Chapter Two: When the world comes crumbling down (I've got you to piece it back together again)
A typical Monday involved rising before the sun to iron his shirt and tie so he could leave the house in time to make it to the office before anyone else arrived. Mostly he did this so that he could have the first cup of coffee in peace, but lately he also preferred to stand in front of the giant, perfectly cleaned windows so he could watch the people rushing to work while the cold lifted. It soothed him, watching the world go by below in a blur of motion and sound as people went about starting their week. It was the same each time he watched, and he couldn’t help but wonder how they did it, how they survived in an existence so repetitive, so mundane.
Granted, his life veered towards the mundane at the best of times, but he liked to think it was only this part, and that he had his weekends to look forward to, where he didn’t have to be under his father’s thumb, pushing papers, impressing the board and making money. He could laugh with his friends and play his bass. He didn’t include himself when thinking about all the people below in their boring lives.
He couldn’t.
“Arthur. Arthur.” He was snapped out of his thoughts by the harsh tone of his father’s voice, currently laced with disapproval. He took one last look out the window and turned to face Uther.
“Father, good morning,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee.
“I see you’ve forgotten to put two filters in the drip this time,” Uther said.
“Yes, well-”
“No excuses Arthur, you’ve got to remember the minute details in these meetings or we won’t receive the recognition we deserve,” Uther replied while pouring himself a mug with a spoonful of sugar. “You’ll have to make another.”
“Yes father.” He quickly dumped what remained and set up another round. It would barely be done in time for the meeting, but he could text the assistant’s assistant and ask her to bring muffins to tide them over.
And that was what he was just about to do when Morgana came in with a loud, “Good morning Arthur, going to conquer the world with your coffee today?”
Arthur gave her an eye squint. “Looks like you’ve already had your share, I can make one less pot that way.”
She tossed a stack of manila folders overstuffed with papers onto the counter next to him and snagged Arthur’s unprotected coffee mug to take a swig.
“I’ve got Elena ordering pastries already,” Morgana said cheerfully, even as she finished off Arthur’s coffee.
Arthur groaned, “she’s going to drop them, Morgana.”
Morgana smirked, “I suppose you think it was a coincidence I called her?”
Arthur let out a strangled laugh. “Last time, I had to pretend that nothing was wrong in front of a conference room full of Chinese dignitaries when the whole time all I could feel was the dirt grinding against my teeth! You are a cruel woman. ”
She wiped her red lipstick mark from the coffee mug with a graceful slide of her thumb and returned it to Arthur. “Indeed I am.”
Arthur was certain he could have found something else to chastise her about, but employees were beginning to filter in and he was forced to put on his professional facade - along with the fresh cup of coffee he managed to round up.
He gathered up the papers Morgana had thrown at him moments earlier and started to make his way down the hall to the conference room, wanting a few minutes before everyone arrived to gather his thoughts and make some final preparations for the presentation.
Uther cornered him right before he stepped into the room. “You’ve got this one nailed right?”
“Would you expect any less, father?” Arthur replied.
“I seem to recall a failure the previous time I heard you utter that conviction,” Uther responded, snagging a pastry from the newly arrived Elena - whose face was slightly flushed from the chill outside.
While Arthur refused to believe she had dropped the morning treats again, he decided not to take any chances, and waved her off with a smile when she held out the platter. He failed to mention this to his father though, secretly hoping that he was ingesting dirt at this very moment. He’d long ago stopped trying to please him.
He hated the way his father made him feel at times--most of the time. Nothing Arthur did or achieved was ever good enough for Uther. It never had been. It was always overshadowed by the bad choices he’d made in life, even though they’d been a rare occurrence. He was pretty sure he’d never be forgiven for losing the Portside Hotel development because he’d turned up to work hungover, his presentation on a USB stick in his apartment. It hadn’t mattered to his father that his best friend Percy had died the afternoon before, and that he’d spent the night drowning his sorrows with a bottle of cheap scotch. It had only mattered that he’d fucked up and he had paid for it - was still paying for it.
The lights flickered on when he stepped in - an essential component for a green-conscious company like Camelot Developments and Construction. Uther tended to use that catch phrase to rope in potential clients.
It wasn’t long before the room was full of business men in perfectly fitted suits. Arthur took a deep breath and started his speech about destruction of an old children’s home in favor of a Starbucks.
When he finished his speech with an eloquent description of the exterior of the future building, it was met with applause and a scuffle of everyone leaving. Arthur flopped onto the chair he hadn’t used the duration of the presentation. He was massaging his temples and closing his eyes when he heard Morgana clear her throat in the door frame.
He looked up to see her frowning in thought. “Is there something you’re needing Morgana?”
“Oh, nothing,” but her tone clearly implied she had something to say.
Arthur sighed deeply. “Come on Morgana, I can tell you have something to say. I hear your thoughts clunking away in there.” He was used to this by now. It had become a reoccurring habit after Uther had designated Arthur for giving speeches since Morgana deliberately tried to botch up any contracts she found didn’t coincide with her beliefs.
“It’s just- do you really believe it’s acceptable to knock down a foster home to build a coffee house? And not just any coffee house, an addition to a foreign chain.”
“Morgana-”
“It’s terrible that Uther would advocate that; he adopted me after all. I would have had no place to go if there hadn’t been a foster home.”
“Morgana!”
She finally looked at him, a worry line creasing her forehead.
“It’s abandoned. The building is rotting in on itself.”
“So then someone can reconstruct it! Why do we have to rip it down and waste the space for a damn coffee house?” Morgana bitterly huffed before turning down the hallway. Arthur cringed when he heard his father’s office door slam open and then closed. He flinched when he heard the raised shouting and literally jumped from his seat when he heard the desk flip over.
“You’re insufferable!” Morgana’s voice rang out clear as day. Arthur caught one of the employee’s eyes and shook his head.
“Sir, should we tell our guests that this has nothing to do with the contract?” Lancelot asked hesitantly from the door.
“Lance, when did you get in? You were meant to be early today remember?” Arthur swiveled his chair in one full circle before standing up and patting Lance on the shoulder in greeting.
“Yes well… something came up.”
“You’re hung over aren’t you?” Arthur grinned at him even as the voices in his father’s office increased in volume.
“It’s your damn fault,” Lance mumbled. “If your band wasn’t so shit I wouldn’t need to get drunk when I attend your weekend gigs.”
“BS, I call you on that one.” Arthur playfully jabbed Lance on the chest, but Lance didn’t take the bait.
“They’re fighting again? I’m beginning to worry that our reputation will start to be about the epic fighting and not the epic work we do.”
“Yeah, started a while ago though, it should be over soon.” Sure enough, Morgana came barreling out the door at that very moment, her eyes shiny with angry tears. She swooped past Arthur and Lance without a word and stormed her way - elegantly, always elegantly - out of the room. In the office, the desk was lying on its side, papers strewn in every direction and an infuriated Uther facing the window.
“Are you going to diffuse your father this time?” Lance asked in a stage whisper.
Arthur handed him the folders, straightened his tie and went straight into the lion’s den.
***********************
“I’m pissed,” Merlin said upon entering the pub.
“It’s,” Gawain glanced at the clock, “only half past ten cuz.”
“What? Oh, no, we were taught American slang in class the other day. Pissed means angry. I just… the professor made that test impossible. Every question was complete shite and unanswerable!” Merlin flopped onto a bar stool. Gawain poured him a beer without being asked and set it down with an overly exaggerated wave of his arm. He didn’t spill a drop.
“I thought it was only half past ten,” Merlin observed with a raised eyebrow.
Gawain tsked at him. “It’s never too early to have a Failure Beer, Big M. Thought you would have learned that by now.”
“Failure Beer? You patent that?”
“You wanna sue me for the name not-yet-lawyer lawyer?” Gawain grinned, reached across the counter and ruffled Merlin’s hair.
“Why, you think I can’t?” Merlin sucked the foam from the top of the glass.
“I don’t doubt your abilities. I’m terrified of them actually,” Gawain said with a serious expression.
“I don’t comprehend how you can be functioning at this hour after such a late night.” Merlin took a deep pull of the beer. It tasted like bitter failure and now he was convinced that it really was Gawain’s Failure Beer after all.
“Don’t start,” Gawain suddenly snapped.
“Start what?”
“You always end up preaching to me about how Gaius wouldn’t approve of my drinking habits,” Gawain scrubbed at a stain on the counter.
Merlin swallowed the remainder of his beer in two gulps so that he didn’t have to respond.
“I know what my pap would have wanted,” Gawain growled.
“Where is this coming from? I came in here upset about my test and you manage to make it all about you!” Merlin pushed the empty glass towards Gawain and stood up. “The world does not revolve around you, despite the fact that you may believe so. Think about someone other than yourself for a change.”
Gawain’s face would have been hilarious in any other situation but his slack jawed, wide eyed look of surprise only enraged Merlin further. He swiped at the glass and turned to leave before it even shattered on the floor.
Merlin stormed his way up to the rooftop of the pub. Crisp air slapped his face in greeting. He took a deep breath and made a bee-line to his vegetable garden, which took up only a tiny corner of the roof. He’d been taking care of it for years. Ever since he first moved into the pub with Gaius and Gawain. Over time, it had evolved into something more akin to a green house, but still, he used his magic to help the plants grow.
His fingers itched as he got closer until he finally caved and extended his hand to let the energy flow. Tomato buds started blooming in a few seconds and after just a few more, they changed into tiny green tomatoes.
“You know,” Merlin stopped his ministrations and turned to face his cousin. “My pap didn’t intend for his pub to be turned into a vegetable experiment lab.”
“You just don’t get it, Gawain, this place, it calms me. It calms my magic down. Your dad knew that. He taught me everything I know. You, however, are delusional if you believe he’d want you to carry on the way you are! You’re so much more than nameless sex and drinking and living behind a bar that you won’t change, even though it only barely makes ends meet.” Merlin’s voice hit a twang at the end when he saw Gawain deflating.
Gawain remained silent for several long seconds, his face straining with something that Merlin couldn’t quite read. Gawain made his way around Merlin and idly flicked at the tomato bud. “You know, I was a little jealous of you, cuz. My pap was always concerned about you. He built that damn magic book cellar for you to learn from and spent hours every single day to help you riffle through them. What do you think I did while you two were so preoccupied?”
Merlin shook his head, “Gawain I-”
Gawain reeled on him, “I sat alone in the pub waiting for you both to come back up so that I could spend time with him. With you!”
“I had no idea,” Merlin said breathlessly.
Gawain’s face dropped, “I know. It’s not your fault you were born with this,” he motioned to the garden as if to signify everything, “but… I just wish I could have told my pap how much I missed him sometimes- not all the time, but sometimes.”
“I’m sure he understood. He would constantly talk about how I needed to follow your work ethic and good humor. In fact,” Merlin stepped around to push a bit of magic against the tomato bud so that it expanded. “I would never be able to do this if it weren’t for his descriptions about how hard you concentrate on things.”
“He said things like that?”
“Yeah, every time we went over a new spell he would remind me to be as focused as you,” Merlin said, a tiny smile spread across his lips.
Gawain, looking admittedly misty eyed, plucked a green tomato from the plant and handed it to Merlin. “Why do you even grow these things? You can’t eat them.” Gawain said.
Merlin flicked at the immature vegetable, eyes turning briefly gold. It morphed into a single seed and fell obediently into Merlin’s palm.
“Magic,” Merlin said quietly, “can manipulate life. My garden is meant to show that. It’s meant to remind me that I have to control it at a price. There is always a price. Uncle Gaius… I would have never known it without him. Things could have been very different.”
Their eyes met briefly and they tried to keep straight faces until Gawain broke into a brilliant smile.
“Come here Big M,” they embraced briefly, Gawain sniffled just a tad and then they broke apart.
“I think we should see if Will’s cooking anything for his hangover,” Merlin responded with a crooked smile. “He does make a mean fry-up.”
“Completely concur, cuz.”
***********************
Arthur straightened his tie, double checked that it was different from his designated work one so that his father wouldn’t shoot it dirty looks, and then made his way to the hostess desk.
“Pendragon,” he said with gentle smile to the girl at the front desk. She gave him a snooty look.
“Right this way, sir,” she waved him towards a room, “we’ve reserved this for you and your family’s privacy.”
Arthur was pretty sure she was implying something, but he ignored the inkling in favour of taking a deep breath before opening the smoke glass door leading to an entire evening of torture over expensive starters.
“I haven’t got anything to say Uther. Your lack of flexibility is going to be your downfall one day. Clients will make a rise against you.”
Arthur sat down, neither noticed nor desiring to be.
“I run this company with poise and etiquette, Morgana. Utilizing an old building for something that it was in the past is a pointless endeavour-”
“It’s not just to hang on to the past! That’s what you don’t understand, it’s to make a difference in the future and-”
“Controlling the building’s use is not in our protocol. That’s out of my control once a buyer signs the contract for construction.” Uther picked up a fork just to slam it down on the table.
Morgana didn’t even blink. “You control nothing. I’ll show you what it is to control something.”
“And how,” Uther clenched his jaw, put his hands firmly on the table, and narrowed his eyes at her, “exactly are you going to do that?”
“I saw your next plans for that Irish pub, I want to be the account and construction manager,” Morgana said, voice changing from irate to innocent and needy in the span of a few words.
Uther huffed. “The last time I put you at the front you lost us a deal.”
“That was a mistake, I’ve learned from it.” Morgana’s eyes went huge.
“Absolutely not. That’s final, no more on the subject,” Uther said.
Arthur took the opportunity to clear his throat. Both of them looked at him as if he had a second head, but he smiled. “What type of wine do we want tonight?”
They were halfway through their third bottle of Cabernet and second hors d’oeuvre when Morgana raised her glass to purpose a toast. Uther looked surprised but nodded for her to go on as he raised his glass as well.
“To the corporation,” Morgana said through clenched teeth.
They tapped glasses gently and took a sip.
“Uther?” Morgana asked around a mouthful of shrimp scampi.
He tilted his head to acknowledge her.
“I’m sorry for questioning your motives. Truly, it was completely out of line.” Morgana said. Arthur rolled his eyes at her. She kicked his shin under the table with bruising force.
“No, no, your opinion matters as much as anyone else,” Uther responded. His cheeks were rosy from the wine.
“Thank you.” Morgana said.
“Father,” Arthur piped in, feeling generous, probably from the wine. “Why don’t you let her cooperate with me in the next project?”
Uther waved his hand. “Alright, I suppose that would be acceptable. We have roughly over a month to repossess The King’s Head for an apartment development. I trust that you two can handle the majority of the negotiations?”
Arthur choked even as Morgana gave an enthusiastic - if not overly so - “Of course”.
“Arthur,” Uther said, giving him a suspicious look, “are you alright?” Arthur blinked.
“Yes, father. I’m fine. The wine went down the wrong way. All sorted,” he said, his mind racing. He’d had no idea his father had his sights set on Gawain and Merlin’s pub, his weekend musical haven.
The dinner ended with stiff goodbyes and hailed cabs. Morgana gave Arthur a brief hug and a whispered, ‘thanks for convincing him’. Arthur decided it was best not to tell her that his mind was set on nothing more than on how best to warn Merlin about his father’s plans and how he was going to stop them.
