Author's Note: Long wait equals long chapter! Took me a while to wrestle with this one. So much happening now!


"Do you see it?"

"How can we pay it? It'll take everything we have!"

"We could talk to the king."

"Petition? He's stop answering those days ago."

"No one can get near the king anymore."

A hand reached through the gaggle of peasants, ripping away one of the parchments tacked to a wooden board. Gazes followed to the smoldering eyes of a young man. "We gather today," he proclaimed. "Spread the word to meet by noon."

The peasants darted away. Elyan scanned the announcement again, then turned to march back home. Yesterday, he had almost been persuaded by Gwaine, at least, he'd allowed himself to entertain a niggling doubt. His friend had related positive stories of the prince, and concluded with a favorite saying: Nobility is defined by what you do and not by who you are.

Elyan stomped through the door to his home and up to Gwaine who was stuffing his face with a meal.

"It's not too bad," Gwaine complimented Percival. Gwen had returned last night, but hadn't spoken a word and had taken off early again before first light, leaving them to fend for themselves.

Elyan tossed the parchment at Gwaine. "So look at that and tell me we're not needed."

Gwaine missed catching the paper that floated to the floor. He leaned down to retrieve it and read over it. He passed it to Percival.

"Well?" Elyan prompted.

"It's too much," Gwaine muttered.

"Was this what we were to expect?" Percival questioned.

"Doesn't it make sense?" Elyan snatched the paper back from the large man, sitting down at the table. "This tax is exorbitant. Most of them can't afford it. They'll be destitute. I've called an assembly by noon." Elyan locked eyes with Gwaine. "Are you with me?"

Gwaine looked between Elyan's resolute eyes and Percival's hopeful ones, then glanced at the parchment. He couldn't abandon the men whose bonds of friendship went deeper than any he'd ever known. He sighed. "I'm with you."


"Arthur?" Gwen anxiously poked her head into the prince's chambers. Grumbling drifted from behind the dressing screen. Her cheeks flushed when he appeared dressed only in a pair of trousers.

"Guinevere!" Arthur exclaimed.

Gwen looked down. "Sire. I...can wait."

"No. Come in."

Gwen stepped inside and peeked at Arthur moving to the wash basin. "Morning training session," he explained. "And Merlin's gone so no one to take care of stuff."

"You could call another servant?"

Arthur grunted as he poured water over his head. "Too much work."

Gwen smiled at his grousing. Arthur finished washing up and rummaged in his wardrobe to grab a shirt, blue, one she had made, and slip into it. He fiddled with the ties as he approached her. "What do you need?"

Gwen's face grew grim when he focused on her. "You talked to Elyan."

Arthur smoothed his wet hair. "Yes."

"I didn't want you to."

"I was just trying to help."

"It didn't."

Arthur grew alarmed. "What did he do?"

"He didn't hurt me," Gwen assured, "but he assumes we...you..."

"What?"

"That you only want me for your...pleasure."

Arthur let out a frustrated breath. He had hoped Elyan would have kept his mouth shut at least to his sister. "I told him I would never do that."

"He accused you, too?"

Arthur nodded.

"He knows I love you. I tried to tell him it wasn't like that, but he wouldn't listen."

Arthur rubbed at his chin.

Gwen's lips pursed in frustration. "There's more. Last night he talked long with his friends and several people came by. Arthur, I think they're planning something. They're angry at the king."

"For what?" Arthur exclaimed. "For keeping them safe? For providing for them?"

"He's raised the tax, and he's collecting it today."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Raised the tax?"

"The notices were up even before dawn. It's more than most of us can pay. Your father's breaking them, and I'm afraid Elyan and all of them, they might not be able to just let it happen."

Arthur ran a hand over his face, then stalked over to a mirror, buckling his belt around his shirt. "I'll take care of it."


Uther smiled at the woman who shared the hearth in his room. "I must thank you again for coming here."

Catrina bowed her head demurely. "It's been a delight."

"I was distressed to hear Tregor had been invaded, but much encouraged that you found escape to the house of Bourchier."

"The Lord and Lady have been supportive, but I wanted to see a face I cared for once more."

Uther tapped absentmindedly on his armrest.

"Has it been hard to live without her?"

"You know what it is to lose those closest to you."

"The pain never leaves, and you wonder if you will ever find anyone to soften memory once more."

Uther stared at her. "And what if you did?"

"What if I have?"

A knock sounded at the door. Uther called out, "Enter."

"Father."

Uther rolled his eyes at the unwelcome interruption of his errant son. "Not now, Arthur."

"I must speak with you," Arthur said, no, demanded.

Uther rose from his chair. "Am I not still king? Go."

Arthur strode up to him. "You've imposed a new tax."

Uther walked away from his son to a side table and poured a goblet of wine. "Yes."

"It's too high."

Catrina huffed. Arthur looked over at her, then back to his father who began to explain.

"It has come to my attention that we have been saving too little for future need. The crops haven't done as well this year, and the winter may be hard. We have also been far too lenient with delayed repayment of loans. The southern road has yet to be completed and we need the trade route, especially after Deorham's refusal."

"The crops haven't been as fruitful, but only by a little," Arthur argued. "And you know most of the loans can't be repaid in such a short time. And whether the southern road is completed or not, we're still on good terms with Nemeth."

Uther wandered back towards Catrina. "I said I didn't need your advice and I don't. The people must pay for our provision. The tax will be collected."

"Most of our people are poor and hardly get by as it is."

Uther handed his goblet to Catrina and whirled on his heel. "You don't understand, Arthur! You've never had the patience for ruling."

Arthur clenched his jaw, but then composed himself. "Forgive me if I have made you doubt me. I wish only for our people to prosper."

"As do I," Uther returned. "Trust my judgment."

"Some may resist."

Uther cast an eye to Catrina. "So I have heard."

"And if they do?"

"If the people are unable to see the purpose of it, our soldiers will make it clear."

"Father!"

"Why this plea?" The query came from Catrina, who had stood to hand Uther his goblet and embrace his arm. "Your sympathy for a peasant boy perhaps hinders your objectivity?"

"I care for our kingdom," Arthur replied stonily.

"Then you must know difficult decisions are often the best for all."

"Not in this case."

"And your judgment is further clouded by love."

Uther paused sipping his wine. "Love?" Uther questioned, eyes flitting from Catrina to his son.

Arthur's gaze was locked on their guest in shock.

"A maid has claimed his heart."

"A maid?"

Arthur turned slowly to him. "No one has a claim on my heart."

"The Lady Morgana says you have loved for some time," Lady Catrina noted innocently.

"Morgana?" Arthur inquired. "She's left for several days."

"She returned," Uther reported. "This morning." Arthur stared at him in confusion and Uther sensed fear. "Has a maid caught your eye?" When Arthur didn't reply, Uther spoke lowly. "Many a maid tempts, but only that."

Arthur mirrored his tone. "Unless its more than temptation."

"So it's true."

Arthur fixed his eyes on his father. "I meant to tell you of this."

Blood rushed through Uther's veins. "The survival of Camelot depends on forging an alliance through your marriage."

"But I can't marry someone I don't have feelings for."

"I forbid you to consort with a maid."

"You can't forbid my feelings any more than I can."

Uther grasped Arthur's arm and shook him. "Who is she?" Arthur bit down on his lips. Uther cast him aside, causing him to stumble backwards. "If I hear any more about you and a maid, she will be executed forthwith."

Arthur backed away.

"And do not think you can see her without my knowledge. You will be watched, Arthur, I swear it."

"There is no need," Arthur answered stiffly. "I give you my solemn word that I'll never see her again." He left, the door shutting hard behind him.

Several drops of wine dripped to Uther's doublet, and he glanced down to see his hand shaking. He set the goblet down and sank into a chair. Catrina knelt in front of him, dabbing at the wine stains with her handkerchief.

"He's nothing like you," she murmured.

Uther pressed the fingers of his left hand into his eyes as wetness brimmed in them. All these years, raising him, training him, molding him for rule. Ygraine had died for nothing!

"I'm sorry," Catrina comforted, her hands caressing his cheeks.

Uther viewed her through blurry tears and when her lips met his, he embraced her, clinging to the one tenderness left to him.


Arthur stormed through Morgana's door. "You told Lady Catrina about Gwen?"

Morgana didn't look up for a moment, her hand clutching at a brush she held to her hair. The brush dropped into her lap. "Gwen?"

"She just told father I loved a maid!"

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that."

"I didn't mean to."

"How did it happen?" Arthur demanded.

"She was lamenting her loneliness and telling me she felt feelings recently for someone and didn't know if it was appropriate and it might have slipped that I noticed something with you as well."

"It slipped?" Arthur threw up his hands. "Morgana, he's threatened to kill Gwen if I ever see her again!"

"I told her to keep it between us."

Arthur blew out a breath and slumped into a chair. "Now he thinks I don't care about the kingdom even more, that my judgment is clouded by love."

"It's Uther's judgment that's clouded."

Arthur guffawed. You think?

"That woman. She's had an influence on him."

"Imagine her as a stepmother," Arthur growled.

"You should do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Something..." When she didn't go on, Arthur looked up. Her head was bowed and her teeth clenched. He stood and moved over to her.

"What is it?"

"I... Nothing."

Arthur placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you didn't mean to let him know. Why are you back anyway?"

Morgana seemed to force her gaze to him. "Back?"

"You were supposed to be gone for days. Did you find Lancelot?"

"Lancelot?"

"Lancelot. The man you love."

"I found him."

"And where has he been all these months?"

"Around."

Arthur ran an eye over her strangely reluctant expression. "Is there a reason you don't want to tell me?"

"I just...can't yet."

Arthur sighed. "Then, where's Merlin?"

"Merlin?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"You mean the little servant?"

"Yes. The little servant."

"He stayed with Lancelot."

That made sense. The boy had always been close with the knight. "Will they come back together?"

"In a few days."

"Good." Arthur sighed inwardly. He needed Lancelot's advice. And maybe Merlin's, too. Ugh. There he was, relying on Merlin again. It didn't make any sense why he kept thinking he needed a servant boy's ear. "I have to find Gwen. Tell her I can't see her for awhile."

Morgana slowly stood. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have said anything."

Arthur met her pleading eyes. "What's done is done." The door shut swiftly behind him.

Morgana sank back down and glared at her own eyes in the mirror. "Stop fighting me," she ground out as someone else stared back and vowed not to make this easy.


Merlin lay suspended in a world of watery darkness. His magic had responded without his hardly thinking again, extending a protective cocoon. Trouble was, he couldn't escape it. He'd tried every thought and spell he knew of; it wouldn't budge, like his magic fought to maintain the protective barrier. He'd been forced to stare at muck for hours and panic he'd never get out. What was it like to die of lack of food and water? He didn't know, but he was starving.

Merlin had clutched his arms into his chest, his legs tucked up underneath him. While he wasted away in here, two creatures he had never seen before, a troll and whatever that green thing was were doing who knows what to Camelot. And Morgana had been taken by one! It was no wonder Uther hated magic considering how it always turned against him. Not that that wasn't his fault. He made himself the enemy of it. His was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Merlin's cocoon began to lift. He threw out his arms and legs, searching within himself. He wasn't doing this. The troll? Had it sensed his survival? He held his hands out, ready to defend himself as he popped out of the bog and rolled onto the shore. The cocoon burst and glorious fresh air filled his lungs. The most welcome face in the world peered down at him.

"Kilgharrah!"

"Young warlock, I must insist you be more careful and not interrupt the time I have left on this earth to do what I desire."

The complaint resolved into a twisted dragon smile and Merlin returned it. He seemed rather chipper since last Merlin had seen him. "You knew a dragonlord was in trouble?"

"If I came every time I felt you were in trouble, I would never leave you to forge your own path. It is Nero you owe my presence to. His pestering compelled me."

Nero was perched on Kilgharrah's head, chest puffed out like he took immense pride in himself. Merlin pushed to his feet, stretching his arms and legs. "Where's my father?"

"Ealdor."

Merlin grinned. "Really?"

"He's been there too often of late," Kilgharrah bemoaned. "Leaving the unborn to my care."

"The eggs?"

Kilgharrah bobbed his large head. "Now, tell me why you have decided to make a bog your home."

"There's a troll," Merlin explained, "and a...something. They're trying to disgrace Arthur and take the throne."

"Trolls," Kilgharrah grumbled. "During the Purge they remained as selfish as ever they were, hiding deep in their mountains and allowing no one to cross their borders. No aid did they offer to those in need. If a troll has come, it's goal will be entirely self-serving."

"There was someone else. A man. He said they would be rewarded."

"Then the troll wants only wealth. Unsurprising. And the 'something'?"

"Like a small, green man. Pointy nose, dark hair."

"Goblin." If possible, Kilgharrah's tone became even more disparaging. "Mischief makers. Its glee will come from every chaos caused and that will be its own reward. Yet perhaps there is some satisfaction as well in the downfall of the Pendragons. Uther paid dearly for magical creatures captured and brought to him. He slaughtered goblins by the hundreds. That one survived is unexpected."

Merlin rolled his eyes. So, add magical creatures to the list of enemies that would target Arthur to destroy Uther.

"A troll and a goblin combined will not be easily defeated."

"Why?"

"I see they have already killed one."

Merlin looked over to Jonas' body, his sword still sticking out of it. "I did that." He walked over to the corpse, feeling suddenly sorry. The man hadn't been himself. And he'd killed for the third time. Merlin tugged at the blade until it came loose. "The goblin was inside him, I think."

"And where is it now?"

"Morgana."

"This bodes very ill for Camelot."

"Doesn't everything?" Merlin muttered wearily.

"If Arthur is driven from his father, I fear how he may ascend the throne. If he would fight for his right, Camelot would be forced into war, and the harmonious uniting of Albion in peril. He would follow in Uther's path."

"I need to get out of here! I've been gone for hours!" Merlin fretted.

Kilgharrah's gaze softened. "There must be times the young Pendragon stands without you."

"But, you said this was bad."

"It is. If the prince chooses to fight his father. He can choose another way."

"And I have to make sure he does," Merlin declared.

"You may not be needed."

Merlin flung his hands up in the air. "I thought you said I had to protect him and make sure everything turns out all right!"

"Your part is a grand one, but it is not the only one. With or without you, Arthur Pendragon will make his own choices and on these he will rise and fall."

"Well, I can still help."

"You already have."

"I've got to go," Merlin insisted, annoyance at Kilgharrah's words of wisdom slipping into his tone. The dragon always seemed to say things that rattled his brain. He began heading towards his horse.

"You cannot show yourself to the troll or the goblin," Kilgharrah called after him. "They must not know you live."

"I already thought of that."

Kilgharrah watched Merlin's retreating back, shaking his head to dislodge the kestrel. "Go, wretched fowl." Nero flew away towards his master. Kilgharrah heaved a sigh. Sometimes he wished he'd never thrust such burdens on such a young one's back. Despite his apparent placidity, he'd become quite fond of the sorcerer called Merlin.


"They're here! They're already taking it!"

Gwaine turned from Elyan's meeting, grown more numerous than he expected, to set his gaze on the messenger. He'd sided with his friends, but anxiety gnawed at him. This felt way too familiar—a king abusing his power and his decent son fighting a tide. Arthur Pendragon's name and presence had been absent this call for more taxation.

"We stand now!" Elyan declared, rising from his seat. He held out his hands to Gwaine and Percival. Percival grasped his wrist and Gwaine slowly stood, doing the same. He had no choice really. They were needed no matter his conflicted feelings.

The three men marched down the street, the posse they'd gathered following in their wake. People watched them pass, some closing their doors, sensing no good to come, others leaving their shelters to join them. Shouting sounded not far ahead, a man arguing with a tax collector.

"It's all I have!"

"The king demands his share."

"I can't live without something!"

"Step back from him!" Elyan commanded, unsheathing his sword.

The tax collector's angry expression faded to fear when he saw Elyan and next to him Gwaine and Percival, also brandishing swords. The two soldiers behind the collector responded in kind, but looked taken aback by the mob behind the three men.

The tax collector seemed to weigh his options, then dropped the coin pouch into the man's hands and backed off. One of the soldiers spoke. "Go home, boy. You don't want to stir up trouble for yourself."

"It's the king that's brought the trouble!" Elyan shouted. Murmuring voices behind him agreed. "He will listen to us or be removed."

"It's your head," the soldier said. He held up his sword. Elyan dove forward, supported by Gwaine and Percival. It took little time to subdue and truss up the two soldiers. The crowd moved on towards the citadel, growing each step along the way.


When Arthur had informed Gwen they couldn't be seen together for some time, she hadn't cried or despaired, but he read in her eyes betrayal at Morgana's broken confidence. He assured her it was a simple mistake, and tried not to entertain her skeptical look. Morgana wouldn't have ever turned on them purposefully. He retreated back to his room, distressed, flopping onto his bed, hating the downward spiral of his life.

He'd once had his father's trust, if not always his praise. I played the game. Do as your told. Obey and don't question. And if he'd disagreed? His thoughts turned to Ealdor, lying to get there, because he could never share what truly mattered to him.

A wide gulf had existed between himself and his father as long as he could remember, and he'd vainly endeavored to build a bridge across it. If he performed enough, said enough, gained enough respect, perhaps he could draw near the man who controlled his life. And then Merlin had happened and Guinevere, and everything threw his perception into question.

Arthur ran both hands through his hair. And the cave. Always that vision haunting and taunting, magnifying his father's flaws till they chafed painfully in the recesses of his mind.

Arthur jumped instinctively to his feet when warning bells began to peal. What now? He grabbed his sword, sliding it onto his belt as he ran down the hall. He might meet his father, be ordered away. He can't deny me my right of birth! He'd caused it and he'd have to deal with it.

Instead of his father, it was Leon who came rushing down the hall. "Arthur!"

"Leon. What's happening?"

"The people, they're coming here, ready for a fight. Your father's collectors were seeking the tax."

Arthur scowled. Exactly what he had warned of.

"Your father will set the guard on them, call in the knights."

"I'll meet them. You stay here." Arthur marched away but steps fell in next to him. "Leon―"

"My loyalty is yours, my lord."

Arthur swallowed and his eyes brimmed wetly at the declaration. He had the respect of at least one man he admired.

Arthur reached the gate just as the crowd began to funnel through. Footfalls pounded behind him. "Stop!" His cry caused hesitation from all parties, the soldiers behind him and the crowd in front of him. He met the eyes of the peasants and spied Gwen's brother at the front along with the man Merlin called Gwaine. Who was beginning to like him, right? He let his gaze fall longer on this man, praying Merlin hadn't been mistaken. "I implore you, do not go any farther!"

The man named Gwaine didn't move, but Gwen's brother stepped forward. "The king will acknowledge us and hear or we will have his head!"

"And you think you can take it?" Arthur called out loudly for all to hear. He eyed the crowd. "You have families, wives, children. What you start here could be the death of them!"

"Sometimes that's what it takes!" Elyan yelled, but several in the crowd had looked to each other in doubt.

Gwaine moved to his friend. "Elyan. He's right."

Elyan shrugged off Gwaine's hand at his shoulder, defiantly staring down the prince. "Move out of our way."

"I can't let you through," Arthur answered. "No one must die here today." More uncertainty in the crowd.

"But we can't pay the tax!" someone shouted. Others joined in.

Arthur hated that what they said was true, and he didn't have his father's good graces to suggest he plead for them. "You will have your coin back." Murmurs of surprise spread throughout the mob. "Whatever has been taken will be returned." Heaven help him! His father would have his head for this.

Arthur turned to Leon. "This will be against my father. You don't have to do it."

"I will carry out your desire, sire."

Arthur nodded grimly. Leon gestured for a couple knights to join him. Their lack of hesitation bolstered Arthur's confidence. "Please leave with Sir Leon. He will return your coin."

The crowd began to disperse, moving back into the lane after the knight.

"Wait!" Elyan cried out.

Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him close, whispering harshly. "If you want Guinevere to suffer for this, then keep speaking."

"You're threatening her?"

"No. My father would. Think about this."

Gwaine and Percival had lingered at their friend's side. Arthur turned back to the castle, sure word would be winging its way to his father about this. Elyan screamed and he whirled around to see the young man rushing him, but the big man next to him was on him in seconds, crushing him around the chest and hauling him backwards.

Several soldiers coming through the gates surrounded the three men. "It's them!"

"They didn't hurt me!" Arthur insisted. "Let them go!"

"They prevented us from taking the tax. Attacked us," a soldier explained.

Arthur's stomach dropped. "Did you?" he asked dejectedly. They didn't reply, and Arthur followed the soldiers who dragged them up the steps into the citadel.


Uther paced in agitation. "How long does it take for a report?"

"It might be nothing serious," Catrina commented calmly.

"With alarm bells?" Uther returned. The door swung open. Finally, some news.

Several soldiers marched inside with three men who were cast at his feet. Uther waved a hand at them. "Who are they? What have they done?"

"They interfered in the collection of the tax and attacked your knights."

"We only did what was right," one protested.

Uther stepped in front of him. "Your king decides what is right."

Elyan opened his mouth but had barely begun to speak when another voice loudly covered his. "Release them."

Uther glanced up, shock written across his face as Arthur strode in and took up position in front of the men.

"They have done nothing I myself have not done."

"What do you mean?" Uther inquired warily.

"I've ordered the coin returned. The tax is unfair. You cannot take it."

Uther's face went bright red and his eyes snapped to the soldiers. "Take them to the dungeon."

"I said..."

"Do not speak!" Uther roared.

Arthur fell silent. The men were hustled out of the room.

"On your knees."

"Father."

"You will show me respect in deed if not in word!"

Arthur slowly sank in submission before him.

"What have you done?"

Arthur stared straight ahead. "A crowd meant to attack the Citadel."

"And you stopped them by subverting my commands?"

"They are our people. We have had their their goodwill. You forsake that by making unreasonable demands."

"Is it so unreasonable for a king to expect his subjects to obey him?" Catrina spoke up. Arthur didn't even give her the decency of a glance.

"They'll starve," he asserted quietly.

"I have been assured they will not," Uther retorted.

"Then you have been misinformed."

Uther crouched down and grasped Arthur's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "You have been misinformed. You have not been in the meetings. You have a child's grasp of the situation and the law."

Arthur let his gaze fall to his lap when his chin was released.

"The people are not your friends, Arthur, they are your subjects. Your servant and a maid have misdirected your loyalties." Uther gestured to the guards at the door. "Take him to the dungeon."

As Arthur was taken away, Uther put a hand to a column and leaned into it. That it had come to this...

"You did the right thing," the kind voice of Catrina encouraged at his elbow. She laid a hand over his on the column. "He is a threat to your rule."

"I never thought Arthur...not him."

"You recall how you came to the throne?"

Uther closed his eyes. A tyrant of a king. An unhappy people. Himself a knight with honor and respect and the one they turned to. His violent takeover, coming to an end in this very room.

"You should execute him before it gets that far."

Uther's eyes opened and he pulled his hand away from her. "No."

"The people must know your retribution is swift."

"I will not kill him."

"Then disinherit him. Remove his power."

Uther moved away from her. Always threats to his rule, everywhere he turned. He marched to the door.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't answer, hearing only a prophecy in the back of his mind, a warning that his kingdom was doomed to end.


The soldiers directing Arthur to the dungeon had enough sympathy to guide him lightly. A door was wrenched open, and he was allowed to walk inside under his own power. The door locked behind him, and he passed his gaze over the three leaders of the mob in the cell next door. The one called Gwaine waved casually. Arthur huffed and moved to the pallet against the wall, settling down heavily.

"I see you didn't escape your father either," Elyan jeered. "Thought your father had the best for his people in mind."

Arthur didn't answer, unsure what to think anymore. His father probably still thought he was doing his best for his people. He leaned his head against the wall.

"Shut up, Elyan," another voice drawled. "He saved lives. At least give him some credit."

Arthur turned his head.

"I'm Gwaine."

"My servant told me."

"He's a good kid, your Merlin."

Arthur let his gaze roam to the dark dungeon hallway. I'm glad he's not here. Who knew what his father would do to anyone close to him now. Part of him wanted to rage, but confusion and despair was winning out, sending him plummeting into apathy. Nothing much mattered now. He had gone too far for forgiveness.

"We could get you out of here," Gwaine continued.

Arthur laughed in spite of the dire moment.

"Gwaine!" Elyan reprimanded.

"What? We could try anyway."

"You wouldn't make it down the hall," Arthur pointed out.

"Try us." The new voice caused Arthur to look back at them again. Gwaine had pressed himself up against the bars separating the cells. Elyan was standing, hard eyes on him. The deep voice belonged to the big man propped against the far wall. "Percival," he offered his name.

"You think I want you to injure, possibly kill guards simply obeying their king?"

Percival lowered his eyes. Gwaine raised his eyebrows and nodded once, seeing his point. Elyan growled in his throat.

"Is this all about your sister?" Arthur exclaimed. "Yes. I love her. And I swear on my mother's soul, I have never, ever defiled her. I have nothing but respect for her."

"It's more than Gwen," Elyan replied. He pulled up his sleeves, exposing his long scars. Arthur stared at them. "Nobles like you did this. Too threatened with the truth. You think because you're born into power you can do what you like."

Arthur rubbed at his lips. He'd been about to reply he wasn't like that, but it occurred to him that maybe he had been sometimes. Nothing had been out of his grasp, except perhaps his father's unconditional love.

"Percival's entire family was killed in a noble's raid. And Gwaine..."

"Your father's a king," Arthur interrupted, eyes passing to the scruffy chinned man studying him through the bars. "Merlin told me your mother was his..."

"Plaything," Gwaine finished for him.

"My father's never done that," Arthur whispered.

"But he's done enough," Elyan argued.

Gwaine stood and stepped towards Elyan. "Leave him be."

"Why, Gwaine? Because you feel sorry his ass is in here, too?"

"Because he's obviously put himself in harm's way for us!"

"This? It's a slap on the wrist. He'll be out of here way before us."

Arthur's forehead dropped to his knees as they continued to argue and the big man's voice joined in. He'd been in the dungeon before. A slap on the wrist was accurate, the punishment scaring him into continued compliance. But that had been a very long time ago when he was far younger and hadn't publicly gone against his father's orders. What would he do with him?

Heavy steps came from the hall. Arthur glanced up, the men next door stopped talking. Uther passed by, but didn't even glance his way. Arthur rose, stepping to the cell door, trying to ascertain where the man he had once idolized was going.


Uther twisted a torch from the wall when he reached the long rocky corridor. He managed several breaths through increasing fear. He had avoided this place ever since the dragonlord's capture. It was a risk even now. The creature could be lying in wait.

Uther shuffled lightly along the path, trying to make as little noise as possible. He came to the exit, stalled, steadied himself, then leaped onto the ledge, torch held aloft. His eye sought the chain, but cast upon a melted mass of metal. His chest constricted. He glanced up. "Are you here?" he yelled to the ceiling.

Drops of water pinging into puddles was the only response. He fell to his knees. The dragon had escaped. When? How? He should have checked! Should have been vigilant!

It had to be dead. It must be. It was the only explanation. He closed his eyes, the ghost of a Druid seer clawing at him, held back by guards, screeching. You have been weighed, Uther Pendragon, and found wanting! Your doom is foretold. When the last dragon has met its end, so will come the end of your reign!

Uther pressed his left hand over his eyes. He hadn't thought Ygraine would die to give him an heir, and he hadn't thought that heir would lead to the death of his kingdom. Tears dripped down his cheeks. How cruel his fate, his son a tool in his own destruction.

He stood, trembling. His jaw clenched, Catrina's advice echoing in his ears, but he could never kill his son, refused to give him up. He could fight fate. Turn Arthur around before it was too late. Even if his son would not understand until later.

He stumbled back towards the tunnel, heart breaking at what he knew he must do.


Arthur saw his father coming back down the corridor. He stared vainly, hoping for a look, for understanding, maybe just a moment of hearing him explain himself, but Uther strode past as if he didn't exist. He felt as if his rib cage folded in on his heart. He had become nothing.

His father's muffled voice filtered down the hall as he discussed with some guards. Then it quieted and two of them appeared at his cell door. Arthur stood back as they unlocked it, then entered, one in front of him, one behind, and ordered him to follow. They marched deeper into the dungeon. Arthur craned his neck back for a glance of his father, but he was gone.


Gwaine crossed an arm over the cell door, watching Arthur be taken away. "What's wrong with you, Elyan?" he mumbled.

"Gwaine," Elyan chastised exasperatedly.

"You're too full of hate." Gwaine glanced at Percival who had spoken. "It's not justice anymore. It's revenge."

Elyan slid down the bars to the left, arms around his knees.

"They hurt you," Percival continued. "But it wasn't this man."

"It wasn't Arthur Pendragon," Gwaine whispered. A chill shuddered down his spine at the unmistakable sound of a whip biting flesh. His eyes flicked to Percvial, then Elyan, who turned guiltily away. Gwaine concentrated on the hall as a strained cry pierced muted silence. "You hear that, Elyan?" he spoke softly. "That's the sound of nobility."


Author's Note: A few bits of the dialogue in this section come from the show.