A Queen's Duty
Maybe she should have hated Uther for the choice he made, for offering her life as if it belonged to him, as if she wasn't a whole person entitled to make her own decisions. And, perhaps, for a little while, she had resented him for it. In the end, she couldn't do it, not anymore.
Ygraine had known, when she accepted his proposal, that she wasn't just becoming a wife, but a Queen. She had known, even then, that she would have duties that far surpassed showering Uther with the love she felt for him. She knew she would have to stand by his side, and to help him rule. She knew she would have to give him council, and warn him of dangers. She knew she would have to attend to peace talks and treaties with badly veiled threats, and that she would need to keep her head down and her mouth shut even if she wanted to scream.
But first and foremost, she knew that her duty lie within her womb. She knew her body was no longer hers, it now belonged to Camelot. It was the vessel through which the future would be built, for its fruits would be the seeds of tomorrow's greatness. She knew, also, that they would never belong to her – her own children, flesh and blood – would always be Uther's and Camelot's, bound to a duty as strong as her own, by the accident of their birth.
It made it easier, knowing that they'd never be free, to accept that her body failed her. It made it easier to accept that she might never know the feeling of having a life inside her own belly, or a heartbeat alongside with hers. It made it easier to deal with the personal pain, because it meant nothing near to the tragedy it would be to the kingdom if she kept on failing to provide them with and heir.
She knew Uther had no personal wish for children, he would have never chosen another one over her – if this was a choice he could make. But it wasn't, for it was not about their happiness, it wasn't about their own needs, but about Camelot's. Ygraine knew he felt he [i]had[/i] to use whatever measures he needed to assure for a unquestionable succession.
She only wished he had told her before it was too late – that he had warned her and asked her, for she knew her own life was to be a sacrifice in the name of something else, something bigger than them, and she would have done so gladly. She couldn't hate him for being who he was, for she had learned to love him in spite of it.
And as she watched her grown child, looking at her from beyond a veil of magic, she could honestly tell him she would have done it all for him to live, for he was wonderful – a true prince, worthy of his father's throne in a way no man had been in centuries. Looking at him, she knew it had never really mattered, for it wasn't a choice she would ever change, and it wasn't even a choice she could have made.
It had always been her duty, and she was glad to have fulfilled it, even if it had been the last thing she had done. Given half a chance, she would do it all over again – for Uther, and Arthur, and Camelot, for the future and Albion, for the peace and golden age he was destined to rule.