Six Hundred And Fifty-Four Days

It had been six hundred and fifty-four days since he had spoken to his son.

It had been two days since he'd last seen him.

It had been twelve days since they'd both been in the same room together.

It had been six hundred and fifty-four days since his son had married a servant.

Uther wasn't sure what was going on.

He knew that Arthur wanted to reason with him, fix the situation they had created, but Uther wouldn't allow himself. He would never lay eyes on the woman Arthur had wasted his life on. But he needed to know something.

"…Little Thomas Pendragon…"

The name had been whispered, like it was forbidden, but it had sparked curiosity in Uther. Who was this person? It had had him wondering if there was something being kept from him. So he had sent Leon to fetch his son, no matter how hard he had to try to drag him in this room, he would see Arthur.

Approximately counting the minutes that had passed as he sat in his throne, the time should be very soon. As if on cue, the doors opened and in waltzed his son, Arthur, who did not dare to meet his eyes.

"Father."

It had been three seconds since his son last spoke to him.

"Arthur," he acknowledged.

A hard silence passed between the two and Arthur was the one to break it.

"I suggest you speak," he said quietly, "Guinevere is alone with Tom."

Tom. The name was familiar, but Uther couldn't remember from where.

"Who is this Tom you speak of?"

Arthur looked a little surprised before composing his features to one of annoyance.

"Where have you been living father?" he questioned bitterly, "I understand that you were the one who refused to have anything to do with me and my servant mistress," he spat out the quote and took a deep breath.

"But you should at least be aware of your own Grandson."

Uther should've prepared himself; he was dreading a moment like this, knowing that his son and the servant had produced offspring, that they had made an outcast, a half royal and a half low life. On any other day, he would have screamed murder and accused his son of being a traitor to the throne. But Uther wanted his son back.

"I have a Grandson?"

The words were spoken very slowly, as if the old man was trying to come to terms with something very obvious. Arthur nodded, his eyes rising slightly to gauge his father's reaction, before they returned to the floor.

"May I meet him?" he asked warily.

Arthur looked taken a back and Uther had thought he had said too much to soon. But surprising both of them, Arthur nodded softly.

"I'll see what I can do."


Blue eyes. Dark hair. Pale brown skin. Looking towards his son and his son's wife, the child is undoubtedly theirs. No mistakes.

"He is almost an exact cross of the two of you."

This causes Guinevere to smile and she squeezes the hand that Arthur will not remove from hers.

Uther watches the exchange, his grandson propped up on the servant girls hips and her eyes boring into Arthur's, as his bore into hers, a smile lazily thrown across their faces.

"I'd like to start again."

The words hang in the air and Arthur says nothing. Guinevere hands Tom to her husband and steps forward.

"I'd like that very much, sire."

As Tom lets out a giggle, a new start has begun.


Old fic of mine that I found. "Tom" is named after Gwen's father.