InsaneJournal

Who: Ygraine, Uther and Arthur (And an appearance from Guinevere and Abigail)
What: Family Reunion
Where: Uther/Ygraine's flat
When: Just after she arrived
Status/Rating: Log, (In?)Complete/Low


Uther almost ran down the street towards the library, barely daring to believe this was real, that she was here. Last time he’d heard her, someone had enchanted him and it had hurt, seeing her drawn, ill face. But almost as bad had been the days afterward, when a part of him wished they’d just left him alone, left him so he could carry on seeing her, even in such a wrong, twisted capacity. Because even that was preferable to the harsh loneliness of reality.

But it was different this time. Ygraine’s voice had been teasing, happy. And Uther actually allowed himself to hope as he barrelled around the corner with the sudden agility of a much younger man, skidding to a halt a few yards down the street as he saw her. She was just as remembered, as if someone had ripped his memories from his head and presented them back to him. Golden hair, a white nightgown, her fair brow furrowed in confusion. For one mad moment she reminded him of Arthur.

Uther realised how different and strange he must look to her. He wasn’t the young man she was used to. His hair had greyed and crept up his head, his face was more scarred and lines had etched themselves deeply across his features. Misery and age had weakened him, worn him down. He was dressed in the battered jeans and a zip-up fleece jumper he always wore to the stables, and there was mud on his boots and knees and a whiff of horses about him. For a second Uther felt wildly self-conscious, but then Ygraine was looking at him and his legs carried him forward to meet her as if she were a magnet.

She was rather tired but wouldn’t let herself focus on that. Uther was here, and her little boy too. Only he wasn’t so little and that was certainly something she would have to come to terms with. And she was sure she would eventually, probably the moment she saw him. And how she wanted to see him. But for now she was wanting to see her husband, who had lived through her death and had aged. She knew he was older, he told her and she could hear it in his voice.

It didn’t take long for her to hear footsteps and she turned to look at him. He certainly had aged, but he still looked the same. He was still her Uther. The moment he started to walk toward her she stood, the strange clothing taking her by surprise but she had seen stranger things since she arrived here. And with the age and the strange clothing, the scar she could see on his face, he had never looked more handsome.

“Uther,” she said softly before wrapping her arms around him and without thinking, pressed her lips to his.

She was there in less than a moment, pressed close against him and so familiar and perfect it made his chest ache. Uther had been keeping himself back until that moment, not letting himself really believe that this was happening, because he’d learnt in his life that things like this weren’t to be trusted. But it was impossible to deny it now, with his wife right there and exactly as she’d always been, exactly as she’d been the last time he’d seen her. Uther had loved her so much - more than anything - she’d been his whole world and when shed been taken it had ruined him. And now she was back, and he felt something snap deep in his chest.

Pulling away, Uther barely managed to bite back a broken noise before he pressed his face hard into the graceful curve of her shoulder, breathing her in, his arms tight around her so she couldn’t slip away again. “I’m sorry,” he told her, and strangely his muffled voice sounded young enough to match hers. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

The moment he pressed his face against her like a child seeking comfort, her hands help him tighter. She had to hush him, make him realise that it was not his fault. She wanted Camelot to have an heir and it killed her knowing that she couldn’t provide one for him. To give her life for Camelot seemed such a small price to pay. And she was sure she would feel that even more whenever she met Arthur.

“You have no need to be. I done what I wanted to, I gave you a son. You did not send me to battle, you did not run a sword through me. I willingly went into this knowing their were consequences, even if I wasn’t fully aware I would be the one to face them.”

She pressed her lips against his temple and ran her hand over his hair. She wanted him smiling again, laughing. She hated it when he was upset after all, which wife wouldn’t?

Uther wasn’t a man to show weakness or emotion. People didn’t want a King who could not control himself, and he had been raised to stay strong and detached, to keep things bottled away where they would not cause embarrassment or make him appear vulnerable. And he had only clung to that tighter after his wife’s death. But Ygraine had always been different, had been the one allowed to see through him, even more so than his own son. Uther shivered and shook his head, keeping his face hidden away for a moment later.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known,” he muttered, and it was a terrible thing to say, because he had gained Arthur from all this pain. But it was hard sometimes, to see it in that light. Uther pulled his head from the comforting hollow between her neck and shoulder and instead touched his forehead against hers, drinking her in. She was beautiful, just as she’d been the first time he’d seen her, and when he lifted a hand to cradle her jaw he was saddened by his own aged fingers against her skin. But at the same time he felt like his heart might explode from his chest.

“I missed you,” he told her, yet again. “More than... I couldn’t carry on without you.”

“I would have. Uther my life would have not been complete had I not given you an heir. I am so sorry I left you to bring him up alone but Camelot would not have been strong without a boy.”

She smiled, though a little watery, when his forehead came to hers. Reaching up, she covered his hand on her face before awkwardly entwining their fingers, their fingers fitting so well. She had always loved that, since the first time he took her hand and kissed it the day they met. She had been hooked from that moment, and loved him ever since.

“I’m here now. We can discuss your past another time but should we not rejoice being together once more?”

Uther nodded and, reluctantly, pulled away. He had so many other things he wanted to tell her about, to apologise for and explain. So many moments n the last two decades when he had wished she had been there, that he should have been able to share with her. Arthur and Morgana’s bickering, Arthur winning his first tournament, his first riding and sword lessons. Things they should have seen together, but he had been left watching on his own, finding himself missing her so much that he had had to turn away.

Without a word, Uther unzipped the fleecy jacket he wore over his shirt and and draped it around the blonde woman’s slender shoulders. She was only in her nightgown, after all. She’d catch her death in this ever-changing spring weather.

“You’ll have to forgive the smell,” he told her, with a faint shadow of his old smile. “I work in the stables, tending to the horses.” He knew how odd that must sound to her - he was King. He didn’t work. But some things had to be done, and he needed to eat. “But they will not need me back there today. Shall we head back to my rooms? Or would you prefer to get something to eat first?”

Ygraine smiled as he wrapped whatever it was he had on around her. She would have to get use to this, she knew that. She had a feeling that she would not get to leave soon. She didn’t want to leave soon, it would mean leaving Uther again. She would rather live in an unfamiliar place than die and never see him again.

“You forget I’ve spent time with you straight after you have returned from battle. It does not change anything. And I have to say I am proud of you, doing something like that.”

She smiled more when he said he wasn’t needed. Good, she would have the chance to spend more time with him than she thought she would have been able to had he had to work more. Pressing her lips to the corner of his own, she finally stepped back.

“Shall we return to your rooms first?”

Uther had worked at the stables for several months now, and had managed to clamber up the odd little ranks of the place until he had some kind of responsibility and could dole out jobs to the younger and newer workers. He was a man who liked to be in charge, and was willing to work to get there. He had not inherited Camelot, after all - he had won it. That was part of the reason he had been so desperate for a son. There were many people lurking in the shadows, unhappy to see a Pendragon on the throne and ready to pounce whenever they saw a moment of weakness. It had been vital that he had an heir, and Ygraine had known that.

Uther took his wives arm, a practiced gesture that came back to him as easy as breathing, reminding him of walks through her gardens and through airy corridors of the castle. Of course, they weren’t in Camelot castle now - they were on a dirty street with those metal car monstrosities rumbling in the distance, but he was happy. Happier and lighter than he had been in a long time.

They walked together, arm in arm, probably looking a little ridiculous to most passers-by with Ygraine in her nightgown and oversized jumper. They wandered towards Uthers building, him pointing out the various objects and quirks of this strange time to her, making idle talk. It wasn’t long before they were stepping into the ex-monarch’s front door.

The flat was tidy enough - Uther supposed that was more down to Guinevere’s input than his own. There was this morning cup of tea sat on the coffee table beside a worn book, and some of Abigail’s toys were scattered around from when she’d last been round. Uther steered his wife to the sofa and sat her down before moving in to the kitchen to put the kettle on. As he waited, he plucked a photograph from where it was tucked neatly away beside the tea bags and carried it back to her. Uther sank into the space beside Ygraine, passing the picture over.

“Your son,” he told her with a faint smile, pointing to each face in turn. “And his.. uh.. wife, Guinevere. And that’s Abigail.”

Everything was so strange but she listened to Uther as he explained it all to her. All the modern inventions which were slightly odd and rather scary if she was honest; but she knew she was safe. Uther had always been exceptionally protective of her since the day they met and as annoying as it could be, she appreciated it. It didn’t take them long to get to his rooms and she sat when he moved her to, looking around as he went into a separate part of the room. There were so many new things and she hoped that soon she would come to understand them.

Soon he was back beside her, passing her some strange thing like a portrait only a lot clearer. She stared at the smiling family and the moment that he said it was Arthur, her eyes began to water. Taking the portrait, she ignored the other two for a moment as she ran her fingers over the face of her son.

“Oh look at him. He is so big. And my, how handsome he’s become.”

Uther smiled, peering over her shoulder into the familiar face of their son. He had seen Arthur grow from a squirming, chubby baby into a stubborn child with a shock of fair hair, moving into an awkward teenager with more height than he knew what to do with, until finally he had become the man that was currently captured in this photograph. Ygraine hadn’t seen any of that, and Uther could imagine how she must be feeling. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

“You’ll see him soon enough. I doubt we’ll be able to keep him away. He’s as stubborn as either of us.” He sighed, shifting a little awkwardly. He loved his son, he honestly did. But showing it was another matter, after everything that had happened to bring him into the world. “He reminds me a lot of you,” he admitted. “He has a good heart, and back in Camelot the people love him. And he wins every tournament he enters... Although he most likely gets that from me.” He gave a genuine, slightly smug smile then.

“I will not dare to complain if he wants to come. I do not wish to complain, I want to see him. I will not impose in his life if he does not want me to, but I wish to see him in person.”

It wasn’t wrong of a mother to want to see her son, to hold him even for a moment. Especially since she will miss, has missed, his entire life. She smiled at Uther’s words, brushing her thumb over the portrait again. If she was honest he did have a few features that she could see coming from her, but she was yet to see his personality. She was sure it was perfect though. And to know that those in Camelot loved him made it even better, they would support him as King.

“Well I have never been as capable with a sword as you have.” She knew some basics, things she had begged Uther to teach her, just basics to defend herself.

“He’ll want you there,” Uther reassured her, before pressing his lips briefly against her temple and clambering to his feet as the kettle clicked off in the kitchen. His shoulder ached a little at the movement, some old battle wound flaring up, and Uther absently massaged the offending joint as the moved away from the sofa, leaving Ygraine with the photograph. At her point about his abilities witha sword, he smiled gently at her from over the room. “Was anyone?” he teased, before shaking his head. “I’m a bit old for it now.”

“The babies a bit bigger than she is there,” he told her, lifting his voice over the clatter of the tea-making. “You know how they grow.“ He kept glancing over, because it was just so odd to have her here, sat on his sofa. He had missed her so much. Every day had been a struggle, and now she was here and he could barely believe she wouldn’t be snatched away again. But the least he could do was make sure she met their family. Uther was still not Guinevere’s biggest fan - he was secretly convinced his son could have done better than a serving girl. but he knew Ygraine would probably scold him for saying such things, so he held his tongue, making up tea as he guessed she would like it and carrying it over.

When he stood up she noticed the slight problem and put it in the back of her mind to look into, or question, later. She didn’t like the thought that he was uncomfortable so she was unwilling to sit back and let it bother him more than it should. After all, when he use to come home from battles she use to help him, look after his wounds and sore muscles. It was what a wife should do.

“I have seen better. You are not that impressive,” she teased, laughing softly before looking back to the portrait. When he mentioned the baby, her eyes fell on the tiny bundle in the woman’s arms. She was adorable, and it was odd to think that she was her grandaughter. “They grow fast don’t they.”

Well too fast for her, since her son was a baby ten minutes ago and here he was a grown man. Soon he was back next to her, and she placed the liquid onto the table. She would drink it later, first she had to do something. Putting the portrait back, she shifted to look at him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Same pain from before?” After all it had been a wound that bothered him since he got it, not that many years ago for her but an age for him. It had always been something else she tried to focus on. “Here, let me help.”

Of course. It hadn’t been long ago for her that he had received the injury. He’d returned from some battle in some distant corner of Albion, sitting awkwardly but still straight-backed on top of his horse. But Ygraine had tended to him alongside Giaus and had fussed enough for a battalion of physicians. Uther reacted now much the same way he had then, with a huff and a roll of his grey eyes, but he moved to let her look at his shoulder, knowing it was less trouble to just let her get on with it than try and argue. Even if it wasn’t exactly good for his pride to have her treat him.

Still, he couldn’t resist a bit of a grumble. “I’m perfectly capable, Ygraine,” he muttered. “I’m not a ch-” He cut off with a sharp inhalation of breath as she pulled on his shoulder, and a part of him was pleased that she was here. Still, Uther had always had a reputation to keep up, even in a situation like this, and it took a certain person to see past his ways. Even as he complained, he was sure his wife would be able to see that deep down he was grateful.

“You know, for a King you act very much like a baby.”

She raised her brow at his mumble, laughing softly until he gasped when she touched his shoulder. But she needed a proper look to know where she was touching so she didn’t hurt him more so she quickly stood and moved to kneel in front of him, tugging at the shirt gently to pull it over his head. Once she had, she scrunched up her nose as she reached out to run her fingers over the wound. It had healed over time, of course, but she could see just by looking at it how sore it must be. Kneeling higher, she brought both hands up to massage the skin and muscles there in a way she knew would help.

“You have not taken enough care of yourself, Uther.”

It was true, although he was still not in bad shape she could see a few scars, a lot that she hadn’t seen before. New ones. But she had to focus on stopping the pain, loosening the stiff muscles at his shoulder.

Uther allowed her to tug his shirt over his head, revealing the damaged stretch of muscle and dramatic scar that ripped across his shoulder and down into his chest. He winced a little as Ygraine reached up to try and loosen the tight knot, before quickly gritting his teeth and watching her face instead as she worked to help him. Ygraine had always been good with things like this - she was forceful and yet somehow still gentle. She always had been. He shrugged a little at her words. “I did what I had to do. I had a Kingdom to run.”

He released a breath through his nostrils as finally some the tension started to leave his shoulder, reaching up to catch her hand in his and pressing his lips to her palm briefly. Uther sent his wife yet another faint, slightly sad smile, before her new phone suddenly buzzed. As she went to answer it, the older man reached for his shirt and tugged it back over his head, finding it a little easier now than he had a few minutes ago.

She never liked to see him like this, which wife would, but after years of having a husband who came from battle to her was enough practice to at least be use to it. Soon she could feel the muscles begin to loosen, and she was pleased enough that he would be able to move with more comfort than before now. That would be enough to make her happy. She smiled though when he pressed a kiss to her lips, looking up at him just as that contraption made a noise.

As Uther moved to dress again, Ygraine answered and was shocked to find it her son. Tears were in her eyes and the entire conversation had her wanting to cry and laugh and every other thing she could think on doing. Soon it became clear that in a few moments she was going to meet her son as a man, not the young boy that she saw before she arrived here.

Arthur was at a loss. He set the PDA on the cushion beside him and rested his head in his free hands, dragging his fingers back through his hair before turning to face Guinevere with a question in his eyes. Would she come with him? He knew she would have objections. This should be a private moment, she would only be in the way. She could go introduce herself in the morning. Arthur was simply looking for an excuse.

His gaze moved from her face to the tinier, but no less wide-eyed stare of his daughter. He tickled her reaching palms and bent to kiss them. “Do you want to meet your grandmother, princess?”

The answer would not be coming from Abigail, but from Gwen who held that decision tight to the chest.

Guinevere had been rather shocked to hear about Ygraine being here, even though she knew there was no reason why she couldn’t turn up at some point but she hadn’t readily expected it.Which perhaps was rather silly of her. But all she could do was comfort Arthur, and try and keep a hold of Abigail who would be able to sense her father’s emotions. She so much wanted to go with him, and she knew he probably wanted her there too, but if she was there he would not talk properly, he would rely so much on her being there.

“Would it not be better if you saw your mother yourself first? Take Abigail if you wish, but you really need to focus on your mother more and Abigail will want to feed soon, so she’ll get fussy. I think you should go alone, but if that is what you want I can’t stop you.”

“I’m not sure what I want. For as long as I can remember I wanted a chance to speak to her. I’ve dreamed of it, Guinevere. What if I’m not what she...” Arthur bowed his head. “I’ve never felt so foolish.”

“You’re not foolish, it’s understandable to feel like this. But you wont know until you go and if you don’t see her tonight you know you wont sleep well at all tonight,” she said before shifting Abigail into one arm to take Arthur’s hand. “Go see her. We’ll be here whenever you’re back. Just go see her before you go mad, she’s expecting you.”

“You’re certain you won’t come with me.” He was seeking excuses to dally a little longer. Arthur wanted nothing more than to brush aside the cynical and pessimistic voices in his head, but they were persistent as Morgana was on a rant. He stood, kissing Gwen’s cheek and the top of Abigail’s head, turning toward the door like a man condemned and wishing he could be giddy about this prospect, instead of torn and anxious.

“Go before I have to set Abigail on you,” she said with a laugh, tilting her head so he could kiss her easier before smiling down at her daughter. But when Arthur walked away, her eyebrow rose and she laughed, shaking her head. “Stop it. It’s going to be good, you know it will be. On you go. I love you.”

He waved her off, heading out the door like he knew what he was doing. Which was why he stopped in the hall immediately after the door shut and texted Morgana and Merlin, begging, without asking, for advice. Morgana’s response wasn’t necessarily unanticipated just not quite what he expected.

He pressed his head to the wall and glanced at his father’s door, straightening his shoulders and knocking with less force than he might normally have used.

Uther heard the knock at the door, faint as it was, and glanced over to his wife before he moved to answer it. “Are you alright?” he checked with her, hesitating with his hand on the handle before finally pulling it open, revealing their son stood awkwardly just outside, hovering in the hallway. Now more than ever Uther was struck with just how much Arthur reminded him of his Mother, and vice verca. Over the years it had faded somewhat, but now with Ygraine’s face fresh in his minds eye the similarities were obvious. Arthur looked nervous, and a little uncomfortable, and Uther suddenly felt a little guilty for the way this had been sprung on the younger man.

“Arthur.” Uther offered his son a genuine smile, happier than he had allowed himself to show in a long time, before stepping aside and turning to look across at the blonde woman currently occupying his sitting room, still holding the door open for his son to pass through.

“Ygraine, he’s here.”

“Fine,” she said when Uther questioned her. She was lying of course, she had lost her life not too long ago and she was about to see the reason. Not that she was angry or hated him for causing her death, it wasn’t his fault and had she survived she would willingly give her life for her family and for Camelot any day. They meant to world to her.

She took a moment to gather her breath and courage and didn’t look to the door until Uther said Arthur’s name and alerted her to his presence. She knew she must look strange, her nightgown plus the fleece that Uther had put over her shoulders, but she didn’t care just yet. And when she met her son’s eyes she cared even less.

“Oh lord,” she said quietly, pushing back tears. She was determined not to cry. “Look at you.”

Arthur didn’t move at first, too stunned and motionless from the happiness on his father’s face to push around him into the room. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen such genuine pleasure, if ever had it been there since he was alive, from his father and it took his mother’s quiet words to break him free from that moment.

He swore his neck cracked with how fast he turned to follow the voice deeper into the rooms. And all he could think was she was lovely and how much he wished he had known how much so sooner.

Arthur passed around his father, ignoring him to kneel in front of his mother and perhaps look the fool by staying there, gaping at her and being uncertain what he was supposed to do next. He’d never had a mother. There wasn’t training or knowledge for how he was supposed to interact with his own. Morgana and Merlin had been supremely unhelpful in that regard, for all their good intentions. He came. He entered the room. He was here.

He was too frightened to move or open his mouth and somehow offend her.

She could only just stare at Arthur when he went on his knees in front of her. He was so big, so adult. It was a bit of a shock to see the little boy who she could hold in her arms in front of her as a grown man. It was incredible and rather overwhelming. After a moment of really taking him in, she reached out to run her thumb over his cheek.

“You are so big,” she said quietly as she took him in again. She could see both herself and Uther in the boy before her. Uther’s strength could be seen even from the outside and she didn’t just mean physical. Her little boy had grown to be someone so incredible and she just wanted to know more and more about him.

But first she had to do this. Sliding forward, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. She was going to miss seeing every moment of his life and it hurt. She had so much to catch up on, to make up for.

“I am so sorry. I left you without a mother and I am so sorry for it.”

Even if it meant Camelot was secure she could see such a lost little boy in his eyes when she looked at him. And it ached to know she was the cause of that.

Arthur shuddered, leaning into her touch, but his eyes never left her face. It was as if he was afraid to look away because she might vanish before he looked back. He covered her hand with his own, ghosting it over her arm and around her back when she slid off the sofa to hug him. He couldn’t breathe, let alone think as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling sharply as he struggled not to cry.

“It isn’t your fault.”

Her boy. Gods it ached to hold him like this but she clung on for as long as she could. She didn’t really want him to let go but she knew she would have to at some point. She wanted to see his face more, really take it in. He was just so handsome and she couldn’t really believe that her baby was in front of her. After a moment, she pulled away from him and ran her fingers through his blonde hair.

“You look so big. You need to tell me everything about your life, Arthur. Your father said you take good fighting from him?”

His lips twitched and he forced himself to seek out his father’s figure in the room. It wasn’t untrue, but it was certainly enjoyable to poke fun at his father’s lack of discipline in the field over the past few years. “Did he?”

Uther had closed the door behind Arthur and sagged wearily back against it, watching the scene from the sidelines with a slightly stunned expression. It was bizarre, in the most wonderful way possible. Having his son and his wife here in the same room, something he had never expected and could barely wrap his head around, even as it played out as clear as day in front of him. It made his whole chest ache, and a lump swell in his throat. But he was an old man now, perhaps not compared to some people here but for his day and age he had lived more than enough, and perhaps he was being overly sentimental.

Uther pushed the lump down and pulled himself away from the door as Arthur looked for him. Uther raised a wry eyebrow.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Arthur. I can certainly still hold my own against you, as you well know. Ygraine, you should drink that before it gets cold.” He nodded to the cup his wife had left untouched on the sidetable, before moving into the kitchen to prepare one for Arthur. He may not have servants here, but he still had manners that must be observed, even with his own son. Uther’s hand ghosted over his wife’s shoulder as he passed, squeezing gently to offer some gentle reassurance. Although whether he was comforting her or himself had yet to be seen.

Ygraine couldn’t help but laugh at the light teasing between father an son. She hoped they were like this back in Camelot, but she would never know. The best she would have is her time here, seeing them interact now. And as much as she would like to watch Arthur grow, she was content to see him now. To learn now the life he had, and the personality he had developed.

“I do not know who I should want to be better,” she said with a smile.

She nodded at Uther, but didn’t move to drink it. She was too happy watching her sons face, drinking in every little detail. Only when Uther touched her shoulder so gently did she look up at him, grabbing it before he could walk away. Pressing a gentle kiss to the rough skin there, she smiled once more before letting him go.

Arthur smirked. “That could be arranged.” Not that he’d get away with it. Too many years of obedience and loyalty would prevent him from actually damaging his father’s reputation. Arthur settled for the knowledge that in a fair fight, with no one watching, he could kick the crap out of his father with a sword. But it never would take place in reality.

His gaze lingered on the sign of affection between his parents, feeling something blossom and ache within his gut. He could have seen this. Every day. Except life was rarely fair about things like this. Arthur had little doubt his entire life would have played out differently had his mother survived past child birth, and here was proof of point.

She kept her eyes on her husband for a few moments, just taking him in. Yes he had aged, obviously, but he still held that rugged look which captured her originally. And even if his eyes at first seemed so distant, she could already see the sparkle beginning to return. But when she finally looked back to Arthur her cheeks warmed as she blushed. It was crazy, he was her husband, and yet here she was acting like a young girl in the midst of her first love.

“You must tell me everything, Arthur. Spare no detail.”