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In the Land of Stories Old
Uther didn’t look up when someone knocked on his door. “Enter.” The door eased open, and boots came in with hesitant steps. He rolled his eyes. “Well, what is it?”
“Dad?”
He dropped his pen. Arthur was standing just inside the doorway, looking as unsure of himself as Uther had ever seen him. He’d obviously gotten the rest of his growth, wherever he’d been, and from the look of his chest and shoulders he’d been splitting a lot of wood.
Arthur wasn’t sure what to expect when his father stood up, but it wasn’t for the man to all but leap around the desk and enfold him in a crushing hug. “Oh gods, you’re back. And you’re all right. Are you all right? What about Merlin, and the rest of the boys, are they…”
“Everyone’s…fine,” Arthur managed. “I couldn’t tell you, Dad, the curse wouldn’t let us.”
“Bors and I thought that must have been what happened,” his father said raggedly. “We knew you’d eventually find a way out of it, though.”
The fact that those words made his son break down was not reassuring. It took a while for the whole story to come out, and Uther just let Arthur talk until it was done before saying anything himself. He wasn’t going to touch the part about Gwenivere; he’d known she was dead, of course, but he also knew she’d died giving birth and her infant daughter had died with her. He didn’t think Arthur needed to hear that, at least not right away, but there was another issue he could definitely address. “So, you boys made your first big mistake, then. Luckily it wasn’t a very bad one.” His son blinked at him, and Uther shook his head. “Arthur…when you fight for a livin’, which is basically what you boys have been doin’, mistakes are goin’ to be made. You’ll pick the wrong side, attack the wrong person, kill someone you wouldn’t have wanted to.” He gave his son a little shake. “Nobody died a wrongful death, son. No one was maimed for life. No kingdoms fell, no villages were burnt. A princess got her pride hurt, that was all.”
“But it was wrong! Merlin only thought she was a witch because she was…because she didn’t look like a princess.”
Now they were getting to it. “How many bad witches have you boys vanquished since you’ve been makin’ heroing your profession, Arthur?”
Arthur had to think about it. “Maybe…not more than a dozen.”
“And what did they look like?”
He actually started to get mad. “They were ugly. And most of them were green. But that’s not an excuse!”
“No, it’s not an excuse,” his father said. “It’s a reason. You all had just gotten done fightin’ a dragon who had kidnapped a princess. You said yourself, you were all on the ground—Merlin was on the ground. Then he lifts his head and sees what lookin’ back at him?”
Arthur’s eyes went as round as saucers. “What he thought was a witch,” he whispered.
“He saw a witch,” Uther confirmed. “A green-as-grass witch just inches away from him. What did he think was goin’ on?”
Arthur looked away. “He said…after, he said his first thought was that she’d set it up—disguise herself as a princess, wear us out fightin’ the dragon to ‘rescue’ her, and then capture us or take us out.”
“She had every right to be angry,” Uther said. “But Merlin had every reason to think you had all just walked into a trap. What would have happened if she’d told you you’d made a mistake?”
And Arthur hung his head. “Merlin would have apologized. Profusely. And probably offered her weregild. He would have explained…”
“She didn’t give him a chance.” Uther’s jaw set. “In fact, she cursed all seven of you in the back, Arthur. I’m sure she was angry and afraid, perhaps even embarrassed. But she could have just turned you all into frogs, or bears, or swans. She could have made you into dwarfs for a year and a day. She didn’t. She hit you with a curse that demanded a sacrifice to be ended, and instead of just hittin’ the person who made the initial mistake with it, or castin’ it on you as a group, she hit all of you individually.” He huffed. “I am not pleased with this woman, not pleased at all. She must be a different kind of fairy than the ones I’m familiar with, because the worst you’d usually get from one of them would be donkey ears or a penalty of service.”
“I’ve never seen one who looked like her,” Arthur agreed. “She was as big as a human woman, blunt features, green skin…in fact, except for us bein’ two foot high she looked a lot like what she turned us into.” He blushed. “Snow said we were cute. Jack and Merlin took that one pretty hard.”
“That’s because Jack and Merlin are pretty,” his father said dryly. “And in Jack’s family, pretty is everything—I’m sure Merlin’s caught some of it from him over the years.” His eyes narrowed when Arthur winced. “There’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me, son.”
Arthur fidgeted. “I may have blown up at Merlin, not long after we were cursed…and told him it was all his fault and he wouldn’t be anything if you hadn’t taken him in, and we only had his word for it that he was even really a prince.”
Uther took a deep breath. This was not what he’d expected. “You actually said that to him.”
“Yeah.”
“You actually said that to the boy who, as far as I’m concerned, is my youngest son. What happened when you apologized?” Arthur wasn’t able to look him in the eye, and Uther stood up abruptly and walked to the window. “I…I’m disappointed, Arthur. I thought we’d taught you to control the family temper better than that.”
Arthur swallowed hard. “You did, Dad. I…I just blew up.”
“What was Merlin’s reaction to you ‘just blowin’ up’?”
“He…” Arthur looked back into the past and wanted to die. “He looked like I’d stabbed him. And then he just turned around and went into his room and closed the door.”
“And then?”
“I stomped outside to chop wood, to work some of it off. When I came back in, Jack and the others wouldn’t talk to me. Merlin…he didn’t start comin’ out around the rest of us again until Hans forced him to a few days after. It wasn’t the same, though—he wasn’t the same. I heard Pino and Noki talkin’, they said he’d tried to write you a letter, but the curse wouldn’t let the words stay on the paper.”
“He would’ve tried to apologize, yes,” Uther said. “He’d have tried to apologize for gettin’ you cursed, and probably for thinkin’ he’d disappointed me and been disowned. Again.” He took another breath. “Merlin was the son of the king and queen of Kaise, Arthur. I promised him when I found him that I wouldn’t even let anyone ask where he’d come from—his father banished him, you see. Formally.” He turned from the window, and held his son’s eyes. “At seven years old. He was told that a child of Fate has no home and no family and that he wasn’t to give anyone his name because it was no longer his to claim, and then he was escorted from the kingdom by armed guards who wouldn’t let anyone speak to him but who made sure everyone saw him. All because he happened to be born the seventh son of a seventh son—I found out later that his second name meant seventh—and also had the bad luck to be the thirteenth child born in his family.”
All of the blood had drained out of Arthur’s face. “He…why didn’t he tell me?”
“He couldn’t. He’s not supposed to tell anyone where he came from, ever—that’s what bein’ formally banished entails. I tricked him into tellin’ me.” Uther’s expression was unreadable. “It was the most heartbreakin’ thing I’d ever seen, that tiny little terrified child tryin’ to stand all proper and stiff while repeatin’ the formal dreck his superstitious bastard of a father had drilled into him. I swore to myself that day that I’d make Kaise pay for their king’s idiocy if I got the chance, and I have—they pay us three times the tariffs everyone else does. And I’ll expect you to keep that up when you take over for me, at least until their current king is rottin’ in his grave. After that, you can handle it however you want. I don’t know anything about the current heir, so I don’t know if he’s inherited stupid from his father or not.”
Arthur swallowed. “If he did…what then?”
Uther shrugged. “If he did and you let him know that you know your adopted brother Merlin began his life as Prince Meryl Shichirou of Kaise, they’d probably order his death for breakin’ the terms of his banishment. An assassin might be sent, or they might just put it in writin’ for formality’s sake and never act on it but tell everyone he’s an oathbreaker. Depends on how much of an arsehole you’re dealin’ with, honestly.” It was costing him not to go to his son, not to comfort him…but comfort wasn’t what was needed in this situation. The Pendragon line was well known for their dragon-like tempers, always had been, and Arthur had to learn that unleashing his that way was never acceptable, not just to his father but to his king. With that in mind, he went back to his desk and sat down again, picking up the pen he’d dropped. “Go to your room, Arthur.”
“What…”
“Go to your room.” It was an order that time. “I’ll see you at breakfast. I know you’ll be wantin’ to get back to the other boys and the princess, but you’re not leavin’ tonight or tomorrow. The Crown Prince of Avalon doesn’t skulk around and hide from his mistakes, and we will be talkin’ about this again.”
Arthur stood up. “This is why I’m not worthy to draw the Sword, isn’t it?”
Uther snorted. “If you truly weren’t worthy she’d have burned your hand, Arthur. You aren’t ready.” His son left the room without another word, and Uther let himself sigh and sink back in his chair once the door was closed, dropping the pen again. He desperately wanted to send a letter to the Black Castle, but he couldn’t. This was Arthur’s mess, and Arthur needed to clean it up himself first.
And when Merlin finally wrote to him, he’d know that Arthur had.
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