Category: Gen (canon)
Characters/Pairings: Gaius, Uther
Rating/Warnings: M; descriptions of violence; genocide
Summary: An account of the Great Purge.
Notes: Title from Night of the Crickets by mr. Gnome. Takes several of my other stories as canon, but they do not need to be read in order to understand this one.
Other notes: An absolutely enormous thank-you to CaptainOzone for being the best beta on the planet. If any mistakes remain then they are entirely my own. Also, thank you to all the writing channel regulars over on the Heart of Camelot for putting up with my angsting and for being so immensely encouraging. And above all, this story is dedicated to my dear friend Heather, for being the best friend I've made in years. Thank you for everything, darling, and I love you to pieces.

Chapter 1

O villain, villain, smiling, damnéd villain!
My tables—meet it is I set it down
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain
-Hamlet, Act I, scene 5, 106-108

Nimueh vanished overnight.

There were whispers of necromancy, of screams from inside the throne room during the king's vigil, and it was said that guards were seen dragging Nimueh from within; but Gaius couldn't accept these rumors, because Nimueh would never dabble in such a dark art, and Uther would never be so desperate as to ask her. And while that rumor was quickly stamped out it could not be denied that Uther was angry and that Nimueh was inexplicably gone, and somewhere along the line the gossip that she had been banished for murdering the queen in her birthing bed turned into fact until there was no one left in Camelot who believed otherwise.

Except Gaius.

He had been there when the bargain had been struck, and Ygraine's name had never been mentioned. He had never asked who was supposed to die in the little prince's stead, but when he closed his eyes at night he could see Nimueh in Ygraine's chamber, weeping as though her heart would break, clutching the queen's hand and repeating, "It wasn't supposed to be her, it wasn't supposed to be her," so he found it hard to doubt her word. And yet she was gone, and there was no other explanation, so Gaius said nothing as the court gossiped and lied and said they knew it all along.

- -o- -

When the summons arrived a week later, Gaius feared that he too was about to be banished, because it had been he who had gone to the Isle of the Blessed to meet with Nimueh in the first place. But when he arrived in Uther's chambers he found him standing by the window, staring out into the courtyard, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Did something happen during training, sire?" he asked, daring to hope, because while he could help with any physical damage, he could do nothing to fix a broken heart. But the king said nothing, and Gaius resigned himself to consoling his proud friend as best he could.

"Do you trust magic, Gaius?" Uther asked after a long silence, still not turning round.

"Sire?"

"Magic, Gaius," Uther repeated forcefully to the window. "Do you trust it?"

Gaius shifted uncomfortably. "I — I don't understand," he said. And he did not. Magic... was. It was everywhere, in everything; in the air, the water, the trees. Asking if he trusted magic was like asking if he trusted his heart to beat and his lungs to draw breath — unthinkingly, and without a doubt. But for some reason he felt that the king, in his current mood, would not accept this answer. "Yes. Yes, I do," he said at length, as finally Uther turned to stare him down with that same dangerous look that had been present since Nimueh's disappearance.

"I fear your trust has been misplaced, then," Uther said, almost pityingly. "As was mine."

"Sire?" Gaius said again, taken aback.

"I trusted magic," Uther continued, turning back to the window. "I trusted magic, and it took everything from me."

It broke Gaius' heart to hear the waver in his friend's voice, but he couldn't waver himself, so he said as gently as he could, "Not everything, sire. You have your son. You have Arthur, and—"

"At what price?" Uther gritted out, shoulders hunched. "Ygraine is gone, and she can never come back, no matter what I—"

He cut himself off and drew in a shuddering breath, and in a flash of horror Gaius wondered if perhaps those rumors of necromancy had been quashed so quickly for a reason; but the thought was too horrible to contemplate, so he forced down the bile that rose in his throat and opted for comfort instead. "There's nothing that anyone could have done," he said soothingly, taking a step forward. "We did everything we could — every herb, every spell — Nimueh nearly killed herself try—"

"Do not speak the name of that witch in front of me," Uther spat, whirling around with sudden fire in his eyes, and his vehemence shocked Gaius into silence. "She took her from me. She gave me hope and she took it away, and now Ygraine is gone. She killed her, Gaius."

"Nimueh did not mean for Ygraine's life to be taken," Gaius said softly. "There was a price to be paid, but it was never meant to be Ygraine." Uther scoffed, a sad, strangled puff of disbelief, but he had deflated a little so Gaius pressed on, finally seeing a way to clear his friend's name, at least with the king. "Sire, I don't think Nimueh even had a choice in the matter. I know very little about the intricacies of life-magic, but from what I've read, the priestess who bargains for a life rarely has a say in who it is that will pay the price unless that person specifically volunteers. Magic has a way of determining these things — it's all about balance, and keeping things on the preordained path. Sometimes no matter who the priestess specifies, magic will take the life of a certain person instead."

"So it was magic itself that killed Ygraine," Uther mused, sounding perversely satisfied. "Yes... yes, that makes much more sense..."

And Gaius remembered then what Uther had been saying at the beginning about distrusting magic, and felt a rush of panic. "Sire, what — it's not—" he stammered, and tried to explain; everything he had said was true, at least as far as he understood it, except Uther was interpreting it all wrong. "It's not malicious or — or targeting people, but it knows, somehow, who has to die — that's why it created the Questing Beast, as an omen, and I told you that I saw something outside the queen's window that night—"

"Ygraine did not have to die," Uther snapped.

"That's not what I meant," Gaius said helplessly, because how could he explain something that he hardly understood himself, especially to one who refused to hear it? "Sire, if you'd just—"

"You may go, Gaius," said Uther abruptly, turning away from the window and stalking over to his desk.

Gaius remained for a moment, shifting from foot to foot as he watched the king stare at his papers; he wanted to keep arguing, but when Uther continued to ignore him he finally sighed and bowed respectfully. "Sire," he said, turning to leave, but Uther's voice stopped him once more.

"Thank you, Gaius. You've been very helpful."

And for some reason, those words filled Gaius with a sick sort of dread.

- -o- -

For days afterwards, Gaius kept a close eye on the king, and even found excuses to visit him and gauge his mental state, but the king seemed to have forgotten their conversation — although he often became lost in thought as he stared at the chair where Ygraine used to sit, and there were whispers that he did so everywhere: in council, at mealtimes, even in the gardens where they used to walk together, until the servants took pity and moved them. And while Gaius often wondered what he thought about, he was so pleased Uther seemed to have settled into a less paranoid form of mourning that he did not press; and after several long talks with Alice, Gaius realized that he was reading far too much into a conversation that was surely only motivated by grief. The king had never truly understood magic, and it was only natural that losing Ygraine would make him lash out, as Gaius had experienced time and time again with the family members of some of his patients. And if Nimueh had to pay the price of Uther's misdirected rage — well, that couldn't be helped.

And so he did not take notice as reports began to trickle in from all over Camelot, reports of magical creatures attacking villages, of sorcerers playing tricks on innocent passersby to cheat them of their money and possessions, of a hedgewitch who drowned her children for not having the gift and then killed the soldiers who came to arrest her. He did not notice how more and more of their discussion during council sessions was spent on the misuse of magic, of rumors of necromancy on the Isle of the Blessed and of accidents caused by out-of-control sorcerers, and when Uther called a special council to discuss 'a matter of great urgency,' Gaius did not even think twice about it, and entered the hall expecting an update on the activity on the Caerleon border, or a tax revision, or even the announcement that a neighboring king was coming to visit — anything but what he received.

The session began as usual, with the lords gossiping like washerwomen while they awaited Uther's arrival. Gaius was just discussing with Gorlois whether his wife needed a sleeping draught to quell her recent restlessness when Uther swept in, looking grim and foreboding, and they all followed him to their seats. The last murmurs died down as Uther waited impatiently, and every eye was fixed on him as he rose slowly from his chair.

"I have gathered you here today," Uther began, "to discuss magic."

A cold knot of fear formed in Gaius' belly, but he carefully schooled himself to keep even a shred of it from appearing on his face because Uther's eyes lingered on him as he looked round the council. Gaius sneaked a glance at the rest as soon as Uther moved on; the lords all appeared interested, even afraid, and Gaius suddenly realized that he had no idea whether they shared his own fears about what was to come, or if they had already begun to fear magic itself.

"I'm sure you have all noticed that there has been a recent surge in magical activity," Uther continued. "Thefts, murders... just this morning my guards arrested a man who stood in the streets proclaiming the superiority of sorcerers and swearing that their time had now come, and that all others would be subjugated. He tried to kill the soldiers who came after him — they were lucky to escape with their lives."

Gaius had heard not a word of this; Alice had gone down to the market to restock and had not mentioned any such incident, but the council looked distinctly perturbed, and Uther ploughed on before he lost his captive audience.

"It has become clear to me in recent days that the death of my wife seems to have been some sort of sign," Uther said, and Gaius felt sick and his mouth tasted of ashes, because as he looked around at the men surrounding him it seemed that all of them — the majority of them — were nodding. "A public way of showing the power of magic. Nimueh—"

There was a collective hiss at her name, such had the rumors taken root, and Gaius could say nothing in her defense because it was far too late, because the hatred for his old friend had been planted weeks ago, and as he studied Uther's face he saw that the corners of his mouth twitched up before he continued, "The witch was trying to lead a revolution."

"And it seems like the bitch is succeeding," said Lord Eldridge, who Gaius knew almost for a fact had been prepared to leave his wife in the hopes that Nimueh would notice him, and the lords snorted at his play on words even as they scowled their assent. As he watched in silence he knew that it was far too late now to see that all of the small stories he had been hearing for weeks added up to a narrative of which he should have been suspicious, because it had all happened so quietly and so naturally that Gaius had not even realized that the king had not forgotten at all, and had instead been waging a quiet war on magic while Gaius went about his daily life in ignorance.

Then Uther's eyes were on him as the council began to talk amongst themselves, and Gaius swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, against the words that were threatening to spill out about how wrong all of this was, but Uther hadn't been swayed the last time, and it was never best to confront him about things in public anyway. So he forced a smile and a nod, and Uther smiled back in a way that Gaius hadn't seen since Ygraine died, with utter delight in an old friend, and suddenly Gaius remembered that Uther was implacable and headstrong and king but he was still so, so young, and he looked to Gaius for guidance even if he never admitted it fully.

And as Uther turned away to bring the council round to talk about protective measures, Gaius felt deep in his gut that the moment for protest may have just passed unregarded.

- -o- -

Gaius hastened back to his chambers afterward, desperate to speak to Alice and ask her what he should do, what he could do now that Uther had already planted the idea in the minds of the lords, and found her in the middle of teaching their apprentice how to enchant a headache potion.

"Alice!" he called, letting the door fall behind him and breaking her concentration, and she turned toward him with a scowl.

"Gaius, look what you've done! It's ruined now, I'll have to start from scratch! Couldn't you be more — Gaius?" she asked, finally taking in his expression. "Gaius, is something the matter?"

"Julius, leave us please," he ordered. "Go down to the market and — and fetch some more rosemary." The lad shot him a look — Alice had, after all, just restocked everything — but Gaius stared him down until he left without a word. Gaius waited until the door had swung shut behind him before saying urgently, "Alice, you must tell me — this is important — did you see anything unusual down at the market today?"

"Unusual? No, not at all — well, there was a new vendor there, all the way from Bharata, and he had the most wonderful selection of herbs — we really must go down together soon to look, he promised to set some aside for me, and —"

"There was no commotion? No disturbances?" Gaius interrupted, striding over to her. "Alice, please! Uther mentioned a man preaching about sorcery, he—"

"Him?" Alice said with a laugh. "Well — yes, there was a man there, and he was going on about how 'it is the age of magic' and how 'those without the gift will learn their place' and all that, but nobody paid any serious attention to him. I felt rather bad for him, really; he didn't seem right in the head, poor man. In fact that vendor and I were discussing—"

"But — but Uther said that he tried to kill the guards who came for him," Gaius said weakly. "Didn't—?"

"Good gracious, no!" Alice exclaimed, startled. "There was a little bit of a fuss — he put up a fight at first — but in the end he went quietly. Really, Gaius, hardly anyone noticed him. He was just some lunatic, and then the guards came and got him, and everyone went back to business. I don't know why Uther would bring him up in council. He was hardly a threat."

"But he was," Gaius said, and sat down heavily, his face in his hands. "Not — not to anyone at the market. But he was a threat, because Uther said so, and now all the lords think he was a herald of the revolution of magic users against the kingdom."

"Wh — what?" Alice whispered after a moment of horrified silence. She dropped down onto the bench next to him and her hand found his. It was shaking. "He—"

"He and the council drew up legislation that — that magic-users have to submit their names to a registrar. Those who don't will be imprisoned as a threat to the kingdom." He paused to take a deep breath, and Alice's hand was crushing his as he said heavily, "It will be announced tomorrow."

They sat in silence for several long moments before Gaius finally sighed and spoke what had been weighing on his heart. "He never forgot." Alice shifted her head off his shoulder to look at him, but he couldn't look her in the eye. "He never forgot our conversation. And — and I have done nothing to change his mind since. I let his grief take over and pervert his judgement, and now it has come to this, and — and I fear there is nothing that can be done to stop it. He has planted it in the minds of the council now, Alice. He has planted fear there after spending these past weeks preparing, and... it's my fault, Alice, because I couldn't change his mind earlier."

"Gaius..."

"But it is," he insisted as tears pricked at his eyes. "He trusts my knowledge of magic, and it was not enough to turn him from this path. No, even — I put him on this path. If I hadn't tried to defend Nimueh—"

"You were trying to clear the name of a friend," Alice said gently. "It is not your fault that he misinterpreted."

"I should've—"

"You could have done nothing more," she said firmly, but Gaius talked over her.

"I should've spoken up in the session. I should have said something. But instead I sat there because... because I'm afraid, Alice. Because... I fear that this is just the beginning. After the council meeting I saw him talking with a few of the lords — Eldridge and Godwyn, and Bors, and Agravaine. And... they're powerful, Alice. They're influential. The others listen to them, and if he has their support, then the council will follow their lead and do nothing to stop this."

"Are there any who would?" Alice asked haltingly.

Gaius sighed. "A few. Very few, by the end, because Uther was persuasive. Lord Mark... Lord Ector... Gorlois. Geoffrey. Aurelius, of course. They looked — worried. But the rest..."

"Gorlois," said Alice, pulling away excitedly. "Gaius — if Gorlois is on our side then there is still hope. Gorlois is Uther's best friend — he trusts him more than anyone — and isn't he influential because of that? Oh, Gaius — you can talk to him. And he can talk to Uther. Can't he?"

"Alice," Gaius breathed, and kissed her. "Oh, Alice, where would I be without you? Yes — you're right. Of course you're right. I'll go speak to him now."

- -o- -

When Gaius knocked on Gorlois' door it was not he who answered, but his wife. "Lady Vivenne," Gaius greeted respectfully. "Is your husband back yet?"

She looked at him for a long moment before stepping aside and beckoning him in. "No," she answered, wrapping her robe more closely around her, and it was then that Gaius realized that she was still wearing her bedclothes even though it was almost midday. "I haven't seen him since before the council meeting."

"It was about that meeting that I came to speak with him," Gaius said as she ushered him into a chair. "Although — he did mention that you haven't been sleeping well recently. Is your bracelet not working properly? Perhaps you need me to prepare you a sleeping draught?"

Vivienne stilled suddenly, setting down the pitcher of wine she'd been pouring, and though her back was to him the outline of her shoulders seemed very tense. "No," she whispered. "No, sleeping draughts will not help. And my bracelet has been — it has not been working, these past nights."

"May I take a look at it?" Gaius asked hesitantly; despite their history, Vivienne had always intimidated him. "My magic is not strong, but perhaps I can detect some fault...?"

"You may look," Vivienne said, returning to the table and handing him a cup before holding out her wrist. "But I fear that you will find no fault in the spell. I enchanted it myself when I finished my training, before I left the Isle of the Blessed to marry Gorlois, and it hasn't failed me until now."

Gaius placed his hands on either side of the bracelet and let his magic twine through the silver, looking for holes in the spell, but there were none. "You're right," he said, releasing her. "If the bracelet itself is fine... why do you think it's not working for you?"

Vivienne sat down heavily in the chair across from him, staring out the window. "There are some dreams that are so powerful that no magic can stop them," she said distantly. "I have read of such prophecies... but I never dreamt—" she laughed bitterly — "I never dreamt that I would be one of those Seers who was so blessed." And at that, Vivienne took a shuddering breath and a deep drink from her cup, and added in a whisper, "But never before has my gift felt so much like a curse."

And Gaius finally noticed how pale and drawn she looked, how her eyes were rimmed with red as if she had been crying — and perhaps she had been. "What was the dream, milady?" he asked softly.

"You know it already," Vivienne answered, and though he could see how her hand shook when she lowered her goblet to the table, her voice was calm and level. "It is the same dream I had many years ago, when my daughter was born." Then she looked him straight in the eye and whispered, "I do not speak of Morgana."

Gaius felt the breath leave him. "My lady," he croaked. "Vivienne. Are you—?"

"I am certain," Vivienne replied, staring out the window once more. "I had forgotten about it, until now. I had convinced myself... I had told myself that it would never come to pass, and I became complacent. We all did — you, me, Nimueh... but especially me. For what I saw — it was enough to make me give up my daughter, was it not? And if that was not enough of a lesson, well — what a fool I am, to believe that changing one of the details would prevent the entire tragedy. I may have saved her from the pyre upon which I saw her burn, but many others will take her place."

"So — so it is to happen, then," Gaius said numbly. "I came to speak to Gorlois because — but it won't help, will it? Even if we delay it—"

"No. It will not help," said Vivienne sadly. "Gorlois will do what he can, for now — but it will not be enough to stem the tide. And he will turn against me in the end."

Gaius shook his head. "No. No, my lady, he loves you, he would never—"

"I have done things, Gaius, that would make any man turn against me," Vivienne said. "And Uther knows about them. Oh, he knows, and he is unforgiving. If he truly has begun this campaign then I am not safe, even from my own husband. He will turn against me, and — and perhaps I deserve it."

"My lady—"

"It is as it should be, Gaius," she said sharply, but her face softened when she saw his despair, and when she continued she spoke much more gently. "This time has been prophesied, Gaius. By more than just me. It has been written about since the beginning of time, though we did not realize that it spoke of today until it was already too late. And if what they say is true, then it is the long, black night before the dawn."

"None of us will live to see it," said Gaius.

"No, we shan't," Vivienne acknowledged. "But it will come. Someday it will come."

But somehow, facing down the infinite darkness, the promise of sunrise did not give him hope.

- -o- -

Night had fallen before Gaius could spare the time, but he finally made his way down to the dungeon to speak with the madman from the market. He did not know what prompted him to seek him out — perhaps it was because he had heard two very different versions of what had happened, and wanted to know the truth — but he had felt a pressing need to learn the truth, to learn whether or not the man was mad or truly set in his convictions, and so after finishing his rounds he blustered his way past the guards and stood before the cell.

"You there," he hissed to the lump on the cot. "Wake up. I want to speak with you."

The lump shifted and moved to reveal a middle-aged man whose round face split into a wide grin when he saw Gaius. "About time, eh?" he said, launching himself off his cot and coming over to stand by the bars. "Figgers ye'd wait till dark, though, seeing as he wanted it all secret-like. Ye got all of it?"

Gaius only stared. "All of what?" he asked, nonplussed.

"Me money, o' course," the man boomed with a chuckle, but then he stopped and looked warily at Gaius. "Ye are here ter pay me, aren't ye? I don't want ter rush 'im, on'y I have children ter feed, and the wife don't even know where I am. Prolly thinks I'm off at the tavern with Ord an' the lot, don' even know I got meself this job." He beamed at Gaius as though he should be proud, but Gaius could only look back at him with dawning horror.

"Sorry — what job? Who's — who's paying you?" he stammered.

The man seemed to discover some sense of self-preservation, because he looked over at the guards before leaning in and whispering, "The king, o' course." Gaius drew back as he continued, "'E brought me in all secret-like an' asked me if I could go down ter the market an' say some things. 'Sure,' I says, 'what kind o' things?' An' he promised me all sorts o' gold if I'd talk about them sorcerers an' their craft an' then let meself be taken in, an' I says, 'Yes sir, Tommen's yer man,' an' then he told me wot ter say, an' — wot is it?" he broke off as Gaius leaned against the bars because all the strength had left his legs.

"Nothing," Gaius got out. "It's nothing — what did you say your name was?"

"Tommen Acker, at yer service," replied the man, bowing a little.

"Tommen Acker," Gaius repeated weakly, and watched the man, the poor doomed man, jabber on about how much his family needed the money, and how he'd gone to a section of the market where none of his friends ever frequented so they wouldn't see him rabbiting on 'like some sort o' loony,' and how he very much wanted to get out of this cold cell and go home to his wife. And he thought that this man had indeed let himself be taken in, but not in the way that he'd meant; he'd been taken in just like the rest of them, taken in by Uther's pretty words and false smiles, while all the while he twisted and manipulated reality to fit his will.

"Tommen Acker," he said, interrupting him, "I will pray for your quick release. And I will speak to the king about your payment."

"Thank ye, sir," Tommen said, bowing again. "Ye're too kind."

But he wasn't, Gaius thought as he walked away. He wasn't kind, because he knew that Tommen Acker would only leave that cell to be executed, yet he didn't warn him or offer him words of comfort, didn't do more than perpetuate the falsehood that had landed him there in the first place. He wasn't kind, because he was never going to speak of this to the king, not if he wanted to live, even if he was only going to live for a little longer.

And Gaius hadn't known that it was possible to feel more afraid than he did after speaking to the Lady Vivienne, but then he hadn't known about poor, doomed Tommen Acker and the depths to which Uther was willing to sink.

- -o- -

The register went into effect with surprisingly little protest from the people — but then, the decree had been very prettily worded, and the people did not know that the king had already turned against magic. Those who did protest were arrested, and while Gaius did not hear of their executions, he did not hear of their releases either.

The issue of magic was not brought up in council again, but Gaius began to hear it whispered about in the market place as reports continued to pour in from around the country about magical beasts attacking villages, about horrific crimes perpetrated by those who the victims had considered friends, and Gaius wondered how many of these whispers and stories were true and how many of them had been created by the king.

He had not told Alice what he had learned from his visit to the dungeons, although he had anonymously sent money to poor Tommen Acker's family once Uther had mentioned in council that he had been hanged. He had not mentioned it to Alice because he wanted to spare her, because there was precious little hope left for those of them who knew what was coming and he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

Because the darkness was inching closer by the day. Gorlois tried to change the king's mind — Gaius saw him talking to Uther after council in the hallways, after training sessions, sometimes even in his chambers at night while Gaius dropped off a headache remedy for the king — but evidently he was not making any headway, because while magic itself was never discussed in council, they received weekly updates from the registrar, and after every session Gaius saw Uther pull a different lord aside. He did not know exactly what was said, but he suspected that Uther was talking them round one by one, playing on the rumors and reports, on their prejudices and their past experiences with magic gone awry, on their inevitable fear of the unknown, because aside from Aurelius, the court sorcerer, Gaius was the only one on the council who had magic and was therefore the only one who truly understood it. And while Gorlois spoke to those same lords afterwards — as did Aurelius — he gave no sign as to whether he had gotten through to them either.

And then Tristan DuBois happened, Tristan who had finally ridden out from Archenfield to challenge Uther over his sister's death. Agravaine had since departed to fill the void his brother had left at home, but Gaius also suspected that Agravaine had known what was about to happen and fled to avoid the association with sorcery, because few could forget the image of Tristan confronting the king, eyes blazing gold as he called out Uther's guilt for all to hear. It was sheer luck that Uther survived, though his shoulder would never be the same again; he had refused to allow Alice to treat it with magic, which she had offered to do quite hesitantly, and so the wound would pain him for the rest of his life.

Gaius tried to explain this to Uther while he cleaned the wound, but Uther was busy watching Alice leave with poorly concealed suspicion and did not seem to hear him. "You should be careful of her," Uther said.

"And you should have let her heal you," Gaius said sharply. "Julius, bring me that comfrey and thyme poultice. And a bandage."

"I will not let that foul craft near me," snapped Uther as the lad moved to the shelves. "If it means that I must live in pain to avoid it — well, if only I'd learned that lesson before Ygraine." He flinched as Gaius prodded the wound, though his expression did not become any less resolute; however, after a moment in which Gaius said nothing, his face softened and he said, "I'm... concerned about you, being alone with her here. Magic corrupts, Gaius."

Power corrupts, Gaius wanted to correct, but instead he thanked Julius quietly before answering, "Alice would not harm me. She wouldn't harm anyone. She's one of the best healers in the Five Kingdoms."

Uther looked at him almost pityingly. "You are still blinded, I see. Your love for her will not allow you to see that the evil of magic steals into the hearts of even those we trust the most, even the best of friends." And Gaius knew that they were not just speaking of Alice — not even just of Nimueh, anymore.

"Do not listen to Tristan, my lord," he said soothingly, spreading the ointment thickly on the wound. "He was merely a grieving brother; he did not know what he was saying."

"And I am a grieving husband," Uther said, with all the weight of that grief in his voice. "Could we not have grieved together? Instead he blames me — me — for Ygraine's — as if I'd ever—"

"No one is to blame for Ygraine's death, my lord," said Gaius, but Uther was already shaking his head.

"Magic killed her, Gaius. Magic, and Nimueh's own evil. You explained that to me already."

And here it was — an opportunity to bring the king round to reason again. "My lord," Gaius said, pausing with the bandage half wrapped around Uther's arm. "My lord, please, you must listen to me—"

"Continue, Gaius," Uther said, and although he spoke of the bandage, he did not stop Gaius when he kept talking.

"You misinterpreted me earlier," Gaius explained. "I did not mean — I did not mean to imply that magic took Ygraine's life out of some sort of... malevolence, or — or ill intent. Magic took Ygraine because it was her time, because the gods decided that it was so. Not — not to cause grief, or to harm you. Magic has no hidden motives, good or otherwise. It shapes the earth, shapes our lives in ways we cannot see or understand, in the way that the wind shapes the clouds in the sky and the river shapes its bed. It isn't human, sire. It simply... is."

And he couldn't explain it any better than that; he couldn't explain how there was a ribbon of magic that wove through every living thing, keeping it alive and interconnected. He himself was not powerful enough to see that ribbon for more than a few seconds when he cast a spell, but he had read — oh, he had read the works of sorcerers who could see it glowing wherever they looked. But Uther had not even the slightest hint of the gift within him, and he was too hard a man for stories like that, so Gaius left his explanation where it was and tied off Uther's bandage in silence.

"Not human, you say?" Uther repeated, wincing as he tried to rotate his arm.

Gaius stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "No — no, it is not. It's a force unto itself, like — like the weather, only so much more. It's—"

"Not human," Uther mused. "That makes it so much easier."

And to Gaius it seemed as though his insides had been scooped out, so hollow did he feel. "Sire—"

"Thank you, Gaius," Uther said as he stood from Gaius' bench, just as he had said the last time he had heard what he wanted from Gaius' words. Behind him, Julius' mouth was hanging open as he stared at his king in disbelief; and Gaius could only look at him in abject horror because he had only been trying to help, had only been trying to prevent Uther from doing something truly terrible, but there was no preventing the inevitable, and by trying to do so he had only made it worse.

"If you support me, I will protect you," Uther said suddenly, and he was looking at Gaius so earnestly that Gaius wanted to cry because this side of the king was so buried beneath grief that it rarely saw the light of day, and this, this was why he loved his king in the first place. "You — you have been a good friend to me over the years, and — it would grieve me to see you harmed." And then his expression hardened once more and he took a menacing step forward. "But know this, physician. It would grieve me more to see you corrupted. If you cross me — I will not allow my son, or my people, to come to harm."

He stepped away again. "Think on it, Gaius," he said, and closed the door behind him.

- - o- -

Uther was not one to pass up an opportunity, and he twisted his recent injury to his best advantage. All it took was a whisper of Nimueh's name, and it soon became common knowledge that Tristan had been taken in by her, that his attack had been fueled by the corruption of magic and a result of Nimueh's urging, and that he was so confident in his return because he had already arranged with her to raise him up. And thus it was that three months after the queen's death, Sir Cador rose to his feet and declared, "The register is not working."

Murmurs of assent rippled around the table as Uther sat by impassively, and Gaius was somehow not surprised to see that there were only two others who did not join in, even if some of them did so reluctantly. Aurelius looked as if he were about to be sick, and Gaius did not blame him, because while Uther may have had some affection for him, there had never been any particular fondness between the king and the court sorcerer. And Gorlois looked on sadly, as if he had somehow failed them all, despite all his efforts.

"Only last week, magic showed itself to be a direct threat to our king," Cador continued. "Tristan DuBois was corrupted and twisted by his magic, leading him to turn on his friend and brother. And in the months since Ygraine's death, those with magic have shown their true colors — clearly evidenced here." He gestured to a pile of papers in front of him: the accumulated reports of magic that had been the subject of so much discussion recently. "They have declared war on us," he continued, and Gaius' memory flashed to Tommen Acker's honest face, pleading that he only needed the money. "And it is time that we fight back."

Again, all but three nodded their assent, and then Cador bowed as Uther suddenly rose to his feet.

"Some of you are reluctant, I see," said Uther. "I understand — you have friends, relatives even, who have magic, and surely they do not mean us any harm. I understand. I once thought the same. But remember how Nimueh took us all for fools — she did not show any hint of the evil that she committed. No, she smiled and danced and wormed her way into our hearts — and then she murdered the queen, and probably would have taken my son as well, if there hadn't been witnesses." Uther bowed slightly to Gaius, who couldn't breathe.

"I tell you now that even if your friends seem harmless now — it is only a matter of time before they fall prey to the disease that is magic. Because it is a disease, a corruption of the worst sort, that can turn even the best of souls to evil. Look at Nimueh. Look at Tristan. Look at those reports — they speak of sorcerers turning on them for no other reason but the fact that they had magic and their friends did not."

Someone had to stop this. Someone had to — but Gaius was rooted to his chair with terror and Gorlois was staring down at the table in front of him, stony-faced, and Aurelius was weeping silently, and there was no one else who would speak up for them.

"I have spoken to one who is an expert on this matter," said Uther, and although he mercifully did not turn to look at him, Gaius still felt as though he had been stabbed in the gut. "And he has assured me that those with magic are not human." And Gaius could do nothing as Aurelius let out a terrible cry, and Uther pressed on. "The magic sucks it out of them bit by bit, until finally there is nothing left within them to fight the urge to kill. Sorcerers are nothing more than empty shells, filled with—"

"You're wrong," Aurelius gasped out, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You're wrong, you're — we're human, just like the rest of you, we're — you don't know what you're doing. Sire, please, please — we're human, we're—"

"Silence, sorcerer!" Uther thundered, and Aurelius sobbed again. "I will not be spoken to like that, especially from one like you!"

Then he motioned the guards forward and nobody did anything to stop them as they dragged Aurelius out of the room, and they could hear him weeping piteously down the hallway even after the heavy doors closed behind him.

"Would anyone like to join him?" Uther said levelly, and when this was met with silence he smiled. "Good. Now, in the light of all of the evidence, you can see that the register is not enough. I propose a full ban on magic, effective immediately—" This provoked a round of mutters around the table, but Uther soothed them down by saying, "In a matter as important as this I should like to have the support of my council, and so I would know your minds. We will put it to a vote. Geoffrey?"

And Geoffrey produced a sheet of parchment marked 'yea' and 'nay,' and started by signing under 'yea' with a trembling hand. He handed it off to Lord Godwyn, then Lord Eldridge, and it went all around the table until it reached Gaius, and he saw that in the space marked for dissents there was only one name, Gorlois — but he was safe, because he was the king's best friend, and Uther knew that he did not have magic. But Gaius — Gaius had a chance at life, at being spared from this horror, because Uther had promised to protect him, and — and if it was inevitable anyway, why not save his own life, so that he could work to prevent future measures? It was not as if his dissent would change anything, aside from adding an execution to the list.

And so Gaius tremblingly signed his name 'yea,' and handed it off to the lord on his left.

The parchment finally made its way back to Uther, who scanned the list of names quickly. His eyes flicked up to meet Gaius', and he nodded once with approval, twisting the knife in deeper, before smiling broadly. "It is decided then, my lords," he announced. "Congratulations. You have prevented a great evil from spreading." He folded over the votes and turned to the court historian. "Draw up an announcement, Geoffrey, and mark it down in your annals. It begins today."

And Gaius looked at the way Uther smiled in delight at this tragedy, and felt his heart tear in two.