The Ward 6/20
Title: The Ward 6/20
Author:tudor_rose445
Rating: Pg-13
Characters/Pairings:Arthur, Guinevere, Morgana, Uther, Igraine, Merlin, Gaius, Arthur/Guinevere, Igraine/Uther, Morgana/Merlin?.
Spoilers: Seasons 1-3
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BBC owns "Merlin".
Summary: AU. The life of Guinevere, daughter to Sir Thomas of Camelot, has seemingly changed over night. After the death of her father and brother she is sent to the court of King Uther to become his ward. There she grows amongst the two royal children, Prince Arthur and Princess Morgana. Her time with the Pendragons will have a large influence on her life, and help to shape her into the queen of legend.
Chapter 5:
The Purge goes on, bringing with it the appearance of a Cornwall family member.
Author’s notes: Beta-ed by the awesome Guardian Izz . And apparently I'm a week behind on updates here. I always forget to update both this and fanfiction.net. Chapter 6 should be posted within the day so I will be back on track.
'A life for a life.'
Hadn't that been what Nimueh had told him?
Uther often thought over the sorceress' words during his month of self-confinement. Shut away from the world with his council at the reigns of the kingdom, he was finally alone to lament over his much beloved wife.
Igraine.
Even the thought of her name caused his chest to constrict.
He'd rather be run through with a sword, smashed to death with a mace … anything but living without her.
He, unlike many other nobles, had been able to choose his wife. The lovely Princess of Cornwall, how lovely she had been! He had been smitten with her from their first meeting, and she with him. He, the dashing knight, recently crowned King of Camelot after conquering the land. She, the beautiful Princess Igraine with hair brighter than the shining sun, the daughter of one of Albion's most respected leaders.
They had been the ideal couple, the perfect match.
And now she was dead.
A life for a life.
In his anger Uther hurled his neglected wine goblet across the room.
The burgundy liquid slowly slid down the cracks of the stonewall as he fixed his gaze upon it. Watching the flow took up his concentration, allowing him to forget reality for a brief second. Knowing that could no longer hold his attention he quickly swiped his arm across the table, knocking over his untouched supper.
Why did those damn servants keep serving him meals in his quarters like he was some type of prisoner? He had chosen to isolate himself; his choice didn't include any other human interaction.
He couldn't even stomach the thought of eating, of simply living knowing that she wasn't.
A life for a life.
That witch must have known that Igraine's life would be sacrificed....she had to have! Why hadn't she told them?
He didn't even think of the possibility of not saving Arthur then. But if given the choice, who would he have chosen? He knew, without a doubt, that Igraine would have given her life for her son's. But what would he have done?
He upturned his table, yelling as he did so. Ignoring the hurried footsteps of servants hovering outside his door he continued to destroy furniture.
The chair that he had been sitting in when she had told him she was expecting Arthur. Smash!
The stool she liked to rest upon when embroidering before the fire at night. Smash!
The very bed where he first took her, where the ultimate act of love between them had taken place. He raised his arms in an attempt to push out the mattress but found his limbs growing weak. He collapsed beside it, sobbing openly as he rested his head upon the blankets.
This hadn't been his fault! Why did he have to suffer so?
A life for a life.
Nimueh.
It was all her fault that Igraine had died.
With shocking clarity the distressed king came to a realization of who the actual culprit was: magic.
Magic was to blame.
'A life for a life' she had told him.
Well, he'd take as many magical lives for Igraine as he could.
0o0o0o
Word of the king's return to the court sent the nobles a buzz. Even more surprising was his sudden declaration: magic was to be banned from Camelot.
“Why is that?” Gwen had asked Batilda after returning from the announcement. Already from the windows of her chambers she could see the knights riding out over the drawbridge. Uther had wasted no time in sending his men to arrest anyone with magic. A distant scream from the courtyard below as a servant was dragged away sent a shiver down her spine.
Quickly she turned away from the scene below her window into Batilda's outstretched arms.
The nurse held her charge to her bosom as she stroked the girl's curls.
“The king blames magic for killing the queen, dear,” she began, even as Gwen looked up in confusion. “The Lady of The Lake … do you remember her?”
Gwen thought she would never forget her. The majestic looking Nimueh wasn't someone one forgot.
“She used magic to save Arthur. He...he thinks that she took revenge upon the queen in spite.”
Gwen shook her head, tears piercing her eyes.
“The...the queen! She would have...she should have....”
It was like reliving her father and Elyan's deaths all over again.
She allowed herself to cry then in mourning for the woman who had been the very epitome of kindness, the perfect queen.
The nurse held her girl closer as they tried to ignore the cries of anguish below as yet another victim was carried away to meet their fate.
0o0o0o
The weeks following the outlaw of magic seemed to be made of nightmares. Daily sorcerers were being executed in the courtyard, children drowned, witches burned. On occasion Uther had Arthur stand beside him to decree the final verdict upon the poor man or woman at the gallows below. Gwen and Morgana would then watch as he returned from the spectacle, seemingly unfeeling. Perhaps a stranger viewing him wouldn't see a difference in him, but the two people now closest to him could tell how he really felt.
Watching a cart of new prisoners enter the courtyard one morning from her chamber window, Gwen realized how one death had affected the entire kingdom so greatly. Not only were people dying because of Igraine's untimely death, the royal family itself was nothing like before.
Uther's genial behavior had been buried with his wife in the vaults below the citadel it seemed. His very heart, it was whispered, had frozen over. Gwen had cautiously asked Gaius if such a thing was possible the last time she had helped him with his herbs. The physician had assured her that a heart couldn't simply freeze over, forcing a laugh.
Gaius, the grandfather she never had, even seemed less capable to say or do something to make a smile appear on her face. Not only his behavior had changed but his rooms too. Gwen had inquired about his books with the funny language inside of it that she liked to skim through from time to time, but he had acted as if she had been making up their very existence. This had bothered her to no end until she had convinced herself that she had made up the strange tomes, perhaps seen in a dream.
But it was really the prince and princess that she worried most for. She herself felt alone without Igraine, but she couldn't imagine how Morgana and Arthur felt without their mother. She counted herself almost lucky that she had never met her own mother, as she had no memories of the woman to miss. Batilda was the closest thing she had to a mother figure, and Igraine had become a type of foster-parent herself.
Morgana, if anything, seemed to act out more often. She would stubbornly refuse to do whatever her nurse told her even when faced with punishment from her father. The day that he had taken a switch to her after a particularly bad argument found the princess strutting around with her head held high despite the painful and humiliating flogging.
Arthur was more prone to snapping at others, especially the servants. She supposed it was easier for him to order them about then perhaps taking out his anger on herself and Morgana. He seemed rougher, more intent on growing up over night.
She almost felt as if in any moment she would wake up in her old castle to have breakfast with her father and Elyan, as if this was all a bad dream.
Her thoughts were disturbed by the clattering of a group of horsemen below in the courtyard.
A group of knights dismounted, wearing the colors of another kingdom. It took her a moment to draw on her lessons of the noble houses of Albion before she recognized the crest of Cornwall. She had seen the symbols scattered around the queen's chamber, as she had been Princess of Cornwall before marrying Uther. Hurriedly she hopped off of her window seat before taking off out of her room. She ignored Batilda's questions as she skidded out into the hallway, nearly colliding with Morgana in the process.
“Someone from Cornwall just arrived,” she said in a rush, watching as her friend's face lit up.
For the first time in almost two months, Gwen saw her friend smile.
“It must be Uncle Tristan then!” the girl exclaimed before taking up her friend's hand. The two set off at a run, dodging confused looking servants on their way down to the entrance hall.
“Uncle Tristan is Mother's younger brother,” she said, a bit of her exuberant behavior from before Igraine's death peeking out. “He's so funny....you have to meet him!”
Both girls stopped short, however, when they heard shouting from the entrance hall. The two peeped over the stair railing to see Uther standing a few paces from a fuming Tristan. From their vantage point they could see an uncertain Arthur hanging back a few feet from his father.
With a clatter Tristan's gauntlet was thrown to the ground.
The tension in the room was clear even to the two wide-eyed children.
The blond haired man standing before Uther locked eyes with the king, speaking in a grave tone.
“You killed my sister. Igraine! Do you realize that Uther? Your Igraine! My sister!”
The man's voice sounded so pained Gwen, to her surprise, found tears welling in her eyes.
“She was the closest friend I had in this world, and yet you only sent news to Cornwall a week ago! A week! She's been dead for more than a month!”
His harsh green eyes flicked down to his gauntlet.
“Pick it up, monster. Pick it up so that I can avenge an innocent life.”
The guards standing around Uther began to close in on Tristan until the king raised one gloved hand.
“Your terms?” the king asked, the very picture of coldness. It looked almost as if he was scolding a naughty child.
“A sword fight, to the death,” declared the dashing looking knight standing before him.
There was a beat or two of silence in the hall before Uther stooped to pick up the gauntlet.
“I'm sorry it's come to this,” the king commented, although those around him saw no regret in his features.
0o0o0
Nearly an hour later almost the entire court had crammed into the arena. After much begging to Batilda, Gwen was allowed to attend with Morgana and her reluctant nurse. The two were kept toward the back of the royal box although they did have a good of view of the arena. Arthur took his father's chair in the box, his expression showing nothing of his current feelings. She wondered what he must be thinking, having his uncle and father fighting each other to the death.
Morgana, she knew, was terribly anxious about it. But she knew that because Morgana would confide just about anything to her. Arthur, however, wasn't about to go sharing his inner thoughts with an eight year old girl.
Silence fell over the arena as the two men, outfitted in chain mail and armor, entered the ring.
Gaius, acting as the king's eldest friend and closest adviser, stood from his place at the end of the royal box.
“Tristan de Bois has challenged Uther Pendragon, who has accepted this challenge, to a fight to the death,” he declared, finding himself wavering over the last word.
“You may begin - now!”
The crowd seemed to hold its breath as the two men slowly began to circle each other, swords poised. It was impossible for Gwen to see both men's expressions because of their helmets and she scooted forward a bit more in her chair as if that would somehow improve her view of their faces.
Finally Tristan made the first blow toward Uther, which the king parried without difficulty. The clash of swords seemed almost earth-shattering in the silent arena. The song of the metal clashing was almost like a bird's song. A song of death.
A strong swipe from Tristan barely missed Uther's chest. Gwen felt rather than heard Morgana's reaction next to her. Gwen sneaked a peek over at Arthur, seeing that he was rather pale. It dawned on her then that if Uther was to die today, Arthur would become the king. The responsibility of that position at such an early age would be unbearable. Even though there would be a council ruling alongside hum as regency until he was of age, Arthur would still retain the title and must conduct himself befitting his position.
The crowd let out a collective groan as Uther was nearly tripped up by his challenger. The king quickly recovered before sending a wave of swipes at his opponent. The clanging of the metal continued to ring for what seemed to be ages.
The defeat happened in an instant.
One moment Uther was blocking a blow with his shield, and the next he had swung out his sword toward Tristan's rib. With a sickening noise the sword imbedded itself into the Prince of Cornwall. Uther roared before withdrawing the sword with a quick yank.
The crowd focused in on the stumbling prince, now clutching his bleeding rib. A slight gasping was heard from the middle of the arena as the man struggled with his last few breaths. Uther's sword dropped to the dust with a 'clang' as he watched his wife's brother fall at his hands.
Gwen averted her eyes, feeling bile rise up in the back of her throat.
Was this the same man who had welcomed her into his lands, his home? That had danced with her nearly a month ago without a care in the world?
By the time she looked back Uther had left the arena, and a group of guards began to carry away Tristan's body.
He was just another name to add to Uther's victims now.