Cups and Saucerers - Chapter 18 of ?
Previous Chapter
Chapter Summary:Leon rescues Morgan from a garden party. But it seems that her brother is the one who really needs rescuing. With Merrill suffering some sort of breakdown, who can prevent Arthur from self-destruction?
~#~
“My name is Merlin,” he said, his eyes whirling blue-and-gold, voice deep and trembling, laden with despair. “I have magic. I am a warlock and a dragonlord. Arthur has returned. It is my duty to protect him, and I have failed yet again.”
Three weeks later
Magdalene College Lawns, Cambridge. May 31st 2004, 3.23pm.
When Leon got the text from Gwen he was mid-way through an interminable “Pretty in Pink”-themed ADC garden party. Despite the picturesque setting on the banks of the Cam, and the copious quantities of free post-exam booze, he was feeling glum. He’d come along as Morgan’s “plus one”; as such, he knew that his job was to pick up the pieces. He sat on Morgan’s battered, pink, paisley picnic blanket, a cold bottle of Beck’s in his hand, his face slowly changing colour in the sun to match the party theme. A distant rumble of thunder hinted that a change in the weather was imminent. He loosened his pink tie and sighed.
The first-year Nat. Sci.’s had just finished their Part I exams, and Moore had, until recently, been celebrating under a nearby oak tree with Kara. They had glued their faces together and explored the possibilities offered by a short skirt in a public place. Tongues had been seen. Morgan had taken one look at this un-erotic public display of affection and climbed metaphorically and with great determination into about a gallon of Pimm’s.
The snogathon had ended, thankfully, and the pair had departed, ages ago. Kara was apparently in training for a triathlon and needed to get up early the next day for a run. But the Pimms hadn't worked its way through Morgan's system yet. Nor would it if she didn't stop topping it up, soon.
“Thought 'e loved me,” Morgan said now, with a forlorn sniff. “Lef' a note on m’ door, ‘n everythin’.” She took a slug of Pimms, and sucked the strawberry out of the bottom of the cup with a vulgar slurping noise. She looked utterly wrecked. Her lips were pink with strawberry juice and smudged lipstick. She started to slump a bit.
Leon thought she looked adorable. He pressed a kiss to her mussed-up hair and put his arm round her to hold her up.“That was me, you idiot,” he said quietly. He let out a self-deprecating laugh.
Her head swivelled up, lips in a surprised “o” shape. “You?” she said, her voice a half-whisper. “Lovely Leon? You left that note?”
“Yeah,” he said. He kissed her hair again.
“Lovely Leon loves me. Lalalala. That’s lalliteration, Leon.” Her eyes drooped. “M’ sleepy.” She yawned and promptly fell asleep on his shoulder.
“That went well,” he thought, a tender smile creeping onto his face. She felt warm and her hair smelt sweet. Although she drooled a bit.
Her head was heavy, so when his phone beeped, a part of him was grateful for the interruption. Holding Morgan’s lolling head up with one hand, he fished in his pocket with the other.
Arthur has had a meltdown and upset everyone, pls help. We R in C & S.
Leon frowned. Gwen and Arthur had broken up a couple of months ago, and Gwen was dating some long-haired, astonishingly good-looking, French graduate student, but Gwen had remained one of Arthur’s friends. He wondered what might be the matter. He texted her back.
Wassup? Wanna meet up? CU @ C & S in 10 mins? Morgan needs 2 sober up anyway.
C & S was text short hand for the tea shop they’d all grown to love. He felt that a restorative pot of Assam might be just the thing for Morgan-if he could wake her up, that is. He tightened the protective arm he’d wound round her waist.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he said. She snored on. Overcome with fondness and Becks, he buried his face in her hair for a moment, sighing, and then shook her awake. “Come on,” he said. “Arthur’s been an idiot. Let’s go and drink some tea and bully him until he sorts himself out.”
When they got to the tea shop, however, Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Gwen sat in a corner, dabbing her eyes and nose with a hanky. Lance of the unfeasible good looks had an arm around one shoulder. Merrill sat on the other side of her, an uncharacteristic frown between his eyes.
Leon plonked Morgan down into a chair and asked Merrill if he could get some Assam and a plate of biscuits. The waiter didn’t say anything; he just stood up and gave Leon a tense nod.
“What’s up?” he whispered when Merrill had left the table. “What’s the boy wonder done this time? Why does Merrill look like someone just killed his puppy?”
Gwen sighed. “You know Arthur's exams finished yesterday?” she said in a shaky voice, looking round to check that Merrill couldn’t hear. “Well, he’s been celebrating in the usual way, which is fine, and I think he’d been working up his courage to ask Merrill out, and he’d had rather a lot to drink, and, well, I think he went about it in a rather unfortunate way, because when we came in here about half an hour ago, the two of them were shouting at each other. Arthur stormed out, threatening to go for a drive,” her breath hitched and her eyes filled with tears. “He threatened Lance,” she added, her lip wobbling and her voice squeaky, “he said unspeakable things about me.” She blew her nose loudly.
“M’ brother’s an arse,” slurred Morgan, giving Gwen’s hand a clumsy pat. “Y’ bettroff withoutim,” she added, eyes crossing as she evidently tried to focus. Merrill chose that moment to return with the tea and cookies. He set them out in silence.
Leon sighed and stood up. “You all right, mate?” he said softly to Merrill, putting a hand on his shoulder, leading him away from the others. “You seem a little… stressed?”
The sky outside suddenly went terribly dark, the bright sun blotted out by a monstrous thundercloud. Merrill’s lips were pressed together as if he was trying not to speak. He shook his head and his eyes started to fill. Leon could feel him trembling through his thin shirt. “Talk to me, mate,” said Leon. “What’s going on?”
Merrill shook his head. “Can’t,” he rasped. “Hurts.” He gulped a few times and looked away.
At that moment the door burst open. The bell let out a forlorn tinkle as Gavin strode in. Lance looked up, a hopeful expression in his eyes, but Gavin shook his head. “Can’t find him anywhere,” he said. “The stupid sod has gone for a drive.”
“How much has he had to drink, exactly?” Leon asked.
Gavin’s expression was grave. “Put it this way,” he said, “he’d make Morgan here look like she’d taken a vow of abstinence.”
“Oi!” Morgan protested. “M’ perfickly shober!”
Merrill buried his hands in his hair. “It’s all my fault,” he whispered, distraught. “This was exactly what I had to prevent happening, I got so close, and now I’ve screwed it up. Shit, shit, shit. Everything’s gone to shit.” His breath hitched.
Leon wondered what he meant. “What’s your fault?” he said. “You can’t blame yourself for Pentagon getting himself wankered and making a pass at you. Nor for him walking out in a strop. He’s perfectly capable of screwing things up all by himself.”
Merrill shook his head. “You don’t understand!” he said, fixing Leon in an intense gaze. “I didn’t turn him down. I said yes. And then I told him the truth about me, about who I am, about what I feel,” he was shouting now, “I told him the truth about it all, and he remembered, all about me, and about Guinevere and Lancelot, and Morgana, and Mordred… and he couldn’t handle it, it was too fast. It’s my fault!”
His voice shook and his eyes seemed as if they were taking on a peculiar shade of gold - surely some trick of the light diffracted through his tears? And it all started to feel terribly familiar, somehow: Merrill’s concern for Arthur, the pinched, pale faces around him, Gwen’s tears, Morgan’s wild appearance.
Merrill was still talking. “Don’t you see? I thought I could stop him by explaining, but it was all too much, and now he’s going to have the accident, Kara will be killed, Moore will kill him when he finds out! I can’t reach him with my magic, he’s hidden to me. And I’ll lose him again!” Merrill swayed. “He’s a colossal prat, but he’s kind, and sort of noble, and he’s mine! I can’t lose him again, I just can’t…”
“Sit down, Merrill,” said Leon, taking charge.
Merrill sat down, leaning forward, head bowed, elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking. Leon didn’t really understand exactly what was going on, but he felt that there was something, buried deep in his memory. He was on the edge of seeing it but couldn’t, quite.
“It’s all true, you see,” Merrill carried on, looking up, his hair poking out in spikes where he’d threaded his hands through it, “I really am a time-traveller, and a warlock.” Lightning flashed outside. A sudden hissing sound heralded the arrival of a hailstorm.
“My name is Merlin,” he said, his eyes whirling blue-and-gold, voice deep and trembling, laden with despair. “I have magic. I am a warlock and a dragonlord. Arthur has returned. It is my duty to protect him, and I have failed yet again.”
Just then a flash of lightning lit up the room, and a crash of thunder came hard on its tail, making Leon jump. He blinked. He could have sworn that the silhouette of a dragon shadowed the window, starkly lit by the white-blue flash, but he rubbed his eyes and it was gone. He must have been imagining things. Or maybe Merrill was a hypnotist, and had conjured up the vision using suggestion.
As another peal of thunder rent the air, the door opened and a pale-skinned, white-haired girl dressed in white leather stepped into the tea shop, rain dripping from her saturated hair and clothes. Merrill rose to his feet, looking stunned. Leon's heart thundered in his chest, he couldn't say why, but she appeared almost unreal, so pale was she highlighted against the darkened street. Steam rose from her clothes, filling the room with vapours and condensing on the window pane.
“Linda,” Merlin said, sounding shocked. “But how did you… and you haven’t even… when did you…?”
The girl’s lips curved up. “2014,” she said. “I have watched you and learned. I am Aethlinda now. I am fledged. I see many futures. and I have come to help.” She held out a hand. “Come, my master. Let us find your lost king and stop him before it is too late.”
She turned the gaze from her pale eyes upon every member of the group in turn. It lingered on Morgan like a caress, and her tongue briefly flicked out. “Mistress,” she whispered, with a sad smile. “I do this for you as much as for my master.” She stepped over to Morgan and knelt before her, nuzzling Morgan’s knee with her head, like a cat. Leon could feel heat radiating from Linda as if she was a furnace.
Morgan gently caressed her steaming head, looking stunned. “Aithusa?” she whispered, eyes round. And where had Leon heard that name before?
“Aethlinda now!” the girl replied. She stood, and stepped away from Morgan. “You will find me one day,” she said, “but first we must rescue your brother.” She strode out of the tea shop, grabbing Merrill’s hand, and banging the door shut. When the bell stopped jangling the shop suddenly felt very empty and quiet.
Leon, realising his mouth was wide open, snapped it shut.
Gavin cleared his throat. “Well,” he said with a cheeky smile, striding over to the cake counter. He carved himself a large slice of Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, and slathered it liberally with cream. “Don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving!” He fished into the cake and shovelled in a large mouthful, groaning theatrically. "Bloody hell," he said, voice muffled by moist dark cherry, "I don't know about the rest of it, but Merrill's a bloody magician when it comes to cakes."
“I hope you’re going to pay for that,” said Leon.
“Don’t worry,” said Gavin. He smirked. “Arthur’ll pay.”
Next Chapter
Chapter Summary:Leon rescues Morgan from a garden party. But it seems that her brother is the one who really needs rescuing. With Merrill suffering some sort of breakdown, who can prevent Arthur from self-destruction?
~#~
“My name is Merlin,” he said, his eyes whirling blue-and-gold, voice deep and trembling, laden with despair. “I have magic. I am a warlock and a dragonlord. Arthur has returned. It is my duty to protect him, and I have failed yet again.”
Three weeks later
Magdalene College Lawns, Cambridge. May 31st 2004, 3.23pm.
When Leon got the text from Gwen he was mid-way through an interminable “Pretty in Pink”-themed ADC garden party. Despite the picturesque setting on the banks of the Cam, and the copious quantities of free post-exam booze, he was feeling glum. He’d come along as Morgan’s “plus one”; as such, he knew that his job was to pick up the pieces. He sat on Morgan’s battered, pink, paisley picnic blanket, a cold bottle of Beck’s in his hand, his face slowly changing colour in the sun to match the party theme. A distant rumble of thunder hinted that a change in the weather was imminent. He loosened his pink tie and sighed.
The first-year Nat. Sci.’s had just finished their Part I exams, and Moore had, until recently, been celebrating under a nearby oak tree with Kara. They had glued their faces together and explored the possibilities offered by a short skirt in a public place. Tongues had been seen. Morgan had taken one look at this un-erotic public display of affection and climbed metaphorically and with great determination into about a gallon of Pimm’s.
The snogathon had ended, thankfully, and the pair had departed, ages ago. Kara was apparently in training for a triathlon and needed to get up early the next day for a run. But the Pimms hadn't worked its way through Morgan's system yet. Nor would it if she didn't stop topping it up, soon.
“Thought 'e loved me,” Morgan said now, with a forlorn sniff. “Lef' a note on m’ door, ‘n everythin’.” She took a slug of Pimms, and sucked the strawberry out of the bottom of the cup with a vulgar slurping noise. She looked utterly wrecked. Her lips were pink with strawberry juice and smudged lipstick. She started to slump a bit.
Leon thought she looked adorable. He pressed a kiss to her mussed-up hair and put his arm round her to hold her up.“That was me, you idiot,” he said quietly. He let out a self-deprecating laugh.
Her head swivelled up, lips in a surprised “o” shape. “You?” she said, her voice a half-whisper. “Lovely Leon? You left that note?”
“Yeah,” he said. He kissed her hair again.
“Lovely Leon loves me. Lalalala. That’s lalliteration, Leon.” Her eyes drooped. “M’ sleepy.” She yawned and promptly fell asleep on his shoulder.
“That went well,” he thought, a tender smile creeping onto his face. She felt warm and her hair smelt sweet. Although she drooled a bit.
Her head was heavy, so when his phone beeped, a part of him was grateful for the interruption. Holding Morgan’s lolling head up with one hand, he fished in his pocket with the other.
Arthur has had a meltdown and upset everyone, pls help. We R in C & S.
Leon frowned. Gwen and Arthur had broken up a couple of months ago, and Gwen was dating some long-haired, astonishingly good-looking, French graduate student, but Gwen had remained one of Arthur’s friends. He wondered what might be the matter. He texted her back.
Wassup? Wanna meet up? CU @ C & S in 10 mins? Morgan needs 2 sober up anyway.
C & S was text short hand for the tea shop they’d all grown to love. He felt that a restorative pot of Assam might be just the thing for Morgan-if he could wake her up, that is. He tightened the protective arm he’d wound round her waist.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he said. She snored on. Overcome with fondness and Becks, he buried his face in her hair for a moment, sighing, and then shook her awake. “Come on,” he said. “Arthur’s been an idiot. Let’s go and drink some tea and bully him until he sorts himself out.”
When they got to the tea shop, however, Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Gwen sat in a corner, dabbing her eyes and nose with a hanky. Lance of the unfeasible good looks had an arm around one shoulder. Merrill sat on the other side of her, an uncharacteristic frown between his eyes.
Leon plonked Morgan down into a chair and asked Merrill if he could get some Assam and a plate of biscuits. The waiter didn’t say anything; he just stood up and gave Leon a tense nod.
“What’s up?” he whispered when Merrill had left the table. “What’s the boy wonder done this time? Why does Merrill look like someone just killed his puppy?”
Gwen sighed. “You know Arthur's exams finished yesterday?” she said in a shaky voice, looking round to check that Merrill couldn’t hear. “Well, he’s been celebrating in the usual way, which is fine, and I think he’d been working up his courage to ask Merrill out, and he’d had rather a lot to drink, and, well, I think he went about it in a rather unfortunate way, because when we came in here about half an hour ago, the two of them were shouting at each other. Arthur stormed out, threatening to go for a drive,” her breath hitched and her eyes filled with tears. “He threatened Lance,” she added, her lip wobbling and her voice squeaky, “he said unspeakable things about me.” She blew her nose loudly.
“M’ brother’s an arse,” slurred Morgan, giving Gwen’s hand a clumsy pat. “Y’ bettroff withoutim,” she added, eyes crossing as she evidently tried to focus. Merrill chose that moment to return with the tea and cookies. He set them out in silence.
Leon sighed and stood up. “You all right, mate?” he said softly to Merrill, putting a hand on his shoulder, leading him away from the others. “You seem a little… stressed?”
The sky outside suddenly went terribly dark, the bright sun blotted out by a monstrous thundercloud. Merrill’s lips were pressed together as if he was trying not to speak. He shook his head and his eyes started to fill. Leon could feel him trembling through his thin shirt. “Talk to me, mate,” said Leon. “What’s going on?”
Merrill shook his head. “Can’t,” he rasped. “Hurts.” He gulped a few times and looked away.
At that moment the door burst open. The bell let out a forlorn tinkle as Gavin strode in. Lance looked up, a hopeful expression in his eyes, but Gavin shook his head. “Can’t find him anywhere,” he said. “The stupid sod has gone for a drive.”
“How much has he had to drink, exactly?” Leon asked.
Gavin’s expression was grave. “Put it this way,” he said, “he’d make Morgan here look like she’d taken a vow of abstinence.”
“Oi!” Morgan protested. “M’ perfickly shober!”
Merrill buried his hands in his hair. “It’s all my fault,” he whispered, distraught. “This was exactly what I had to prevent happening, I got so close, and now I’ve screwed it up. Shit, shit, shit. Everything’s gone to shit.” His breath hitched.
Leon wondered what he meant. “What’s your fault?” he said. “You can’t blame yourself for Pentagon getting himself wankered and making a pass at you. Nor for him walking out in a strop. He’s perfectly capable of screwing things up all by himself.”
Merrill shook his head. “You don’t understand!” he said, fixing Leon in an intense gaze. “I didn’t turn him down. I said yes. And then I told him the truth about me, about who I am, about what I feel,” he was shouting now, “I told him the truth about it all, and he remembered, all about me, and about Guinevere and Lancelot, and Morgana, and Mordred… and he couldn’t handle it, it was too fast. It’s my fault!”
His voice shook and his eyes seemed as if they were taking on a peculiar shade of gold - surely some trick of the light diffracted through his tears? And it all started to feel terribly familiar, somehow: Merrill’s concern for Arthur, the pinched, pale faces around him, Gwen’s tears, Morgan’s wild appearance.
Merrill was still talking. “Don’t you see? I thought I could stop him by explaining, but it was all too much, and now he’s going to have the accident, Kara will be killed, Moore will kill him when he finds out! I can’t reach him with my magic, he’s hidden to me. And I’ll lose him again!” Merrill swayed. “He’s a colossal prat, but he’s kind, and sort of noble, and he’s mine! I can’t lose him again, I just can’t…”
“Sit down, Merrill,” said Leon, taking charge.
Merrill sat down, leaning forward, head bowed, elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking. Leon didn’t really understand exactly what was going on, but he felt that there was something, buried deep in his memory. He was on the edge of seeing it but couldn’t, quite.
“It’s all true, you see,” Merrill carried on, looking up, his hair poking out in spikes where he’d threaded his hands through it, “I really am a time-traveller, and a warlock.” Lightning flashed outside. A sudden hissing sound heralded the arrival of a hailstorm.
“My name is Merlin,” he said, his eyes whirling blue-and-gold, voice deep and trembling, laden with despair. “I have magic. I am a warlock and a dragonlord. Arthur has returned. It is my duty to protect him, and I have failed yet again.”
Just then a flash of lightning lit up the room, and a crash of thunder came hard on its tail, making Leon jump. He blinked. He could have sworn that the silhouette of a dragon shadowed the window, starkly lit by the white-blue flash, but he rubbed his eyes and it was gone. He must have been imagining things. Or maybe Merrill was a hypnotist, and had conjured up the vision using suggestion.
As another peal of thunder rent the air, the door opened and a pale-skinned, white-haired girl dressed in white leather stepped into the tea shop, rain dripping from her saturated hair and clothes. Merrill rose to his feet, looking stunned. Leon's heart thundered in his chest, he couldn't say why, but she appeared almost unreal, so pale was she highlighted against the darkened street. Steam rose from her clothes, filling the room with vapours and condensing on the window pane.
“Linda,” Merlin said, sounding shocked. “But how did you… and you haven’t even… when did you…?”
The girl’s lips curved up. “2014,” she said. “I have watched you and learned. I am Aethlinda now. I am fledged. I see many futures. and I have come to help.” She held out a hand. “Come, my master. Let us find your lost king and stop him before it is too late.”
She turned the gaze from her pale eyes upon every member of the group in turn. It lingered on Morgan like a caress, and her tongue briefly flicked out. “Mistress,” she whispered, with a sad smile. “I do this for you as much as for my master.” She stepped over to Morgan and knelt before her, nuzzling Morgan’s knee with her head, like a cat. Leon could feel heat radiating from Linda as if she was a furnace.
Morgan gently caressed her steaming head, looking stunned. “Aithusa?” she whispered, eyes round. And where had Leon heard that name before?
“Aethlinda now!” the girl replied. She stood, and stepped away from Morgan. “You will find me one day,” she said, “but first we must rescue your brother.” She strode out of the tea shop, grabbing Merrill’s hand, and banging the door shut. When the bell stopped jangling the shop suddenly felt very empty and quiet.
Leon, realising his mouth was wide open, snapped it shut.
Gavin cleared his throat. “Well,” he said with a cheeky smile, striding over to the cake counter. He carved himself a large slice of Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, and slathered it liberally with cream. “Don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving!” He fished into the cake and shovelled in a large mouthful, groaning theatrically. "Bloody hell," he said, voice muffled by moist dark cherry, "I don't know about the rest of it, but Merrill's a bloody magician when it comes to cakes."
“I hope you’re going to pay for that,” said Leon.
“Don’t worry,” said Gavin. He smirked. “Arthur’ll pay.”
Next Chapter