FIC: The Royal Inquisition, (A/G, Uther/Igraine), G, 1/3
The Royal Inquisition
Part OneChapter: 1/3
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Uther/Igraine, Merlin-Arthur BFFness
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC. All the subsidiary characters are named after people from tv shows, books and films, even the ‘first King’ of Camelot. “Wolves, Witches and Giants” is named after a children’s tv series narrated by Spike Milligan.
Summary: When the King of Camelot finds out his son is in love, he summons the woman to the castle to prove that she is very much worthy of his son’s (and his) affections. Completely AU and loosely based on the fairytale, The Princess and the Pea. For hmsharmony ’s Spring Fling prompt over at camelot_love : F-111. After finding out about A/G, Uther proposes the following: Arthur may marry Gwen if Gwen proves that she's worthy of the title of queen. Split in three parts due to length.
A/N: Magic is very much prevalent in Daddy Uther’s world. Many thanks to the wonderful hmsharmony for allowing me to use and alter her prompt and also to the magnificent _autumncolours , whose magical-superhero powers alphabetamegatron skills ensured that this didn’t suck and made me feel like a poor man does when told he is rich.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three
***
It was no big secret that the King of Camelot’s greatest desire was that his son not repeat history and make the same mistakes he did. That is, he wished his son never to fall in love with a beautiful lady, for him to marry and have a child with her, only to have her run away soon after and become a pagan queen of the forest and break his heart in the process.
Although Igraine kept in contact and occasionally visited the castle to see her son, Uther could not reconcile this liberated, tree-dancing, Mother Earth-loving, fire-worshipping woman with the sweet-natured girl he’d fallen in love with. Often, he regretted his decision to introduce Igraine to his friend, Nimueh.
Igraine’s departure had left Uther bereft and mistrustful of women, especially those whose beauty was bewitching. Therefore it was not surprising that Uther was particularly mindful of the women who played a part in his son’s life. Each woman hired in the castle was vetted and only the ones whose loyalty could be vouched for were kept on. And any girl considered more than pretty was turned away at the door. In his mind, beauty could not be trusted. He had learnt this lesson twice.
Now, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the King that his son, Arthur, was coming of age and should be looking for a bride. In all honesty, Uther would prefer it if Arthur never married at all, yet somehow that didn’t seem at all profitable for his lineage. It was with great consternation, therefore, that Uther conceded that his son look for a bride.
To the King’s great relief, Arthur did not turn to the first (and only) beautiful woman he knew. Uther loved his ward as if she was his own daughter, but if anyone was going to relinquish their position as Queen so they could join a cult, it would be Morgana- she was fickle like that. As it was, Morgana preferred making magic with a warlock (whose name he never could remember) and had so far shown no desire to prance around naked in the forest or ensnare the love of his son. If the boy could keep his ward studying ‘boring’ spells from books and keep her away from the temptations of the airy fairy stuff that his former wife revelled in, then Uther would sleep better at night.
He would also sleep better at night knowing that his son had married someone that Uther found utterly trustworthy. He had even compiled a list of women he deemed suitable, but for some reason Arthur did not at all seem interested in the plain, dull, unworldly women he had shown him, which was a shame because Uther had found them all amiable.
A harsher, meaner king would force his son to buckle down and choose one of these women, but Uther wasn’t like that. Maybe it was because he was forced to be both father and mother to his son, but his relationship to Arthur was different to most. Uther was an Understanding Father. Sometimes, he was even Cool. He made sure he was stern, but not strict. Sympathetic, but not a pushover. Funny, but not embarrassingly so. Uther was well aware that Arthur had to have boundaries, but build the walls too high and Arthur would end up running in the same direction as his mother.
Therefore, the King was allowing his son to pick his own bride, but she had to be approved of by Uther first and pass the long list of criteria.
***
After Uther had told Arthur that he would have to marry One Day In The Distant Future, the months passed by without his son so much as trying to find a potential bride. Arthur had just shrugged at the news and carried on his daily business. Uther was almost disappointed by his son’s lack of rebellion. Where was the array of beautiful girls to vex Uther? Where were the harlots that Arthur would bring back for Uther to pretend to be greatly annoyed about (only for him to immensely enjoy kicking out of the castle later)? As far as Uther knew, Arthur was not only not trying to find a wife, he was also not trying to rebel. Did he even know what that rite of passage was?
But then one day it happened. His son fell in love.
Uther knew this immediately, for when he walked into the dining room that day he saw Arthur sitting at the table with a goofy grin on his face and his eyes glazed over. He knew that look too well, for he’d sported it for a full year after meeting Igraine (and a whole month that other time.)
Uther narrowed his eyes at his son and went to sit down at the table. Arthur didn’t even notice his presence.
After a long while of staring at him in suspicion, Uther spoke. “Who is she?” he demanded.
Arthur came out of his daze. “Who is who?” he carefully asked.
“The girl,” Uther drawled.
Arthur cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Uther raised an eyebrow.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Fine, there is a girl.”
“And when exactly were you going to tell me about her?”
“Never?” Arthur offered. “I know what you’re like, Father! With your suspicious ways, you’ll have her running to the other side of the land before I even have a chance to tell her that I’m nothing like you.”
“I will not!” Uther cried, affronted. “And besides, what is wrong with being like me?”
“Other than the fact that you’re disturbingly paranoid, you mean?”
“Yes!”
Arthur sighed and got up.
“This...girl you like. Is she a lady?”
“Aren’t all girls ladies?” Arthur countered, before going to stand by the window.
“Of high breeding, I mean.”
“Of course, Father.”
Uther nodded in approval. “And you’re sure that she isn’t-,”
“-hiding any disturbing tendencies? Fairly certain, yes.”
“Good. And who is she exactly?”
“Her name is Guinevere.”
“Guinevere,” Uther uttered. “That’s a nice, noble sounding name.”
“It is,” Arthur affirmed. “And to save you looking, her name and ancestry is in Book IV of Geoffrey’s lineage records, page 134.”
Uther frowned. Was he really that obvious? Changing tracks, he said, “So where does she live?”
“Here in Camelot.”
“Among the noble people?”
“No, she resides in Seidal.”
Uther frowned. “Isn’t that the town that Gorlois governed?”
“Yes, her father was one of the noblemen who helped govern it, and took full headship when he died.”
Oh, him! What was his name again? Uther was terrible with names.
“So how did you meet her if she lives in Seidal?”
“She attended a birthday celebration of Morgana’s. We met there and have been in contact ever since.”
Uther debated with himself as to whether it was a good thing that this lady was friends with Morgana.
“So you’re serious about this woman then?”
A dreamy look crossed his son’s face. “Yes,” he answered.
Uther leaned forward on the table. “Serious enough about her to marry her?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “I have only just begun courting her, Father.”
“Well then, I must meet her!”
Arthur looked horrified. “You cannot!”
“I insist.”
“But I really like her...”
“All the more reason for me to meet her.”
“You will make a fool of me.”
“I would rather it was I that make a fool of you than she.”
“I am serious Father, if you go ahead with this I will...I will run away.”
“You’ll be back a week later. You’re far too pampered to adjust to the outside world.”
“Fine, I will lock myself in my room.”
“Good. Then I won’t have the servants moaning at me because you made a mess all over the castle.”
“Then maybe I won’t talk to you ever again.”
“I would enjoy the peace and quiet.”
Arthur frowned. “I’ll cut off my right arm.”
“You don’t like blood, so I doubt you’ll even try and so much as graze it.”
Arthur exhaled, angrily. “Fine. I will abdicate the throne and make Morgana Queen.”
This made Uther laugh so hard that his sides began to hurt.
***
A few days later, Guinevere arrived at the castle on special invite by the King.
Arthur had spent the entire day awaiting her arrival with his head in his hands, absolutely mortified. Not least because his father was effectively jeopardising the one chance of love he was ever going to have but because there happened to be a storm raging, and his father had insisted that Guinevere still come even though it was perilous to do so.
Really, he should have been more careful with hiding his feelings. The last time he had brought a girl to meet his father, Uther had terrorised her so much that she’d flung herself out of a first-floor window and landed in a rose bush. Arthur had been thirteen. Thankfully she had survived, but those thorns affected her nature and she had made sure that every girl in the vicinity knew what his father was like. Whatever allure being Prince held, this was swiftly cancelled out by the repellent that was his father. As Morgana liked to frequently state, “Your mother is a pagan. Your father is insanely paranoid. Remind me again: how is it that you managed to turn out so normal?” Arthur really didn’t have an answer.
So when Arthur met Gwen (as he affectionately liked to call her), he counted himself incredibly fortunate that not only was she wonderful in so many ways, but also that she hadn’t heard of the King’s reputation. Even when she later vaguely found out about him from Arthur, she seemed nonplussed, which he counted as a great blessing. Still, he had hoped that Gwen would never have to meet Uther, even if that did seem impractical.
Yet despite Arthur’s hazy warnings, Gwen conceded to meet with him. She had said something about it being inevitable and mentioning that surely he couldn’t be that bad. If only she knew! Arthur just hoped that he could ambush her and jump out the [ground-floor] window before his father got his claws on her.
Occasionally, Arthur would stare out of the window of the throne room, as if the view of the exterior gardens would help him gage her arrival. But the sight of rain pouring down made him despair even further. The conditions outside were treacherous and all he could picture was dreadful things happening to her carriage. Every now and then, he would turn to glare at his father, but Uther seemed oblivious to any of this and just continued smiling expectantly at the entrance.
An hour after Gwen’s expected arrival, she still wasn’t there Uther was still smiling and Arthur was beginning to twitch in anxiety. The roads to the heart of Camelot would be flooded and beyond dangerous; he couldn’t see how even the best rider would safely be able navigate them and all he could imagine was her lying at the bottom of some conveniently placed cliff.
Arthur’s eyes widened. By God, Father has killed Gwen and he hadn’t even met her yet!But maybe that had been his plan all along...
The waiting was making Arthur rather crazy himself. His worried visions had progressed to full-on raging nightmares. Gwen wasn’t just lying at the bottom of a cliff, she’d been attacked by bandits, thrown off the edge of a mountain her carriage had been riding along, carried off by the strong river current, ended up in the sea and somehow having managed to survive all that, had then been washed ashore only to be at the mercy of strange-shaped, man-eating creatures there. And in consolation, Arthur was envisioning ways to seek vengeance on his father.
By the time the knocking sound on the castle doors came (two hours later), Arthur had already figured out how to kill his father and dispose of the body without anyone noticing, which was all pretty disturbing but given the influences of his father, he couldn’t help himself. These menacing thoughts were instantly replaced with relief as soon as a servant came to inform them of Gwen’s arrival. Thank the heavens that Gwen is still alive! He thought. And thank the heavens that I don’t have to get blood on my hands.
A few moments later, Gwen was escorted into the room and Uther clapped in joy, as if she was a jester sent to entertain him. Arthur glared at his father again and then his eyes feasted on her, glad to see her after such a long time. She was completely soaked; her usually curly hair was flat and all over her face, her lilac dress was covered in mud and the top half had a transparent sheen from the rain, making her appear slightly indecent. Seeing this, Arthur threw an outraged look at the servant who had escorted her in and gestured wildly with his hands. Frightened, the girl ran off to fetch Gwen a cloak.
Oblivious to her exposure, Gwen walked up the dais where he and his father were sitting on their throne.
Teeth chattering from the cold and evidently uncomfortable from being soaked, it took a while before she was able to speak.
Curtseying slightly, she said to the King, “I am sorry that I am so late, Your Highness. I’m afraid that the weather made it near impossible to travel here, and our carriage slipped off track and landed in an embankment. I had to break out of it and walk the rest of the way here.” She threw Arthur a tired but reassuring smile and he had to clench the arms of his throne to stop himself from sweeping her up and running away from here.
He looked at his father expectantly. Uther was looking at her with roving eyes, judging her. He could almost tell what he was thinking: Can survive carriage accident: brave and sturdy. Can walk in the rain without melting: not an evil witch.
Arthur cleared his throat. “Father, are you going to let Guinevere just stand there or are you going to let her change into something dry?”
Uther broke out of his assessing trance. “Oh, of course. Mildred,” he said, addressing the servant who had just gone to fetch Gwen a cloak. “Take Guinevere to her chambers and allow her to change into something more comfortable. Lend her something of Morgana’s if need be.”
The servant threw him a fierce look, and stormed off with Gwen in tow.
“Father,” Arthur spoke. “For the hundredth time, her name is Millicent, not Mildred.”
“Oh,” is all Uther said. Really, do they all have to have such similar-sounding names? He thought.
“Because Arthur doesn’t sound anything like Uther,” Arthur said, as if reading his thoughts.
Uther hated it when his son did that.
***
Part Two here