No one else to find (4/6)
Part Four
It's just over a year before Arthur sees Merlin again.
In the preceding months, Uther finally ups his game. He picks a few of his most vocal allies at the church, and starts with small protests and leafleting, offering, he says, with a meaningful look at Arthur, a Christian alternative to deviant lifestyles. It's mainly Pride events he's singling out, with a few businesses and charities whose principles don't fit with his, thrown in for good measure.
The placards and leaflets turn Arthur's stomach, and at first - still seething with impotent, directionless anger over Gaius - he declines Uther's invitation to join them. It's only when he looks at the list of events, and sees that they're targeting locations on the south coast, he senses an opportunity and summons up the courage to tell Uther he'll be joining them.
Merlin is standing in the middle of it all, surrounded by a small group of friends. Arthur's heart catches in his throat when he sees him. He's even more striking than Arthur remembers him, laughing and joking. When he catches sight of Arthur he stops dead still, shocked, then almost heartbreakingly happy.
An instant later, he sees that Arthur is there handing out leaflets with a group of anti-gay protesters. His face crumbles into hurt and disappointment as he turns and walks blindly back into the crowd.
Arthur's heart is pounding so hard in his chest that he's sure there's a good chance he'll vomit on the spot if he doesn't get it together. He reminds himself that this - him being there - is just a means to an end, and the fact that he's even seen Merlin means that its going very well so far. The irony that this is the only chance he has to get himself anywhere near Merlin without attracting Uther's suspicion isn't lost on him, but his intentions don't quite cancel out how it makes him feel about himself.
There's a surge in the crowd, and Arthur pitches himself into it, allowing himself to be pulled further away from Uther, Reverend Aredian and the others. He away slips easily and tries to follow the path that Merlin took. It's there that his plan breaks down. He looks and looks, moving through lines of people, his search becoming more and more desperate. Finally, the crowd thins out and, not knowing where he is, let alone where he's going, he turns a corner and finds himself in a narrow, deserted alleyway. It's quiet enough to feel a thousand miles away from the bustle and noise of moments before. He sits down on a wide, overturned crate, and lets his head sink into his hands.
This, he groans to himself, was possibly the most stupid idea I have ever had.
There are footsteps somewhere off to his left. He looks up, half expecting Uther to have tracked him down. He gasps when he sees the figure standing there. Transformed into a tense, angry silhouette by the meagre light streaming behind him, he's still unmistakeably Merlin.
'Merlin,' Arthur says, jumping to his feet, his chest pounding, not quite believing they're face to face again. 'Merlin, that wasn't what it looked like.'
'What the fuck, Arthur?' Merlin says, backing away. 'I don't see you for a year, and then this? I've been banned from going anywhere near you. I've thought about you every minute of every day. I've been worried sick, and this, this is what you've turned into? Fuck,' he says. 'I can't believe you'd do this, after everything.'
Arthur grabs his arm and they struggle as Merlin tries to pull away. 'Please. I just had to get here. I thought ... it doesn't matter what I thought. Just listen, I can explain.'
Merlin still looks furious, but he stops fighting him. He looks pointedly at Arthur's hand on his arm, but he doesn't ask him to remove it. 'Fine,' he says. 'Explain then. I don't think today can get any worse now, anyway.'
'And you really thought that protesting at something I was there to celebrate was the best way of running into me?' Merlin says, from beside him on the crate, the anger in his voice replaced by something Arthur can't quite put his finger on.
'Yes?' says Arthur, spreading his hands helplessly. It sounds ridiculous now. It would be ridiculous had it happened anywhere outside of his strange, restrictive life.
He pulls his coat closer around him and wonders if Merlin is going to shout or try to walk away again. Instead he hears a strange choking sound and realises Merlin's trying not to laugh.
'You do know you're completely mad, don't you, Arthur Pendragon?' Merlin says, laying his head on his shoulder, and Arthur makes a sound that could almost be laughter, too.
'Well, I found you, didn't I?' he says, feeling a little defensive: 'There was a possibility you'd be there, and I could hardly come up with any other reason to be in the same place.'
'No,' Merlin says, after a few moments consideration, 'but then again, I don’t have to hide who I am.' He slips an arm around Arthur, and lands a kiss, brief and tentative, on the corner of his mouth. 'Bit of a fucking long shot though. Couldn't you have just phoned like normal people?'
'This was the only way,' Arthur says. He's forgotten Merlin doesn't know about the year he's had. 'Uther packed me straight off to some fucking brainwashing camp and left me there until I convinced them I wasn't gay. But that wasn't all. He's watched me ever since. It's been hell,' he says acknowledging for the first time, as he says the words out loud, how bad things really are. 'I can't do anything without his permission now for fear someone will corrupt me. Phonecalls, internet, seeing friends, going out by myself: it's all down to him.' Arthur presses his lips together and takes a deep breath to calm himself.
For a second, Merlin looks stunned. 'That sounds ... fucking terrible,' he says. 'I'm so sorry. I thought you were here because you blamed me for what happened. I had no idea.'
'How would you have known?' Arthur says, taking Merlin's hand, and for some reason - maybe relief that Merlin's there, maybe guilt for what Merlin might have thought of him these past months - that action make him want to dissolve into tears.
Merlin shifts so he's facing Arthur and, seeming to understand that's he's just about to lose it, pulls him into a tight hug.
'You're here now,' Merlin says, a quiet murmur against his neck. When he starts to kiss his neck, Arthur has to stifle a groan, because he can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.
'You look, um, well,' Merlin says when they pull back. He's a little glassy eyed and there's a smile playing on his lips. 'Really well.' He reaches up to stroke Arthur's cheek, his hand lingering even after his fingers have stopped tracing over his skin.
'From the looks you were getting, you don't seem to be short of attention,' Arthur says, and it's true, Merlin looks better than anything his memory could conjure up.
'I'm not really interested,' Merlin says.
Arthur chooses not to speculate on how conditional that really might be. It's hardly fair for him to object to something he can't compete with, but even so, it's something of a relief when Merlin pulls him closer and, with a questioning lift of his eyebrows, brushes their lips together and then leans into him.
'What now?' Merlin says, into the lapel of Arthur's coat. 'I don't suppose you can go and hand out leaflets at everything I go to, can you?'
'After what I saw today,' Arthur says, 'I don't want to. There must be a way. Just give me time. I don't know what to do right now, but I will.'
'Alright,' Merlin says. Arthur has no idea if he believes him or not. He's not sure, himself, if his good intentions will come to anything. But whilst he still can't quite go against his father yet - the thought of losing Uther's love is still too much like a black hole opening up in front of him - the part of him that's just as determined not to lose Merlin has surfaced again, stronger than it's ever been.
They talk for a while about small, inconsequential things. Merlin tells him about the courses he's applied for and the places he's been offered. His mum is getting better each day, and Gaius lives with them now which is, Merlin says, with a raised an eyebrow that's equally fond and exasperated, a mixed blessing.
Arthur tells Merlin about University, how tedious the trips up and down to London each day are, how he hopes that he'll do well enough to strike out by himself once he's finished. He tells Merlin which campus he attends and Merlin laughs, saying he nearly applied to the same place.
'Imagine Uther's face if you had,' Arthur says.
'You'd have had the quickest transfer in the history of higher education,' Merlin says, and Arthur laughs, because it's funny, in a fucked up way, that when Uther's involved, no one ever gets what they want.
He tells him how he sees much more of Morgana these days, particularly now she's enrolled on the same course as him.
'A bit too much, to be honest,' he says. 'She's in all my classes except for when she sneaks off early on Wednesday afternoons. I've no idea what she's doing, but she always makes it to the train on time.'
'Wednesday afternoons?' Merlin muses, 'I'm free on Wednesdays,' and they grin at each other stupidly, and, well, it's a start.
'There's something else,' Merlin says. He's nervous, his foot tapping a rapid beat on the ground. 'I thought you might know, but you haven't mentioned it, so ...'
'I know about Gaius,' Arthur says. 'I overheard Uther and Reverend Aredian.'
Merlin frowns. 'I'm not talking about Gaius,' he says.
'What, then?' Arthur says, thinking for a heartstopping moment that Merlin might be sick, or leaving the country, or some unnameable thing that was even worse. 'Tell me.'
'It was Morgana who told Uther to come back that night,' Merlin says, his words coming out in a rush. 'He came over the morning after he caught us. Well, before dawn really. Gaius made me stay in my room, but I heard them arguing. Uther said he only came back because she'd told him she thought you were going to some non-existent fucking leaving party for me, without his permission. He told Gaius that he'd ruin him if he didn't take me and get the fuck out of the village.'
'Morgana?' Arthur says, stunned.
Merlin spreads his hands in mute apology for something that isn't his fault. 'Just be careful of her, alright?' he says. 'I don't know what she wants, but I don't think you can trust her.'
'Fuck,' says Arthur, thinking back on how it always feels like Morgana is watching him for something. He'd written it off as another of her odd traits a long time ago, but now he wonders - along with her decision to take the same course as him - how much of it is Uther's doing.
Arthur takes his phone out of his pocket to check it; he has fourteen missed calls.
'Shit,' he says. 'Uther'll have the police out looking for me if I don't head back soon.' He gets to his feet. Merlin stands up with him and loops his slim arms around Arthur's waist.
'Okay,' Merlin says. Arthur can tell he's trying to swallow back disappointment. With one hand still around Arthur's waist, he reaches up and slowly threads his fingers through Arthur's hair, and suddenly Arthur's very aware of how well aligned their hips are, and presses closer. Merlin responds with a tense half-smile, his eyes poring over every inch of him, like he's never going to see enough. Arthur's never felt so scrutinised before, but instead of feeling strange or uncomfortable, he likes it. It's like another point of contact, and he can't remember the last time he's held anyone else for so close, or so long.
'Sorry,' Arthur says, not sure how he's going to drag himself away when the time comes. 'I wish we had longer.'
'So, about Wednesdays. Maybe I could ...' Merlin trails off, and gives Arthur a tentative look.
'You can't be suggesting what I think you're suggesting,' Arthur says, though part of him hopes he's right.
'And what's that?' Merlin smiles.
'That you come to my campus on the off chance I can get away?'
'That's exactly what I'm suggesting. You're free. I'm free. What's the problem?'
'Don't put your life on hold for me,' Arthur says, quickly, before he can take it back. 'It's not fair on you. What if Uther finds out? Last time he said he get you kicked out of your house.'
Merlin's kisses him. It's soft at first, but it soon deepens, becoming desperate and needy and not enough. When they move apart Merlin laughs, just lightly enough to take the bitter edge off of it, and looks away, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.
'What is it?' Arthur asks.
'I should have stood up to him,' Merlin says. 'I let my fear of him take over. I convinced myself it was the best for you, and my mum, and Gaius, but I was wrong. I've regretted it every day since. I should have gone back; I should have done something.'
'Merlin,' Arthur says, 'it's not your fault that things are like this. I don't want to make things difficult for you.'
'You said you needed time,' Merlin says, pulling him closer again. 'I'll give you time. As much as you need. Just let me decide what's fair on me, okay?'
Arthur nods, and ignores the phone in his pocket, which has started up its buzzing again. He feels lightheaded, elated, almost. It takes a moment to remember this is the heady feeling he always gets when he's with Merlin. 'Okay,' he says, because he's missed this for too long.
Merlin writes down his number and hands it to him.
'I can't take this,' Arthur says, handing it back. 'I'll remember it.'
Merlin looks at him, sceptical, until Arthur repeats it back to him three times.
'Impressive,' says Merlin. He hands another piece of paper to Arthur. 'What about this, then?' he asks, a grin spreading over his face.
Arthur looks at it. He feels something dangerous flare up within him as he grins back. 'Okay,' he says, and when Merlin kisses him again, goodbye, he doesn't feel as heartbroken as he thought he would be, because this is just until next time, and everything it's taken to get here has been worth it.
Later that night, when Arthur's back in his bedroom, he tries to remember everything about the time he and Merlin spent together.
What he mainly remembers is how they'd talked. It had started off slowly, almost a struggle to remember details. After a while it had speeded up, and their words had been rapid, knowing they only had minutes to cover nearly a year, and they'd moved closer and closer until finally, they'd been whispering into each other's skin.
Just before he gets into bed, he unfolds the scrap of paper Merlin gave him and looks at the blank sheet.
He smiles. He's not sure, exactly, what Merlin meant when he gave it to him, but he knows what it means to him: the future is theirs to decide.
As he drifts off to sleep, he can still feel Merlin's whispered words on him.
With one thing and another, it's not every Wednesday, but they manage at least every three or four weeks. It's not perfect by any means, but it kind of works, and neither of them are in any doubt about how lucky they are to have this at all.
The first time, it's just an hour. Arthur's wary and tense, but so excited that he can hardly remember how to get to the bar that he's selected purely on the grounds that it's close by and practically deserted in the afternoons. For the first half hour he's so twitchy he can barely concentrate; for the last, he wants so badly to stretch every minute out as long as he can, that he hardly manages to say anything at all.
When the weather starts to get warmer, he finds a park a little further from campus where they can walk or sit or, which is what generally happens, lie back on the grass, out of view of most passersby. Even though he needs to leave earlier to make the train, it's worth it if he can make a mess of Merlin's hair and pick blades of grass out of it afterwards. After that, the evenings are a write off. It's difficult to get stuck into course reading with the still-fresh memories of Merlin's skin, all heat and sunscreen, and how his fingers play lightly on the belt loops of Arthur's jeans before slipping lightly under the heavy fabric, almost like it's a challenge to stop him. Arthur finds he very rarely does.
The summer break is hard; more than two months when the only contact Arthur has is through whatever Elena or Gwaine or Percival happen to mention in passing. Elena still, occasionally, asks him if he has a message she can pass on to Merlin when she next sees him. A few times he almost relents, but he's too nervous of doing anything to compromise the precious, painstaking progress they've started to make. He does, however, make sure to mention how he's doing, what classes he's signed up to for the following year, and when he thinks his study periods will be.
If Elena smiles when he goes into this much detail about his life, then he pretends he doesn't notice.
He's warier of Morgana now, but ever mindful to keep to the thin line between keeping her out of his business, and not arousing her suspicion that he's onto her. Now he knows, he finds her actions confusing more than hurtful; he can see why she might not like him, but what she did seems over and above just simple dislike. Sometimes, when she joins him and Uther for their weekly meal together, he finds himself staring at her, as if the slopes and angles of her face will give away what's going on in her head.
The answer, when he finds it, is as shocking as anything he could have imagined.
One of Uther's many security measures, after Arthur's return from counselling, was to keep his bedroom window locked despite their housekeeper's dark mutterings about fires and suffocation.
For the most part, Arthur doesn't mind. Relatively speaking, it's minor in the scheme of things that have changed. It's only when, during a particularly hot summer spell, the air inside the house becomes so stifling that he picks the lock. It's a relief to have the window open, just a crack. It's just as well that's enough; any wider, and it would be visible from the patio below.
It's on one of these unbearably hot, sticky summer evenings that Arthur turns in early for bed. He normally stays downstairs for longer, but it's a Wednesday and he misses Merlin the most on these days. His usual tactic is to go to sleep as early as he can to avoid excessive brooding, but tonight he's finding it hard even to get drowsy.
It's no good, he thinks. He gets up and pushes the window open half an inch. After a few minutes of letting the cool air wash over him, he heads for the shower. He's almost under the spray when he remembers that he's left his towel in the bedroom. As he grabs it from the corner where he threw it that morning, he hears voices from the patio below. To his surprise, its Godywn and his father. He pauses. It's early for Godwyn to visit - only eight o'clock - and more unusual still for Uther to be home.
'I'm sorry, Uther,' Godwyn says, 'but there's no way it'll ever happen with Arthur and my Elena. She's adamant.'
'I see,' says Uther. 'And he told you this herself, did she?'
Arthur can hear the rising anger in his voice. He pauses and moves closer to the window. Although he and Elena are under no illusions about what they mean to each other, he's surprised she's shared any of this with her father.
'She did. It was my fault, actually,' says Godwyn, and although Arthur can't see him, he can imagine the look that Uther's giving him right now. 'I made some comment about how your Arthur ought to hurry up and make it official. It was only half a joke, really, but then she said, out of the blue, that she wished he meant more to her, but she couldn't marry someone she didn't love.' Godwyn lets out a short, nervous laugh. 'That's not the sort of thing you can argue with.'
'And you believe her?' says Uther. 'What does any girl as young as Elena know about a good marriage? She and Arthur are perfectly suited. We've been over this a hundred times: it will strengthen both our families' position in the village, and when Arthur takes over the business, he'll have a good, morally upstanding woman to take care of him.'
'That may have been true, a long time ago,' says Godwyn. 'I'm not so sure it stands now.'
'Speak to her,' Uther barks at him. 'End this nonsense. You know what's right for her. She's your daughter; she should respect your wishes over her own.'
Moments later, cigar smoke floats up into his room, and Arthur has to put his hand over his mouth to avoid gagging and giving himself away.
'That's the thing, though,' says Godwyn. 'I'm not sure I want her to respect my wishes over hers, not if it'll make her unhappy. Not,' he clarifies hastily, 'that I believe any wrong of Arthur, but still, the decision is hers.'
'Tell me,' Uther says, 'has my son had anything to do with this change of heart? Did he tell her anything, act in a certain way, perhaps, that made her think he was unsuitable for marriage?'
There's a long, terrifying pause, and Arthur starts to wonder if Elena has picked up on more than he thinks she has. He racks his brains for what he might have said, or implied about Merlin. He trusts her, but then again, Morgana's shown him what a shallow thing that can be.
'Nothing at all,' says Godwyn. 'She was at pains to make that much clear, at least. As for what else goes on in that girl's head sometimes, your guess is as good as mine.'
Uther grunts in apparent acceptance of Godwyn's explanation and they turn to talk of the golf club and the stables, until Uther mutters something about how the Pendragon dynasty will continue despite this setback. There's silence for a few minutes, then Godwyn clears his throat nervously.
'What about Morgana?' he asks, and Arthur's jaw drops at the suggestion.
'What about Morgana?' Uther snaps.
'Well, perhaps she and Arthur ...?'
'Out of the question,' Uther says.
'Why?' says Godwyn. 'I've always wondered why you haven't considered her. She and Arthur are perfectly suited: they're the same age, and they've known each other longer than he's known Elena. There was the business with her mother of course, but still ...'
'And that is exactly why I can't consider it,' Uther says. 'There are people here who remember Mrs Le Fay and how she conducted herself.'
'But no one knows the details,' says Godwyn, 'just you and I, and as for Mrs Le Fay, she dropped her threat to pursue a paternity suit as soon as you paid her off. She's been silent as the grave since.'
'And so she should be,' Uther growls. 'She made enough money out of her preposterous claims. I would never have considered it, but it was so soon after Igraine's death that I couldn't afford a scandal.'
'Really, Uther,' says Godwyn, 'I can't see a problem. There was no paternity test, and everyone who can remember, will only recollect how erratic she was. She was so fixated on you that she left her husband before Morgana was born.'
'The woman was a disgrace,' Uther says.
'Maybe so,' says Godwyn, 'but it's all forgotten about now. If Arthur and Morgana were to marry, then it would be a fitting end to the rift between the two families. Igraine was always so close to Mrs Le Fay; if I remember correctly, you were too. '
'It will never happen,' Uther says, his tone final.
'Ah well,' says Godwyn, in his best Well, you can't say I didn't try voice, and the conversation turns back to other things.
Arthur pushes his window shut and throws himself back on his bed, landing with a thump.
It's pretty clear what's just been implied, as is Uther's denial but - and not that he would ever want anything to do with Morgana like that - Uther's reluctance to even consider it seems at odds with his determination to continue the Pendragon line. His anger over Elena is proof enough of that.
Arthur rubs a hand over his eyes. There are other things, too, about the Le Fays, that don't feel right. The most pressing is that Uther has never, in his entire life, paid anyone off. Threatened them, yes; ruined them, maybe; destroyed them ... Arthur's willing to bet that's happened too. But he's never thrown money at a problem to make it go away. It's just not his style. It's the sort of thing Arthur could only imagine him doing if he wanted to make absolutely certain that things would never backfire. And for him to be so worried in the first place ...
His mind drifts to Uther's growing soft spot for Morgana, and how their personalities - their ruthlessness and single mindedness in particular - seem to mirror one other. Lastly, there is the fact that throughout the conversation with Godwyn, Uther never denied, outright, that he was Morgana's father, despite there apparently being no proof.
Arthur lets out a low, shaky breath. He has no proof either, but there's no doubt in his mind now that Morgana is Uther's daughter. His half-sister. The only part of this that's unclear in his mind now is whether Morgana knows about it.
That Friday, Morgana joins them for dinner, as she's been doing more and more frequently. Uther dominates the conversation, shooting questions at the pair of them about their course, what the other students are like, tutting in disapproval when he hears something he doesn't like. Arthur lets Morgana talk - she never passes up an opportunity to try to match her views to Uther's - and glances at them both, deep in conversation over the student body's plans for the next year.
'You should get involved in student politics, Morgana,' says Uther. 'Try to block some of their so-called diversity measures. It's disgraceful, forcing moral decay on young people the way they do. They should have the choice to say no to what's foisted on them.'
Morgana smiles and nods. 'What do you think, Arthur?'
'I certainly wouldn't want to be up against you in a debate,' Arthur says, and though Morgana laughs it off, he sees the hungry look that flickers across her face, as she takes his small concession as a victory. In that moment, she's so like Uther that he can't help but push things a little further.
'Seriously, father,' Arthur says, keeping a careful eye on Morgana, 'sometimes it's like she's the daughter you never had.'
Morgana schools her expression well, but not quite well enough. It's only for a fraction of a second, but just after the words leave Arthur's mouth she glances over at Uther, her face transformed by a look so expectant it borders on anguish.
'You'd better start honing your debating skills then, son,' says Uther. 'Can't let our side down, eh?'
Arthur gives them both a non-committal smile and returns to his meal, but he doesn't miss the darker look that crosses Morgana's face as Uther fails to acknowledges her in his response.
She knows, Arthur thinks. He's not sure whether to feel angry with her, or sorry for her. He doesn't suppose it matters: either way, her actions make a lot more sense now.
It's fair to say that by the time the Autumn term comes around, Arthur is more excited than most.
He's not really expecting to see Merlin on his first week back, and after he's finished his last Wednesday class and waited for Morgana to make her excuses, he heads outside to eat his sandwiches, having pretty much resigned himself to an afternoon of actual study.
'Hey,' says a voice just behind him, indistinct amongst the background murmur of students walking in and out of the building.
Arthur turns. It's Merlin, wearing an oversized baseball cap which he probably thinks hides his face. It doesn't really.
'Fuck Merlin, Morgana's only just left,' says Arthur, and though his nerves have taken a bad hit, he's can no more stop the grin that's spreading across his face than he can the warm feeling that's radiating out from the centre of his chest. It's been far, far too long.
'I know, I know,' says Merlin. 'I waited over there till she went,' he gestures to a set of benches a little way down the road, 'what do you reckon she's up to, anyway?'
'Don't care,' Arthur says, relieved that he can feel his heart rate slowing. Well, a fraction anyway. 'Come on, let's get out of here.'
'Where are you studying?' he asks, when they stop for a coffee. He knows Merlin's been offered places at two London universities, but has no idea where he's ended up.
Merlin looks down at his fingers. 'I'm not,' he says and then, when Arthur starts to frown, 'no, no, my results were fine. I just wanted to work for a year, get some money together. It's bar work mainly, but the pay's alright.'
'Oh,' says Arthur. 'So you're not in London, then?'
Merlin grins. 'Actually, yes I am,' he says. 'I've got a house share. It's bloody miles away and my rooms tiny, but I thought being here might make things, well, easier.'
'Merlin,' Arthur says, who knows full well that paying London rent would pretty much cancel out getting any sort of money together, 'you shouldn't be chucking your career away because of me.'
Merlin looks away, kicking at the floor with his heels. When he meets Arthur's eyes, there's something a little defiant there, like he knew all along that Arthur wouldn't be happy with this, but he's gone ahead and done it regardless. 'It won't work any other way,' Merlin says. 'You know as well as I do. And it's just for a year. Next year, I'll be studying whatever happens, I promise.'
Arthur doesn't know quite what to say to that. Although Merlin has a point, it still feels like a slap in the face. If he'd been able to offer him anything resembling a normal relationship, it's a decision that would never have crossed his mind.
'Arthur,' Merlin's fingers brush his arm. 'It was just ... I missed you so much this summer. The number of times I nearly called the others and made some excuse to visit, just so I'd catch a glimpse of you.'
I wish you had, Arthur thinks. He says: 'I missed you too; a stupid, stupid amount.'
'Thing is, if Uther found out, he'd've found some way to make you pay for it. When I heard Elena say you were free the same afternoon this year - how did you manage that by the way? - I just couldn't take the chance that there'd be a clash. It would have been too hard. It's not perfect, but for now, it's how I want to do it, okay?'
From under the table, Arthur feels Merlin's hand sneak over the top of his thigh and, after a moment's consideration, lets his hand move over too, until their fingers are loosely entwined. Up until now, he's never really seen what effect all of this is having on Merlin. He's always imagined that he does the majority of the pining and the longing, but now he sees the nervous, but still determined look in Merlin's eyes, he comes face to face with the fact that he's not the only one.
'Fine,' he says, tightening his fingers around Merlin's. 'No, actually, it's more than fine. Thank you. But don't you dare pull this shit again.'
'Wouldn't dream of it,' says Merlin, who doesn't look a bit contrite. He shoots a quick look around the cafe and when he judges it just deserted enough, he plants a brief kiss on Arthur's lips. 'And who knows where we'll be in a year, anyway?'
Uther lets the issue of the continuation of the Pendragon line rest for longer than Arthur expects him to, but inevitably, it comes up again.
'The Castlefords are coming for dinner this Saturday,' he tells Arthur. 'Make sure you're presentable; they're bringing their daughter.'
Arthur nods and braces himself for the talk about good blood, suitability and morality. Uther refers to Vivian, the daughter, in glowing terms, though privately, given he describes her as giddy Arthur doubts his father has seen her since she was a little girl.
'But you'd be a calming influence,' Uther says. 'She's very pretty; it's a wonder no one's snapped her up already.'
'Hang on,' says Arthur, who's starting to feel like a horse at a market. 'I thought it was just dinner.'
Uther raises an eyebrow in the slow, aggressive way that he's grown to dread. He can almost hear the tension crackle around them. 'And I,' Uther says, 'thought that you were serious about proving yourself to me after your problems last year. Was I misled?'
Arthur swallows. It would be so easy to back down over this, to agree to a couple of dates and let things fizzle out, but with Merlin in the equation it just doesn't seem right. Merlin, he's pretty sure, would understand, but a bit like the year out he's taken, Arthur doesn't see why he should have to put up with it and this, at least, is a situation he can do something about.
'Father,' he says, relieved that his voice doesn't sound as shaky as he feels. 'I promised I wouldn’t engage in any immoral behaviour, and I haven’t. Other than that, I'm not making any promises.'
Uther narrow his eyes and the long, appraising look he gives him makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a second, he thinks he's gone too far, and Uther's going to lay down the law with the sort of force that Arthur, unfortunately, knows he's capable of.
'Interesting,' Uther says, the mockery in his voice heightened by the chilling smile that accompanies it, 'particularly since you expect me to take you at your word concerning your behaviour. We're eating at seven. I do hope that you are, at least, able to promise me that you'll be there to greet them.'
Arthur nods, relieved that's it for the moment. Of course, he knows that the part about immoral behaviour is a matter of perspective, but whilst he's aware that he's lying to his father, at least he's not lying to himself.
Even Uther admits that Vivian is unsuitable in pretty much every way. Arthur swears he can hear the discordant screech of her voice in his ears for hours after the Castlefords leave.
'What an obnoxious young woman,' Uther says. He pats Arthur on the shoulder and for a moment they laugh together just like he imagines other fathers and sons might do. It's a rare moment, the sort they hardly ever share, but it's over almost as soon as it begins, Uther's features snapping back from their momentary softness. 'Still,' he says, 'you need to be realistic with your expectations; I can't afford for you to jeopardise our family line through pickiness. There'll be someone else, I'm sure.'
I already have someone, Arthur thinks.
'You're a bit too understanding, Merlin,' Arthur says, when he mentions the Vivian debacle to him. 'I don't know when this parade of future wives is going to end, though my guess is that it'll be no time soon.'
'Not really,' Merlin says. 'I've been through this, remember. I'm sure if I was trying to learn ... I don't know ... football, or something, you'd be the one telling me what it's like. I just happen to know what it's like to come ---'
'I'm not coming out,' Arthur says. His reaction shocks him; it feels like someone's got a tight grip on his guts and they're twisting.
'Bloody hell, Arthur,' Merlin says, and elbows him in the teasing way he has that never fails to make things seem better. 'I was going to say come to terms with who you are. God, I'd never push you into a decision like that if you weren't ready.'
'Sorry,' Arthur says, hanging his head sheepishly. His apology feels selfish, because as reassuring as it is that Merlin won't put him under that sort of pressure, sorry isn't going to make any of this fair on Merlin, either.
The term passes quickly, and before long everyone's talking about Christmas. This year, Uther hands over the planning for the village New Year's party to him. Apparently the village council have agreed, but he has his doubts about that.
'Make sure it's an affair with traditional family values; it reflects on us,' he growls at Arthur. He doesn't wait for an answer, hopping into his car to visit more potential sponsors for a new project he's barely talked about.
Arthur's not expecting much interest, but he asks around after church anyway to see if anyone wants to help him organise things. It's not exactly the highlight of anyone's social calendar, but for years he's seen the way Uther's pushed the villagers around, so he doesn't see the harm in trying to come up with something that at least a few of them want.
Surprisingly, a lot of his friends do want to get involved. Unfortunately, Morgana is one of them, but between Gwaine and his tendency to mouth off over the slightest thing, and Elena's propensity for going off at a tangent at a moment's notice, she's fairly well suppressed.
'What do you think about promotions and things?' Arthur asks them, in late November. 'There were some leaflets promoting particular, erm, lifestyles, a few years back, and that attracted a bit of controversy.'
'What's this, Arthur?' Gwaine drawls, leaning back in his chair and running a lazy hand through his perfect hair. 'Your father still running the show here?'
'No,' says Arthur and notes, in passing, the glare that Morgana gives him. 'He's got certain views, and I don't think anyone's going to be surprised by what they are. I just want to know what you think about using the event as to promote something that might not appeal to everyone. We'll vote on it, and that'll be that.'
'Until your father finds out,' says someone.
Arthur looks up, missing who's just spoken. 'No,' he says again. 'The majority decision is the decision. It's final.'
There's a surprised and somewhat cynical silence, and Arthur doesn't know whether to feel pleased there's no further argument, or insulted that they have so little faith in him.
Fuck it, got to start somewhere, he thinks, and when there's a majority vote to keep the event neutral, he decides that on balance, he's pleased.
'So, exactly how mental did Uther go?' Merlin asks, breaking his chocolate reindeer in two and offering half to Arthur. It's the last week of term, it's snowing and they're freezing their arses off in the park, mainly because no one else is stupid enough to go there.
'It was pretty bad,' Arthur admits, though he misses out the part about the broken crockery, and the threats to ground him and take him out of school because clearly that's been corrupting him.
'Shit,' says Merlin. 'Has he calmed down yet?'
Arthur shrugs and brushes a snowflake out of Merlin's eyelashes. 'There's not much he can do about it,' he says, and Merlin rolls his eyes at his attempt to avoid the question. 'Luckily, Elena minuted everything and had it submitted to some committee or other the next day.' Arthur laughs. 'Apparently once there's a record of the decision he can't overrule it. Put it this way, though: he's unlikely to ask me to run it next year.'
'Maybe he'll give Morgana a shot,' says Merlin, one eyebrow raised; Arthur's shared his suspicions about her parentage with him some time ago.
'In that case, I don't think I'll even make the guest list,' Arthur says.
Merlin laughs, but then his expression turns serious. 'I'm proud of you for standing up to him,' he says, and he leans across to kiss him so softly he's barely there, until Arthur pulls him in, smiling into the kiss as he tastes the faintest hint of chocolate on Merlin's lips.
Arthur isn't that bothered about going out on New Year's Eve. Everything's organised, after all, but at the same time, he doesn't want Uther to think that he's that easily intimidated, so he pulls his suit on and heads down to the village hall anyway.
It's surprisingly bearable this year and, having convinced an only slightly unwilling Percival that he should drive him home as well as Gwaine, he has a few glasses of wine and even attempts to dance a couple of times.
'What're you doing?' he says to Elena. It's only ten-thirty, and she's already tapping away industriously on her phone.
'Just sending New Year's messages,' she shouts over the music. 'Nothing'll get through come midnight.'
'Very organised,' Arthur grins. 'Who are you bothering now?'
'Merlin,' she says. 'Want to wish him a Happy New Year?'
Arthur hesitates briefly, but the wine overrules the caution he might otherwise have exercised, and he says: 'Yeah, why not?'
The rest of the evening passes without a hitch, and just as they are leaving, Elena grabs his arm and pulls him back into the hallway.
'Got a reply,' she says, but just as she's opening the message, Morgana appears from nowhere and grabs her phone.
'What's this?' she says, holding it out of reach. 'Do you have a secret admirer, Elena?'
'Fuck off,' Elena says, grabbing at the air. Arthur holds his breath and stands dead still while Morgana dances around for a painfully long time, flicking triumphantly through Elena's messages before handing it back.
'Well, that was a bit of an anti-climax,' she says, and saunters off airily in search of someone else to pester.
Arthur is, by this point, ashen-faced.
'I can handle her,' Elena says, winking at him. 'She thinks I haven't noticed that she keeps tabs on me, but I'd be blind not to. Here's Merlin's reply, by the way. Don't worry,' she says, seeing Arthur's panicked expression, 'I know you're not supposed to be friends; he's been in my contacts as Gillian ever since the first time she sneaked my phone off me. She thinks I don't know about that either.'
Arthur takes the phone, wondering if Merlin knows what his number's stored as in Elena's phone. He still has no idea what else she's surmised about them but, that aside, it's kind of reassuring to know that at least one other person has picked up on how duplicitous Morgana can be.
'Stop looking as if the world's about to end,' she says, 'and take a look at what Gillian's got to say for himself.'
Arthur knows Merlin wouldn't have said anything that would put him in a difficult position, but he's a bit nervous as he opens the message up anyway. Then he smiles. It's fine. Really, it's more than fine.
Thanks E!! ; ) Can't think of a better start to the New Year, G xxx
Arthur's still grinning like an idiot when Elena taps him on the shoulder.
'I'll take you home,' she says, and inclines her head over to where Percival has thrown a kicking and swearing Gwaine over his shoulder, and is heading determinedly in the direction of the car park. 'I think someone's got their hands full.'
Part Five
It's just over a year before Arthur sees Merlin again.
In the preceding months, Uther finally ups his game. He picks a few of his most vocal allies at the church, and starts with small protests and leafleting, offering, he says, with a meaningful look at Arthur, a Christian alternative to deviant lifestyles. It's mainly Pride events he's singling out, with a few businesses and charities whose principles don't fit with his, thrown in for good measure.
The placards and leaflets turn Arthur's stomach, and at first - still seething with impotent, directionless anger over Gaius - he declines Uther's invitation to join them. It's only when he looks at the list of events, and sees that they're targeting locations on the south coast, he senses an opportunity and summons up the courage to tell Uther he'll be joining them.
Merlin is standing in the middle of it all, surrounded by a small group of friends. Arthur's heart catches in his throat when he sees him. He's even more striking than Arthur remembers him, laughing and joking. When he catches sight of Arthur he stops dead still, shocked, then almost heartbreakingly happy.
An instant later, he sees that Arthur is there handing out leaflets with a group of anti-gay protesters. His face crumbles into hurt and disappointment as he turns and walks blindly back into the crowd.
Arthur's heart is pounding so hard in his chest that he's sure there's a good chance he'll vomit on the spot if he doesn't get it together. He reminds himself that this - him being there - is just a means to an end, and the fact that he's even seen Merlin means that its going very well so far. The irony that this is the only chance he has to get himself anywhere near Merlin without attracting Uther's suspicion isn't lost on him, but his intentions don't quite cancel out how it makes him feel about himself.
There's a surge in the crowd, and Arthur pitches himself into it, allowing himself to be pulled further away from Uther, Reverend Aredian and the others. He away slips easily and tries to follow the path that Merlin took. It's there that his plan breaks down. He looks and looks, moving through lines of people, his search becoming more and more desperate. Finally, the crowd thins out and, not knowing where he is, let alone where he's going, he turns a corner and finds himself in a narrow, deserted alleyway. It's quiet enough to feel a thousand miles away from the bustle and noise of moments before. He sits down on a wide, overturned crate, and lets his head sink into his hands.
This, he groans to himself, was possibly the most stupid idea I have ever had.
There are footsteps somewhere off to his left. He looks up, half expecting Uther to have tracked him down. He gasps when he sees the figure standing there. Transformed into a tense, angry silhouette by the meagre light streaming behind him, he's still unmistakeably Merlin.
'Merlin,' Arthur says, jumping to his feet, his chest pounding, not quite believing they're face to face again. 'Merlin, that wasn't what it looked like.'
'What the fuck, Arthur?' Merlin says, backing away. 'I don't see you for a year, and then this? I've been banned from going anywhere near you. I've thought about you every minute of every day. I've been worried sick, and this, this is what you've turned into? Fuck,' he says. 'I can't believe you'd do this, after everything.'
Arthur grabs his arm and they struggle as Merlin tries to pull away. 'Please. I just had to get here. I thought ... it doesn't matter what I thought. Just listen, I can explain.'
Merlin still looks furious, but he stops fighting him. He looks pointedly at Arthur's hand on his arm, but he doesn't ask him to remove it. 'Fine,' he says. 'Explain then. I don't think today can get any worse now, anyway.'
'And you really thought that protesting at something I was there to celebrate was the best way of running into me?' Merlin says, from beside him on the crate, the anger in his voice replaced by something Arthur can't quite put his finger on.
'Yes?' says Arthur, spreading his hands helplessly. It sounds ridiculous now. It would be ridiculous had it happened anywhere outside of his strange, restrictive life.
He pulls his coat closer around him and wonders if Merlin is going to shout or try to walk away again. Instead he hears a strange choking sound and realises Merlin's trying not to laugh.
'You do know you're completely mad, don't you, Arthur Pendragon?' Merlin says, laying his head on his shoulder, and Arthur makes a sound that could almost be laughter, too.
'Well, I found you, didn't I?' he says, feeling a little defensive: 'There was a possibility you'd be there, and I could hardly come up with any other reason to be in the same place.'
'No,' Merlin says, after a few moments consideration, 'but then again, I don’t have to hide who I am.' He slips an arm around Arthur, and lands a kiss, brief and tentative, on the corner of his mouth. 'Bit of a fucking long shot though. Couldn't you have just phoned like normal people?'
'This was the only way,' Arthur says. He's forgotten Merlin doesn't know about the year he's had. 'Uther packed me straight off to some fucking brainwashing camp and left me there until I convinced them I wasn't gay. But that wasn't all. He's watched me ever since. It's been hell,' he says acknowledging for the first time, as he says the words out loud, how bad things really are. 'I can't do anything without his permission now for fear someone will corrupt me. Phonecalls, internet, seeing friends, going out by myself: it's all down to him.' Arthur presses his lips together and takes a deep breath to calm himself.
For a second, Merlin looks stunned. 'That sounds ... fucking terrible,' he says. 'I'm so sorry. I thought you were here because you blamed me for what happened. I had no idea.'
'How would you have known?' Arthur says, taking Merlin's hand, and for some reason - maybe relief that Merlin's there, maybe guilt for what Merlin might have thought of him these past months - that action make him want to dissolve into tears.
Merlin shifts so he's facing Arthur and, seeming to understand that's he's just about to lose it, pulls him into a tight hug.
'You're here now,' Merlin says, a quiet murmur against his neck. When he starts to kiss his neck, Arthur has to stifle a groan, because he can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.
'You look, um, well,' Merlin says when they pull back. He's a little glassy eyed and there's a smile playing on his lips. 'Really well.' He reaches up to stroke Arthur's cheek, his hand lingering even after his fingers have stopped tracing over his skin.
'From the looks you were getting, you don't seem to be short of attention,' Arthur says, and it's true, Merlin looks better than anything his memory could conjure up.
'I'm not really interested,' Merlin says.
Arthur chooses not to speculate on how conditional that really might be. It's hardly fair for him to object to something he can't compete with, but even so, it's something of a relief when Merlin pulls him closer and, with a questioning lift of his eyebrows, brushes their lips together and then leans into him.
'What now?' Merlin says, into the lapel of Arthur's coat. 'I don't suppose you can go and hand out leaflets at everything I go to, can you?'
'After what I saw today,' Arthur says, 'I don't want to. There must be a way. Just give me time. I don't know what to do right now, but I will.'
'Alright,' Merlin says. Arthur has no idea if he believes him or not. He's not sure, himself, if his good intentions will come to anything. But whilst he still can't quite go against his father yet - the thought of losing Uther's love is still too much like a black hole opening up in front of him - the part of him that's just as determined not to lose Merlin has surfaced again, stronger than it's ever been.
They talk for a while about small, inconsequential things. Merlin tells him about the courses he's applied for and the places he's been offered. His mum is getting better each day, and Gaius lives with them now which is, Merlin says, with a raised an eyebrow that's equally fond and exasperated, a mixed blessing.
Arthur tells Merlin about University, how tedious the trips up and down to London each day are, how he hopes that he'll do well enough to strike out by himself once he's finished. He tells Merlin which campus he attends and Merlin laughs, saying he nearly applied to the same place.
'Imagine Uther's face if you had,' Arthur says.
'You'd have had the quickest transfer in the history of higher education,' Merlin says, and Arthur laughs, because it's funny, in a fucked up way, that when Uther's involved, no one ever gets what they want.
He tells him how he sees much more of Morgana these days, particularly now she's enrolled on the same course as him.
'A bit too much, to be honest,' he says. 'She's in all my classes except for when she sneaks off early on Wednesday afternoons. I've no idea what she's doing, but she always makes it to the train on time.'
'Wednesday afternoons?' Merlin muses, 'I'm free on Wednesdays,' and they grin at each other stupidly, and, well, it's a start.
'There's something else,' Merlin says. He's nervous, his foot tapping a rapid beat on the ground. 'I thought you might know, but you haven't mentioned it, so ...'
'I know about Gaius,' Arthur says. 'I overheard Uther and Reverend Aredian.'
Merlin frowns. 'I'm not talking about Gaius,' he says.
'What, then?' Arthur says, thinking for a heartstopping moment that Merlin might be sick, or leaving the country, or some unnameable thing that was even worse. 'Tell me.'
'It was Morgana who told Uther to come back that night,' Merlin says, his words coming out in a rush. 'He came over the morning after he caught us. Well, before dawn really. Gaius made me stay in my room, but I heard them arguing. Uther said he only came back because she'd told him she thought you were going to some non-existent fucking leaving party for me, without his permission. He told Gaius that he'd ruin him if he didn't take me and get the fuck out of the village.'
'Morgana?' Arthur says, stunned.
Merlin spreads his hands in mute apology for something that isn't his fault. 'Just be careful of her, alright?' he says. 'I don't know what she wants, but I don't think you can trust her.'
'Fuck,' says Arthur, thinking back on how it always feels like Morgana is watching him for something. He'd written it off as another of her odd traits a long time ago, but now he wonders - along with her decision to take the same course as him - how much of it is Uther's doing.
Arthur takes his phone out of his pocket to check it; he has fourteen missed calls.
'Shit,' he says. 'Uther'll have the police out looking for me if I don't head back soon.' He gets to his feet. Merlin stands up with him and loops his slim arms around Arthur's waist.
'Okay,' Merlin says. Arthur can tell he's trying to swallow back disappointment. With one hand still around Arthur's waist, he reaches up and slowly threads his fingers through Arthur's hair, and suddenly Arthur's very aware of how well aligned their hips are, and presses closer. Merlin responds with a tense half-smile, his eyes poring over every inch of him, like he's never going to see enough. Arthur's never felt so scrutinised before, but instead of feeling strange or uncomfortable, he likes it. It's like another point of contact, and he can't remember the last time he's held anyone else for so close, or so long.
'Sorry,' Arthur says, not sure how he's going to drag himself away when the time comes. 'I wish we had longer.'
'So, about Wednesdays. Maybe I could ...' Merlin trails off, and gives Arthur a tentative look.
'You can't be suggesting what I think you're suggesting,' Arthur says, though part of him hopes he's right.
'And what's that?' Merlin smiles.
'That you come to my campus on the off chance I can get away?'
'That's exactly what I'm suggesting. You're free. I'm free. What's the problem?'
'Don't put your life on hold for me,' Arthur says, quickly, before he can take it back. 'It's not fair on you. What if Uther finds out? Last time he said he get you kicked out of your house.'
Merlin's kisses him. It's soft at first, but it soon deepens, becoming desperate and needy and not enough. When they move apart Merlin laughs, just lightly enough to take the bitter edge off of it, and looks away, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.
'What is it?' Arthur asks.
'I should have stood up to him,' Merlin says. 'I let my fear of him take over. I convinced myself it was the best for you, and my mum, and Gaius, but I was wrong. I've regretted it every day since. I should have gone back; I should have done something.'
'Merlin,' Arthur says, 'it's not your fault that things are like this. I don't want to make things difficult for you.'
'You said you needed time,' Merlin says, pulling him closer again. 'I'll give you time. As much as you need. Just let me decide what's fair on me, okay?'
Arthur nods, and ignores the phone in his pocket, which has started up its buzzing again. He feels lightheaded, elated, almost. It takes a moment to remember this is the heady feeling he always gets when he's with Merlin. 'Okay,' he says, because he's missed this for too long.
Merlin writes down his number and hands it to him.
'I can't take this,' Arthur says, handing it back. 'I'll remember it.'
Merlin looks at him, sceptical, until Arthur repeats it back to him three times.
'Impressive,' says Merlin. He hands another piece of paper to Arthur. 'What about this, then?' he asks, a grin spreading over his face.
Arthur looks at it. He feels something dangerous flare up within him as he grins back. 'Okay,' he says, and when Merlin kisses him again, goodbye, he doesn't feel as heartbroken as he thought he would be, because this is just until next time, and everything it's taken to get here has been worth it.
Later that night, when Arthur's back in his bedroom, he tries to remember everything about the time he and Merlin spent together.
What he mainly remembers is how they'd talked. It had started off slowly, almost a struggle to remember details. After a while it had speeded up, and their words had been rapid, knowing they only had minutes to cover nearly a year, and they'd moved closer and closer until finally, they'd been whispering into each other's skin.
Just before he gets into bed, he unfolds the scrap of paper Merlin gave him and looks at the blank sheet.
He smiles. He's not sure, exactly, what Merlin meant when he gave it to him, but he knows what it means to him: the future is theirs to decide.
As he drifts off to sleep, he can still feel Merlin's whispered words on him.
With one thing and another, it's not every Wednesday, but they manage at least every three or four weeks. It's not perfect by any means, but it kind of works, and neither of them are in any doubt about how lucky they are to have this at all.
The first time, it's just an hour. Arthur's wary and tense, but so excited that he can hardly remember how to get to the bar that he's selected purely on the grounds that it's close by and practically deserted in the afternoons. For the first half hour he's so twitchy he can barely concentrate; for the last, he wants so badly to stretch every minute out as long as he can, that he hardly manages to say anything at all.
When the weather starts to get warmer, he finds a park a little further from campus where they can walk or sit or, which is what generally happens, lie back on the grass, out of view of most passersby. Even though he needs to leave earlier to make the train, it's worth it if he can make a mess of Merlin's hair and pick blades of grass out of it afterwards. After that, the evenings are a write off. It's difficult to get stuck into course reading with the still-fresh memories of Merlin's skin, all heat and sunscreen, and how his fingers play lightly on the belt loops of Arthur's jeans before slipping lightly under the heavy fabric, almost like it's a challenge to stop him. Arthur finds he very rarely does.
The summer break is hard; more than two months when the only contact Arthur has is through whatever Elena or Gwaine or Percival happen to mention in passing. Elena still, occasionally, asks him if he has a message she can pass on to Merlin when she next sees him. A few times he almost relents, but he's too nervous of doing anything to compromise the precious, painstaking progress they've started to make. He does, however, make sure to mention how he's doing, what classes he's signed up to for the following year, and when he thinks his study periods will be.
If Elena smiles when he goes into this much detail about his life, then he pretends he doesn't notice.
He's warier of Morgana now, but ever mindful to keep to the thin line between keeping her out of his business, and not arousing her suspicion that he's onto her. Now he knows, he finds her actions confusing more than hurtful; he can see why she might not like him, but what she did seems over and above just simple dislike. Sometimes, when she joins him and Uther for their weekly meal together, he finds himself staring at her, as if the slopes and angles of her face will give away what's going on in her head.
The answer, when he finds it, is as shocking as anything he could have imagined.
One of Uther's many security measures, after Arthur's return from counselling, was to keep his bedroom window locked despite their housekeeper's dark mutterings about fires and suffocation.
For the most part, Arthur doesn't mind. Relatively speaking, it's minor in the scheme of things that have changed. It's only when, during a particularly hot summer spell, the air inside the house becomes so stifling that he picks the lock. It's a relief to have the window open, just a crack. It's just as well that's enough; any wider, and it would be visible from the patio below.
It's on one of these unbearably hot, sticky summer evenings that Arthur turns in early for bed. He normally stays downstairs for longer, but it's a Wednesday and he misses Merlin the most on these days. His usual tactic is to go to sleep as early as he can to avoid excessive brooding, but tonight he's finding it hard even to get drowsy.
It's no good, he thinks. He gets up and pushes the window open half an inch. After a few minutes of letting the cool air wash over him, he heads for the shower. He's almost under the spray when he remembers that he's left his towel in the bedroom. As he grabs it from the corner where he threw it that morning, he hears voices from the patio below. To his surprise, its Godywn and his father. He pauses. It's early for Godwyn to visit - only eight o'clock - and more unusual still for Uther to be home.
'I'm sorry, Uther,' Godwyn says, 'but there's no way it'll ever happen with Arthur and my Elena. She's adamant.'
'I see,' says Uther. 'And he told you this herself, did she?'
Arthur can hear the rising anger in his voice. He pauses and moves closer to the window. Although he and Elena are under no illusions about what they mean to each other, he's surprised she's shared any of this with her father.
'She did. It was my fault, actually,' says Godwyn, and although Arthur can't see him, he can imagine the look that Uther's giving him right now. 'I made some comment about how your Arthur ought to hurry up and make it official. It was only half a joke, really, but then she said, out of the blue, that she wished he meant more to her, but she couldn't marry someone she didn't love.' Godwyn lets out a short, nervous laugh. 'That's not the sort of thing you can argue with.'
'And you believe her?' says Uther. 'What does any girl as young as Elena know about a good marriage? She and Arthur are perfectly suited. We've been over this a hundred times: it will strengthen both our families' position in the village, and when Arthur takes over the business, he'll have a good, morally upstanding woman to take care of him.'
'That may have been true, a long time ago,' says Godwyn. 'I'm not so sure it stands now.'
'Speak to her,' Uther barks at him. 'End this nonsense. You know what's right for her. She's your daughter; she should respect your wishes over her own.'
Moments later, cigar smoke floats up into his room, and Arthur has to put his hand over his mouth to avoid gagging and giving himself away.
'That's the thing, though,' says Godwyn. 'I'm not sure I want her to respect my wishes over hers, not if it'll make her unhappy. Not,' he clarifies hastily, 'that I believe any wrong of Arthur, but still, the decision is hers.'
'Tell me,' Uther says, 'has my son had anything to do with this change of heart? Did he tell her anything, act in a certain way, perhaps, that made her think he was unsuitable for marriage?'
There's a long, terrifying pause, and Arthur starts to wonder if Elena has picked up on more than he thinks she has. He racks his brains for what he might have said, or implied about Merlin. He trusts her, but then again, Morgana's shown him what a shallow thing that can be.
'Nothing at all,' says Godwyn. 'She was at pains to make that much clear, at least. As for what else goes on in that girl's head sometimes, your guess is as good as mine.'
Uther grunts in apparent acceptance of Godwyn's explanation and they turn to talk of the golf club and the stables, until Uther mutters something about how the Pendragon dynasty will continue despite this setback. There's silence for a few minutes, then Godwyn clears his throat nervously.
'What about Morgana?' he asks, and Arthur's jaw drops at the suggestion.
'What about Morgana?' Uther snaps.
'Well, perhaps she and Arthur ...?'
'Out of the question,' Uther says.
'Why?' says Godwyn. 'I've always wondered why you haven't considered her. She and Arthur are perfectly suited: they're the same age, and they've known each other longer than he's known Elena. There was the business with her mother of course, but still ...'
'And that is exactly why I can't consider it,' Uther says. 'There are people here who remember Mrs Le Fay and how she conducted herself.'
'But no one knows the details,' says Godwyn, 'just you and I, and as for Mrs Le Fay, she dropped her threat to pursue a paternity suit as soon as you paid her off. She's been silent as the grave since.'
'And so she should be,' Uther growls. 'She made enough money out of her preposterous claims. I would never have considered it, but it was so soon after Igraine's death that I couldn't afford a scandal.'
'Really, Uther,' says Godwyn, 'I can't see a problem. There was no paternity test, and everyone who can remember, will only recollect how erratic she was. She was so fixated on you that she left her husband before Morgana was born.'
'The woman was a disgrace,' Uther says.
'Maybe so,' says Godwyn, 'but it's all forgotten about now. If Arthur and Morgana were to marry, then it would be a fitting end to the rift between the two families. Igraine was always so close to Mrs Le Fay; if I remember correctly, you were too. '
'It will never happen,' Uther says, his tone final.
'Ah well,' says Godwyn, in his best Well, you can't say I didn't try voice, and the conversation turns back to other things.
Arthur pushes his window shut and throws himself back on his bed, landing with a thump.
It's pretty clear what's just been implied, as is Uther's denial but - and not that he would ever want anything to do with Morgana like that - Uther's reluctance to even consider it seems at odds with his determination to continue the Pendragon line. His anger over Elena is proof enough of that.
Arthur rubs a hand over his eyes. There are other things, too, about the Le Fays, that don't feel right. The most pressing is that Uther has never, in his entire life, paid anyone off. Threatened them, yes; ruined them, maybe; destroyed them ... Arthur's willing to bet that's happened too. But he's never thrown money at a problem to make it go away. It's just not his style. It's the sort of thing Arthur could only imagine him doing if he wanted to make absolutely certain that things would never backfire. And for him to be so worried in the first place ...
His mind drifts to Uther's growing soft spot for Morgana, and how their personalities - their ruthlessness and single mindedness in particular - seem to mirror one other. Lastly, there is the fact that throughout the conversation with Godwyn, Uther never denied, outright, that he was Morgana's father, despite there apparently being no proof.
Arthur lets out a low, shaky breath. He has no proof either, but there's no doubt in his mind now that Morgana is Uther's daughter. His half-sister. The only part of this that's unclear in his mind now is whether Morgana knows about it.
That Friday, Morgana joins them for dinner, as she's been doing more and more frequently. Uther dominates the conversation, shooting questions at the pair of them about their course, what the other students are like, tutting in disapproval when he hears something he doesn't like. Arthur lets Morgana talk - she never passes up an opportunity to try to match her views to Uther's - and glances at them both, deep in conversation over the student body's plans for the next year.
'You should get involved in student politics, Morgana,' says Uther. 'Try to block some of their so-called diversity measures. It's disgraceful, forcing moral decay on young people the way they do. They should have the choice to say no to what's foisted on them.'
Morgana smiles and nods. 'What do you think, Arthur?'
'I certainly wouldn't want to be up against you in a debate,' Arthur says, and though Morgana laughs it off, he sees the hungry look that flickers across her face, as she takes his small concession as a victory. In that moment, she's so like Uther that he can't help but push things a little further.
'Seriously, father,' Arthur says, keeping a careful eye on Morgana, 'sometimes it's like she's the daughter you never had.'
Morgana schools her expression well, but not quite well enough. It's only for a fraction of a second, but just after the words leave Arthur's mouth she glances over at Uther, her face transformed by a look so expectant it borders on anguish.
'You'd better start honing your debating skills then, son,' says Uther. 'Can't let our side down, eh?'
Arthur gives them both a non-committal smile and returns to his meal, but he doesn't miss the darker look that crosses Morgana's face as Uther fails to acknowledges her in his response.
She knows, Arthur thinks. He's not sure whether to feel angry with her, or sorry for her. He doesn't suppose it matters: either way, her actions make a lot more sense now.
It's fair to say that by the time the Autumn term comes around, Arthur is more excited than most.
He's not really expecting to see Merlin on his first week back, and after he's finished his last Wednesday class and waited for Morgana to make her excuses, he heads outside to eat his sandwiches, having pretty much resigned himself to an afternoon of actual study.
'Hey,' says a voice just behind him, indistinct amongst the background murmur of students walking in and out of the building.
Arthur turns. It's Merlin, wearing an oversized baseball cap which he probably thinks hides his face. It doesn't really.
'Fuck Merlin, Morgana's only just left,' says Arthur, and though his nerves have taken a bad hit, he's can no more stop the grin that's spreading across his face than he can the warm feeling that's radiating out from the centre of his chest. It's been far, far too long.
'I know, I know,' says Merlin. 'I waited over there till she went,' he gestures to a set of benches a little way down the road, 'what do you reckon she's up to, anyway?'
'Don't care,' Arthur says, relieved that he can feel his heart rate slowing. Well, a fraction anyway. 'Come on, let's get out of here.'
'Where are you studying?' he asks, when they stop for a coffee. He knows Merlin's been offered places at two London universities, but has no idea where he's ended up.
Merlin looks down at his fingers. 'I'm not,' he says and then, when Arthur starts to frown, 'no, no, my results were fine. I just wanted to work for a year, get some money together. It's bar work mainly, but the pay's alright.'
'Oh,' says Arthur. 'So you're not in London, then?'
Merlin grins. 'Actually, yes I am,' he says. 'I've got a house share. It's bloody miles away and my rooms tiny, but I thought being here might make things, well, easier.'
'Merlin,' Arthur says, who knows full well that paying London rent would pretty much cancel out getting any sort of money together, 'you shouldn't be chucking your career away because of me.'
Merlin looks away, kicking at the floor with his heels. When he meets Arthur's eyes, there's something a little defiant there, like he knew all along that Arthur wouldn't be happy with this, but he's gone ahead and done it regardless. 'It won't work any other way,' Merlin says. 'You know as well as I do. And it's just for a year. Next year, I'll be studying whatever happens, I promise.'
Arthur doesn't know quite what to say to that. Although Merlin has a point, it still feels like a slap in the face. If he'd been able to offer him anything resembling a normal relationship, it's a decision that would never have crossed his mind.
'Arthur,' Merlin's fingers brush his arm. 'It was just ... I missed you so much this summer. The number of times I nearly called the others and made some excuse to visit, just so I'd catch a glimpse of you.'
I wish you had, Arthur thinks. He says: 'I missed you too; a stupid, stupid amount.'
'Thing is, if Uther found out, he'd've found some way to make you pay for it. When I heard Elena say you were free the same afternoon this year - how did you manage that by the way? - I just couldn't take the chance that there'd be a clash. It would have been too hard. It's not perfect, but for now, it's how I want to do it, okay?'
From under the table, Arthur feels Merlin's hand sneak over the top of his thigh and, after a moment's consideration, lets his hand move over too, until their fingers are loosely entwined. Up until now, he's never really seen what effect all of this is having on Merlin. He's always imagined that he does the majority of the pining and the longing, but now he sees the nervous, but still determined look in Merlin's eyes, he comes face to face with the fact that he's not the only one.
'Fine,' he says, tightening his fingers around Merlin's. 'No, actually, it's more than fine. Thank you. But don't you dare pull this shit again.'
'Wouldn't dream of it,' says Merlin, who doesn't look a bit contrite. He shoots a quick look around the cafe and when he judges it just deserted enough, he plants a brief kiss on Arthur's lips. 'And who knows where we'll be in a year, anyway?'
Uther lets the issue of the continuation of the Pendragon line rest for longer than Arthur expects him to, but inevitably, it comes up again.
'The Castlefords are coming for dinner this Saturday,' he tells Arthur. 'Make sure you're presentable; they're bringing their daughter.'
Arthur nods and braces himself for the talk about good blood, suitability and morality. Uther refers to Vivian, the daughter, in glowing terms, though privately, given he describes her as giddy Arthur doubts his father has seen her since she was a little girl.
'But you'd be a calming influence,' Uther says. 'She's very pretty; it's a wonder no one's snapped her up already.'
'Hang on,' says Arthur, who's starting to feel like a horse at a market. 'I thought it was just dinner.'
Uther raises an eyebrow in the slow, aggressive way that he's grown to dread. He can almost hear the tension crackle around them. 'And I,' Uther says, 'thought that you were serious about proving yourself to me after your problems last year. Was I misled?'
Arthur swallows. It would be so easy to back down over this, to agree to a couple of dates and let things fizzle out, but with Merlin in the equation it just doesn't seem right. Merlin, he's pretty sure, would understand, but a bit like the year out he's taken, Arthur doesn't see why he should have to put up with it and this, at least, is a situation he can do something about.
'Father,' he says, relieved that his voice doesn't sound as shaky as he feels. 'I promised I wouldn’t engage in any immoral behaviour, and I haven’t. Other than that, I'm not making any promises.'
Uther narrow his eyes and the long, appraising look he gives him makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a second, he thinks he's gone too far, and Uther's going to lay down the law with the sort of force that Arthur, unfortunately, knows he's capable of.
'Interesting,' Uther says, the mockery in his voice heightened by the chilling smile that accompanies it, 'particularly since you expect me to take you at your word concerning your behaviour. We're eating at seven. I do hope that you are, at least, able to promise me that you'll be there to greet them.'
Arthur nods, relieved that's it for the moment. Of course, he knows that the part about immoral behaviour is a matter of perspective, but whilst he's aware that he's lying to his father, at least he's not lying to himself.
Even Uther admits that Vivian is unsuitable in pretty much every way. Arthur swears he can hear the discordant screech of her voice in his ears for hours after the Castlefords leave.
'What an obnoxious young woman,' Uther says. He pats Arthur on the shoulder and for a moment they laugh together just like he imagines other fathers and sons might do. It's a rare moment, the sort they hardly ever share, but it's over almost as soon as it begins, Uther's features snapping back from their momentary softness. 'Still,' he says, 'you need to be realistic with your expectations; I can't afford for you to jeopardise our family line through pickiness. There'll be someone else, I'm sure.'
I already have someone, Arthur thinks.
'You're a bit too understanding, Merlin,' Arthur says, when he mentions the Vivian debacle to him. 'I don't know when this parade of future wives is going to end, though my guess is that it'll be no time soon.'
'Not really,' Merlin says. 'I've been through this, remember. I'm sure if I was trying to learn ... I don't know ... football, or something, you'd be the one telling me what it's like. I just happen to know what it's like to come ---'
'I'm not coming out,' Arthur says. His reaction shocks him; it feels like someone's got a tight grip on his guts and they're twisting.
'Bloody hell, Arthur,' Merlin says, and elbows him in the teasing way he has that never fails to make things seem better. 'I was going to say come to terms with who you are. God, I'd never push you into a decision like that if you weren't ready.'
'Sorry,' Arthur says, hanging his head sheepishly. His apology feels selfish, because as reassuring as it is that Merlin won't put him under that sort of pressure, sorry isn't going to make any of this fair on Merlin, either.
The term passes quickly, and before long everyone's talking about Christmas. This year, Uther hands over the planning for the village New Year's party to him. Apparently the village council have agreed, but he has his doubts about that.
'Make sure it's an affair with traditional family values; it reflects on us,' he growls at Arthur. He doesn't wait for an answer, hopping into his car to visit more potential sponsors for a new project he's barely talked about.
Arthur's not expecting much interest, but he asks around after church anyway to see if anyone wants to help him organise things. It's not exactly the highlight of anyone's social calendar, but for years he's seen the way Uther's pushed the villagers around, so he doesn't see the harm in trying to come up with something that at least a few of them want.
Surprisingly, a lot of his friends do want to get involved. Unfortunately, Morgana is one of them, but between Gwaine and his tendency to mouth off over the slightest thing, and Elena's propensity for going off at a tangent at a moment's notice, she's fairly well suppressed.
'What do you think about promotions and things?' Arthur asks them, in late November. 'There were some leaflets promoting particular, erm, lifestyles, a few years back, and that attracted a bit of controversy.'
'What's this, Arthur?' Gwaine drawls, leaning back in his chair and running a lazy hand through his perfect hair. 'Your father still running the show here?'
'No,' says Arthur and notes, in passing, the glare that Morgana gives him. 'He's got certain views, and I don't think anyone's going to be surprised by what they are. I just want to know what you think about using the event as to promote something that might not appeal to everyone. We'll vote on it, and that'll be that.'
'Until your father finds out,' says someone.
Arthur looks up, missing who's just spoken. 'No,' he says again. 'The majority decision is the decision. It's final.'
There's a surprised and somewhat cynical silence, and Arthur doesn't know whether to feel pleased there's no further argument, or insulted that they have so little faith in him.
Fuck it, got to start somewhere, he thinks, and when there's a majority vote to keep the event neutral, he decides that on balance, he's pleased.
'So, exactly how mental did Uther go?' Merlin asks, breaking his chocolate reindeer in two and offering half to Arthur. It's the last week of term, it's snowing and they're freezing their arses off in the park, mainly because no one else is stupid enough to go there.
'It was pretty bad,' Arthur admits, though he misses out the part about the broken crockery, and the threats to ground him and take him out of school because clearly that's been corrupting him.
'Shit,' says Merlin. 'Has he calmed down yet?'
Arthur shrugs and brushes a snowflake out of Merlin's eyelashes. 'There's not much he can do about it,' he says, and Merlin rolls his eyes at his attempt to avoid the question. 'Luckily, Elena minuted everything and had it submitted to some committee or other the next day.' Arthur laughs. 'Apparently once there's a record of the decision he can't overrule it. Put it this way, though: he's unlikely to ask me to run it next year.'
'Maybe he'll give Morgana a shot,' says Merlin, one eyebrow raised; Arthur's shared his suspicions about her parentage with him some time ago.
'In that case, I don't think I'll even make the guest list,' Arthur says.
Merlin laughs, but then his expression turns serious. 'I'm proud of you for standing up to him,' he says, and he leans across to kiss him so softly he's barely there, until Arthur pulls him in, smiling into the kiss as he tastes the faintest hint of chocolate on Merlin's lips.
Arthur isn't that bothered about going out on New Year's Eve. Everything's organised, after all, but at the same time, he doesn't want Uther to think that he's that easily intimidated, so he pulls his suit on and heads down to the village hall anyway.
It's surprisingly bearable this year and, having convinced an only slightly unwilling Percival that he should drive him home as well as Gwaine, he has a few glasses of wine and even attempts to dance a couple of times.
'What're you doing?' he says to Elena. It's only ten-thirty, and she's already tapping away industriously on her phone.
'Just sending New Year's messages,' she shouts over the music. 'Nothing'll get through come midnight.'
'Very organised,' Arthur grins. 'Who are you bothering now?'
'Merlin,' she says. 'Want to wish him a Happy New Year?'
Arthur hesitates briefly, but the wine overrules the caution he might otherwise have exercised, and he says: 'Yeah, why not?'
The rest of the evening passes without a hitch, and just as they are leaving, Elena grabs his arm and pulls him back into the hallway.
'Got a reply,' she says, but just as she's opening the message, Morgana appears from nowhere and grabs her phone.
'What's this?' she says, holding it out of reach. 'Do you have a secret admirer, Elena?'
'Fuck off,' Elena says, grabbing at the air. Arthur holds his breath and stands dead still while Morgana dances around for a painfully long time, flicking triumphantly through Elena's messages before handing it back.
'Well, that was a bit of an anti-climax,' she says, and saunters off airily in search of someone else to pester.
Arthur is, by this point, ashen-faced.
'I can handle her,' Elena says, winking at him. 'She thinks I haven't noticed that she keeps tabs on me, but I'd be blind not to. Here's Merlin's reply, by the way. Don't worry,' she says, seeing Arthur's panicked expression, 'I know you're not supposed to be friends; he's been in my contacts as Gillian ever since the first time she sneaked my phone off me. She thinks I don't know about that either.'
Arthur takes the phone, wondering if Merlin knows what his number's stored as in Elena's phone. He still has no idea what else she's surmised about them but, that aside, it's kind of reassuring to know that at least one other person has picked up on how duplicitous Morgana can be.
'Stop looking as if the world's about to end,' she says, 'and take a look at what Gillian's got to say for himself.'
Arthur knows Merlin wouldn't have said anything that would put him in a difficult position, but he's a bit nervous as he opens the message up anyway. Then he smiles. It's fine. Really, it's more than fine.
Thanks E!! ; ) Can't think of a better start to the New Year, G xxx
Arthur's still grinning like an idiot when Elena taps him on the shoulder.
'I'll take you home,' she says, and inclines her head over to where Percival has thrown a kicking and swearing Gwaine over his shoulder, and is heading determinedly in the direction of the car park. 'I think someone's got their hands full.'
Part Five