The screams were a maelstrom to his ears.
Uther Pendragon stood impassively among the druid tribe, cowering though they were in the face of Camelot's long feared army. Mothers tried in vain to clutch their children to them as they were tugged away, kicking and screeching. Fathers rushed armored knights in a frenzy, only to be cut down or restrained. At an agonizingly slow pace, the people were herded and sorted into two large groups.
Adults.
Children.
Hesitantly, one of the guard captains approached where Uther stood, flanked by two of his knights. "Your orders, My Lord?"
He supposed that normally, even he would have had an attack of conscience. Uther Pendragon, King though he might be, was not entirely without heart when he so chose to have one. However, this was not one of the times that appropriated such. He was still the King. Magic was still evil. Magic had to die.
Therefore, they had to die.
Every last one.
"String up the adults and burn them."
Hesitation, plain to see in the guard's face. "And what of the children?"
Igraine's final, agonized screams rang in his heart and mind, resounding louder than anything else ever could. These children may be innocent as of yet, but someday they wouldn't be. Soon enough, they'd share their parents' crimes and tear the world asunder. Uther couldn't let that happen.
Magic had to die.
Wretched moans and shouts of fury arose from the crowd, terror at the thought of what horrors might be dealt to the youth of their tribe, and the struggle began anew. One druid woman managed to break from her bonds and loose a spell, sending a tree branch flying into a guard. Another attempted to set her captor alight with flame, but magic or not, they were sorely outnumbered. More druid people fell and the children watched on. There were perhaps a dozen or so, whimpering and sobbing as they held each other close. One little girl was wearing a circlet of flowers around her forehead. A boy's wooden soldiers lay scattered on the ground where he'd abandoned them. Uther thought Arthur had some rather like them.
He averted his gaze at once and hardened his heart.
"Lead them to the wells and drown them. "
Drowning was quicker than burning. Uther was being kind. Surely they would see that.
Magical beings though these druids were, most were not adept enough to cast without their hands. They didn't stand a chance as King Uther's men dragged them backward towards a clearing in the middle of the forest, pyres already having been hastily erected. Uther forced himself to gaze back as many of the prisoners locked eyes with him, accusing him, mocking him….
Some even seemed to pity him. How very curious that was.
His men did as they'd been told, taking the children by both arms and carrying them off to their doom. Most of them didn't even struggle; merely screamed and sobbed until they purged their stomachs, and couldn't see for the tears. He saw more than a few of his men avert their faces in disgust. He even thought he witnessed a few lean over to retch themselves.
Uther decided to pointedly ignore that. Just this once.
The deed was done then, and so too was his duty this day. Uther made to depart, motioning for his two escorts to do the same when suddenly, one child caught his eye. A little boy who kicked and screamed with all his might.
A little boy with nearly white-blonde hair and deep blue eyes.
"Father?" the boy whimpered in confusion, sobbing as he was dragged backward toward the well. The soldier who held him winced and swore as he twisted in his grasp, kicking him in the shins and clawing at his face.
"Arthur?" What sorcery was this? It couldn't be him. It couldn't be. Uther had left him safe and sound at the castle. He must have been out of his mind to hallucinate such a thing.
And yet, Uther would know that face anywhere. Would know those eyes if he'd been blind, deaf and dumb. Surely his subconscious couldn't be making this up. Surely he wasn't imagining those ghastly screams. This was Arthur. His Arthur. What was he doing here? How was this happening? Why was this happening?
What in the name of the Gods had Uther done?
"Father, help me! I'm scared!"
"Arthur?"
"Father, save me! I'm scared!"
"Arthur!"
He was still screaming as the soldier forced his head underwater, and by the time Uther was able to reach him and pull him up, he found nothing but a pair of glassy blue eyes, staring up at him.
Never before had something so dead managed to look as accusing.
Uther woke up sweating, screaming, limbs tangled in silken sheets as he emerged from the throes of the nightmare. It was still early; the sun appeared to have just risen in the sky, and he fell out of bed in his haste to remove the covers.
Arthur. Arthur. Arthur.
Without thinking, he stumbled out of the sheets still tangled around his legs and threw the heavy doors to his chambers open, dashing into the hall in nothing but his night clothes. A pair of unfortunate guards outside nearly attempted to ask what was amiss, but one look at his face made them think better of it, and they stepped aside without comment.
The King of Camelot advised him fiercely against this course of action. It was just a bloody dream. This was hardly the first one he'd had, and yet for once, the father overruled the tyrant. He needed to see Arthur.
He needed it more than the air he breathed.
In seemingly no time at all, he was sprinting down the hall toward his son's chambers and bursting through the door, startling the occupants inside so violently, Uther was forced to take a second's pause.
Arthur was still lying in bed, awake but sleepy-eyed, as if he were attempting to get up enough motivation to rise. His manservant, Merlin, appeared to have been busying himself with laying out the Prince's clothes for the day, breakfast having already been set on the table. Upon Uther's entrance, however, Arthur bolted upright, any remaining drowsiness startled out of him. Merlin froze mid-motion, a red tunic dangling from his fingertips almost as if he'd nearly dropped it.
"Father?"
Arthur's voice was thick with confusion.
...pleading, as he begged Uther to save him.
At that moment, something in him shattered. Something…indescribable. Without preamble, he stumbled forward, sat on the edge of Arthur's bed and pulled him close.
"Arthur. Arthur, my boy."
Uther felt more than saw Arthur mouth something to Merlin, and the manservant shrugged, seeming at a loss, but for once he didn't care about how he must look the fool. All he knew was that his only son was in his arms, not condemned to a watery death. Nothing else was of any consequence.
Wisely, Merlin set down the tunic he'd been holding and dismissed himself without a word. Arthur merely continued to return his sire's embrace.
"Father, what on Earth?" His voice was a strange mixture of exasperation, confusion and concern. "What's come over you? Has something happened?"
"Nothing. Nothing, I'm just glad you're all right."
Arthur's confusion continued to grow, but he seemed to understand this was most likely something he would never receive a full explanation for. "Of course I'm all right. Everything is fine, father. Everything is fine. I promise you."
And as Uther held his son in his arms in the dim morning light, for what was perhaps the first time in years, it really hit him. Hit him like a fatal blow.
He'd torn this away from countless parents over the years. Torn hundreds from their children in the most brutal ways he could ponder. Drowned a little girl with a circlet of flowers around her head, and stomped on a boy's wooden soldiers as his screams died away into the night.
He let the shudders grip him as Arthur cradled his head in his lap, murmuring comforting nonsense words. Words he knew were lies, even if his boy never would.
Uther Pendragon would never escape.
The maelstrom raged on.
In all of my fandom jumping over the years, I always end up throwing in an angsty father/son fic at some point. I must be some sort of masochist.
In all seriousness though, I'm really into exploring Uther and Arthur's rocky relationship. There's so much to work with there, especially considering all of the horrible things Uther Pendragon has done. I do not believe he is an evil man. Merely one wracked with guilt and regret at the end of his life. A man who lived consumed by fear, who let his anger and stubbornness carry him away. I do think I have him in character here. Uther has shown himself to be a man of intense emotion when he allows himself to be.
Thanks so much for reading, guys! Your support means the world to me.