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Chapter 30: Jealousy

At supper that night, Morgana bragged about how she'd beaten Uther in a race. Arthur stared at his plate, growing more and more sullen with every word. Uther took him out riding sometimes, but they'd never had a race. Why had he taken Morgana out without inviting Arthur along anyway? It wasn't fair.

No one seemed to have noticed Arthur's bad mood. Hunith and Merlin were listening to Morgana with smiles, asking questions about the race and the ride.

"He probably let you win," Arthur muttered sourly, viciously spearing a chunk of meat on his knife. He wasn't sure why he said it, exactly. He just wanted Morgana to stop bragging.

"He did not," Morgana tossed her hair back, sounding offended.

"She's right, I didn't. She bested me fair and square." Uther smiled at Morgana and she smiled back at him, as if they were sharing something just between the two of them.

Something in Arthur snapped, his sullen mood erupting quite suddenly into fury. Before he knew what he was doing, he had thrown his knife down and leapt to his feet so forcefully he knocked his chair over. It fell with a crash, drawing all eyes at the table to him.

"Arthur, what in God's name-" Uther began. The warm smile he had had for Morgana had been replaced by sternness as he looked at his son. The anger in Arthur's chest burned hotter.

"I'm not hungry," he said angrily. He felt like yelling, but he couldn't quite bring himself to raise his voice to his father.

"And not being hungry is an excuse for behaving like you're in a tavern?" Uther's anger was cold, not scorching like Arthur's, "Sit down at once, and act like a prince, not a brawling peasant."

Ordinarily, Arthur would have instantly obeyed his father's command. But this time he was too angry. In fact, Uther's scolding words only made him even angrier. He hadn't scolded Morgana when she had yelled at him at a feast in front of everybody. But Arthur knocked over his chair at a private family meal and his father was calling him a brawling peasant? It was so unfair it made Arthur want to scream. To show his father just how much like a "brawling peasant" he could act. But some part of him was too proud to make a scene like that and prove his father right.

Instead he tried to match his father's cold tone (with little success, his voice shook with anger, but at least he avoided yelling.)

"Well I'm sorry I can't be as perfect as Morgana! I'm going to bed. I'm sure you'll all have a much nicer supper without me!"

He turned on his heel, and marched away, catching a glimpse of the faces of the others as he did so. Merlin looked shocked, and Morgana confused. Hunith meanwhile, had a thoughtful look on her face. But Arthur didn't have time to wonder what that meant.

"Arthur!" His father's warning tone behind him was laced with shock. Arthur felt a stab of satisfaction, but he didn't turn back. He marched out of the room, purposefully letting the door slam behind him. Then he ran, he ran all the way back to his own room, ignoring the startled faces of servants and guards as he raced past them.

When he got to his room, he slammed his own door too. It felt good. Then he picked up the pillows from his bed, one by one and threw them as hard as he could. They bounced off the far wall, landing on the floor with a plop that was too quiet to really be satisfying, so he picked up a goblet from his nightstand and threw that too. The crash it made was so loud he half-expected guards to come running.

He looked around for something else to throw, but already the rage that had overcome him so suddenly was draining. Taking its place was something else, something that felt a whole lot worse than the anger. Arthur felt a lump in his throat and a burning in his eyes.

He blinked furiously. He would not cry. He would not cry. He was too old to cry. He hadn't even cried when his father told him that Gorlois was dead; it would be silly to cry over something like this. Whatever this was. What was wrong with him?

Slowly, deliberately, Arthur walked across the room and retrieved his pillows. He placed them back on his bed, then sank down on it, grabbing one of the pillows and burying his hands in it, clenching it tightly as he tried to sort out his own confused emotions.

He was jealous, that's what it was. But not jealous like he'd been when Cenred bragged about having a real sword, or when he had watched the older boys go on hunts before he'd been old enough to go himself. No, this jealousy ran deeper. This jealousy hurt.

He remembered the smile Morgana and Uther had shared, and his eyes burned again. He clenched the pillow harder. He was sorry Morgana had lost her father, he really was, but that didn't mean she could take his.


Supper was a silent affair after Arthur stormed out. Uther had been ready to march after his son and demand an explanation for his behavior, to order Arthur to come back and apologize at once. But as he'd started to rise, Hunith had stopped him with a touch on his arm.

"Just give him some time to cool down," she murmured, and there was an odd look in her eyes, as if she understood something Uther didn't. So he had settled back into his chair and turned his attention back to his food.

The other two children seemed to have been struck mute by Arthur's display. As they all ate in silence, everyone suddenly seeming very interested in his or her own plate, Uther's anger dwindled, replaced by confusion. Arthur had never behaved like that before. He fought and squabbled with Merlin and Morgana, sure, but he had never spoken to Uther like that, nor stormed out of a meal. He had certainly never defied a direct order from his father.

So what had provoked such a reaction? Uther thought back over the conversation that had been going on before, but it all seemed harmless. They had been talking about the race. Surely Arthur couldn't be so cross because Morgana had won a silly horse race?

"May I be excused?" Morgana's voice broke Uther out of his thoughts, and he looked around to realize everyone had finished eating.

"Of course," he replied.

"Good night," he added, as she rose.

"Good night," Morgana replied.

"Why don't you go along to bed as well, Merlin?" Hunith said, "I'll be along in a few minutes to tuck you in."

Merlin said his goodnights and trotted off without complaint. Uther kept his seat at the table. He knew by now that if Hunith sent Merlin off without her, it meant she had something she wanted to say to him in private. He could guess what topic was on her mind tonight.

"I don't know what possessed Arthur," he said, speaking first "He has never behaved this way before." Some of his earlier annoyance at his son's actions returned, though there was an undercurrent of concern as well.

Hunith looked surprised, "I thought it was obvious what was wrong."

"Obvious?" Uther shook his head, bewildered, "It certainly isn't obvious to me."

"He's jealous," Hunith answered quietly.

"Jealous?" Uther repeated, feeling lost, "Of what?"

Hunith looked mildly exasperated, as if she thought he was being particularly oblivious. "Of Morgana," she said, in the patient tone she usually reserved for explaining things to Merlin, "You said yourself that you weren't sure how he would react to her coming to live with us."

Yes, Uther had said that. And now that Hunith had put it into words, it did seem obvious. Arthur had been snappish when he'd said that Uther had probably let Morgana win the horse race, and it was almost immediately after that that he had blown up.

"He was angry because I took her out riding today," he said aloud.

Hunith nodded, "I'm sorry, I should have foreseen that when I made the suggestion."

Uther shook his head, "No. I'm glad you suggested it. I think it helped things with Morgana a lot."

He frowned, "But why did Arthur get so upset? I've taken him out riding many times."

Hunith shook her head, "The riding was only the spark that set it off, it's not the root of the problem. I think… Arthur is afraid that Morgana will replace him somehow. He sees you bonding with her, and he's afraid it means you will have less love for him."

Uther could feel his frown deepen, "Gorlois said something similar once, about why Arthur was having trouble with the idea of me marrying you."

"He was probably right about that," Hunith answered with a nod.

Uther sighed, "I never intended to make Arthur feel any such thing."

"Of course not," Hunith put her hand on his arm, "Children don't always think rationally, or the way we adults might expect them to. They're still learning how to deal with their own emotions, and sometimes what seems obvious to me and you doesn't feel that way to them."

"Sometimes what seems obvious to you doesn't feel that way to me either," Uther said wryly and Hunith laughed.

Uther smiled despite himself, though he quickly grew serious again, "What do I do about Arthur? How do I show him that Morgana's coming into our lives hasn't somehow…. diminished my love for him?" Arthur had seemed to adjust to Hunith and Merlin's presence more or less on his own, but Uther had a feeling it wouldn't be so simple this time.

Hunith looked thoughtful, "I think you taking Morgana out alone made him feel a little left out. Maybe you could take him out, just the two of you. And beyond that…. Just tell him exactly what you just said to me. That you don't love him any less, that you never will."

It was nearly the same advice Gorlois had given him, Uther recalled. Back then, he had been skeptical of how easy his friend made it sound. It didn't seem any easier now. But he knew it was important. Talking to Arthur about his mother hadn't been easy either, or even taking Morgana out riding today, but he had done both of those things.

He nodded decisively, "All right, I'll take Arthur out to do something as soon as I can."

He met her eyes, "Thank you."

I don't know what I'd do without you, the thought surprised him, more than that, it made him feel oddly shaken. He didn't voice it aloud. Instead, he stood slightly stiffly, and bid Hunith good night.

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