Disclaimer: see previous chapters
Note: gwyllgi - a Welsh creature of legend, appears as a black dog with red flaming eyes; generally a portent of death
Even the guards posted outside the thick oak door winced a little as they heard King Uther Pendragon of Camelot rage at his only child and heir inside the King's private chamber.
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!!" roared Uther as his son stood silently before him, stoically weathering his father's storm of fury. It was, after all, no more than he had been expecting.
Arthur let his mind wander as his ears tuned out the particulars of his father's tirade, waiting for a break in the rant so that he might try to explain further.
Gwen had pleaded with him not to go to the King just yet but Arthur's mind was made up – he had spent too long avoiding his feelings for the curly-haired woman and until he had arrived at the outlying town to fetch her, Arthur hadn't realised how close he had come to losing her. He felt sick at the thought of never seeing Gwen again and the time had come to make known his love for her.
He returned his attention to the present as his sire stood in front of him. "You cannot, you will not do this." Uther's voice was dangerously quiet.
"I have already decided. My lord." Arthur's tone matched the steel in his King's.
"Then you shall be disinherited. This kingdom has always been ruled by nobility and that will never change." Never in Uther's wildest fantasies did he think he would ever be having this conversation with his son. It had been surprise and disappointment enough when Arthur had informed him that no, he would not be getting married to the copper-haired young lady all the land thought he had been courting with serious intent. This, however, surpassed all previous surprises. And disappointments.
This last statement, Arthur had been expecting but to hear it spoken aloud still hurt him deeply. He stared straight ahead, focusing his vision on a point on the wall. "Very well, if that is your wish."
Uther's voice softened, became pleading. "Arthur, my son," he beseeched, "it is not my wish but it cannot be any other way if this is the course you choose to take. Camelot is an old and noble kingdom built on honour and dignity and must be ruled as by such."
"Guinevere is as honourable and dignified as any of Camelot's knights and nobility."
"She is a servant."
"Not to me. My heart belongs only to her and I can think of none other more deserving." Arthur paused for a moment, considering his next words. "Father, Sire, the hour is late and it seems there is nothing more to be said this night. I bid you goodnight and hope to find you more reasonable in the morn." With that, the younger man turned and strode smartly out of the room leaving his father speechless with anger.
"Well?" asked Merlin of his friend. He already knew when Arthur told him what he was going to do that things weren't going to go well – he just didn't know how badly.
"Could have been better but as expected, I suppose." The Prince sat on his bed, the confrontation with his father had left him more shaken than he thought and he really wasn't sure what future lay ahead. He knew his father well enough to recognise that the King's threat to disinherit him was not an idle one.
The sorcerer said nothing, instead, silently sympathised with Arthur.
"Merlin?" There was a hesitancy in Arthur's voice. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
"What is it?" Merlin couldn't remember ever seeing the blond man this unsure of anything, not even when facing certain death with the Great Dragon.
"That girl Freya. You cared a lot for her didn't you?"
"Uh huh…" Merlin became a little more guarded. Arthur knew his servant had been fond of the druid girl but what he did not know was that the slender man had been prepared to give up everything to begin a new life with Freya in a place where no-one could find or persecute them.
"Would you have done anything for her?"
Merlin's blue-grey eyes closed briefly and when he opened them, they had darkened to a deep grey and were focused on memories of his lost love.
"Yes," it was almost a whisper. "I would have died for her."
Arthur watched Merlin contemplatively. He had not realised how deeply his servant and friend had felt for the girl and he never ceased to be amazed by Merlin. He would never admit it but he relied a lot on Merlin's support and friendship and he hoped that it was returned.
The two men completed their evening preparations in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Gaius stood patiently as his King continued to vent his frustration, pacing up and down the throne room.
"There's nothing for it, the girl will need to be sent away, Morgana will simply need to find another maid." Uther turned to the elderly physician. "Well?" he demanded.
"What would you like me to say, Sire?"
"I want you to tell me that you agree with me!"
Gaius took a few moments to choose his words as Uther waited expectantly. Finally, he spoke. "My lord, as you know, I have served your family for many years, for yourself and for your father before you. I watched you grow from an obstinate and determined boy into an equally determined and stubborn man and I think it would be safe to say that Arthur takes after you in many respects."
Uther looked at the older man in bemusement. "That wasn't quite what I was hoping to hear. You have more to add?"
"Arthur shares your personality more than you think. Do you remember the time when you were fifteen and you went tearing off after the gwyllgi in spite of your father's dire warnings against it?"
The King could not help but smile at the long-ago memory. His cousin had reported sighting one of the dreaded black dogs and the teenaged Uther could not resist an adventure to find out the truth of their existence. The old King had expressly forbidden any such attempt due to the fact that it would lead him to the dangerous borderlands where fighting with the neighbouring kingdom had escalated into ferocious skirmishes and the chance of death was quite real. Nevertheless, Uther had gone, sword in hand and he had returned safely but only after finding that the 'black dog' that had been seen was actually his cousin's family hunting dog which his cousin had disguised to lead Uther on a wild goose chase.
"That was different."
"I agree, a different situation, but I was merely trying to illustrate how similar your temperaments can be. If you drive him away, you will never get your son back." Even as his words left his mouth, demonstrated their similarities, Gaius also saw their stark differences. Uther's almost fanatic adherence to the ancient codes of behaviour were born partly of his own father's attitude but more so, it had come from the consequences of his bargaining with the witch Nimueh and the need to use the sons of all the noble families to protect Camelot from magic.
Arthur, on the other hand, was not weighed by such chains of guilt. He had the vigour and wonderment of youth (even with the responsibilities that came with his position in life) and though he wasn't conscious of it, the Prince had inherited not only his mother's fair looks but also Ygraine's openness to life and all the possibilities that lay within.
"A servant cannot be worthy of such a role," Uther maintained stubbornly.
"Sire, I must disagree. I know Gwen and there is no truer soul than her. You question how worthy she is of Arthur's love but you might also ask if he is worthy of hers."
"That is your honest opinion?"
"It is, my lord."
Several days had passed with relations between King and Crown Prince remaining tense to say the least. Uther had been trying to find out as much about Morgana's maid as he could and all reports he got were impeccable. The only fault, if you could call it that, was the fact that she was a servant.
The young woman at the centre of the conflict, meanwhile, had been keeping a low profile tending to her duties as usual and really only having contact with Merlin. Gwen had tried to avoid Arthur, she was very conscious that the King was scrutinising her every move and would not look kindly upon seeing her and his son together.
As she walked along the courtyard path, Gwen let out a yelp of surprise as an arm reached out and pulled her into an alcove. Arthur put a finger on her lips to quieten her then replaced his finger with a tender kiss.
"I haven't seen you all week," he admonished her gently.
"I know," she replied sheepishly, "but I couldn't, it's not right." She held his hand, clasped it to her. "I have missed you, you know."
"I should certainly hope so," he teased her with his most arrogant tone. Arthur became serious. "Gwen, do you trust me?"
A worried crease appeared between her brows. "Of course, I trust you with my life." Her voice took on a note of suspicion. "What are you doing?"
Arthur checked quickly around him, "Meet me tonight at the stables, after the last bell sounds from the gates. Dress warmly."
Gwen pulled her cloak tightly around her against the cool night air.
"Psst. Guinevere." Arthur's hushed voice came from a corner of the stables before her Prince appeared leading two horses, both saddled and behind them, another two packhorses, laden with various bundles and items.
Gwen looked at him in alarm. "What are you doing?" she hissed quietly.
"We ride. Tonight. We can go anywhere you please, we won't need to pretend anymore." There was a feverish glint in Arthur's eyes.
"Arthur, you're insane!" Gwen gestured at the horses. "we can't just leave, what would the King say? Merlin, Morgana, everyone."
"They don't matter. You're what matters to me and if we cannot be together here, then we will go elsewhere. Guinevere, I don't want to be King if I cannot have you as my queen."
The love and sincerity that shone from Arthur melted Gwen's fears and doubts. She knew that she could never be without him. "But I haven't had a chance to say goodbye."
"I know," he said quietly, "but there's no time. I left a letter, my father should find it tomorrow." He held out his hand to her. "It's now or never."
Gwen smiled gently at him, all her love and trust there for Arthur to see as she took his hand and they hugged tightly before moving to mount their horses.
From the shadows stepped a tall and imposing figure.
"Arthur Pendragon," a strong voice boomed.
The young man, with one foot in his stirrup, turned at the sound of his name and his face blanched. Behind him stood Uther Pendragon, a stony expression on his face as he held up a roll of parchment.
"What is the meaning of this?"