Uther was not a just ruler when it came to magic. Nor would he ever be, not after losing his wife to magic. He closed his heart and let his hatred flow freely, be it a man, woman or child who suffered a gruesome fate.

He'd just ordered a young warlock who was presenting signs of magic to be executed. He felt regret, but no remorse.

You had other ideas. You were loving, warm and vibrant. His... well, he didn't quite know what you were to him. As you were around his son's age, he knew better than to actually parade you about.

He exhaled. "No. I will not spare that traitor." His tone was firm and cold.