Die, Die Again [5/9]
Fandom: BBC Merlin
Characters & Pairings: Uther/Catrina, Morgause, Morgana, Arthur, Merlin, Kilgharrah, Gwen, Gaius
Genres: Drama, Humor
Rating: T
Warnings: Violence and character death. So very many character deaths. Also asphyxiation, terminal illness, and mind-wipe.
Spoilers: Through 3x05, “The Crystal Cave”
Words: ~19,000
Beta: talesofyesac
Chapter 5: To Be, Not to Seem
Uther kept an eye on Merlin, wondering what special purpose the Great Dragon had for him. He was much more concerned, however, with keeping his family and country safe than with providing Merlin opportunities to prove or disprove his loyalty.
So when a vault of riches was found under the castle, Uther immediately ordered it sealed again, and brooked no disagreement.
"It is cursed," he said simply. "Leave it wait for someone more foolish and vain than I." Granted, that description fit himself before all this temporal tomfoolery started, but no one needed to know that.
Shortly after the resealing of Cornelius Sigan's tomb, "Lady Catrina" and her servant Jonas arrived. Uther had given her a lot of thought. Mostly he thought he would like to reclaim the dignity the troll had stolen from him, perhaps by slaughtering it in some spectacular fashion. However, one night he decided to take a walk around his vault. There he discovered an artifact he had entirely forgotten.
It was a torque of gold and silver, woven as an endless knot without beginning or end. Engraved in flowing script on the underside were the words esse quam videri.
When Catrina arrived with her tale of woe and her face of woo, Uther slipped it over her head and bid her never take it off.
The next day, she was upset. "It's Jonas," she admitted under questioning. "He persists in saying the most distressing things to me." She lowered her voice. "He thinks I am a…a troll! Could it be some manner of jest?"
"If so, I don't find it funny. Shall I have him executed?"
"Oh, no. I think banishment will be adequate." She sighed, and brushed her silken hand across his cheek. "I feel so safe with you, Uther. How fortunate I am."
"I am the one who is fortunate," he said, catching the fresh scent of lavender on her hair.
They married shortly after. No one had an inkling of what she really was - or rather, used to be. Although she still loved jewelry and other luxurious things, she did not press him to raise taxes or disown Arthur or any such nonsense. She was perfectly happy as long as she had sundry fineries and opportunities to show them off.
"I realize this all happened rather quickly," said Uther, walking outside with Arthur during the wedding festivities. The cold evening air buffeted pleasantly against his drink-warmed face. "But she…is like food to a starving man."
Arthur laughed. "She must be something if she's inspiring you to speak in poetry."
Uther gazed amorously at the moon. "Cake. Angel food cake. Soft, moist cake with sweet, creamy, delicious -"
"Father!"
"- Frosting."
"Honestly, father, I don't need to know the details!" Arthur's look of horror melted into amusement. "But as long as she makes you happy, I have no complaints."
Truly, the boy had his mother's grace and kindness. Uther was so overcome he pulled his son into a close embrace.
Arthur returned it hesitantly. "Strong wine tonight," he said, laughing nervously.
Uther stepped back, surprised. "Have I forgotten?"
"Forgotten what?"
"To tell you - how proud I am, how important you are to me."
At first, Arthur looked astonished. Then touched. Then furious. "How could you forget something like that?" he demanded, an angry blush rising in his cheeks. "What am I, a half-cooked roast?"
"Well, well, now we see how fragile is filial piety!" Uther blustered. He didn't know why; he thought Arthur was in the right. It was really just an instinctive reaction.
He should apologize.
He did not apologize.
He had hesitated too long, and Arthur stalked off.
Catrina joined him presently. "What's the matter with Arthur?"
"He's an ungrateful, spoiled brat. And a hothead," said Uther, not meaning a word of it.
Catrina drew her husband near, laying his head on her shoulder. "Poor dear. Wouldn't you be more upset if your son were nothing like you?"
Uther laughed. He had entirely forgotten how good it was to have a partner to share with, to provide much-needed perspective on one's problems. She truly was Queen Catrina now, and there was no one who could say differently.
#
"How could he just say a thing like that?" Arthur said, pacing a rut between the window and the desk. "'I'm proud of you! You're so important to me!'"
"How awful," said Merlin, who had never known his own father and was working on a cocktail of irritation and self-pity in response to Arthur's "problem."
"That pompous, overfed, boil-brained…" Arthur trailed off, unable to think of any other adjectives to describe his father. Merlin had plenty, but this wasn't the time. Arthur looked around the room, presumably ensuring Uther wasn't lurking behind a candelabra or something, before finishing, "-prat!"
Must run in the family, thought Merlin.
"He only said it because he was drunk." Arthur's tone was petulant, but Merlin could tell by the way he averted his eyes when he spoke that he was genuinely hurt.
Merlin slumped a little. Defending the king took a lot out of him, but sometimes it needed to be done.
"Maybe it's been so long since he's been happy, he's out of practice?" Merlin only meant it as a joke, to lighten the mood, but Arthur looked at him as if he'd said something profound.
"You don't understand. I do know how long it's been," Arthur said. "My mother died bringing me into the world. I don't think he's ever seen that as a fair trade."
"Your father could never blame you just for being born," said Merlin. He spoke so quickly and with such conviction that Arthur looked up at him in surprise.
"I think…I think I'll believe you today, Merlin."#
One morning a few days after the wedding, Merlin was collecting Arthur's clothes for the laundry when a delicate cough from behind him alerted him to the presence of the queen.
"If you're looking for Arthur, he's at the training ground, Your Majesty," said Merlin.
"Thank you," she said, biting her lip. "Although…I confess, I can't recall exactly where that might be."
Merlin smiled and offered to escort her, although it was out of his way. She accepted, twirling a delicate lace parasol over her shoulder. It was new, as were her gown, shoes and earrings. He liked Catrina, who always remembered his name (and the fact that he had one), but he doubted he liked her more than the jewelers, tailors, and merchants of Camelot did.
It had rained in the night and the ground was wet. Without even thinking about it, Merlin tossed one of Arthur's shirts down in front of Catrina as they walked. Then another and another, until they reached the ring where Arthur was training with his knights.
Arthur broke from the training to greet Catrina. As he did so, he looked back over her shoulder.
"Merlin! Are those my clothes?"
Turning back, Merlin realized with a groan what he'd done. Better yet, there was the king! Well, the day wouldn't be complete if his good deed went unpunished.
"What is this?" said Uther, pointing at the clothes as he approached.
Catrina turned around. "Oh, my - Merlin, did you do that?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," said Merlin, wondering how many pieces he'd be in when they sent him back to his mother.
"So I wouldn't get my shoes dirty?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Uther tilted his head at Catrina. "Dearest, those shoes cost more than Arthur's entire wardrobe. Do try to take better care of them."
Merlin began gathering up Arthur's scattered clothes, but Uther stopped him. He looked…what was it…? Amused? "The queen will need some way to get back to the castle."
"Father! I need those to wear," Arthur protested. Behind him, the knights were starting to laugh.
"I'll get them clean. I'll find something for the queen, too," Merlin said hurriedly. "Don't worry. Consider it done."
"This is not funny," Arthur was saying, as Merlin turned to head back to the castle. "I suppose you'd all be happy if I strolled about in the nude?"
At least one knight catcalled. They were always more courageous when they were in a pack. Merlin grinned. It might have been his imagination, but he even thought he heard Uther laugh.#
Late that night, Catrina gazed at herself in the full-length mirror, poking at her breasts. She had the strangest feeling that this was not how she was supposed to be. She thought back, but the only other body she could recall having was that of a young, pneumatic girl. Was that the problem? Was she simply feeling her age? And should her memory really be so hazy? She wasn't that old.
"Tell me something," she said, making a face and observing with distaste how many lines appeared on her forehead and around her eyes.
"Anything," said Uther, lolling about on the bed behind her. He was making a show of being relaxed, but she knew he peered at his own crow's feet and gray hair when he thought nobody was watching.
"There are a lot of pretty young things around. Princess Elena, Princess Vivian, the Lady Morgana…. Why not one of them?"
"Morgana?" Uther laughed, but there was a bit of an edge to it. "I doubt that's what her father had in mind when he entrusted her to my care."
"Now, now. It isn't as if she's your daughter. Don't tell me you never considered it."
"Certainly not. What kind of man do you take me for?"
Regardless of what kind of man he was, Catrina thought the king protested too much. But she had a long time to dig up her husband's secrets, if she wished.
"Never mind," she said lightly. "I didn't mean to pry. I was simply wondering why you would choose me, and after so much time alone."
"Because you're beautiful and kind," he said. "And you aren't twenty."#
Uther watched for her reaction in the mirror. She had it tipped down a bit so that he could see her face, and she could see his.
"Aren't you sweet?" She smiled, but it quickly faded into thoughtfulness. "You do favor Morgana over Arthur, though."
Uther frowned. "I do no such thing."
She turned around to return his stern look. "And you're so terribly obvious about it. You row with Arthur over nothing, but you let Morgana get away with murder. You are aware she's been slipping away from the castle at night?"
Uther's faced darkened further. He was, but he could hardly explain why he allowed it. The truth was, he had no good way of stopping Morgause from contacting Morgana, if Morgana wanted to see her. It would be one thing if Morgause could die….
In some ways, things would be so much easier if he let it be known that Morgana was his daughter. Catrina wasn’t the first to think Morgana would be a good match for Arthur, or even Uther himself. However, that was a minor annoyance compared to what Morgana might do if she knew she had a claim to the throne….
As he stewed, Catrina's expression softened. "I know very well how girls can wrap Daddy around their fingers, but boys need love too."
Uther had to smile a little at that. "I suppose we do."#
Catrina went to see Gaius six weeks after the wedding, complaining of pain in her legs and a general feeling of unease.
"Of course, my husband puts me through my paces daily," she said, laughing. "And twice on Sundays."
Gaius let that go with a raised eyebrow and continued to examine her silently.
"Let us go see the king," he said at last. When they arrived at the council chambers, Gaius had the room cleared.
"What on earth is so serious, Gaius?" Uther asked.
"As you may or may not know, I treated Her Majesty for an incurable bone disease in her childhood. I'm afraid it seems to have returned."
"With all due respect to the court physician, I hardly think I'm dying," said Catrina. "Perhaps I ate something that disagreed with me, but I can rest…."
Gaius shook his head solemnly. "I'm sorry, my lady. I can give you a potion to make you more comfortable, but there is no known cure."
Despite Gaius's diagnosis, Catrina seemed fine for the next few weeks. After a while, however, it became obvious that she was merely hiding her symptoms. She woke frequently in the night, ate less and less, and suffered from near-constant pain.
For the second time in his life, Uther could only watch helplessly as his wife died. And once again, her blood would be on his hands.
Die, Die Again Master Post
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