A/N – Hi guys! So this is my second Merlin story – although the first one is Merthur – I wanted to try something different while I figure out where I want the other story to go. Don't worry, those of you who are awaiting the next chapter of 'Twelve Days of Camping', there will be more up soon. This is more like an idea for a story that just would not go away – I know you know what I mean :)
This is unbeat'd, so sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes. If you're up for the job, IM me?
Obviously, I don't own Merlin, Arthur or any of the other stunning members of BBC's Merlin – they all belong to their respective parties.
I also don't own 'On My Own' – Samantha Barks or 'You're the Voice' – John Farnham (although, I wonder how many of you will pick up on why I used the latter song?)
Basically, I only own Ebony-Ann d'Sylviac and her family!
Without further ado…I hope you enjoy! Reviews are more motivational than chocolate – just so you know ;)
The Shift…
The lecture theatre is massive, cold and painted the ugliest shade of yellow Ebony d'Sylviac has ever seen. It's also empty at the moment, what with her 'first day paranoia' – being late to her first seminar at Easlington University has been one of her worst reoccurring nightmares for the last few weeks, coming only second to standing in said room, completely butt naked while the entire student body point and laugh. Unfortunately, the result being that she'd caught the number 42 bus from the city centre at 7.46 that morning for a half an hour journey, a good twenty minutes earlier than she'd needed to get (because there is so much traffic at 7.46 in the morning – supply the right amount of sarcasm here) and arrived at Callaghan block at 8.27 after a short ten minute walk from the university bus stop on the other side of campus. Oh, and the lecture doesn't start until 9. Great. Living in student accommodation might have been a good idea after all – then again, why bother when there's a lovely woman named mum in a lovely big house only half an hour away? Breakfast in bed, laundry service and bank all rolled into one. Yeah, so she's aware that there is no person in the world more spoilt than her, but she doesn't act like a bitch about it, so all's good. Yep. Definitely.
"What to do, what to do?" Sighs Ebony, pursing her lips and dumping her bag (Prada Pyramide – yep, bitches) on the nearest table before collapsing into the chair behind it. Ouch, uncomfortable much? Drawing her legs up under her, sitting lotus style, she slips her iPhone from her jeggings (Vivienne Westwood – mmm-hmm) to check her texts. Silent mode is a damn annoyance, but a necessary one. Vibrate makes her jump every time it jiggles her leg, and if left on loud then the chances of it ringing, and people knowing that her ring tone is John Farnham's 'You're the Voice' (her love for 80's power ballads is something that Can. Not. Be. Public. Knowledge) is not exactly appealing.
Mum: Gd luck! Xxx
Carl: Call me when you get the chance. Important. – Yep, daddy dearest, ever the dick.
Emma: Take pics of as mny guys as u can! I plan on bed hopping when I visit ya ;) lmao! Xxxxx
Tapping away a quick 'thanks' to her mum she scrolls through her contacts, calling her dad. Emma, her absent best friend (who got a full ride scholarship to Yale, and who is currently all the way across the pond from her home country) deserves at least an hour's Skype anyway. She can deal with that when she gets home.
"I text you ten minutes ago, Ebony-Ann" Scolds her father, the moment he accepts the call. Without as much as a 'good morning'. "The point of having a mobile phone is that it is with you constantly."
"How are you this fine morning, father? Are the birds chirping and the sun shining wherever the fuck you are? I'm afraid a grey cloud has appeared in the sky over hear. Shame – it was such a nice day until I heard your dulcet tones" Snipes Ebony, ignoring the use of her full name. Ebony- Ann, ick!
"Language! I'm still your father, Ebony. Don't speak to me like that"
"Didn't you hear the 'father' in my greeting? Trust me; I'm very aware of your part in my being here. I mean, not so much the raising, but give the man a medal for ejaculation!"
"Yes, well, if I had have been there for your childhood, you most certainly wouldn't be the disappointment you are now" Growls her father. She can almost hear his jaw clench, and hand contract around the phone.
"Disappointment? I think you're confusing me with the spawn of Satan you and Mindy are raising." Muses Ebony, examining her nails absentmindedly. Her brother, Jakob or something, from his father's bit on the side, is just over a month older than her. Her poor mother, seven months pregnant, had discovered her husband's second family, and promptly kicked the bastard out. Apart from the odd birthday and Christmas cards, Ebony had had barely any contact with her biological father from the ages of foetus to seventeen. In the last year, he'd developed a conscience (or something). Which was extremely irritating.
"Jason has nothing to do with this" Says her father, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself. Jason! So, not Jakob then. Ha.
"Do spit it out, you said it was important. Did you find another grey hair in your beard?" Asks Ebony in a sickeningly sweet voice.
"You're eighteen, Ebony; please try to act your age" Sighs her father, before continuing quickly, "I'm coming back to England"
"Ugh, and you couldn't have told me sooner? I'd have gone to Princeton with Emma" Grumbles Ebony, her stomach doing somersaults.
"Princeton is prestigious, Ebony" Sneers her father.
"I'm aware of that. And I would have gotten in if I'd of taken the SAT's last year"
"Mmm-hmm" hums her father non-commitally.
"I got three A's and a fucking A star at A-level!" Huffs Ebony, finally unable to keep up the blasé attitude she'd been holding on to. "Not that you'd know that. I'm sure you were far too busy celebrating Jakobs D's"
"Jason is heading the Vancouver office, Ebony; he is gaining practical experience in my company. After all, he'll be CEO when I step down"
"Yep, and what a brilliant idea that is. Out of your two children, the one you're picking to run your company, you choose the one who flunked college over the one who got an A in business. Good choice, father, good choice."
"That is not something that concerns you"
"Good. Look, my lecture is about to start, say whatever it is that you have to say and then fuck the hell off"
"As I said, I'm coming back to England. Jason and Mindy are staying in Vancouver but I'll land tomorrow afternoon, and I would like you to meet me for dinner"
"What?" Splutters Ebony, dropping her nail file against her desk. "No!"
"Ebony, I need to talk to you about something that is best done in person"
"I'd rather meet Voldemort in person, thanks"
"Fine, I'll do this over the phone" sighs her father, "your grandfather, my dad, died last week"
"Why are you telling me this? I never met the man"
"Honestly, I wasn't going to. But I received an email this morning, from my mother, saying that she found a letter addressed to an Ebony-Ann d'Sylviac in my father's study. I don't know how he knew your name, or why he'd have written you a letter, but I think you should have it."
"And you couldn't have sent it over to me?" Pushes Ebony, trying to find a way (any way!) to not ever have to see Carl Clarke.
"I would like to meet you"
"Bollocks" States Ebony coldly, "you want to make sure he hasn't given away your inheritance to his estranged granddaughter"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ebony. I want to finally meet my daughter."
"Why now?"
"I can't explain it, but I feel like the now is the right time. So will you meet me tomorrow evening?"
"It doesn't really seem like I have a choice"
X/X/X/X/X/X/X/X
The next two days fly by in a rush of inductions, introductions and the odd bit of learning. History had always been Ebony's passion, the people, the places, the everything of the past fascinated Ebony, to the point that she'd immersed herself in the subject all throughout school and college, and was now taking it for her BA. Rome had always been her favourite part of the courses, but only because she'd never found an institution which offered a course specifically devoted to Arthurian Legend. Camelot was, and always had been, her first love and it had been a gleeful twist of fate that Easlington offered a Medieval England course with Arthurian Legend as a specialist module through all three years. Ebony had always been told that she was a riddle wrapped in a conundrum – the stereotypical popular girl, shallow, spoilt and bitchy half the time, but a geeky, mummy's girl able to fangirl over things like 80's power ballads, Star Wars and anything else remotely comic-con or convention worthy as the best of them. Well, if she was normal, people would get bored.
Far too soon for her liking, Ebony is being led to a secluded table in Launceston Place by an absolutely stunning man whose waistcoat is just a smidge too tight, swathing his impressive looking chest in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. And if she keeps her eyes trained on his arse (oh, god!) more than where she's walking then it's only because she's human. Ebony herself is wearing a new dress (Ralph Lauren, no less) that she'd talked her mum into getting her the day before because there was no way that she was going to meet her father for the first time dressed in something last season! It's a gorgeous dress, if she does say so she, all emerald silk and dark brown leather straps criss-crossing over her back and dipping perfectly down her chest, showing enough of her décolletage to be considered tastefully revealing. It sweeps the floor just enough to still be able to see the Jimmy Choo heels, buckled up her feet, over her ankles and up to mid-calf like an extended version of the Caligae Roman soldiers wore, poke out from underneath. The entire ensemble is finished off with the brown leather clutch bag that she is most definitely clutching in her hand in a vice like grip as she catches a glimpse of the man sat at the only table that she could possibly be being led to.
"Mr Clarke, your guest has arrived" announces the Maitre d' before holding her seat out for her. Throwing her flirtiest smile at Mr Fuckable she slips into the proffered seat, accepting the menu that is handed to her. A smile graces the man's lips, and she feels as much as see his eyes sweep over her.
"I do hope you brought a jacket with you" deadpans my father, his voice hitting her like a blow to the stomach.
"Why bother? I'm giving the waiters a lap dance at the end of the evening" she says back in a monotone. The Maitre d' smiles even wider, bowing his head to her before backing away slowly, eyes trained on her face. "Could we have a bottle of Château Pétrus, please" Asks Ebony quickly, before the Maitre d' is out of earshot.
"Certainly, ma'am" replies the Maitre d', sending her one more secret smile before retreating to get the much needed wine.
"Well at least you have good taste in wine" compliments her father as if her taste for alcoholic beverages is a building block for a good father daughter relationship.
"Yes, well, mum likes the finer things in life. That's probably why she left you" Snipes Ebony, glaring at the man across from her.
"She left me because I was fucking her secretary" replies her father, matching her glare for glare.
"Classy. I don't get my tastes from you then, eh? I can't stand things cheap and easy"
"That's my wife you're talking about, Ebony. Mind your mouth"
"Oh, I know. Your seventeenth anniversary is coming up, isn't it? That's quite an achievement, father." Congratulates Ebony sarcastically, "but tell me, how many more half brothers and sisters do I have running around?"
"Are you always this difficult?"
"Only with people I don't like"
"You don't know me, Ebony. Save your judgments until you can say you know the person you're judging" advices her father, still perusing the menu instead of returning her steeling gaze. "Anyway, perhaps we should start this again? Good evening, it's lovely to finally meet you"
"I can't say the same, I'm afraid. I'm here for my letter and the excuse to buy a new dress, that's all. I already have a dad, father. So it seems that you're kind of surplus to requirement"
"Your mother remarried?" Asks her father, suddenly intense.
"Obviously" I scoff, "mums maiden name wasn't d'Sylviac, was it? They got married when I was two; he's my dad as far as I'm concerned"
"Did she have any more children?"
"Adara and Clarice"
"I'm happy for her" he says, slightly whimsically.
"Whatever" grunts Ebony, sighing in relief as the wine turns up. She takes a massive sip the moment her glass is full.
"Are you ready to order?" Asks the waiter, looking between Ebony and her father.
"The Samundari Khazana, please" orders Ebony, her mouth watering slightly at the seafood curry – no matter how disgusting it sounds, it's the most delicious thing in the entire world.
"Albarragena Jamon Iberico de Bellota, thank you" Orders her father brusquely, passing the menus back to the waiter and taking a slow sip of his own wine.
"So, can I have to letter now?"
"Certainly" replies her father, pulling an envelope out of his suit jackets inside pocket and handing it over to Ebony.
The first thing she notices is that it's heavy, far too heavy to be normal paper. It feels more like papyrus and when she turns it over in her hand, notices the elaborate wax seal holding the envelope together. Imprinted in the wax is a bird in flight, its wings spread abreast, long and lean, about the size of a falcon. It is almost a shame to run her finger under the seal and unfold the letter. What she'd originally thought was an envelope isn't one, the paper had been folded in a way that meant that on one side is the elegant script addressing her, and on the other is a neatly penned paragraph.
My dearest Ebony,
I have lived a long life, one full of regrets and heartache, happiness and love, but you are the light I take to my grave. I am aware that my time is coming to an end, and as the life finally leaves me, I am finding it increasingly difficult to keep my distance from you. However, my dear, I know that my efforts would be futile – we are not destined to meet in this lifetime. Take these words as the ramblings of an old man, or as the warnings of destiny, whichever you wish – you are head strong and stubborn, so like the Dollophead, but more powerful than you possibly know right now. Trust yourself when all seems lost, look for the Raven and follow your heart – it will get you in trouble, but it is golden.
You once said to me that a strange old man gave you a ring, one that shone like the sun and felt like the purest love. You entrusted it to me, with parting words than warm my heart. I promised you, Lady Ebony-Ann.
Take this, and know that we shall see you soon, Princess.
ME
Oh, and do not have a bath tonight.
"This was sent with it" mumbles her father, handing Ebony a small box. "The box is made of ebony."
"Wow" says Ebony, opening the box gently. Nestled in emerald silk inside the box is the most beautiful piece of jewellery she has ever seen. "It's...its stunning" gasps Ebony. It's intricately woven pieces of silver, wrapped around a milky crystal; it looks like a mix between a pearl and a diamond, something that Ebony has never seen before in all her years of shopping, and into a delicate band.
"What did the letter say?"
"I'm not entirely sure" admits Ebony, so entranced by the ring that she doesn't think twice about handing the letter over to her father. He takes it silently as she slips the ring onto the fourth finger on her right hand. It fits perfectly. A surge of something warm runs through her veins to rest lightly in her chest.
"My father's name was Andrew Clarke. Who is ME?"
"Why are you asking me? I never met the man" replies Ebony, but the normal sting isn't in the words. She feels slightly light headed.
X/X/X/X/X/X/X
The rest of the evening is spent pretty much in silence, Ebony eating slowly and admiring the ring every time it catches the light as she lifts her fork to her mouth (yep, the fork in her right hand. No amount of fancy restaurants could ever change that habit) as he father sits and scowls into his food. They part ways with an awkward shoulder pat from her father as she slides into a taxi.
"How was it?" Asks Adara the moment Ebony gets through the door, almost like she'd been sat in the foyer waiting for Ebony to get home – yeah, she probably had been.
"Awkward" replies Ebony, handing her coat (Armani, duh) to Rosa, the live-in house keeper, and walking through to the kitchen, Adara trailing in her wake like a puppy.
"But you're not scowling, that's gotta be good"
"It could have been worse, I suppose" admits Ebony, pulling a half full bottle of Sassicaia out of the fridge and pouring a generous amount of the white wine into a glass. "Are mum and dad home yet?"
"Yeah, waiting for you in the living room. Mums been going a little bit crazy, worrying how he'd treat you"
"I'd better go and calm her down then"
"I think the half bottle of Sassicaia dads poured down her throat has done the trick already" laughs Adara, giving Ebony a quick hug and almost skipping out of the room. Bless the little imp. Ebony loved Clarice dearly, but with eight years between Ebony and Adara, their relationship had always been strongest in an overly protective big sister and adoring youngster kind of way.
"Mum!" Calls Ebony, climbing the stairs slowly, one hand holding her glass whilst the other one stops her from tripping over the dress – ripping the hem would not be good. Nor would tripping and face-planting the stairs, obviously.
"In here, darling" replies her mum, slightly slurred and too loud in the virtually silent house. "How'd it go?"
"Awkward, but fine. We didn't really talk much" says Ebony, leaving out the bickering and insults – there was no need to worry her more, "The letter from his father was weird though. I left it in my bag; you can read it in the morning. And he said that it wasn't even written by the right man" Explains Ebony, turning at the sound of footsteps at the door.
"God, I wish I had some credit in making you look so beautiful" laughs her dad (step-father technically, but he was dad in every way that counts) as he envelopes her in a tight hug.
"Ha, you did. It's called your credit card" Chuckles Ebony against his shoulder, earning herself a light-hearted smack to the back of her head, followed by a kiss to her temple as he let her go. Ebony squeezes one last time, aware that he'd been dreading tonight as much as she had, but for very different reasons. He'd been so worried that they'd get on, that he'd be replaced. She knew it, she'd tried to reassure him, but understandably it still niggled.
"Who was the letter signed by then, sweet?" Asks her mum, snuggling up to Ebony as she hitches her dress round her thighs and plonks down on the sofa and into her mum's side. There is nobody in the world she loves more than this woman!
"Someone whose initials were M E. He said his father's name was Andrew Clarke"
"Yeah, it was. That's weird"
"Yep. The content of the letter itself was bloody strange. Oh, and it came with this" says Ebony, holding her right hand out in front of her mums face so that she can see the ring that Ebony can't bring herself to take off.
"God, it's beautiful!" Gushes her mother, grabbing Ebony's hand to have a closer look.
"Too right it is"
"You sound tired" says her dad, peering at her with concern from one of the plush armchairs scattered around the room.
"I am tired" yawns Ebony, glancing at the clock on the mantel ticking the evening away, it's already ten past ten. "I was up and half six this morning to get to Easlington. I'm telling you, after twelve weeks of sleeping in, early mornings are a bitch."
"Shouldn't have become nocturnal then, should you" laughs her mum, kissing her head and ushering her to bed. "Night, darling. Sleep well"
"You too. Night dad"
"Night" calls her dad as she makes her way down the corridor.
Placing the now pretty much empty glass on the vanity she lets her hair down, watching in the mirror as cascades of black waves tumble down and frame her face. Her eyeliner is smudged, creating something between smoky make-up and panda eyes, making her eyes even darker. They're normally the darkest brown that she has ever seen, one shade from being called as night black as her hair. They're one of her favourite features, especially when encompassed in moonlight, the paleness of her skin even more pronounced. She was once called a modern day snow white – hair as dark as night, skin as pale as snow, lips as red as blood – by a cock of an ex-boyfriend who's one redeeming quality was the fact that he was very good at compliments. It appealed to her ego. Well, that and great sex. But great sex can't make up for a lack of absolutely everything else. Honestly.
Slipping quickly out of her dress and hanging it on the door of the wardrobe she presses to play button on her iPod, squeaking in delight as the first song that comes on is Samantha Barks version of 'On My Own' from Les Mis.
On my own
Pretending he's beside me
All alone
I walk with him till morning
Without him
I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And he has found me
She sings along; voice a high soprano in perfect sync with Samantha, feeling the heat settled in her chest from earlier that evening thrumming happily through her blood, her nerves tingling like tiny caresses against every inch of her skin.
"Too much wine" declares Ebony, finishing the final mouthful. It hits the back of her throat a little too quickly, making her splutter, some of the wine rushing through her sinus' and out of her nose. It burns! Like fuck! Stumbling to the sink in the ensuite, she grabs a flannel, lathering it up and rubbing her face. The cool water feels like heaven against her flushed skin. A wash isn't enough. Flipping the electric shower on, holding her hand under the torrent of water to get the right temperature, she hops under the water as words come flooding back to her;
Oh, and do not have a bath tonight
Oh, and do not have a bath tonight
Oh, and do not have a bath tonight
Fuck it, it's a shower anyway, not a bath, and it was a weird letter from a weird man with amazing taste in jewellery who may or may not be related to her. Nothing to take seriously. Anyway, the water feels too good now to get out of the shower. Samantha carries on singing in the background, her voice lifting beautifully over the gentle rush of the water.
In the rain the pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and ever
Squirting a rather large dollop of shampoo (gotta love apples) into her hand, she rubs it into her hair, teasing out the knots and massaging her scalp, silently apologizing for stabbing pins into it for the entire evening.
And I know it's only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him
And although I know that he is blind
Still I say, that there is a way for us
There's a light, like a muted flicker of a flame. It bounces off of the glass, casting streaks of orange against Ebony's skin, criss-crossing the flash like a cage of light. She doesn't notice, her eyes still closed, head tipped back under the shower head.
I love him
But when the night is over
He is gone
The river's just a river
Without him
The world around me changes
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers
The glow, the song, the rush of water morphing, joining, and complimenting each other. Ebony sighs contentedly, shutting the shower off, her ears once again filled with the beauty that is Samantha Barks' voice. Such a devastating song. A devastating ending for a truly beautiful character. But I wish I had that kind of love, even for just a second, I wish someone loved me as desperately as Éponine loved Marius – thinks Ebony, noticing for the first time the burnished orange, golden flecked light glistening around her.
I love him
But every day I'm learning
All my life
I've only been pretending
Without me
His world will go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known
She moves slowly, cautious, and wraps a towel around her – a fluffy, white one that is the kind of towel that you just want to snuggle up into. The light flickers, moves and shifts as her hands tie the material around her chest. The ring catches her attention, the milky crystal swirling with flakes of gold; mesmerizing, beautiful, hypnotizing.
I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own…
The crystal intensifies; the gold exploding in a shower of sparks and heat, drawing all oxygen from the room as Ebony's vision tunnels and her world tilts, before the sparks dim and everything goes black.