a dove, compassionate and gentle. She had an aura of purity to her, a heart of gold.
Her strength mirrored an eagle's. It helped her in rebelling against anyone taking advantage of her. Yes, she was a force to be reckoned with.
She was quit fast, as a falcon, physically and mentally, an advantage considering all the problems she attracts.
Alas, problems were not the only thing she attracted so strongly, but eyes too. Maybe more of men than women, with her beauty parallel to that of a peacock, she would unknowingly capture hearts.
She would sometimes resemble a raven, in her darker personality traits, always sticking to the shadows, penetrating the darkness. 'A disaster waiting to happen, to destroy everyone.' she was described.
He chuckled. Truly, she was a Pendragon.
Uther's hatred of magic was paralleled only by his hate of his mirrors: the show of his reflection, how he despised the man he'd see there.
He did not see Uther, he saw a king. A powerful king, able to make anyone do whatever he wanted, able to end a life with a word, able to start a war with an order, and that's exactly what he had done.
He had made Nimueh use her magic to please him. He had made Gorlois risk his life in an already lost battle, while he made Vivienne bear his frustrations. He had made an unsure Ygraine do whatever Nimueh said with a promise of motherhood. And all that was just to name a few.
He had taken many lives in the name of justice, even before the purge, and the executions just increased with time.
He had started plenty of wars, won some and lost some, caused much bloodshed, but it never mattered who died, what mattered was that he was proven right, and the war against magic was no exception: he saw that magic is evil, and he would do anything in his power for people to realize so too, and he would get rid of anyone who had a different logic, he would not risk his kingdom just for closed minded, or corrupted souls.
Yes, all of this was for the sake of his kingdom.
She was making great progress, nailing every test. Gone was the little scared girl and here was cold hearted queen-to-be. She became less of a sacrificial lamb and more of a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her power was unprecedented, her intelligence was unrepeatable, her beauty was one of a kind, in every way, she was unique and dangerous.
She had come a long way, but she was not ready yet. She still defied him, which resulted in pain unimaginable: he tried and tried to break her, sometimes he'd think he had, but she would just take it all with a dead grin and an unsettling laugh.
He'd think she had lost it, but then her smarts would make an appearance, she became what could only be described as a mad genius.
No matter, the more isolated she became, the easier it would be to convince her to harm, after all she wouldn't be able to sympathize with them, and they'd be aliens to her: monsters killing her kind.
Uther created his bane in his quest to kill it. Life was like this sometimes: a terrible prank.
Uther was pleased: Arthur was excelling in his training and Morgana was settling down just fine in Camelot, things were looking up.
Arthur was just ten years old and already a fine swordsman, a great warrior. The knight in charge of training him had said that he would make a wonderful leader, a great king, even if his tutors disagreed, but who cares about etiquette, history, diplomacy and all those nonsense, it would not matter if he died because he wasn't able to defend himself.
Morgana was also excelling in her studies, despite all she'd been through: she moved to Camelot more than a year ago, after her mother had fallen ill; the poor thing was suffering from nightmares since she arrived. As a reward for her efforts, Uther had allowed her train alongside Arthur, she was better than him! Uther would chuckle; she was so competitive: just like her father.
She escaped! That little leech had tricked her way out of his clutches: The Barnsil Fortress.
It would not make any difference, this is but a minor inconvenience, but he would find and execute his plan; to hell with her compliance!