Puissance: Introduction

[arthurmerlin]

Title: Puissance: Introduction

Author:  ArthurMerlin

Artist: blood_songs90

Pairings/characters: Arthur/Merlin (minor: OC/OC, Gwen/Lancelot)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 30,798

Warnings: None

Summary:The turbulent times of Prime Minister Arthur Pendragon, in which war looms, betrayal waits in the wings, and unexpected love blossoms.

Disclaimer: Neither ArthurMerlin nor blood_songs90 owns any aspect of Merlin. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Introduction

The atmosphere in central office was beyond electric as each successive result exceeded everybody’s expectations. The Tories were taking seats that nobody in their wildest dreams had ever thought they’d be able to take. Cheers erupted as the news came in that Streatham had been taken from Labour, regaining what had been a Tory safe seat back in the 1980’s. Arthur accepted the pats on the back with a gracious smile and a huff of mixed relief and suspension of disbelief. He sat back in the office chair, resting his arms on the soft black leather armrests; the chair tilted backwards as he leaned, without even the hint of a squeak, and Arthur closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

He cracked his right eye open just slightly, letting the white lights hanging from the ceiling filter in like rays from heaven. For a moment, just a moment, he was able to block out the noise and commotion around him, and he felt the warm tingling sensation of peace well up within him. He exhaled slowly, with control and poise, and told himself to savour this and every other moment in the coming hours. It was hard, though, to stay grounded and keep your feet planted firmly on the earth when you’re soaring on the wings of an eagle; or, more precisely, on the tide of the British public’s adulation.

Arthur pushed himself out of the chair and straightened his deep blue jacket, then strode over to the coffee machine. If his father could see him now, despite the phenomenal results pouring in from around the country, he would still chasten Arthur for having coffee instead of tea; Uther saw it as one more concession to American culture over what was traditionally British. The thought made Arthur smile; the truth was he did prefer tea, but coffee was good for his image. Nobody in contemporary politics came close to perfecting the dashing young Prince Charming business tycoon, yet man of the people, quite like Arthur could; and coffee was an integral part of that, as well as staying in good physical shape and keeping up with the latest social media platforms. As the machine delivered the coffee to Arthur, he stopped and held the paper cup in his hand musing over how something so small could communicate so much - about culture, habits, perhaps even values.

Values were what mattered most to Arthur. He could handle the aesthetics that modern politics demanded; he could stomach the coffee and the constant smiling and the media appearances and the publicity stunts. But, to Arthur, they were never more than the decorative icing on the cake. It was the cake which had the substance and the depth; and that cake was Arthur’s deeply held principles. He was, without doubt, a conviction politician; determined to do the best he could for the British people he loved, and for the world they inhabit. Arthur was driven by powerfully held notions of fairness (from his mother) and duty (from his father), and together they were a potent mix.

He was pulled from his reverie by cheers of delight as the news came in that the Tories had ousted the Liberal Democrats as the second largest party in Scotland. Even Arthur couldn’t help but cheer at that news; gaining significant ground in Scotland was nigh a miracle. Arthur closed his eyes and muttered a quick thank you to whoever is up there, and took a sip of his coffee. He really didn’t like the stuff.

“Arthur, it’s time to go to the count,” Gwen said coming up beside him. Arthur and Gwen had been married for nearly two years, after getting engaged a month after Arthur took the leadership of the Conservative Party. She was the perfect wife for him; a confidant and a constant friend, somebody he could rely to prop him up when the pressures of running a major country begin to weigh heavily on the soul and body. She understood Arthur’s place in the public eye, and understood that her role was a supporting role; she stayed always by his side, supportive but neutral, never engaging in the gruesome battle that is politics. Arthur was somewhat in awe at her for that; he knew that had their positions been reversed, and Gwen had been the politician (which he had no doubt she had the potential to be), he would have quickly grown dissatisfied with not being able to speak his mind in public.

In private it was Gwen, more than anybody else, who put Arthur through his intellectual paces when it came to policy. It was Gwen who forced him to follow his arguments through to their logical conclusions, or to be able to see a problem from a new perspective. She had an incredible affinity with the public; she was able to intuitively sense the mood of the everyday man and woman, whether they be from north or south, rich or poor backgrounds. Whereas Arthur brought conviction and moral gravity, it was more often than not Gwen who helped Arthur apply those values to the problems of everyday people in practical ways.

He smiled at her and finished off his coffee before turning around and clapping to get the attention of the people in the room. Somebody muted the television and they all turned to look at their leader. Arthur looked back and saw the faces of people he’d been working with for years, including some he’d known even since childhood. But tonight was somewhat different; they looked at him differently. Some of them had tears in their eyes, others wore grins that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame. But they all shared something in common: their eyes shone with hope.

“I can’t quite believe that this is really happening. It still feels like a dream. But this is happening people, and we made it happen! Tomorrow we walk into Downing Street and we form a new government to turn around the country we love!” Cheers interrupted Arthur, but they soon died down as he motioned that he wanted to speak again, “this night isn’t over my friends. Let’s keep our focus, let’s do ourselves proud, do we have a deal?” Another round of applause and cheering followed, and Arthur’s smile grew ever wider on his face. He waved and shook hands with a few of the people closest to him in the room before being gently ushered out by Gwen.

As they walked out onto Milbank the bitterly cold air of a London night hit their faces. The night was quiet, with most people at home glued to their television screens. Arthur looked around at the empty street and realised that this was the last time he’d see an empty street in London for a long time. Rather than filling him with excitement, he started to understand the gravity of the responsibility he’d been entrusted with. Gwen seemed to understand that and gently laced her fingers with his and led him towards the car waiting to take them to the Kensington and Chelsea counting station.

The journey was short and Arthur spent most of it running over the notes he’d written down for his acceptance speech. He’d been MP for Kensington and Chelsea since 2001, entering Parliament when he was only 21, the youngest possible age. He’d gained the nomination because of his father’s patronage, but that had only motivated Arthur to push himself beyond what was expected of him, to prove that he belonged in Parliament on his own efforts. Throughout his time in Opposition he’d worked incredibly hard, being brought into the Shadow Cabinet as Shadow Foreign Secretary after only 2 years as an MP.

At that time he had shadowed James Trickler, who later became Chancellor of the Exchequer in 2008. Arthur had danced circles around Trickler in the House, and cut gaping holes in the government’s foreign policy. It stood him in good stead for the leadership election following the general election defeat in 2005, which Arthur sailed through to win in the first ballot.

His five years as Leader of the Opposition saw Arthur demolish the once impregnable Alined Smith. Alined had a debating reputation for being something of a viper; coiling around his opponent, dodging all of their attacks, and then making precision strikes of his own that collapsed his opponent’s argument (or character); in one or two moves it was usually checkmate. But Arthur was different; he approached politics like a general would approach a battle. Nobody could best Arthur as a tactician; he would expertly deploy his arguments and advance them at precisely the right time. He was masterful at keeping his enemy off-balance, and at finding the weak points in their defences that were ripe to be exploited. Slowly, bit by bit, over five years Alined was worn down and lost his reputation as a skilled debater.

But Arthur wasn’t one to rest on his laurels; he knew the hard work lay ahead of him. People vote enthusiastically for ideas, but the resistance comes when they’re put into practice; it seems people are hardwired to be cautious of change. Continuity brings stability and security, and Arthur understood that, he even respected and cherished it. But he had such a vision for the future, for propelling the United Kingdom into the rest of the 21st century as a leading nation in the world. Timing was everything, he had 4, maybe 5, years to put his plans in place, and, if he was lucky, get a chance to extend his project for another term. He was young, still rather idealistic, and full of energy; he could go 2 or 3 terms easily. He was ready for this, and he kept repeating that to himself over and over.

The car pulled up outside the counting station in Chelsea where a crowd of journalists had gathered to get footage of the leader emerging from his car. Gwen gave Arthur’s hand an encouraging squeeze as the car door was opened; Arthur stepped outside and smiled broadly, showing his white but slightly crooked teeth, and waved to the assembled crowds. Journalists shouted his name over and over like a chant, desperate to be the one to get the first words out of the sure-to-be next Prime Minister. But it had all been agreed with his PR team before; Arthur would give no interviews on election night.

Arthur swiftly did up the buttons on his blazer and walked smartly into the counting station, Gwen following behind him. As he entered there were cheers from the Tory supporters. Arthur mingled with them as the count continued, regularly receiving updates on his blackberry about constituency results. The night was still young, but it seemed the north-east and Wales would remain largely in Labour hands, but the rest of the country was slipping quickly into Tory hands. The Liberal Democrats were making some small gains in inner city areas, but mostly at Labour’s expense, and only helping the Tory advance to victory.

There was no question of Arthur’s victory in his own constituency. It was a Tory safe seat, and given the massive swing in their favour across the country it appeared as if it was only going to get safer. But it was part of the protocol to be there and personally accept the responsibility of becoming their MP once again. Arthur couldn’t help it, but his mind kept wandering to those areas in the country which were marginal, and hoping desperately that the Tories could snatch those crucial seats. He’d already won the election, but it was the majority that mattered; Arthur wanted to ensure he had a majority large enough that getting his program of reforms through Parliament wouldn’t be a problem, and would stand him and his party in good stead for carrying on for several terms.

“Sir,” a man in a suit said tapping Arthur on the shoulder, “we’re ready to announce the result.”

“Thank you, uh?” Arthur always liked to get names from people, he felt it was important that he make them feel that they were persons and not just faces to him.

“Richard Underhill, sir,” the man said smiling, evidently pleased that the new Prime Minister was interested in his name.

Arthur took his place next to the other candidates and carefully schooled his face to neutral as the results were read out.

....

Chapter One