Hello everyone, hope all is well. Here's chapter 7, hope you enjoy. I'm very excited for chapter 8, hope to have it to you all soon. Happy reading!

YoureAnIllusion

Chapter 7: Welcome to My Broken Home

Arthur made record time back to the estate after he left Vivian bawling in the school parking lot. Speeding a good twenty miles per hour above the set limits, he began to wonder what exactly he was racing home for anyway. The reality set in that his father was scheduled to return from his business trip that morning, meaning it was only a matter of time before Uther summoned his son to account for his actions. Though Arthur had assured Morgana on numerous occasions that he wasn't afraid of Uther's wrath, deep down he knew his father would have more than a few cross words for him after this incident.

Pulling his convertible into his parking space near the fountain, Arthur groaned when he saw his father's car parked on the opposite side. He tried to push the unpleasant thoughts out of his head as he jogged up the steps; his direction took him determinedly through the foyer straight to the kitchen. Stella always had food prepared for him after he returned home from classes, and he hadn't spoken with her for quite some time.

He smelt the aromas from the kitchen before he actually entered and when he did, he found Stella with Marge and Alice, all three women cooking and quietly gossiping. As soon as the young Pendragon appeared in the doorway, the chatter ceased.

"Arthur," Stella greeted him happily with a smile.

"Hey, Stella." Arthur looked around the kitchen at the two other maids, who silently turned their backs to Arthur. "Pardon me, but may we have a moment?" he asked, addressing the two cooks, who had suddenly become timid.

The women looked up, startled, as Stella nodded for them to leave. Alice and Marge glued their gaze to the tiled floor as they silently and quickly brushed past Arthur.

Stella walked to the sink to wash her hands, as Arthur picked an apple from the large fruit basket.

"What's the matter? You look a little down," Stella noted as Arthur pulled out a stool.

Tiredly, he rubbed his hands over his face, feeling his rough facial hair begin to make an appearance. "Is Father back?" he asked, ignoring Stella's inquiry.

"Yes, of course—" Stella began before her gaze focused on the battered state of Arthur's knuckles. Quickly drying her hands, she moved to stand across from him, releasing a gasp as she saw the true extent of his injuries. Gently she pulled his right hand away from his face. "What happened to you Arthur?"

Arthur promptly yanked his bruised hand out of Stella's, embarrassed and not wanting to account for his actions just yet. "You should see the other guy," he quipped, attempting make light of the situation.

Stella saw right through his forced and unconvincing smile as she picked up her wooden rolling pin. "You've been fighting again, haven't you?"

"You make it sound like it's a common occurrence."

"Common enough, and stop trying to avoid telling me what happened."

Arthur averted his gaze as he finally relented. He quickly recounted the entire incident to Stella who listened quietly and thoughtfully, proceeding in her tasks.

"I told you them boys were trouble, Arthur."

"They were fine until yesterday. I couldn't be a part of their brutality."

"And I'm proud that you weren't. I figured one day something like this would happen; where you'd realize that you're too good for their company."

Arthur looked away once again, shame overtaking him as he remembered past events that weren't so noble. "No I'm not, Stella."

"Yes you are. That took courage Arthur – standing up for someone like that even when you know you'll get flack for it. Now, I can't speak for Gwen, but she's a good girl. I'm sure she's fine, and grateful for what you've done. I don't like fighting… but sometimes you have to. And I'm proud of you, Arthur, very proud."

Arthur's cheeks flushed at Stella's heartfelt praise. "Yeah, but Father sure won't feel the same way."

Stella shrugged. "Then he's wrong."

Arthur smiled at her honesty. "I wonder when he'll yell at me for all of this. Lecturing me on fighting, and reminding me of how reckless I am. Blah, blah, blah."

"He'll probably call you into his office soon. Boy, he's gonna be mad!" Stella nearly laughed as she shook her head. "You better start preparing your excuses now."

Arthur resisted a glare, as he wondered why Stella couldn't sugarcoat things… at least sometimes. "I bought Guinevere a new copy of the book that was destroyed by one of my 'friends' yesterday. I figured that she at least deserved that."

Stella blinked a couple of times rapidly. "Did you now?"

"Yeah, Clarence ran out last night to pick it up for me. I told him I didn't care if he had to go a hundred miles to find the thing; I wanted it immediately so that I could give it to Guinevere today. He said he had to go to three separate stores to find it."

Stella was impressed that Arthur would make such a grand gesture towards Gwen. "Three stores, you said?"

Arthur nodded as he continued to eat his apple. "Yeah, he's a good guy. I hope Guinevere found it," he said, smiling to himself.

Stella looked up from her rolling pin to find Arthur with a dopey grin on his face. "Found it? What does that mean?"

"What! Nothing, I m-m-mean—"

"Arthur, quit stuttering. Why are you acting so strange today? Did Roger knock you upside your head too?"

You're the second person to tell me that I've been acting strange today… "I'm just fine Stella. Just a little—"

Their conversation was cut short by the screech from a pair of shoes in front of the kitchen doorway. Gwen appeared soon after, resting on the doorframe, slightly out of breath. "Miss Stella, have you seen Ar—" she rushed out before she took a second look about the kitchen. She blinked at the sight of Arthur, not expecting to find him there. She wasn't prepared to face him just yet.

Arthur stood once Gwen came into full view, self-consciously running a hand through his hair. The two forgot Stella's presence as various thoughts rushed through their minds.

"Yes, dear?" Stella asked impatiently, disrupting the silence.

Gwen shook her head, as she addressed Arthur, finally stating the reason of her sudden appearance. "Mr. Pendragon wishes to see you… in his office, sir."

Arthur's shoulders sagged, as he gulped rather audibly; the time for reckoning had finally arrived.

"You better get going then; you know how he hates waiting," Stella reminded Arthur as he watched Gwen quickly rush out of the kitchen.

Arthur didn't linger to hear Stella finish her thought, for he took off in the direction Gwen had departed.

Stella looked up, realizing that Arthur had abruptly left, not waiting for her to finish. She had known the young man since birth, and usually he was an open book to her. But she could tell there was something else stirring in him, and for the life of her she couldn't put a finger on it. Stella eventually chalked up the unusual anxiety to nerves and stress from school and home.

Her thoughts were disrupted as Alice and Marge walked back into the kitchen laughing loudly. "That boy tore out of here faster than a speedin' bullet! He nearly knocked us over, Stella!" Marge remarked, as she walked to the back counter.

Arthur nearly ran to catch up with Gwen as she walked away from the kitchen into an adjacent hallway, next to several guest rooms. "Guinevere!" he called out in a harsh whisper, as the maid pretended not to hear his footsteps behind her.

She finally stopped, realizing that Arthur would follow her all the way outside, until she finally acknowledged him. Still, she didn't face him as he finally came to stand next to her. Gwen looked down the hall, watching a servant go up the stairs with a basket full of laundry. On the opposite end of the hall sounds of sweeping could be heard, all observations indicating that they were far from being alone.

Guinevere finally turned to Arthur, who waited patiently for her to address him. "Sir, your father's waiting for you, and he didn't sound too happy," Gwen reminded him.

"He can wait; I wanted to talk to you."

"About what exactly?" Gwen whispered as a servant nodded at the two of them as she made her way to the kitchen.

"You know damn well about what," he whispered as well.

Gwen gulped as she looked at the various people, who were in earshot and could easily eavesdrop on their entire conversation. Arthur too took a look around at the several employees, who pretended to be carrying on with their tasks, but were obviously listening in. Without thinking, he quickly took Gwen by the arm pulling her into an empty room next door. He closed the door softly, as a wide-eyed Gwen watched him, his strong hand still encircling her arm.

"Sir, this isn't a good idea. I'll be more than willing to talk to you later, but…" Gwen wasn't sure how to voice her opposition to the situation he had created by speaking to her in private, in an empty room, with several witnesses nearby.

"I don't care," he stated, releasing her arm, and waving his hands. "People always talk in this house. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Gwen quickly looked away, hiding her wrist under her apron. "I'm okay. It was no big deal."

Arthur immediately noticed her gesture, and knew she was hiding the bruises. "Is that the hand?" he asked pointing.

Gwen mutely nodded.

"May I… see?"

Slowly Gwen moved her purple wrist, as Arthur put his own hand out to assess her wounds. A small gasp resulted as he saw the large angry handprint of Roger's grip covering her small and dainty wrist. "That bastard," he snarled in response.

"It'll heal."

"He's still a bastard."

Despite herself, Gwen released a small giggle, coaxing a smile from Arthur. "I must thank you though. I'd have this printed across my face as well if it wasn't for you."

"You're welcome, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I wouldn't let him hurt you — I mean, I wouldn't let him hurt any woman."

"And for the book, that was too kind, you really shouldn't have."

He took a step forward, closer. "Of course, you deserve a replacement."

Gwen looked around the bedroom as she cleared her throat, wondering if the conversation would continue. "Your father is waiting." Gwen looked down at her hand, which Arthur was still holding. "Sir…you can let go of my hand now."

Arthur let go of her hand like a hot potato, stuffing his own in his pocket.

"Call me Arthur. I think we know each other well enough by now."

She looked up, shaking her head, and met his gaze. "No, I couldn't, it'd be too improper."

"I insist… people I care about have such a privilege."

Gwen didn't tear her eyes from Arthur's, though she felt extremely light headed, and her stomach began to knot. It must have been a simple slip of the tongue… it had to be. However, she quickly began to rethink that last statement, for the gaze Arthur had on her was like no other. It was almost as if his lovely blue eyes were peering straight into her soul; he saw her.

"Arthur!" Morgana could be heard calling for her cousin in the hallway.

Arthur and Guinevere tore their gaze from each other, refocusing on the door, and Morgana's nearing voice.

"Arthur, you have to go now," Gwen said ever so softly.

Arthur smiled as he heard his name roll off of her tongue for the first time. He looked back at Gwen, unwilling to part with her just yet. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but he was afraid that more confessions would slip. Maybe it was a blessing that Morgana had come along. Arthur stepped out of the room without saying another word to Gwen, opening the bedroom door just wide enough so he could slip out, and avoid exposing her.

"Arthur, what were you doing in there? Didn't you hear me calling earlier?" Morgana asked, a little out of breath.

"Sorry. I was looking for something," he rushed out quickly.

"You can do that later… if you survive. Uncle is going crazy, I'm positive that he found out about yesterday."

"Yeah, me too…" Arthur's voice trailed off as he glanced at the closed door leading to the guest bedroom. "On a scale from one to ten... how angry would you say he is?"

Morgana didn't hesitate with her bluntness. "Level thirteen, for sure."

"Damn…"

"And wasting more time here isn't helping!" Morgana nearly yelled.

Arthur finally took heed to her warning as he left the hallway, jogging all the way to his father's office. Normally, he would have taken his time in getting there, but he had already kept him waiting for much longer than he should have. Once outside the office doors, Arthur took a moment to collect all the confused and jumbled thoughts in his mind. He finally knocked, waiting for his father's permission to enter.

"Arthur? That better be you!" Uther yelled angrily from the other side.

Without responding, the young Pendragon pushed open the double doors and then closed them softly behind him. His father stood behind his desk, hands on his hips as he stared out of a nearby window. Arthur walked to the opposite side of his father's desk, deciding that it would be best if he remained standing.

"Arthur Lewis Pendragon…" Uther began slowly and deliberately. Arthur could tell that his father was doing his best to control his tone and decibel level. "You'd better have a damn good explanation for this mess," he hissed, finally facing his son, the vein in his neck already throbbing.

Arthur swallowed in a vain attempt to relieve the sudden dryness in his throat. "I take it you've heard about what happened—"

"Don't you dare use your sarcasm with me!"

Arthur sighed: "I'm not. I just… wanted to see how much you already knew."

"Oh, you want to know what I know, Arthur?"

Arthur stood his ground, resisting the urge to nod to his father.

Uther needed no further encouragement to begin his rant. "I come back to what should have been my tranquil home from a tiring weekend in New York, and the first thing I'm bombarded with is a message from Lucy: to call Ned Nelson. And I ask myself: 'Why would Ned Nelson, someone who fixes watches for a living, need to talk to me?' So I call Ned, on my own time mind you, and you know what he tells me?"

"No, what?" Arthur played along, doing his best to remain as respectful as possible.

"That my son," Uther yelled, slamming a fist down on his desk, resulting in several things toppling over, "started a street fight, in broad daylight. Also, that it took two grown men to restrain him, and that he was swearing like some inbred fool! And you know what that fight was over, son?"

"No… what?" Arthur asked, gritting his teeth.

Uther finally let the cap off of what little control he had maintained, not caring to keep his voice hush any longer. "It was over the new maid! Now please tell me, Ned Nelson has finally lost his damn mind, and it's not true!"

"Then I'd be a liar," Arthur stated with a calmness he certainly didn't feel.

Uther took a moment to still his racing mind as his eyes narrowed to slits. "Should I even bat an eye at your antics anymore, Arthur? I always thought I had raised you better, but then you run off and do things like this. I can't even go on a business trip, without some sort of calamity occurring at home!"

"You did raise me well father, and that's why I had to do something when I saw Guinevere being manhandled by Roger."

Uther paused, confusion clouding his features. "Who the hell is Guinevere?"

"The maid, the woman Roger was attacking."

"Arthur, there were other ways you could've dealt with the situation, something that didn't include tackling Roger like a quarterback!"

Despite the intensity of the moment, Arthur had to swallow a chuckle; the analogy was actually quite accurate.

"Roger had to be taken to the hospital! I hope you know that I'm going to have to pay for the medical bills… a damn broken rib Arthur? You know, I can only cover your ass so much, and my patience with your recklessness is growing thin, boy! How on earth am I supposed to conduct business with Russell Davenport, Roger's father, after this? Are you just hell bent on soiling our name?"

"Father, if you expect me to watch an innocent woman be battered in public… well I'd rather not be a Pendragon if that's what Pendragon men are supposed to do! I know Guinevere is a colored—"

"Oh, Arthur, please!" Uther said, turning.

"But she's still human, and I won't apologize for defending a woman... no matter what her color is. I bet you wouldn't be upset if she was white," Arthur scoffed. As he watched his father's mouth form a straight line, he immediately wished that he had chosen a different set of words. He knew his father was resisting the urge to jump over the desk, and strangle him.

"You will hold your tongue, boy!" Uther yelled angrily, pointing his finger at his disrespectful son. "This issue is much greater than mere race or skin color. It's about my—your – reputation. But naturally, the fact that she's a poor colored woman just makes it even worse! Arthur, the world we live in isn't perfect… and there are certain things we cannot change. I can't have you picking fights around town over people like her." Uther's voice became slightly calmer.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "And who would 'people like her' be, father? I can't believe that you're upset with me, because I did the right thing!"

"Arthur, I'm upset that you'd be so reckless as to batter and alienate the people we have no choice but to socialize with! Do you not realize the complications you have created for me? All over some petty maid…"

"All you care about is your business, you don't care about people… well I do."

"Well, this is a new development. When did you become so chivalrous?" Uther scoffed.

Arthur remained silent.

"Now you listen up Arthur; you're going to march down to that expensive school that I pay for, and apologize to your friends."

Arthur scoffed. "They are not my friends. I'm not going to apologize for doing what's right! They need to be the ones apologizing to Guinevere!"

"Arthur, throw away your useless utopian ideas! This is the way things have been done for years! The coloreds know their place, the Jews know theirs; it's high time that you learnt yours. No white man is going to apologize to some colored, especially if it was her fault!"

"Her fault?"

"Enough Arthur, enough!" Uther said, waving his arms. "Now, I don't know where you're getting these crazy ideas from, but they're not welcome in this house. You created this mess, now you will fix it! I'm getting too old for this; I'm sick and tired of cleaning up after you! So you will humble yourself, and apologize. I don't give a damn if you're lying through your teeth; it's for the good of our family and the family business."

Arthur shook his head violently as he folded his arms across his chest. "I will do no such thing. I'm not sure what Ned Nelson told you happened, but what those three 'friends' of mine need is another kick up the backside, not me kissing it. I won't do it… I refuse."

Uther observed his son, utterly speechless at his stoic defiance and stubbornness. "I don't know why I even bother anymore! The only thing you've succeeded in doing is being a royal disgrace!"

Arthur decided that he had had enough; his father wasn't interested in the truth, only in belittling him.

"There you go, turning your back to your problems, yet again."

"No; I'm just not doing this with you right now."

Arthur nearly ripped the double doors off of their sturdy hinges as he blew out of the room. He could still hear his father calling after him as he stormed out a set of French doors, and onto the back patio. Not wasting a single moment, he lit a much-wanted cigarette as he stepped down from the concrete patio. Uther's voice began to dissipate as Arthur's loafers crunched against the expensive green grass. Some male servants were completing yard work on the grounds, and paused to nod at their fuming master. Arthur ignored them, afraid that if he were to speak at all, profanities would come spilling out.

He always knew that he wasn't the model son his demanding father had set out to have, yet hearing out loud how his father really felt about him hurt more than he could articulate. Couldn't Uther tell that for the past two years he had been trying to be the son that he could be proud of again? He thought perhaps his father would take pride in the fact that he fought for the innocent no matter the consequences. However, Arthur was reminded yet again that social status and the family business were the two things that Uther cared about the most.

Arthur tried to tell himself that he shouldn't have been upset, for scenarios similar to this had unfolded before. He did something to upset Uther, in response he lashed out, then Arthur would retreat to his secret place - the pond.

One of the few places that brought him comfort – and that's where he was headed now. About a ten-minute trek, following the faint path, led Arthur to a large pond, which he associated with some of his most fond memories of adventure and innocence. As children, he, Morgana, and Merlin would ride their horses to this little kingdom, spending the afternoon swimming and playing around the grounds. Arthur hadn't visited his private and secluded "retreat" for the longest of times, and now seemed an appropriate occasion, if there ever was one, to retreat to his secret place of solitude for comfort.

Following the small trail through the thick canopy of trees, he arrived to find his sanctuary in the same state he had left it when he last visited months ago. The small dock and tire swing seemed to be frozen in time, looking as new as when his father surprised him with putting it up thirteen years ago. The familiar red cardinal flowers and yellow swamp candles covered the banks, making the area a worthy landscape for a vivid Monet painting. The scenery continued to captivate Arthur to the same degree on his hundredth visit, as it did his first. In fact, he was so mesmerized that he didn't notice his cigarette was at its end, and burnt his middle finger. Dropping it immediately as he felt it sear into his flesh, he stomped the end out, but pocketed the butt; he wouldn't dare litter this place.

Almost in a trance, Arthur walked out onto the dock, watching the currents from the wind shift the water lilies side to side. A headache began to set in as he took his shoes and socks off, dangling his legs over the dock, and into the water.

The words of his angry and disappointed father ran through his head in a reel. Are you just hell bent on soiling our name? The coloreds know their place, the Jews know theirs; it's high time that you learnt yours!

He tried to push the angry comments out of his head, but the familiar words taunted him. He picked up a nearby stone, throwing it into the water with all the aggression he felt flowing through his veins. Arthur watched a small water lily get crushed on the impact and felt a sense of joy at its destruction. Before he knew it, he was picking up all the stones he could find, crushing the water foliage until he collapsed, exhausted.

Lying on his back, watching the clouds roll in the blue sky, Arthur wondered what his mother would say if she ever heard Uther talk to him the way he did. Arthur always concluded that if his mother had lived, Uther would be a completely different man… as would he.

But in reality his mother was dead, and these were the circumstances he was given. Arthur's mind slowly drifted to his mother's dusty Rosary, which lay in a bedside drawer, the object he felt the most connection to his mother with. It was one of her most prized possessions, passed down in her family for generations… and there it was collecting dust in a forgotten drawer. It took all the mental energy he had to stop thinking of his deceased mother and her neglected prayer beads. He didn't want to feel even more guilt than he already did.


"Gwen, are you going home now?" Morgana approached the maid in the foyer after a tense and lonely dinner with Uther.

"Yes, it's getting late," Gwen replied, shifting her purse to her other shoulder. She looked around to see if anyone was nearby before uttering her next words. "Is Arthur back yet?" she whispered as Morgana took her arm, pulling her to the side.

"No, he's been gone for hours. He probably won't be back until everyone is sleeping… or so he thinks. Uncle usually waits up for him."

Gwen blinked; she hadn't realized that Arthur had been gone so long. She had seen him walking away from the house after she heard the yelling, but she figured he was walking to the stables for a ride, or the tennis courts to take his anger out. "You said Mr. Pendragon usually waits for Arthur… this has happened before?

Morgana nearly laughed. "Yeah, it used to be like clockwork! But, it's been a while since he and Uncle have gotten into a scuffle. They've been getting on quite well lately, until… you know."

Gwen looked away for a moment, feeling guilty and embarrassed; this was all her fault. "His car's still here. Where could he have gone?"

"I have my ideas…" Morgana began, before her attention was caught by a book poking out of the maid's purse. "What's this, then?" she asked plucking it out of Gwen's bag.

"Oh, nothing!" The maid responded a little too quickly, hoping that Morgana wouldn't open it to the front page.

"Arthur was talking about this book, last night." Morgana stated plainly, as she handed it back to Gwen. She had overheard the conversation Arthur had with the chauffer the day before.

"Really?" Gwen unevenly sputtered. "I'll see you tomorrow. I hope Arthur comes back soon and safely."

"Bye Gwen," Morgana said as she watched the maid walk through the front doors, catching up with Alice, who was waiting to take her home.

As Morgana made her way back to the living room, she saw her uncle's chauffer in the corner of her eye, and decided to do something she had meant to last night.

"Clarence," she called, stopping the man in his tracks.

"Evening Miss," he said tipping his small cap.

"Good evening to you as well." Morgana closed the space between them, bringing her voice to a quiet hush, which unnerved the tall chauffer. "Now I was down the hall last night, and I couldn't help but over hear your conversation with Arthur."

"Yes ma'am."

"Ah, so … you know that book Arthur sent you to pick up yesterday?"

Clarence loosened his collar nervously. "Of course! I had to go to three stores to get it, and beg the third not to close and let me in for just a minute."

Morgana gave him the most charming smile she could muster. "What was it called then? It couldn't have been for Arthur!" she exclaimed laughing. She hoped the chauffer would understand her train of thought.

"I'm sorry miss, but he was really secretive, told me not to tell anyone. It was a gift, for someone special, I think. I regret that I can't tell you ma'am, truly I do."

Morgana playfully nudged his side with her elbow. "Oh c'mon Clarence, it's just a book."

Clarence's gaze shifted about nervously. "I don't want to get in any trouble, ma'am. Sir told me not—"

"You won't get in any trouble, my lips are sealed. It'll be our secret," she whispered, giving him another smile.

"Oh, okay… alright." Clarence sighed as he fished into his pockets for the slip of paper Arthur had given him yesterday. He handed it to Morgana, without unfolding it.

"Thank you," Morgana immediately turned away with the ball of paper, running up the stairs with it clasped in her hands. When she reached the deserted second floor, Morgana gingerly unfolded the paper. Several times her eyes ran across the two words scribbled on the paper, just to confirm her suspicions. Indeed, her fears proved to be correct; there was no doubt that it was Arthur's messy handwriting. Morgana was too cynical to believe that the relationship between the paper she held and Gwen's obviously new book was just a mere coincidence.

Her mind ran through Arthur's recent suspicious behavior, beginning to connect the dots. Previously, she had convinced herself that she was just reading into things too much... but now she wasn't so sure. As she recalled the disturbing events of recent days, her stomach began to knot in nausea.

She knew how Arthur could be charming and manipulative; she had seen him woo a countless number of pretty girls. A sense of dread washed over her as she considered Arthur's womanizing nature, and Gwen's mild naiveté. She loved her cousin dearly, and valued her friend… but this thing they were getting involved in with each other wouldn't be good for anyone. In that moment, Morgana Pendragon declared to herself that it was her duty to protect the both of them from their own and others' stupidity.

Title Inspired by: "Welcome to My Broken Home" by We Are the Ocean