8. Ultimatum
"You dare to come before your King and ask such a thing of me?"
Uther stood rigidly before Aurelius in his private bedchambers, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his anger in check and address the King with respect; "Is it such a grand request, Brother? To be granted the freedom to love and choose ones own marriage mate?"
"You are no simple clotpole Uther, free to follow the whims of your over-driven manhood; you are a Pendragon; Crown Prince of Albion, second in line to the throne, how can you have forgotten your responsibilities so easily? Does she enchant you so completely?"
"My mind is still my own Aurelius!" retorted the Prince hotly, "And she is not some peasant girl of no breeding, she is a Princess in her own right! Why is this match so impossible to you?"
"I don't care a jot who the blessed woman is!" spat the King, lurching forward in his chair in rage. His face was gaunt and pale compared to the last time Uther had laid eyes on him. His once crystal green eyes were dull and his skin sallow. The thick mop of black hair that had graced his head was now greying and had receded considerably in the few short months his brother had been away. The war seemed to have taken a great toll on the King but still the fire and passion that Uther knew well burned now behind his sunken eyes.
"I would have thought that you of all people would understand," seethed Uther, leaning on his knuckles over the table that separated them, "You yourself must well know the despair of an empty marriage and a cold bed…"
"You miserable dog!" cried Aurelius, knocking his chair over backwards in his haste as he leapt to his feet in anger. No sooner had he stood than a bout of hacking coughs wracked his palsied frame and he was forced to rest heavily against the table for support. His anger forgotten, Uther rushed forward in concern, helping his Brother over to the bed and easing him down onto the covers gently. As he lay back against the pillows his coughing eased and Aurelius waved Uther away impatiently, struggling to make himself comfortable.
"How long?" asked the Prince quietly.
"How long what?" retorted the King gruffly, looking up at his Brother through hooded eyes, blood red and watering from the effort of regaining control of his breathing.
"How long have you been this ill?"
"Three or four months… Gaius does not know what ails me," he added, closing his eyes briefly in exhaustion. As Uther stood watching the prone form of his older Brother he was reminded of his Father lying in this same bed six years ago. So much had happened since then and now the younger man was given a stark reminder of how much had changed. The responsibilities of the crown that had seemed so distant and irrelevant to him as third in line to the throne now came crashing in on him as he realised what would be expected of him should anything happen to Aurelius…
"Is there nothing to be done?" he asked tersely.
"I believe the leaches have had their fill," Aurelius replied bitterly, shaking his head slowly in resignation, "My fate rests in the hands of the Gods now… which is why you must see that you cannot marry Lonán of Éire, the council would never approve and the country would be torn apart by the threat of war."
"Her Father would never go as far as war, surely!" protested Uther, "His men would be no match for all of Albion and its Knights!"
"Do not underestimate the anger of a Father, where his children are concerned," counselled the King, "Your duty as Crown Prince must come before the lust of your groin and the folly of your heart."
"Aurelius please-"
"There is nothing more to be said Brother, I must put the good of the country first. You will wed Ygraine as Father wished and Lonán must return to Éire."
"I cannot consent to that… she carries my Son inside her belly Aurelius, I will not reject her now!"
"Son or Daughter, that child will live and die a bastard and will not be recognised by this court!" barked the King suddenly, his gaunt face reddening in anger, "Hear me now Uther, you will do as I command or be officially disinherited!"
Uther stared aghast at his Brother, his mouth hanging open in shock that he would lay down such a proclamation. "Is there nothing I can say to convince you of my feelings for Lonán?" he asked quietly.
"Have you still not learned that your feelings are immaterial?" exclaimed Aurelius impatiently, "You are Crown Prince, your actions are dictated by the state and by your duty to the people… it is time you grew up and accepted your responsibilities."
The King's words sank slowly into Uther's heart, a cold feeling spreading out over his chest as he realised the futility of his argument, "Brother…" He began cautiously, choosing his words carefully, "Lonán's Father is an unforgiving man… if she is returned to Éire he may not accept her back at all."
"That is neither your concern nor mine," replied the King bluntly.
Uther wet his lips uncertainly, conscious that he was running out of options and desperate now to buy them some more time, "I see you leave me no choice," he began, his voice flat and disconsolate, "I simply ask that Lonán be allowed to remain here until our child is born, she is in no condition to travel in her present condition and marauder bands circle the land daily, it is not safe."
The King regarded Uther coolly from the bed, weighing up his request carefully, "But you concede that you cannot be wed?"
Pulling back his shoulders and drawing in a deep breath, Uther nodded his consent, "Ay Brother, I do."
"And you will submit to your betrothal to Ygraine?"
"Ay," he nodded again.
"Very well then," agreed Aurelius with a sigh, sinking back into the downy pillows with obvious relief, "Lonán may remain at Camelot to whelp her child and then they shall both be escorted back to Éire."
A heavy weight rested oppressively on Uther's chest as he bowed low to his Brother and made his exit from his chambers. It was a weight that wrapped its fingers carefully around the sinews of the young Prince's heart and slowly squeezed… until it seemed that only ash pumped darkly through his veins.