Before The Dawn Came

Chapter 1

Tainted Gold

A/N ~ Come with me now, on a journey through the years... Well that was dramatic. I felt like a fic like this needed to be made. So, hence, 'Before The Dawn Came', a fanfiction showing what happened before our beloved quartet of angst. The first generation of a quartet of angst! Aka, Uther, Ygraine, Gorlois & Vivienne. Eventual baby!Morgana and baby!Arthur. Hopefully not as big a fail as some other 'epic' fics I've tried.

Enjoy! Reviews would make my day, and get you virtual ice cream cookies =)

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Uther felt the glory surging through the great hall, the energy of a new era, the relief of a war gone stale. The cheers would echo through his mind for all his life. Uther, Uther, Uther. Long live the king, long live the king. His health, his life, his days. His kingdom. His crown.

Heart pounding, hard as in the glamorous gore and terror of the battles that had carried him here, head ringing, he felt himself search the crowds for Gorlois. He found him, soon enough, at the front. War had hardened his would-be brother. His dark eyes sparkled with joy, dark hair brushed and cleaned and held back, smile honest. But the scars were there, if you knew where to look. And Uther did. Somewhere deep in the soul that once laughed at everything, always had a jest to share, were now somewhat stonier after the first taste of war. And of course, there was the scar, marbled, twisting pink around his best friend's temple, where the blade had struck him in the Battle of Essetir.

Strange to think it was all over now. Uther still had yet to catch his breath. And now somehow... He'd ended up king. Was it really the goal all along? Did he really ever believe he'd get here?

He would be king forevermore. He would govern these people, their lives rested now in his hands. He was king.

Uther didn't even try to suppress the grin. King. Long live the king.

Camelot was his. This sweeping hall was his. This castle was his. And his sons after him, providing he found a wife and had some. All in good time, of course, he was still young, too young for the crown, almost, and he still wanted to live.

"People of Camelot," He declared, on the brink of laughing at the surrealism of it all. "I, Uther Pendragon, from this day forth, and all my days to come, do swear to govern you, shelter you, and rule over you with a steady hand and a just heart, so long as I shall live. This war that has plagued you for so long is ended!"

An enormous cheer erupted from the surging crowds, filling the high arcing roof with its ecstasy.

When the commoners had disbanded from where they squashed together in Camelot's many courtyards and lanes, close as they could get to their castle and their new, handsome young king, they would celebrate. Rejoicing at the close of bloodshed, and at a new start.

Uther meant to celebrate too.

Before he started enforcing his new laws, he meant to celebrate more than he'd ever done so in his life. He was king now. He could afford it. In honour of the newfound peace he'd won, Uther had planned days of feasts and dances. You were only young once, as he said.

When the masses left cheering, Gorlois remained behind.

Uther jumped down off of his throne and broke out into a massive grin, clapping his friend into a gripping hug.

"We did it, Pendragon." He said, a hint of disbelief in his shocked, excited tone.

"We did." Uther agreed, equally amazed, pulling away, breathless, smiling.

"We really did it. We won. We won a war."

And some strange force of unbelievable jubilant elation compelled them to laugh, laugh unstoppably.

"You're a king now, Pendragon." Gorlois grinned. "Just don't be expecting me to call you m'lord and bow when you spit. You'll always be the man who spilt his wine on Old Lady Dunsen to me."

"Oh, stop. She's probably dead now anyway, the old bat. Gorlois... Did I ever thank you? Properly? For everything."

"Uther. You don't have to. We may not be relations but, brothers, we agreed, forever. Through every trial. I've helped you win that crown on your fat head, so just bloody well try and keep it there. We won."

"Gorlois. You know what I mean. You've been a true friend, fought for me, taken wounds, risked your life, all for me. Even if I hardly ever take it, you give me the best advice." He laughed softly. "You shall be a valued member of my court. Would you do me the great honour of being the first of the knights of Camelot?"

Gorlois studied him for a moment. "Of course. Now you should get some rest before the festivities begin tonight."

And he strode out, on the brink of running and dancing for joy, leaving Uther alone in the vast empty hall, but for the dust motes swirling in the golden light. He lifted his crown from his head and felt a strange relief he didn't think he needed. It was a heavy thing, in more ways than one, he feared he may come to think.

Rich, elaborate gold, majestically worked with such finery Uther could not have dreamed of as the mere lord he'd once been. So long he had risked everything for this crown, for what it signified. And yet... This thing weighed down his hands would be in the hands of someone else now, if he'd lost. He'd reached it, climbing up on the blood of his men, of others.

Battle was an honour, a rush, something Uther loved and feared at the same time, with a burning passion, and yet, was there an aspect of this that felt somehow... wrong? Like it was tainted, this gold, with the blood of lords and knights and peasants alike who had died for him in this war. He shook that thought off. Gorlois was right – Gorlois, somehow, was always right – he should rest.

He wouldn't, of course. He had to prepare himself.

Tonight, he swore, the festivities would run till dawn.