Chapter Notes: Hello, my lovely readers. I apologise sincerely for how long this chapter took to write, but I had quite a block on me and I had to wait until I could get out something I was proud of. Especially due to the fact that this chapter is integral to the progression of Uther lifting the ban on magic. It is a touch short and for that I apologise. Yes, it is from Uther's POV as I obviously cannot use our dear lady Morgana, but it will pick up from her eyes as of next chapter. Until then, happy reading!
The door burst open with unruly force, and the feel of trepidation swarmed the air. "Morgana's been hurt." Arthur blurted to the king, who sat in startled bewilderment, still trying to recover from the shock of the thrown door. It took Uther quite a few moments of silence before the words made any sense to him, and then he was on his feet. Uther's eyes widened in fear and worry, and he was immediately consumed with grief. What should happen if his daughter died after all of the qualms they'd been having? Would she have known that he loved her? Releasing his emotions back to static, the great man stared down at the frantic face of his firstborn child, and with all the power of his kingship, he swept down upon him.
"How could this have happened? Where is she? Take me to her now." Quite often the rift between father and son was too great to be melded together by a single something, but one thing that both the king and the prince had in common was their common adoration for the daughter of Camelot. Uther's features softened a touch, and he reached out to gently touch the matted blond head of his boy, slicked down by a thin coating of blood. "You're harmed, my son. What has happened to you? Who else is hurt?" The air of the room was tainted by the poisonous emotions that leaked from both men, whose combined created enough anger and fear for that of a thousand.
"Our hunting party was attacked, Saxon's. Morgana fought, but in the end... Leon would have died, save her using sorcery. She stopped the Saxon's with some sort of magical bomb, but not before one of them caught her with his sword. Gaius says it has nicked her lung, and she will be gone before the sunset." Arthur could hardly choke out each syllable, and Uther could barely take them. Neither man wanted to see the death of Morgana, but she had used magic, and that was upon the pain of death as it's own punishment. Uther's gloved hand ran through his greying hair as he tried to contemplate the loss of his daughter. For quite a while, both men walked in silence.
The king surged within the room of the physician, who was curled over a limp and fragile body. A terrible smell filled the room, and the sound of ragged breathing came from the form on the table. When Gaius moved from view, Uther caught his first sight of his daughter, and nearly collapsed in agony. The princess' body was covered in her own blood, and more still soaked into her lungs, which he could clearly hear from her wet gasps for air. What blood could be siphoned up was by towels, other than that, Morgana was dying, and painfully. Uther knew that even before Gaius spoke.
"Sire, I am sorry. There is nothing medical that can fix this. The blade punctured her lung, and even as we speak the princess drowns in her own blood." The old man croaked out unhappily, the death of his princess clearly affecting him as well. Gaius tried to ward Uther away from the girl, but the king's arms found their way around her body, and his sob filled the air with pain and sorrow. The dilapidation of this snow white girl, so full of vibrance only a short time before, was what drew the strength from the king, who clutched his daughter's body with such fear, as though she might break like a fragile pane of glass.
Uther's eyes found Gaius, and there was so much pain in the depths of the usually cold brown hues, that it took even the physician by surprise. "Morgana cannot die." The king begged, his arms holding the limp body even tighter as it breathed a heavy breath into the room. He looked back down at his child, seeing her in similar fashion to the ghost of herself as a child. Though he knew that she had used magic, the thought of loosing her brought nothing but pain and unhappiness to the already hallowed heart of Uther Pendragon. God would have to forgive him for the treachery that was allowing magic.
"I'm sorry, my lord. There is no way that I can save her. Morgana will succumb to death in a hour's time." Gaius looked down when he spoke the words that he hated even telling himself, but Uther would not have them. He stood from his place at his child's side and gently swept back her disarray of black locks to cup her cold cheek in his gloved palm. With a sigh, he kissed her forehead before he went to Gaius, gripping the shoulder of his physician. The old man looked wearily into the eyes of his king, and knew that he would not like what words he would hear next.
"You will use whatever means necessary to save my daughter. Including sorcery." The king ordered, before he swept from the chambers, leaving his soul behind him.