Puissance: Chapter Six
Title: Puissance: Chapter Six
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.
.............................................................................................................................................................................................
Chapter Six
“The Prime Minister, Your Majesty,” the equerry said with a bow. Arthur walked in as confidently as he could and accepted King Edward’s offered hand. He shook it firmly, but not overly so, careful to give the right impression.
“How nice to see you again, please do sit down,” the King said, gesturing to a gilded chair by the fireplace.
Arthur had been having individual meetings with the King every week since he became Prime Minister, as the constitution demanded, but no matter how many times he did so the ‘novelty’ never seemed to wear off. He never relaxed his guard, and was always on alert to give the right impression and to say precisely the right words. He considered the King a friend, but a very different kind of friend.
“Thank you, your Majesty, it’s been a busy week,” Arthur began, turning slightly in his chair to look the King in the eyes as he spoke.
The two of them always met absolutely alone, with the exception, of course, of the King’s beloved corgis, the keeping of which had been a royal tradition for nearly a century. No political advisors were permitted, no civil servants, no equerries, not even King Johan. It was a constitutional private meeting between the United Kingdom’s Head of State and Head of Government, and Arthur took them very seriously indeed.
“So I gather. The situation in the middle east is particularly worrisome,” the King commented, leaning back in his chair and adopting a more relaxed position than he would in public.
“Indeed, sir. There is continuing military build-up in Iraq and since the UN inspectors were evicted we’ve become increasingly concerned that the situation could escalate at any time.”
The King nodded, “yes, it is a worry, particularly as I assume this country would be drawn into any conflict that might erupt?”
“Almost certainly. The Americans would respond and we would be drawn in via NATO. Also, I can assure you, that Parliament would vote to intervene as long as the threat of weapons of mass destruction was considered valid.”
The two men continued speaking for twenty minutes when, unexpectedly, the King rose from his seat. Arthur was stunned; their meetings always lasted at least an hour. He jumped to his feet as well, treading on one of the corgi’s tails. It yelped aloud, causing Arthur to jump and the King to chuckle slightly.
“It’s a marvellous day outside, Prime Minister, we shall continue this discussion on a walk through the grounds; I always find fresh air helps to sharpen one’s thinking, don’t you agree?” King Edward said, already walking to the door, so Arthur followed along.
The gardens of the palace were magnificently huge; the King took Arthur to the lakeside and the two of them strolled at a leisurely pace along its bank with the corgis trotting along a few feet in front of them. The sun was shining, but a slight breeze took the edge off the heat, making it quite a pleasant afternoon.
“How is Mrs. Pendragon?” the King asked as their conversation drifted away from international affairs.
“Very well, thank you sir. She is working with her charity for the homeless in Manchester this week. She’s staying up there until this weekend. Lance… I mean the Deputy Prime Minister is an MP for Manchester, he’s kindly allowed my wife to use his constituency residence whilst she is working there.”
The King nodded slowly but said nothing for several seconds, when he finally broke the silence he did not make eye contact with Arthur, but rather looked out over the lake; “and how is your Private Secretary?”
The question took Arthur by surprise, and he felt an unwanted blush forming at the tips of his ears.
“Merlin?”
“Yes, I believe that was his name.”
“He’s… well,” Arthur stuttered, unsure of how to properly answer.
The King then did another unexpected thing, he turned and placed his hand reassuringly on Arthur’s shoulder and smiled, “Arthur, whatever you say to me here is totally private, not even his Majesty gets to hear what we speak about.”
Arthur gulped, “thank you, sir.”
Astute as ever, Edward picked up on Arthur’s discomfort and decided to end their discussion. The two of them turned and made their way back to the palace, talking instead about the state of the gardens. Edward spoke also of an upcoming garden party and the preparations involved in that, pointing out various spaces in the garden which would be occupied by buffet tables and St. John’s ambulance kiosks for those who faint at the sight of royalty (of which, Arthur was told, there were a substantial few).
When they reached the back entrance they were met by an equerry. The King offered his hand again, which Arthur took with a quick bow, and just like that the King was gone; disappeared down the corridors of Buckingham Palace. Arthur was led through the building to the quadrangle where his car was waiting; he slipped into the back seat ready to be taken back to Downing Street.
“Had a good meeting?”
Arthur jumped out of his skin, he hadn’t realised anybody else was in the back of the car with him.
“What? You know I can’t talk about it, Merlin,” Arthur rubbed at his forehead, resting his elbow on the door handle.
“I didn’t ask you what you talked about, Arthur, I asked if it was a good meeting.”
“Don’t give me that civil service clever talk! It was… interesting.”
“Oh,” Merlin seemed satisfied and started fiddling with papers in his folder.
“We talked about you.”
Merlin dropped his papers onto the floor of the car.
“Me?! Why would you talk about me?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said sternly, “you can’t say something like that and expect me not to probe. Why was the King of Great Britain speaking about me? Have I done something wrong? Oh God, he’s not sending me to the Tower, is he?”
“Well…” Arthur smirked.
That earned him a sharp shove on the shoulder, “don’t joke about that, Arthur!”
Arthur laughed, but nodded his assent, “alright, ok. He just asked how you were, that’s all.”
Merlin’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “does he even know who I am?”
“Of course he does, you idiot, otherwise how could he ask about you?” Arthur shook his head, but still smiled. He loved bantering with Merlin; he found it much more enjoyable than debating people in the House of Commons.
The car turned into Downing Street and Arthur undid his seatbelt; “come up for a drink?” he asked Merlin casually.
“Why not?” his Private Secretary chirped in reply.
The policeman greeted Arthur with a nod as the great black door of Number 10 swung open. He was taken aback, however, by the flurry of movement inside; civil servants, press officers, and policemen were rushing around the ground floor in an atmosphere of tense agitation.
“What’s going on here?” Arthur asked Merlin, who merely shrugged and intercepted the nearest civil servant.
“Prime Minister, I think we had better go to your office,” Merlin said, putting his hand on Arthur’s shoulder to guide him as quickly as possible to the upstairs office. Arthur was immediately uneasy; Merlin now only called him ‘Prime Minister’ when something serious was happening.
As soon as they walked into Arthur’s office, before they had even sat down, Arthur turned on Merlin demanding answers.
“Calm down, Arthur! Sit down, I’ll tell you what I know,” Merlin said, taking his own seat on the other side of Arthur’s desk.
“5 minutes ago, Iraq launched a missile strike against Turkey. They targeted Ankara and Istanbul, along with various other large towns. The devices weren’t nuclear, but it appears they may have had some kind of chemical component.”
“My God,” Arthur said, leaning on his desk, “how many casualties?”
“We don’t have any estimates yet, although one particularly startling photograph has emerged,” Merlin handed over the printed photograph he had taken off the civil servant in the lobby. Arthur’s jaw dropped when he saw it; it showed the Hagia Sofia in Istanbul - one of its minarets had collapsed, and there was a gaping hole in its ancient dome. Tongues of fire were flaring up from the gash, and plumes of smoke towered into the sky. It was an immensely evocative photograph.
Merlin’s Blackberry beeped, and he quickly checked the message he’d been sent. His eyes darkened and his shoulders slumped as he reported to Arthur a second wave of missile strikes on Turkey.
...
Chapter Seven