Heartgrove Part 3
Part I
It was only a two hour flight from London Stansted to Camelot Pendragon airport, but it left Merlin shattered nonetheless. He'd always liked travelling alone - there was something faintly relaxing about sitting and reading his book by himself, without his mother dragging him around Duty Free to buy perfume, or Will deciding that they should see how loudly they could talk about bombs without getting arrested. But still, the three hour delay on the flight had been a bit wearing, and he was glad to be back home. Though, since when had Albion, not Britain, been home?
He felt his heart lift when he rounded the corner to arrivals, and saw a familiar blond in oversized sunglasses, flanked by two enormous Knights, waiting. Ah. Since then.
Feeling rather like something out of the end of Love Actually, Merlin raced forward and threw his arms around his boyfriend. A month away had felt very long, and Skype just wasn't the same.
“Hey,” said Arthur smiling, and kissed him.
“Hey.” Merlin grinned, feeling fit to burst. He supressed that ridiculousness though, mock-pouting at Arthur. “You do realise that the sunglasses do absolutely zero for disguising yourself? Your family owns the bloody airport.” He pulled them off petulantly; they'd awkwardly whacked him in the head during the kiss.
Arthur smirked at him, completely ignoring the stares and whispers surrounding them. “Actually, I think you'll find that my family owns the country and everything in it, including the airport. And by extension, the people in the airport.” He raised an eyebrow, looking impossibly smug.
“Pfft,” said Merlin. “I'm a British Citizen. We've got our own queen, remember?”
“Don't let that fool you.” Arthur grinned. “You're totally mine.”
And much as Merlin spent the whole limo ride home denying it, that was very much true.
*-*-*
Of course, Merlin's stint on cloud nine lasted only as long as it took for them to take a left instead of a right outside the airport, heading for the city centre rather than the Embassy as they'd agreed.
Arthur's face had suddenly gone rather slack, and Merlin took in the expression with a sigh. “I'm not going to like this, am I?”
The prince fidgeted, looking uncomfortable. “Um, so, you know how there's that moratorium on the press about printing on me ‘til my eighteenth? And how that's sort of meant that we can wander around freely and I could come get you today and all that?”
“Ye-es?”
“The rules don't really apply outside Albion - Father's been putting on pressure, using his contacts with the Murdochs and other newspaper empires and stuff to squash anything that comes up, but-”
Merlin sighed. He had spent the last month in Britain, and did, occasionally, listen to news broadcasts, however much Arthur might tease him about being hopelessly out of touch. The scandal over illegal phone hacking at News Corporation, the enormous international conglomerate of television stations and newspapers which was owned by the Murdoch family, was still breaking, seeming to get more murky every week. “But now the Murdochs are in trouble and need something to distract the media?”
Arthur sighed. “Yeah. They're running a front page about us tomorrow, in The Times and some other papers. Father's livid, but News Corp only has one TV station in Albion, so they're not too worried about his wrath.”
“So what do we do?”
“Well, they're also running it in The Sun -” Merlin put his hands over his eyes, trying not to think about what the headlines were going to be.
Arthur continued, patting him on the back in sympathy. “So we're sort of doing an in depth interview with journalists from some of their competitors, to take the sting out of whatever they say. We’ve got people from The Camelot Herald and The Guardian this afternoon, and then some questions at a press conference with a few other papers, none of them belonging to News Corp. Um, sorry?”
“How many's 'a few'?”
“Um. Forty six?”
Merlin scowled at him. “Do I not get any say in this?”
Arthur grimaced. “I'm so sorry, I know it’s terribly late notice. It's just, Father put out the press release this morning, naming you as my official partner. He wanted to pre-empt Rupert Murdoch, which means we have to say something. Otherwise it'll be completely out of our control. The emergency Council meeting to ratify it is tomorrow-”
“Ratify what?”
“You have to meet the Council so that it can officially approve you as a partner. Don't worry, it's just a formality; they'd never dare to defy Father.”
Merlin rubbed his fingers against his temples. “Let me get this straight. As of this morning, I'm officially like your consort or whatever, the whole fucking world is going to know it by tomorrow morning, and I have to spend this afternoon - which I was looking forward to spending watching crappy action films with my boyfriend because I've been up since four bloody am to get that flight - being bombarded with questions by nosy journalists from two different countries?”
Arthur winced. “Yes? Well, except that it's actually three countries, the Americans wanted in, and you're not actually my consort yet, we'll have to be married for that-”
“And nobody thought to ask me about any of this?”
Arthur grimaced. “By the time we all found out about it, you were already in the airport and your phone was off. It's not like we're getting married or anything, just - well, you're now officially my plus one to all royal events.”
Merlin sighed, stomach clenching at the very thought. “I'm not breaking up with you - but are you seriously trying to run with the fact that the King of freaking Albion couldn't get a message to me because my phone was off?”
“I didn't want to worry you?”
Trying to take deep breaths, Merlin sat up straighter in his chair. “Okay. Right. You owe me big time, I hope you realise. What the fuck are we telling these journalists?”
*-*-*
Teenage girls' hearts all over the world have broken this summer, after the announcement today that not only is sixteen-year-old Prince Arthur Pendragon gay, he's also very much attached to his boyfriend of five months, Merlin Emrys. Below is the full transcript of the UK exclusive interview I had with them last week, just before they returned to their studies at Albion International School for Year Eleven.
Tom Maidstone: I'm sure female hearts are breaking all over the world right now. Mr. Emrys, how does it feel to have bagged the world's most eligible bachelor?
Merlin Emrys: Um... please call me Merlin. And I wouldn't say I've bagged him, exactly. We're just dating. It's not like we're getting married.
TM: So you're saying it's not serious?
ME: *looking flustered* No, no, I didn't say that, not at all, but we're fifteen, for heaven's sake!
Arthur: What I think Merlin's trying to say is that he's absolutely overjoyed to be dating me, and considers himself the world's luckiest person.
ME: Yes, that's right... wait, what? Oh, you smug *inaudible comment*
I can clearly see from their interactions that this is not the run of the mill fairytale of prince meets peasant.
TM: So, how did you meet?
Arthur: We were in the same class at school, Albion International, in Year Nine. Merlin had just moved to Albion from England with his mother, Ambassador Hunith Emrys.
ME: I corrected him. I'm not sure anyone had ever done that before.
Arthur: Honestly, Merlin. Don't be ridiculous.
ME: What? It's the truth!
TM: Yes, so your mother is the British Ambassador to Albion. How does she feel about your relationship?
ME: Oh, she laughed and told me she'd been expecting it since we danced together at the Welcoming Ball, the first week we'd arrived in Albion.
TM: Was that when you first realised you liked Arthur?
ME: Oh, gods no. That was just Morgana.
Arthur: Ahem. He means that it was simply a symbolic dance in order to show the world how tolerant and open a society we have here in Albion. Of course, gay and lesbian marriage has never been outlawed here, and there are no rules against it in the Old Ways.
TM: Are you considering marriage already, then?
Both boys turned extremely red at this point.
Arthur: I'm sixteen years old, Mr. Maidstone. Could we move back to the agreed-upon interview topics?
TM: Very well. Were you worried, Arthur, about how Hunith would feel about her son dating a prince?
Arthur: Hunith's lovely, a wonderful ambassador for Britain. I had been a bit nervous about her reaction, but she just smiled at me and baked us some biscuits.
TM: And how did your father feel about it?
Arthur: I'd told him I was gay when I was thirteen, before I'd even met Merlin. He's absolutely fine with it. Albion is a very progressive nation. I think he was just happy that I'd found someone.
TM: And how did you feel, Merlin, meeting King Uther?
ME: Well, obviously, I've met him before at Embassy events and the like, but I was still slightly intimidated at meeting him once more as his son's boyfriend. His Majesty was very kind, though, and very friendly, inviting me to join them for a family dinner.
What with King Uther's reputation suggesting that he is anything but 'friendly', this surprised me, but he has certainly made no outward objection to the match, going so far as to call a council meeting to ratify his decision to name Merlin Emrys his son's official partner. In very traditional Albion, this is an important step, allowing Mr. Emrys to attend events as part of the royal party, and is tantamount to a declaration that an engagement is on the cards, whatever the prince and his partner might suggest.
Since the prince is only sixteen, and Mr. Emrys only fifteen, this seems to be a rather premature decision to those of us from other countries, but in Albion, which has often been seen as a rather conservative and old-fashioned country, the age of consent is only fourteen, and such early partnerships are common. King Uther himself had his late wife Ygraine declared his partner when they were only fourteen, and were married at the age of twenty, twelve years before her premature death during childbirth after bearing the royal twins, Arthur and Morgana, separated in age by only twenty minutes.
TM: So, how do you feel about King Uther's decision not to donate to the various LGBT friendly organisations worldwide that have requested funding from Albion's very full treasury? He said that, and I quote, “though Albion is entirely supportive of people of diverse sexual and gender orientations, we believe that each country must work for themselves in deciding their policies, and thus will not interfere.” Given that people in, for example, Uganda, are being beheaded for homosexuality, and in light of your own coming out, do you believe this is the correct stance to take?
Arthur: I absolutely do not in any way condone repression of sexuality. I have donated my own personal funds to many of those organisations, as has my sister Morgana, who is patron of several UN charities and commissions. I cannot and will not comment on my father's use of treasury funds, which are nothing to do with me; he's the King, I'm not.
TM: If you were, would you have done things differently? Will you do things differently when the time comes?
Arthur: No comment. Can we return to the actual subject of the interview now, please?
The prince looks exceptionally uncomfortable, and Emrys is fidgeting. One gets the impression that they both completely oppose Uther's policies, but are unwilling to openly speak out against him. Perhaps, given the absolute power the monarchy still holds in Albion, that is wise. However, Princess Morgana -
CONTINUED ON PAGE 6
*-*-*
Arthur put down the paper with a sigh. “Father is going to make sure that Tom Maidstone is banished from Albion forever for that article.”
Merlin looked up from his book, marking his page with a finger. “Really? Why? I thought he was all right, for a journalist. Definitely better than that weirdo from the News of the World that came later.”
“He basically insinuated that the partnership is tantamount to an engagement, which is bad enough because it makes Albion sound like a haven of child abuse, and then flat out accused me of disagreeing with Father's policy. Maybe the first would have been let fly, but never the second, particularly because he goes on and on about how fantastic Morgana is, and only stops just short of calling me a spineless idiot for not openly opposing Father too.”
Merlin frowned. “Well, you're not a spineless idiot, but you do disagree with Uther, don't you?”
“Yes, but I can't say so. He's the king, and in Albion that means that until he dies, he is the ruler of the realm, and he's in charge. No questions. And he's done fairly well by the realm - we're richer and more powerful than any other country in Europe. Sure, I disagree with him on a few things, but I am not going to oppose my king outright.”
“But surely that's what stops Albion being a dictatorship, that dissent can exist?”
“It does; that's what the Council is for. Eleven elected politicians, one from each region, who ratify and agree upon Father's every decision. You'll meet them this evening.”
His boyfriend shifted in his seat a little. “I suppose this partnership thing could look a bit like an engagement to someone outside Albion.”
Arthur reddened. “It’s just - I mean, I know Hunith’s term is coming to an end so you're probably leaving to go back to the UK at the end of this school year. And I know it would be difficult if we lived in different countries, it was bad enough this summer! But, well, I just wanted to do something to show you that I'm serious, even if we've only got one more year.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, you know.”
Merlin sat up straight from where he was sprawled on a cushion on the floor. Arthur had never said that before. Well, except in his strange declaration at Heartgrove on that school trip where they'd first started going out. Merlin hadn't wanted to risk it either, feeling that he'd panic and run away screaming if he put labels on the feeling which coursed through his veins every time he looked at Arthur. But now it just felt right, like coming home. “I love you too, you great prat.”
Arthur smiled, and Merlin kissed him. There was no other option, really.
*-*-*
“Merlin Andrew Emrys, born on the 29th January 1996. Mother Hunith Emily Emrys, Ambassador to Albion from Britain. Father unknown. Born in Britain, moved to Rome, Italy at the age of eight. Returned to Britain after living there for three and a half years, before coming to Albion at the age of thirteen.”
Merlin shuffled, playing with his cuffs. Did the guy really have to read out his entire personal history? He was half expecting to hear what he'd had for breakfast this morning, set out in that dark, harsh voice along with the rest of his life story. Despite the fact that Arthur had spent the whole of yesterday evening reassuring him that this Council meeting was no more than a formality, it felt a lot more intimidating than that now he was actually in it. He was standing in the centre of a horseshoe-shaped table. In the seats around him, thirteen faces sat, blankly staring.
King Uther sat in a throne-like chair at the centre of the horseshoe, with the representatives of each area seated around him. Each had a small placard in front of them, on which was engraved the name of the province which they represented. Prime Minister Morgause sat to the King's left, and the representative from Mercia, Mordor Bayard, who also doubled as Treasury Minister, sat to his right. Other than Morgause, not one of the Council members appeared to be under the age of fifty. The PM's golden hair and bright red jacket stood out starkly in the sea of grey suits around her, but she seemed perfectly at ease, the peacock in a flock of pigeons. But even her bright colours could not overpower the sheer aura of power coming off the King in waves.
“How long have you two been together?” Bayard's expression was nasty.
Merlin answered shakily. The man's tone was enough to make him forget his own name - why on Earth did he have to go through questions which they all had the answers to in the dossiers in front of them anyway? “Since March this year.”
“And do you see yourselves remaining together further?”
“Yes,” answered Arthur, rather too loudly for the room. He was standing next to Merlin in a stiff-backed pose just a little too perfect to be comfortable. The prince squeezed his boyfriend's hand in moral support and murmured, “Don't worry, it's just a power play,” in his ear.
“Mr. Emrys.” Morgause took over the questioning silkily. “Your mother's posting ends next year, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think that will mean for your relationship?”
Merlin felt Arthur tense next to him, and had the feeling that if the Prince had been in any position to yell at the Prime Minister, he would be doing so.
Merlin took a deep breath. “I think that we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Arthur exhaled.
The representative from Elmet, a southern region known mainly for its beaches and tourism, raised a hand. He was a scrawny man, with hair the colour of straw and glasses which were too big for his face. “There is the matter of the royal succession. If Prince Arthur is in partnership with a person of male gender, and this eventually leads to marriage, there will be no legitimate heirs of the Pendragon bloodline to inherit.”
Merlin thought that the matching cold stares which the man got from both the King and his son would, if looks could kill, have left him in a heap on the lacquered parquet.
“I'm sorry that you feel that my choice of partner is not acceptable to you,” said Arthur, voice like ice. “I'm afraid that my sexuality is not under discussion. I first realised that I was attracted to men when I was twelve years old, and have absolutely no desire to date a woman, let alone marry one. So if it's not Merlin, because please let me remind you that I'm sixteen years old and have absolutely no intention of getting married any time soon, it will be another 'person of male gender' as you so delicately put it. And my partner and I may well choose to use surrogacy as a method of having children 'of Pendragon bloodline'. Of course, in case you've forgotten, I also have a twin sister, whose children will have as much right to the throne as any of mine. I refuse to compromise my principles and marry anyone for political expediency, so if that means that I have to abdicate in favour of my sister, so be it.”
A silence followed this pronouncement. Uther looked positively murderous, Morgause looked strangely delighted, and the Elmetian representative appeared to have melted into a puddle on his chair.
A woman with long iron-grey hair tied into a tight bun, whose placard indicated that she represented Brega, shuffled some papers. “I believe we can go to the vote. The minimum requirements for partnership have been met. His background checks out. There is no technical objection to be made.”
All eyes turned to Uther. “All those in favour?” he asked, expressionless as usual. Merlin tried to think whether he'd ever seen the man display any emotion other than anger, but couldn't think of any.
Every single person at the table raised their hand, even the Elmetian, who was clearly shaking.
“And those against?” If Uther were one to display any emotion, the expression on his face could have been described as 'faintly smug'.
Another silence.
“Congratulations, Merlin Emrys,” said Uther drily. “You are now officially Arthur's partner, and as such receive all the privileges of a member of Albion's royal family. This is not a contract, and I remind you that the privileges and status can be withdrawn at any time, at the discretion of Prince Arthur, myself or this Council.”
Merlin hadn't heard any of the speech beyond the 'congratulations'. Frankly, he was just glad that the council meeting was over. His head was still ringing - did Arthur just suggest he'd give up the throne for him?
*-*-*
They hadn't talked about the council meeting, not yet. Instead, they spent the limo ride home very carefully talking about which teachers they hoped to get next year, and when they arrived back at the palace went straight to watching RED on Arthur's obscenely large television. Catrina, having ascertained that they were using the plastic bowl for the popcorn, rather than her precious cut glass crystal, had thankfully left them alone from her panicky fussing for once.
“So,” said Merlin finally, as they watched Helen Mirren shooting people. “I guess it could have been worse.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you seriously threaten to abdicate?”
Merlin felt Arthur shift behind him. “No, I said they'd have to accept I was gay.”
He paused.
“Actually, I did threaten to abdicate if they wouldn't, didn't I?”
There was a pause.
“Father's going to kill me, isn't he?”
Merlin laughed weakly. “Let's just say that as soon as he gets home, I'm out of here! I love you, but this one's all yours.”
“You'll probably hear it across the road anyway; I've got a feeling that this is going to be loud.”
“Probably.”
“It's not like Morgana wouldn't make a better Queen anyway! She cares about this stuff. Politics. I don't. I just want to play tennis. Only random luck and twenty minutes means that I inherit rather than her. If only we'd been born the other way round!”
Merlin turned around until he was straddling Arthur's lap. “Don't you dare say that, Arthur Pendragon! You're going to be a fantastic King, I really believe that. You could do anything you set your mind to, but this is what you were born for. Your destiny, as Dr. K would say.”
Arthur looked tired. “I know. Look, I'm just a bit.... whatever... at the moment. That Council put me in a terrible mood. Fangorn, that Representative from Elmet, was so damn homophobic it makes me sick.”
“I was so proud of you when you spoke up, you know. I thought he was going to spontaneously combust, he looked so terrified by the combined Pendragon glare.”
The prince scoffed. “He's new - only voted in last month. I'll be surprised if he lasts a full term, to he honest. Father may be conservative in many ways, but he's known about my sexuality for years and to be fair, that's the one thing he's never objected to about my life. My mother was bisexual, so I suppose that explains a lot.”
Merlin started. “I never knew that!”
“No, it's not widely advertised. But it's pretty much an open secret. In fact, you know Ms. Nimueh?”
“Our teacher last year?”
“Yep. She dated my mum for a bit, until Mum left her for Father. He and Ms. Nimueh have hated each other ever since.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. I mean, obviously I never knew my mother, but it's amazing how much you can learn by going through newspaper archives.”
“It must be nice, at least being able to know about your mother. I don't know anything about my dad.”
“I don't know. In a way it makes me miss her more - there's been so much written about her, everyone seems to have known her except me and Morgana.”
“I get that. But I mean, I don't even know my dad's name. I was an IVF baby; she wanted a child even though she didn't have a relationship, so it's always been just the two of us. And her work, of course. Always the work. I mean, I know she loves me, just sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if we were a normal family.”
“Pah,” Arthur mock-spat. “You're talking to a prince, remember! I don't think either of us would know normal if it hit us on the head with a spatula. Maybe that's why we get along; we're both a little bit messed up.”
*-*-*
This day had been a long time coming, Merlin thought as he raced up the stairs, late as usual, to the king's audience chamber at the top. It had been months and months of arguments with councillors and advisors, months of frustrating arguments late at night between Arthur and Merlin, trying to hash out the parameters of the new laws.
New laws which would finally lift the ban on magic, so that Merlin could be free. And Camelot could finally be a country of magic once more.
He slipped into his customary position at the back of the room, behind the throne. For all that he was far closer, in every way including the literal, to Arthur than any other advisor, he was still just a manservant, mainly placed there to be around when the king needed his goblet refilled.
And Merlin was happy there. As a manservant, nobody noticed him, and that was the way he preferred it. He'd rather stay hidden, keeping watch in the shadows, than have all the focus of the court on him. As long as Arthur was listening to his opinions, the rest of the world didn't really matter.
The king caught his eye as Merlin entered the room. He raised his hands in the air and the room quieted, petitioners and couriers alike turning to face Arthur to hear what he had to say.
Merlin grinned all the way through the speech he had helped write, and when he finally heard the words he'd been awaiting for nearly ten years, couldn't help it that his eyes flashed golden and a shower of stars swirled around the king, dancing through the golden strands of his hair.
Arthur laughed aloud.
“That brings me to my second announcement of the morning,” he said. Merlin stiffened. Second? He thought they'd agreed that turning over the country's entire stance on magic was enough of a change for one morning. Apparently the king had other plans.
“I would like to announce a new appointment to my court,” Arthur declaimed. “As magic is now legal, we shall need a Court Sorcerer to be the figurehead for magic in this land, in charge of ensuring that my laws are kept, but primarily for the protection of Camelot and all its people from any threats of magical origin. I declare that this position shall be given to Merlin, my most loyal servant.”
Merlin's heart seemed to be both lighter than a cloud and heavier than Arthur's sword, all at once. Light, because Arthur was finally, finally recognising him for what he was, his protector. Heavy, because that sounded like rather a lot of work. Though, to be fair, it wasn't anything much more than he was already doing.
Arthur motioned for Merlin to step forward. He embraced him formally.
No one else heard the slight whisper in the warlock's ear. “Not to worry, love. There will be a uniform. Including a hat.”
If Merlin's grin as he was greeted by members of the court was slightly strained, everyone was polite enough not to mention it.
From the bowels of the castle, the sound of a dragon's laughter echoed down the centuries.
Fifteen hundred years later, Merlin Emrys rolled over in his sleep, murmuring “Arthur.” Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he had only vague impressions of stars twirling through golden hair when he woke up in the morning.