For the Love of a Father
As Morgana lay sleeping, the door to her chambers opened. He was careful not to shed the glow from candles onto her eyes, fearful of waking her from the sleep she so desperately needed but had always been deprived of. She lay nestled in the same bed she had always slept in while living in Camelot, her raven curls feathered over pillows while clinging to the cover tightly for comfort from her nightmarish visions. The sight was so familiar to him. He could recall her waking in fright when she was scarcely eight-years-old, remembered holding her small delicate body in his arms, attempting to lull her back to sleep.
Although, it had always looked rather simple, her chambers hadn't changed much to reflect her age. However, her wardrobe had no doubt increased in size, occupying the many gowns to suit the needs of a Lady such as Morgana - needs much different to those of the little Morgana. The jewellery chest her mother had given her shortly before her death had become worn with age, and much like himself, had seen better days. Days of tears, of laughter, but was it gone now, forever?
Suddenly, she stirred beneath the blankets, whimpering and covering the small but noticeable globe at her middle as if to protect the babe quickening within her womb. His child was having a child.
Although Morgana was of child-bearing age, it still begged the question within his mind: How could this have happened?
Logically, he knew, but it felt strange, irrational. This shouldn't have happened to the crowned Princess of Camelot, whom had such a bright future in years to follow. This happened to the broken, the reckless and the lonely. Surely, Morgana was not any of these. She had all the love and care she could ever want or need, so why would she run to a stranger's arms, seeking more?
In his mind's eye, Uther saw her in her prim white dress, growing more beautiful as the days passed, swearing her allegiance to him, her brother, Arthur, and her future-kingdom. The image merged into her running not into his arms, but that boy's embrace. It was a hateful image and oh, how he'd like to strangle that boy. Uther hated the thought of hands roaming her innocent body where they did not belong. That suitor of hers should have known that she was not just any woman. She was Uther Pendragon's daughter, a precious part of heaven bestowed upon their world. Didn't that boy know that she was the brightest spot of light in her father's life? Didn't he know that she was the best thing that could have happened to anyone?
That boy, Gwaine, knew exactly that. Uther could tell, but hated to admit. From the way Gwaine's eyes softened when he looked at her, to how he tenderly held her to him while burying his face within her hair, was impossible for Uther to deny - Gwaine adored his daughter and Uther knew, that she too felt the same. He could see it in her eyes when she looked up at Gwaine wonderingly, with such pure trusting faith.
Somehow, without noticing, Gwaine had taken over for Uther as her protector, her confidante and best friend. Her lover had replaced her father as her champion and literal knight-in-shining armour. Uther felt helpless, feeble and usurped as now, Gwaine and Morgana were going to have a family, and he'd become but a mere ghost in his daughter's life.
From behind him, appeared his son, Arthur. His gaze followed his father's eyes to the sleeping form of his sister. "She'll always be your little girl, you know. " Arthur stated soundly, careful not to wake Morgana. Uther turned to his son. "She's not so little anymore, it seems," he studied Arthur momentarily and continued. "Nor are you, my son. Both my children have grown so much." The younger man could hear the sorrow within his father's voice, and could have sworn that it was tears he observed within his normally cold, placid eyes.
Arthur shook his head. "Morgana may now be a woman and i, a man, but we'll always be your children, even when we have children of our own," he smiled at his father and bid him good night and off he sauntered to his own chambers.
Uther managed a weak smile then, proud of his son, as the man he had become in recent years. He turned back to watch Morgana and his smile grew. Maybe there was hope. Maybe there was a chance that this was for the best. He would dare to hope.
Suddenly, a guard spoke from behind him, interrupting his train of thought. "Your presence is required in the council chambers, Sire." Uther nodded, and slowly closed the door to Morgana's chambers, leaving her and his unborn grandchild to sleep.
The two guards opened the double doors to the council chambers as he entreated entry. Sir Gwaine came into his view. He was dripping wet from the storm outside. "I apologize if i woke you, my Lord," he said hurriedly. "But it was in good reason. I've come to ask for your permission to marry your daughter."
Uther stared at Gwaine for a moment, noticing his sincerity and prudence, and then nodded, "Sit down."