Bastard's Beginning

Prologue

The Round Table was silent. King Arthur, the boy king, traced the grain of the oaken table with dazed eyes. Behind him, Merlin rested a comforting hand on his hunched shoulder. "I have foreseen it, Arthur. This very night." His weary eyes glazed as he recounted the memory that had forced this hurried meeting of the knights. "I saw Camelot in ruins. Fire, smoke, blood running the streets in rivers as it's people flee."

His voice deepened. "And at the centre of the chaos. A young woman, wielding a sword. Clad in basic armour, laughing with a pile of bodies at her back."

Sir Kay, Arthur's foster brother, spoke with the blunt voice that had made many a man cower. "Morgause's child? The babe born only yesterday?"

Arthur closed his eyes, his lips curving downwards. Merlin sighed, squaring his shoulders. "Aye. Morgause's child. Arthur's child."

The silence that hung over the gathered knights became deafening. Eyes bulged, jaws dropped and Arthur's cheeks darkened. Finally, he spoke and Sir Bors winced. The cheerful baritone of The King's husky voice had vanished. Now, the promised man who would unite the people of Camelot and rule the anticipated golden age sounded every inch the mere eighteen years he possessed.

"We didn't know." He stammered out, his eyes darting around the table yet meeting no one's incredulous stare. "We had never met before... The night of my coronation."

Arthur's heart raced and for a dizzying moment he thought he would drop down dead right there at the table. For a half second, he wished for it. The night of his coronation. Where the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen had tugged him into an empty ballroom. Ignorant of each other's names, cheeks flushed with wine and clumsy fingers fumbling with eagerness. His half sister.

Sir Kay's brow creased. Rarely a man of few words, even the potential ramifications of the night's revelations seemed to have curbed his sharp tongue. Merlin continued swiftly, seizing control of the room. "Once Arthur became aware of Morgause's identity, he came to me. We spoke to her immediately, urged her to add herbs to her tea to prevent pregnancy. Yet, she refused. She claimed that she was already pregnant before they laid together. That the child in her womb was fathered by her husband, Lord Lot of Lothian."

Merlin frowned. "This was quite clearly a lie," He murmured. "The child's magic is a mingling of Le Fay and Pendragon. The power of both bloodlines combined is unmistakable. Even in the midst of my dream, I could taste it."

"But can you be sure?" The words were blurted from Sir Perceval's mouth, his brown eyes radiating concern. Born a commoner, raised in an isolated forest cottage by a fearful mother, the gentlest of Arthur's knights no doubt feared for the child.

His concern had merit. Sir Bedivere's teeth snapped in warning. The most ferocious of the knights, nicknamed Berserker by watchers of the battlefield, voiced his thoughts. "Do not be a fool, Perceval," He snarled. "The woman saw an opportunity and took it. Morgause is a snake. Her venom has its roots." Hid dark eyes blazed, fixating upon Arthur. "She has been waiting for such an opportunity since King Uther raped your mother."

Silence fell upon the knights again and each pointedly averted their attention as Arthur blanched and Merlin paled. Sir Kay nodded slowly. "I hate to admit it," He mused absentmindedly. "But Sir Bedivere has a point. Who is to say that Morgause did not purposely target the King?"

Perceval shifted. "Surely even she would not dream... To knowingly commit the sin of incest..."

Sir Bors sighed heavily. "We cannot say for sure. What's done is done. All we can do now is deal with this situation in the best way we can and hope to minimise the damage."

Blonde hair gleamed in the candlelight and Sir Lancelot stirred. "No matter what we decide, news of this must not spread. To have such a stain upon your reputation when your reign is fresh and unstable would be disastrous."

Arthur stared at his best friend, horror creeping into his striking green eyes. "You're right." He breathed. "People are still divided in opinion of me. Rape and deception as my father did is one thing, an heir born of incest is a whole other abomination."

"A child!" Perceval protested hotly, eyes flickering desperately between the knights. "Mordred is her name. I saw a glimpse of her yesterday. Morgause was showing her to members of your court."

Merlin finally intervened. "The child cannot be allowed to live." He insisted, grizzled features betraying no hint of doubt. "What is the cost of one life, compared to millions?"

King Arthur finally seemed to shake himself from his stupor under the pleading gaze of Sir Perceval. "We will not harm..." He hesitated. "The child." My child.

Shame rose like bile at the back of his throat. What could he do? He could not claim the child as his own, that much was obvious. Camelot needed to be united, its people loyal to their leader. He was the hero that had been promised, the one who would keep them safe and ensure their prosperity. Deeper, below the thoughts of duty, selfish fear lingered, it's taint abhorrent to him.

Arthur imagined the people, their faces shifting from warm affection to disgust, their scorn and their insults. Perhaps no one would say it to his face, but he knew every time he turned his back the whispers would meet his ears, like bitter smoke carried on the breeze. Merlin cleared his throat.

"We have time." His voice was even, both words and tone a balm to Arthur's fear. "Morgause and Lord Lot will not be leaving until the end of spring. She must heal, the birth has taken its toll."

The child. Arthur had always wanted his own children. To be the father Uther had never been to him. But not like this. Never like this. The knights seemed unable to find the words to comfort him as tears shimmered like dewdrops on his cheeks. Lancelot stood, pressing a hand to his king's shoulder, his eyes violet in the weak candlelight. "We will fix this," He promised. "If I have to rip the child from Morgause's arms myself."

Arthur felt the tingle of magic beneath his skin, the flame that warmed his belly reacting to his dizzying array of emotions. The King had done unspeakable things with his magic. All to claim his birthright, the place he was fated to protect. Excalibur at his hip seemed to grow heavier. And all at once he wished he'd never pulled the damn thing from that stone.