Fic: Breaking Emrys
Title: Breaking Emrys
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Characters: Mordred, Morgana, Morgause, Merlin, Arthur
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, hints of Mordred/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen and Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: 14A, for Mordred being creepy and 14A
Length: 2,010 words
Summary: “Mordred leans closer, whispers his words like poisoned arrows right into Emrys’ ear. “He cannot love, not the way you can.”” The plan is to break Merlin, before they kill Arthur.
Warnings: Mordred is creepy and needy. Morgana and Morgause are evil geniuses. Brainwashing, murder-planning, and general creepiness in abundance. I do not really expect that this story makes sense to anyone who is not in my head (23 people, at the moment).Also, have you seen the pairings?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the past plot or characters. (They own me). Neither do I own any rights to the song ‘Mordred’s Lullaby’, by Heather Dale
Notes: Usually, there comes a time every day when I wonder “How can I kill the boys off this time?” I blame the song ‘Mordred’s Lullaby’ by Heather Dale for making me think “How can I break the boys this time?” Also, I have not seen the new episode. How can I not write Creepy!Needy!Mordred?
I remembered that in the earlier tales, Morgause is Mordred’s mother, not Morgana. That works much better within the parameters of the show, doesn’t it? Sort of, anyway.
This story would make more sense if you suspend your beliefs and decide that Morgause is Mordred’s mother for a while.
Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Guileless son, I'll shape your belief
And you'll always know that your father's a thief
And you won't understand the cause of your grief
But you'll always follow the voices beneath
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty,
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty only to me
--Mordred's Lullaby, by Heather Dale
*** *** ***
The woman is warm, and she holds Mordred with a strength he does not receive from the Druids, introverted, self-focused people that they are.
He wonders, as the axe falls, whether this strength is like love.
*** *** ***
Mordred is older, and the woman rages as she paces in front of him.
Her words have long since stopped making sense to him, but he still listens to the tone and rhythm of her voice, until her sister comes and soothes her into silence.
The woman’s name is Morgana, Mordred knows this, but that is not what he thinks of her as. She is deep blue, Morgaine le Fay, a swirl of blue and greens and blacks.
She speaks words he does not understand, aunt, nephew, dear one, and her sister comes in and joins her, words like mother, Arthur, traitor, catching his attention.
They finish talking to him and move away, talking quietly amongst themselves, of revenge, of rights, of death. They think he does not hear him. He does.
They think he understands them. He doesn’t.
*** *** ***
He starts to link things together. Aunt and mother with the strength of le Fay’s hold as he shattered glass, revenge and death with Arthur, Arthur with traitor and father.
Only later, when le Fay’s sister starts teaching him, when le Fay starts telling him stories, does he link Arthur with the castle in a city and “Good luck, Mordred” in the forest.
Later still, he links Arthur with the man wearing a crown, a hand lowering, the axe cutting through bone, and Emrys with Merlin, le Fay’s illness, and words like poison and must be broken.
*** *** ***
After waiting for years, he’s back in the city, in Camelot, turrets high above his head and bad memories at every turn.
The woman who calls herself Morgause (to Mordred she is dark purple, swirls of black and blue, Anna Morgause le Fay and Mother) passes him off to le Fay through the same grate he came out of with The Traitor. They run through the castle, holding themselves close to the wall whenever they reach another hallway, and when they do, Mordred can feel le Fay shaking with giddy laughter.
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
He no longer thinks of himself as ‘Mordred.’ Instead, he is The Avenger, the boy, or Morgause’s son, tied by all the familial bonds to two women and their plan.
He speaks to Emrys during the night, sneaks into his room so he can see Emrys’ reaction better.
“He betrayed you,” the boy whispers into the darkness, and he smiles when Emrys starts, even though the boy thinks he should be used to his nighttime visits by now. “He betrayed you. He found out about your powers, and he betrayed you.”
“No!” Emrys says, his eyes wide and searching. No matter what he does, he will not be able to see Morgause’s son. “He came back for me! He came back to me!”
Be he is starting to sound uncertain, and the boy smiles in triumph. Le Fay’s plan is working.
“You saved his life, and he left you in the forest, with a bleeding cut across your chest. Tell me,” the boy says, stepping forward until he can draw a line down Emrys’ chest, over his heart. “Did it scar? Were you unable to heal yourself, out in the forest, all alone? Do you have a scar across your chest, to match the one he left in your heart when he married another?” The boy had darted away before Emrys tried to grab him, and now he circles the man slowly.
“Their marriage is platonic,” Emrys answers, shaking his head in panic. “He had to marry someone.”
“They why do they share a room?” the boy whispers tauntingly, trailing a hand across Emrys’ shoulders. “Why has he not visited your room for weeks?”
Emrys whirls around. “Who are you?” he demands furiously, as he does every time the boy visits him.
This time, Morgause’s son has an answer.
“I’m you, Emrys.” He whispers, before he fades away into the night.
*** *** ***
Morgana smiles when he returns to their rooms.
“It went well?” she asks, though she already knows the answer.
“Of course,” he says, and smiles a slow, triumphant smile he has learnt, like everything else, from her and his mother.
*** *** ***
He can feel himself changing, growing into himself. Things he learned before he knew his family have reconciled with all the knowledge he’s gained from his mother and aunt. Their strange words, customs, and beliefs have become facts, the only way of life.
He is no longer the boy but is The Man, Mordred, a man who wields great and terrible power with ease, and the great Avenger he sees in his future.
He understands now that The Traitor is his father, is The Traitor because he cannot give Mordred the kind of love his mother and aunt (his true family) can.
When he speaks to Emrys, he feels an excitement that thrills him right down to his toes, that makes him more daring, more intrusive with his touches, an excitement that makes his manhood stiffen and intrudes upon his dreams.
“How it must hurt,” he taunts Emrys, night upon night, “to know he can never love you back.”
“He does!” Emrys protests. “Arthur loves me, just as much as I love him!”
“No he doesn’t,” Mordred says, making his words a caress, his tone soft and comforting as it says the harsh words.
“Yes, he does.” Emrys says, and the words are almost a sob. Mordred can see him breaking more and more each night, his armour wearing thin, his insecurity showing in his eyes and his weakening magic.
“Oh Merlin,” says Mordred comfortingly, running an invisible hand down the side of Emrys’ face, “are you so blind that you cannot see it?”
“See-see what?”
Mordred leans closer, whispers his words like poisoned arrows right into Emrys’ ear. “He cannot love, not the way you can.”
“No!” the cry is wrenched from Emrys’ throat.
By the time the sound fades into the air, Mordred has already left and returned to his aunt’s rooms.
*** *** ***
His mother visits often, and together she and his aunt whisper love and encouragement into his ears, telling him of the progress of their plans and how well he is doing, how close they are to reaching their goals.
He works harder, pushing them all further down the path to the end.
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
“Does it hurt, knowing he loves another?” he asks Emrys.
“He does not love Gwen,” Emrys replies, his voice weak and empty.
Mordred moves closer, strokes Emrys’ hair back, leans in intimately. “I can see his future, his path,” he says. “It does not lead to you.”
Emrys stiffens against him and whirls around, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. “Who are you?” he whispers.
“I am you,” Mordred answers as always, leaning forward once more to press a kiss to Emrys’ cheek.
“You are not me,” Emrys says, almost a plea.
Mordred smiles against his skin. “Oh, but we are so much alike,” he answers, pressing his body against the other man’s.
“Who-who are you?” Emrys asks again.
Mordred’s smile grows wider as he whispers against Emrys’ lips. “I am his son.”
“What?” Emrys asks, disbelieving and stiff against Mordred.
“I am Arthur’s son,” Mordred says. Emrys shoves him away and wraps his own arms around himself protectively.
“Arthur doesn’t have a son,” Emrys says, but it is obvious that he doubts his own words.
“He never told you about Morgause?” Mordred asks. “About me?”
“Morgause?” Emrys gasps. “But-But you’re too old, aren’t you? He’d have been too young!”
“He never told you that he’d met Morgause before you did?” Mordred asks, his tone sympathetic, and though he knows, can sense as he says the words, that The Traitor never had met his mother before Emrys met her, he continues on with the script he has practiced.
“He promised her a future by his side,” Mordred says, as Emrys starts to shake and sits on the bed, arms still pressed tight around himself. “But as soon as he found out she was with child, he deserted us.
“I’ve spent my whole life trying to gain his love,” Mordred says, and almost snorts at the blatant lie. His aunt and mother provide all the love he could ever wish for. “But I have learned that he does not have any love to give.”
Mordred drops heavily onto the bed next to the shaking Emrys. “We have both spent our lives trying to make him love us, but it is hopeless,” he says, as tears start to stream down Emrys’ face. Mordred starts to kiss his neck, snaking an arm around the other man to keep them pressed together. When he next speaks, he speaks straight into Emrys’ mind as his mouth continues to kiss and nibble at Emrys’ neck.
“It is hopeless,” he repeats. “His path does not lead to either of us, Emrys.”
He removes the magic that keeps him invisible and Emrys gasps and stiffens. “Mordred?” he asks. “But you can’t be his son, he’d have been so young! He had no idea who you were!”
Mordred ignores the apparent truth to that statement, buries it under memories of his mother and aunt and their love. “I’ve always looked much older than I am,” he assures Emrys, kissing his ear. “And he helped me escape. Why else would he have helped an unknown magic wielder? He knows I am his son.”
Mordred lets his words sink in, but Emrys does not attempt to stand up for The Traitor. Mordred caresses Emrys’ face, holds his chin with a strong, comforting grip.
“You don’t have to be alone,” Mordred whispers with his mind, before capturing Emrys’ lips with his own.
Later, when they are lying side by side under the blankets on Emrys’ bed and Emrys starts to cry once more, great heaving sobs that shake his whole body, Mordred ignores it.
The plan has always been to break Emrys, after all.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Mordred allows himself to come just another betrayal Emrys has suffered through, another person who has abandoned him, and visits him only once more before the end. He waits in Emrys’ room until he comes stumbling in, face white and eyes perpetually haunted.
Mordred can feel the cracks in Emrys’ magic, can feel how weak and undefined his aura is, and it is easier than ever to break into his mind and speak there. He feels a surge of excitement and pride. Emrys, the legendary, foretold Emrys is becoming, more and more, just Merlin. The final blow will be Arthur’s death.
Emrys’ path is very short, very near to its end.
“His empire is crumbling,” Mordred says with his mind, and Emrys spins around, searching for the man who is once again invisible.
“What?” Emrys asks blankly. “You-did you? Lancelot and Gwen, was that you? Did you make them--?”
Mordred moves forward, chuckles darkly, runs a finger down Emrys cheek, does not deny Emrys’ assumption. “Humans are such fragile creatures. So easily broken.”
He holds Emrys close, tickles his ear with his breath.
“His empire is falling down,” Mordred says, his voice a slow caress, “thanks for your help.”
Emrys is stiff in his arms. “My help?” he asks, panicked. “I’ve never helped you!”
Mordred laughs, studies Emrys’ weakened aura, thinks of The Traitor, lonely but uncertain of his welcome were he to visit Merlin. He thinks of the dreams Emrys denies he has, of his screaming in his sleep, begging for Arthur to touch him, love him. He thinks of the uncertainty and hurt in the king’s eyes whenever he looks at Emrys, and then he looks through Emrys at Emrys’ shortened path.
“Oh yes you have,” he says, in a satisfied voice. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Fin
Guileless son, each day you'll grow older
Each moment I'm watching my vengeance unfold
Child of my body, the flesh of my soul
Will die in returning the birthright he stole
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty only to me
Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty,
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty only to me
--Mordred's Lullaby, by Heather Dale
End notes: In my mind, Uther is actually Mordred’s father. In the show, anyway. Much more likely than Arthur, in my opinion.
(Plus, I just like the idea of Uther with a magical child).
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Characters: Mordred, Morgana, Morgause, Merlin, Arthur
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, hints of Mordred/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen and Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: 14A, for Mordred being creepy and 14A
Length: 2,010 words
Summary: “Mordred leans closer, whispers his words like poisoned arrows right into Emrys’ ear. “He cannot love, not the way you can.”” The plan is to break Merlin, before they kill Arthur.
Warnings: Mordred is creepy and needy. Morgana and Morgause are evil geniuses. Brainwashing, murder-planning, and general creepiness in abundance. I do not really expect that this story makes sense to anyone who is not in my head (23 people, at the moment).Also, have you seen the pairings?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the past plot or characters. (They own me). Neither do I own any rights to the song ‘Mordred’s Lullaby’, by Heather Dale
Notes: Usually, there comes a time every day when I wonder “How can I kill the boys off this time?” I blame the song ‘Mordred’s Lullaby’ by Heather Dale for making me think “How can I break the boys this time?” Also, I have not seen the new episode. How can I not write Creepy!Needy!Mordred?
I remembered that in the earlier tales, Morgause is Mordred’s mother, not Morgana. That works much better within the parameters of the show, doesn’t it? Sort of, anyway.
This story would make more sense if you suspend your beliefs and decide that Morgause is Mordred’s mother for a while.
Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Guileless son, I'll shape your belief
And you'll always know that your father's a thief
And you won't understand the cause of your grief
But you'll always follow the voices beneath
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty,
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty only to me
--Mordred's Lullaby, by Heather Dale
*** *** ***
The woman is warm, and she holds Mordred with a strength he does not receive from the Druids, introverted, self-focused people that they are.
He wonders, as the axe falls, whether this strength is like love.
*** *** ***
Mordred is older, and the woman rages as she paces in front of him.
Her words have long since stopped making sense to him, but he still listens to the tone and rhythm of her voice, until her sister comes and soothes her into silence.
The woman’s name is Morgana, Mordred knows this, but that is not what he thinks of her as. She is deep blue, Morgaine le Fay, a swirl of blue and greens and blacks.
She speaks words he does not understand, aunt, nephew, dear one, and her sister comes in and joins her, words like mother, Arthur, traitor, catching his attention.
They finish talking to him and move away, talking quietly amongst themselves, of revenge, of rights, of death. They think he does not hear him. He does.
They think he understands them. He doesn’t.
*** *** ***
He starts to link things together. Aunt and mother with the strength of le Fay’s hold as he shattered glass, revenge and death with Arthur, Arthur with traitor and father.
Only later, when le Fay’s sister starts teaching him, when le Fay starts telling him stories, does he link Arthur with the castle in a city and “Good luck, Mordred” in the forest.
Later still, he links Arthur with the man wearing a crown, a hand lowering, the axe cutting through bone, and Emrys with Merlin, le Fay’s illness, and words like poison and must be broken.
*** *** ***
After waiting for years, he’s back in the city, in Camelot, turrets high above his head and bad memories at every turn.
The woman who calls herself Morgause (to Mordred she is dark purple, swirls of black and blue, Anna Morgause le Fay and Mother) passes him off to le Fay through the same grate he came out of with The Traitor. They run through the castle, holding themselves close to the wall whenever they reach another hallway, and when they do, Mordred can feel le Fay shaking with giddy laughter.
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
He no longer thinks of himself as ‘Mordred.’ Instead, he is The Avenger, the boy, or Morgause’s son, tied by all the familial bonds to two women and their plan.
He speaks to Emrys during the night, sneaks into his room so he can see Emrys’ reaction better.
“He betrayed you,” the boy whispers into the darkness, and he smiles when Emrys starts, even though the boy thinks he should be used to his nighttime visits by now. “He betrayed you. He found out about your powers, and he betrayed you.”
“No!” Emrys says, his eyes wide and searching. No matter what he does, he will not be able to see Morgause’s son. “He came back for me! He came back to me!”
Be he is starting to sound uncertain, and the boy smiles in triumph. Le Fay’s plan is working.
“You saved his life, and he left you in the forest, with a bleeding cut across your chest. Tell me,” the boy says, stepping forward until he can draw a line down Emrys’ chest, over his heart. “Did it scar? Were you unable to heal yourself, out in the forest, all alone? Do you have a scar across your chest, to match the one he left in your heart when he married another?” The boy had darted away before Emrys tried to grab him, and now he circles the man slowly.
“Their marriage is platonic,” Emrys answers, shaking his head in panic. “He had to marry someone.”
“They why do they share a room?” the boy whispers tauntingly, trailing a hand across Emrys’ shoulders. “Why has he not visited your room for weeks?”
Emrys whirls around. “Who are you?” he demands furiously, as he does every time the boy visits him.
This time, Morgause’s son has an answer.
“I’m you, Emrys.” He whispers, before he fades away into the night.
*** *** ***
Morgana smiles when he returns to their rooms.
“It went well?” she asks, though she already knows the answer.
“Of course,” he says, and smiles a slow, triumphant smile he has learnt, like everything else, from her and his mother.
*** *** ***
He can feel himself changing, growing into himself. Things he learned before he knew his family have reconciled with all the knowledge he’s gained from his mother and aunt. Their strange words, customs, and beliefs have become facts, the only way of life.
He is no longer the boy but is The Man, Mordred, a man who wields great and terrible power with ease, and the great Avenger he sees in his future.
He understands now that The Traitor is his father, is The Traitor because he cannot give Mordred the kind of love his mother and aunt (his true family) can.
When he speaks to Emrys, he feels an excitement that thrills him right down to his toes, that makes him more daring, more intrusive with his touches, an excitement that makes his manhood stiffen and intrudes upon his dreams.
“How it must hurt,” he taunts Emrys, night upon night, “to know he can never love you back.”
“He does!” Emrys protests. “Arthur loves me, just as much as I love him!”
“No he doesn’t,” Mordred says, making his words a caress, his tone soft and comforting as it says the harsh words.
“Yes, he does.” Emrys says, and the words are almost a sob. Mordred can see him breaking more and more each night, his armour wearing thin, his insecurity showing in his eyes and his weakening magic.
“Oh Merlin,” says Mordred comfortingly, running an invisible hand down the side of Emrys’ face, “are you so blind that you cannot see it?”
“See-see what?”
Mordred leans closer, whispers his words like poisoned arrows right into Emrys’ ear. “He cannot love, not the way you can.”
“No!” the cry is wrenched from Emrys’ throat.
By the time the sound fades into the air, Mordred has already left and returned to his aunt’s rooms.
*** *** ***
His mother visits often, and together she and his aunt whisper love and encouragement into his ears, telling him of the progress of their plans and how well he is doing, how close they are to reaching their goals.
He works harder, pushing them all further down the path to the end.
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
“Does it hurt, knowing he loves another?” he asks Emrys.
“He does not love Gwen,” Emrys replies, his voice weak and empty.
Mordred moves closer, strokes Emrys’ hair back, leans in intimately. “I can see his future, his path,” he says. “It does not lead to you.”
Emrys stiffens against him and whirls around, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. “Who are you?” he whispers.
“I am you,” Mordred answers as always, leaning forward once more to press a kiss to Emrys’ cheek.
“You are not me,” Emrys says, almost a plea.
Mordred smiles against his skin. “Oh, but we are so much alike,” he answers, pressing his body against the other man’s.
“Who-who are you?” Emrys asks again.
Mordred’s smile grows wider as he whispers against Emrys’ lips. “I am his son.”
“What?” Emrys asks, disbelieving and stiff against Mordred.
“I am Arthur’s son,” Mordred says. Emrys shoves him away and wraps his own arms around himself protectively.
“Arthur doesn’t have a son,” Emrys says, but it is obvious that he doubts his own words.
“He never told you about Morgause?” Mordred asks. “About me?”
“Morgause?” Emrys gasps. “But-But you’re too old, aren’t you? He’d have been too young!”
“He never told you that he’d met Morgause before you did?” Mordred asks, his tone sympathetic, and though he knows, can sense as he says the words, that The Traitor never had met his mother before Emrys met her, he continues on with the script he has practiced.
“He promised her a future by his side,” Mordred says, as Emrys starts to shake and sits on the bed, arms still pressed tight around himself. “But as soon as he found out she was with child, he deserted us.
“I’ve spent my whole life trying to gain his love,” Mordred says, and almost snorts at the blatant lie. His aunt and mother provide all the love he could ever wish for. “But I have learned that he does not have any love to give.”
Mordred drops heavily onto the bed next to the shaking Emrys. “We have both spent our lives trying to make him love us, but it is hopeless,” he says, as tears start to stream down Emrys’ face. Mordred starts to kiss his neck, snaking an arm around the other man to keep them pressed together. When he next speaks, he speaks straight into Emrys’ mind as his mouth continues to kiss and nibble at Emrys’ neck.
“It is hopeless,” he repeats. “His path does not lead to either of us, Emrys.”
He removes the magic that keeps him invisible and Emrys gasps and stiffens. “Mordred?” he asks. “But you can’t be his son, he’d have been so young! He had no idea who you were!”
Mordred ignores the apparent truth to that statement, buries it under memories of his mother and aunt and their love. “I’ve always looked much older than I am,” he assures Emrys, kissing his ear. “And he helped me escape. Why else would he have helped an unknown magic wielder? He knows I am his son.”
Mordred lets his words sink in, but Emrys does not attempt to stand up for The Traitor. Mordred caresses Emrys’ face, holds his chin with a strong, comforting grip.
“You don’t have to be alone,” Mordred whispers with his mind, before capturing Emrys’ lips with his own.
Later, when they are lying side by side under the blankets on Emrys’ bed and Emrys starts to cry once more, great heaving sobs that shake his whole body, Mordred ignores it.
The plan has always been to break Emrys, after all.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Mordred allows himself to come just another betrayal Emrys has suffered through, another person who has abandoned him, and visits him only once more before the end. He waits in Emrys’ room until he comes stumbling in, face white and eyes perpetually haunted.
Mordred can feel the cracks in Emrys’ magic, can feel how weak and undefined his aura is, and it is easier than ever to break into his mind and speak there. He feels a surge of excitement and pride. Emrys, the legendary, foretold Emrys is becoming, more and more, just Merlin. The final blow will be Arthur’s death.
Emrys’ path is very short, very near to its end.
“His empire is crumbling,” Mordred says with his mind, and Emrys spins around, searching for the man who is once again invisible.
“What?” Emrys asks blankly. “You-did you? Lancelot and Gwen, was that you? Did you make them--?”
Mordred moves forward, chuckles darkly, runs a finger down Emrys cheek, does not deny Emrys’ assumption. “Humans are such fragile creatures. So easily broken.”
He holds Emrys close, tickles his ear with his breath.
“His empire is falling down,” Mordred says, his voice a slow caress, “thanks for your help.”
Emrys is stiff in his arms. “My help?” he asks, panicked. “I’ve never helped you!”
Mordred laughs, studies Emrys’ weakened aura, thinks of The Traitor, lonely but uncertain of his welcome were he to visit Merlin. He thinks of the dreams Emrys denies he has, of his screaming in his sleep, begging for Arthur to touch him, love him. He thinks of the uncertainty and hurt in the king’s eyes whenever he looks at Emrys, and then he looks through Emrys at Emrys’ shortened path.
“Oh yes you have,” he says, in a satisfied voice. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Fin
Guileless son, each day you'll grow older
Each moment I'm watching my vengeance unfold
Child of my body, the flesh of my soul
Will die in returning the birthright he stole
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty only to me
Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty,
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty only to me
--Mordred's Lullaby, by Heather Dale
End notes: In my mind, Uther is actually Mordred’s father. In the show, anyway. Much more likely than Arthur, in my opinion.
(Plus, I just like the idea of Uther with a magical child).