We Will Face God (And Walk Backwards Into Hell)

Part I: Of Dragons and Devils

Uther took Merlin's face in his hands, the wizard's seafoam eyes churning in color like a cat's eye marble. "For the greater good of the kingdom, my dear. To solidify a united Britain, to bring peace. You said that was worth any sacrifice."
"Perhaps I was wrong. Why don't I feel like I've done the right thing?" This wasn't right, normally Merlin was the calm one and Uther was the font of emotions...but ever since the thing with Igraine, Merlin was turning it over again and again in his mind while the king just talked about the whole thing like he was ordering a sandwich, and if the wizard was completely honest, it pissed him off. At least sometimes. "Why can't I get her eyes...their eyes out of my head?" Igraine's frightened and betrayed gray eyes, Morgana's teary eyes already full of hate and vengeance at such a tender age. Gorlois' dead, unseeing eyes. They came to him in some perverse slide-show, every time his own eyes closed into the darkness.
"When the child is born, you will change your mind." Uther with all his strength pulled Merlin into his embrace, who went with little protest. "What is the meaning of this, Uther?"
"Where is the light in your eyes, old friend?" Merlin looked ashen, almost as if he were a corpse and not a living being. He'd become even thinner than he was previously, his eyes were glassy and dull from lack of sleep. Even the moonlight was disappearing from his hair, Uther tried to sound confident but in his heart despaired as he was helpless to do anything about it.
"There is none...the priests said there never was, and I see now they were right. Poor Igraine. Uther...we will burn in hell for this."
"We shall, dear heart. We shall burn together, and it shall be glorious." Uther sunk his teeth into the soft skin of Merlin's neck, earning a most delightful whimper. The king chuckled against his throat before latching on with his lips, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. "You were never concerned about such things, what is the problem now? There's nothing to fear. Even if we do go to Hell, I don't fear a thing if you are by my side." Merlin huffed out a laugh. "Easy for you to say, cariad. You're a dragon...fire cannot kill a dragon."
"Neither can it harm a demon, or a half-demon specifically. They thrive in it. They are born of Hell, fire is their native element. So you see my love, we are both safe. We will dance in the fire, and be cleansed."
"Not my idea of a baptism, but..."
"Shhh." Uther pressed surprisingly gentle lips to Merlin's silver-gold curls. "It's over, let's not think on it now. Neither Death nor Time nor Hell itself can keep me from you. So if it goes down as you say, we will face God and walk backwards into Hell together."

Those were the words that the High King...former High King had used to comfort his lover during his moments of doubt. Merlin was as amoral as they came, the man had the stomach for deeds that sometimes even Uther himself would turn away from...and anyone would tell you that it took a lot to turn Uther Pendragon's stomach. He'd no clue why the wizard looked so concerned, so guilty after helping Uther win the beautiful Igraine. There was nothing more wrong there than there was in many of the other things they'd done, plus he was a king. He'd a right to have any lady in the kingdom, no laws were being broken. When the child was born, a boy that they'd called Arthur, Uther was quite pleased to find that Merlin had indeed seemed to change his mind. He fell in love with him almost instantly and spent all his time with the baby, almost as if he were his own son rather than Uther's. He was a little amused when his men came back to him and reported that it was with great reluctance that the infant was given to Sir Ector to be fostered, that he'd nearly had to be pried from Merlin's arms. If the boy had been a man, the king almost would've been jealous of the amount of his lover's attention that Arthur received. He'd gotten to see his son before they'd handed him off and the child was beautiful. Uther was more than pleased to see that he'd had his Pendragon blue-black hair and the shape of his face, but the storm-cloud colored eyes were entirely his mother's. Merlin had expressed disappointment that their "dragonling" didn't have blue eyes. "Then he could've been ours." Part of the king suspected that he was also disappointed because these were Igraine's eyes staring back at him, a constant reminder of what they had done, the price that had been paid for this little life.
"He is ours." was all Uther had said, squeezing Merlin's hand. "We made him, you and I." That always brought a smile to the wizard's face, even if nothing else did. Things had been so much simpler then, they merely had to put on a confident air and look to God and one another for strength.