Pendragon's Folly, Chapter 5
Aug. 2nd, 2014 04:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thismazTitle: Pendragon's Folly
Pairing: M/A, eventually.
Characters: in this chapter - Merlin, Arthur, Uther.
Rating: PG maybe even U
Chapter Word Count: 7,600
Warnings: No sex
Summary: There's an out of work wizard, a museum, a sizeable donation that turns it into a building site, suspicious happenings and magic. A sort of 'take your fandom to work' story.
Author's note 1: When it comes to romance, this story is the definition of 'slow burn'.
Comments are always greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Author's note 2: More thanks than I can say to my beta, plot wrangler and best friend,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparrow2000. And many, many thanks to DJ for (hopefully) catching the typos we missed. If you spot any more, please do let me know.
Disclaimer: I write fan fic. All the characters from the Merlin series are the property of the BBC and Shine, etc. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this writing.
Chapter 5
Arthur spent the first part of the afternoon on the phone to each member of the Board of Trustees, explaining about the accident and the resultant need to close the museum. Merlin drafted a short press statement for the Saturday edition of the Camelot Echo.
"What about the Museum Club?" Merlin asked. "You've seen what Gwen does. Those kids are learning stuff. They come every weekend."
Arthur pausing in his search through the papers spread across his desk. "They're a very visible activity," he agreed. "Yes, we don't want the bad publicity from closing them down with no notice. And Gwen's contract has another five months to run. We can hire a portacabin for them." He pulled up google on his laptop and looked down the list of links his search had produced. With a sigh, he closed the window again. "Pendragon's has clout. I'll ask someone at the company to get the best price. We can put it out front."
"I thought we couldn't call upon Pendragon's for help."
"Don't quibble, Merlin."
Arthur made a phone call, amended Merlin's press statement and sent it through to the Echo at 3 o'clock. He then sent Merlin out to fetch them a late lunch and, while they ate, they sat at Arthur's desk planning the next necessary steps.
"With the bank holiday on Monday, we need to get as much sorted today and tomorrow as we can," Arthur said. "The collections can move to the Riverside warehouse sooner than we'd allowed for. I need to see Leon about that."
"Gaius might want to set up an office there, then. He hasn't got a car, but the number 35 goes out that way, so... Why Leon?"
Studying the list of issues and tasks, Arthur said, "With the building empty, Leon can get his crew in here earlier, so the works schedule will change. It'll give him more leeway, which he'll be glad of." He caught Merlin's eye. "I know," he said. "We really wanted to keep it open as long as possible, but it was going to have to close for a while and it really isn't safe."
Merlin gathered the empty packaging from their sandwiches and threw it in the bin. "Yeah, I know," he said.
"How long will it take to move the collections?" Arthur asked.
Merlin pulled up the project plan on his laptop. "We scheduled the move of the stores to start at the end of next month and allowed three weeks."
"Alright. Move that forward to start next week. If Leon's got a couple of trustworthy people he can spare, we can probably do it quicker than that, too. But assuming three weeks, how much more flex does that put into the building contract?"
Merlin made the change and studied the result. "Four weeks. There are some things that can't shift."
"Send me that file, will you? I'll talk to Leon. You go and explain what we've decided to Gaius. See if he has anything to add."
They left the office together, but outside Gaius's workroom Arthur paused. "Are you going to watch Question Time tonight?" he asked.
Merlin smiled. "I'd quite like to," he admitted, "But Gaius doesn't have a television."
Arthur boggled. "He doesn't?"
"No. He's got a real top end stereo, but he mostly listens to the radio."
"Wow, well, uh, do you want to come and watch it? At the hotel? With me?" Arthur asked, adding, "You don't have to. It's not part of your job or anything."
Merlin's smile broadened. "Thanks. I'd really like that."
"Okay then." Arthur looked at his watch. "It starts at 10:30. There's still a lot of work to do, but we could get some supper first? "
"Thanks. Okay," Merlin said, adding cheerfully, "Do I get overtime for that?"
A smile tugging at the corner of Arthur's mouth. "No, you get supper." He shifted back to business. "This meeting will take a couple of hours. Once you've spoken to Gaius, I want you to work out a detailed schedule for moving the displays first and then the stores. We'll need specialists to remove the display cases in the Ticket Office. See if Gaius has any recommendations and if not, try google, but I want a reference. Someone Gaius can phone and talk to."
The meeting with Gaius involved Gwen too, since she was in the workroom with him. They were both resigned and a little depressed, but Gwen brightened considerably when Merlin told her that Arthur had a plan to keep the Museum Club open.
She left to go through her programme, so she could work out which items from the collections she wanted to keep close at hand. Gaius didn't know of any suitable tradesmen, but he said he had a few contacts at other museums and offered to call them, so Merlin went back to his computer to start on a removal plan and listen to Gwen's thoughts as they worked.
It was nearly 7pm when he left the Ladies Waiting Room, having completed an inventory of the items in the displays that would need to be locked away in the safe at the Town Hall, and headed up the stairs.
Above him Arthur came out onto the balcony. Their eyes met and Merlin smiled. He thought Arthur smiled back, although it was sometimes difficult to tell with Arthur, who more often smiled with his eyes than with his mouth.
"There you are," Arthur called. "I was coming to look for you." They met halfway along the balcony. "You still on for supper?"
"Sure," Merlin said. "Just let me put this in the office," he held up his notepad, "and I'm all yours."
Arthur smirked and Merlin felt his face heat up, but Arthur didn't say anything. He merely nodded and opened the door into Gaius's office, to turn off the lights.
Merlin dropped off his notepad, shoved his work laptop into his back pack and together they walked down the stairs and through the Ticket Office to the staff exit.
"It's only a few minutes' walk," Arthur said when they reached the pavement. "This way." He turned right.
"Oh, good, because I need to stop off at an off-licence on the way. I need to buy a bottle of good brandy. It's Gaius's birthday tomorrow."
"Is it?" Arthur asked. "I'd better get him something, too, then."
"Not brandy," Merlin said firmly. "That's my idea. You'll have to come up with something of your own."
"Cognac," Arthur said. "If you're looking for something good. How about a book? You can come with me to Smith's tomorrow and help me find something."
"I don't suppose I'll get overtime for that, either?"
Arthur laughed. "What is this thing you've got with overtime?" he asked. "I pay you very well, you know. Things like choosing a present are part of your normal duties."
Grinning, Merlin retorted, "Hey! Not your servant."
"No," Arthur agreed, speaking slowly and clearly. "You're my assistant, which means you assist, if you are capable of such a thing."
"Oh, I'm capable," Merlin said. "I'm very capable."
Arthur's smirk re-emerged. "I'm sure you are," he agreed.
There was an off-licence opposite Arthur's hotel and being so close to an establishment that catered largely for business clients, it had a good selection of brandies and whiskies to choose from. Arthur was going to go in with Merlin, to favour him with his advice, but his phone rang just as they reached the door, so he stayed outside to take the call and Merlin went in alone.
He spent at least five minutes studying labels and trying to remember if Gaius had ever mentioned any particular favourite brand, but in the end he decided to go with the most expensive as a safe bet and took it to the till to pay.
The young girl behind the counter smiled as she scanned the bar code. "A present?" she asked. Merlin smiled back and nodded, pushing his debit card into the reader. "We have wrapping paper, too." she said.
"Oh, no, I don't, I mean, I haven't any sellotape and anyway..."
He trailed off and she laughed. "And that would be a bit girly would it?" she asked "No worries. Here." She picked up a gift tag from a box next to the till and tied it around the neck. "On the house," she said, putting the bottle in a paper bag and handing it back to him.
When he went outside, Arthur was still on the phone and didn't notice Merlin. "Yes, father," he said. "Umm... no, I can't say I've ever really thought about it." He paused, listening, and began to walk in small circles, his eyes on the pavement. "Yes... No, I'm fine. Yes. I mean..." There was another longish pause. "No! I never... Umm... Yes. Of course I know. I, I love you too." He closed his phone and put it away in his inside jacket pocket, but he didn't move. He stood still, staring blankly down at his feet.
"Anything wrong?" Merlin asked.
Arthur gave a start. "He said he loved me," he said, sounding perplexed.
"Well, that's natural, isn't it?"
"He's never said anything like that before."
Merlin walked over to his side. "You're an only child, aren't you?" he asked. Arthur nodded. "Well, of course he loves you. You're all he's got."
"Maybe, but he's never said it."
Such reserve was totally foreign to Merlin and he struggled to come up with an appropriate response. "Delayed shock?" he suggested.
"Maybe. Yes, I suppose it must be. But..." Arthur broke off, visibly gathered himself and rubbed his hands together. It was as if he had put on a mask. "Okay!" he said briskly. "Did you find something suitable?" Merlin pulled the bottle out of its bag to show him. "Very nice. I couldn't have picked better, myself."
"The girl gave me a gift tag," Merlin said, turning the bottle so Arthur could see. "Can I borrow a pen?"
With a shake of his head, Arthur extracted a silver pen from his pocket. "Honestly, what kind of a PA are you, that you don't even carry a pen? He handed it over. "Come on. Supper," he said and stepped out onto the street.
Merlin trailed behind as he struggled to write Gaius's name on the tag while he walked. Then he shoved the bottle and the pen in his back pack and hurried to catch up.
It was a very good meal and they hardly touched on the museum, or all the work that needed to be done now that it was to close. If at first there were a couple of occasions when Arthur appeared a little pensive, as soon as he noticed Merlin looking at him, he made an effort to relax and by the time they had finished their soup he seemed to have shaken off the effect of the phone call.
It might have been Arthur being a good host, or it might have been a simple decision that they should get to know each other better, but Arthur told Merlin a little about himself. He was only a year older than Merlin. Merlin had assumed he was more. He had read economics at Cambridge before going straight into the family business, but he had also worked there every holiday from the age of sixteen. "I started in the post room, of course," he said.
He could also tell a very entertaining story, many of them about the crazy things he had been caught doing, both at Pendragon's and at university. The tale of the desk-top-to-desk-top race across a large open-plan office, which ended with him on the floor under a pile of other young men and his head in a rubbish bin, had Merlin in stitches, while the accident with the punt on the River Cam almost made Merlin choke when he unadvisedly took a sip of wine just as Arthur reached his punchline.
In exchange, Merlin talked about Ealdor and his mother, about growing up in small village and busing eighteen miles to school. "At least, it was eighteen miles once we started secondary. That was a drag and secondary school was not my best decade," he admitted.
"What kind of place was it?" Arthur asked. "You weren't bullied, were you?"
Merlin grinned. "Why would you think that?" he asked. "It was a good school. And they had a zero tolerance for that sort of thing."
Arthur pantomimed dubious consideration by cocking his head on one side, closing his left eye and screwing up his nose. Merlin laughed. "No," he said. "It's just that I was awkward and gangly and didn't really fit in. Getting out and going to university in York was brilliant." He smiled. "Anyway, if anyone had tried anything, between us, Will and I would have knocked some sense into them. He's my best friend. He's in London now."
The conversation evolved and mutated as they ate. They talked about the upcoming long weekend. "I thought I'd take the opportunity for a look around the area," Arthur said. "Climb the Tor and maybe visit the gardens at Tregor Castle." He laughed self-consciously. "I bought a guide book at the tourist office. I don't think I've ever done that before. Not in the UK, anyway."
"No, I don't see you as the natural tourist," Merlin agreed.
"There's something about this part of the country, though, it's... I don't know." Arthur shook his head. "I like it here."
Over the main course the conversation reverted to the personal. Arthur expressed some envy of Merlin for having a mother. His own had died in childbirth and his father still mourned her. From their childhoods, they somehow found themselves comparing favourite films and books and that led naturally to music, philosophy, local history and, finally, gardening. At times Merlin almost suspected Arthur of flirting, which would have been nice, but was, he decided, improbable. It was the kind of conversation Merlin's mother called 'setting the world to rights' and when, at 10 o'clock, Arthur suggested it was time to move, Merlin couldn't believe that they had been there for so long.
They detoured via the bar and Merlin bought them each a pint, which they carried with them up to Arthur's room.
Merlin had never stayed in a hotel. His childhood holidays had been mostly spent at home, or occasionally camping. Later, when he went abroad with friends, they had always stayed in hostels, or self-catered houses when there was a large enough group. But, he knew enough to know that Arthur had probably rented the Camelot Hilton's equivalent of the penthouse.
The room was big, with a king sized bed at one end, a sofa at the other and enough clear floor space in between to feel comfortable walking around.
"TV's in here," Arthur said, opening the double doors of an oak-finished cabinet. "Grab a seat."
Merlin settled at one end of the sofa, placing his glass carefully on the coffee table in front of it and his back pack on the floor to the side.
Arthur put his own glass down, slipped off his jacket and tie, opened the wardrobe and hung them up. He picked up the remote, took his place next to Merlin and clicked on the television.
Loosening his own tie, Merlin pulled it off and stuffed it in the side pocket of his backpack.
They watched the last few minutes of the news at ten and a trailer for Horizon, then the Question Time theme music started. Merlin picked up his pint and took a drink.
The programme was coming from a Church of England middle school in Camlann and the panel was the usual mix - three compulsory politicians: Vivian Olafsdottir, the Culture Secretary, a Labour guy called Karl Godwyn, who was their spokesperson for trade and industry, and a Liberal Democrat undersecretary for the environment, or possibly for energy. The important thing was that they could all be guaranteed to disagree. The fourth member of the panel was a political comedian and protest songwriter of the old school, called Trickler Alined, and the last was Uther.
Since Gaius was, in Merlin's opinion, unable to function in the morning without the Today Programme on Radio 4, Merlin also got a daily dose of current affairs with his breakfast. He was not surprised, therefore, by the first question: the possible fall-out from the latest political scandal.
David Dimbleby turned to the politicians.
It was quite entertaining to watch the LibDem squirm in his attempt to condemn his colleague's behaviour without criticising the man himself.
When Uther's turn came, he hesitated in his answer. "Anybody who sets themselves up in public life must –" He cut himself off and swallowed before starting again. "It's not easy being under the lens of tabloid attention all the time. A man's private life is his own business."
"But this was hardly private, was it?" David Dimbleby prompted. "There are accusations of mismanagement of the public purse." Arthur snorted at that diplomatic phrasing.
"It is not right-" Uther began. "I mean... We don't have the facts in this particular case and it would be wrong to –" He paused again. "Sexual scandals of any sort are abhorrent to me. The prurience of the press in this country is a scandal in itself. If they will not reform themselves, something should be done to force them to do so."
There was a smattering of applause, but only a smattering. David Dimbleby stepped in before any of the other panellists could start, but even so he had to forcibly drown out the first indignant utterings of all three politicians. Trickler sat back in his chair with a huge grin.
"That is not the specific issue under discussion here, however," David Dimbleby said. He turned to glare down Karl Godwyn. "If we could return to the question –" He went on to do a good job of acting as referee, cutting off Vivian Olafdottir when she began to make party political points, instead of addressing the issue and, once the discussion had developed enough that there was no danger it would veer back to Uther's comment, asking members of the audience for their opinions, which he then referred back to the panel. When the camera panned back to show everybody at once, Merlin thought that Uther's mouth was pinched and he seemed to be sweating.
As the debate developed during the audience participation section, the politicians all had their axes to grind and did so with gusto. Uther managed to overcome his nerves enough to make one uncontroversial point, while Trickler made a couple of serious points, but also scored a few cheap laughs with his particular brand of sarcastic wit.
Uther's obvious nervousness made him appear more human to Merlin. "I've not have guessed your dad would get stage fright," he observed.
"He doesn't," Arthur said.
Such was his tone that Merlin grimaced and dropped it. "Did you see Trickler on Live at the Apollo?" he asked, instead.
Arthur turned his head to look at him. "I thought you said Gaius didn't have a TV."
Merlin laughed. "My mum does though. He was really funny. Did this whole skit about the class system and penguins."
"Penguins?"
"Yeah." Merlin tried to remember some of the jokes, but lost his nerve. "I guess you'd have to see it," he admitted. "I'm no good at jokes."
"You do yourself an injustice. I think you're hilarious."
"Gee, thanks. Just don't put that in the reference I'm going to ask you to write for me."
Arthur turned back to the screen. "I won't," he said.
The panel had moved onto the next question. It was even meatier than the first - the latest proposals for regulation of the banks, with particular reference to the Euro crisis, tax avoidance and global competition in banking. Arthur was watching with every indication of interest and Merlin sat back against the cushions where he could divide his attention between Arthur and the television if Arthur happened to glance his way.
Since he had started working for Arthur, he had always been busy when in Arthur's company. Now, with Arthur's attention elsewhere, his own returned to the conundrum of Arthur's possible magic.
He consciously relaxed, allowing his awareness to gather in and flow down his left arm. The pads of his fingers tingled. He casually placed his hand on the cushion by his side and a tendril of feeling expanded out from his fingertips, across the space between them.
On the screen, David Dimbleby called upon the politicians to address the question first, although Trickler butted in and got a cheer for his downright condemnation of all bankers.
When the laughter died down Karl Godwyn began, "It almost makes a pleasant change to have a whole profession less popular than politicians, but in all seriousness…"
Merlin tuned him out. Directing his magic towards Arthur was easier than before, possibly because it was only a single wisp, rather than an expansion in all directions. Within moments the same contact he had felt in Miss Kay's garden clicked into place, but this time it didn't cause shock and his bones didn't vibrate.
The politicians had finished making their points and Merlin had missed them entirely. Dimbleby moved on from the Liberal Democrat, who seemed to be called Alan something, to Uther. Once again Uther seemed to be having difficulty formulating his thoughts. He started to say something about business demanding hard decisions, but stopped mid-sentence and instead made some bland statement about the difficulty of predicting the markets. His mouth twisted as he spoke and he put his hand to his throat, as if he were having to force the words out.
Merlin concentrated on the whisper of a thread of a promise that extended from his neck, shoulder, arm, hand, to Arthur.
What met it was gentle - a sense of warmth, accompanied by a sensation of familiarity, which was a little bit crazy and a lot unexpected. Having no clear idea what magic would feel like if he touched it in someone else, Merlin allowed his awareness to drift across Arthur's hand, searching for something more active. He found it. Beneath the warmth there was a discordant pattern playing through Arthur's being that jarred at Merlin. It jangled - deep, discordant bells which squirmed through his understanding, like, like embarrassment, or fear. It took him a few minutes to recognise that Arthur was suffering from the beginning of panic and was firmly stomping down on the emotion.
He allowed his magic to spread around Arthur's wrist and enfold it, like a hand clasp. In response, he felt Arthur relax and the sensation of serene warmth, with a golden glow, began to rise from under the fractured layer, until it almost drowned out the other colours.
The essence of Arthur was seductive. It drew Merlin with a gentle rhythm and a promise that felt like a warm duvet on a lazy morning in bed. It offered him a haven, a nest, a familiarity that was full to overflowing with relaxation and challenge, but he knew it wasn't magic. He didn't know what it was he felt in the texture of Arthur, but he was now certain that if Arthur did have magic, it was in hibernation - a creature curled up secure and safe in a warm burrow.
With some deliberation he avoided touching even the surface of Arthur's thoughts. That would have felt like an invasion of his privacy. The colours of him had already betrayed more than Merlin had intended to discover or that he felt Arthur would feel happy with him knowing.
The connection broke when Arthur sat forward in his seat and Merlin abruptly pulled his magic back. The shock brought him to full awareness of what had been happening on the television.
Arthur was staring at the screen. He shook his head. "Come on, Dad, get it together," he muttered.
Merlin sat up straight and picked up his pint to cover the move. "Do you think he's okay?" he asked.
"Why do you say that?"
"It's what I thought you were saying." Merlin studied Uther. "I really would never have pegged your dad for stage fright," he said again.
"I told you, he doesn't get stage fright. I've seen him stand up and speak in front of huge gatherings at business dinners."
"Maybe it's because he's on TV?" Merlin suggested. "That's pretty scary, if you think about it."
"Oh, for goodness sake! He's been interviewed a hundred times. He doesn't get nervous. He doesn't fumble."
Sitting back, Merlin rested his glass on his thigh and ran his other hand through his hair. "Well he is now," he said.
Arthur ignored him.
The camera moved away from Uther and didn't return while audience members were called upon for their views. Those who spoke were well informed and made good points, one of which had Godwyn momentarily backed up against the metaphorical ropes.
There was a brief pause before David Dimbleby called for the third question, which came from one of the teachers at the school. He asked about the Church of England's stance on gay marriage, given the huge divide between the attitudes of the Western and the African congregations.
"Oh God," said Arthur, closing his eyes and falling back against the cushions.
Dimbleby went straight to Uther, who started to speak immediately. "There is something fundamentally- No, no, that's not what I mean to say. Two men together like that is an abom-" He bit his lip, grabbed the glass on the desk in front of him, raised it to his mouth and swallowed thirstily. His hand was shaking. When he put the glass down, he took a deep breath and released it, glanced around at the rest of the panel, took another breath and, as if each word took a huge effort of will, bit out, "I have nothing to say on this matter, except that marriage is a sacred rite, the natural order of which is one man and one woman." His hand was still clenched tightly around his water glass and his eyes were wide.
Arthur opened his eyes. "Well, that was predictable," he muttered. "More absolute than usual, but on the whole depressingly familiar. At least he didn't finish that first sentence."
"You don't agree with him?" Merlin asked.
"Not very likely to, am I?" Arthur replied. "Although, personally..." He shrugged, "A Civil Partnership would have been enough for me. But it's important to some people and I don't see why they can't get married."
Merlin turned his head to stare at Arthur. "Are you gay?" he asked. "I'd never have guessed you were gay."
Looking across at him, Arthur smirked. "Then you need a new battery for your gaydar. Appearances, Merlin, almost by definition, are deceiving." The smirk broadened into a full grin. "Except in your case, of course. I knew you were gay within a day of meeting you."
"But, but you never said anything."
"Why would I?" Arthur sounded almost offended. "I didn't know you." He shrugged again and smiled, but his voice was decidedly patronising when he added, "We're not at university; there's no obligation to go around making declarations. Not in real life."
Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't think of anything that wasn't totally stupid, so he shut it again. The mildly amused, slightly irritated expression in Arthur's eyes suggested that it was a wise choice.
Merlin turned back to the screen where the politicians were all agreeing that the law made the situation very clear. The LibDem and the Conservative both claimed that they were not qualified to pass judgement on the Archbishop of Canterbury in his performance of his office. Godwyn was slightly more outspoken in support of gay rights, but it seemed to Merlin that it was mostly said for effect, because he felt such statements were expected of him. Trickler, who had been kept in check by Dimbleby while the others gave their opinions, launched a diatribe on hypocrisy, aimed at the other panellists. First he quoted their individual past voting records on the issue and then questioned the relevance of an established church in the twenty-first century. In spite of the laughs he got, Dimbleby quickly called him to order.
The camera panned away from Trickler and stopped for a few moments on Uther. He was clenching his jaw and there was a pained expression on his face. Merlin sat forward abruptly. It might have been a trick of the studio lights, but they were experts, they would take measures to prevent red-eye. If red-eye was even possible on television, where there was no flash to cause it.
"What?" Arthur asked.
Merlin sat back. "Nothing," he said. "I thought I saw something, but I was wrong."
Then came a question about the funding of heritage projects.
"You are referring to the recent case at the British Museum?" David Dimbleby asked. The questioner confirmed that that was the issue she had in mind and expanded a little on her initial question with an observation about rich donors dictating terms and the potential for organisations charged with preserving the nation's heritage being compromised. With the reason for their recent visit to Miss Kay in mind, Merlin snorted in agreement.
Dimbleby looked around the panel, hesitated on Vivian Olafsdottir, but said, "Uther Pendragon, you have made a number of large donations to some of our national galleries, I believe?"
"Heritage is a difficult word," Uther said. The camera cut to David Dimbleby nodding encouragement. Uther frowned, his brow knotting. "The cultural heritage of this country is all very well, but family heritage is what matters. I believe that should always take precedence."
The camera cut again to David Dimbleby who seemed interested but puzzled by this introduction to what should have been a straightforward comment about funding for the arts and culture from the non-politico on the panel. "Family heritage?" he asked.
"Heritage is personal," Uther said. "Family heritage is the concept that underlies the whole idea of public funding for the arts. Many of the great museum collections and all the national Trust and English Heritage properties started in private hands. And if a time comes when the public purse no longer values these treasures, then it is time to return them to the private sphere. When a man is robbed of his birth right, he is entitled to take whatever measures are required to reassert those rights."
"I don't understand," Dimbleby said.
"Then allow me to explain." Uther's voice was getting stronger with each statement and there was no hesitation in his manner now. "When public funding is withdrawn, it is a declaration that government is not interested in maintaining cultural establishments."
That resulted in a smattering of applause and Dimbleby asked, "Are you suggesting that in those cases it is up to private funding to take over and fill the gap?"
"If there are people willing to subsidise such activities," Uther agreed, "they are at liberty to throw away their money as they see fit, but in my opinion, if those with control of public monies don't prioritise museums and galleries, and they are incapable of supporting themselves by charging for entrance, then they have no place in our society."
The applause of a moment before was replaced by muttering and a single audible boo. David Dimbleby appeared torn between surprise at the nature of Uther's view and delight that the question had turned up such a controversial opinion. The other panellists all started speaking at once, contradicting Uther to greater or lesser degrees, but Dimbleby forced them to shut up. "But you, yourself, have been instrumental in saving a number of important works of art for the nation," he said.
"Of course I have," Uther agreed. "It's good PR. And that was just money. They didn't matter to me. I am dealing with a situation at the moment that is far more significant. And today I put in motion legal measures to take back ownership of a building that has been totally neglected by the public bodies that were supposed to support it. It is part of my family's heritage and I won't suffer to see its potential wasted. In my view, pride in family will always outweigh any argument about the cultural heritage of the nation."
"O-kay," Dimbleby said. "I'm not sure of the case you refer to, but I don't think that was what the questioner was asking. Vivian Olafsdottir, as culture secretary, what do you say to the charge that the Director of the British Museum was very much at fault when he said-"
Merlin turned away from the television, to Arthur. "What does he mean?" he demanded.
Arthur was still staring at the screen and he looked as bewildered as Merlin felt. He shook his head. "I don't know."
"He was talking about the Folly, wasn't he?"
"I don't know," Arthur said again. "He hasn't said anything to me." He dragged his eyes away from the television. "It could be a different building," he said. "It must be. Pendragon's is involved in scores of projects."
"How many of them would come up in reply to a question about arts funding?" Merlin asked. "How many of them would your father claim was part of your family's heritage?"
Arthur shook his head. "None that I know of," he admitted. "But it could be some project I'm not involved with. It must be."
"That's not what it sounds like."
"I don't know what he's talking about," Arthur insisted and Merlin believed him.
On the television, Karl Godwyn was speaking. He told a personal story about his own introduction to the British Museum, on a school trip, and roundly condemned the sentiments Uther had expressed. When it appeared he was about to expand his criticism, David Dimbleby called him to a halt and steered the discussion away from the Pendragons and their business, back to the original question, which proved lively enough on its own. Merlin sat back in the sofa and glared at the screen.
The other politicians co-operated with the chair and picked up on various points Godwyn had made, not responding to Uther's metaphorically tossed gauntlet. The first audience speaker did, however, and that led to Trickler doing what he had proven he did best and raising both laughter and cheers.
While they watched, David Dimbleby seamlessly drew the question to a close without calling on Uther to speak again. Merlin cast occasional glances Arthur's way, but could not read anything from him. Arthur looked calm. He was sitting with his half-drunk pint of beer in his hand and resting easily on the arm of the sofa.
Merlin's own brain was churning. He wanted to get up and pace. He turned in his seat, so he was half facing Arthur along the sofa. The movement drew Arthur's eye. "You'll ask him tomorrow though, won't you?" Merlin said.
Arthur nodded. "Yes. You can be assured of that. I'll ask Geoffrey, too." He shifted himself, turning towards Merlin. "If anybody knows anything, he will," he said. "I can't believe it's the Folly, though." He held Merlin's eyes, as if willing Merlin to agree. "Why would he send me to oversee the project, if he wasn't serious?" Merlin opened his mouth, but Arthur kept talking. "I don't believe it. I can't believe it." He smiled slightly, although it looked forced. "Besides anything else, if it was The Folly he wouldn't announce it on national television. It has to be something else. Something I don't know about." He leant sideways and put his glass down on the coffee table. "There's nothing can be done tonight, anyway. I'll call Geoffrey, and my father, first thing. Okay?"
Merlin nodded reluctantly. There was indeed nothing to be gained from arguing, when Arthur had already promised to make enquiries. Arthur had already turned back to focus on the programme again. After a moment, Merlin followed suit.
The debate had moved on to the next question and they had missed the beginning of it. "– healthy work-life balance," a woman in the audience was saying.
The camera cut back to the panel and centred on David Dimbleby. "As a business man yourself, with a large number of employees, do you have a comment on that, Uther Pendragon?" Dimbleby asked.
The camera panned across and settled on Uther. He stared straight out of the screen, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. He began to speak, slowly at first but his words speeding up as he talked, until he was hardly drawing breath between sentences. "I married my wife for her connections and she knew it. At that point in my career I had no time or energy to spare for a work-life balance. I worked twenty hours a day, building a business, pushing the old guard out, forcing a creaking, staggering company into the 20th century. Yes, there were casualties. There were people who couldn't hack it. There were other companies that were failing, or could be made to fail, and they had to be acquired and forced into health. Work-life balance? Anyone here who has made any sort of success of their lives knows that's just a whining excuse used by the weak willed and lazy to hide behind."
At last he paused for breath. The rest of the panel was sitting in shocked silence, as was the audience. Then the comedian jeered from Uther's right, saying, "And what does Mrs Pendragon think of that attitude? If you still have a Mrs Pendragon, that is."
There was some almost nervous laughter from the audience and a couple of the other panel members started to smile.
But then it got worse when Uther began to cry. At first it was a single tear, caught by the merciless camera and the bright lights, but within a few moments his breath was hitching. "My wife was always full of dreams and stupidities. I didn't have time for her nonsense."
It was almost too painful to watch. What it would be doing to Arthur, Merlin couldn't begin to imagine. Karl Godwyn leaned forward as if to say something, but David Dimbleby held him back with a gesture. This was too good to be spoiled by advising Uther to shut up. "I was ambitious," Uther said. "So what if I cut corners? If I bent a few rules? All's fair in business. The government is constantly putting barriers in the way of entrepreneurs and wealth creators."
Now David Dimbleby did say something. "It sounds like your definition of a wealth creator is someone who only creates wealth for themselves."
"Of course," Uther said with such certainty that he made it a virtue. Although the tears continued to form and slide down his cheeks, he made no attempt to brush them away. It was as if he didn't realise they were there.
"Are you saying you broke the law in building your business empire?" Vivian Olafsdottir asked. She sounded awed and Merlin could only imagine she had asked the question so that Uther could deny it.
"Of course not," Uther said. His voice began to hitch. "But one can't conduct business in the, the environment, that this government, all the ones before it have created with, with their regulations and directives."
Trickler looked like he'd woken up on Christmas morning to find all his wishes granted. "And while you were breaking-" David Dimbleby interrupted and Trickler nodded, correcting himself, but with such emphasis on the word that it dripped with sarcasm, "-bending the law in pursuit of power, what did your wife do?"
"She died," Uther said, shocking the room into silent again. Trickler looked momentarily shamefaced and muttered, "I'm sorry," but it was overridden by Uther, who said, "She withered away like a flower starved of sunlight." He was crying steadily now. Bowing his head, he stared at his hands, clasped on the desk in front of him, but the microphone picked up his words when he murmured, "And now my son hates me."
Staring at the television screen, Arthur whispered, "I don't."
Finally, Uther began to sob. He raised his hands and covered his face.
Merlin watched in horror. Eventually, he drew a deep breath. "Oh my," he said.
Arthur's expression was one of total disbelief. When Merlin tried to speak to him, he didn't react. David Dimbleby said some words that Merlin didn't hear. There was some sporadic applause. The studio lights went down and the credits began to roll.
Arthur shook himself out of his stupor. He collapsed back into his seat. "What the fuck?" he breathed.
Merlin got up, crossed the room and fetched a glass from the dresser. He opened the mini fridge and studied the bottles of beer and small cartons of orange juice on the shelf. Closing the door again, he went to his backpack and retrieved the bottle of cognac. Pouring out a generous measure, he pressed it into Arthur's hands. Arthur took it, lifted it to his lips and drank it all down. Behind him, Merlin heard the continuity announcer making an apology for the abrupt curtailment of the previous programme.
Arthur gave a shudder and grimaced. Putting the glass on the coffee table he said, "I have to go to Camlann." He looked at Merlin and made to get up. "I have to go, now."
Merlin put his hands on Arthur's shoulders and pushed him back into his seat. "You can't drive," he said. "You've drunk too much." Arthur glared at him and glared at the empty glass. "Even before that," Merlin said. "You're over the limit and if you didn't get stopped, you could still have an accident." Seeing something in Arthur's eyes, he added, "And so have I. So I can't drive you."
Dragging up a smirk from somewhere, even if it was a half-hearted attempt, Arthur said, "As if I'd let you drive my car."
"You can't drive," Merlin repeated, moving around the coffee table and dropping into the seat next to him. He picked up the remote and turned off the television. "And even if you did, what could you do tonight? Your dad will have minders with him, won't he? They'll look after him."
"He was being driven back to London straight after," Arthur said. "Yes, Blackwell will look after him. Get him home."
"Well there's no point in you haring off to Camlann then, is there?" Merlin said. "And there's no point in getting to London before he gets there."
"I, I need to call Geoffrey," Arthur said. He looked around the room and patted at his trouser pockets. Merlin jumped up and went to the wardrobe. He opened it and dug in the pockets of Arthur's jacket until he found his mobile. When he turned around, Arthur was standing behind him and Merlin handed the phone to him. Arthur took it and Merlin went back to the sofa, to give him the illusion of privacy.
Arthur sank down onto the edge of the bed, his thumbs skimming over the screen. When he raised it to his ear he didn't have long to wait for an answer because almost immediately he said, "Yes, it's me. You saw it then?" There was a pause. "I have no idea. Did you know…?" Once again the person on the other end of the phone, Geoffrey, Merlin presumed, must have been speaking. After a moment Arthur said, "No, I can't drive tonight. I, I could call a taxi?" Another pause and he said, "No. Um. Well, in that case, I suppose he won't get home until three at the earliest. You'll be there?" There was a longer pause as he listened and nodded, interrupting occasionally with half formed objections, but Geoffrey seemed to be talking him down. Eventually he drew a deep breath and let it out again. "Thank God. Yes... Yes, thank you. A couple of hours. About four. No, I know. Thank you. Yes, I'll see you then. Good night."
His arm dropped to his lap and his entire body slumped. Merlin got up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "What time are you leaving?" he asked.
Arthur looked up. "Geoffrey's spoken to Blackwell," he said. "Blackwell will get him out of there and into the car. I know how fast I metabolise alcohol. I'll leave at four. I'll be in London by 5:30. Geoffrey's going to be there, at the house and is arranged for our doctor to be there, too."
"Okay," Merlin agreed. "So you'd better get some sleep then. I'll, I'll stay, if you don't mind. I can sleep on the sofa. I, I..."
Dragging up a weary smile, Arthur nodded. "Yes, thank you," he said. He put his phone down on the bedside table. "I think that sofa pulls out," he said. "I saw some bedding in the cupboard over there."
"Right. Well... You get some sleep then. And I'll set my alarm for, what, 3:30?"
"Yeah," Arthur agreed. He looked ready to drop, so Merlin knelt down and pulled his shoes off for him. Arthur smiled weakly. "I'll be okay," he said. "I can get myself to bed by myself."
"Of course you can," Merlin agreed, clambering to his feet. "I'll just be over here, if you need anything. Sleep well." He went over to the door and turned off the main lights, dug out the spare duvet from the cupboard Arthur had indicated, but didn't bother trying to figure out how to turn the sofa into a bed. He simply shucked off his shoes, socks and trousers, and curled himself up under the covers.
"You too," Arthur said.
Pendragon's Folly, Chapter 6
Pairing: M/A, eventually.
Characters: in this chapter - Merlin, Arthur, Uther.
Rating: PG maybe even U
Chapter Word Count: 7,600
Warnings: No sex
Summary: There's an out of work wizard, a museum, a sizeable donation that turns it into a building site, suspicious happenings and magic. A sort of 'take your fandom to work' story.
Author's note 1: When it comes to romance, this story is the definition of 'slow burn'.
Comments are always greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Author's note 2: More thanks than I can say to my beta, plot wrangler and best friend,
sparrow2000. And many, many thanks to DJ for (hopefully) catching the typos we missed. If you spot any more, please do let me know.Disclaimer: I write fan fic. All the characters from the Merlin series are the property of the BBC and Shine, etc. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this writing.
Chapter 5
Arthur spent the first part of the afternoon on the phone to each member of the Board of Trustees, explaining about the accident and the resultant need to close the museum. Merlin drafted a short press statement for the Saturday edition of the Camelot Echo.
"What about the Museum Club?" Merlin asked. "You've seen what Gwen does. Those kids are learning stuff. They come every weekend."
Arthur pausing in his search through the papers spread across his desk. "They're a very visible activity," he agreed. "Yes, we don't want the bad publicity from closing them down with no notice. And Gwen's contract has another five months to run. We can hire a portacabin for them." He pulled up google on his laptop and looked down the list of links his search had produced. With a sigh, he closed the window again. "Pendragon's has clout. I'll ask someone at the company to get the best price. We can put it out front."
"I thought we couldn't call upon Pendragon's for help."
"Don't quibble, Merlin."
Arthur made a phone call, amended Merlin's press statement and sent it through to the Echo at 3 o'clock. He then sent Merlin out to fetch them a late lunch and, while they ate, they sat at Arthur's desk planning the next necessary steps.
"With the bank holiday on Monday, we need to get as much sorted today and tomorrow as we can," Arthur said. "The collections can move to the Riverside warehouse sooner than we'd allowed for. I need to see Leon about that."
"Gaius might want to set up an office there, then. He hasn't got a car, but the number 35 goes out that way, so... Why Leon?"
Studying the list of issues and tasks, Arthur said, "With the building empty, Leon can get his crew in here earlier, so the works schedule will change. It'll give him more leeway, which he'll be glad of." He caught Merlin's eye. "I know," he said. "We really wanted to keep it open as long as possible, but it was going to have to close for a while and it really isn't safe."
Merlin gathered the empty packaging from their sandwiches and threw it in the bin. "Yeah, I know," he said.
"How long will it take to move the collections?" Arthur asked.
Merlin pulled up the project plan on his laptop. "We scheduled the move of the stores to start at the end of next month and allowed three weeks."
"Alright. Move that forward to start next week. If Leon's got a couple of trustworthy people he can spare, we can probably do it quicker than that, too. But assuming three weeks, how much more flex does that put into the building contract?"
Merlin made the change and studied the result. "Four weeks. There are some things that can't shift."
"Send me that file, will you? I'll talk to Leon. You go and explain what we've decided to Gaius. See if he has anything to add."
They left the office together, but outside Gaius's workroom Arthur paused. "Are you going to watch Question Time tonight?" he asked.
Merlin smiled. "I'd quite like to," he admitted, "But Gaius doesn't have a television."
Arthur boggled. "He doesn't?"
"No. He's got a real top end stereo, but he mostly listens to the radio."
"Wow, well, uh, do you want to come and watch it? At the hotel? With me?" Arthur asked, adding, "You don't have to. It's not part of your job or anything."
Merlin's smile broadened. "Thanks. I'd really like that."
"Okay then." Arthur looked at his watch. "It starts at 10:30. There's still a lot of work to do, but we could get some supper first? "
"Thanks. Okay," Merlin said, adding cheerfully, "Do I get overtime for that?"
A smile tugging at the corner of Arthur's mouth. "No, you get supper." He shifted back to business. "This meeting will take a couple of hours. Once you've spoken to Gaius, I want you to work out a detailed schedule for moving the displays first and then the stores. We'll need specialists to remove the display cases in the Ticket Office. See if Gaius has any recommendations and if not, try google, but I want a reference. Someone Gaius can phone and talk to."
The meeting with Gaius involved Gwen too, since she was in the workroom with him. They were both resigned and a little depressed, but Gwen brightened considerably when Merlin told her that Arthur had a plan to keep the Museum Club open.
She left to go through her programme, so she could work out which items from the collections she wanted to keep close at hand. Gaius didn't know of any suitable tradesmen, but he said he had a few contacts at other museums and offered to call them, so Merlin went back to his computer to start on a removal plan and listen to Gwen's thoughts as they worked.
It was nearly 7pm when he left the Ladies Waiting Room, having completed an inventory of the items in the displays that would need to be locked away in the safe at the Town Hall, and headed up the stairs.
Above him Arthur came out onto the balcony. Their eyes met and Merlin smiled. He thought Arthur smiled back, although it was sometimes difficult to tell with Arthur, who more often smiled with his eyes than with his mouth.
"There you are," Arthur called. "I was coming to look for you." They met halfway along the balcony. "You still on for supper?"
"Sure," Merlin said. "Just let me put this in the office," he held up his notepad, "and I'm all yours."
Arthur smirked and Merlin felt his face heat up, but Arthur didn't say anything. He merely nodded and opened the door into Gaius's office, to turn off the lights.
Merlin dropped off his notepad, shoved his work laptop into his back pack and together they walked down the stairs and through the Ticket Office to the staff exit.
"It's only a few minutes' walk," Arthur said when they reached the pavement. "This way." He turned right.
"Oh, good, because I need to stop off at an off-licence on the way. I need to buy a bottle of good brandy. It's Gaius's birthday tomorrow."
"Is it?" Arthur asked. "I'd better get him something, too, then."
"Not brandy," Merlin said firmly. "That's my idea. You'll have to come up with something of your own."
"Cognac," Arthur said. "If you're looking for something good. How about a book? You can come with me to Smith's tomorrow and help me find something."
"I don't suppose I'll get overtime for that, either?"
Arthur laughed. "What is this thing you've got with overtime?" he asked. "I pay you very well, you know. Things like choosing a present are part of your normal duties."
Grinning, Merlin retorted, "Hey! Not your servant."
"No," Arthur agreed, speaking slowly and clearly. "You're my assistant, which means you assist, if you are capable of such a thing."
"Oh, I'm capable," Merlin said. "I'm very capable."
Arthur's smirk re-emerged. "I'm sure you are," he agreed.
There was an off-licence opposite Arthur's hotel and being so close to an establishment that catered largely for business clients, it had a good selection of brandies and whiskies to choose from. Arthur was going to go in with Merlin, to favour him with his advice, but his phone rang just as they reached the door, so he stayed outside to take the call and Merlin went in alone.
He spent at least five minutes studying labels and trying to remember if Gaius had ever mentioned any particular favourite brand, but in the end he decided to go with the most expensive as a safe bet and took it to the till to pay.
The young girl behind the counter smiled as she scanned the bar code. "A present?" she asked. Merlin smiled back and nodded, pushing his debit card into the reader. "We have wrapping paper, too." she said.
"Oh, no, I don't, I mean, I haven't any sellotape and anyway..."
He trailed off and she laughed. "And that would be a bit girly would it?" she asked "No worries. Here." She picked up a gift tag from a box next to the till and tied it around the neck. "On the house," she said, putting the bottle in a paper bag and handing it back to him.
When he went outside, Arthur was still on the phone and didn't notice Merlin. "Yes, father," he said. "Umm... no, I can't say I've ever really thought about it." He paused, listening, and began to walk in small circles, his eyes on the pavement. "Yes... No, I'm fine. Yes. I mean..." There was another longish pause. "No! I never... Umm... Yes. Of course I know. I, I love you too." He closed his phone and put it away in his inside jacket pocket, but he didn't move. He stood still, staring blankly down at his feet.
"Anything wrong?" Merlin asked.
Arthur gave a start. "He said he loved me," he said, sounding perplexed.
"Well, that's natural, isn't it?"
"He's never said anything like that before."
Merlin walked over to his side. "You're an only child, aren't you?" he asked. Arthur nodded. "Well, of course he loves you. You're all he's got."
"Maybe, but he's never said it."
Such reserve was totally foreign to Merlin and he struggled to come up with an appropriate response. "Delayed shock?" he suggested.
"Maybe. Yes, I suppose it must be. But..." Arthur broke off, visibly gathered himself and rubbed his hands together. It was as if he had put on a mask. "Okay!" he said briskly. "Did you find something suitable?" Merlin pulled the bottle out of its bag to show him. "Very nice. I couldn't have picked better, myself."
"The girl gave me a gift tag," Merlin said, turning the bottle so Arthur could see. "Can I borrow a pen?"
With a shake of his head, Arthur extracted a silver pen from his pocket. "Honestly, what kind of a PA are you, that you don't even carry a pen? He handed it over. "Come on. Supper," he said and stepped out onto the street.
Merlin trailed behind as he struggled to write Gaius's name on the tag while he walked. Then he shoved the bottle and the pen in his back pack and hurried to catch up.
It was a very good meal and they hardly touched on the museum, or all the work that needed to be done now that it was to close. If at first there were a couple of occasions when Arthur appeared a little pensive, as soon as he noticed Merlin looking at him, he made an effort to relax and by the time they had finished their soup he seemed to have shaken off the effect of the phone call.
It might have been Arthur being a good host, or it might have been a simple decision that they should get to know each other better, but Arthur told Merlin a little about himself. He was only a year older than Merlin. Merlin had assumed he was more. He had read economics at Cambridge before going straight into the family business, but he had also worked there every holiday from the age of sixteen. "I started in the post room, of course," he said.
He could also tell a very entertaining story, many of them about the crazy things he had been caught doing, both at Pendragon's and at university. The tale of the desk-top-to-desk-top race across a large open-plan office, which ended with him on the floor under a pile of other young men and his head in a rubbish bin, had Merlin in stitches, while the accident with the punt on the River Cam almost made Merlin choke when he unadvisedly took a sip of wine just as Arthur reached his punchline.
In exchange, Merlin talked about Ealdor and his mother, about growing up in small village and busing eighteen miles to school. "At least, it was eighteen miles once we started secondary. That was a drag and secondary school was not my best decade," he admitted.
"What kind of place was it?" Arthur asked. "You weren't bullied, were you?"
Merlin grinned. "Why would you think that?" he asked. "It was a good school. And they had a zero tolerance for that sort of thing."
Arthur pantomimed dubious consideration by cocking his head on one side, closing his left eye and screwing up his nose. Merlin laughed. "No," he said. "It's just that I was awkward and gangly and didn't really fit in. Getting out and going to university in York was brilliant." He smiled. "Anyway, if anyone had tried anything, between us, Will and I would have knocked some sense into them. He's my best friend. He's in London now."
The conversation evolved and mutated as they ate. They talked about the upcoming long weekend. "I thought I'd take the opportunity for a look around the area," Arthur said. "Climb the Tor and maybe visit the gardens at Tregor Castle." He laughed self-consciously. "I bought a guide book at the tourist office. I don't think I've ever done that before. Not in the UK, anyway."
"No, I don't see you as the natural tourist," Merlin agreed.
"There's something about this part of the country, though, it's... I don't know." Arthur shook his head. "I like it here."
Over the main course the conversation reverted to the personal. Arthur expressed some envy of Merlin for having a mother. His own had died in childbirth and his father still mourned her. From their childhoods, they somehow found themselves comparing favourite films and books and that led naturally to music, philosophy, local history and, finally, gardening. At times Merlin almost suspected Arthur of flirting, which would have been nice, but was, he decided, improbable. It was the kind of conversation Merlin's mother called 'setting the world to rights' and when, at 10 o'clock, Arthur suggested it was time to move, Merlin couldn't believe that they had been there for so long.
They detoured via the bar and Merlin bought them each a pint, which they carried with them up to Arthur's room.
Merlin had never stayed in a hotel. His childhood holidays had been mostly spent at home, or occasionally camping. Later, when he went abroad with friends, they had always stayed in hostels, or self-catered houses when there was a large enough group. But, he knew enough to know that Arthur had probably rented the Camelot Hilton's equivalent of the penthouse.
The room was big, with a king sized bed at one end, a sofa at the other and enough clear floor space in between to feel comfortable walking around.
"TV's in here," Arthur said, opening the double doors of an oak-finished cabinet. "Grab a seat."
Merlin settled at one end of the sofa, placing his glass carefully on the coffee table in front of it and his back pack on the floor to the side.
Arthur put his own glass down, slipped off his jacket and tie, opened the wardrobe and hung them up. He picked up the remote, took his place next to Merlin and clicked on the television.
Loosening his own tie, Merlin pulled it off and stuffed it in the side pocket of his backpack.
They watched the last few minutes of the news at ten and a trailer for Horizon, then the Question Time theme music started. Merlin picked up his pint and took a drink.
The programme was coming from a Church of England middle school in Camlann and the panel was the usual mix - three compulsory politicians: Vivian Olafsdottir, the Culture Secretary, a Labour guy called Karl Godwyn, who was their spokesperson for trade and industry, and a Liberal Democrat undersecretary for the environment, or possibly for energy. The important thing was that they could all be guaranteed to disagree. The fourth member of the panel was a political comedian and protest songwriter of the old school, called Trickler Alined, and the last was Uther.
Since Gaius was, in Merlin's opinion, unable to function in the morning without the Today Programme on Radio 4, Merlin also got a daily dose of current affairs with his breakfast. He was not surprised, therefore, by the first question: the possible fall-out from the latest political scandal.
David Dimbleby turned to the politicians.
It was quite entertaining to watch the LibDem squirm in his attempt to condemn his colleague's behaviour without criticising the man himself.
When Uther's turn came, he hesitated in his answer. "Anybody who sets themselves up in public life must –" He cut himself off and swallowed before starting again. "It's not easy being under the lens of tabloid attention all the time. A man's private life is his own business."
"But this was hardly private, was it?" David Dimbleby prompted. "There are accusations of mismanagement of the public purse." Arthur snorted at that diplomatic phrasing.
"It is not right-" Uther began. "I mean... We don't have the facts in this particular case and it would be wrong to –" He paused again. "Sexual scandals of any sort are abhorrent to me. The prurience of the press in this country is a scandal in itself. If they will not reform themselves, something should be done to force them to do so."
There was a smattering of applause, but only a smattering. David Dimbleby stepped in before any of the other panellists could start, but even so he had to forcibly drown out the first indignant utterings of all three politicians. Trickler sat back in his chair with a huge grin.
"That is not the specific issue under discussion here, however," David Dimbleby said. He turned to glare down Karl Godwyn. "If we could return to the question –" He went on to do a good job of acting as referee, cutting off Vivian Olafdottir when she began to make party political points, instead of addressing the issue and, once the discussion had developed enough that there was no danger it would veer back to Uther's comment, asking members of the audience for their opinions, which he then referred back to the panel. When the camera panned back to show everybody at once, Merlin thought that Uther's mouth was pinched and he seemed to be sweating.
As the debate developed during the audience participation section, the politicians all had their axes to grind and did so with gusto. Uther managed to overcome his nerves enough to make one uncontroversial point, while Trickler made a couple of serious points, but also scored a few cheap laughs with his particular brand of sarcastic wit.
Uther's obvious nervousness made him appear more human to Merlin. "I've not have guessed your dad would get stage fright," he observed.
"He doesn't," Arthur said.
Such was his tone that Merlin grimaced and dropped it. "Did you see Trickler on Live at the Apollo?" he asked, instead.
Arthur turned his head to look at him. "I thought you said Gaius didn't have a TV."
Merlin laughed. "My mum does though. He was really funny. Did this whole skit about the class system and penguins."
"Penguins?"
"Yeah." Merlin tried to remember some of the jokes, but lost his nerve. "I guess you'd have to see it," he admitted. "I'm no good at jokes."
"You do yourself an injustice. I think you're hilarious."
"Gee, thanks. Just don't put that in the reference I'm going to ask you to write for me."
Arthur turned back to the screen. "I won't," he said.
The panel had moved onto the next question. It was even meatier than the first - the latest proposals for regulation of the banks, with particular reference to the Euro crisis, tax avoidance and global competition in banking. Arthur was watching with every indication of interest and Merlin sat back against the cushions where he could divide his attention between Arthur and the television if Arthur happened to glance his way.
Since he had started working for Arthur, he had always been busy when in Arthur's company. Now, with Arthur's attention elsewhere, his own returned to the conundrum of Arthur's possible magic.
He consciously relaxed, allowing his awareness to gather in and flow down his left arm. The pads of his fingers tingled. He casually placed his hand on the cushion by his side and a tendril of feeling expanded out from his fingertips, across the space between them.
On the screen, David Dimbleby called upon the politicians to address the question first, although Trickler butted in and got a cheer for his downright condemnation of all bankers.
When the laughter died down Karl Godwyn began, "It almost makes a pleasant change to have a whole profession less popular than politicians, but in all seriousness…"
Merlin tuned him out. Directing his magic towards Arthur was easier than before, possibly because it was only a single wisp, rather than an expansion in all directions. Within moments the same contact he had felt in Miss Kay's garden clicked into place, but this time it didn't cause shock and his bones didn't vibrate.
The politicians had finished making their points and Merlin had missed them entirely. Dimbleby moved on from the Liberal Democrat, who seemed to be called Alan something, to Uther. Once again Uther seemed to be having difficulty formulating his thoughts. He started to say something about business demanding hard decisions, but stopped mid-sentence and instead made some bland statement about the difficulty of predicting the markets. His mouth twisted as he spoke and he put his hand to his throat, as if he were having to force the words out.
Merlin concentrated on the whisper of a thread of a promise that extended from his neck, shoulder, arm, hand, to Arthur.
What met it was gentle - a sense of warmth, accompanied by a sensation of familiarity, which was a little bit crazy and a lot unexpected. Having no clear idea what magic would feel like if he touched it in someone else, Merlin allowed his awareness to drift across Arthur's hand, searching for something more active. He found it. Beneath the warmth there was a discordant pattern playing through Arthur's being that jarred at Merlin. It jangled - deep, discordant bells which squirmed through his understanding, like, like embarrassment, or fear. It took him a few minutes to recognise that Arthur was suffering from the beginning of panic and was firmly stomping down on the emotion.
He allowed his magic to spread around Arthur's wrist and enfold it, like a hand clasp. In response, he felt Arthur relax and the sensation of serene warmth, with a golden glow, began to rise from under the fractured layer, until it almost drowned out the other colours.
The essence of Arthur was seductive. It drew Merlin with a gentle rhythm and a promise that felt like a warm duvet on a lazy morning in bed. It offered him a haven, a nest, a familiarity that was full to overflowing with relaxation and challenge, but he knew it wasn't magic. He didn't know what it was he felt in the texture of Arthur, but he was now certain that if Arthur did have magic, it was in hibernation - a creature curled up secure and safe in a warm burrow.
With some deliberation he avoided touching even the surface of Arthur's thoughts. That would have felt like an invasion of his privacy. The colours of him had already betrayed more than Merlin had intended to discover or that he felt Arthur would feel happy with him knowing.
The connection broke when Arthur sat forward in his seat and Merlin abruptly pulled his magic back. The shock brought him to full awareness of what had been happening on the television.
Arthur was staring at the screen. He shook his head. "Come on, Dad, get it together," he muttered.
Merlin sat up straight and picked up his pint to cover the move. "Do you think he's okay?" he asked.
"Why do you say that?"
"It's what I thought you were saying." Merlin studied Uther. "I really would never have pegged your dad for stage fright," he said again.
"I told you, he doesn't get stage fright. I've seen him stand up and speak in front of huge gatherings at business dinners."
"Maybe it's because he's on TV?" Merlin suggested. "That's pretty scary, if you think about it."
"Oh, for goodness sake! He's been interviewed a hundred times. He doesn't get nervous. He doesn't fumble."
Sitting back, Merlin rested his glass on his thigh and ran his other hand through his hair. "Well he is now," he said.
Arthur ignored him.
The camera moved away from Uther and didn't return while audience members were called upon for their views. Those who spoke were well informed and made good points, one of which had Godwyn momentarily backed up against the metaphorical ropes.
There was a brief pause before David Dimbleby called for the third question, which came from one of the teachers at the school. He asked about the Church of England's stance on gay marriage, given the huge divide between the attitudes of the Western and the African congregations.
"Oh God," said Arthur, closing his eyes and falling back against the cushions.
Dimbleby went straight to Uther, who started to speak immediately. "There is something fundamentally- No, no, that's not what I mean to say. Two men together like that is an abom-" He bit his lip, grabbed the glass on the desk in front of him, raised it to his mouth and swallowed thirstily. His hand was shaking. When he put the glass down, he took a deep breath and released it, glanced around at the rest of the panel, took another breath and, as if each word took a huge effort of will, bit out, "I have nothing to say on this matter, except that marriage is a sacred rite, the natural order of which is one man and one woman." His hand was still clenched tightly around his water glass and his eyes were wide.
Arthur opened his eyes. "Well, that was predictable," he muttered. "More absolute than usual, but on the whole depressingly familiar. At least he didn't finish that first sentence."
"You don't agree with him?" Merlin asked.
"Not very likely to, am I?" Arthur replied. "Although, personally..." He shrugged, "A Civil Partnership would have been enough for me. But it's important to some people and I don't see why they can't get married."
Merlin turned his head to stare at Arthur. "Are you gay?" he asked. "I'd never have guessed you were gay."
Looking across at him, Arthur smirked. "Then you need a new battery for your gaydar. Appearances, Merlin, almost by definition, are deceiving." The smirk broadened into a full grin. "Except in your case, of course. I knew you were gay within a day of meeting you."
"But, but you never said anything."
"Why would I?" Arthur sounded almost offended. "I didn't know you." He shrugged again and smiled, but his voice was decidedly patronising when he added, "We're not at university; there's no obligation to go around making declarations. Not in real life."
Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't think of anything that wasn't totally stupid, so he shut it again. The mildly amused, slightly irritated expression in Arthur's eyes suggested that it was a wise choice.
Merlin turned back to the screen where the politicians were all agreeing that the law made the situation very clear. The LibDem and the Conservative both claimed that they were not qualified to pass judgement on the Archbishop of Canterbury in his performance of his office. Godwyn was slightly more outspoken in support of gay rights, but it seemed to Merlin that it was mostly said for effect, because he felt such statements were expected of him. Trickler, who had been kept in check by Dimbleby while the others gave their opinions, launched a diatribe on hypocrisy, aimed at the other panellists. First he quoted their individual past voting records on the issue and then questioned the relevance of an established church in the twenty-first century. In spite of the laughs he got, Dimbleby quickly called him to order.
The camera panned away from Trickler and stopped for a few moments on Uther. He was clenching his jaw and there was a pained expression on his face. Merlin sat forward abruptly. It might have been a trick of the studio lights, but they were experts, they would take measures to prevent red-eye. If red-eye was even possible on television, where there was no flash to cause it.
"What?" Arthur asked.
Merlin sat back. "Nothing," he said. "I thought I saw something, but I was wrong."
Then came a question about the funding of heritage projects.
"You are referring to the recent case at the British Museum?" David Dimbleby asked. The questioner confirmed that that was the issue she had in mind and expanded a little on her initial question with an observation about rich donors dictating terms and the potential for organisations charged with preserving the nation's heritage being compromised. With the reason for their recent visit to Miss Kay in mind, Merlin snorted in agreement.
Dimbleby looked around the panel, hesitated on Vivian Olafsdottir, but said, "Uther Pendragon, you have made a number of large donations to some of our national galleries, I believe?"
"Heritage is a difficult word," Uther said. The camera cut to David Dimbleby nodding encouragement. Uther frowned, his brow knotting. "The cultural heritage of this country is all very well, but family heritage is what matters. I believe that should always take precedence."
The camera cut again to David Dimbleby who seemed interested but puzzled by this introduction to what should have been a straightforward comment about funding for the arts and culture from the non-politico on the panel. "Family heritage?" he asked.
"Heritage is personal," Uther said. "Family heritage is the concept that underlies the whole idea of public funding for the arts. Many of the great museum collections and all the national Trust and English Heritage properties started in private hands. And if a time comes when the public purse no longer values these treasures, then it is time to return them to the private sphere. When a man is robbed of his birth right, he is entitled to take whatever measures are required to reassert those rights."
"I don't understand," Dimbleby said.
"Then allow me to explain." Uther's voice was getting stronger with each statement and there was no hesitation in his manner now. "When public funding is withdrawn, it is a declaration that government is not interested in maintaining cultural establishments."
That resulted in a smattering of applause and Dimbleby asked, "Are you suggesting that in those cases it is up to private funding to take over and fill the gap?"
"If there are people willing to subsidise such activities," Uther agreed, "they are at liberty to throw away their money as they see fit, but in my opinion, if those with control of public monies don't prioritise museums and galleries, and they are incapable of supporting themselves by charging for entrance, then they have no place in our society."
The applause of a moment before was replaced by muttering and a single audible boo. David Dimbleby appeared torn between surprise at the nature of Uther's view and delight that the question had turned up such a controversial opinion. The other panellists all started speaking at once, contradicting Uther to greater or lesser degrees, but Dimbleby forced them to shut up. "But you, yourself, have been instrumental in saving a number of important works of art for the nation," he said.
"Of course I have," Uther agreed. "It's good PR. And that was just money. They didn't matter to me. I am dealing with a situation at the moment that is far more significant. And today I put in motion legal measures to take back ownership of a building that has been totally neglected by the public bodies that were supposed to support it. It is part of my family's heritage and I won't suffer to see its potential wasted. In my view, pride in family will always outweigh any argument about the cultural heritage of the nation."
"O-kay," Dimbleby said. "I'm not sure of the case you refer to, but I don't think that was what the questioner was asking. Vivian Olafsdottir, as culture secretary, what do you say to the charge that the Director of the British Museum was very much at fault when he said-"
Merlin turned away from the television, to Arthur. "What does he mean?" he demanded.
Arthur was still staring at the screen and he looked as bewildered as Merlin felt. He shook his head. "I don't know."
"He was talking about the Folly, wasn't he?"
"I don't know," Arthur said again. "He hasn't said anything to me." He dragged his eyes away from the television. "It could be a different building," he said. "It must be. Pendragon's is involved in scores of projects."
"How many of them would come up in reply to a question about arts funding?" Merlin asked. "How many of them would your father claim was part of your family's heritage?"
Arthur shook his head. "None that I know of," he admitted. "But it could be some project I'm not involved with. It must be."
"That's not what it sounds like."
"I don't know what he's talking about," Arthur insisted and Merlin believed him.
On the television, Karl Godwyn was speaking. He told a personal story about his own introduction to the British Museum, on a school trip, and roundly condemned the sentiments Uther had expressed. When it appeared he was about to expand his criticism, David Dimbleby called him to a halt and steered the discussion away from the Pendragons and their business, back to the original question, which proved lively enough on its own. Merlin sat back in the sofa and glared at the screen.
The other politicians co-operated with the chair and picked up on various points Godwyn had made, not responding to Uther's metaphorically tossed gauntlet. The first audience speaker did, however, and that led to Trickler doing what he had proven he did best and raising both laughter and cheers.
While they watched, David Dimbleby seamlessly drew the question to a close without calling on Uther to speak again. Merlin cast occasional glances Arthur's way, but could not read anything from him. Arthur looked calm. He was sitting with his half-drunk pint of beer in his hand and resting easily on the arm of the sofa.
Merlin's own brain was churning. He wanted to get up and pace. He turned in his seat, so he was half facing Arthur along the sofa. The movement drew Arthur's eye. "You'll ask him tomorrow though, won't you?" Merlin said.
Arthur nodded. "Yes. You can be assured of that. I'll ask Geoffrey, too." He shifted himself, turning towards Merlin. "If anybody knows anything, he will," he said. "I can't believe it's the Folly, though." He held Merlin's eyes, as if willing Merlin to agree. "Why would he send me to oversee the project, if he wasn't serious?" Merlin opened his mouth, but Arthur kept talking. "I don't believe it. I can't believe it." He smiled slightly, although it looked forced. "Besides anything else, if it was The Folly he wouldn't announce it on national television. It has to be something else. Something I don't know about." He leant sideways and put his glass down on the coffee table. "There's nothing can be done tonight, anyway. I'll call Geoffrey, and my father, first thing. Okay?"
Merlin nodded reluctantly. There was indeed nothing to be gained from arguing, when Arthur had already promised to make enquiries. Arthur had already turned back to focus on the programme again. After a moment, Merlin followed suit.
The debate had moved on to the next question and they had missed the beginning of it. "– healthy work-life balance," a woman in the audience was saying.
The camera cut back to the panel and centred on David Dimbleby. "As a business man yourself, with a large number of employees, do you have a comment on that, Uther Pendragon?" Dimbleby asked.
The camera panned across and settled on Uther. He stared straight out of the screen, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. He began to speak, slowly at first but his words speeding up as he talked, until he was hardly drawing breath between sentences. "I married my wife for her connections and she knew it. At that point in my career I had no time or energy to spare for a work-life balance. I worked twenty hours a day, building a business, pushing the old guard out, forcing a creaking, staggering company into the 20th century. Yes, there were casualties. There were people who couldn't hack it. There were other companies that were failing, or could be made to fail, and they had to be acquired and forced into health. Work-life balance? Anyone here who has made any sort of success of their lives knows that's just a whining excuse used by the weak willed and lazy to hide behind."
At last he paused for breath. The rest of the panel was sitting in shocked silence, as was the audience. Then the comedian jeered from Uther's right, saying, "And what does Mrs Pendragon think of that attitude? If you still have a Mrs Pendragon, that is."
There was some almost nervous laughter from the audience and a couple of the other panel members started to smile.
But then it got worse when Uther began to cry. At first it was a single tear, caught by the merciless camera and the bright lights, but within a few moments his breath was hitching. "My wife was always full of dreams and stupidities. I didn't have time for her nonsense."
It was almost too painful to watch. What it would be doing to Arthur, Merlin couldn't begin to imagine. Karl Godwyn leaned forward as if to say something, but David Dimbleby held him back with a gesture. This was too good to be spoiled by advising Uther to shut up. "I was ambitious," Uther said. "So what if I cut corners? If I bent a few rules? All's fair in business. The government is constantly putting barriers in the way of entrepreneurs and wealth creators."
Now David Dimbleby did say something. "It sounds like your definition of a wealth creator is someone who only creates wealth for themselves."
"Of course," Uther said with such certainty that he made it a virtue. Although the tears continued to form and slide down his cheeks, he made no attempt to brush them away. It was as if he didn't realise they were there.
"Are you saying you broke the law in building your business empire?" Vivian Olafsdottir asked. She sounded awed and Merlin could only imagine she had asked the question so that Uther could deny it.
"Of course not," Uther said. His voice began to hitch. "But one can't conduct business in the, the environment, that this government, all the ones before it have created with, with their regulations and directives."
Trickler looked like he'd woken up on Christmas morning to find all his wishes granted. "And while you were breaking-" David Dimbleby interrupted and Trickler nodded, correcting himself, but with such emphasis on the word that it dripped with sarcasm, "-bending the law in pursuit of power, what did your wife do?"
"She died," Uther said, shocking the room into silent again. Trickler looked momentarily shamefaced and muttered, "I'm sorry," but it was overridden by Uther, who said, "She withered away like a flower starved of sunlight." He was crying steadily now. Bowing his head, he stared at his hands, clasped on the desk in front of him, but the microphone picked up his words when he murmured, "And now my son hates me."
Staring at the television screen, Arthur whispered, "I don't."
Finally, Uther began to sob. He raised his hands and covered his face.
Merlin watched in horror. Eventually, he drew a deep breath. "Oh my," he said.
Arthur's expression was one of total disbelief. When Merlin tried to speak to him, he didn't react. David Dimbleby said some words that Merlin didn't hear. There was some sporadic applause. The studio lights went down and the credits began to roll.
Arthur shook himself out of his stupor. He collapsed back into his seat. "What the fuck?" he breathed.
Merlin got up, crossed the room and fetched a glass from the dresser. He opened the mini fridge and studied the bottles of beer and small cartons of orange juice on the shelf. Closing the door again, he went to his backpack and retrieved the bottle of cognac. Pouring out a generous measure, he pressed it into Arthur's hands. Arthur took it, lifted it to his lips and drank it all down. Behind him, Merlin heard the continuity announcer making an apology for the abrupt curtailment of the previous programme.
Arthur gave a shudder and grimaced. Putting the glass on the coffee table he said, "I have to go to Camlann." He looked at Merlin and made to get up. "I have to go, now."
Merlin put his hands on Arthur's shoulders and pushed him back into his seat. "You can't drive," he said. "You've drunk too much." Arthur glared at him and glared at the empty glass. "Even before that," Merlin said. "You're over the limit and if you didn't get stopped, you could still have an accident." Seeing something in Arthur's eyes, he added, "And so have I. So I can't drive you."
Dragging up a smirk from somewhere, even if it was a half-hearted attempt, Arthur said, "As if I'd let you drive my car."
"You can't drive," Merlin repeated, moving around the coffee table and dropping into the seat next to him. He picked up the remote and turned off the television. "And even if you did, what could you do tonight? Your dad will have minders with him, won't he? They'll look after him."
"He was being driven back to London straight after," Arthur said. "Yes, Blackwell will look after him. Get him home."
"Well there's no point in you haring off to Camlann then, is there?" Merlin said. "And there's no point in getting to London before he gets there."
"I, I need to call Geoffrey," Arthur said. He looked around the room and patted at his trouser pockets. Merlin jumped up and went to the wardrobe. He opened it and dug in the pockets of Arthur's jacket until he found his mobile. When he turned around, Arthur was standing behind him and Merlin handed the phone to him. Arthur took it and Merlin went back to the sofa, to give him the illusion of privacy.
Arthur sank down onto the edge of the bed, his thumbs skimming over the screen. When he raised it to his ear he didn't have long to wait for an answer because almost immediately he said, "Yes, it's me. You saw it then?" There was a pause. "I have no idea. Did you know…?" Once again the person on the other end of the phone, Geoffrey, Merlin presumed, must have been speaking. After a moment Arthur said, "No, I can't drive tonight. I, I could call a taxi?" Another pause and he said, "No. Um. Well, in that case, I suppose he won't get home until three at the earliest. You'll be there?" There was a longer pause as he listened and nodded, interrupting occasionally with half formed objections, but Geoffrey seemed to be talking him down. Eventually he drew a deep breath and let it out again. "Thank God. Yes... Yes, thank you. A couple of hours. About four. No, I know. Thank you. Yes, I'll see you then. Good night."
His arm dropped to his lap and his entire body slumped. Merlin got up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "What time are you leaving?" he asked.
Arthur looked up. "Geoffrey's spoken to Blackwell," he said. "Blackwell will get him out of there and into the car. I know how fast I metabolise alcohol. I'll leave at four. I'll be in London by 5:30. Geoffrey's going to be there, at the house and is arranged for our doctor to be there, too."
"Okay," Merlin agreed. "So you'd better get some sleep then. I'll, I'll stay, if you don't mind. I can sleep on the sofa. I, I..."
Dragging up a weary smile, Arthur nodded. "Yes, thank you," he said. He put his phone down on the bedside table. "I think that sofa pulls out," he said. "I saw some bedding in the cupboard over there."
"Right. Well... You get some sleep then. And I'll set my alarm for, what, 3:30?"
"Yeah," Arthur agreed. He looked ready to drop, so Merlin knelt down and pulled his shoes off for him. Arthur smiled weakly. "I'll be okay," he said. "I can get myself to bed by myself."
"Of course you can," Merlin agreed, clambering to his feet. "I'll just be over here, if you need anything. Sleep well." He went over to the door and turned off the main lights, dug out the spare duvet from the cupboard Arthur had indicated, but didn't bother trying to figure out how to turn the sofa into a bed. He simply shucked off his shoes, socks and trousers, and curled himself up under the covers.
"You too," Arthur said.
Pendragon's Folly, Chapter 6
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2014-08-02 09:09 pm (UTC)Arthur smirked and Merlin felt his face heat up, but Arthur didn't say anything. See it's lines like this that make my little slashy heart go pitter pat! *g*
"Oh, I'm capable," Merlin said. "I'm very capable."
Arthur's smirk re-emerged. "I'm sure you are," And banter like this that fans the flames, you bad, teasing person you!
Oh god, I'd forgotten about Arthur being disconcerted by Uther saying he loved him.
Love the sequence where Merlin directs his magic at Arthur - it works wonderfully.
Oh hell, even though I knew what was coming, the train wreck of Uther on Question Time was still almost unbearable, all the more so for the way it built and was inter-cut with Merlin and Arthur's reactions.
That was a hell of a chapter, hon. Well done.
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Date: 2014-08-03 05:45 am (UTC)Thank you, hon.
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Date: 2014-08-03 03:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-03 05:47 am (UTC)Thank you, hon.
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Date: 2014-08-11 04:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-12 04:58 am (UTC)