A Different Destiny / Merthur

Long Live The King

"We must," the King continued, "locate the dragon."

Agravaine shook his head vigorously. "No, no, why do that? The beast is gone. You'd waste good men trying to take it down."

"Arthur could handle it, I'm sure."

"You'd send the Prince to his death!"

"I have every faith in him! You, on the other hand, are nothing but a coward."

Agravaine wheeled around. "Excuse me?"

"We have bigger problems at hand," Uther spat, stepping towards the door, "I do not wish to discuss this further."

"Oh? But I do."

"Well unfortunately for you, Lord Agravaine, you are not the King, and you do not give the orders."

Something of a smile crept onto the other man's lips. "Is that so?" He moved swiftly forward, almost gliding over the polished wooden floor, and stopping beside his brother-in-law. "Because I heard that the position had recently become available."

A frown flickered across Uther's face.

And then, as sudden as a lightning strike, Agravaine raised his hand, a dagger clutched tightly between his fingers, and plunged it downwards: straight into Uther's heart.

Morgana clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. She stood rigid. Her limbs had turned to ice and she could do nothing but watch.

"You see," Agravaine whispered, enjoying the way Uther clutched at his arm, "the people won't question the death of a King in a time like this. It was a tragedy, they'll say, he died trying to protect us. He died trying to put out the fires of the Great Dragon. He died in glory."

Uther tried to speak — to shout, for guards or for knights — but merely managed a small, strangled noise, that was followed by a spluttering of blood.

"And then," Agravaine continued, pulling the dagger free and watching as Uther's knees buckled beneath him, "they'll say, it's such a shame his son died too."

Uther's eyes widened, just slightly, as the last breath escaped from his lips. In that one, final moment he was able to grasp the true extent of Agravaine's betrayal as he kneeled, in agony, at his feet, knowing he could do nothing. Uther Pendragon, in his final moment, was utterly powerless.

And then he collapsed. 

With no life left to hold him up, he fell on to his side, hitting the floor with a dull thud, and was surrounded by a growing pool of his own dark blood.

"Long live the King," Agravaine spat.

Morgana watched as he wiped the dagger clean and tucked it safely into his robes. And then, taking a few deep breaths, he seemed to change his whole demeanour: he let his shoulders droop, clutched at his chest as though he'd been gripped by a sudden panic, and let out a blood curdling scream for the guards.

Morgana stumbled backwards.

"Guards!" He screamed again. "Someone help! The King has fallen! Guards!"