Chapter Two.

23rd June, 1947

"While it isn't hard to believe that you would slack on your duties, you're right. We had better get going," Arthur reluctantly said, as he wanted nothing else than to stay right where he was, tucked between the sheets and the soft mattress, tangling his limbs with Merlin's.

Merlin was nodding softly, clearly as disappointed as Arthur felt. He was looking at Arthur expectantly, like he anticipated Arthur reading his thoughts, which he could. Arthur responded by leaning in once more for one last kiss to get them both through the long day ahead.

Before he could reach Merlin's lips, however, he heard his bedroom door creak open, followed by a familiar voice calling his name. He felt Merlin rapidly look over his shoulder. A shadow was cast in the doorway, and Arthur's eyes ripped open to find his father standing gobsmacked and still in the doorway. It didn't take long for the truth to press down upon him, and his expression flashed from confusion to fury.

"Father!" Arthur heard himself shout from somewhere very far away. His voice was already pleading and, although he could not see Merlin's face, he knew how terrified his expression would be.

"What in the name of God is going on here?" Uther demanded through his teeth, taking a few steps into the room before stopping dead, as though he didn't want to get too close.

Arthur was sitting up straight now, trying to find a shred of composure despite his nudity beneath the sheets. Merlin had not moved, could not move.

"Father, please—" Arthur began, wondering if any words of explanation could get through his constricted throat.

Uther put a hand up, his eyes averted to the open windows behind his son.

"Come downstairs immediately—the both of you," he said, his voice shaking with anger, and he turned to leave. For a moment, Arthur expected him to look over his shoulder, but he never faltered, and the door slammed in his wake.

It wasn't until the footsteps died away down the corridor did Merlin jump and stare at Arthur. His mouth was wide open, moving in silent words that he could not find, and soft, unintelligible noises rose from his throat until they formed the utterance, "Arthur—"

"I know," Arthur told him, remembering his muscles functions and cupping Merlin's cheeks firmly in his palms. He fished for Merlin's gaze. "I know, listen to me, Merlin—"

Merlin was looking at him with fear and hope, clearly willing to follow any plan Arthur might have. But Arthur found, under Merlin's petrified gaze, he wasn't coming up with any logical tactics, though his mind did whirl. Should he tell Merlin to flee? To leave the manor and never come back? But then Arthur would never see him again. Uther would surely find them if Arthur ran, too. He didn't know if he could bear losing Merlin forever.

"We'll make him see. We'll make him understand," Arthur tried to convince himself, but Merlin wasn't so sure. He shook his head between Arthur's hands.

"He won't understand. I'm going to get kicked out. Arthur—"

"He has to!" Arthur hissed harshly, shaking Merlin a bit. It made Merlin's breath catch, and Arthur immediately regretted his actions. He hadn't meant to take his frustration out on Merlin, but it leaked through.

"He has to," Arthur said more softly this time, stroking Merlin's cheekbone with his thumb. "I will protect you, Merlin," he promised, "and your mother. I won't let anything bad happen."

Merlin visibly swallowed passed the lump in his throat and nodding frantically, wanting to believe. Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's frame, holding him close, and feeling his heart beat in swift tandem with Arthur's own.

They had to go. Forestalling it would only make it worse.

Minutes later, they stood outside the elaborate white double-doors of the parlor, staring at each other in dread of opening them up. Arthur placed his ear against the wood, hoping to hear what was happening beyond, but all was silent so he straightened out and took a sweeping look around the main corridor. He could run back up the carpeted staircase right now and hide, or grab Merlin's hand and head out the main door forever. Instead, he steeled himself.

"Are you ready?" he asked Merlin, keeping his nerves out of his tone.

"No," Merlin answered truthfully, but there were trace amounts of bravado in his features.

Arthur gave him a curt nod and pushed his way through to the room, and Merlin stalked closely behind. The first person Arthur saw was his father, standing next to grand fireplace and staring intently into the cold hearth. On the armchair to his right was Morgana, Arthur's older sister, who reacted as soon as she saw her brother. She sat up straighter and met him with wide, sorry eyes that Arthur sincerely hoped would soften Uther like they sometimes did; though, he doubted it would work this time. Standing by the glass table next to the ornate couch was an earthly-looking, brunette woman in a servant's uniform.

"Mother," Merlin gasped in her direction, and her red eyes bore into him for as long as they could before she looked back at the carpet.

Arthur cast her a contrite glance before his eyes flickered imploringly to Morgana, who surreptitiously nodded her support, and finally rested on Uther, whose back was still facing him.

"Father, I understand your anger," Arthur began calmly, knowing it was best to get the first word. It was unlikely he'd get the last.

Uther turned around to face them, and his face might have been made from the same stone of the statues in the gardens. Arthur suddenly forgot every word in his lexicon, and he averted his eyes from the intensity of Uther's glare. He felt like a little boy who had snuck into the kitchens passed his bedtime under that stare.

He physically felt the weight of Uther's gaze leave him, and it focused on Merlin, which knocked Arthur back into his senses. He looked next to him, watching Merlin shuffle under the scrutiny, and he inched closer until their shoulders touched through the fabric of their sleeves. Arthur wished he could reach out and take Merlin's hand in his own, but that would only make matters worse, so this contact would have to do. It seemed to calm Merlin, if only a little.

"I've phoned one of the doctors in my network," Uther spoke at last. He crossed his hands behind his back and paced forward towards the other men. "He has agreed to take you under his care, Mr. Emrys."

Merlin's wide eyes shot up in shock, and Arthur might have sprained his neck in how rapidly he turned it towards his father.

"What? No!" Arthur said, his first instinct being to argue, to defend. He took a step forward without really thinking about it, but Uther did not even look at him. "Father, please listen—"

"He's sending two of his men to collect you as we speak," Uther continued, riding over the rest of Arthur's words. "There will be no need to pack. Everything you need will be provided for you in hospital until you are . . . cured of your affliction."

"Please, sir," Merlin begged before Arthur had a chance to speak. His voice was thick. "I can't—I can't leave my mother. And she—we can't afford a hospital. I—"

"Your mother will be cared for," Uther assured him. "I have arranged to pay the bill, and Hunith has agreed to continue working here until the debt is paid."

"And then what?" Arthur countered angrily. "You send her out—leave her on the streets with no money?"

Uther turned away again, and Arthur felt fire in his chest.

"They will have to find other accommodation after the boy returns," he said over his shoulder. "He can't stay here."

To this, Hunith stepped forward.

"Lord Pendragon, if I may?" she said meekly. "He is my only son. Let us go. We'll leave within the hour."

Uther paced towards Hunith and placed a large palm on her boney shoulder. Her frame was even smaller than her son's, but she had never appeared so shrunk than in that moment.

"Have I not always looked out for you, Hunith?" he asked.

She took in a sharp breath and looked down at her shoes. "Yes, sir."

"And I will continue to look after all those in my charge," he promised her. "Your son needs treatment. He is very ill."

"What?" Merlin choked out, and Uther's eyes were hard when they swooped back towards him.

Across the room, Morgana sat to attention, her gaze ricocheting back and forth from one party to the next.

"This isn't a sickness, Father," Arthur almost yelled. Still, Uther's appalled eyes were on Merlin. It enraged Arthur. "Look at me! If you send him away, you'll have to send me, too!"

At once, Uther turned his glare on Arthur. It made Arthur tense every muscle, but he held his own.

"No," Uther said simply, turning back to the hearth. "This can never come to light. Your treatments will be conducted here, in private—by the finest doctors in England. You and the boy must remain separate, indefinitely."

There was a screech of brakes in the roundabout drive outside the window, but Arthur felt as though all sound had faded to a muffled din, echoing in the crevice of his chest.

"Father—"

It was Morgana who spoke up, but she was quickly silenced.

"This is none of your concern."

"No," Arthur found himself saying. He was marching single-mindedly towards his father now. "You can't do this. I won't let you—"

Behind him, he was somewhat aware that Merlin had rushed to Hunith's side.

"Don't listen to him, Mother, please," he was begging, his hands clutching hers. She had begun to cry silently. "We can leave now. We can go to Uncle Gaius'. Please, Mother. Don't let him send me away . . ."

"—He isn't ill! Neither am I!" Arthur was shouting. "I love him!"

"How dare you," Uther said, fury shaking his voice as he spun around to face his son. "If your mother could hear you saying such things, what would she think? It would break her heart."

"And you'd rather break mine while I still live?" Arthur yelled back, feeling pressure in his eyes that he would not—could not—set free.

The doors to the parlor opened again, revealing Geoffrey Valiant, the butler, and two large men in white.

"Father, this is rash and you know it," Morgana was saying. At the same time, Arthur continued, "If you think you'll keep him away for long, you're mistaken . . ."

"Arthur—" Merlin kept saying, trying to get Arthur's attention.

The siblings kept talking over one another, and Hunith was crying openly now, until all the sounds of the room melded together and became indistinguishable.

"Enough!" Uther boomed, and everything fell silent. "This is not how we act with guests in our home."

He glanced towards the two newcomers and inclined his head towards Merlin.

"Gentlemen, if you'd please."

On his word, the orderlies started for Merlin. One held a firm grip to Merlin's bicep and started leading him towards the door, and Merlin was looking over his shoulder, his beseeching eyes flashing from Arthur to Hunith.

"Mother, please," he tried again, but she kept her eyes to the floor.

"Arthur!"

The cry set Arthur into motion. He ran the length of the room towards Merlin, grabbing his other arm as tightly as he could. Merlin was trembling, but he dug his heels into the carpet, not budging, no matter how hard the orderly pulled.

"I will not leave you for long, I promise," Arthur told him in a hushed tone, standing close. "I will work this out. I will find you."

Tears lined his long lashes, and droplets fell when Merlin nodded fervently.

At this point, the second orderly had grabbed hold of Merlin's shirt, and the two forced him in the direction of the door. Merlin managed to struggle against them for a moment longer, with Arthur's help, in time to say softly, "I do love you. Every day until the day I die."

"Every day," Arthur promised, and he was able to jerk Merlin closer and into a hard kiss until Merlin's lips were ripped away with a whimper in the next moment.

Arthur's fingers slipped from Merlin's arm, and the men shoved him out of the door, and suddenly the reality of it crashed down upon Arthur.

"Merlin!" he shouted, meaning to go after him, but he felt Valiant's strong arms holding him back. The man was double Arthur's size, and he couldn't break free.

Hunith buried her face into her palms behind them and Uther sounded very distant to Arthur as he said, "It's for the best."

Arthur elbowed Valiant forcefully in the gut and, in the moment of weakness, tore out of the room and down the main corridor. He flung the door open, causing it to slam heavily into the wall, and he did not stop running until he felt the loose gravel of the drive beneath his shoes. He slowed to a stop, letting his arms swing to his sides, as he realized he was too late.

The car was already turning out of the gate, engine rumbling and wheels kicking up dust as it went.

Arthur stormed out of his father's study and, once he'd cleared the door into the hallway, balled his fists at his sides and let out a low, frustrated grumble that did nothing to make him feel better. He wished he could scream, rage; but he kept his composure and headed to the parlor, praying it would be empty so that he might have some time alone to think.

When he reached it, he found Morgana lounging, for all the world like Aphrodite might at home atop Mount Olympus, although Arthur would have sooner pegged her as Athena, on the couch with a book in her hands. Arthur found a strange comfort in her presence, so he plopped down on the armchair adjacent to her and sunk deep into thought.

"That bad?" Morgana asked, barely glancing up from her novel as she turned the page.

Arthur, realizing his jaw was visibly tense from grinding his teeth, relaxed his muscles and sat up a little straighter. "Is it that obvious?"

Morgana gave a sigh, placed her book down, and gave her brother her full attention.

"I can try speaking with him again, if you'd like?" she offered, but Arthur shook his head.

"He won't listen," he said. Morgana was the only person who could ever get through to Uther, but even she had only a fifty percent success rate. "You know what he's like."

She nodded solemnly and jutted out her jaw, but said nothing.

"And it's not like I haven't been trying beyond talking to him," Arthur continued, finding a need to justify himself. "I've been looking—but I've only managed to get to two of the hospitals so far, especially with George breathing down my neck every moment of the day." He said the name like it contained venom.

Morgana let out a humorless laugh. "Arthur, father owns almost every private hospital in Kent. At the rate you're going, you won't find Merlin for months."

"You think I don't know that?" Arthur answered harshly and, when he saw the hurt look in Morgana's eyes, he regretted his tone. He let out a tired breath and said, softer now, "It's been a week today . . ."

She nodded. "I realized that," he heard her say as he closed his eyes and fingered at the grooves in the leather armrest.

"I just can't stand the fact that he's out there somewhere as some sort of—lab rat," he emoted, removing his index finger from the chair and rubbing at his eye with it. "And Hunith hasn't done anything about it. She's just letting him rot—"

"Now, that's not fair," Morgana reproved him. "She didn't know what else to do."

"I know," Arthur allowed, looking miserable. "It's all my fault."

"Arthur," Morgana said, leaning over and placing a comforting hand on his knee. "Don't ever think that."

He snorted. "Easy for you to say," he told her, eyeing the stunning diamond ring on her finger. "You love who you're supposed to love."

"As do you," she said soothingly. "Just because Leon is a man and I'm a woman doesn't make our love any different than yours."

"I know a few of my therapists who would beg to differ," he said dryly.

To this, Morgana looked alert. "Don't you have a session this afternoon?"

He nodded. "In about ten minutes," he informed her, rolling his eyes. "George wouldn't dare let me miss it. He's been keeping me to a very strict routine."

"Well, at least someone's listening to the doctors," Morgana joked, and Arthur tried to smirk politely.

Suddenly, something clicked in his brain.

"But who do the doctors listen to?" he thought aloud.

Morgana looked perplexed. "What?"

"Morgana," Arthur started, looking right at her and sitting up straight. "They listen to the hospital benefactors—Father. He makes visits to the hospitals to make sure the doctors are doing right by him." He felt a little lightheaded at the prospect. "Morgana, Father is going to have to visit Merlin's ward eventually!"

She shook her head in curiosity, even though Arthur was sure she was following. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do!" he said, but she wasn't giving way. "He takes you on his rounds."

"Not always," she said sheepishly.

"Make it always!" he ordered, and he suddenly realized he wasn't in the right position for this request. Swiftly, he fell out of his chair and landed in front of her on his knees, clasping her hands. "Morgana, I'm begging you," he said, scanning her expression. "You have to go with him. You have to find out what hospital Merlin is in. I can't: They barely let me out of the house."

She shook her head. "I don't see what good finding out what hospital—"

"It's a start!" he yelled impatiently, but quickly controlled himself and looked up at her imploringly. "Morgana, please."

There was a long pause of drawn out silence, into which the grandfather clock echoed across the room, until she nodded softly. "Okay," she agreed, and Arthur felt a weight lift off his heart. "I will try."

"Thank you," he whispered.

Seconds later, the door of the parlor creaked open, and a very stiff looking man with short hair marched through. Arthur realized he was still kneeling in front of his sister, which must have looked strange, but George did not make it his business. He simply stood upright next to the door.

"Sir, the doctor is here," he reported, and Arthur glared at him with open distaste.

In reality, George was the perfect manservant. He was attentive, doting, professional . . .

Arthur despised him.

He must have been the most boring man on the planet, and Arthur had his suspicions that Uther had deliberately hired someone Arthur would hate.

"I'm coming, George," Arthur answered, a bite to his tone, but George barely batted an eyelash to it.

Morgana gave Arthur's hand a quick squeeze, silently promising to keep their secret, before he stood up and pushed passed George into the corridor.

20th May, 1945

Arthur pulled at his tie, loosening its tight grip around his neck and causing his collar to become dilapidated. Uther shot him a sidelong look of disapproval, and Arthur stood a little straighter and cleared his throat. His eyes were on the doors of the parlor.

"He's five minutes late," he said, his ears heightened to the ticking of the grandfather clock. "He hasn't even started yet and he's already the worst manservant in history."

Uther sighed dejectedly, but he must have been thinking the same because he left his post before the door and crossed the room to the drinks trolley and poured himself a finger of scotch.

"You don't know what kind of manservant he'll be, Arthur," he said in the meantime. "He may be perfectly competent."

Arthur snorted. "I doubt it. I don't even know why I need a manservant, anyway. I managed just fine during my terms."

"Yes, but you aren't in university anymore," Uther reminded him, "and you became almost unbearable during the summer holidays. You can't have every servant in this household at your beck and call every moment; they have other responsibilities. You need someone full-time, so keep your mind open," he advised, and it wasn't so much words of wisdom as it was a do-what-I-say-or-else. "We don't want a repeat of the last fiasco."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "It's hardly my fault Jonas smelled to high heavens," Arthur huffed. "In my defense, I asked him to take care of it at least twice. I had to sack him, Father. How could I expect a man to take care of me when he didn't even care for himself?"

Uther seemed to not have heard the speech, because he continued: "Or the one before that."

"Cedric had these dead eyes," Arthur defended, shivering slightly at the memory. "He watched me sleep. It made my skin crawl."

"I couldn't even hold on to a governess for very long with you children," Uther complained, clutching the back of the leather chair in front of him and draining his glass.

"Oh—Catrina was a horrible woman, and I'm not the only one who thought so!" Arthur protested at once. He looked towards the sofa to Morgana for back up, but she seemed unconcerned. She had her nose buried in Jane Eyre, which Arthur was certain she'd read at least a dozen times before. He was convinced she was secretly in love with Rochester, and he didn't blame her.

"That doesn't excuse the fact that you drew trolls all over the walls of her bedroom," Uther maintained, but there was the shadow of an amused grin on his face.

"That was Morgana's idea!" Arthur exclaimed, mostly because he was certain Morgana wasn't paying attention.

It seemed he had been wrong, because she dropped the book to her lap and crooned, "It was not."

"Fine, but they were your painting supplies," Arthur reposed.

She replied by giving her slyest, one-sided smirk before once more disappearing behind her novel.

"It doesn't matter," Uther decided. "All that matters is that you get along with this boy, Arthur. His father was very good to us. He was the only one who could get you to eat your vegetables as a child."

Arthur let out a heavy sigh but did not argue. Balinor had been the Pendragons' chef all of Arthur's life, until he went to fight in the war a little over two years ago. It had been three weeks since they learned of his death.

"I was very grateful to him, as was your mother, and his wife and child will need steady income now that he's gone," Uther continued. "See that you get along with Balinor's son. You must at least try. I'm a very busy man; I don't have time to search for a new manservant for you every time you find fault in one." It was said with such finality that Arthur didn't dare to even think a word against it.

A car had pulled up the drive and, minutes later, the then butler, Aredian, came through to the parlor and announced the arrival of Hunith and Merlin Emrys. The two followed in his wake, both gazing uncertainly around the grand surroundings and clutching their brown suitcases.

"Welcome, Hunith," Uther greeted, a large and political smile on his face as he strode toward the newcomers. He went straight for the woman, small and plain but pretty, and clasped a hand on her shoulder. She smiled warmly up at him. "I trust the journey wasn't too strenuous?"

"No, it went very well, sir, thank you," she said in a sweet voice.

"And this must be Merlin," Uther said, moving to place his palm on Merlin's shoulder and offering the boy his other. Merlin shook it like he didn't quite know what to do with it.

"Yes, it is," Hunith said, smiling at her son with a soft expression that Arthur found himself averting his gaze from. No one had ever looked at him like that. He had never seen the love in his mother's eyes, especially not directed at him; it didn't show in the photographs he'd seen of her.

"Good," Uther said, turning sideways and gesturing towards his children in turn. "This is my daughter, Morgana, and this is Arthur."

It brought Arthur back into the moment, and he fixed Merlin with a hard stare. Uther moved away to give Arthur space to pace over and walk a circle around Merlin, sizing him up. He was gaunt, but not scrawny, with a shock of black hair against porcelain skin, and dark blue eyes that looked indigo, like the star-speckled sky, beneath his lashes in the low light. He must have been eighteen-years-old, but only just, and he struck Arthur as something fey-like and enchanting—like some character from the stories Morgana would read to him as child.

But perhaps that was just the ears . . .

Regardless, he didn't smell like Jonas had, so Arthur entertained the thought of this working.

"Tell me, Merlin," Arthur said as he circled back to Merlin's front and folded his arms behind his back. Merlin respectfully did not meet his eyes. "Do you bathe regularly?"

Merlin furrowed a perplexed brow but, before he could even open his mouth, Hunith piped up, "Yes, he's very hygienic."

Arthur nodded and hummed in response. His thoughts turned to Cedric. "And will you give me personal space when I ask it of you?"

"Merlin is ready to follow any orders you have, sir," Hunith said, and Arthur turned his eyes on her in irritated confusion before looking back to Merlin.

"Do you know how to speak, or do you just let her talk for you?" Arthur asked, pointing a lofty finger at Hunith, who fell silent.

However, Arthur must have said something offensive, because Merlin glowered at him directly and snipped, "I do know how to speak. I also know how to use my manners, especially towards a woman."

Arthur's brows darted towards his hairline.

"Sir," Merlin added, biting down on the word, half remembering his place and half demonstrating his point. Arthur didn't know whether to be scandalized or impressed, so he kept his expression neutral and scanned Merlin up and down with his eyes. Merlin did not falter beneath the scrutiny.

"Well, now that we all know each other," Uther chimed in, breaking the tension, "Aredian will show you to your rooms—and give you the grand tour."

Hunith thanked him politely and Merlin shot Arthur one last look before they picked up their luggage and followed Aredian back into the hallway. Uther said nothing, but gave Arthur a fleeting, stern look before following them out and heading towards his study.

Arthur kept his eyes fixed on the door, as though it may open again to reveal Merlin, and he hardly realized that Morgana had crept up to his side until she nudged his shoulder with hers.

"So, what do you think?" she asked teasingly, already knowing the answer.

Arthur cast her a glance out of the corner of his eyes before looking straight again.

"I don't like him," he said simply, and made his way out of the room.