Merlin - But Only Say the Word and I Shall [Part 1]
Title: But Only Say the Word and I Shall
Genre: AU, Slash and Pre-Slash
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin (pre-slash), Lance/Will, slight Arthur/Gwen
Length: ~22,000 words
Rating: R
Warnings: Depictions of homophobia and the aftermath of violence. The rating is due to this more than any sexual overtones.
Synopsis: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13
Prompt: 2121. Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, AU: Uther Pendragon is the head preacher at Camelot Ministries -- the American-style anti-LGBT mega-church that has become popular in Britain. Arthur knows that he's expected to marry Gwen and take over from his father one day -- but when Merlin Emrys is assigned to work as his clerical assistant, Arthur is forced to confront the fact that he is gay.
Author’s Notes: Written for lgbtfest. I hope I did the subject matter justice.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Live Journal:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Dreamwidth:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur sighed as he leaned back in his chair and resisted the urge to rub his forehead. He could feel just the beginning twinges of a headache coming on and it was barely half past eight in the morning. True, it was a perfectly dreary morning, with rain sleeting down outside and promises of more to come, but if this is how he was to begin his week, he could barely think of how it would end. So he pushed away the headache, hoping that it would go away if he paid it no heed, and tried to focus on the task at hand.
Of course, the task at hand would be easier to focus on had he had one before him.
It was a Monday morning after his father had given his standard Sunday sermon for Camelot Ministries. In the past, this would mean trawling through stacks of papers to see the public reaction while fielding phone calls of the same. His morning, and frankly most of the day, would be spent reading vitriol and rage and giving the appropriate responses either by letter or spoken word until he questioned why humanity focused on these things when there were so much more important things in life. The hate distracted from the love which distracted from the message which distracted from God. So instead of spending his time reading old texts and translations and trying to better understand the history of the Word, he was forced to deal with the pettiness and bickering of people who did not like his father’s interpretation of that Word.
To be fair, his father did not make appreciation an easy task at times. His views were vocal and could be extreme, but he spoke from the love within his heart and Arthur had to remember that, remember his father believed in every word he uttered, remember his reasoning and rational came from a higher power else he would not be in his current position as both speaker and head of the church.
His thoughts were wandering and so he tried to focus once more and once more lamented there was nothing to focus on. Three months ago, his father had hired him an assistant. He cited Arthur’s exhaustion and the massive growth of the church. He cited that the task had, perhaps, grown too large for a single man to handle and that he himself had a personal aide. As Arthur was to one day take over for his father, it was important he learned to delegate tasks now, else he be overwhelmed in the future.
Which is how Merlin entered his life. Mister Merlin Emrys, a man about his own age but with a freedom about him Arthur could almost envy, if it did not tend to come with the appearance of ineptitude. Merlin had a way of doing things and he had a way of making you let him do things his way while you sat back and waited for disaster, but were actually presented with something coherent and whole.
Merlin had taken one look at the stack of papers on his first Monday and shook his head with a muttered, “Oh, this will not do at all.” Next thing Arthur knew, he had cancelled several subscriptions, talked his way into a better computer with better internet access, subscribed instead to something he called “feeds” and pretty much organized Arthur’s life to his suiting.
Now, instead of thin newsprint curling and smearing beneath his fingers, Arthur had crisp printouts that were organized into some elaborate filing system after he finished reading them. Articles of interest were emailed to him with the appropriate response addresses included, his schedule digitalized to both his laptop and phone, and only the few papers that were yet to provide what Merlin deemed satisfactory online content were given to him to peruse. It made the job surprisingly easier, even if Arthur was both reluctant to admit it and reluctant to change to the new ways.
Merlin himself was rarely seen without his own phone. Some elaborate thing that seemed to have even more features that Arthur’s that he may have perhaps debated getting a version of for himself not out of jealousy or anything so petty, but to ease the communication barriers that sometimes arose, that was all. The man swore his life was in that thing, with his schedules and calendars and news feeds and music if the headphones were anything to go by. Arthur rarely saw him without it, even as he sat at his desk and perused file after file on a larger lit screen, eyes sometimes lighting in interest before jotting something down and moving on.
Arthur’s mind was drifting, again. He found it often did when it came to his new assistant. He was not sure if it was just the vastly different ways of thinking about things, the man’s infectious attitude and near constant grin, or something more. What he did know was that it was not productive to dwell on such things, so he shook himself out of his reverie and turned to his own computer screen, the familiar Camelot logo of cross and shield now floating before him as he had daydreamed for so long.
He moved the mouse and watched as the screen filled with his email instead, hearing Merlin’s tsking voice in his head that they really needed to lock their computers as it made access to possibly confidential information far too easy. Arthur had tried, but found, like his father, the constant passwords were quite tedious when you were not used to them, and turned the option off, preferring to lock the office door instead.
He had just moved on to his third email, this one actually congratulatory instead of spiteful, when there was a knock on that very door. He looked up to see dear Gwen, punctual as always, a large mug of tea in her hands, steam wafting up and about her. Her hair was pulled back into its usual simple bun, a few errant curls escaping to frame her smiling face. She was beautiful as always, even in her simple button down shirt and skirt, never anything flashy or fancy or distracting, just practical, much like she was herself. She always brought a smile to his face, even on the dreariest of mornings, just by her nature alone.
He could see his father’s approving nod behind her as he walked by, a less than subtle reminder that he thought Gwen the perfect woman for him, the perfect woman to have at his side the day he took over the Ministry.
Gwen had seen it too and rolled her eyes as she hustled into Arthur’s office and placed the mug on a little coaster she had left there for that very purpose longer ago than he remembered now. “But no pressure, right?” she said with her eyes gleaming in amusement.
“None at all,” he agreed with equal solemnity. He picked up the mug and cradled it in his hands, let the warmth of the tea seep into his bones and chase off the last of the chills of the morning. He took a deep, fortifying draught despite the heat, and let it warm his body from within as well as without. “Thank you,” he said, heartfelt. It was amazing how a simple cup of tea could change your day, especially when paired with a friend.
“Anytime,” she brushed it off. She leaned against his desk and took in the distinct lack of printouts and other debris. “Is Merlin out?” she asked with concern.
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but found it entirely unnecessary as his wayward assistant chose that moment to burst in the door, hair plastered to his forehead and thin coat plastered to his shivering body. “Sorry I’m late!” he gasped. Water dripped from his fringe to his eyes, and he blinked it away only for it to roll down his face instead.
Arthur contemplated his tea, and then his soaked assistant. “You will have quite the tale to tell, of that I am certain,” he mused. “But perhaps you should wait until you dry off a bit?”
“Car broke down, there was no bus or taxi in sight, and Lance took nearly a half hour to find me,” Merlin replied as he shook the worst of it out of his hair, drops spattering about the office. Lance was his roommate. Arthur was not certain what he did for a living, but he seemed a decent enough fellow if the sheer number of calls and lunches per week were anything to go by. He always had the same constrained politeness about him that Merlin himself seemed to have, but Arthur could find no fault in the man and would have found a way to offer him a job if needed.
“And you didn’t think to call one of us?” Arthur asked with an arched eyebrow.
Merlin spluttered, paused, and cocked his head to the side before he answered, “Honestly, no.”
“Any one of us would have been happy to give you a ride,” Gwen told him with a pat to his back. She shook the wetness off of her hand and offered, “Why don’t I see if I can find you a towel?”
Merlin watched her leave with that same confused look on his face, which made Arthur roll his eyes. “You do remember that you work for an outreach ministry that believes in helping others, right?”
Merlin looked back to him, sheepish, as he shrugged, “But you are always so busy, or at least seem to be. To interrupt for a ride when you usually have more important things to do...”
“Would have been more than welcome,” Arthur assured him. He looked longingly at his tea, not wanting to indulge even though the simple sight of his assistant was enough to make him shiver when he knew said assistant could probably use it more than he could himself. If he didn’t know Gwen well enough to know she would probably return with a mug as well as the towel, he would have offered him some. Instead, he simply said, “I know the Ministry tends to be known more for the protests and more extremist views but, after working here for three months, surely you’ve noticed there’s more to us than that?”
Merlin looked suitably chided at that. “Yes, I should know,” he admitted. “It just honestly did not cross my mind.”
Arthur smiled at the honesty. “Well, see that it does next time,” he said with false primness, which earned him a quick grin.
Merlin’s no doubt entertaining response was interrupted when Gwen returned with both the promised towel, one usually used to dry the dishes in the kitchenette, and another mug of tea. She handed Merlin the tea and reached up to towel dry his hair herself, mussing it more than anything, the smile on her face letting them both know she knew full well what she was doing. “There, so much better,” she said, setting the towel about Merlin’s shoulders.
“I’m sure,” Merlin laughed, running his fingers through the worst of it and using the edge of the towel to dry his face. “Thank you,” he told her, the appreciation evident in his tone as much as the words.
“Any time,” she smiled. “You might want to put your shoes near the vent to dry a bit; I’m sure no one will begrudge you if you go about in stocking feet for a while,” she pointed out.
“An excellent suggestion,” he replied. He turned to Arthur and said, “And now, if you give me a moment, I can get you those print outs and actually get started for the day.”
Arthur nodded and said the appropriate pleasantries and let everyone go about their day. If he happened to dig up a jumper with the Ministry’s logo left over from a charity sale from the back closet and deposit it in the lap of his still shivering assistant an hour or two later, so be it.
The day went about as normal after that. Hate mail received, donations counted, and phone calls replied to in a timely fashion. Arthur himself explained to his father, the good reverend Uther Pendragon, why Merlin was a bit more bedraggled than usual, and dutifully gave Merlin the brolly that was Uther’s entire reply to the situation. It was not until it was nearing time to leave for the evening that he thought to ask, “Do you have a means home tonight?”
Merlin paused as he signed out of his computer and shut it down for the evening, a startled look about his face. “Um, I forgot to call Lance with the time. Is it okay if I stay late to wait for him? It shouldn’t be more than a half hour at most.”
Arthur shook his head, having none of that. “I’ll give you a ride myself,” he insisted. Merlin looked as if he was to protest, so he gave him a look that he learned usually got him his way, and received a reluctant nod in return.
Merlin grabbed his phone from his desk drawer before locking it, which was the first time Arthur noticed it had not been in his hand constantly all day and made him wonder if it was possible to waterlog such a device, and said, “Let me just go fetch my shoes then.”
Arthur waited, not at all surprised when the leather still squelched and creaked when Merlin returned. Coat on and brolly in hand and Merlin gestured towards the door for Arthur to lead the way. It was not until the two men reached Arthur’s sensible sedan that he thought to ask, “Where do you live, anyway?”
It might have been Arthur’s imagination, but he swore Merlin paled for a moment. He realized that, under other circumstances, it would be rude to ask so directly, but considering he was about to drive them both there, the question seemed warranted. Merlin swallowed heavily before he admitted, “It’s, uh, not the best part of town.”
Arthur should have expected that, in retrospect. Merlin did not come from a wealthy family such as his own, and working for the Ministry might pay the bills, but it was likely not to do much more than that. He also had a vague memory of something about Merlin previously living with those who he served via charity work in the dossier given to him upon Merlin’s hiring as his assistant. If you did not make much, and were used to living in less than ideal conditions, it made sense that you did not waste the little money you had on unnecessary embellishments.
“It’s not a contest or a fashion show, Merlin,” he reminded him. He buckled himself in and started the engine. “Just give me directions and we’ll see you home.”
Merlin, for once, did as he was told. He was not lying that his neighbourhood was less than swank, but it did not seem quite that bad. Arthur recognized the beat up old Volkswagen that usually graced the ministry’s lot less than a mile away from their final destination. He was not certain how secure it was, but he was certain there would be no fixing it in time for work again in the morning.
As Merlin got out in front of a simple brownstone building and thanked him for the ride, Arthur made him promise to give him a call in the morning. “You already have my number and now I know where you live. It’s a simple matter of picking you up,” he reasoned against the protests.
Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after a cheeky, “Aren’t I supposed to be your assistant?”
“You can’t assist if you aren’t there,” Arthur retorted and let him shut the door. As Arthur pulled away, he spared one last glance towards the building, just to make certain that Merlin could get in to his flat. The door was already closing though, leaving him only with the view of several rows of windows, each colourfully, if a bit garishly, decorated with curtains and plants and the odd collection of banners.
The area itself seemed nice enough, if simple. There was a park, pretty empty from the lasting drizzle, and both a coffee house and tea shop only a block down. The sex shop with the giant cartoon condom on the front glass made him blush, but he reminded himself it was to be expected for the area.
It must have been a community thing, or perhaps just a theme, as everything was such a wide range of hues that never seemed to contrast, at least not in the little light of the evening, but was quite the interesting mixture nonetheless. When he stopped at a light, he saw two mates laughing as they darted across the street, grabbing and pulling at each other as they tried to hurry out of the rain, wide smiles on their faces despite the dreariness of the day. All in all, thought Arthur, not a bad place to live.
Arthur awoke a half hour early the next day to make the trip over to Merlin’s flat and drive him in. There was no sign of his assistant at the door, so he got out of his car and walked to the buzzer, thankful the rain decided to hold off, for now. He rang the code and either the system was old enough to muffle voices in a new and interesting way, or someone other than Lance or Merlin answered. “He’ll be right down,” the voice answered rather gruffly, and then line went dead.
Figuring whoever answered was not a morning person, Arthur prepared to wait. Merlin took only a few minutes to appear, still straightening his tie as he descended the steps to the door. “Sorry about that,” he said as he swung it open. “Will’s right cross first thing in the morning.”
That answered one question, but left another. “And Will is?” Arthur prompted.
Merlin blinked, enough that a lesser man would have been suspicious. “Oh, uh, he’s Lance’s friend. He spent the night,” Merlin answered as he led the way to Arthur’s car.
And that answered another question as far as Arthur was concerned. Will was likely a bit hung over, having crashed at a friend’s instead of making it back to his own place. “Ah,” Arthur said in understanding and opened the door.
They chatted idly about random things on the way in and Arthur had to admit he enjoyed the commute far more than he had in recent memory. Talking and teasing with Merlin made for a far better way to start the day than listening to talk radio about all the dire things going on in the world and how Camelot Ministries was either to blame or going to save everyone from it all depending on the position taken that day.
It was to be several days before Merlin’s vehicle was out of the shop, so Arthur began a routine of picking up his assistant and even made the trip to his favourite coffee shop more than once. They worked as they always would, and the commute home was met with more chatter and more laughter.
Arthur did not ask about some of the things he saw along the way, and Merlin seemed more than happy to ignore them as well. The two blokes kissing on a park bench next to the light was hard to ignore, however, and Arthur forced himself to look away, in time to see the blush that rose across Merlin’s cheeks as he too took in the view. It was to be expected as such things were rare and unnatural, or so the voice of his father currently ringing in his head told him. But to look at the joy on their faces as they pulled apart, Arthur was forced to ask how evil could appear so similar to peace.
It all came to a head on Friday night on the way to drop Merlin off at his flat. The rain was pouring down again and Arthur screeched to a stop just in time to avoid a large mass in the middle of the road. A mass that began to move, slowly but surely across the tarmac.
“It’s a tortoise,” he said, admittedly dumbly. Merlin nodded at his side. Both watched as it did not try to cross to the other side, but instead meandered in the same direction they had been travelling, nearly lost in the shadows. “The blasted thing is either going to get run down or take out someone’s tyres,” Arthur complained.
“Or both,” Merlin helpfully supplied.
Decision made, Arthur unbuckled his belt and reached for the door handle. Lightning cracked above, illuminating both the tortoise and the park it likely came from only a few yards away.
“What are you doing?” Merlin asked, hand on Arthur’s wrist as if to stop him.
“I’m going to move the damned thing so it does not kill others or itself due to its own stupidity,” Arthur replied. God may have created all creatures, but God apparently did not gift out intelligence equally.
“In this weather?” Merlin asked as he peered out at the rain still sheeting down.
“If it were sunny, we could see it. It’s not, so it’s time for a rescue mission,” Arthur smiled. He flipped up the collar of his coat and darted out into the rain, about as surprised at Merlin joining him as he was of the rain already drizzling down his back.
They tried to shoo the tortoise, but to no avail. Merlin started listing all the wondrous things in the park it was about to leave behind, then switched to shouting that common sense dictated it not get itself killed. Neither tactic worked to do more than make Arthur double over with laughter, so they resigned themselves to lifting the thing up and over to the kerb.
That was, of course, when Arthur discovered the thing could snap.
He managed to get his fingers out of the way in time, but was left to contemplate how to move the bloody beast without needing a series of shots from the local clinic. The beams from his car highlighted the predicament, and the baleful glare that the two men received for their efforts.
Finally, Arthur decided he was soaked enough anyway and tore off his coat and quickly wrapped it around the tortoise’s head. Danger averted, he and Merlin then picked the rather heavy animal up and carried it over to grass. When it looked like it was about to head out into the street again, Arthur wrapped it up again and the two men carried down the slight slope to the pond, slipping and sliding and laughing all the way.
Satisfied it was out of danger, at least for a little while, they sloshed back up the slope and into the sedan. Even the heat cranked up to its highest setting was not enough to warm nor dry them, and Merlin insisted Arthur come up to the flat to dry off and reward his heroic rescue with a mug of hot chocolate at the very least. Arthur, a curious bloke on the best of days, was more than interested in seeing just where his assistant and newfound friend lived, agreed and so he found himself dripping puddles in the corridor while Merlin fumbled with a set of keys.
The door opened before he found the right one, Lance looking a combination of shocked and amused at the state of his roommate. “What did you do, go for a swim?” he teased as he opened the door to let him in. It was only then that he saw Arthur behind him, eyes growing wide with likely disbelief at his similar state. “Mr. Pendragon?” he asked.
Arthur took both that and Merlin’s wave as permission to enter, apologizing for the mess as he toed off his muddy shoes on the doormat. “We, uh, had a bit of an adventure,” he grinned.
“It certainly looks like it,” Lance agreed. He looked around frantically, but did not appear to find what he was looking for as he directed, “You stay there, and I’ll get some towels.”
Arthur did as told, not wanting to traipse more mud and water throughout what appeared to be a relatively clean flat. He shook the worst of it out of his hair and swore he heard two voices having a hissed argument followed by a little bit louder, “Look, I’ll get the towels and you get the rest, okay?”
An agreement was apparently reached as Lance soon returned as promised and Arthur began the process of trying to get dry. Merlin towelled off and left for what Arthur assumed was his room, reappearing in sweats a moment later, a man Arthur had yet to meet at his heels. The voice sounded similar though, so he made the assumption that this was the ubiquitous Will, something affirmed when Merlin made the official introductions.
“You headed back out then?” Will asked, gesturing to where lightning lit the sky, neatly framed in a window across from where he stood.
“I promised him hot chocolate,” Merlin frowned padding over to what Arthur assumed was the kitchen. “It his reward for his harrowing rescue mission,” he called over his shoulder before he disappeared from view completely.
Lance raised an eyebrow and Will looked like he was ready to say something, but was quelled by a look from his friend. “If you’re going to stay a bit, let me get you something dry to wear,” Lance insisted.
Arthur protested it was not necessary, not to mention there was no way any clothing of the slight thing that was Merlin would fit his broader form. But Lance reappeared with sweats that appeared to be from his own collection, as broad and wide shouldered as himself. “Thank you,” Arthur told him, more than appreciating the gesture.
“Not a problem,” Lance replied. He gestured down the hallway and said, “Bath’s second door on the right if you want to change.”
Arthur nodded and tried not to make too much of a mess as he tiptoed to the room. He closed the door behind him and took in the sight of one rather bedraggled minister’s son reflected back at him from the mirror on the back of the door. He also took in the fact that there were three toothbrushes in the holder, and three sets of washcloths lining the towel rack. Either Will was a regular guest, or the roommates were well prepared.
He opened the door to find Merlin waiting for him, hands outstretched as he reached for the wet and muddy clothing. “Give me those. I’ll toss them in with mine and see if we can get them dry before you leave,” he directed. Not sure what else to do, Arthur complied.
The laundry was apparently outside of the flat proper, which left Arthur alone with Will and Lance to fully take in his surroundings. It was neatly, if sparsely, furnished with the odd artistic print on the wall and a hodgepodge of afghans lining the chairs and couch. A desk with a rather high-end computer was against one wall, and a television stand and all the accoutrements lined the other.
“Nice place,” Arthur commented, meaning it. It had a homey and comfortable feel to it. He had a feeling he could just sink in and never want to leave if given the chance. Not at all like the house he shared with his father, where it was structure over form, function over comfort.
“It suits our needs,” Lance agreed with a smile.
It was then Arthur noticed Lance had pulled an overshirt on atop the t-shirt he had been wearing when he opened the door, a t-shirt bedecked with a rainbow’s worth of colours and that matched the one Will was wearing at his side.
“Rainbow Coalition?” Arthur guessed. Lance’s nervousness now made sense, as did Will’s defensiveness. The Coalition was a small but vocal group that supported gay rights. They were, unfortunately, often at odds with his father’s speeches and views. Never violent, just persistent, and a rather large thorn in his father’s side. Arthur turned to Will and guessed, “So you would be the third roommate, right?” The flat had two bedrooms; it did not take a genius to figure some things out.
“Is this going to be a problem?” Lance asked. Will crossed his arms at Lance’s side but his nervous swallow gave him away.
“Not at all,” Arthur insisted. “I may not understand it, but I do believe everyone has the right to make their own choices in life.” It was one of the things he and his father disagreed on; his father believed the church should decide for you, with him being the voice of the church, of course.
Will’s face took on an expression of confusion. “But...” he started.
“I’m not my father,” Arthur told him, feeling like much like he supposed Merlin felt when talking to the damned tortoise. It was likely his words meant nothing, but he felt the need to say them just the same. “I know Lance to be a good man, and that is all that matters to me. I have yet to get to know you, but I have to assume the best of you as well.”
The Bible dictated that only God could judge. Lance and Will would face that judgment when the time came, and neither Arthur nor his father would have any say in that. His father’s voice sounded in his mind, telling him it was his duty to convert these men, to convince them of the wrongness of their ways and to damn them to oblivion should they choose to ignore the heed. His own voice argued back, as it once did long before, that he could only choose for himself and hope that others see the light, let him guide them towards it and hopefully a better Eternity.
“But you still don’t trust us,” Will guessed.
“It’s not a matter of trust,” Arthur corrected.
“You don’t think we’re living the way we should,” Will tried reasoning it out. “And you think we’re going to burn in some kind of hell for choosing to be happy instead of miserable.”
Arthur shook his head. In all truth, he did not know what would happen to them, could only guess based on the readings and interpretations and a thousand and one other factors that meant absolutely nothing as they came from man and not God himself. He told them as much. “I simply don’t understand the choice enough to have a say, one way or another,” he shrugged.
“Doesn’t stop your father,” Will pointed out.
Arthur fell back on what was an increasingly familiar mantra in his life: “I’m not my father.”
“No, you’re not,” Lance agreed with a quirk of his lips.
“And you’re likely a better man for it,” Will huffed. While Arthur thought on that, he watched as the other man left to stir a pot in the kitchen, and then called, “Chocolate’s ready.” He took that as the peace offering he was certain it was meant to be.
One thing niggled at the back of his mind though and he felt the need to give voice to it. “Being members of the Coalition, I have to ask, what are your thoughts on Merlin working for the Ministry?”
“They think I’m bloody bonkers,” Merlin replied as he re-entered the flat. He shared a glance with his roommates that Arthur did not fully understand and shrugged, “They’ve asked me why I stay on and I tell them there is good there, you just have to look for it sometimes.”
Arthur admired the honesty, though he had the feeling that there was more to it than that. “And you’ve never once been tempted to dig up our past and share it with the Coalition for a mud-smearing campaign?”
“Oh, I’ve been tempted,” Merlin assured him as he accepted his mug of hot chocolate from Will. The look shared with his roommate turned to a glare at that. Merlin ignored him and leaned up against the counter, wrapping his hands around his over-large mug and breathed in the chocolate scented steam. “When I first started, I was willing to do just that. Then I met you and Gwen and Morgana, and could not bring myself to do it. It would be easy enough to search for things as security is sorely lacking, but I do believe Camelot as a whole wants to do good things. Think of Morgana’s charity centre and all the benefits that would have. If I did anything to dig dirt up on the Ministry, it would risk all of her hard work and hundreds would go without because of it.”
Arthur paused to think about his foster sister’s mission of choice. Their father thought it too fanciful and a waste, but allowed her the time to work on it as it kept her with the church and under his review. She had scaled it back and he had made approving noises, but Arthur had noticed not a single pound had been earmarked for its creation as of the last fiduciary quarter. He did not know enough about it to support or deny it himself and that concerned him. One thing this evening had done thus far is show him there was a great deal he simply did not know, and he wished to actively seek to change that.
He sipped at his own mug and mused, “You know, there was a time in which my father was a good man. He sought to help others, would give a beggar the coat of his back if he thought it would keep him warm on a cold winter’s night.”
“That time is long past,” Will snorted.
“Maybe,” Arthur conceded. “But he’s my father, and I have to believe in him. Deep down, he still wants to help people, help make things better. That message is not always heard, but it’s still there, you know.”
“Sorry, but it’s hard to see beneath the eggings and threats and hate mail that he encourages,” Lance told him not unsympathetically.
Will set down his mug with a huff. “If we’re going to be talking about Uther Pendragon, I’m going to need something stronger than chocolate to tide me over,” he said as he began to dig through the cupboards. He produced a bottle of whiskey and held it aloft with a triumphant grin. “Who wants shares?”
Merlin and Lance bobbed their mugs in accent, and Arthur surprised them, and possibly himself, by doing the same. “You drink?” Lance asked in amazement.
“I’m a theologian, not dead,” Arthur pointed out with a wry grin. Will laughed and poured some directly atop the chocolate, which was to be a new experience for Arthur, but he figured he’d go with the flow. Perhaps it was a way to start learning about some of those apparently many things he did not know and maybe even broaden his horizons.
~~~~~~~~~~
Live Journal:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Dreamwidth:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/284225.html. Current comments
Genre: AU, Slash and Pre-Slash
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin (pre-slash), Lance/Will, slight Arthur/Gwen
Length: ~22,000 words
Rating: R
Warnings: Depictions of homophobia and the aftermath of violence. The rating is due to this more than any sexual overtones.
Synopsis: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13
Prompt: 2121. Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, AU: Uther Pendragon is the head preacher at Camelot Ministries -- the American-style anti-LGBT mega-church that has become popular in Britain. Arthur knows that he's expected to marry Gwen and take over from his father one day -- but when Merlin Emrys is assigned to work as his clerical assistant, Arthur is forced to confront the fact that he is gay.
Author’s Notes: Written for lgbtfest. I hope I did the subject matter justice.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Live Journal:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Dreamwidth:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur sighed as he leaned back in his chair and resisted the urge to rub his forehead. He could feel just the beginning twinges of a headache coming on and it was barely half past eight in the morning. True, it was a perfectly dreary morning, with rain sleeting down outside and promises of more to come, but if this is how he was to begin his week, he could barely think of how it would end. So he pushed away the headache, hoping that it would go away if he paid it no heed, and tried to focus on the task at hand.
Of course, the task at hand would be easier to focus on had he had one before him.
It was a Monday morning after his father had given his standard Sunday sermon for Camelot Ministries. In the past, this would mean trawling through stacks of papers to see the public reaction while fielding phone calls of the same. His morning, and frankly most of the day, would be spent reading vitriol and rage and giving the appropriate responses either by letter or spoken word until he questioned why humanity focused on these things when there were so much more important things in life. The hate distracted from the love which distracted from the message which distracted from God. So instead of spending his time reading old texts and translations and trying to better understand the history of the Word, he was forced to deal with the pettiness and bickering of people who did not like his father’s interpretation of that Word.
To be fair, his father did not make appreciation an easy task at times. His views were vocal and could be extreme, but he spoke from the love within his heart and Arthur had to remember that, remember his father believed in every word he uttered, remember his reasoning and rational came from a higher power else he would not be in his current position as both speaker and head of the church.
His thoughts were wandering and so he tried to focus once more and once more lamented there was nothing to focus on. Three months ago, his father had hired him an assistant. He cited Arthur’s exhaustion and the massive growth of the church. He cited that the task had, perhaps, grown too large for a single man to handle and that he himself had a personal aide. As Arthur was to one day take over for his father, it was important he learned to delegate tasks now, else he be overwhelmed in the future.
Which is how Merlin entered his life. Mister Merlin Emrys, a man about his own age but with a freedom about him Arthur could almost envy, if it did not tend to come with the appearance of ineptitude. Merlin had a way of doing things and he had a way of making you let him do things his way while you sat back and waited for disaster, but were actually presented with something coherent and whole.
Merlin had taken one look at the stack of papers on his first Monday and shook his head with a muttered, “Oh, this will not do at all.” Next thing Arthur knew, he had cancelled several subscriptions, talked his way into a better computer with better internet access, subscribed instead to something he called “feeds” and pretty much organized Arthur’s life to his suiting.
Now, instead of thin newsprint curling and smearing beneath his fingers, Arthur had crisp printouts that were organized into some elaborate filing system after he finished reading them. Articles of interest were emailed to him with the appropriate response addresses included, his schedule digitalized to both his laptop and phone, and only the few papers that were yet to provide what Merlin deemed satisfactory online content were given to him to peruse. It made the job surprisingly easier, even if Arthur was both reluctant to admit it and reluctant to change to the new ways.
Merlin himself was rarely seen without his own phone. Some elaborate thing that seemed to have even more features that Arthur’s that he may have perhaps debated getting a version of for himself not out of jealousy or anything so petty, but to ease the communication barriers that sometimes arose, that was all. The man swore his life was in that thing, with his schedules and calendars and news feeds and music if the headphones were anything to go by. Arthur rarely saw him without it, even as he sat at his desk and perused file after file on a larger lit screen, eyes sometimes lighting in interest before jotting something down and moving on.
Arthur’s mind was drifting, again. He found it often did when it came to his new assistant. He was not sure if it was just the vastly different ways of thinking about things, the man’s infectious attitude and near constant grin, or something more. What he did know was that it was not productive to dwell on such things, so he shook himself out of his reverie and turned to his own computer screen, the familiar Camelot logo of cross and shield now floating before him as he had daydreamed for so long.
He moved the mouse and watched as the screen filled with his email instead, hearing Merlin’s tsking voice in his head that they really needed to lock their computers as it made access to possibly confidential information far too easy. Arthur had tried, but found, like his father, the constant passwords were quite tedious when you were not used to them, and turned the option off, preferring to lock the office door instead.
He had just moved on to his third email, this one actually congratulatory instead of spiteful, when there was a knock on that very door. He looked up to see dear Gwen, punctual as always, a large mug of tea in her hands, steam wafting up and about her. Her hair was pulled back into its usual simple bun, a few errant curls escaping to frame her smiling face. She was beautiful as always, even in her simple button down shirt and skirt, never anything flashy or fancy or distracting, just practical, much like she was herself. She always brought a smile to his face, even on the dreariest of mornings, just by her nature alone.
He could see his father’s approving nod behind her as he walked by, a less than subtle reminder that he thought Gwen the perfect woman for him, the perfect woman to have at his side the day he took over the Ministry.
Gwen had seen it too and rolled her eyes as she hustled into Arthur’s office and placed the mug on a little coaster she had left there for that very purpose longer ago than he remembered now. “But no pressure, right?” she said with her eyes gleaming in amusement.
“None at all,” he agreed with equal solemnity. He picked up the mug and cradled it in his hands, let the warmth of the tea seep into his bones and chase off the last of the chills of the morning. He took a deep, fortifying draught despite the heat, and let it warm his body from within as well as without. “Thank you,” he said, heartfelt. It was amazing how a simple cup of tea could change your day, especially when paired with a friend.
“Anytime,” she brushed it off. She leaned against his desk and took in the distinct lack of printouts and other debris. “Is Merlin out?” she asked with concern.
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but found it entirely unnecessary as his wayward assistant chose that moment to burst in the door, hair plastered to his forehead and thin coat plastered to his shivering body. “Sorry I’m late!” he gasped. Water dripped from his fringe to his eyes, and he blinked it away only for it to roll down his face instead.
Arthur contemplated his tea, and then his soaked assistant. “You will have quite the tale to tell, of that I am certain,” he mused. “But perhaps you should wait until you dry off a bit?”
“Car broke down, there was no bus or taxi in sight, and Lance took nearly a half hour to find me,” Merlin replied as he shook the worst of it out of his hair, drops spattering about the office. Lance was his roommate. Arthur was not certain what he did for a living, but he seemed a decent enough fellow if the sheer number of calls and lunches per week were anything to go by. He always had the same constrained politeness about him that Merlin himself seemed to have, but Arthur could find no fault in the man and would have found a way to offer him a job if needed.
“And you didn’t think to call one of us?” Arthur asked with an arched eyebrow.
Merlin spluttered, paused, and cocked his head to the side before he answered, “Honestly, no.”
“Any one of us would have been happy to give you a ride,” Gwen told him with a pat to his back. She shook the wetness off of her hand and offered, “Why don’t I see if I can find you a towel?”
Merlin watched her leave with that same confused look on his face, which made Arthur roll his eyes. “You do remember that you work for an outreach ministry that believes in helping others, right?”
Merlin looked back to him, sheepish, as he shrugged, “But you are always so busy, or at least seem to be. To interrupt for a ride when you usually have more important things to do...”
“Would have been more than welcome,” Arthur assured him. He looked longingly at his tea, not wanting to indulge even though the simple sight of his assistant was enough to make him shiver when he knew said assistant could probably use it more than he could himself. If he didn’t know Gwen well enough to know she would probably return with a mug as well as the towel, he would have offered him some. Instead, he simply said, “I know the Ministry tends to be known more for the protests and more extremist views but, after working here for three months, surely you’ve noticed there’s more to us than that?”
Merlin looked suitably chided at that. “Yes, I should know,” he admitted. “It just honestly did not cross my mind.”
Arthur smiled at the honesty. “Well, see that it does next time,” he said with false primness, which earned him a quick grin.
Merlin’s no doubt entertaining response was interrupted when Gwen returned with both the promised towel, one usually used to dry the dishes in the kitchenette, and another mug of tea. She handed Merlin the tea and reached up to towel dry his hair herself, mussing it more than anything, the smile on her face letting them both know she knew full well what she was doing. “There, so much better,” she said, setting the towel about Merlin’s shoulders.
“I’m sure,” Merlin laughed, running his fingers through the worst of it and using the edge of the towel to dry his face. “Thank you,” he told her, the appreciation evident in his tone as much as the words.
“Any time,” she smiled. “You might want to put your shoes near the vent to dry a bit; I’m sure no one will begrudge you if you go about in stocking feet for a while,” she pointed out.
“An excellent suggestion,” he replied. He turned to Arthur and said, “And now, if you give me a moment, I can get you those print outs and actually get started for the day.”
Arthur nodded and said the appropriate pleasantries and let everyone go about their day. If he happened to dig up a jumper with the Ministry’s logo left over from a charity sale from the back closet and deposit it in the lap of his still shivering assistant an hour or two later, so be it.
The day went about as normal after that. Hate mail received, donations counted, and phone calls replied to in a timely fashion. Arthur himself explained to his father, the good reverend Uther Pendragon, why Merlin was a bit more bedraggled than usual, and dutifully gave Merlin the brolly that was Uther’s entire reply to the situation. It was not until it was nearing time to leave for the evening that he thought to ask, “Do you have a means home tonight?”
Merlin paused as he signed out of his computer and shut it down for the evening, a startled look about his face. “Um, I forgot to call Lance with the time. Is it okay if I stay late to wait for him? It shouldn’t be more than a half hour at most.”
Arthur shook his head, having none of that. “I’ll give you a ride myself,” he insisted. Merlin looked as if he was to protest, so he gave him a look that he learned usually got him his way, and received a reluctant nod in return.
Merlin grabbed his phone from his desk drawer before locking it, which was the first time Arthur noticed it had not been in his hand constantly all day and made him wonder if it was possible to waterlog such a device, and said, “Let me just go fetch my shoes then.”
Arthur waited, not at all surprised when the leather still squelched and creaked when Merlin returned. Coat on and brolly in hand and Merlin gestured towards the door for Arthur to lead the way. It was not until the two men reached Arthur’s sensible sedan that he thought to ask, “Where do you live, anyway?”
It might have been Arthur’s imagination, but he swore Merlin paled for a moment. He realized that, under other circumstances, it would be rude to ask so directly, but considering he was about to drive them both there, the question seemed warranted. Merlin swallowed heavily before he admitted, “It’s, uh, not the best part of town.”
Arthur should have expected that, in retrospect. Merlin did not come from a wealthy family such as his own, and working for the Ministry might pay the bills, but it was likely not to do much more than that. He also had a vague memory of something about Merlin previously living with those who he served via charity work in the dossier given to him upon Merlin’s hiring as his assistant. If you did not make much, and were used to living in less than ideal conditions, it made sense that you did not waste the little money you had on unnecessary embellishments.
“It’s not a contest or a fashion show, Merlin,” he reminded him. He buckled himself in and started the engine. “Just give me directions and we’ll see you home.”
Merlin, for once, did as he was told. He was not lying that his neighbourhood was less than swank, but it did not seem quite that bad. Arthur recognized the beat up old Volkswagen that usually graced the ministry’s lot less than a mile away from their final destination. He was not certain how secure it was, but he was certain there would be no fixing it in time for work again in the morning.
As Merlin got out in front of a simple brownstone building and thanked him for the ride, Arthur made him promise to give him a call in the morning. “You already have my number and now I know where you live. It’s a simple matter of picking you up,” he reasoned against the protests.
Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after a cheeky, “Aren’t I supposed to be your assistant?”
“You can’t assist if you aren’t there,” Arthur retorted and let him shut the door. As Arthur pulled away, he spared one last glance towards the building, just to make certain that Merlin could get in to his flat. The door was already closing though, leaving him only with the view of several rows of windows, each colourfully, if a bit garishly, decorated with curtains and plants and the odd collection of banners.
The area itself seemed nice enough, if simple. There was a park, pretty empty from the lasting drizzle, and both a coffee house and tea shop only a block down. The sex shop with the giant cartoon condom on the front glass made him blush, but he reminded himself it was to be expected for the area.
It must have been a community thing, or perhaps just a theme, as everything was such a wide range of hues that never seemed to contrast, at least not in the little light of the evening, but was quite the interesting mixture nonetheless. When he stopped at a light, he saw two mates laughing as they darted across the street, grabbing and pulling at each other as they tried to hurry out of the rain, wide smiles on their faces despite the dreariness of the day. All in all, thought Arthur, not a bad place to live.
Arthur awoke a half hour early the next day to make the trip over to Merlin’s flat and drive him in. There was no sign of his assistant at the door, so he got out of his car and walked to the buzzer, thankful the rain decided to hold off, for now. He rang the code and either the system was old enough to muffle voices in a new and interesting way, or someone other than Lance or Merlin answered. “He’ll be right down,” the voice answered rather gruffly, and then line went dead.
Figuring whoever answered was not a morning person, Arthur prepared to wait. Merlin took only a few minutes to appear, still straightening his tie as he descended the steps to the door. “Sorry about that,” he said as he swung it open. “Will’s right cross first thing in the morning.”
That answered one question, but left another. “And Will is?” Arthur prompted.
Merlin blinked, enough that a lesser man would have been suspicious. “Oh, uh, he’s Lance’s friend. He spent the night,” Merlin answered as he led the way to Arthur’s car.
And that answered another question as far as Arthur was concerned. Will was likely a bit hung over, having crashed at a friend’s instead of making it back to his own place. “Ah,” Arthur said in understanding and opened the door.
They chatted idly about random things on the way in and Arthur had to admit he enjoyed the commute far more than he had in recent memory. Talking and teasing with Merlin made for a far better way to start the day than listening to talk radio about all the dire things going on in the world and how Camelot Ministries was either to blame or going to save everyone from it all depending on the position taken that day.
It was to be several days before Merlin’s vehicle was out of the shop, so Arthur began a routine of picking up his assistant and even made the trip to his favourite coffee shop more than once. They worked as they always would, and the commute home was met with more chatter and more laughter.
Arthur did not ask about some of the things he saw along the way, and Merlin seemed more than happy to ignore them as well. The two blokes kissing on a park bench next to the light was hard to ignore, however, and Arthur forced himself to look away, in time to see the blush that rose across Merlin’s cheeks as he too took in the view. It was to be expected as such things were rare and unnatural, or so the voice of his father currently ringing in his head told him. But to look at the joy on their faces as they pulled apart, Arthur was forced to ask how evil could appear so similar to peace.
It all came to a head on Friday night on the way to drop Merlin off at his flat. The rain was pouring down again and Arthur screeched to a stop just in time to avoid a large mass in the middle of the road. A mass that began to move, slowly but surely across the tarmac.
“It’s a tortoise,” he said, admittedly dumbly. Merlin nodded at his side. Both watched as it did not try to cross to the other side, but instead meandered in the same direction they had been travelling, nearly lost in the shadows. “The blasted thing is either going to get run down or take out someone’s tyres,” Arthur complained.
“Or both,” Merlin helpfully supplied.
Decision made, Arthur unbuckled his belt and reached for the door handle. Lightning cracked above, illuminating both the tortoise and the park it likely came from only a few yards away.
“What are you doing?” Merlin asked, hand on Arthur’s wrist as if to stop him.
“I’m going to move the damned thing so it does not kill others or itself due to its own stupidity,” Arthur replied. God may have created all creatures, but God apparently did not gift out intelligence equally.
“In this weather?” Merlin asked as he peered out at the rain still sheeting down.
“If it were sunny, we could see it. It’s not, so it’s time for a rescue mission,” Arthur smiled. He flipped up the collar of his coat and darted out into the rain, about as surprised at Merlin joining him as he was of the rain already drizzling down his back.
They tried to shoo the tortoise, but to no avail. Merlin started listing all the wondrous things in the park it was about to leave behind, then switched to shouting that common sense dictated it not get itself killed. Neither tactic worked to do more than make Arthur double over with laughter, so they resigned themselves to lifting the thing up and over to the kerb.
That was, of course, when Arthur discovered the thing could snap.
He managed to get his fingers out of the way in time, but was left to contemplate how to move the bloody beast without needing a series of shots from the local clinic. The beams from his car highlighted the predicament, and the baleful glare that the two men received for their efforts.
Finally, Arthur decided he was soaked enough anyway and tore off his coat and quickly wrapped it around the tortoise’s head. Danger averted, he and Merlin then picked the rather heavy animal up and carried it over to grass. When it looked like it was about to head out into the street again, Arthur wrapped it up again and the two men carried down the slight slope to the pond, slipping and sliding and laughing all the way.
Satisfied it was out of danger, at least for a little while, they sloshed back up the slope and into the sedan. Even the heat cranked up to its highest setting was not enough to warm nor dry them, and Merlin insisted Arthur come up to the flat to dry off and reward his heroic rescue with a mug of hot chocolate at the very least. Arthur, a curious bloke on the best of days, was more than interested in seeing just where his assistant and newfound friend lived, agreed and so he found himself dripping puddles in the corridor while Merlin fumbled with a set of keys.
The door opened before he found the right one, Lance looking a combination of shocked and amused at the state of his roommate. “What did you do, go for a swim?” he teased as he opened the door to let him in. It was only then that he saw Arthur behind him, eyes growing wide with likely disbelief at his similar state. “Mr. Pendragon?” he asked.
Arthur took both that and Merlin’s wave as permission to enter, apologizing for the mess as he toed off his muddy shoes on the doormat. “We, uh, had a bit of an adventure,” he grinned.
“It certainly looks like it,” Lance agreed. He looked around frantically, but did not appear to find what he was looking for as he directed, “You stay there, and I’ll get some towels.”
Arthur did as told, not wanting to traipse more mud and water throughout what appeared to be a relatively clean flat. He shook the worst of it out of his hair and swore he heard two voices having a hissed argument followed by a little bit louder, “Look, I’ll get the towels and you get the rest, okay?”
An agreement was apparently reached as Lance soon returned as promised and Arthur began the process of trying to get dry. Merlin towelled off and left for what Arthur assumed was his room, reappearing in sweats a moment later, a man Arthur had yet to meet at his heels. The voice sounded similar though, so he made the assumption that this was the ubiquitous Will, something affirmed when Merlin made the official introductions.
“You headed back out then?” Will asked, gesturing to where lightning lit the sky, neatly framed in a window across from where he stood.
“I promised him hot chocolate,” Merlin frowned padding over to what Arthur assumed was the kitchen. “It his reward for his harrowing rescue mission,” he called over his shoulder before he disappeared from view completely.
Lance raised an eyebrow and Will looked like he was ready to say something, but was quelled by a look from his friend. “If you’re going to stay a bit, let me get you something dry to wear,” Lance insisted.
Arthur protested it was not necessary, not to mention there was no way any clothing of the slight thing that was Merlin would fit his broader form. But Lance reappeared with sweats that appeared to be from his own collection, as broad and wide shouldered as himself. “Thank you,” Arthur told him, more than appreciating the gesture.
“Not a problem,” Lance replied. He gestured down the hallway and said, “Bath’s second door on the right if you want to change.”
Arthur nodded and tried not to make too much of a mess as he tiptoed to the room. He closed the door behind him and took in the sight of one rather bedraggled minister’s son reflected back at him from the mirror on the back of the door. He also took in the fact that there were three toothbrushes in the holder, and three sets of washcloths lining the towel rack. Either Will was a regular guest, or the roommates were well prepared.
He opened the door to find Merlin waiting for him, hands outstretched as he reached for the wet and muddy clothing. “Give me those. I’ll toss them in with mine and see if we can get them dry before you leave,” he directed. Not sure what else to do, Arthur complied.
The laundry was apparently outside of the flat proper, which left Arthur alone with Will and Lance to fully take in his surroundings. It was neatly, if sparsely, furnished with the odd artistic print on the wall and a hodgepodge of afghans lining the chairs and couch. A desk with a rather high-end computer was against one wall, and a television stand and all the accoutrements lined the other.
“Nice place,” Arthur commented, meaning it. It had a homey and comfortable feel to it. He had a feeling he could just sink in and never want to leave if given the chance. Not at all like the house he shared with his father, where it was structure over form, function over comfort.
“It suits our needs,” Lance agreed with a smile.
It was then Arthur noticed Lance had pulled an overshirt on atop the t-shirt he had been wearing when he opened the door, a t-shirt bedecked with a rainbow’s worth of colours and that matched the one Will was wearing at his side.
“Rainbow Coalition?” Arthur guessed. Lance’s nervousness now made sense, as did Will’s defensiveness. The Coalition was a small but vocal group that supported gay rights. They were, unfortunately, often at odds with his father’s speeches and views. Never violent, just persistent, and a rather large thorn in his father’s side. Arthur turned to Will and guessed, “So you would be the third roommate, right?” The flat had two bedrooms; it did not take a genius to figure some things out.
“Is this going to be a problem?” Lance asked. Will crossed his arms at Lance’s side but his nervous swallow gave him away.
“Not at all,” Arthur insisted. “I may not understand it, but I do believe everyone has the right to make their own choices in life.” It was one of the things he and his father disagreed on; his father believed the church should decide for you, with him being the voice of the church, of course.
Will’s face took on an expression of confusion. “But...” he started.
“I’m not my father,” Arthur told him, feeling like much like he supposed Merlin felt when talking to the damned tortoise. It was likely his words meant nothing, but he felt the need to say them just the same. “I know Lance to be a good man, and that is all that matters to me. I have yet to get to know you, but I have to assume the best of you as well.”
The Bible dictated that only God could judge. Lance and Will would face that judgment when the time came, and neither Arthur nor his father would have any say in that. His father’s voice sounded in his mind, telling him it was his duty to convert these men, to convince them of the wrongness of their ways and to damn them to oblivion should they choose to ignore the heed. His own voice argued back, as it once did long before, that he could only choose for himself and hope that others see the light, let him guide them towards it and hopefully a better Eternity.
“But you still don’t trust us,” Will guessed.
“It’s not a matter of trust,” Arthur corrected.
“You don’t think we’re living the way we should,” Will tried reasoning it out. “And you think we’re going to burn in some kind of hell for choosing to be happy instead of miserable.”
Arthur shook his head. In all truth, he did not know what would happen to them, could only guess based on the readings and interpretations and a thousand and one other factors that meant absolutely nothing as they came from man and not God himself. He told them as much. “I simply don’t understand the choice enough to have a say, one way or another,” he shrugged.
“Doesn’t stop your father,” Will pointed out.
Arthur fell back on what was an increasingly familiar mantra in his life: “I’m not my father.”
“No, you’re not,” Lance agreed with a quirk of his lips.
“And you’re likely a better man for it,” Will huffed. While Arthur thought on that, he watched as the other man left to stir a pot in the kitchen, and then called, “Chocolate’s ready.” He took that as the peace offering he was certain it was meant to be.
One thing niggled at the back of his mind though and he felt the need to give voice to it. “Being members of the Coalition, I have to ask, what are your thoughts on Merlin working for the Ministry?”
“They think I’m bloody bonkers,” Merlin replied as he re-entered the flat. He shared a glance with his roommates that Arthur did not fully understand and shrugged, “They’ve asked me why I stay on and I tell them there is good there, you just have to look for it sometimes.”
Arthur admired the honesty, though he had the feeling that there was more to it than that. “And you’ve never once been tempted to dig up our past and share it with the Coalition for a mud-smearing campaign?”
“Oh, I’ve been tempted,” Merlin assured him as he accepted his mug of hot chocolate from Will. The look shared with his roommate turned to a glare at that. Merlin ignored him and leaned up against the counter, wrapping his hands around his over-large mug and breathed in the chocolate scented steam. “When I first started, I was willing to do just that. Then I met you and Gwen and Morgana, and could not bring myself to do it. It would be easy enough to search for things as security is sorely lacking, but I do believe Camelot as a whole wants to do good things. Think of Morgana’s charity centre and all the benefits that would have. If I did anything to dig dirt up on the Ministry, it would risk all of her hard work and hundreds would go without because of it.”
Arthur paused to think about his foster sister’s mission of choice. Their father thought it too fanciful and a waste, but allowed her the time to work on it as it kept her with the church and under his review. She had scaled it back and he had made approving noises, but Arthur had noticed not a single pound had been earmarked for its creation as of the last fiduciary quarter. He did not know enough about it to support or deny it himself and that concerned him. One thing this evening had done thus far is show him there was a great deal he simply did not know, and he wished to actively seek to change that.
He sipped at his own mug and mused, “You know, there was a time in which my father was a good man. He sought to help others, would give a beggar the coat of his back if he thought it would keep him warm on a cold winter’s night.”
“That time is long past,” Will snorted.
“Maybe,” Arthur conceded. “But he’s my father, and I have to believe in him. Deep down, he still wants to help people, help make things better. That message is not always heard, but it’s still there, you know.”
“Sorry, but it’s hard to see beneath the eggings and threats and hate mail that he encourages,” Lance told him not unsympathetically.
Will set down his mug with a huff. “If we’re going to be talking about Uther Pendragon, I’m going to need something stronger than chocolate to tide me over,” he said as he began to dig through the cupboards. He produced a bottle of whiskey and held it aloft with a triumphant grin. “Who wants shares?”
Merlin and Lance bobbed their mugs in accent, and Arthur surprised them, and possibly himself, by doing the same. “You drink?” Lance asked in amazement.
“I’m a theologian, not dead,” Arthur pointed out with a wry grin. Will laughed and poured some directly atop the chocolate, which was to be a new experience for Arthur, but he figured he’d go with the flow. Perhaps it was a way to start learning about some of those apparently many things he did not know and maybe even broaden his horizons.
~~~~~~~~~~
Live Journal:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Dreamwidth:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/284225.html. Current comments