bitchprince | Camelot, Sunday

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Camelot, Sunday

Matters were not exactly improving any.

After tossing and turning a bit last night trying to figure out how the bloody hell they were getting out of this predicament, Arthur looked a bit the worse for wear. Not that he'd admit to it, or do anything but keep his back straight.

He'd told Katchoo and Francine to use the servants' quarters closer to his chambers this time, as a precaution. Now he was up, though, and getting ready to meet with his father for the morning's briefing.

Oddly enough, he felt less than eager about it.

[[ wait for the ocd; spoilers for Merlin episodes 2x05 and 2x06, 'The Beauty and the Beast' ]]

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Uther's foot almost missed the next step as he put it down. "...I beg your pardon?!"

"I said you're wrong," Arthur said, the sound of his own heartbeat, so loud in his ears, overriding the fear in his stomach. He dragged his eyes up, and looked Uther directly in his. "Without the people, there is no Camelot. We're as much their servants as they are ours."

"Are you just going to let him talk to you like that?" Catrina screeched. Arthur was quickly beginning to resent the sound even worse.

"No, of course not," Uther growled, walking towards Arthur. "You are going to take these guards, and go into town, and go to every house, collecting the payments I demand!"

Here it was, then.

He could stand here, and bow, and give in, and throw his own morals out the window, or he could stand against his father.

The whirl of feelings in his stomach got worse, and he swayed from one end to the other, torn.

"I will not," Arthur said, at last.

That silence stretched out on Uther's part, now, his eyes searching Arthur's for something else, something less infuriating.

"Get out of my sight," he hissed, soft, low, but none the less damaging for it.

Arthur-- flinched, didn't really flinch, the slightest increment of something that could be a flinch.

"Yes, sire," he said, formally, grasping desperately for protocol to fill up the gap where his entrails used to be. Then he spun on his heel, and stalked formally out of the room.

Oblivious to the words Catrina was whispering to Uther the moment his back was turned.

He nearly slumped back against the doors once they were closed. Instead, he stopped just there, in the middle of the hallway, staring at the wall, studiously blank.

"Arthur?"

Francine had seen him coming into the castle, but hadn't caught up in time to speak to him before the audience chamber doors shut with him on the inside. So she'd been loitering not at all suspiciously in the corridor, yes, trying very hard to look as if she'd been sent for and it was her turn.

"What happened?"

"I told my father I refused to collect the tax," Arthur said, dully. That wall was so fascinating.

"Good!" It hadn't taken long for the servants to start whispering and worrying about it when he'd been sent out to get it in the first place. "I mean, isn't it?"

"He refuses to let it lie," Arthur said, tone as flat as could be. "So I have been excused from the room. For the moment."

"I'm not sure I'd count that as a bad thing," Francine said, though he obviously was. "I'm sorry he's not listening to you, though."

"It's his right not to listen to me. He is the King."

It was an unnecessarily snappish comment, he knew that, but he couldn't really find it in him to care, at the moment.

Within the audience chambers, there was movement, as Uther came to a decision.

"He's your father." And those were always interested in what their kids had to say, right? Right. "And besides, you're the heir to the throne. If anybody's got the right to tell him he's being dumb, it's you."

"I do not," he said, stiffly.

And he may have said more, or he may have not; either way, it made no difference, because the doors behind Arthur opened, and a message boy stepped out. "The king asks that all assemble in his audience chambers immediately," he said, "especially Prince Arthur."

Arthur shut his mouth, and turned.

Francine might have had something to say on the topic as well, but not in front of a page boy and everyone who was currently rushing down the halls toward them. As it was, she just frowned at Arthur, not in disapproval, but frustration.

Arthur shook his head, and simply strode into the audience chambers anew. His father looked... unavailable, for the moment, but his demeanour slowly changed as more and more people filed into the room.

Finally, when all seemed to stand at rest, Arthur began, "Father--"

"I am relaxing your duties and revoking your title," Uther said, without giving the statement even a moment's pause. "We live in dangerous times. I cannot allow you to undermine my authority."

Arthur looked like he was about to choke; a wave of nausea passed over him, but he valiantly ignored it. "You've always welcomed my counsel in the past," he said, struggling to grasp it. Surely, they'd fought like this before, but--

"You stood against me for all the people to see," Uther snapped.

"...I'm... sorry," Arthur said, slowly. "Any future grievances I have will be spoken of in private."

"It's too late for that," Uther said, dismissively, and paced back towards his throne.

Behind him, Arthur started forward. "Father--"

"You are to be disinherited," Uther restated, viciously. "With immediate affect. You are no longer Crown Prince of Camelot."

Arthur stared; it was the only thing he had in him to respond, even as Gaius started forward and began to plead with Uther for reason.

Disinherited.

Not fit for the throne.

Not good enough.

Too many mistakes.

But he'd--- But.

You know Francine had kind of longed to smack Arthur's father before she even met him? If she wasn't busy watching somebody she cared about crack, she'd be risking her fool neck to live the dream, right now.

"Arthur..." Not that she was close enough for that to do any good. Not that it would have done any good if she was standing right next to him.

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Camelot, Sunday

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Re: Audience Chambers, Sunday Afternoon

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