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chaletianTitle: Brave New World, 1/3
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaletian
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to Beauty & the Beast pt 2.
Summary: In another lifetime, it may be that in Uther Pendragon’s enchantment by the troll, the Great Dragon saw destiny’s chance to unfold, and denied any knowledge about breaking the spell. AU for Beauty & the Beast. Uther Pendragon wakes up, and everything has changed.
In another lifetime, it may be that in Uther Pendragon’s enchantment by the troll, the Great Dragon saw destiny’s chance to unfold, and denied any knowledge about breaking the spell.
oOo
Uther Pendragon awoke with a pounding head and the sick uneasiness that comes from a night haunted by terrible dreams. One of the heavy, velvet curtains was drawn back so that strong midday sun streamed through, and Uther thought, for a second, that it was late in the year for such good weather. His chamber was empty but for him, and it felt different somehow; unoccupied. He reached up to scrub a hand across his face, and paused, shocked, as his fingers touched on the brittle, crinkled hair of a beard. His hand fell away, and he noticed, for the first time, red marks on his wrist – on both wrists. There was a looking glass on the far wall, and he stumbled over, legs weak and untried, and the face in the glass was thinner, older and definitely more bearded than it should be.
Uther raised a hand to his face and pretended it didn’t tremble. He’d had dreams of fighting to be free, of shouting of betrayal and treachery: were they true? Had he been a prisoner? Captivity could affect a man’s judgement, he knew that. The last thing he remembered clearly… he searched his mind, pushing away half-formed memories and the shadows of dreams. It was Arthur, he remembered. Arthur back from freeing Morgana’s maid from Hengist, Arthur back, not looking remotely sorry for having disobeyed. Then life had continued as usual, and Uther desperately chased the memories until they faded into mist, and he was left, standing unsteadily in his chamber, with a beard and red marks on his wrists and… he looked down. And clothes that looked like they hadn’t seen a laundry woman in a good while.
And his wrath grew as he headed for the door to demand an account, except someone got there before him, and the door swung open. It was Arthur.
“Father,” he said, “how are you feeling?”
The thousand and one things Uther had wanted to say – demand – shout – dried in his mouth, and he stared at his son. This was Arthur, but an Arthur he had never seen before. He seemed taller, broader, older. There was a watchful, judging look in his eye which was new, and Uther, who had always been in command of his child, felt the loss of his composure keenly.
“Father?” prompted Arthur. His hand slid unobtrusively to the hilt of his sword, but the gesture wasn’t missed on Uther, and the feeling that some foul fate had overcome him welled inside him again.
“I demand to be told what is happening!” he roared, hampered only by the hoarseness of his voice.
“You’ve been…unwell,” said Arthur.
“Don’t lie to me, boy!” shouted Uther, then looked in astonishment as a guard – a young man he didn’t recognise – appeared in the doorway.
“Sire?” he said, and Uther began to speak as Arthur said, “It’s fine; return to your post.” The guard obeyed, and Arthur turned back to his father. “You’re right, that was a lie. You’ve been under a curse, Father. We’d almost given up hope of breaking it.”
“A curse…” murmured Uther, backing up till he could sit heavily in a large, carved chair at the foot of his bed.
“Gaius couldn’t find a way to break it,” continued Arthur. “He thought perhaps if the creature enslaving you could be killed… but it fled the city and we lost all trace, until yesterday.”
Uther looked up sharply. “It’s dead?”
Arthur nodded, his expression one of grim satisfaction. “Oh, it’s dead all right. We saw to that.”
“What was it? What could have done this?”
“It was a troll,” said Arthur, and his voice became more hesitant. “Father, do you remember the Lady Catrina?”
Uther nodded absently. “Yes, of course. Her father was a great man; I admired him very much. The family was killed, except the Lady Catrina, who…” He broke off and frowned. “I thought she escaped, but I remember no news. I…” He frowned more, and looked away. “I’m not sure…”
oOo
She’s lithe and graceful, like a willow tree or… something, and Uther brushes away the comparison for he has never been one for poetry. But she’s beautiful and gallant and brave, and her hair shines like ripe chestnuts in the cold sun, and Uther knows that he would give anything for her happiness and security. For what is a man if he cannot provide these things for the woman he loves?
“You want me to help you,” she says, “and I want to be a part of Camelot.”
He reaches out a hand, because she’s so noble and so good, and he knows she will love Camelot as he does.
oOo
“Well, the troll pretended to be her,” said Arthur bluntly, “and enchanted you into falling in love with her, marrying her, and making her your heir.”
“I…”
“And when part of her magic failed, and she was revealed to the rest of the court – to the rest of Camelot - as a troll, you were still unable to see the truth. On account of the enchantment.”
“I…”
“She sat in a heap of dung at high table.”
Uther held up a hand. “Enough, Arthur. What did you do?”
oOo
“It’s all very well knowing she’s got him under some spell,” Arthur says irritably, “but that doesn’t do us much good if we don’t know how to break it!”
“I apologise, sire,” begins Gaius, but Arthur waves a hand.
“Oh, it’s not your fault, Gaius. You revealed her true nature, at least. I suppose we’ll just have to keep looking for someth…”
It’s Sir Leon who interrupts them, jogging along the stone corridors of the castle. “Sire, forgive me,” he says, “but I thought you should know.”
This can’t be anything good. “Know what? What’s she got him doing now?”
“The King says Bayard of Mercia is coming to celebrate the wedding.”
They stare at him. “Well,” says Merlin eventually, “that’s going to be an interesting occasion.”
“No,” says Arthur. “No, absolutely not. The King of Camelot cannot be seen married to a troll.” His face is disgusted. “I mean, dear Lord, can you imagine what they’ll say? What they’ll think? How long before someone decides to take advantage of our… weakness? We must put him off. Send a message.”
“It would be a terrible insult,” says Gaius, and Leon nods.
“He’s right. Other than grave illness, there could not be any…”
“So say there’s an illness!” shouts Arthur, and there’s a movement at the end of the corridor that reminds them this sort of conversation is not one to be held where anyone might hear.
“Outside,” says Gaius.
They make a move, and Arthur reaches out and catches Gaius’ arm. “We have to do something,” he says, and Gaius nods.
“Of course, sire.”
oOo
“We tried to kill the troll, but it escaped and fled Camelot,” said Arthur. “We hoped that might be an end to it, but you were still under her curse. We had to keep you here whilst we hunted for it.”
“How long?” asked Uther, feeling the coarseness of his beard. “It must have been weeks.”
Arthur looked for a moment like he wouldn’t meet Uther’s gaze, but he wasn’t a coward, and stared his father straight in the eye. “It has been longer than that,” he said. “Father, it’s been four years.”
Part Two
Author:
chaletianFandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to Beauty & the Beast pt 2.
Summary: In another lifetime, it may be that in Uther Pendragon’s enchantment by the troll, the Great Dragon saw destiny’s chance to unfold, and denied any knowledge about breaking the spell. AU for Beauty & the Beast. Uther Pendragon wakes up, and everything has changed.
In another lifetime, it may be that in Uther Pendragon’s enchantment by the troll, the Great Dragon saw destiny’s chance to unfold, and denied any knowledge about breaking the spell.
Uther Pendragon awoke with a pounding head and the sick uneasiness that comes from a night haunted by terrible dreams. One of the heavy, velvet curtains was drawn back so that strong midday sun streamed through, and Uther thought, for a second, that it was late in the year for such good weather. His chamber was empty but for him, and it felt different somehow; unoccupied. He reached up to scrub a hand across his face, and paused, shocked, as his fingers touched on the brittle, crinkled hair of a beard. His hand fell away, and he noticed, for the first time, red marks on his wrist – on both wrists. There was a looking glass on the far wall, and he stumbled over, legs weak and untried, and the face in the glass was thinner, older and definitely more bearded than it should be.
Uther raised a hand to his face and pretended it didn’t tremble. He’d had dreams of fighting to be free, of shouting of betrayal and treachery: were they true? Had he been a prisoner? Captivity could affect a man’s judgement, he knew that. The last thing he remembered clearly… he searched his mind, pushing away half-formed memories and the shadows of dreams. It was Arthur, he remembered. Arthur back from freeing Morgana’s maid from Hengist, Arthur back, not looking remotely sorry for having disobeyed. Then life had continued as usual, and Uther desperately chased the memories until they faded into mist, and he was left, standing unsteadily in his chamber, with a beard and red marks on his wrists and… he looked down. And clothes that looked like they hadn’t seen a laundry woman in a good while.
And his wrath grew as he headed for the door to demand an account, except someone got there before him, and the door swung open. It was Arthur.
“Father,” he said, “how are you feeling?”
The thousand and one things Uther had wanted to say – demand – shout – dried in his mouth, and he stared at his son. This was Arthur, but an Arthur he had never seen before. He seemed taller, broader, older. There was a watchful, judging look in his eye which was new, and Uther, who had always been in command of his child, felt the loss of his composure keenly.
“Father?” prompted Arthur. His hand slid unobtrusively to the hilt of his sword, but the gesture wasn’t missed on Uther, and the feeling that some foul fate had overcome him welled inside him again.
“I demand to be told what is happening!” he roared, hampered only by the hoarseness of his voice.
“You’ve been…unwell,” said Arthur.
“Don’t lie to me, boy!” shouted Uther, then looked in astonishment as a guard – a young man he didn’t recognise – appeared in the doorway.
“Sire?” he said, and Uther began to speak as Arthur said, “It’s fine; return to your post.” The guard obeyed, and Arthur turned back to his father. “You’re right, that was a lie. You’ve been under a curse, Father. We’d almost given up hope of breaking it.”
“A curse…” murmured Uther, backing up till he could sit heavily in a large, carved chair at the foot of his bed.
“Gaius couldn’t find a way to break it,” continued Arthur. “He thought perhaps if the creature enslaving you could be killed… but it fled the city and we lost all trace, until yesterday.”
Uther looked up sharply. “It’s dead?”
Arthur nodded, his expression one of grim satisfaction. “Oh, it’s dead all right. We saw to that.”
“What was it? What could have done this?”
“It was a troll,” said Arthur, and his voice became more hesitant. “Father, do you remember the Lady Catrina?”
Uther nodded absently. “Yes, of course. Her father was a great man; I admired him very much. The family was killed, except the Lady Catrina, who…” He broke off and frowned. “I thought she escaped, but I remember no news. I…” He frowned more, and looked away. “I’m not sure…”
She’s lithe and graceful, like a willow tree or… something, and Uther brushes away the comparison for he has never been one for poetry. But she’s beautiful and gallant and brave, and her hair shines like ripe chestnuts in the cold sun, and Uther knows that he would give anything for her happiness and security. For what is a man if he cannot provide these things for the woman he loves?
“You want me to help you,” she says, “and I want to be a part of Camelot.”
He reaches out a hand, because she’s so noble and so good, and he knows she will love Camelot as he does.
“Well, the troll pretended to be her,” said Arthur bluntly, “and enchanted you into falling in love with her, marrying her, and making her your heir.”
“I…”
“And when part of her magic failed, and she was revealed to the rest of the court – to the rest of Camelot - as a troll, you were still unable to see the truth. On account of the enchantment.”
“I…”
“She sat in a heap of dung at high table.”
Uther held up a hand. “Enough, Arthur. What did you do?”
“It’s all very well knowing she’s got him under some spell,” Arthur says irritably, “but that doesn’t do us much good if we don’t know how to break it!”
“I apologise, sire,” begins Gaius, but Arthur waves a hand.
“Oh, it’s not your fault, Gaius. You revealed her true nature, at least. I suppose we’ll just have to keep looking for someth…”
It’s Sir Leon who interrupts them, jogging along the stone corridors of the castle. “Sire, forgive me,” he says, “but I thought you should know.”
This can’t be anything good. “Know what? What’s she got him doing now?”
“The King says Bayard of Mercia is coming to celebrate the wedding.”
They stare at him. “Well,” says Merlin eventually, “that’s going to be an interesting occasion.”
“No,” says Arthur. “No, absolutely not. The King of Camelot cannot be seen married to a troll.” His face is disgusted. “I mean, dear Lord, can you imagine what they’ll say? What they’ll think? How long before someone decides to take advantage of our… weakness? We must put him off. Send a message.”
“It would be a terrible insult,” says Gaius, and Leon nods.
“He’s right. Other than grave illness, there could not be any…”
“So say there’s an illness!” shouts Arthur, and there’s a movement at the end of the corridor that reminds them this sort of conversation is not one to be held where anyone might hear.
“Outside,” says Gaius.
They make a move, and Arthur reaches out and catches Gaius’ arm. “We have to do something,” he says, and Gaius nods.
“Of course, sire.”
“We tried to kill the troll, but it escaped and fled Camelot,” said Arthur. “We hoped that might be an end to it, but you were still under her curse. We had to keep you here whilst we hunted for it.”
“How long?” asked Uther, feeling the coarseness of his beard. “It must have been weeks.”
Arthur looked for a moment like he wouldn’t meet Uther’s gaze, but he wasn’t a coward, and stared his father straight in the eye. “It has been longer than that,” he said. “Father, it’s been four years.”
Part Two
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-11-02 12:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-02 01:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-02 01:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-02 03:24 pm (UTC)Well done. Very intriguing.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-02 03:50 pm (UTC)