Ok, I couldn't wait to put up the next chapter as I'm feeling that old fanfic buzz after a while of writers block and it feels sooo good! Also, forgot to do all the legal stuff...Do not own Merlin or any of the characters, wish I did. Do not steal my work or I will hunt you down. I'm from Belfast, we're scary here.
Chapter Two-These Our Actors.
"Oh, you can't hear me cry,
See my dreams all die,
From where you're standing,
On your own.
It's so quiet here,
And I feel so cold.
This house no longer feels like home."
"So you'll come tonight?"
Guinievere gazed up at him, her chocolate brown eyes shining with excitement. "Of course I will!"
"Good. I'll pick you up in the limo at seven. We'll have to arrive early to walk the carpet." He made to move past her towards the waiting car, but she caught his arm and he turned back to look at her.
"I love you, Arthur Pendragon."
Fuck, he'd actually done it…He forced a smile as a wave of guilt washed over him. . He'd set out to make her do just that and just one look at her expression, so adoring, told him that he'd been successful. She loved him completely… and he loathed himself for his success, because he didn't-couldn't-ever feel the same. She was a nice person, a good, kind person…And beautiful, so beautiful. But he was twisted, broken, couldn't be fixed…
"I love you too Gwen." He whispered, hating himself for lying to her. After all, it wasn't her fault-she was just a pawn in a game she was to naïve to be even aware of, collateral damage. He lifted her face towards his and kissed her mechanically before holding the car door open for her while she got in and watching it disappear down the avenue.
Back inside the mansion it was dark and cool. He closed the heavy oak front door and slumped miserably against it, rubbing a weary hand over his face. He was beginning to wonder how long he could keep this up…And then his father's voice reverberated around the vast entrance hall reminding him that he didn't have a choice.
"Well done Arthur."
He looked up at the sound of slow clapping. Uther Pendragon stood at the foot of the sweeping oak staircase, his lips pursed in his usual calculating smirk as he narrowed his eyes at his first born son, coolly assessing him for any cracks, any signs of weakness, or worse, defiance. Arthur forced himself to remain expressionless.
"Guinevere is a good choice." His uncle Agravaine, perched on the step above his father like a malevolent black raven hovering at his shoulder. "Mixed race and new money, it's true…But she is very beautiful and her father's company will make a welcome addition to the corporation."
Ah, the corporation; Camelot-the largest corporation in the U.K and worth billions. His family had owned it for generations, handing it down from father to son, each generation adding to its success. One day he would own it…whether he wanted it or not-Although lately he'd began to wonder if they really ran the corporation at all anymore, or if it ran them. Certainly he felt like nothing more than a cog in the machine. Everything for Camelot, his father had always said…Including him…
"I'm glad you approve uncle."
He pushed past them and marched purposefully to his room, conscious of their stares burning between the blades of his shoulders.
Upstairs he slumped amongst the tangled sheets of his unmade bed and stared about his room as if he'd never seen it before. Certainly it seemed like it belonged to someone else. The furniture and wallpaper had been picked by an interior designer from Harrods; the flat-screen, wall-mounted television, computer and sound system were so state of the art that he had no idea how to work them; the designer suits that hung in his wardrobe had been tailored to fit but still made him feel like a little boy playing dress-up in his father's clothes. It made his stomach ache to look at them. Most eighteen year olds didn't even own a suit…But, then, he wasn't most eighteen year olds.
He lay back against the pillows, and tried to rub the exhaustion from his eyes. He'd been having the nightmare again, over and over, always the same one- It was dark, he was in a stone room, tiny, too tiny, so small that he couldn't even stand up properly. Claustrophobia would seize hold of him and he'd panic, hyperventilating, pounding the walls, the roof, searching for a way out…Then he'd see it, a a chink of light in the pitch black, and he'd crawl desperately towards it, calling for help to the person he knew was above him…But just as he reached the small gap the person above would slide the two final stones into place, plunging him into darkness, burying him alive…
He'd wake up screaming. In the past he'd found himself crawling on the floor, he'd even broken windows trying to escape the stone prison from his nightmares. His father's private doctor had diagnosed anxiety and REM sleep disorder and prescribed him beta-blockers and sedatives, but he couldn't bring himself to take them. For some reason he couldn't fathom, they felt like control.
His bedroom door creaked open and he felt his mattress sink under his father's weight as he sat down.
"Honestly Arthur, this room is a tip. I can't fathom why you won't let the maids come and clean it." There was an edge of suspicion to Uther's tone, as if he actually had any secrets left to hide from him. There was no room for privacy in Camelot.
"They hide my things."
"I just wanted to congratulate you again on your fledgling relationship with Gwen. She is the perfect match for you."
"For Camelot, you mean."
"Arthur, don't be petulant." Anger shot through his veins at that. Petulant! He wasn't a child! Above him his father continued. "You'll date her for a year or so, then, before she makes plans for university, you'll propose to her. You'll marry her, and I'll discuss mergers with her father, then you'll take over the corporation when I retire…"
And there it was-his whole life mapped out for him, from cradle to grave, just as it had been the moment his mother had found out she was expecting a son…And God forbid he should think he had any sort of a say in it. He sat up, a sudden surge of hatred giving him courage, making him hiss through his teeth. "Well aren't you just the fucking puppet-master?! Pulling all our strings!"
For a moment he thought his father was going to hit him. Instead he caught him by the back of the neck and pulled him close, pressing his face into his so that he could see the rage in his ice-blue eyes.
"Now you listen to me Arthur, you will marry Gwen! I have worked my fingers to the bone to make Camelot what it is, and I will not allow you to destroy it! This isn't just about you. It's about your family, the corporation's investors, its workers, their families. Reputation in business is everything and I will not let you destroy the impeccable one I and generations of the Pendragon family have built up. You will marry that girl, you will inherit the corporation, and I will do my fucking best to forget that…that unpleasantness from last summer. Am I making myself clear?! WELL?!"
Last summer…The mere mention of it made any courage he'd had at that moment dissolve away. If only he hadn't been taken in, if only he hadn't been so stupid, if only he hadn't trusted Oscar-that manipulative, conniving, twisted little bastard, if only…
"WELL?!"
He found himself nodding, his cheeks burning.
"Good." His father released him and stood, turning to throw one last frosty look in his direction. "And Arthur?"
He swallowed. "Yes father?"
"I expect grandchildren. There will be grandchildren, won't there? The survival of Camelot depends on it."
Suddenly he felt so ashamed. He nodded again, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
"Y-yes Father."
"Good. Now, take your medication and get some rest. I know you haven't been sleeping." He lifted his medication and tossed it at him before leaving the room, slamming the door after him with a bang that seemed to echo through the whole house…So cold since she'd died. He hadn't even had the chance to know her…but he missed her. Unlike his father, he knew that she'd never hate him for what had happened, for what he was. He was so exhausted. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to shed all this pain and shame and grief and guilt and just be numb.
Arthur bent to lift the pill bottles where they'd landed on the floor by his feet, rolling them between his fingers and examining the labels. Not for the first time, he thought about taking them all at once.
Ok, so please please leave comments and let me know what you think!
