Fic: Aftermath
Camelot had barely avoided obliteration at the hands of traitorous Morgana, the witch Morgause, and King Cenred. Now, the recovery began. Masons and carpenters were shoring up parts of the citadel that were almost brought down by Morgana’s destructive disappearance with Morgause. In the town, there was much clearing, cleaning and repairing to be done.
Sir Leon and the knights who had knelt with him in the courtyard waiting to be executed, attended the funerals of all those who were killed in their place when Morgana ordered her soldiers to fire their arrows into the crowd instead. The people were greatly touched by their show of respect.
With all the repairs, there was the talk among the townspeople and nobility about the king’s ward. It was said that her year-long abduction had driven the Lady Morgana mad, and that she actually assisted in the attack on Camelot, deposed Uther, then proclaimed herself queen. But, when their army was defeated, she was taken away again by her witch ally, Morgause. Maybe she would be gone another year and grow even more mad. It was said that the Lady Morgana herself was a witch.
However, that was nothing compared to the revelation made by Morgana that she was in fact the king’s daughter. She was of royal blood and the king did not deny it. This truly shocked the people more because of it’s implications. Who was the mother? Had she been a noble lady or a serving woman? Someone’s wife? Was the liaison mutual? And what of Queen Igraine, who was remembered with honor and love by the people? Had she already died or had the king been unfaithful?
Morgana was to wed Prince Arthur when he became king, everyone knew that. Was the king really prepared to marry his son to his daughter? Surely, Prince Arthur would never agree to such a union. It would have been an abomination to every decent person in the kingdom. Maybe the prince didn’t know she was his sister. Whatever the truth was, it was said to have broken the king.
King Uther Pendragon sat in his bedroom, in a chair, staring out the window. He’s hardly spoken since he was rescued from the dungeon and did not respond to anyone, not even his son. Gaius said the king probably needed time to sort out his feelings and come to grips with his daughter’s treachery.
Then without warning, Uther slipped out of his room, went to Morgana’s chambers and bolted the door behind him. He walked about the room, touching a pillow, a drape, remembering the little girl he loved.
Those first years of her life were hard for Uther; watching her grow up in another’s household, and calling another man “father.” Then, when Morgana came to live in his royal family when her ‘father’ died, Uther was overjoyed. His subjects considered him a decent and honorable king for taking in Gorlois’ widow, Lady Vivian and their daughter (in truth, his paramour and their daughter). Uther saw to it neither lacked for anything, especially Morgana.
On the dressing table, some of Morgana’s jewelry was still laid out. Uther sat on her bed and cried bitterly for his lost daughter while clutching the necklace he’d given her on her last birthday. All the years he’d loved her, protected her, overlooked her faults. “Ungrateful child,” he wailed. How could his own daughter be capable of such villainy?
But, more than that, Morgana had ruined his plans for a great dynasty, one that would be undisputed and continue for centuries. He had killed a wife to get a Pendragon son, and had cuckolded a dear friend to get a Pendragon daughter. It pained the king to think of the offspring that would have come from such a union - both parents Pendragons of his own blood - producing great kings to rule the land. And now it was all for nothing. The world knew the truth and the court would never sanction such a marriage.
Uther rage flared. If only he’d kept his mouth shut about Morgana. If only Morgana hadn’t regained a little bit of consciousness and heard him. If only she had kept her mouth shut, some of his plan may have been salvageable. If only…. Now, he was sure his reputation had been severely damaged among his subjects. “Traitorous bitch!” he screamed. He progressed about the room, toppling furniture and ripping apart pillows. He pulled down curtains and threw anything breakable against the walls.
Arthur sat on the floor outside the locked door to Morgana’s chambers, quietly listening to his father’s weeping, then his fury. As he sat, Arthur pondered his own feelings. He’d received several shocks over the last hours that needed sorting. He’d always wonder why he never really felt like a future husband towards Morgana; never felt like a lover to her, only loved her like a sister. Now he knew the reason. It was said that blood speaks to blood, perhaps it was true. To discover that a friend is actually a sister is a shock, but to learn the sister is also a witch is monumental. And he had to deal with the fact that there was now another legitimate claimant to the Camelot throne. It was almost too much to deal with all at once.
Arthur had started to doze leaning against the door when it suddenly opened. He looked up at his father standing over him and immediately got up.
“Father?” he said hesitantly. Uther face was set and resolute. Whatever decisions he had to make, they had been firmly made.
“Arthur, I want these rooms emptied,” the king commanded. “I want every piece of furniture and decoration broken and burned. Take the jewelry and remove all the gems. They will be reused. Then I want the metals melted down and reused. The clothes can be burned or given away, I don’t care which as long as they are gone from here. I want the chamber striped to the bare walls, is that understood?”
“Yes, Father, I’ll see to it personally,” replied Arthur.
“No, assign the task to Master Geoffrey,” Uther said. “I have another task for you. I want you and the knights to search every inch of this kingdom and find Morgana. Your other duties will be temporarily assigned to another until this is completed. I want Morgana found. I want her found and brought to me.”
“Yes, Father, I understand,” answered the prince. “And what of Morgause if she still lives?
“I care not about her half-sister,” said Uther. “If Morgause still lives, see that she does not.”
“Yes, Father,” replied Arthur.
“Morgana told me she truly hated me. Well, the feeling is now mutual,” snarled the king. “I will burn the witch. Daughter or not, I will see her tied to the stake, and I will light the kindling with my own hands.” With that, Uther strode back to his chambers, leaving his son with a sharp soul-searing chill coursing through his body.
“This was not going to end well,” Arthur thought. “Not for anyone.”