Merlin - The King or the Father
There's giggling.
Giggling.
Here. In the hall in the middle of the palace.
Uther frowns as he slows his pace and strains his ears to make out the noises that accompany the feminine laughter. But all he can make out are low youthful voices accentuated by the occasional low giggle or a muted chuckle. He frowns again, this time with true anger at the servants who should not be gallivanting about in the castle’s halls. Storming to the nearest alcove, he not-so delicately pulls away the tapestry, only to find it empty. Now steaming, he heads to the next alcove, but stops mid-stride when he finally begins to make out some of the words being spoken.
“…it’s true you know. You can see it when he looks at you. Like a poor lovesick puppy. Those deep eyes that gaze longingly after you whenever you walk by…” the voice is cut off by yet another giggle, and then the second voice pipes up.
“I seem to recall that someone else used to look at me like that too.” There’s a brief silence before the first voice responds.
“…You mean there’s been other men!?” Then both voices collapse into light laughter, and the king can’t bring himself to interrupt the obviously young and in love couple.
He remembers those days of his own youth, stealing small moments with Igraine.
And then the painful ache of her loss is there again, time having only dulled the pain slightly. He doesn’t notice that he voices have fallen silent and only return much lower.
Against his better instincts (the kingly ones), he ducks into the alcove he just pulled open and leans against the wall, soon lost in memories of happier days. He’s jolted out of them though, when full-out laughter peals from the nearby alcove, quickly silenced, but not quickly enough.
He knows that laugh, though he has not heard it in a long time…
Arthur.
He doesn’t know why it shocks him so much to hear his son with someone (obviously a servant, otherwise they wouldn’t be hiding in one of the palace’s least used halls), but it does. Maybe it’s because whoever this girl is, she’s somehow brought happiness to his son’s life.
Something he himself cannot do. He distinctly feels like he should be angry with him for cavorting with someone of lower station, but he’s never interfered with his son’s dalliances with servants before…lord knows they’ve all done it. But…he’s never seen him this…happy…with someone. It brings the father inside him some pleasure, even if he’s sure his high spirits will fade away, just as his enchantment with the girl will, just as everything else has.
Now the voices have moved, and are out in the open. In fact, they’re just standing there in the hall. He finally places the girl and her voice; she’s Morgana’s maidservant. A thought pops into his head at the realization; Morgana would surely kill him if he did anything untoward with the girl. He resists the urge to chuckle, knowing the situation is completely inappropriate for that. And he’d be discovered, he amends as he watches them tilt their foreheads against each other and his son runs his hand against the girl’s cheek.
“Goodbye, Gwen,” he whispers into her, and the servant girl-Gwen-, smiles sweetly at him.
“I love you,” she utters in a low voice, leaning her cheek into his open palm.
Suddenly Uther feels self conscious for spying, and he looks away, trying to lose himself in his thoughts once more.
But the words that slip from his son’s lips bring him back to reality like a bucket of ice water.
“And I you.” Arthur brings his other hand to her head and lifts his lips, kissing her forehead gently before swiftly dropping both hands and stepping away without a sound. He disappears at the end of the hall, leaving the girl standing there, holding her cheeks with a sad smile on her face.
Uther doesn’t know how long he sits in the alcove, thinking about everything but nothing. He tries to rationalize that his son’s just playing on the girl’s emotions, just trying to gain her trust.
But he knows deep down, the part of him that is a father and a husband, the part of him that still remembers her face and his promise to his son the day he was born, that part knows that this isn’t just words.
And while the king rails against this knowledge, the father embraces it.
He knows the king will eventually win out though.
It always has