This one has much to do with post-miscarriage, so if this is a trigger for someone, I'm sorry, and you may not wish to read it.

Set a few years before Arthur's birth

The harmless looking old woman in the stocks didn't give the king much pause when he walked into the market to buy a small gift for his wife. Igraine had been a bit depressed lately after her last miscarriage and he wanted to do whatever he could to make her cheerful again. It wasn't easy. The toll that her inability to carry a child was taking on her body was exhausting and huge. He had seen a tiny, carved dragon the last time he'd come through here and was hoping it was still for sale. Or if not for sale, at least able to be carved again.

The woodcarver was always happy to talk to King Uther. He was one of his best customers. The queen was a lover of all things carved out of wood for some reason, and Uther had a habit of finding little carvings to brighten her day. It was said he had a special carving made to accompany his proposal to her, but the woodcarver was never sure about that story. When he saw the king coming down the street, he smiled in anticipation. "Yer majesty! Fine day, isn't it?"

Uther smiled at the woodcarver, "It is, Jem. Hopefully, it'll be even finer if you have something I want today."

"Of course, Sire. Always the best for you and the Queen."

"I saw a small dragon here the other day. I was wondering if it might still be available." Uther looked at the wares and didn't see it, but he was still a bit optimistic.

Jem shook his head sadly, "I'm sorry, yer majesty. I sold it two days ago." He tilted his head. "Did you need it immediately?"

"I would have liked it immediately, yes. The queen has been feeling a bit under the weather and I wanted to cheer her up a bit."

Jem nodded his head. "I understand. Yer queen is a good one, she is. Kind, as well as beautiful." He looked at the carvings he had on display. "I regret I can't sell you that dragon today, but I do have this little doe and fawn carving she may like."

"Ah, no." Uther shook his head sadly. "Absolutely not that one."

Jem's eyes grew wide as he realized what the queen's ailment might be. "Right, yer majesty. Well, I started working on another dragon yesterday since they are so popular here in Camelot. If I push it, I could have it done by the end of the week, middle of next if I want to be my perfectionist self."

Uther smiled at the old man who had been selling his wares here for years. "That would be wonderful, Jem. Send it to the castle when it's done and I will make sure you get your normal commission fee." Uther took a deep breath. "It would be worth it to see my wife smile at your clever little carvings."

"Absolutely, yer majesty. I'm glad she takes pleasure as much in my work as I do making it." Jem bowed to his king behind his stall.

Uther pointed out a little falcon alighting on a tree branch and pulled out his purse, "For now, let me take that one. We'll leave the dragon as a surprise for her in the coming weeks, eh?" Jem grinned as he and the king settled in to haggle for the best price. Just because Uther was the king didn't mean the woodcarver wasn't going to make sure he paid a fair price, and if the king could afford to pay a little more than others, why shouldn't Jem get some of that money?

They both came away from the exchange satisfied, ignoring the amused smiles on the faces of Uther's guards. They always enjoyed Uther's time in the market. For some reason, the man who could be completely cold-hearted and stone-faced when dealing with most commoners had a good rapport with the merchants here in Camelot. None of them could explain it. It made no sense to them or any of the other guards who traveled with the king. As Jem wrapped the dainty piece of woodwork in the rough cloth he kept on hand to protect them, the king's gaze traveled around the market, landing on the old woman in the stocks, her feet set solidly in the iron bar in front of the rough bench.

"Jem, what did Mother do that got her punished by time in the stocks?" Usually the bailiff was gentler with older people, and this woman seemed set firmly in her Crone set of years.

"Ah, that's Mother Brooks. She was caught selling charms that weren't actually charmed."

"Fraud?" Uther accepted the package from the woodcarver, who nodded at his question.

"Yep. Your friend Gaius and his woman figured out that the fertility charms she was selling were nothing more than pretty rocks on strings. No magic involved, yet she claimed there was and charged for the spells. Apparently, she took advantage of quite a few women who are barren." Jem shook his head. "Pity, to do that to a desperate woman. The bailiff has her in for the limit." Jem started rearranging his stock to make up for the now-removed falcon piece. "He's having the guard make sure she's alright, given her age, but she still has to stay in there. At least it's not the pillory."

Uther nodded solemnly. He was having the idea of barrenness pushed at him every day and every time Igraine lost a child. He knew how hard it was for him. He could still only imagine how hard it was for his beloved wife and any other woman who had to deal with it. "A lesson learned for her, then. And, unfortunately, for the women she swindled."

"Aye, yer majesty." Jem smiled wanly, more pursing his lips as he sighed than smiling. "Give Her Majesty my best, Sire. Tell her I hope she feels better soon." He shrugged, "I'll have the dragon done for her next week."

Uther nodded as he returned his own wan smile, "Thank you, Jem. I'll make sure to pass on her message." He turned away from the woodcarver and looked solemnly at Mother Brooks, not even knowing what to say to the woman. Normally if someone was in the stocks, he'd go over and try to reinforce the punishment if it was for something dire, or mock the person a bit if it wasn't. Today, he could do nether, so he just shook his head and walked away, back toward the citadel and his grieving wife.

He was stopped more than once on his way to his quarters. First by the seneschal, then by his First knight, then by Gorlois. Gorlois was the only one he spent any time actually talking to. His own wife, Vivienne, had recently lost a child herself, though much further along, and was the person Igraine had turned to for comfort. The two women had created an almost impenetrable front against their two husbands that both were working to get past. "Uther, how is Igraine today?"

Uther just shook his head after he had dismissed his guards. They weren't going to give him any trouble over it, leaving him alone with his oldest and closest friend. "Still sad. Still grieving." He gestured with the small package in his hand. "I found something at the market that might make her smile. I hope, anyway." They started walking towards the king's chambers as Gorlois nodded. "VIvienne? How is she doing?"

Gorlois' mouth twisted, "She's sitting with Igraine still, and not talking to me all that much."

Uther bowed his head. Neither wife was going to recover quickly from their losses. Neither husband truly knew what to do to help them. Uther wasn't even sure there was anything he could do. Nothing that Gaius had done seemed to make any difference in Igraine's ability to carry a child. Uther certainly wanted a child to carry on his name, but he wasn't the one being pressured by the vipers in the court about his ability to make Igraine pregnant. No, she was the bearing the brunt of all of the rumors and innuendo. Gorlois had already had a daughter, even if she had died when she was only a wee babe. Igraine still hadn't carried any child to term.

They reached the door of the king's chambers, nodding to the guards as they opened the door for the two men. Igraine and Vivienne were seated by the window, enjoying the sunlight as they stitched and wove. Vivienne had some sort of tapestry she was working on, while Igraine had some more practical sewing in her lap. She was stitching a seam that Uther had popped in his gambeson the last time he had practiced on the training field with Sir Ector. "Darling, the laundresses can take care of repairing my clothing. You don't need to do that. You should be working on something beautiful, just like you."

"I'm not an ornament, Uther."

"No, no, of course you aren't. I just meant you should be relaxing, not doing work." Uther knew how much his wife hated being treated like a brainless bauble and tried his best to get his foot out of mouth.

Igraine fixed a glare on her husband. "I would still be stitching. Still be using the same hand and the same motion. Why not do something useful and let the maids and laundresses attend to more important work?"

Uther nodded, knowing when to quit an argument with his wife before it became an actual fight. "You are absolutely right, my dear. Besides, this means I know the work will have been done with extra care and attention because my loving wife did it for me." He stealthily laid the package on the windowsill behind her as he laid his hand on her shoulder and bussed her cheek.

Igraine lifted an eyebrow at him and asked, "Did you not hear me say the maids and laundresses had more important work than repairing your gambeson?" The gentle teasing made him smile as he caught a glimpse of his wife from before the many miscarriages had taken their toll on her sense of humor.

"But surely nothing can be more important than taking care of their king and ensuring his safety and welfare."

"You had better watch that conceit of yours, darling. If your head swells too much, we won't be able to get you through the doors of the throne room."

Uther ignored the quiet chuckles of his friends as he continued trying to draw his wife out of her shell, even if it was at his own expense. "But, Igraine, you're the clever one. You'd find a way."

Igraine shook her head at her husband. "I am not knocking a wall out of this citadel just to roll your fat head somewhere. You wouldn't even be able to fit the crown over your head."

Uther took his wife's hand and kissed her knuckles gently. "What would I do without you to keep me and my fat head grounded?"

Gorlois and Vivienne left their chambers shortly afterward. It was a quiet night, with dinner served to the royal couple in their chambers. Uther dismissed Igraine's maid and took care of her duties that night, wanting to be alone with her. His own manservant was a little harder to convince, so he simply ordered the man out peremptorily. After he had brushed his wife's long hair out, he gave her the little wooden carving he'd picked up at the market earlier that day.

"Oh, Uther, it's gorgeous. Jem really outdid himself this time." She walked over to place it on the mantle with the other little carvings she'd fallen in love with. Her fingers smoothed over the tiny bumps and grooves carved into the wood.

"I hoped you'd like it. It's been a rough time for you and I just want to see you smile again." He cupped her cheek. "I love your smile."

Igraine sighed. "I know I've been impossible lately. I'm sorry."

"No. No. Not impossible, Igraine. You, well, we lost our child. Grief is natural." He put his arms around her as he pulled her into his arms to hold her while she cried. "I wanted our son just as much as you."

Igraine tilted her head back to look at her husband. "And if he had been a she? If I ever carry a child and it turns out to be a daughter, will you want her just as much?"

Uther smiled gently. "I will love whatever child we have. Do I hope for a son to carry on my legacy? Yes. Absolutely. But if you only have a daughter I will love her just as much. I'll just make sure she marries Gorlois' son if he ever has one."

Igraine hit his shoulder and shook her head at her husband. "Impossible man."

"I love you, Igraine. When we finally have a child I will not love you any more or less than I already do. I can't possibly do so because you already have my entire heart but for the piece I reserve for our child." Uther dried his wife's tears as he told her this. "Come to bed. You are tired and spent an exhausting day sewing up rips in my clothing."

Igraine tilted her head and nodded, yawning. She hadn't done anything physically taxing in the last few weeks, but her mental state was wearing on her. Uther knew from experience that she would probably be like this for another month or so before she was able to pull herself out of her melancholy. She lay down as Uther loosened the ropes holding the bed curtains back. As he did so, something fell onto the bed. He reached in and picked it up before Igraine could grab it. "What's this?" he asked, looking at the crystal wrapped with rawhide to a longer piece of hide.

"It's nothing. Let me have it." Igraine tried to pluck it from his hand but he held it out of her reach.

"Igraine?" Uther put the kingly steel in his voice to let Igraine knew she wouldn't get around answering him.

She sighed. "It's a charm. I bought it last week when Vivienne and I went down to the market. It's supposed to help women conceive." Uther looked from his wife to the useless charm, wondering if he should just tell her about Mother Brooks and her admitted fraud and time in the stocks. Before he could decide, Igraine managed to get hold of the charm and reached up to replace it in its position above the bed. "If it helps, it'll be worth the price, Uther." Stubborn determination filled her voice, more forceful than anything he'd heard in the last few weeks and actually gave him a shred of hope. He never wanted to hurt her. If letting her believe a worthless trinket possessed the magic to make everything better, then so be it.

"Absolutely, my darling. Anything that helps us have a child will be worth the price."

Yes, another Uther isn't such a bad guy (yet) story.

I know I glossed over much of the resulting depression that a miscarriage can cause. I can't and won't go into details about miscarriages in this or any of my other stories. They were ridiculously common in the medieval times thanks to the general level of health for women. They're still not uncommon. People just don't talk about them much, even now.