Since Birth

Chapter Twenty-Six

A bed meant for two was now for only one. 'A perfect soldier' is what Uther had titled Arthur to be now. A mere pawn on a chessboard waiting for the higher power to make the next move. Arthur finally saw how the world was shaped. Everything had an order—a process that had to be completed in order for humanity to go on. Did Uther consider the burning a mark of good doing or rather a sacrifice?

Arthur knew Merlin wasn't gone. It was impossible for him to comprehend that. Merlin had magic. Surely he must've just faked it. But Arthur knew that look. That same look in his eyes is what he saw what every other innocent on that pyre was experiencing.

Arthur rubbed his eyes, groggily turning to gaze at the windows. Light peered through the cracks in the opaque fabric. He had spent a lot of time sleeping lately. Disorganization was now a prominent factor that played a role in Arthur's life. When he wasn't taking time to stare out the window of his room, he was in the blanket of unconsciousness. But now he was up, making his way to the throne room. He brought a sword with him, hoping a deed would be done if it got to that. If he was strong enough. Arthur's emotional state had caught up to him rather than his wit and confidence, which he needed dearly.

Once a son to a father. Would he call that man as such again?

Arthur silently nodded to the guards to open the doors. Sunlight bathed him instantly, as he squinted to look at his King. The young blond dipped his hand to faintly touch the sheathed sword in its case. He exhaled. Both mens' postures were taut. Arthur's mouth felt dry of expression. He was waiting for his emotions to bounce back with ferocity rather than shock. He will not have his loved ones be cut loose like an asset to a house.

"What a pleasant surprise," Uther said. It was almost taunting—as if he was playing with a cat begging of food.

'Father' almost came as an instinctual word, but Arthur bit his lip, holding back his words. He would not make eye-contact—he knew he would see the blood lust in the elder's eyes.

"My King," Arthur replied.

Uther snorted, readjusting in his seat, picking up a wine glass he was formerly drinking. "Cut the crap, you are my son, not some mere peasant." As he spat the sentence, Arthur flinched as he saw a flick of saliva fly into the King's glass. Uther stirred his glass as he let the two liquids submerge and bond. Arthur stared at the wine glass. His brows laced. That color—that color—reminded him of the blood that leaked as Merlin died. The blond didn't dare blink, thinking for a split second that his former father had actually had his lover's blood in his glass.

"Uther," he restated, finally looking away from the glass. It wasn't at the King. Arthur would never look the man in the eyes again. "Give me one reason why I should not kill you."

Uther chuckled.

"So you think this is joke? You think taking someone away I love is a joke?"

"Ah...Arthur you always had a sense of humor." He glanced down at the wine glass, sloshing the substance once again.

Arthur gave a cold smile. Nevertheless, though, it was the first smile he had given in days. "Must've gotten it from mother, then, eh? It's obvious you lack that characteristic."

Uther raised his chin. "I show it in odd ways."

"Then tell me, then. Is this a joke? Mother was lost and you didn't seem to laugh about that-"

"Watch your tongue!" Uther barked, standing from his throne to throw a glare.

Arthur had felt something new suddenly spark since Merlin's death. Confidence. And damn did it feel good. "Or what, Uther? What? I had never met the woman, yet I too have an attachment to her. She is my mother, but you—you are not my father."