Chapter Text
Twenty years ago
Uther
Dawn shouldn't have come that morning. All light should have gone out of the rest of the world the way it had gone out of Uther's.
"Uther?" said a quiet voice behind him.
The last time he'd heard Nimueh's voice they'd both been shouting, the still of night broken by a baby's wails and Uther's recriminations and Nimueh's entreaties of I didn't know! Had it only been a few hours ago? Time had lost all sense of itself. "I told you to get out," Uther said now, without looking up.
"I know." She came closer; he could feel her presence like heat against a burn. Her voice was quiet now, subdued. "You know, don't you, that I would never have willingly hurt Ygraine?"
Did he know that? A day ago he would have. Now he watched dawn light grow over the coverlet where his wife, his queen, his world lay. Forgive me, he'd whispered to her through the long hours, trapped in the flickering light of candles as they wallowed lower in their wax. Please forgive me.
She would have, too. There was never a heart as warm and loving as Ygraine's. And it had been coupled with a quick wit and lovely face and a smile that had held everything he ever wanted.
Not quite everything. He'd reached too far, and destroyed the most precious thing in his life.
"I would undo this if I could," said Nimueh, her words reaching through the silence.
The hours of vigil had brought clarity to Uther, and he believed her -- almost. Nimueh had been his Court Sorceress for many years, and he wasn't blind. She was powerful enough to still appear young after all this time, strong enough as a High Priestess to play with the threads of life and death. A day ago he would have said that her magic had helped make Camelot strong.
Now he could see that her strength was built on rot. Yes, he'd reached too far, but only with Nimueh's help. No mortal was meant to meddle with fate, and yet she dabbled in matters far beyond her understanding, seduced by the promise of power. And Uther... he had believed her assurances, disregarded her cautions. He had trusted her with the most important person in his life, who now lay still, flesh growing cold over the night.
Nothing could undo the terrible fate of his queen. But he had promised Ygraine's memory, over and over during the long lonely hours since her death, that he would spend the rest of his life atoning for his mistakes.
And he would start now. Soft footsteps told him that Nimueh had turned away; she was a proud woman, and had already apologized more than Uther would have predicted. "Nimueh," he said, standing. The footsteps stopped. Uther took a moment more to drink in Ygraine's pale face, lovely and still in the dawn light. There was a dagger at his belt, one enchanted by Nimueh herself. A precious gift, and one he would not waste. He drew a long breath and forced himself to speak softly. "I know."
When he turned it was to see hope on Nimueh's face. "Thank you, Uther." Her eyes were red and swollen. Despite the evil in her, he knew she'd loved Ygraine dearly.
Or had she? Twisted with power no mortal should have, was she capable of truly loving?
"Now that Ygraine is... gone," he said, and his voice trembled despite himself, "there is the child to consider."
In truth, he'd barely given the babe a thought since he'd seen the light slip out of Ygraine's eyes, except to rue bitterly his own desires for an heir. But just as Nimueh had known how to lead him down the dark path of his own ambitions, so too he knew how to play upon her desires. The babe was important to her for some reason she had never divulged; there had always been more in her eyes than the desire to help her king, an eagerness that he saw now was avariciousness.
Nimueh took a step toward him, a little of that eagerness showing even through her exhaustion. "I'll do everything in my power for your son, Uther. I promise you."
He held out a hand, a peace offering, and Nimueh clasped it at once. "I'll need to guard him," he said. "I won't make the same mistake again."
"He will grow to be a great king," said Nimueh, daring a small smile. "We'll both be there to guide him."
Was that what she'd wanted all along? Now that Ygraine was gone, did she see herself stepping into the place of a mother, instructing the boy in magical arts perhaps, bending his mind to her will? Nimueh had lived long already; she might well make plans that took lifetimes to come to fruition.
"Do you know where he is?" asked Uther, releasing her hand.
"Of course." Nimueh turned toward the door, and Uther used the scrape of footsteps to cover the sound of the dagger sliding free of its well-oiled sheath. A normal dagger wouldn't have had a chance against a High Priestess, but she'd assured him that this one could protect him from any magical creature.
He'd killed countless men in the campaigns that had made him master of Camelot. He'd killed a few women as well -- battle-witches and spies and traitors, whose choices condemned them regardless of their sex.
But in all his life, this was the first time he'd stabbed an unsuspecting woman in the back. The dagger drove home cleanly, angled up under her ribs, and Uther grasped Nimueh's shoulder as a pained gasp escaped her lips. Not just a woman, he reminded himself. A sorceress, full of evil. The witch who used me for her own ends and killed Ygraine.
Hot blood ran down his hand as Uther eased Nimueh's collapsing body slowly to the floor. She choked, trying to speak, and the barest flicker of gold came into her eyes, but Uther twisted the dagger and the flicker went out. "I can never atone for what I allowed you to do to Ygraine," he told her. Blood pooled beneath her, and smoke rose from the wound. The dagger grew so hot in his hand that he was forced to release it. "But I'll spend the rest of my life trying. And my son will never be corrupted by magic."
She'd gone still by the time he finished speaking. Uther stood and watched for a while, as blood soaked into the floorboards and the dagger's handle blackened as though eaten by acid. Only when the smoke stopped did he step around Nimueh's corpse and go to the door.
He didn't look back at Ygraine. There was much to do.