Drawn To Any Good (Or, The Education of Lord Arthur Pendragon) - Part 6/7
Part Five
- - -
If one thing could be said for Uther Pendragon, it was that he was a decisive man. When his mind was made up, it was truly made up. He had made it clear that he wished for Morgana to get married as soon and as advantageously as possible, and he quite obviously had decided that it was not happening as rapidly as he desired. Arthur had warned Morgana that if she did not take the imminent threat of marriage seriously instead of ignoring it in favor of magic lessons, Uther would make her decision for her. But as usual, at the mere mention of 'marriage' Morgana had scoffed, declaring Arthur so obsessed with marriage that he was not content to plot simply his own, but had to foist the institution upon her as well, and so Arthur had held his council.
But Uther had not been idle while Morgana frittered away the season. The men who Arthur had seen coming and going from the house had not been, as he assumed, the usual business or political contacts, but rather marriage prospects. The second they returned from Cornwall, Uther had sat Morgana in front of him and explained that he had whittled her marriage prospects down to two dozen men and if she did not choose one to become engaged to so she could be married next Season, the choice would be made for her. What had followed was a long, arduous fight that Arthur had been stuck in the middle of, but as much as Morgana had railed, Uther had remained firm, and thus a series of "auditions" began.
"You cad," Merlin laughed as Arthur related this story and the subsequent tale of the carriage ride he had been present on during which Morgana reduced the Lord of Dudley to tears in under ten minutes. "You're enjoying this whole debacle!"
"If I must go along with this entire farce, I may as well enjoy myself," Arthur shrugged, throwing an arm around Merlin, who shot him a look that was half fond, half irritated at Arthur's continued caviler attitude for trying to reign in such obvious signs of romantic affection. "Besides, she was warned. Extensively. She chose to ignore and instead of making the best of the situation, she has backed herself into a corner as always."
"And I imagine you would do better," Merlin scoffed.
"Of course," Arthur said. "I would choose you."
The fondness in Merlin's expression entirely overtook the irritation and he leaned forward as if to kiss Arthur, but then seemed to remember himself, and pulled away.
"None of that," Arthur murmured, reeling him back in for the kiss he'd nearly been denied.
Merlin sighed and smiled into Arthur's mouth, nipping Arthur's lower lip lightly for his cheek. "Are there any good prospects?" He asked when Arthur finally let him go.
"Of course not," Arthur sighed. "They're all either such spineless nancies they'd blow over at a gust of wind, let alone Morgana in a temper, or they're as authoritarian as Father, and just as intolerant of magic. Morgana can't live the rest of her life hiding this part of herself - I'd sooner marry Morgana myself than see her with a man that she lives in fear of."
"Morgana doesn't fear anything," Merlin soothed him, patting Arthur's leg. "I'm sure she'll find someone suitable."
As if Merlin possessed fortune-telling powers of his own, the very next day Arthur and Morgana were introduced to Earl Valiant of the Western Isles, the younger brother to the Duke of Argyll. He was certainly one of the most ambitious matches on Uther's list of prospects, but he had been in and about the aristocratic scene in London and while he was a very attractive prospect, he, like Morgana, had always been so strong-willed he had scared away all suitors. And, like Morgana, he avoided any events where he could meet someone suitable, and when he did appear, he put all his effort into intimidating the competition. Since Morgana had come of age, they had not encountered each other, and their first meeting, Arthur was sure, would be highly entertaining.
And it was, but not at all in the way Arthur had expected it. He, as ever, was there to act as chaperon, and watched helplessly as what should have been an extremely riveting shouting match instead play out into a highly amicable sparring match between two evenly matched opponents. Valiant was smart, if a bit ruthless and unprincipled for Arthur's taste, and had no trouble differing to Morgana when it came to subjects where her intellect exceeded his own, so long as she acknowledged and praised him in kind, which she seemed to pick up instinctively. There was, however, no spark between them that Arthur could discern, for all that they managed to tame each other. Arthur was sure someone in the next ten men would catch her eye, yet no one stepped forward. It was then at the end of the month that Morgana, with no fuss at all, calmly informed Uther that she would accept Valiant's suit.
"You can't be serious," Arthur spluttered when Morgana came to him and told him the deed was already done. He had expected at least a month's worth of shouting matches before Uther reverted to choosing by blindfolding himself and throwing darts.
"Why shouldn't I choose Valiant?" Morgana asked, flicking her hair back. "I don't believe in love - not as you do. A man has not held my interest for years, not since I was quite besotted with that revolutionary at boarding school - a terrible phase, I think we'll both agree." Arthur nodded, remembering the summer when when a fiery, impassioned Morgana had verbatim repeated the words of a young radical named Alvarr - a crook who made a habit of converting young girls at her school and then using them to fund his ring of magically-aided criminals. Uther had him arrested on the spot, and as far as Arthur he was languishing in prison somewhere. Good riddance, as far as he was concerned, even though Morgana had pitched a fit for weeks and sworn to never forgive Uther for what he'd done. Though Alvarr had clearly effected and shaped Morgana into the woman that stood before Arthur now, Arthur did not believe Morgana had truly loved the man, or that it was anything more than an extremely foolish and childish infatuation. Yet she still had shown no interest in any man - or woman, for that matter - after him. It was as though she had sampled the barest taste of the fruits of love, had been horribly disappointed in her experience, and thus chosen simply never to open her heart again. Such a decision was beyond Arthur. It seemed the greatest pity he could think of, the surest way to make life not worth living.
"So long as Uther counts me as his daughter I shall be forced to marry," Morgana went on ruthlessly. "And if I am forced, I may as well choose a husband I do not detest, and who is not one foot in the grave. Valiant and I share an understanding of each other and shall grow to be quite good friends, I believe. And once we are married I shan't have to hide my magic anymore, for Valiant has voiced to me on more than one occasion that he is far more liberal than Uther when it comes to magic and can see the use it can be put to. He's even moderately handsome. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't marry him, Arthur, because I cannot think of one myself!"
"Because you do not love him!" Arthur shouted. "By God, Morgana, I know your heart is closed now, but I had more faith in you to stand up for what you believe in!"
"No," Morgana said furiously, "you wanted me to stand up for what you believe in, to excuse your actions so that whenever you got together your courage to speak to your father about Merlin, you wouldn't look so deviant in contrast. I will not do it, Arthur!"
"It's not for my sake," Arthur protested. "But you have never let yourself experience love, Morgana. Why can't you try it, just once, before you give up your freedom?"
"Freedom?" Morgana let out a weird, high-pitched shriek of laughter. "I have no freedom! I will never have any freedom! That's your problem, Arthur, you think that everyone else in the world exists as you do - without any cares or concerns. What good will love do me? For that matter, what good has it ever done anyone? What good has it done you?"
Arthur was silent for a long moment, swishing his port in his mouth as he looked at Morgana in the firelight, willing himself not to rise to her bait as he took several deep breaths and then swallowed. "It is the greatest good I have ever experienced," he said finally. "And if you had ever been in love, even the littlest bit, you would never think to ask me that."
"Well then," Morgana said stiffly. "I suppose in that way, we shall never understand each other, shall we?"
"No," Arthur agreed. "I suppose we never shall."
- - -
Arthur continued to strongly disapprove of Morgana's engagement to Valiant, even if they had defied Uther by refusing to be married in the next season, preferring a long engagement to a rushed wedding. Aside from a weekly carriage ride, the two hardly saw each other, and did not seem to share a greater intimacy once pledged as Arthur had hoped they might. It irked him at the most fundamental level, made him feel as though he were witnessing a bizarre, socially acceptable form of prostitution, and made him cling tighter than ever to the belief that he would never marry for anything other than the very truest of love - namely, Merlin. If he could not have Merlin, he would have no one at all. Arthur's declarations of his renewed intentions altered between softening Merlin's imposed ban on romantic interludes and pushing up his walls higher than ever, but Arthur would not be dissuaded. He loved Merlin, adored him completely, and all rebuffs were made worth Merlin's wavering. He would be shot down a hundred times if it meant that for every hundred he got one time of them together, blissful, as if the world did not exist.
"There is something to be said for marriages that are not the product of love," Merlin said one day as they were taking a turn about the park, Arthur complaining of Morgana's impeding nuptials as usual. It was a cool day, November's imminent arrival in the air, and it was hard to tell if Merlin was walking close to Arthur and clasping his hand more because he was cold or because he was affectionate, but Arthur was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Romance all very well and good in fairytales, Arthur, but in real life, well, look at us."
"I think we are an excellent argument for true love," Arthur murmured with a careless grin, lifting Merlin's icy hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. At Arthur's gesture, Merlin blushed the most alluring pink, pleased and failing so very much to hide it that Arthur loved him even more for it. "We are quite the modern-day Romeo and Juliet."
Merlin shot him a fond, baleful look, the kind that suggested he thought Arthur was lovely and quite probably dropped on his head repeatedly by incompetent nursemaids as a child. "You do realize, my dear fellow, that the protagonists and namesakes die at the end of that play? And quite dramatically, I might add."
"Which is why we are adding our own, more modern, twist," Arthur said cheerfully. "Keep up. Unlike them, you need only say the word and we will be whisked into a life of endless happiness and utter devotion, leaving throngs of jealous onlookers in our wake wherever we go, and they shall pen a new play, entirely in our honor."
"Arthur," Merlin laughed. "That is not..."
"You're not planning on dying, are you my dear?" Arthur inquired, cheerfully interrupting Merlin's no-doubt endless and utterly boring recitations of all the reasons they were doomed to fail. It was getting quite old, honestly. They had not self-destructed into a pit of broken hearts yet, nor had any of the horsemen of the apocalypse made themselves known, and so Arthur felt quite justified in his belief that Merlin's dire predictions of doom were horribly exaggerated. "Because I should warn you, I'd find that most unfavorable. You are strictly banned from any sort of demise without my express orders."
"You are..." Merlin began, but what, exactly, Arthur was, was destined to never be known, for at that moment a man's voice boomed across the park, "Cousin Arthur!", and Merlin jumped so fast from Arthur's side it was as though he had been burned.
"Agravaine," Arthur nodded when his cousin had come within reasonable distance. Though Agravaine was the closest in age to Arthur of all of his cousins, he was by far Arthur's least favorite. He was as tall as his brother, Gawain, but with none of his bulk or vibrancy. Where Gawain was ruddy, Agravaine was colorless. Where Gawain had riotous curls Agravaine had neat, limp, straw-like hair. Agravaine's features echoed his brother's but were sharper, with none of the lines of good humor around his hazel eyes, making them flat and joyless. Agravaine had inherited all the worst traits of his father - the slow-burning temper, the calculating mind - with none of his warm-hearted charms. Arthur loathed him, and the feeling was mutual. "I did not know you were in town. What brings you here?"
"I just got in yesterday," Agravaine said. "I plan on setting up in London so I may be well-established for the season. Gawain looks to never get married, and if something unfortunate were to happen to him, well... after the twins married, I thought it only prudent that I should as well, should something... unforeseeable befall my dear, dear eldest brother."
"How kind of you," Arthur drawled.
"And I hear Morgana is set to marry this season as well! How felicitous, I shall have to pay a visit to congratulate her. It seems everyone is getting married except you and Gawain, Arthur. Then again, you always were unnaturally close."
Merlin made a small choking noise at the blatant insinuation from where he was attempting to hide behind Arthur, and Arthur could only roll his eyes. Implying that he and Gawain were closer than cousins should be was one of Agravaine's most common ploys, and one of his most nonsensical. Anyone who talked to Gawain for five minutes knew that he remained a bachelor simply because he could not bear to choose only one woman, and implying that it was because he and Arthur shared a sexual relationship said more about Agravaine's jealousy and inability to understand friendship or human kindness more than it said about Arthur or Gawain.
"And who's this skulking behind you?" Agravaine asked, eyes lighting on Merlin in a way that made Arthur feel ill. "A little rat, from the looks of it."
"This is Merlin Emrys," Arthur said coldly. "He is a friend of mine. And your brother's, I might add." Friend was perhaps stretching Merlin and Gawain's relationship - it was a warm acquaintance, but Arthur was sure they'd only met perhaps two or three times in their lives.
"Well," Agravaine snorted, "you always were fond of slumming it."
"Excuse you," Merlin cut in, clearly having reached the end of his temper. Arthur tried to step on Merlin's foot, to warn him that Agravaine was not the person to trade barbs with, but hat just earned him a glare.
"I see this one has a mouth," Agravaine leered. "And what a pretty one, too. You do like them spunky. Just wait until I tell your father about this." Arthur felt a cold ball of dread clench in his stomach.
"There's no need for that," he said bracingly, shooting Merlin a warning glare. "Merlin is an entertaining companion to walk with, nothing more. I find his unique perspective... invigorating."
"In that case, you won't mind if I pay him to leave," Agravaine said, fingers inching towards his coat pocket. "A few coins for him to learn his place."
"There's no need, I have it quite under control," Arthur said in a voice that offered no room for argument. "Good day, Cousin. Come along, Merlin." He took Merlin's arm and dragged him, unable to look at his expression of pale fury or Agravaine's self-satisfied smirk. To Merlin's credit, he waited until they were well away from Agravaine before wrenching his arm out of Arthur's grasp.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Arthur said when they were under their favorite tree, hidden from view. He put his hand out to grasp Merlin's shoulder and perhaps pull him close, but Merlin jerked away.
"Don't touch me," Merlin snarled, turning away. "Don't try to woo me when I am just your... entertainment."
"Merlin," Arthur begged, catching his wrist. "Please, let's discuss this. That wasn't what I meant -"
"There is nothing to discuss," Merlin said coldly, cutting Arthur off. "You have made it quite clear I am something to be managed, to be," his face twisted, "to be taken care of, and I will spare you that painful responsibility."
"You know I don't mean that," Arthur said. "But do you honestly think I would ever, ever wish Agravaine to speak for me, to tell my father of this? Do you think I'd ever want to let him know how much you mean to me when it's clear that there's only a block of ice where his heart should be?"
Merlin's eyes narrowed. "Fine," he spat out. "In that case, I'll accept your suit. Now you must tell your father, if you're not too much of a coward."
Arthur felt as though he was very rapidly losing what little control he had over this situation. This wasn't how he wanted it, Merlin accepting him to prove a point, Merlin in a fury. This was the last thing he wanted. He shook his head. "I don't accept that, Merlin. You're in a temper. You need to think about what you're suggesting, what you're agreeing to..."
"No, Arthur, you need to think about what you're offering before you offer it, when it's clear you'll never do what you promise!"
"I can!" Arthur plead. "I will one day, Merlin, when the time is right. I love you. Don't you believe I love you?"
Merlin sighed and crossed his arms. "No," he said after a long look at Arthur. "I don't believe you know what love is."
Arthur would have preferred if Merlin had slapped him. "I do," he insisted helplessly. "I do love you."
"Goodbye, Arthur," Merlin said, turning away. His face was terrible and blank, emotionless, as if it didn't hurt him at all to leave. Were Arthur a lesser man, he would have burst into tears, thrown himself at Merlin's feet and begged for his forgiveness. He wished he were a lesser man. But he could not move from where he was, couldn't believe this wasn't all a terrible dream. "Do let me know when you figure out what it is to love someone, if you ever do."
"Don't leave me," he begged. "Please, I can't..."
"Oh, Arthur, I'm not leaving," Merlin said bitterly. "I imagine we shall run into each other again one day, at some ball or another. I'll be the one magicking your cucumber sandwich so it doesn't taste stale."
"But..."
"Remember me for your wedding," was all Merlin said, and then he was gone, leaving Arthur terribly, utterly alone.
- - -
Besides coming over to visit Morgana, Valiant often made his presence known in Grosvener Square in order to shut himself with Uther in the study and go over all the details required so he could take over running the small, Cornish estate near their own that Morgana's father had left in her name to be given to her husband as a dowry. Arthur found the entire affair distasteful and was of the very strong opinion that Valiant cared more for the tin and copper recently found on the property than he did for Morgana, but Morgana had snapped at him and told him if he said one more word against the marriage, she would cut out his tongue with her butter knife.
It was true, Arthur was unusually peevish towards everything, especially Morgana and her marriage and anything that reminded him of Merlin at all, given that for the first time, Merlin's refusal to speak to him was absolute. No matter how many times Arthur went to Gaius', how many pathetic, pleading letters he penned and gifts of magical books and candies he sent, Merlin was utterly unmoved. The only way he could get any confirmation that Merlin was indeed alive was if he let Morgana go to magic lessons on her own and then pumped her for information when she returned. Had Merlin received his note? How did Merlin feel on the subject of the pro-magic editorial in the Times that day? Was Merlin looking well? Did his heart feel as broken as Arthur's did? Did he miss him?
Morgana had little to no patience for playing Cupid's messenger and would not answer any of Arthur's questions other than to say that Merlin's health was fine, Merlin was fine, and if Arthur did not stop pestering her she would resort to violence. Morgana, too, was of a short temper. Her nightmares had returned, but they were vague, indistinct, and it was clear she was fast growing frustrated by her inability to relate to Arthur what doom she was sure would befall them, only that she was sure it would happen.
"You have no idea how frustrating it is!" She complained to Arthur, having just tossed her embroidery aside in a fit of pique. "It is a constant headache! A storm is coming, I know it, and if only I could see it, I could prevent it, but I cannot tell anything at all!"
"I think you're a bit late," Arthur said gloomily, gesturing to the window where the November weather was at its usual slate gray sky and sleet finest. "It looks to me like the storm has already come. And it has been this way for a week. Your forecasting could use some work."
"Oh, you think you're clever," Morgana sneered, but any further derision was interrupted by the slamming of Uther's study door, and then Valiant's subsequent exit. His expression was... strange, Arthur thought edgily, putting down his book, and he gave Morgana a long, odd look that she returned curiously.
"Farewell, Morgana," he said finally. "I pray one day you will forgive me."
"Forgive you?" Morgana asked, beginning to sound concerned. "Valiant, what -"
"I shall take this from here," Uther said entering the sitting room behind Valiant. He was is pale and shaking with fury and, Arthur knew, as he and Morgana locked gazes for a terrified moment, this was the storm Morgana had foreseen. Valiant seemed to sense the imminent danger and left the room with a bob of his head, the coward. "Morgana," Uther said coldly, "I have just heard a most scurrilous accusation against you, and I shall give you one chance to tell me it is false, or that it is untrue, or to renounce what you have done, and if you do not, I cannot overstate the consequences."
"Very well," Morgana replied, all cool composure in the line of fire as always. "I have done nothing wrong."
"Then you were not leaving the house on your own?"
Oh, Arthur thought, relieved, that's all this is. "That's my fault, Father," he piped up. "I've been feeling not quite the thing, lately, and I could hardly confine Morgana to the house for that, now could I? I apologize, I should have seen to an escort."
"You should have," Uther agreed, building in fury the longer he spoke. "But it is not her lack of escort that concerns me. I had warned Valiant that Morgana had a habit of slipping out of the house, and it concerned him, so he had Morgana tailed - protecting his investment, as it were. And what concerns me is that Morgana was leaving the house for magic lessons."
Instantly, the world stopped turning. Arthur's heart stopped beating. He felt frantic, like he could not breathe, could not think except for the repeated thought of Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, crying out like a panicking child in his head. It wasn't meant to be like this, it was meant to be with Merlin at his side, with Merlin his, without a doubt in the world, not with the very real possibility that even if he gathered his courage, Merlin could turn him away, leave him with less than nothing.
"Tell me Valiant is wrong, Morgana," Uther went on in a low, terrible voice. "Tell me he is a lying knave, attempting to get a better deal out of me, that you know nothing of what he tells me."
"No," Morgana said firmly, white as a sheet. "No, I will not."
A slap rang out in the room, sharp as a gunshot, and Morgana crouched over, clutching her cheek. Arthur made a motion to rush to her side, but was quelled by Morgana shaking her head minutely. "Think about what you say, child," Uther growled. "Because this may cost you more than a betrothal."
"You may strike me as you like, Uther Pendragon," Morgana said. She tilted her chin up proudly, despite the growing redness on her cheek. "You may throw me in the dungeons, hang me in the gallows. It will not change what I am or can do."
"This is the thanks I get?" Uther asked, advancing on her again. "For raising you as my own, for loving you as your own daughter, you turn your back on me? That is how you repay me?"
"You never loved me at all," Morgana said icily. "If you had loved me, you would not have spent so many years keeping me in the dark, denying what I had become. You knew the signs, Uther. You knew. And you let yourself believe that I could be controlled, that I could be ignored and fit into your little box, be a pretty pawn in your game. But I will be no one's pawn."
"If that is how you feel, then get out," Uther snarled. "Get out of my house. Get out of my life. From here on out, you are dead to me."
"And you to me," Morgana replied. "Goodbye, Uther. I'll see you in hell."
The silence was terrible as Morgana strode out of the room, the air so thick with tension Arthur could hardly breathe. Perhaps if he melted into the chair, his father would forget Arthur ever existed, perhaps Arthur's involvement in this affair could be forgotten entirely... but it was a foolish hope. As soon as the doorway to Morgana's chambers slammed and no doubt furious packing began, Uther whirled on his son.
"You knew," he declared, as if passing judgment on Arthur, as if he had found him guilty of murder. "All these months, and you hid this from me."
"She was doing nothing illegal," Arthur protested weakly, feeling as though he were eight years old again and caught trying to climb out his window. "Basic magic is even fashionable, in some circles. And it was doing her health a world of good - her sleep was much improved. I did not see the harm in indulging her whims."
"Then you have grown complacent," Uther said dismissively. "What have I always told you about magic users? They are weak," Arthur shut his eyes, trying to block the image of Merlin's plaintive face that popped up in his mind the second his father uttered the words 'magic users'. "They are lazy good-for-nothings who are warped by the power they hold."
No, a rebellious voice in Arthur's head whispered, scenes flashing before his eyes so rapidly he felt dizzy. Merlin smiling, Merlin laughing, Merlin's eyes lit by sparkling lights, Merlin speaking of his father, his mother, Gaius, Gwen, Lancelot, Freya, Merlin kissing him, Merlin struggling to pull away, the love in Merlin's eyes, Merlin's voice as Arthur replayed it to himself every night before he went to sleep, soft with wonder when he whispered I love you, Arthur Pendragon. God knows why, but I love you, I do, I love you, I love you.
"They are unprincipled." Merlin dripping, blinking and sopping wet next to Arthur in the pond. "They are conniving." Merlin's face, screwed up in distaste as Arthur offered him roasted nuts, Gawain laughing at the two of them with all the faith in the world, fond, encouraging. "They care for nothing but themselves." Merlin tucked close to him, dancing, so happy he looked near tears, the scent of flowers in the heavy summer air. "They warp your mind." Merlin's hands on his face, gentle, long, delicate white fingers tracing the contours of his cheeks with so much love Arthur wanted to drown in it. "They make you believe anything is possible and never tell you the cost." Merlin's reproach, Merlin turning his face away. Merlin shouting, red with anger. Arthur failing, failing Merlin again...
"No!" Arthur yelled, leaping to his feet. "What you say is wrong! I have met them and yes, there are bad people who use magic, terrible people, but there are people who are good, people who love and live just like you and I and I will not have you besmirching them or their talents because you fear what they can do!"
Uther looked dumbfounded. "How can you defend these people?" He asked. "These people who took your mother from you!"
"No," Arthur insisted, his hands clenching into fists. "No, Father. One of them took my mother from me." He closed his eyes, unwilling to see his father's face when he spoke his next words. "And I am in love with another who did no such thing."
Uther scoffed and poured himself a stiff drink. "Naturally," he said sardonically. "And you wish to marry this little witch, I suppose? Crafted yourself another romantic little hovel in the air, for you to live in?"
"I do," Arthur said firmly. Strange, he had feared this moment for so long, and yet here it was, his father as bad as his worst fears, and all he felt was a strange disconnect from the whole thing, as if he were a casual audience member watching an opera. "I wish to marry him."
"Him."
"Merlin Emrys," Arthur confirmed. Uther's eyes narrowed.
"You mean the new man everyone's been all atwitter over at balls this season?"
"Dr. Gaius' - Morgana's tutor's - assistant," Arthur clarified. "He's not as lackwitted as he seems." An understatement, to be sure.
"No," Uther said thoughtfully, as if placing puzzle pieces together. "No, he's been put on watch lists ever since he started popping up - they say he's the most powerful sorcerer in Britain in generations. I had not believed such a man would be wasting himself on party tricks, but it makes sense now." He took a decisive swallow of Scotch. "This has all been a ploy to strike at me, a ploy from the beginning. He has enchanted you."
Arthur blinked, taken aback. The thought had never even occurred to him, honestly, though perhaps it should have. Merlin was fantastically powerful, it was a possibility, but it simply did not sit right. "I don't think that's likely," he said finally. "I've been reliably informed that love can only be emulated by magic, not created."
"What, and you wouldn't put it past an extraordinarily powerful man to find a way to do so?"
"Not without creating a Great Working, no, I would not." Uther took another thoughtful swig of Scotch and glared at Arthur as if assessing him.
"You are right," he said finally. "I do believe you are just lackwitted enough to have truly fallen for him of your own accord." Arthur could not decide if he was more offended or perversely bemused by his father's assessment. "However," his father went on, "he's unsuitable. You'll end your relations with him immediately. I will pay, of course, if it comes to that." He turned away, apparently satisfied that the matter had been settled.
By all accounts, Arthur realized numbly, it should have been. His father had given him the same instructions with both Sophia and Guinevere and he had, after much argument, done exactly that, walked away only to have his heart mended a few months later. Here was his chance to do so again, and yet the thought of taking it tore something vital inside Arthur, made him so miserable he wished to die rather than live a moment having made such decision, to live without Merlin. Merlin, who he loved more than ever, a fundamental lack of faith in Arthur or no. This time, his father was wrong.
"I will not," he said.
Uther turned around slowly, as if he was unsure of his own ears. "Think carefully, Arthur," he warned. "I have disowned one ungrateful child, and you being my son does not give me qualms about doing it again. If you continue this association you will be disinherited."
Arthur gave himself a moment to bid farewell to his easy life. It wasn't difficult at all. "Then disinherit me," he said. "I will bear that sooner than I would follow your orders."
"Then pack," Uther said harshly after a long moment of silence. He looked Arthur over once, harsh and searching, as if gleaning any last bits of Arthur's mother that were in his face before turning away. "You are no longer my son."
"Very well," Arthur said numbly, quitting the room. "Goodbye, Uther Pendragon."
Arthur packed in a daze. He had very few possessions, he realized. The furniture he thought of as his, the fixings that made up a house, they belonged to his father. His clothes and personal effects went in his trunk easily enough, and he didn't care to take any of the dry histories his father had given him over the years. Llamrai, Hengroen, and Passelande could be sent along, perhaps there was a stable in London he could house them in - his father wasn't a horse man. But it was one trunk, in the end. His life fit into one large trunk. The house was silent when he dragged his trunk down the stairs. No doubt his father had fled and was hiding in his chambers to avoid having to see his children leave, but his father's butler Geoffrey was standing there, waiting for him.
"I've called a cab for you sir," Geoffrey's face was impassive. "It's paid to take you to wherever you wish to go within the city."
"Where's Morgana?" Arthur demanded.
"Already packed," Geoffrey said. "As if she had seen this coming." Of course she had," Arthur thought. "She said you would know where to find her."
"Thank you." Arthur nodded and quit the house, closing the door behind him as hard as he could. He hoped, childishly, that his father could feel the slam in his bones, regret it.
It was misting outside - not heavy rain, that would have been far too poetic. Instead it was as if tiny drops of water, needle-sharp with cold, were frozen midair, soaking through Arthur's coat as he loaded his trunk in the hansom and gave the driver Gaius' address. There was at least half a chance that Morgana had meant to find her at Lancelot and Guinevere's, but Arthur could figure that out in the morning. He was exhausted, hollowed out, and he didn't care one whit for propriety any longer. He needed to see Merlin or he felt his entire world would crumble apart more than it already had.
As if he had heard Arthur's thoughts, Merlin was waiting for him under the gas lamp when Arthur arrived, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Arthur had not dared to hope, but there he was, more beautiful for being out of Arthur's reach for so long. He seemed to have thrown on his clothes hastily - his nightshirt was poorly tucked into his trousers, a mis-matching coat was thrown over the mess, and his hair was sticking up as if he had been running a hand through it nervously for a very long time. "Arthur," he choked out when Arthur leapt out of the hansom, tugging his trunk out with a thud onto the cobblestones. He was gazing at Arthur as if he had returned from the grave.
"I told my father I wanted to marry you," Arthur said. His voice was hollow, but steady. "He has disowned me. I have nowhere to go."
"Morgana said," Merlin replied. "She's upstairs, she was near hysterical, I've never seen - but then you didn't, you didn't come and I thought... and after our fight..."
"I'm not ashamed," Arthur said stiffly. "And I'm not half the coward you think I am. Now may we... I mean, please..." he turned his head away. It was the closest he had ever come to begging.
Abruptly, so fast he almost got whiplash, two hands grabbed his face and forced it forward, but before Arthur could protest the treatment Merlin's mouth was on his, kissing him as if he would die without it, as if he needed to know that Arthur was real. Arthur could do nothing but cling helplessly and return the kisses with equal fervor. By God, he'd needed this, needed to know he made the right decision, and he had, because Merlin loved him. He loved him, nothing unnatural about it, it was the most right and good thing in the world, and that was all that mattered to Arthur, the only thing he cared for. He needed Merlin's reed-thin body against his, needed to feel the tremble and know that he was not the only one overwhelmed and afraid. He needed to know that he mattered, that this mattered.
"I never let myself dream you would do this," Merlin whispered against Arthur's mouth, in between gasps of air that sounded almost like sobs. Arthur made a soft hushing noise and ran his hands up and down Merlin's back. "And I've loved you so... God, I love you so, Arthur."
"Idiot," Arthur said roughly. "What part of 'I love you and would do anything for you' was difficult for you to understand?"
"I didn't think you meant it quite this literally," Merlin said.
"I did," Arthur assured him. "I do. I'm also very cold."
"We can go inside," Merlin whispered against Arthur's lips. But they made no movement to break apart, instead remaining rooted to the spot, kissing desperately in the dim light of a streetlamp.
- - -
Though Arthur was loathe to admit when Merlin was right, he had been quite correct, at least on the subject of Arthur adjusting to a life quite without leisure. It was hard. Merlin and Gaius had allowed him a grace period of a week to mourn for his former life of luxury before putting him to work. Gaius had made it quite clear that if Arthur was to reside with them, he was to earn his keep. He did not wound Arthur's pride by suggesting he work out front with Will, where he would be seen - he was kinder than that. Instead he had Arthur perform the busywork Merlin used to do before his skills as a magician called him away to entertain bored groups of rich women and children shut indoors during the cold - labeling bottles of tonics and syrups, chopping up herbs, washing out bowls and measuring cups, and balancing the books. (This, Gaius had whispered to him, was a task he never had entrusted to Merlin because of his appalling tendency to drop zeros, but Arthur found he had quite a knack for it.)
All of this only served to highlight how privileged Arthur's life had been before he moved into Merlin and Gauis'. He knew how to do nothing. He was forced to abandon his dignity entirely and learn, as a child would, how to boil water for tea, how to make a bed and launder his clothes, how to make a meal last (and not turn his nose up at it when what was left was served re-heated), how to mend little tears that appeared in his shirts and hide those that could not be fixed, how to re-sew a button, how to coax coal fires to life. He swiftly learned not to go to Gaius with these everyday questions, for while Gaius would teach him, he would do so grumbling under his breath all the while about how terribly the ton spoiled their children. Merlin, though he mocked Arthur quite thoroughly the first few times, at least seemed to sense after Arthur had scalded his hand twice on the kettle and shouted far more than was necessary how deeply this wounded him, and taught Arthur far more patiently after that.
Morgana suffered none of these indignities. She, unlike Arthur, had lost no funds. She was of age, after all, and though it must have irked Uther mightily to lose control of her funds and lands without receiving a hefty dowry as a reward for minding them all those years, he was powerless to stop it. And she certainly cared not for the loss of her reputation, for she had never cared for it when she had it either. It was, Arthur supposed, more that she felt a sense of betrayal from both Uther and Valiant that irked her. Valiant she hated because she had trusted and grown fond of him, and could not forgive his transgression. Valiant had, with poorly-postured grace, called upon Morgana and made it clear that he would still lower himself to marry her, given that she gave over control of her lands and funds entirely, instead of her retaining some control as was stated in the initial marriage agreement. It was quite fortunate that Morgana had not only refused him, but slapped him across the face quite soundly, because Arthur had nearly done so himself, and Merlin looked as though he’d longed to turn Valiant into a rat and then drown him in the Thames.
Morgana also clearly mourned for the loss of Uther, though she claimed otherwise. Uther had been a father to her for most of her life, and their relationship had been sweet for far longer than it had been sour. As a child her vivacity and adventurousness had been praised, encouraged. Uther admired strength of character in both sexes. He believed that women far too often ill-educated and insipid, instead of bright, as Arthur's mother had once been, or full of proud conviction, as Morgana's had. During that part of her life, Morgana had adored Uther deeply, as he had her. It was not until Morgana began to become a woman that her convictions turned more often to rebellion, and the relationship between Father and ersatz daughter had begun to sour. Being disowned was the final blow in a long, bloody battle of two broken hearts, and though neither Morgana nor Uther would probably have admitted it, Arthur firmly believed that accepting the finality of never retrieving that old love must have pained both of them deeply, and rightly deserved time to bid a final farewell to.
Never one to sit idle, however, Morgana had, on the second morning at Gaius’, put on her best, most no-nonsense dress and bought the house she and Valiant had been looking to move to once they were wed - a prim, three-story gray stone building a short walk from Guinevere and Lancelot. It was far too big for one couple, let alone just Morgana, but Morgana and Valiant had once intended to fill it with children. Now, Morgana declared as she moved out on the third day, she would do the same, though not perhaps as anyone had ever intended her to.
"I am still learning magic myself," she said to Arthur as he helped her unload her trunks at her new home, "But Gaius says that I know nearly as much as he is able to teach me, and that I will now learn by studying with and teaching others. And I think I would like to teach - not the rich, of course, I'm quite done with them, but there are so very many of the lower class who have more magical power than they know how to use. And if it goes to waste or explodes with now warning or worse, gets exploited, why, that lends to crime in this city more than anything else. Oh do be careful with that lamp, Arthur, it's a gift from Guinevere and I'm rather fond of it."
"Morgana," Arthur said incredulously, setting said lamp down, "you seriously intend to take flea-infested orphans off the street and teach them magic?"
"Well, only if they already have magic," Morgana explained, as if Arthur was being insufferably slow. "What else do you expect me to do with my time, knit?"
Arthur would have much preferred that course of action, but he knew better than to tangle with Morgana, so he had dutifully set up her house and, once he was content to see that Morgana had armed herself with a Colt and promised that should any harm come to her that was not of the sort she could solve, she would call upon Lancelot, given her his blessing.
It was a bittersweet time for Arthur, recalibrating his life in ways he had never even thought to anticipate, bidding farewell to the Yuletide balls and gatherings he would normally be preparing himself for with, or the hot toddies in the club with his friends, and instead sweeping out the shop at the end of the day and balancing modest sums. To tell the truth, had it not been for Merlin, it would have been far, far more bitter than sweet.
Arthur knew, logically, that he wanted for nothing. His bed was warm, if not as plush as he was used to, his belly was full, if not with the finest food, and he had what he had never had when he was living in luxury - Merlin's open affections. It was this that kept him at Gaius' rather than boarding with Morgana in the rooms she had purchased with her inheritance and living off her charity. It was not, as Morgana had suggested, his wounded pride. Morgana may not have cared for her reputation in society, but Arthur cared for her, and he cared for Merlin. He could not, in good faith, bring Merlin to live in her house while she remained unwed (and she would remain so, for the foreseeable future) and he could no longer bear the thought of living a day apart from Merlin.
It was for Merlin he swallowed Gaius' lumpy porridges and burnt stews, for Merlin he picked the leaves off herbs that made his nose itch and his hands stink, for Merlin he gained calluses and roughened hands from the scalding hot water he rinsed pots and pans and mixing bowls under. For Merlin he choked back all of his complaints, because even now, he could feel Merlin's reserve, his doubts, his fear that Arthur would tire of this life and go running back to his father with his tail between his legs, could sense the immense power and fragility of Merlin's heart as it was slowly being bequeathed to him, inch by inch.
- - -
As a new matter of course, Merlin insisted on daily walks "for Arthur's mental well-being". Arthur, he declared after ten days, when Arthur had not left the house for a week, too afraid of running into someone he might know, was at risk of becoming a shut-in, and Merlin would not associate himself with a shut-in. Once Merlin coaxed him outside with a mixture of threats and bargains, Arthur found that his fears were, for the most part, unfounded. It rare to run into anyone he knew, and when he did, they usually went out of their way to avert their eyes, as if a fall from grace was a contagion, and this suited Arthur just fine. Besides a few of his close friends like Gawain and Leon, he'd never cared overmuch for the members of the ton he'd met, anyways.
Merlin and Arthur were taking a turn about the park, hand-in-hand, on one such walk on one of the few weakly sunny days of mid-November. Merlin had, as always, forgotten his gloves, which Arthur had begun to suspect he did rather on purpose, since he remembered them for every other outing, but he did not complain at Merlin's unsubtle request to clasp his hand. They were discussing one of the many inanities that made up their life together now - how fast the headache tonic was selling versus how fast the cough syrup, what that meant for how smelly Arthur's hands would be, how lumpy did they think the porridge would be the next morning - when a voice called out, "Well hello, cousin mine!" Arthur jerked his head up. There was only one person who called him that, and sure enough, there was Agravaine, blocking the path in front of him and Merlin with a careless smirk. He could feel Merlin stiffen beside him, but Arthur clutched Merlin's hand tighter prohibitively, so he could not escape.
"Hello, Agravaine," he said as calmly as possible. "You look well."
"I'm afraid I cannot say the same for you," Agravaine went on. "Indeed, the term 'cousin', it does not suit you and I very much anymore, now that you're a man without a family."
"I certainly have no qualms about disassociating myself from you," Arthur said coolly.
"And what's this!" Agravaine said as if he hadn't heard Arthur, widening his eyes comically. "If it isn't that same little bit of scum you were associating with earlier! Clearly you didn't do a very good job dealing with him, Arthur, as you promised you would. Why, his hand is clasped in yours most improperly!"
"I believe you are mistaken," Arthur said. "My hand is clasped in his, and I assure you it is no accident or hardship." He could tell Merlin was beaming smugly without even turning around, and he swept his thumb over the back of Merlin's hand as a private gesture of affection.
"Oh, this is too, too good!" Agravaine exclaimed with enough joy to set Arthur's teeth on edge. "The rumor is that you were disowned for defending Morgana, but that's not it at all, is it? No, your father ran you out because you fell for this pansy from a molly house! Well, quite rightly, I should say! Public sympathy will quite turn from you when they learn that this is the reason for your fall from grace, you and this invert are the very basest of sodomizers -"
Whatever else Agravaine may have been intending to say was cut off by Arthur punching him square in the face, breaking his nose with a satisfying crack. "Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed. Arthur couldn't tell if his tone was more scandalized or delighted, and he was far from caring enough to sort it out.
"You are never to call him that ever again!" Arthur bellowed, standing over Agravaine's shocked, prone form. He would have struck Agravaine again, just for daring to exist, but Merlin hauled him back.
"That's quite enough," he soothed, taking out his handkerchief and wiping the blood off Arthur’s knuckles. "My honor is quite thoroughly defended. Oh dear, these will bruise, I should think."
"He cannot say such things to you - to anyone," Arthur insisted. "I should have done that last time. No, I should have done that years ago, it’s no less than he deserves..."
"I know, darling." Merlin lifted Arthur's smarting knuckles and brushed them with his cool lips, coaxing a smile out of Arthur. "And believe me when I say you have quite redeemed yourself from last time at least ten times over. I -" He broke off when Agravaine let out an animalistic growl and rose again, tossing aside a bloody handkerchief of his own carelessly. "Don't come any closer," Merlin said, tone as icy cold as it had been warm a second before. "I don't need my fists to put you in a world of hurt."
Agravaine looked so enraged he seemed positively unhinged, hair askew, eyes popping out of his head. "You, you..." he spluttered. "I shall...I shall have you arrested for this!"
"I imagine you shall try," Merlin said. "But you see, you have no witnesses. It will come down to Arthur's word versus yours - I doubt the police care a whit if he's been disowned or not, he is still highly-born. And unlike you, Arthur has a witness in me, and I shall swear in front of any judge that it was you who attacked Arthur, and it was only due to your appalling lack of skill that Arthur managed to land a punch defending himself. In fact," Merlin turned to Arthur and gave him a victorious little smile, "I do believe that you would get a reward for that. Perhaps we should let him report us - I would not say no to the money."
Agravaine turned so red he was nearly puce, and could only splutter with rage as he turned and all but fled the scene. Arthur waited until he was quite gone before he trusted himself to look at Merlin without bursting into hysterical laughter.
"That was magnificent," he said giddily.
"It was quite satisfying," Merlin agreed, grinning back at Arthur.
"You were magnificent," Arthur insisted. He ran his hands over Merlin's face once, tenderly, marveling at his ability to do this for the world to see, and then pulled Merlin in for a kiss that Merlin returned eagerly. "I could not love you more," he whispered just loud enough for only Merlin to hear.
"Oh, I doubt that very much," Merlin murmured, wrapping his arm around Arthur’s waist so Arthur could walk with his arm around Merlin's shoulders and Merlin could rest his head on Arthur's shoulders, the two of them pressed together completely. "I hear I'm very charming."
"You are," Arthur said with a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Merlin's head. "It's a wonder I bothered resisting you at all."
"I often wonder that myself," Merlin agreed.
- - -
Arthur was unsurprised when Gawain called on him after the incident. Embarrassed, yes, and irritated, certainly, but not surprised.
"I suppose Agravaine acted as a sort of calling card? Very well - welcome to my den of iniquity," he said sardonically, bowing his cousin in. "Should I have my man draw us up a cup of tea?"
"Don't play with me, Arthur," Gawain snapped. Ah, it was to be that sort of visit. "What are you doing with yourself?"
"Chopping willow bark?" Arthur said. He felt distinctly as though he were a schoolboy who had been called in front of a headmaster, only it was worse, because it was Gawain, who was never serious.
"Arthur," Gawain sighed, removing his top hat and sitting down on one of the rickety dining room chairs. Arthur joined him awkwardly. "I'm worried about you."
"That must be a strain," Arthur attempted to joke. By Gawain's expression, he fell very short. "Agravaine called on you, did he?"
"He did," Gawain nodded. Arthur felt awkward, too restless to sit still, so he got up to put some water on to boil for tea. "Arthur, I defended you. I'm not here to berate you for your choices - you know I support you and always have. I just worry about how you're choosing to go about this whole... situation."
"How so?"
"You're refusing any help!" Gawain shouted. "I know you're proud but Arthur, this is utterly beyond the pale! Morgana has at least moved into her own place -"
"- she has funds I do not -"
"- and you seem to think you can live on love alone!" Gawain softened minutely when Arthur poured him some tea. "At least let me help you," he pled. "It's very admirable, what you're doing. You're acclimating so well, so much better than I could. But you needn't live like a pauper to prove a point."
"I can't," Arthur said shortly.
"Oh, damn your pride -"
"It isn't pride!" Arthur yelled. "It's Merlin. He..." Arthur took a bracing sip of his tea. "Merlin refused me at first not because he did not love me," he admitted. "He refused me because he believed I lived in an aristocratic fantasy. And I did. I honestly thought..." he laughed bitterly. "I thought my father would understand. He had loved my mother so, and I thought he'd see that I loved Merlin and give us his blessing. Or at least turn the other cheek."
"Because that sounds so much like your father," Gawain muttered. Arthur shot him a baleful look. "I apologize, carry on."
"Merlin fears the second my father offers me a chance to come running back to him, I'll go," Arthur went on. "And to take charity from you would be... it would be all of his very worst fears and suspicions. I cannot. I'd rather starve on love than feast without it."
Gawain was silent for a moment before he blinked and went, "Good god, you're revolting."
"Gawain!"
"Honestly, does Merlin know you're this maudlin and besotted? And he still puts up with you? I'd have kicked you out ages ago. Next you'll start reciting poetry about his eyes. I- ow!" He gingerly rubbed his shin where Arthur had kicked it. He and Arthur sat in silence, sipping their tea thoughtfully.
"How bad is the gossip?" Arthur asked finally, swirling the dregs at the bottom of his cup.
"Not too bad," Gawain shrugged. "The basics are known, of course - Morgana hasn't been discrete. All the riches of the Indies wouldn't be enough to keep her quiet. But the word on you is that you've lost favor with your father for defending her, and you're walking around London with your tail between your legs. Leon wanted the truth to be known, of course, he thinks the whole notion's romantic and would win you a great deal of sympathy and admirers, but Morgana and I managed to convince him that it would only hurt you and Merlin in the long run."
"Thank you," Arthur breathed, unaccountably relieved. If word got out so soon that Arthur had left his father's house and wealth for Merlin, there would be no end of trouble. Even more than Merlin's skill, it was his reputation that garnered him jobs. Though Arthur had wished to proclaim to the world the truth, Merlin had quite rightly talked him down, assured him that it was best to keep a low profile, to make it seem as though their romance blossomed once Arthur had fallen from grace, and was not the reason for it. If Merlin gained a reputation as a rake and seducer, even the slight trickle of income they had would dry up entirely. Between the truth of the matter and the idea of imagining Merlin as an immoral Lothario figure, Arthur found the entire situation deeply amusing. Merlin was certainly charming and perhaps a little rakish, but Arthur very much doubted anyone who had been in Merlin's presence for several moments could ever believe Merlin capable of calculated, deliberate, malicious seduction -the very idea was laughable. Even he, who had initially believed Merlin to be guilty of exactly such a crime, had quickly realized the error of his ways, and Arthur was not one to revoke judgment. Merlin's distress and inability to find the idea of such rumors humorous, however, had left Arthur bowing to Merlin's whims. As, it seemed, he always did.
"It will come out eventually," Gawain said sensibly, finishing his own tea and pouring himself another cup. "You can't lock yourself away forever."
"Yes," Arthur agreed, "but it shan't seem improper until we move in together."
"At which point I'm sure Merlin will keep you far too occupied to pay heed to rumors," Gawain teased, smirking at Arthur so very lasciviously he found himself blushing as he hadn't since he was eleven and Gawain explained what truly happened on one's marriage night. "Or perhaps you shall keep him too occupied. Unless, of course, neither of you has any honor or virtue left, in which case..."
"Gawain!" Arthur yelped, his face burning. "I! It's not! We're both very virtuous thank you. We are near brimming with virtue. We are positively infested with virtue and propriety. "
Gawain raised his brows. "You and Merlin not dabbing it up quite yet?"
"Good God!" Arthur had thought he could not possibly be more embarrassed and uncomfortable. He was so very, very wrong. "Gawain! That's not... and no, not that it's any of your business, but the idea of Gaius overhearing us, and while Merlin still has doubts, and, and no! And why am I even telling you this? My God, man, if I didn't know better I'd think you were raised in a hovel."
"Well," Gawain said sensibly, as if they were discussing the weather instead of carnal relations (or lack thereof), "I think it's best we got you and Merlin your own rooms as soon as possible, then, don't you?"
Arthur was too flustered to respond immediately and instead poured himself yet another cup of tea, wishing he'd fortified it with something a little stronger. "I... yes." He said finally after he had taken enough calming sips to feel less like he wanted to run into the back room and lock the door. "I've invested my funds from my mother and we were hoping to... yes."
"Please," Gawain snorted. "You and I both know that your mother's wealth was invested almost entirely in Tintagel, which you have no share of until your father dies, if you have any share at all, I might add. If you're waiting until you get solid returns on that little bit of pocket change before you and Merlin consummate your relationship, all the necessary parts will have grown mold in the meantime."
"If this has a point, you need to get to it now, before I kick you out."
"You need money," Gawain said frankly. "And for that, you need employment."
"I've been helping Gaius," Arthur pointed out, gesturing to the willow bark that was neatly bundled together. "I'm earning my keep."
"Gainful employment," Gawain said. "Leon and I put our heads together, and we've managed to use our contacts to get you a well-paying job with the East India Company." He waited meaningfully, as if he expected Arthur to fall to his knees in gratitude.
"A job?" Arthur asked, horrified. "Gawain, I'm aristocracy, fallen or not. I can hardly be seen working."
"You can if you ever expect to provide Merlin with any sort of life of comfort."
Arthur was brought up short by Gawain's bald statement. "I have my pride," he said softly. "I may love Merlin, but I have my pride."
"You cannot live on pride," Gawain said simply. "Think about it, Arthur."
"Very well," Arthur sighed, and showed his cousin out before sitting heavily down at the scrubbed wooden table and burying his head in his hands.
- - -
Part Seven
- - -
If one thing could be said for Uther Pendragon, it was that he was a decisive man. When his mind was made up, it was truly made up. He had made it clear that he wished for Morgana to get married as soon and as advantageously as possible, and he quite obviously had decided that it was not happening as rapidly as he desired. Arthur had warned Morgana that if she did not take the imminent threat of marriage seriously instead of ignoring it in favor of magic lessons, Uther would make her decision for her. But as usual, at the mere mention of 'marriage' Morgana had scoffed, declaring Arthur so obsessed with marriage that he was not content to plot simply his own, but had to foist the institution upon her as well, and so Arthur had held his council.
But Uther had not been idle while Morgana frittered away the season. The men who Arthur had seen coming and going from the house had not been, as he assumed, the usual business or political contacts, but rather marriage prospects. The second they returned from Cornwall, Uther had sat Morgana in front of him and explained that he had whittled her marriage prospects down to two dozen men and if she did not choose one to become engaged to so she could be married next Season, the choice would be made for her. What had followed was a long, arduous fight that Arthur had been stuck in the middle of, but as much as Morgana had railed, Uther had remained firm, and thus a series of "auditions" began.
"You cad," Merlin laughed as Arthur related this story and the subsequent tale of the carriage ride he had been present on during which Morgana reduced the Lord of Dudley to tears in under ten minutes. "You're enjoying this whole debacle!"
"If I must go along with this entire farce, I may as well enjoy myself," Arthur shrugged, throwing an arm around Merlin, who shot him a look that was half fond, half irritated at Arthur's continued caviler attitude for trying to reign in such obvious signs of romantic affection. "Besides, she was warned. Extensively. She chose to ignore and instead of making the best of the situation, she has backed herself into a corner as always."
"And I imagine you would do better," Merlin scoffed.
"Of course," Arthur said. "I would choose you."
The fondness in Merlin's expression entirely overtook the irritation and he leaned forward as if to kiss Arthur, but then seemed to remember himself, and pulled away.
"None of that," Arthur murmured, reeling him back in for the kiss he'd nearly been denied.
Merlin sighed and smiled into Arthur's mouth, nipping Arthur's lower lip lightly for his cheek. "Are there any good prospects?" He asked when Arthur finally let him go.
"Of course not," Arthur sighed. "They're all either such spineless nancies they'd blow over at a gust of wind, let alone Morgana in a temper, or they're as authoritarian as Father, and just as intolerant of magic. Morgana can't live the rest of her life hiding this part of herself - I'd sooner marry Morgana myself than see her with a man that she lives in fear of."
"Morgana doesn't fear anything," Merlin soothed him, patting Arthur's leg. "I'm sure she'll find someone suitable."
As if Merlin possessed fortune-telling powers of his own, the very next day Arthur and Morgana were introduced to Earl Valiant of the Western Isles, the younger brother to the Duke of Argyll. He was certainly one of the most ambitious matches on Uther's list of prospects, but he had been in and about the aristocratic scene in London and while he was a very attractive prospect, he, like Morgana, had always been so strong-willed he had scared away all suitors. And, like Morgana, he avoided any events where he could meet someone suitable, and when he did appear, he put all his effort into intimidating the competition. Since Morgana had come of age, they had not encountered each other, and their first meeting, Arthur was sure, would be highly entertaining.
And it was, but not at all in the way Arthur had expected it. He, as ever, was there to act as chaperon, and watched helplessly as what should have been an extremely riveting shouting match instead play out into a highly amicable sparring match between two evenly matched opponents. Valiant was smart, if a bit ruthless and unprincipled for Arthur's taste, and had no trouble differing to Morgana when it came to subjects where her intellect exceeded his own, so long as she acknowledged and praised him in kind, which she seemed to pick up instinctively. There was, however, no spark between them that Arthur could discern, for all that they managed to tame each other. Arthur was sure someone in the next ten men would catch her eye, yet no one stepped forward. It was then at the end of the month that Morgana, with no fuss at all, calmly informed Uther that she would accept Valiant's suit.
"You can't be serious," Arthur spluttered when Morgana came to him and told him the deed was already done. He had expected at least a month's worth of shouting matches before Uther reverted to choosing by blindfolding himself and throwing darts.
"Why shouldn't I choose Valiant?" Morgana asked, flicking her hair back. "I don't believe in love - not as you do. A man has not held my interest for years, not since I was quite besotted with that revolutionary at boarding school - a terrible phase, I think we'll both agree." Arthur nodded, remembering the summer when when a fiery, impassioned Morgana had verbatim repeated the words of a young radical named Alvarr - a crook who made a habit of converting young girls at her school and then using them to fund his ring of magically-aided criminals. Uther had him arrested on the spot, and as far as Arthur he was languishing in prison somewhere. Good riddance, as far as he was concerned, even though Morgana had pitched a fit for weeks and sworn to never forgive Uther for what he'd done. Though Alvarr had clearly effected and shaped Morgana into the woman that stood before Arthur now, Arthur did not believe Morgana had truly loved the man, or that it was anything more than an extremely foolish and childish infatuation. Yet she still had shown no interest in any man - or woman, for that matter - after him. It was as though she had sampled the barest taste of the fruits of love, had been horribly disappointed in her experience, and thus chosen simply never to open her heart again. Such a decision was beyond Arthur. It seemed the greatest pity he could think of, the surest way to make life not worth living.
"So long as Uther counts me as his daughter I shall be forced to marry," Morgana went on ruthlessly. "And if I am forced, I may as well choose a husband I do not detest, and who is not one foot in the grave. Valiant and I share an understanding of each other and shall grow to be quite good friends, I believe. And once we are married I shan't have to hide my magic anymore, for Valiant has voiced to me on more than one occasion that he is far more liberal than Uther when it comes to magic and can see the use it can be put to. He's even moderately handsome. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't marry him, Arthur, because I cannot think of one myself!"
"Because you do not love him!" Arthur shouted. "By God, Morgana, I know your heart is closed now, but I had more faith in you to stand up for what you believe in!"
"No," Morgana said furiously, "you wanted me to stand up for what you believe in, to excuse your actions so that whenever you got together your courage to speak to your father about Merlin, you wouldn't look so deviant in contrast. I will not do it, Arthur!"
"It's not for my sake," Arthur protested. "But you have never let yourself experience love, Morgana. Why can't you try it, just once, before you give up your freedom?"
"Freedom?" Morgana let out a weird, high-pitched shriek of laughter. "I have no freedom! I will never have any freedom! That's your problem, Arthur, you think that everyone else in the world exists as you do - without any cares or concerns. What good will love do me? For that matter, what good has it ever done anyone? What good has it done you?"
Arthur was silent for a long moment, swishing his port in his mouth as he looked at Morgana in the firelight, willing himself not to rise to her bait as he took several deep breaths and then swallowed. "It is the greatest good I have ever experienced," he said finally. "And if you had ever been in love, even the littlest bit, you would never think to ask me that."
"Well then," Morgana said stiffly. "I suppose in that way, we shall never understand each other, shall we?"
"No," Arthur agreed. "I suppose we never shall."
- - -
Arthur continued to strongly disapprove of Morgana's engagement to Valiant, even if they had defied Uther by refusing to be married in the next season, preferring a long engagement to a rushed wedding. Aside from a weekly carriage ride, the two hardly saw each other, and did not seem to share a greater intimacy once pledged as Arthur had hoped they might. It irked him at the most fundamental level, made him feel as though he were witnessing a bizarre, socially acceptable form of prostitution, and made him cling tighter than ever to the belief that he would never marry for anything other than the very truest of love - namely, Merlin. If he could not have Merlin, he would have no one at all. Arthur's declarations of his renewed intentions altered between softening Merlin's imposed ban on romantic interludes and pushing up his walls higher than ever, but Arthur would not be dissuaded. He loved Merlin, adored him completely, and all rebuffs were made worth Merlin's wavering. He would be shot down a hundred times if it meant that for every hundred he got one time of them together, blissful, as if the world did not exist.
"There is something to be said for marriages that are not the product of love," Merlin said one day as they were taking a turn about the park, Arthur complaining of Morgana's impeding nuptials as usual. It was a cool day, November's imminent arrival in the air, and it was hard to tell if Merlin was walking close to Arthur and clasping his hand more because he was cold or because he was affectionate, but Arthur was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Romance all very well and good in fairytales, Arthur, but in real life, well, look at us."
"I think we are an excellent argument for true love," Arthur murmured with a careless grin, lifting Merlin's icy hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. At Arthur's gesture, Merlin blushed the most alluring pink, pleased and failing so very much to hide it that Arthur loved him even more for it. "We are quite the modern-day Romeo and Juliet."
Merlin shot him a fond, baleful look, the kind that suggested he thought Arthur was lovely and quite probably dropped on his head repeatedly by incompetent nursemaids as a child. "You do realize, my dear fellow, that the protagonists and namesakes die at the end of that play? And quite dramatically, I might add."
"Which is why we are adding our own, more modern, twist," Arthur said cheerfully. "Keep up. Unlike them, you need only say the word and we will be whisked into a life of endless happiness and utter devotion, leaving throngs of jealous onlookers in our wake wherever we go, and they shall pen a new play, entirely in our honor."
"Arthur," Merlin laughed. "That is not..."
"You're not planning on dying, are you my dear?" Arthur inquired, cheerfully interrupting Merlin's no-doubt endless and utterly boring recitations of all the reasons they were doomed to fail. It was getting quite old, honestly. They had not self-destructed into a pit of broken hearts yet, nor had any of the horsemen of the apocalypse made themselves known, and so Arthur felt quite justified in his belief that Merlin's dire predictions of doom were horribly exaggerated. "Because I should warn you, I'd find that most unfavorable. You are strictly banned from any sort of demise without my express orders."
"You are..." Merlin began, but what, exactly, Arthur was, was destined to never be known, for at that moment a man's voice boomed across the park, "Cousin Arthur!", and Merlin jumped so fast from Arthur's side it was as though he had been burned.
"Agravaine," Arthur nodded when his cousin had come within reasonable distance. Though Agravaine was the closest in age to Arthur of all of his cousins, he was by far Arthur's least favorite. He was as tall as his brother, Gawain, but with none of his bulk or vibrancy. Where Gawain was ruddy, Agravaine was colorless. Where Gawain had riotous curls Agravaine had neat, limp, straw-like hair. Agravaine's features echoed his brother's but were sharper, with none of the lines of good humor around his hazel eyes, making them flat and joyless. Agravaine had inherited all the worst traits of his father - the slow-burning temper, the calculating mind - with none of his warm-hearted charms. Arthur loathed him, and the feeling was mutual. "I did not know you were in town. What brings you here?"
"I just got in yesterday," Agravaine said. "I plan on setting up in London so I may be well-established for the season. Gawain looks to never get married, and if something unfortunate were to happen to him, well... after the twins married, I thought it only prudent that I should as well, should something... unforeseeable befall my dear, dear eldest brother."
"How kind of you," Arthur drawled.
"And I hear Morgana is set to marry this season as well! How felicitous, I shall have to pay a visit to congratulate her. It seems everyone is getting married except you and Gawain, Arthur. Then again, you always were unnaturally close."
Merlin made a small choking noise at the blatant insinuation from where he was attempting to hide behind Arthur, and Arthur could only roll his eyes. Implying that he and Gawain were closer than cousins should be was one of Agravaine's most common ploys, and one of his most nonsensical. Anyone who talked to Gawain for five minutes knew that he remained a bachelor simply because he could not bear to choose only one woman, and implying that it was because he and Arthur shared a sexual relationship said more about Agravaine's jealousy and inability to understand friendship or human kindness more than it said about Arthur or Gawain.
"And who's this skulking behind you?" Agravaine asked, eyes lighting on Merlin in a way that made Arthur feel ill. "A little rat, from the looks of it."
"This is Merlin Emrys," Arthur said coldly. "He is a friend of mine. And your brother's, I might add." Friend was perhaps stretching Merlin and Gawain's relationship - it was a warm acquaintance, but Arthur was sure they'd only met perhaps two or three times in their lives.
"Well," Agravaine snorted, "you always were fond of slumming it."
"Excuse you," Merlin cut in, clearly having reached the end of his temper. Arthur tried to step on Merlin's foot, to warn him that Agravaine was not the person to trade barbs with, but hat just earned him a glare.
"I see this one has a mouth," Agravaine leered. "And what a pretty one, too. You do like them spunky. Just wait until I tell your father about this." Arthur felt a cold ball of dread clench in his stomach.
"There's no need for that," he said bracingly, shooting Merlin a warning glare. "Merlin is an entertaining companion to walk with, nothing more. I find his unique perspective... invigorating."
"In that case, you won't mind if I pay him to leave," Agravaine said, fingers inching towards his coat pocket. "A few coins for him to learn his place."
"There's no need, I have it quite under control," Arthur said in a voice that offered no room for argument. "Good day, Cousin. Come along, Merlin." He took Merlin's arm and dragged him, unable to look at his expression of pale fury or Agravaine's self-satisfied smirk. To Merlin's credit, he waited until they were well away from Agravaine before wrenching his arm out of Arthur's grasp.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Arthur said when they were under their favorite tree, hidden from view. He put his hand out to grasp Merlin's shoulder and perhaps pull him close, but Merlin jerked away.
"Don't touch me," Merlin snarled, turning away. "Don't try to woo me when I am just your... entertainment."
"Merlin," Arthur begged, catching his wrist. "Please, let's discuss this. That wasn't what I meant -"
"There is nothing to discuss," Merlin said coldly, cutting Arthur off. "You have made it quite clear I am something to be managed, to be," his face twisted, "to be taken care of, and I will spare you that painful responsibility."
"You know I don't mean that," Arthur said. "But do you honestly think I would ever, ever wish Agravaine to speak for me, to tell my father of this? Do you think I'd ever want to let him know how much you mean to me when it's clear that there's only a block of ice where his heart should be?"
Merlin's eyes narrowed. "Fine," he spat out. "In that case, I'll accept your suit. Now you must tell your father, if you're not too much of a coward."
Arthur felt as though he was very rapidly losing what little control he had over this situation. This wasn't how he wanted it, Merlin accepting him to prove a point, Merlin in a fury. This was the last thing he wanted. He shook his head. "I don't accept that, Merlin. You're in a temper. You need to think about what you're suggesting, what you're agreeing to..."
"No, Arthur, you need to think about what you're offering before you offer it, when it's clear you'll never do what you promise!"
"I can!" Arthur plead. "I will one day, Merlin, when the time is right. I love you. Don't you believe I love you?"
Merlin sighed and crossed his arms. "No," he said after a long look at Arthur. "I don't believe you know what love is."
Arthur would have preferred if Merlin had slapped him. "I do," he insisted helplessly. "I do love you."
"Goodbye, Arthur," Merlin said, turning away. His face was terrible and blank, emotionless, as if it didn't hurt him at all to leave. Were Arthur a lesser man, he would have burst into tears, thrown himself at Merlin's feet and begged for his forgiveness. He wished he were a lesser man. But he could not move from where he was, couldn't believe this wasn't all a terrible dream. "Do let me know when you figure out what it is to love someone, if you ever do."
"Don't leave me," he begged. "Please, I can't..."
"Oh, Arthur, I'm not leaving," Merlin said bitterly. "I imagine we shall run into each other again one day, at some ball or another. I'll be the one magicking your cucumber sandwich so it doesn't taste stale."
"But..."
"Remember me for your wedding," was all Merlin said, and then he was gone, leaving Arthur terribly, utterly alone.
- - -
Besides coming over to visit Morgana, Valiant often made his presence known in Grosvener Square in order to shut himself with Uther in the study and go over all the details required so he could take over running the small, Cornish estate near their own that Morgana's father had left in her name to be given to her husband as a dowry. Arthur found the entire affair distasteful and was of the very strong opinion that Valiant cared more for the tin and copper recently found on the property than he did for Morgana, but Morgana had snapped at him and told him if he said one more word against the marriage, she would cut out his tongue with her butter knife.
It was true, Arthur was unusually peevish towards everything, especially Morgana and her marriage and anything that reminded him of Merlin at all, given that for the first time, Merlin's refusal to speak to him was absolute. No matter how many times Arthur went to Gaius', how many pathetic, pleading letters he penned and gifts of magical books and candies he sent, Merlin was utterly unmoved. The only way he could get any confirmation that Merlin was indeed alive was if he let Morgana go to magic lessons on her own and then pumped her for information when she returned. Had Merlin received his note? How did Merlin feel on the subject of the pro-magic editorial in the Times that day? Was Merlin looking well? Did his heart feel as broken as Arthur's did? Did he miss him?
Morgana had little to no patience for playing Cupid's messenger and would not answer any of Arthur's questions other than to say that Merlin's health was fine, Merlin was fine, and if Arthur did not stop pestering her she would resort to violence. Morgana, too, was of a short temper. Her nightmares had returned, but they were vague, indistinct, and it was clear she was fast growing frustrated by her inability to relate to Arthur what doom she was sure would befall them, only that she was sure it would happen.
"You have no idea how frustrating it is!" She complained to Arthur, having just tossed her embroidery aside in a fit of pique. "It is a constant headache! A storm is coming, I know it, and if only I could see it, I could prevent it, but I cannot tell anything at all!"
"I think you're a bit late," Arthur said gloomily, gesturing to the window where the November weather was at its usual slate gray sky and sleet finest. "It looks to me like the storm has already come. And it has been this way for a week. Your forecasting could use some work."
"Oh, you think you're clever," Morgana sneered, but any further derision was interrupted by the slamming of Uther's study door, and then Valiant's subsequent exit. His expression was... strange, Arthur thought edgily, putting down his book, and he gave Morgana a long, odd look that she returned curiously.
"Farewell, Morgana," he said finally. "I pray one day you will forgive me."
"Forgive you?" Morgana asked, beginning to sound concerned. "Valiant, what -"
"I shall take this from here," Uther said entering the sitting room behind Valiant. He was is pale and shaking with fury and, Arthur knew, as he and Morgana locked gazes for a terrified moment, this was the storm Morgana had foreseen. Valiant seemed to sense the imminent danger and left the room with a bob of his head, the coward. "Morgana," Uther said coldly, "I have just heard a most scurrilous accusation against you, and I shall give you one chance to tell me it is false, or that it is untrue, or to renounce what you have done, and if you do not, I cannot overstate the consequences."
"Very well," Morgana replied, all cool composure in the line of fire as always. "I have done nothing wrong."
"Then you were not leaving the house on your own?"
Oh, Arthur thought, relieved, that's all this is. "That's my fault, Father," he piped up. "I've been feeling not quite the thing, lately, and I could hardly confine Morgana to the house for that, now could I? I apologize, I should have seen to an escort."
"You should have," Uther agreed, building in fury the longer he spoke. "But it is not her lack of escort that concerns me. I had warned Valiant that Morgana had a habit of slipping out of the house, and it concerned him, so he had Morgana tailed - protecting his investment, as it were. And what concerns me is that Morgana was leaving the house for magic lessons."
Instantly, the world stopped turning. Arthur's heart stopped beating. He felt frantic, like he could not breathe, could not think except for the repeated thought of Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, crying out like a panicking child in his head. It wasn't meant to be like this, it was meant to be with Merlin at his side, with Merlin his, without a doubt in the world, not with the very real possibility that even if he gathered his courage, Merlin could turn him away, leave him with less than nothing.
"Tell me Valiant is wrong, Morgana," Uther went on in a low, terrible voice. "Tell me he is a lying knave, attempting to get a better deal out of me, that you know nothing of what he tells me."
"No," Morgana said firmly, white as a sheet. "No, I will not."
A slap rang out in the room, sharp as a gunshot, and Morgana crouched over, clutching her cheek. Arthur made a motion to rush to her side, but was quelled by Morgana shaking her head minutely. "Think about what you say, child," Uther growled. "Because this may cost you more than a betrothal."
"You may strike me as you like, Uther Pendragon," Morgana said. She tilted her chin up proudly, despite the growing redness on her cheek. "You may throw me in the dungeons, hang me in the gallows. It will not change what I am or can do."
"This is the thanks I get?" Uther asked, advancing on her again. "For raising you as my own, for loving you as your own daughter, you turn your back on me? That is how you repay me?"
"You never loved me at all," Morgana said icily. "If you had loved me, you would not have spent so many years keeping me in the dark, denying what I had become. You knew the signs, Uther. You knew. And you let yourself believe that I could be controlled, that I could be ignored and fit into your little box, be a pretty pawn in your game. But I will be no one's pawn."
"If that is how you feel, then get out," Uther snarled. "Get out of my house. Get out of my life. From here on out, you are dead to me."
"And you to me," Morgana replied. "Goodbye, Uther. I'll see you in hell."
The silence was terrible as Morgana strode out of the room, the air so thick with tension Arthur could hardly breathe. Perhaps if he melted into the chair, his father would forget Arthur ever existed, perhaps Arthur's involvement in this affair could be forgotten entirely... but it was a foolish hope. As soon as the doorway to Morgana's chambers slammed and no doubt furious packing began, Uther whirled on his son.
"You knew," he declared, as if passing judgment on Arthur, as if he had found him guilty of murder. "All these months, and you hid this from me."
"She was doing nothing illegal," Arthur protested weakly, feeling as though he were eight years old again and caught trying to climb out his window. "Basic magic is even fashionable, in some circles. And it was doing her health a world of good - her sleep was much improved. I did not see the harm in indulging her whims."
"Then you have grown complacent," Uther said dismissively. "What have I always told you about magic users? They are weak," Arthur shut his eyes, trying to block the image of Merlin's plaintive face that popped up in his mind the second his father uttered the words 'magic users'. "They are lazy good-for-nothings who are warped by the power they hold."
No, a rebellious voice in Arthur's head whispered, scenes flashing before his eyes so rapidly he felt dizzy. Merlin smiling, Merlin laughing, Merlin's eyes lit by sparkling lights, Merlin speaking of his father, his mother, Gaius, Gwen, Lancelot, Freya, Merlin kissing him, Merlin struggling to pull away, the love in Merlin's eyes, Merlin's voice as Arthur replayed it to himself every night before he went to sleep, soft with wonder when he whispered I love you, Arthur Pendragon. God knows why, but I love you, I do, I love you, I love you.
"They are unprincipled." Merlin dripping, blinking and sopping wet next to Arthur in the pond. "They are conniving." Merlin's face, screwed up in distaste as Arthur offered him roasted nuts, Gawain laughing at the two of them with all the faith in the world, fond, encouraging. "They care for nothing but themselves." Merlin tucked close to him, dancing, so happy he looked near tears, the scent of flowers in the heavy summer air. "They warp your mind." Merlin's hands on his face, gentle, long, delicate white fingers tracing the contours of his cheeks with so much love Arthur wanted to drown in it. "They make you believe anything is possible and never tell you the cost." Merlin's reproach, Merlin turning his face away. Merlin shouting, red with anger. Arthur failing, failing Merlin again...
"No!" Arthur yelled, leaping to his feet. "What you say is wrong! I have met them and yes, there are bad people who use magic, terrible people, but there are people who are good, people who love and live just like you and I and I will not have you besmirching them or their talents because you fear what they can do!"
Uther looked dumbfounded. "How can you defend these people?" He asked. "These people who took your mother from you!"
"No," Arthur insisted, his hands clenching into fists. "No, Father. One of them took my mother from me." He closed his eyes, unwilling to see his father's face when he spoke his next words. "And I am in love with another who did no such thing."
Uther scoffed and poured himself a stiff drink. "Naturally," he said sardonically. "And you wish to marry this little witch, I suppose? Crafted yourself another romantic little hovel in the air, for you to live in?"
"I do," Arthur said firmly. Strange, he had feared this moment for so long, and yet here it was, his father as bad as his worst fears, and all he felt was a strange disconnect from the whole thing, as if he were a casual audience member watching an opera. "I wish to marry him."
"Him."
"Merlin Emrys," Arthur confirmed. Uther's eyes narrowed.
"You mean the new man everyone's been all atwitter over at balls this season?"
"Dr. Gaius' - Morgana's tutor's - assistant," Arthur clarified. "He's not as lackwitted as he seems." An understatement, to be sure.
"No," Uther said thoughtfully, as if placing puzzle pieces together. "No, he's been put on watch lists ever since he started popping up - they say he's the most powerful sorcerer in Britain in generations. I had not believed such a man would be wasting himself on party tricks, but it makes sense now." He took a decisive swallow of Scotch. "This has all been a ploy to strike at me, a ploy from the beginning. He has enchanted you."
Arthur blinked, taken aback. The thought had never even occurred to him, honestly, though perhaps it should have. Merlin was fantastically powerful, it was a possibility, but it simply did not sit right. "I don't think that's likely," he said finally. "I've been reliably informed that love can only be emulated by magic, not created."
"What, and you wouldn't put it past an extraordinarily powerful man to find a way to do so?"
"Not without creating a Great Working, no, I would not." Uther took another thoughtful swig of Scotch and glared at Arthur as if assessing him.
"You are right," he said finally. "I do believe you are just lackwitted enough to have truly fallen for him of your own accord." Arthur could not decide if he was more offended or perversely bemused by his father's assessment. "However," his father went on, "he's unsuitable. You'll end your relations with him immediately. I will pay, of course, if it comes to that." He turned away, apparently satisfied that the matter had been settled.
By all accounts, Arthur realized numbly, it should have been. His father had given him the same instructions with both Sophia and Guinevere and he had, after much argument, done exactly that, walked away only to have his heart mended a few months later. Here was his chance to do so again, and yet the thought of taking it tore something vital inside Arthur, made him so miserable he wished to die rather than live a moment having made such decision, to live without Merlin. Merlin, who he loved more than ever, a fundamental lack of faith in Arthur or no. This time, his father was wrong.
"I will not," he said.
Uther turned around slowly, as if he was unsure of his own ears. "Think carefully, Arthur," he warned. "I have disowned one ungrateful child, and you being my son does not give me qualms about doing it again. If you continue this association you will be disinherited."
Arthur gave himself a moment to bid farewell to his easy life. It wasn't difficult at all. "Then disinherit me," he said. "I will bear that sooner than I would follow your orders."
"Then pack," Uther said harshly after a long moment of silence. He looked Arthur over once, harsh and searching, as if gleaning any last bits of Arthur's mother that were in his face before turning away. "You are no longer my son."
"Very well," Arthur said numbly, quitting the room. "Goodbye, Uther Pendragon."
Arthur packed in a daze. He had very few possessions, he realized. The furniture he thought of as his, the fixings that made up a house, they belonged to his father. His clothes and personal effects went in his trunk easily enough, and he didn't care to take any of the dry histories his father had given him over the years. Llamrai, Hengroen, and Passelande could be sent along, perhaps there was a stable in London he could house them in - his father wasn't a horse man. But it was one trunk, in the end. His life fit into one large trunk. The house was silent when he dragged his trunk down the stairs. No doubt his father had fled and was hiding in his chambers to avoid having to see his children leave, but his father's butler Geoffrey was standing there, waiting for him.
"I've called a cab for you sir," Geoffrey's face was impassive. "It's paid to take you to wherever you wish to go within the city."
"Where's Morgana?" Arthur demanded.
"Already packed," Geoffrey said. "As if she had seen this coming." Of course she had," Arthur thought. "She said you would know where to find her."
"Thank you." Arthur nodded and quit the house, closing the door behind him as hard as he could. He hoped, childishly, that his father could feel the slam in his bones, regret it.
It was misting outside - not heavy rain, that would have been far too poetic. Instead it was as if tiny drops of water, needle-sharp with cold, were frozen midair, soaking through Arthur's coat as he loaded his trunk in the hansom and gave the driver Gaius' address. There was at least half a chance that Morgana had meant to find her at Lancelot and Guinevere's, but Arthur could figure that out in the morning. He was exhausted, hollowed out, and he didn't care one whit for propriety any longer. He needed to see Merlin or he felt his entire world would crumble apart more than it already had.
As if he had heard Arthur's thoughts, Merlin was waiting for him under the gas lamp when Arthur arrived, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Arthur had not dared to hope, but there he was, more beautiful for being out of Arthur's reach for so long. He seemed to have thrown on his clothes hastily - his nightshirt was poorly tucked into his trousers, a mis-matching coat was thrown over the mess, and his hair was sticking up as if he had been running a hand through it nervously for a very long time. "Arthur," he choked out when Arthur leapt out of the hansom, tugging his trunk out with a thud onto the cobblestones. He was gazing at Arthur as if he had returned from the grave.
"I told my father I wanted to marry you," Arthur said. His voice was hollow, but steady. "He has disowned me. I have nowhere to go."
"Morgana said," Merlin replied. "She's upstairs, she was near hysterical, I've never seen - but then you didn't, you didn't come and I thought... and after our fight..."
"I'm not ashamed," Arthur said stiffly. "And I'm not half the coward you think I am. Now may we... I mean, please..." he turned his head away. It was the closest he had ever come to begging.
Abruptly, so fast he almost got whiplash, two hands grabbed his face and forced it forward, but before Arthur could protest the treatment Merlin's mouth was on his, kissing him as if he would die without it, as if he needed to know that Arthur was real. Arthur could do nothing but cling helplessly and return the kisses with equal fervor. By God, he'd needed this, needed to know he made the right decision, and he had, because Merlin loved him. He loved him, nothing unnatural about it, it was the most right and good thing in the world, and that was all that mattered to Arthur, the only thing he cared for. He needed Merlin's reed-thin body against his, needed to feel the tremble and know that he was not the only one overwhelmed and afraid. He needed to know that he mattered, that this mattered.
"I never let myself dream you would do this," Merlin whispered against Arthur's mouth, in between gasps of air that sounded almost like sobs. Arthur made a soft hushing noise and ran his hands up and down Merlin's back. "And I've loved you so... God, I love you so, Arthur."
"Idiot," Arthur said roughly. "What part of 'I love you and would do anything for you' was difficult for you to understand?"
"I didn't think you meant it quite this literally," Merlin said.
"I did," Arthur assured him. "I do. I'm also very cold."
"We can go inside," Merlin whispered against Arthur's lips. But they made no movement to break apart, instead remaining rooted to the spot, kissing desperately in the dim light of a streetlamp.
- - -
Though Arthur was loathe to admit when Merlin was right, he had been quite correct, at least on the subject of Arthur adjusting to a life quite without leisure. It was hard. Merlin and Gaius had allowed him a grace period of a week to mourn for his former life of luxury before putting him to work. Gaius had made it quite clear that if Arthur was to reside with them, he was to earn his keep. He did not wound Arthur's pride by suggesting he work out front with Will, where he would be seen - he was kinder than that. Instead he had Arthur perform the busywork Merlin used to do before his skills as a magician called him away to entertain bored groups of rich women and children shut indoors during the cold - labeling bottles of tonics and syrups, chopping up herbs, washing out bowls and measuring cups, and balancing the books. (This, Gaius had whispered to him, was a task he never had entrusted to Merlin because of his appalling tendency to drop zeros, but Arthur found he had quite a knack for it.)
All of this only served to highlight how privileged Arthur's life had been before he moved into Merlin and Gauis'. He knew how to do nothing. He was forced to abandon his dignity entirely and learn, as a child would, how to boil water for tea, how to make a bed and launder his clothes, how to make a meal last (and not turn his nose up at it when what was left was served re-heated), how to mend little tears that appeared in his shirts and hide those that could not be fixed, how to re-sew a button, how to coax coal fires to life. He swiftly learned not to go to Gaius with these everyday questions, for while Gaius would teach him, he would do so grumbling under his breath all the while about how terribly the ton spoiled their children. Merlin, though he mocked Arthur quite thoroughly the first few times, at least seemed to sense after Arthur had scalded his hand twice on the kettle and shouted far more than was necessary how deeply this wounded him, and taught Arthur far more patiently after that.
Morgana suffered none of these indignities. She, unlike Arthur, had lost no funds. She was of age, after all, and though it must have irked Uther mightily to lose control of her funds and lands without receiving a hefty dowry as a reward for minding them all those years, he was powerless to stop it. And she certainly cared not for the loss of her reputation, for she had never cared for it when she had it either. It was, Arthur supposed, more that she felt a sense of betrayal from both Uther and Valiant that irked her. Valiant she hated because she had trusted and grown fond of him, and could not forgive his transgression. Valiant had, with poorly-postured grace, called upon Morgana and made it clear that he would still lower himself to marry her, given that she gave over control of her lands and funds entirely, instead of her retaining some control as was stated in the initial marriage agreement. It was quite fortunate that Morgana had not only refused him, but slapped him across the face quite soundly, because Arthur had nearly done so himself, and Merlin looked as though he’d longed to turn Valiant into a rat and then drown him in the Thames.
Morgana also clearly mourned for the loss of Uther, though she claimed otherwise. Uther had been a father to her for most of her life, and their relationship had been sweet for far longer than it had been sour. As a child her vivacity and adventurousness had been praised, encouraged. Uther admired strength of character in both sexes. He believed that women far too often ill-educated and insipid, instead of bright, as Arthur's mother had once been, or full of proud conviction, as Morgana's had. During that part of her life, Morgana had adored Uther deeply, as he had her. It was not until Morgana began to become a woman that her convictions turned more often to rebellion, and the relationship between Father and ersatz daughter had begun to sour. Being disowned was the final blow in a long, bloody battle of two broken hearts, and though neither Morgana nor Uther would probably have admitted it, Arthur firmly believed that accepting the finality of never retrieving that old love must have pained both of them deeply, and rightly deserved time to bid a final farewell to.
Never one to sit idle, however, Morgana had, on the second morning at Gaius’, put on her best, most no-nonsense dress and bought the house she and Valiant had been looking to move to once they were wed - a prim, three-story gray stone building a short walk from Guinevere and Lancelot. It was far too big for one couple, let alone just Morgana, but Morgana and Valiant had once intended to fill it with children. Now, Morgana declared as she moved out on the third day, she would do the same, though not perhaps as anyone had ever intended her to.
"I am still learning magic myself," she said to Arthur as he helped her unload her trunks at her new home, "But Gaius says that I know nearly as much as he is able to teach me, and that I will now learn by studying with and teaching others. And I think I would like to teach - not the rich, of course, I'm quite done with them, but there are so very many of the lower class who have more magical power than they know how to use. And if it goes to waste or explodes with now warning or worse, gets exploited, why, that lends to crime in this city more than anything else. Oh do be careful with that lamp, Arthur, it's a gift from Guinevere and I'm rather fond of it."
"Morgana," Arthur said incredulously, setting said lamp down, "you seriously intend to take flea-infested orphans off the street and teach them magic?"
"Well, only if they already have magic," Morgana explained, as if Arthur was being insufferably slow. "What else do you expect me to do with my time, knit?"
Arthur would have much preferred that course of action, but he knew better than to tangle with Morgana, so he had dutifully set up her house and, once he was content to see that Morgana had armed herself with a Colt and promised that should any harm come to her that was not of the sort she could solve, she would call upon Lancelot, given her his blessing.
It was a bittersweet time for Arthur, recalibrating his life in ways he had never even thought to anticipate, bidding farewell to the Yuletide balls and gatherings he would normally be preparing himself for with, or the hot toddies in the club with his friends, and instead sweeping out the shop at the end of the day and balancing modest sums. To tell the truth, had it not been for Merlin, it would have been far, far more bitter than sweet.
Arthur knew, logically, that he wanted for nothing. His bed was warm, if not as plush as he was used to, his belly was full, if not with the finest food, and he had what he had never had when he was living in luxury - Merlin's open affections. It was this that kept him at Gaius' rather than boarding with Morgana in the rooms she had purchased with her inheritance and living off her charity. It was not, as Morgana had suggested, his wounded pride. Morgana may not have cared for her reputation in society, but Arthur cared for her, and he cared for Merlin. He could not, in good faith, bring Merlin to live in her house while she remained unwed (and she would remain so, for the foreseeable future) and he could no longer bear the thought of living a day apart from Merlin.
It was for Merlin he swallowed Gaius' lumpy porridges and burnt stews, for Merlin he picked the leaves off herbs that made his nose itch and his hands stink, for Merlin he gained calluses and roughened hands from the scalding hot water he rinsed pots and pans and mixing bowls under. For Merlin he choked back all of his complaints, because even now, he could feel Merlin's reserve, his doubts, his fear that Arthur would tire of this life and go running back to his father with his tail between his legs, could sense the immense power and fragility of Merlin's heart as it was slowly being bequeathed to him, inch by inch.
- - -
As a new matter of course, Merlin insisted on daily walks "for Arthur's mental well-being". Arthur, he declared after ten days, when Arthur had not left the house for a week, too afraid of running into someone he might know, was at risk of becoming a shut-in, and Merlin would not associate himself with a shut-in. Once Merlin coaxed him outside with a mixture of threats and bargains, Arthur found that his fears were, for the most part, unfounded. It rare to run into anyone he knew, and when he did, they usually went out of their way to avert their eyes, as if a fall from grace was a contagion, and this suited Arthur just fine. Besides a few of his close friends like Gawain and Leon, he'd never cared overmuch for the members of the ton he'd met, anyways.
Merlin and Arthur were taking a turn about the park, hand-in-hand, on one such walk on one of the few weakly sunny days of mid-November. Merlin had, as always, forgotten his gloves, which Arthur had begun to suspect he did rather on purpose, since he remembered them for every other outing, but he did not complain at Merlin's unsubtle request to clasp his hand. They were discussing one of the many inanities that made up their life together now - how fast the headache tonic was selling versus how fast the cough syrup, what that meant for how smelly Arthur's hands would be, how lumpy did they think the porridge would be the next morning - when a voice called out, "Well hello, cousin mine!" Arthur jerked his head up. There was only one person who called him that, and sure enough, there was Agravaine, blocking the path in front of him and Merlin with a careless smirk. He could feel Merlin stiffen beside him, but Arthur clutched Merlin's hand tighter prohibitively, so he could not escape.
"Hello, Agravaine," he said as calmly as possible. "You look well."
"I'm afraid I cannot say the same for you," Agravaine went on. "Indeed, the term 'cousin', it does not suit you and I very much anymore, now that you're a man without a family."
"I certainly have no qualms about disassociating myself from you," Arthur said coolly.
"And what's this!" Agravaine said as if he hadn't heard Arthur, widening his eyes comically. "If it isn't that same little bit of scum you were associating with earlier! Clearly you didn't do a very good job dealing with him, Arthur, as you promised you would. Why, his hand is clasped in yours most improperly!"
"I believe you are mistaken," Arthur said. "My hand is clasped in his, and I assure you it is no accident or hardship." He could tell Merlin was beaming smugly without even turning around, and he swept his thumb over the back of Merlin's hand as a private gesture of affection.
"Oh, this is too, too good!" Agravaine exclaimed with enough joy to set Arthur's teeth on edge. "The rumor is that you were disowned for defending Morgana, but that's not it at all, is it? No, your father ran you out because you fell for this pansy from a molly house! Well, quite rightly, I should say! Public sympathy will quite turn from you when they learn that this is the reason for your fall from grace, you and this invert are the very basest of sodomizers -"
Whatever else Agravaine may have been intending to say was cut off by Arthur punching him square in the face, breaking his nose with a satisfying crack. "Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed. Arthur couldn't tell if his tone was more scandalized or delighted, and he was far from caring enough to sort it out.
"You are never to call him that ever again!" Arthur bellowed, standing over Agravaine's shocked, prone form. He would have struck Agravaine again, just for daring to exist, but Merlin hauled him back.
"That's quite enough," he soothed, taking out his handkerchief and wiping the blood off Arthur’s knuckles. "My honor is quite thoroughly defended. Oh dear, these will bruise, I should think."
"He cannot say such things to you - to anyone," Arthur insisted. "I should have done that last time. No, I should have done that years ago, it’s no less than he deserves..."
"I know, darling." Merlin lifted Arthur's smarting knuckles and brushed them with his cool lips, coaxing a smile out of Arthur. "And believe me when I say you have quite redeemed yourself from last time at least ten times over. I -" He broke off when Agravaine let out an animalistic growl and rose again, tossing aside a bloody handkerchief of his own carelessly. "Don't come any closer," Merlin said, tone as icy cold as it had been warm a second before. "I don't need my fists to put you in a world of hurt."
Agravaine looked so enraged he seemed positively unhinged, hair askew, eyes popping out of his head. "You, you..." he spluttered. "I shall...I shall have you arrested for this!"
"I imagine you shall try," Merlin said. "But you see, you have no witnesses. It will come down to Arthur's word versus yours - I doubt the police care a whit if he's been disowned or not, he is still highly-born. And unlike you, Arthur has a witness in me, and I shall swear in front of any judge that it was you who attacked Arthur, and it was only due to your appalling lack of skill that Arthur managed to land a punch defending himself. In fact," Merlin turned to Arthur and gave him a victorious little smile, "I do believe that you would get a reward for that. Perhaps we should let him report us - I would not say no to the money."
Agravaine turned so red he was nearly puce, and could only splutter with rage as he turned and all but fled the scene. Arthur waited until he was quite gone before he trusted himself to look at Merlin without bursting into hysterical laughter.
"That was magnificent," he said giddily.
"It was quite satisfying," Merlin agreed, grinning back at Arthur.
"You were magnificent," Arthur insisted. He ran his hands over Merlin's face once, tenderly, marveling at his ability to do this for the world to see, and then pulled Merlin in for a kiss that Merlin returned eagerly. "I could not love you more," he whispered just loud enough for only Merlin to hear.
"Oh, I doubt that very much," Merlin murmured, wrapping his arm around Arthur’s waist so Arthur could walk with his arm around Merlin's shoulders and Merlin could rest his head on Arthur's shoulders, the two of them pressed together completely. "I hear I'm very charming."
"You are," Arthur said with a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Merlin's head. "It's a wonder I bothered resisting you at all."
"I often wonder that myself," Merlin agreed.
- - -
Arthur was unsurprised when Gawain called on him after the incident. Embarrassed, yes, and irritated, certainly, but not surprised.
"I suppose Agravaine acted as a sort of calling card? Very well - welcome to my den of iniquity," he said sardonically, bowing his cousin in. "Should I have my man draw us up a cup of tea?"
"Don't play with me, Arthur," Gawain snapped. Ah, it was to be that sort of visit. "What are you doing with yourself?"
"Chopping willow bark?" Arthur said. He felt distinctly as though he were a schoolboy who had been called in front of a headmaster, only it was worse, because it was Gawain, who was never serious.
"Arthur," Gawain sighed, removing his top hat and sitting down on one of the rickety dining room chairs. Arthur joined him awkwardly. "I'm worried about you."
"That must be a strain," Arthur attempted to joke. By Gawain's expression, he fell very short. "Agravaine called on you, did he?"
"He did," Gawain nodded. Arthur felt awkward, too restless to sit still, so he got up to put some water on to boil for tea. "Arthur, I defended you. I'm not here to berate you for your choices - you know I support you and always have. I just worry about how you're choosing to go about this whole... situation."
"How so?"
"You're refusing any help!" Gawain shouted. "I know you're proud but Arthur, this is utterly beyond the pale! Morgana has at least moved into her own place -"
"- she has funds I do not -"
"- and you seem to think you can live on love alone!" Gawain softened minutely when Arthur poured him some tea. "At least let me help you," he pled. "It's very admirable, what you're doing. You're acclimating so well, so much better than I could. But you needn't live like a pauper to prove a point."
"I can't," Arthur said shortly.
"Oh, damn your pride -"
"It isn't pride!" Arthur yelled. "It's Merlin. He..." Arthur took a bracing sip of his tea. "Merlin refused me at first not because he did not love me," he admitted. "He refused me because he believed I lived in an aristocratic fantasy. And I did. I honestly thought..." he laughed bitterly. "I thought my father would understand. He had loved my mother so, and I thought he'd see that I loved Merlin and give us his blessing. Or at least turn the other cheek."
"Because that sounds so much like your father," Gawain muttered. Arthur shot him a baleful look. "I apologize, carry on."
"Merlin fears the second my father offers me a chance to come running back to him, I'll go," Arthur went on. "And to take charity from you would be... it would be all of his very worst fears and suspicions. I cannot. I'd rather starve on love than feast without it."
Gawain was silent for a moment before he blinked and went, "Good god, you're revolting."
"Gawain!"
"Honestly, does Merlin know you're this maudlin and besotted? And he still puts up with you? I'd have kicked you out ages ago. Next you'll start reciting poetry about his eyes. I- ow!" He gingerly rubbed his shin where Arthur had kicked it. He and Arthur sat in silence, sipping their tea thoughtfully.
"How bad is the gossip?" Arthur asked finally, swirling the dregs at the bottom of his cup.
"Not too bad," Gawain shrugged. "The basics are known, of course - Morgana hasn't been discrete. All the riches of the Indies wouldn't be enough to keep her quiet. But the word on you is that you've lost favor with your father for defending her, and you're walking around London with your tail between your legs. Leon wanted the truth to be known, of course, he thinks the whole notion's romantic and would win you a great deal of sympathy and admirers, but Morgana and I managed to convince him that it would only hurt you and Merlin in the long run."
"Thank you," Arthur breathed, unaccountably relieved. If word got out so soon that Arthur had left his father's house and wealth for Merlin, there would be no end of trouble. Even more than Merlin's skill, it was his reputation that garnered him jobs. Though Arthur had wished to proclaim to the world the truth, Merlin had quite rightly talked him down, assured him that it was best to keep a low profile, to make it seem as though their romance blossomed once Arthur had fallen from grace, and was not the reason for it. If Merlin gained a reputation as a rake and seducer, even the slight trickle of income they had would dry up entirely. Between the truth of the matter and the idea of imagining Merlin as an immoral Lothario figure, Arthur found the entire situation deeply amusing. Merlin was certainly charming and perhaps a little rakish, but Arthur very much doubted anyone who had been in Merlin's presence for several moments could ever believe Merlin capable of calculated, deliberate, malicious seduction -the very idea was laughable. Even he, who had initially believed Merlin to be guilty of exactly such a crime, had quickly realized the error of his ways, and Arthur was not one to revoke judgment. Merlin's distress and inability to find the idea of such rumors humorous, however, had left Arthur bowing to Merlin's whims. As, it seemed, he always did.
"It will come out eventually," Gawain said sensibly, finishing his own tea and pouring himself another cup. "You can't lock yourself away forever."
"Yes," Arthur agreed, "but it shan't seem improper until we move in together."
"At which point I'm sure Merlin will keep you far too occupied to pay heed to rumors," Gawain teased, smirking at Arthur so very lasciviously he found himself blushing as he hadn't since he was eleven and Gawain explained what truly happened on one's marriage night. "Or perhaps you shall keep him too occupied. Unless, of course, neither of you has any honor or virtue left, in which case..."
"Gawain!" Arthur yelped, his face burning. "I! It's not! We're both very virtuous thank you. We are near brimming with virtue. We are positively infested with virtue and propriety. "
Gawain raised his brows. "You and Merlin not dabbing it up quite yet?"
"Good God!" Arthur had thought he could not possibly be more embarrassed and uncomfortable. He was so very, very wrong. "Gawain! That's not... and no, not that it's any of your business, but the idea of Gaius overhearing us, and while Merlin still has doubts, and, and no! And why am I even telling you this? My God, man, if I didn't know better I'd think you were raised in a hovel."
"Well," Gawain said sensibly, as if they were discussing the weather instead of carnal relations (or lack thereof), "I think it's best we got you and Merlin your own rooms as soon as possible, then, don't you?"
Arthur was too flustered to respond immediately and instead poured himself yet another cup of tea, wishing he'd fortified it with something a little stronger. "I... yes." He said finally after he had taken enough calming sips to feel less like he wanted to run into the back room and lock the door. "I've invested my funds from my mother and we were hoping to... yes."
"Please," Gawain snorted. "You and I both know that your mother's wealth was invested almost entirely in Tintagel, which you have no share of until your father dies, if you have any share at all, I might add. If you're waiting until you get solid returns on that little bit of pocket change before you and Merlin consummate your relationship, all the necessary parts will have grown mold in the meantime."
"If this has a point, you need to get to it now, before I kick you out."
"You need money," Gawain said frankly. "And for that, you need employment."
"I've been helping Gaius," Arthur pointed out, gesturing to the willow bark that was neatly bundled together. "I'm earning my keep."
"Gainful employment," Gawain said. "Leon and I put our heads together, and we've managed to use our contacts to get you a well-paying job with the East India Company." He waited meaningfully, as if he expected Arthur to fall to his knees in gratitude.
"A job?" Arthur asked, horrified. "Gawain, I'm aristocracy, fallen or not. I can hardly be seen working."
"You can if you ever expect to provide Merlin with any sort of life of comfort."
Arthur was brought up short by Gawain's bald statement. "I have my pride," he said softly. "I may love Merlin, but I have my pride."
"You cannot live on pride," Gawain said simply. "Think about it, Arthur."
"Very well," Arthur sighed, and showed his cousin out before sitting heavily down at the scrubbed wooden table and burying his head in his hands.
- - -
Part Seven