Disclaimer: Merlin and all its characters don't belong to me, nor is any money made. For the fun of it, only!
The whisperer kept her eyes down as she passed through the sunlit hallways of the citadel of Camelot. With a basketful of freshly laundered bedsheets cradled in front of her, no one questioned her presence, leaving her free to go where she willed. She closed her eyes and reached out with her magic, letting it fill her senses to tell her if the ones she must avoid were there- the prince, his sorcerer, the physician, and the serving girl, Guinevere. They were the suspicious ones, the ones who might see through her servile facade to find Morgause's webs beneath.
They were far away, all of them. She slipped through the door and closed it softly behind her, setting the basket on the bed as she drifted through the king's chambers, savoring the sight before her- Uther Pendragon, the bane of her kind, slouched in his chair, eyes vacant. A line of droll was beginning to make its slow way down his chin through days' worth of stubble. A thorough scrubbing could not clean the faint stains out of his linen nightshirt.
"Majesty," she said, her voice laced with a scorn he could not register. "How far you fell. Undone by your own daughter. I appreciate the irony, to know that the very force you were fighting against manifested so strongly in the girl you held so close." She smoothed the blanket over Uther's arm and bent to whisper in his ear. "And all of it could have been avoided, if only you could have kept to the oath you swore to your wife. Men," she hissed, "So proud to proclaim your virtues, and yet you abandon them so quickly at the sight of a beautiful woman."
She laughed and stroked his unruly hair, sending tendrils of magic into his mind to ensure he heard. "Gehieran me." Uther's chin rose. He tiled his head toward her, a cloudy confusion in his eyes. "Morgana broke your heart and your will when she claimed her throne. You loved your bastard daughter, yet how much more do you love your trueborn son? How much more would it hurt to know that a sorcerer is at his side, whispering into his ear, turning your beloved Arthur against everything you stood for?"
Uther's brow furrowed. The whisperer kept the gleeful smile off her face, "And how terrible would it be to discover that the sorcerer corrupting your son is the very servant you gave him all those years ago? It's Merlin. Merlin is the one turning Arthur against you. Merlin is the one working to destroy your legacy. Merlin is the one who would destroy Camelot to avenge his kind." She wrapped her fingers around his, the way a lover might. "Great king, you are all that stands between Camelot and its ruination. You must rise up again and destroy the pestilence that threatens your son. Only you can save Arthur. You must destroy Merlin. Only then will Arthur be safe." She brushed the unruly strands of his thinning hair down, her eyes flashing gold as she closed the spell around him, "Gemunan."
She watched him for a time, waiting for the spell to take hold, and at last she saw it happen, saw the confusion give way to anger, then hatred, then resolve. Satisfied, she gathered up the laundry and slipped out of the room, leaving Uther to soak in the dark thoughts she had planted within his mind.
In the darkness of his chambers, bound by a witch's spell woven of hatred and destruction, Uther Pendragon began to wake up.