Kink Me! #21
Kink Me! #21
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Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #21!
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“Since Ygraine’s last one. I don’t care. This one is worth it. It’s still being edited, but it will be at least nine tenths ready by our next rehearsal.”
“Is this yours?”
Morgana shakes her head. “I told you. It’s not about me.” It’s not even so much about getting Merlin and Arthur back together, although she wants to smack their heads together all the time as they’re miserable without each other. “Do you think it’s good?”
“It’s rougher than I would like, but yes. A friend’s, then?” She finally hands him the title page, and watches his expression change, first at the title she can’t convince Merlin to change and then at the unobtrusive ‘M. Emrys’ at the bottom of the page. “Ah. Of course. I thought he and Arthur were done with each other.”
“They’re readjusting, and that has nothing to do with the music. This isn’t refusing to hire Arthur or me as a soloist so you won’t be accused of nepotism, that’s your own business. But can you imagine what people are going to say, in five years when this is being played in all the halls and they find out it was written by one of our cellists?”
“That’s not going to convince me.”
Morgana puts the last of the music down. The third movement was finished just before dawn, and she and Gwaine spent the morning putting it into the software and getting it printed while Merlin slept. It still needs work, but she can see how it will look when it’s done and they certainly won’t be the first orchestra getting new parts from the composer at every rehearsal. “Look through it all. Imagine it once it’s been brushed up. Forget about who wrote it if Merlin bothers you that much. I think he’d rather if his name didn’t come into it until the premiere anyway, because of Arthur.” Uther makes a face like he swallowed a lemon. “Just go through it. We’ve got all the parts copied off for you. And while God knows this orchestra isn’t about what will make your musicians happy, I can tell you know that everyone would far rather do this with Pelleas than bloody Handel again.”
Uther sighs. “I can’t promise you anything, Morgana. I have to talk it over with the board of directors, for one thing.”
“A twenty-something cellist from our very own orchestra? They’ll eat it up with a spoon.”
“Nevertheless. The decision isn’t mine alone.” Even though it is, and the board of directors lets him rule with an iron fist aside from the occasional quibble from Geoffrey. “Give me the boy’s phone number, would you? I want to have the option of calling him with the news either way.”
Morgana scribbles it down on a piece of paper. She won’t get more out of him. “He wrote it for Arthur,” she comments, and lets him draw his own parallels.
Uther sighs. “I can’t promise anything, Morgana. Now, did you want to stay for lunch? It’s been a while since you stopped by.”
“A while” means the eight months since their final blowup about her parentage, and she’s not sure she’s ready to be around him without Arthur yet. “I’ve got plans for lunch, I’m afraid. I’ll see you at rehearsal.”
With that, she gives him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and leaves the office, waving to Katrina on her way. Gwaine’s making omelets for the three of them for lunch and she should give them an update on the meeting.
More soon.
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