Imagination

He watches as she tends his father. His father, the king, his mind now gone. Feeble. Moments of clarity only.

He knows she has no love for Uther. He knows she tends the king for him. Because of her love for him, she will take gentle care of a man she despises.

A man she has every right to loathe.

As he watches from the doorway, unseen, the images before him shift, and he sees her not bending over his father, adjusting the pillow behind his back, but bending over a cradle, tucking in a babe, singing softly.

A strong son, an heir to the throne. A stout lad with his father's adventurous nature and his mother's level-headed wisdom. How he would tutor the boy in ways of combat and strategy. His mother would teach him diplomacy and kindness. The ideal future king.

Or perhaps a darling baby girl with her eyes and curls and pouting lips, another soul to ensnare his heart. He would do her every bidding, if he had a daughter. He knows this. She would wind him around her little finger and he would be her puppet. Her mother would have to be the one to say no. There's no way he could do it.

"Horsey, Daddy!" He imagines a tiny squeal, and he drops down to all fours, caring nothing for the hard stone beneath his knees.

He imagines the day that his son, perhaps aged 16 or 17, defeats him on the training field. How proud he would be.

He would train his daughter to fight, too. She would be gentle and wise but know how to wield a sword.

Of course, perhaps he would have to pass that task on to someone else. He didn't think he would have the heart for it.

"Arthur?" Her soft voice harkens him back to the present. He looks over to see his father snoozing comfortably.

"Hi," he says, smiling at her.

"Are you all right? You looked a little far away there." Her hand touches his face, a ghost of a touch. She glances over her shoulder to make certain that the king is still asleep.

He closes his hand around her fingers before she can withdraw. "I'm fine. I was just watching you. And thinking." He kisses her fingers, each one in turn, as he talks.

She blushes slightly, pulling them out of sight of his father, should he wake. "Do I need to ask what about?" she asks softly.

"You might be surprised, my love."