Mistaken Identity

- 23 -

When Arthur arrived, Uther was dining alone in the hall.

He looked up as the doors opened and Arthur entered. When he saw that it was his son standing there, rather than a knight or, heaven forbid, Gaius again, his face lit up with hope. He straightened his back and attempted to smile. "Arthur! To what do I owe this... pleasure?" This time he managed to smile fully at his son.

"This visit isn't for pleasure, Father."

Uther's face fell instantly.

"Yes, of-of course." He nodded, burying his disappointment. "Why is it that you are here?"

"We need to talk. Properly, as..." Arthur hesitated. "As father and son."

"Indeed." Inside, Uther felt faith rise up inside him again. Perhaps his son would forgive him in time. He just had to make sure that it was possible. "How can I help you?"

I don't need your help with anything. I have truer friends than you. People I can rely on not to, hmm, let's see, burn me at the stake!"

"I'm sorry Arthur. I was trying to do the right thing: I never wanted to hurt you."

"Of course."

Uther's optimism - that maybe Arthur would accept his apology - slipped away at his son's next words.

"Because it's the right thing to do to kill your own son and being burnt at the stake doesn't hurt at all." Arthur's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Uther clenched his jaw in anger and sorrow. "I'm trying to apologise. Please, Arthur. I know it was wrong to believe that peasant, I was angry and I felt too betrayed to listen..." his list of excuses faltered and trailed away as he dropped his head into his hands. "I'm sorry."

"No! You're not! You're not sorry and you're not trying to apologise! You're trying to justify your actions: every time you say you're sorry, it's just followed with another bloody excuse, another reason why you were right and I was WRONG!" Arthur's quick temper flared.

The King raised his head and met his son's angry gaze. When Arthur searched his father's eyes, he saw nothing but sympathy, guilt, and a deep, heart-wrenching sorrow.

"You are wrong Arthur. I love you more than you could ever know and that will never change. I loved you when I falsely accused you of treason. I loved you when I threw you in jail for a crime you didn't commit. For heaven's sake, I loved you when you were dragged onto that damn pyre for no other reason than to save my wretched pride." His voice broke and his face crumpled as he attempted to keep the tears welling in his eyes from sliding down his cheeks. "I will make no more excuses. I was wrong. I'm sorry." A small sob escaped his lips. "I am so, so sorry."

"I know, Father. I know."

The King raised his head, his cheeks glistening with tears. "Please forgive me, Arthur." His eyes begged his son to see how much this meant to him.

They were both crying now, tear tracks shining in the dim light.

"You don't need to ask me to forgive you. I already have."

Uther stood and took a tentative step towards Arthur. In turn, the Prince allowed himself to move a little closer to his father.

Both paused uncertainly, neither of them used to showing emotions in front of the other. Then Uther, pushing through his pride, closed the short gap between them and embraced his son.

Arthur looked shocked at such an unusual and open display of affection from his father, who usually showed his approval as rather a lack of disapproval, before he tentatively returned the embrace.

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, Father."