Arthur.
I cannot hate Arthur the fourth time I meet him, Morgana introducing us shyly. I have heard many things about him from her, of course, and it is all complimentary. They are in lust – that is a given, for two beautiful people – and they are well matched in terms of inheritance.
I cannot hate a boy who brings so much joy to the girl who means more to me day by day. I cannot hate the boy that presents Morgana with a token of his affections, a bouquet of lilies speckled with dots of yellow and orange. I cannot hate Arthur, but I can dislike him. He is the same boy who is quick to judge, the same boy who is spoilt and unruly.
When our gazes meet, his eyes do not widen, and my surprise is not mirrored in his face. "Gwenivere," he says smoothly, like he does not know me. "Nice to meet you." I do not correct him; I like people to call me Gwen. Gwenivere sounds too pretentious, too large a name for little old me. But the way he rolls the 'r' makes it sound more exotic, more like the girl I wish I could be. It is sinful that a boy who is so cruel should have a voice that sends shivers down my spine.
I give him a ghost of a smile and bow my head a little, tucking my hair behind my ear and then looking away. "Nice to meet you too." I do the right thing; I lie.
He takes Morgana's arm, leading her into the restaurant like a gentleman into the restaurant, where he holds the door open for both of us. He does not remember the night that sets my cheeks on fire.
I put aside the memory because Morgana is so happy; she giggles as Arthur tells us an amusing anecdote from the hospital, touches his arm fondly as he gets up to pay the bill. It is little things like that that tell me she is on her way to love.
"So hot," she mouths across the table from me. I just smile, watching him from across the room as he takes a call on his mobile, handing over a matte black card to a waiter, pointing in the direction of our table.
He comes back, apologies falling out his mouth. He kisses her goodbye and heads towards the exit. Morgana pouts and he looks regretful, longing glances thrown over his shoulder as we stay for coffee and he leaves for work.
I see him a few more times after that, mainly at functions or when Morgana and I are hanging out in his father's ridiculously large town house.
Arthur does not notice me. I am another person his girlfriend has charmed, another hazy face on his already too long contact list. We are classified as acquaintances, a friend of a friend. Our relationship is neutral and unassuming.
It is how things should be.
And then one day, things change.
Morgana is busy with charity work and shopping, and apparently, Arthur is a drama queen. "You know he's just got a cold; he's not dying. Ignore what he says and read between the lines. 'On my death bed' translates to 'I have sniffles'. Big baby."
"He's really sick," Merlin tells me. "I wouldn't step foot in that flat unless you paid me. He's such a pain, demanding this and that. And he says he's dying. As if!"
I take pity on Arthur and turn up on his doorstep, armed with cold medicine and the ingredients for chicken soup.
"Ah, Gwenivere." Arthur sniffles into the intercom. He sneezes and lets me in. "Gaius was just here. You just missed him."
I smile. "Morgana sent me. She's sorry she couldn't come."
Arthur just shuffles back to his bedroom. "Not as sorry as her accountant is, I'll bet she's snapping up the new fashions in Paris."
I don't say anything in reply, I just busy myself with making soup.
"What are you doing?" Arthur asks over my shoulder.
"Making soup."
He eyes the chicken I pull out of the bag. "Chicken soup."
I smile. "Got in one. Why don't you go and get some rest and I'll wake you up when it's done?"
He smiles brightly, then tries to cough up a lung. "Sure. Thanks."
He is like an angel when he sleeps. He is pallid and red nosed, but it is like he cannot belong on this mortal plane. He is too angular, too peaceful to inhibit a world rife with unfairness.
I stroke his hair, say words I dare not when he is awake. "You're not going to die Arthur," I say, a smile on my face. It fades and I continue, "You will be a great man Arthur. I know it. One day, you're going to be CEO and you have to promise me something, okay? Promise me you're not going to be your father. Promise me that the Pendragon I imagine - a fair and just one, one I will be proud to be a part of - will come. I will hold you to that promise."
Arthur stirs. That's how I know he is alright.
That is the beginning. It is not the end.
On another day, Merlin cannot make lunch, because he is on the cusp of some preliminary results and he is eager to analyse them. It is fascinating work, apparently. Even Gaius has forgone a round of golf to be present.
Arthur claims that he has had enough of facts and figures for the day and Merlin will just give him a summary later (that is a command, not a request). I, too, cannot stomach too many chemicals and compounds being thrown around, not after an intense morning of working out a risk management strategy for the new machines being installed.
It is just us for lunch. It is nice. Apparently. "It'll give my two favourite people a chance to really get to know each other!" Morgana says, before a new email message pops up on my computer screen. "I've got an appointment then, so can't make it, sorry sweetie, but you know my nail beds right now really suck." She takes a breath. "Oh and I'd love you forever if you mentioned that link I just sent you to Arthur. I've got shoes that go perfectly with that dress, and Arthur owes me. It's a beautiful dress. I was thinking of wearing it this weekend for that function on Saturday."
"Oh?" I say.
"Yeah. He called me spoilt last night in bed." Morgana exhales, clearly put out by her beloved. "And he hasn't apologised yet." I imagine her pouting, signature ruby lips pressed into an 'o'. "I said sorry last time; it's his turn."
I hear Leon in the background, announcing their successful arrival at their intended destination. Wherever that is (his voice is muffled). "Oh sweetie, have to go, love you."
I tell her I love her too and she hangs up.
"Morgana can't make it then?" Arthur asks me as he plops down across from me, sandwich and a cup of coffee in hand.
"Nah. Manicure calls."
We share a knowing grin.
I open the email, clicking the link and swivelling the laptop screen to face Arthur. "I've got a message for you; this dress is your apology. She's hoping to wear it to that function a Saturday so anytime before then would be great."
Arthur takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as he mulls over the dress taking a mental note of the website, not even batting an eyelash at the extortionate price. "Right. Okay," he says between chews. "Jesus, that's an ugly dress."
I laugh, turning the laptop around to face me again. "It's the fashion. Eighties shoulder pads are very in this season."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "She'd look better without it," he grumbles.
I raise an eyebrow. "As much as you'd like your girlfriend to turn up to functions stark raving naked, I'm sure the other guess wouldn't appreciate it."
He laughs, throwing his head back, like it is the first joke he has ever heard. "Merlin might."
I hide my smile behind a sip of water. I fail miserably. "Merlin likes a lot of things."
Arthur gives me a smile, even though it is a redundant thing to say. I have verbal diarrhoea issues; I speak without thinking. But he smiles at me like I am amusing and almost good company. He smiles like he wants to be here, and not just by default.
"How's your internship going?" Small talk. We have never been in this position before; it has never been the two of us, alone. There is no Morgana, no Merlin to buffer our conversation.
"Great!" I beam, words spilling out, waxing lyrical about the equipment and resources available to a company like Pendragon, how lucky I am, how lucky he is, how lucky we are.
He sits back, a small curve gracing his lips. He seems genuinely interested in my opinions. Of course he is interested in my opinions, I think suddenly, my words slowing to a halt. I am a valued employee. He is used to comments like this, used to sitting through people talking about things he finds mundane. Shame washes over me. I'm boring. That fact has never hit home quite as hard.
"Sorry." I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ears. "I talk too much, I know."
He leans forward. "Don't be, you're interesting." In a special way. "It's interesting," he amends. In a special way.
I read between the lines. Few people say what they mean; Arthur who has grown up in a world of schmoozing and insincere words knows that as well as I do.
"Then what about you?" I challenge. "You know what makes me tick. What makes you tick, Arthur Pendragon? What makes you tick besides Pendragon and saving the world? You can't be all work and no play; I've heard what goes on inside your bedroom."
Arthur laughs, a deep rumbling erupting from his chest. My world suddenly becomes that little bit warmer. "You never cease to surprise me," he says, hand reaching forward to fiddle with his sandwich box. "Just when I think I've got you figured out, you go and say something like that."
I blush. "Sorry." Morgana has a big mouth. She tells me about her sex life. It is too much information. Much too much information. "Verbal diarrhoea. Yeah."
There is a pause, but it is not as awkward as some I have had. It is as comfortable as it can be between two almost strangers.
It is nice.
With Merlin caught up in the fascinating world that is research and Morgana becoming more and more involved with her fundraising, it becomes just the two of us for lunch more and more often.
Morgana and Arthur rant to me and Merlin. Morgana moans that Arthur is still a child, still irresponsible. It is true. Merlin moans Arthur moans too much. I am not surprised. Arthur moans Morgana is spoilt.
It is true.
Morgana is spoilt, but it is in a good way. She is the epitome of a philanthropist; a person who will spend money like water whether it be on a good cause, or on good shoes. She is a benefactor of many good causes, a person who is compassionate. She, unlike Uther, cares.
I think Morgana is a good influence in Arthur. She is a female figure in his life that reins him in, keeps him from becoming too much like Uther.
He takes things for granted, acts in a way that speaks volumes about who he is and where he comes from. His behaviour is no longer intolerable, it is only occasionally grating.
I tell him off for not cleaning up after himself in the company canteen. It is unfair to the kitchen staff. Besides, there are signs everywhere telling you to pick up after yourself. "Don't be ridiculous Gwenivere," he says. "That's what other people are paid for." I stiffen, and he digs himself a deeper hole. "I don't ask you to work out company profits do I?"
"You ask for a lot," I bite out, sweeping the remnants of his sandwich packaging onto my tray, dumping it into the bin. Arthur has an uncanny ability to fool people into tolerating him and then making them feel so utterly stupid for feeling that way. First impressions are important, and with Arthur, they are not wrong. Leopards do not change their spots, and pricks like Arthur does not change overnight.
"Gwen, you didn't have to do that; I already told you the staff here do that kind of thing," he says as I hurry away from him. I try and hide my scorn. "What? What did I say?"
I can hear Merlin shaking his head beside Arthur.
Sometimes, Arthur has no idea. The difference between us has never been clearer.
He corners me as I am in a staff talk regarding the new protocol for systems validation. "Hi, everyone. Glad to see you're all doing your...engineering thing." He clears his throat uncomfortably, as mouths unhinge at the very presence of Arthur Pendragon – the Arthur Pendragon – in this very room. He cranes his neck around the room and I sink lower in my seat. I do not know this man.
"Ah, Gwenivere, just the person I was looking for. Could I just talk to you, about a very important matter?"
Heads practically dislocate to swivel round and stare gapingly at me. I unfold myself in my seat. "Sure." I have no choice. He is Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Pendragon. Hear him roar.
I follow him outside the door, wondering what has happened. The second he clicks the door behind us, plaster and brick separating us between the buzzing of engineers in meeting room twenty three and utter silence in the hallway, I blurt it out. "Is it Morgana? Is she okay? Is it Merlin, is he okay?"
Arthur regards me with a small smile. "No. It's neither of them. Nothing like that." He straightens up, hands petulantly on his hips. He looks about five. I imagine that this is what his son will look like. It is a sweet thought.
He comes out with it, eager to know. "Why d'you leave at lunch?"
Oh. It's not Morgana or Merlin, it's that. "It's nothing. It's fine." I offer him a smile, trying to get off the topic quickly. He does not need to know what I really think; he is my boss.
"Gwenivere," he starts to say but I am already down the hall, trying to escape to a place he cannot follow me; the ladies room. "Gwenivere!"
I slow down and turn. "Yes Dr Pendragon?"
Arthur rolls his eyes at the formal address, but says nothing, takes large strides towards me instead. "I am sorry for whatever it is I have said that has offended you. I did not mean to." It is the worst apology I have ever heard, but it is an apology and Arthur Pendragon is not used to apologising. It is a step in the right direction.
So, I give him a smile and all is forgiven.
I am not the kind to hold grudges.
He is confusing. Arthur is a person who is still growing, as far as I am concerned. He is a child on the brink of adulthood. I am privy to moments, fleeting glimpses, of the majestic man he could be and the petulant child he still is. I hold out hope, because I am the kind that is hopeful.
Disaster strikes in August, and the world is in turmoil. Uther Pendragon has always been ruthless, uncompromising; in the face of travesty he is more so. We do not believe such heartlessness possible, until he lays off lots of people. Redundancy is a word no one likes, especially not during times when the prices of everything are soaring.
Uther does not listen to reason. He does not compromise or show remorse. He just releases statements to the press and remains in his security laden town house, shielded from life. Uther Pendragon is a man so far removed from what it is like to be normal; he has forgotten how to be human.
When he is about to lay off the second lot of people - all in the name of maintaining his profits - Morgana and I step in. I have been quiet until this point, but people's lives are at stake. I will not stand helplessly at the side and see people who have done no wrong suffer.
Merlin is on our side; Gaius is in the firing line.
Overnight, the three of us become vigilantes, against the evil that is Uther. Arthur does not speak out against his father; not directly anyway. He shows mercy, delaying Uther's orders to cut whoever is deemed not necessary. His compassion comes as a surprise. I see him in his office, weighed down by paperwork, but his mind is a million miles away. His fingers drum holes into the mahogany, his foot taps beats into the plush carpet.
So I knock on his office door, and I say thank you on the behalf of those people who will never know what he has sacrificed for them. Or how he feels right now.
I tap lightly, poking my head in. "Busy?" He is not busy. His secretary told me so.
"Gwenivere!" He does a double take, before his memory drifts to this morning. I have lost him to a world where he wallows in self pity.
I place a hand on his arm, offering him comfort. "Thank you. For trying. I saw what you did today," I say to his confused face. "Those people you told you were going to ask your father to reconsider – they owe you."
"Don't be grateful. I failed, didn't I?" He is bitter, a man who has been asked to commit an act that goes against what he believes, against the core of what he is made of. Arthur is stuck between a rock and a very hard place.
"It doesn't matter. Everyone knows you tried, and that is all that matters." It is the effort that counts. The lie is half true.
Arthur looks pensive, his eyes are stormy. He is re-evaluating what he knows, what he thinks he knows. "Maybe he's right. One day I'm going to be CEO. I cannot sympathise and be a businessman. It doesn't work like that." He thinks that business is all about hard decisions; he is only seeing the world through Uther's eyes, and not the other side.
"You know that's not true. You've a kind heart Arthur. That is not a weakness. Don't change, not for anyone." My words come out stilted, nothing like the eloquent Morgana or wordy Uther. My words are weak, but the message that lies beneath is strong.
Arthur just looks at me from across the desk. He is trying to see what I see, but he cannot. Arthur has been many things. He is no longer self important. He is doubting himself, but it is okay. I have enough belief in him for the both of us. "We'll be fine Arthur."
He frowns as he picks up his vibrating pager on the desk. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I have faith in you. We all do." It is the truth.
Arthur grows in that month. I no longer see that petulant child in him, I see a man ten times worthy of filling Uther's shoes. He is someone who will lead Pendragon to a brighter future. It is a future I look forward to.
Morgana also works hard that month. They are quite the power couple, typing away on their laptops, frantically clicking away on their Blackberries. Morgana becomes more and more absent; Arthur spends more and more time at work.
Merlin spends all his time aiding Arthur. Pendragon is his future too.
Everyone is growing, changing. It is just I who is left behind.
The change in Morgana is clear. She spends her time campaigning, and her mind is always occupied. There are things she does not want me to know, things that she does not want Arthur to know. He knows when she is lying, but he does not know the real reason why. Arthur is like his father; when it comes to Morgana, he turns a blind eye. They think it their duty to protect her. She thinks it is her duty to destroy them.
I wait for a happy ending, where Morgana and Arthur are free of their unwanted obligations, are free of the ridiculous expectations placed upon their heads, expectations that do not confer with who they are and what they really want.
It is not a betrayal for me to wish them apart. They are happier apart. Even Merlin agrees, following Arthur who excuses himself stiffly to go back to work, half of Morgana's scalding mocha latte dripping from his silk tie, making his shirt stick to his skin.
Morgana feels like Arthur ties her down to a destiny she does not want. She feels trapped in the relationship, confined by her loyalty to Gaius, stifled by Uther's paternal feelings towards her. She and Arthur have little arguments as first, over insignificant things that escalate into days of sullen looks and slamming doors.
When Merlin gets sent away on a business trip, to some convention or another, he arranges a stint for me to become Arthur's assistant. It is an opportunity too great to refuse, an honour even. Merlin trusts me to take his place.
The truth is that there is no other alternative. Those that are qualified are untrustworthy, in Merlin's eyes; none of them will last the week. Arthur is a tyrant. But, unlike the potential assistants, I know Arthur is not unreasonable. Merlin thinks that stands me in better stead than other potential people.
Arthur does not think I am up to scratch. I do not blame him. I am inexperienced, but I try. He is demanding, sometimes unreasonably so. Like his father, he keeps work and life very separate; I am not his girlfriends' friend, I am his assistant. I grit my teeth and bear it, mainly because of the bonus I will be getting as a result of this moonlighting.
By the end of the week, I am tired, and I am overworked. "Why don't you get yourself a coffee Gwenivere, you're dead on your feet." Arthur takes the coffee out of my hand, sipping it as he looks over the reports for last month.
Word spill out of my mouth before my brain can filter them. "I did. You're drinking it."
There is silence as Arthur looks up, holding the aforementioned coffee. "Why didn't you say something?"
The words stumble out of their own accord. Everything I have felt this past week unfurls itself and launches itself from the tip of my tongue. "How could I? You're Arthur Pendragon." He just stares at me, and I plough on. It is like a weight has been lifted, like for once, the differences between us have fallen away. It is almost like we are equals, like I am just a girl and he is just a boy. It has not been like that since we first met. "Besides, you didn't give me the chance; you just assumed the coffee was yours."
The outburst is an overreaction, but Arthur and I both realise that this goes beyond the coffee. it is not even about the coffee; it is about him, his behaviour.
He is ashamed, I know, because he looks away. "Well how am I supposed to know if you don't tell me?"
"You shouldn't need to be told to think of someone other than yourself, you're not a child." My honesty is brutal, but it is needed. I do not think anyone bar Morgana has the guts to speak to Arthur this frankly. My hearts hammers, awaiting his retaliation. You do not speak to a Pendragon like this. It is out of order, I am overstepping my boundaries. It is dangerous ground to tread.
Arthur's lips press together into a thin line. "Is there anything else you'd like to say to me?" I look away. "Please, I'd like to hear it. If there's something you want to say to me, don't let me stop you."
He stares me down, daring me to speak. I will not be intimidated. I square my shoulders, and I continue. He is just a boy. I can speak my mind. "You don't have any idea, do you?"
"About what?"
The truth sets itself free from my mouth. "About how rude and arrogant you can be!" I cannot stop, not now that I have gotten this far. "I am trying my hardest. I know you are more accustomed to more efficient assistants, assistants that have come with years of experiences, but I am trying and that should count for something. You behave like a prince and expect me to wait on you like a servant! Would it even kill you to say 'please' and 'thank you' once in awhile?" I pause to take a breath and realise exactly who it is I am talking to. "Dr Pendragon."
"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Arthur enquires his voice gravelly.
"No, I think that's it." I mumble to my feet.
There is silence once again. It stifles the air in the office, makes it hard to breathe. I dare not look up.
He finally clears his throat. "You're right. You're doing me a favour, and I have behaved appallingly."
I look up, surprise gracing my face. He is clearly remorseful. I feel bad. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad," I say looking remorseful too.
Arthur smirks, all traces of guilt gone. "Oh really?"
I can't help it. I smile a little too. "Well, perhaps a little," I admit shyly.
He is serious once again. He is ashamed for his behaviour; I have shamed him. "There's no excuse. I'll make it up to you. Tonight, I will make dinner for you." My mouth flaps open and closed at this bewildering turn of events. Arthur pushes me gently towards the door. "Take the rest of the day off. I've heard I can be rude and arrogant. You deserve a break." His words are not a jab, they are a tease. He flashes me a lopsided grin.
I don't return it because I am still in shock. "You're going to cook me dinner?"
"I most certainly am. Now, go for a walk and do whatever it is girls' do at this time of the evening." He pulls on his jacket, simultaneously compiling a stack of papers for him to look over at home.
"That will be nice." I say in a faraway voice. I am not sure Arthur knows how to cook dinner, and I'm not sure if burnt toast counts.
Arthur closes the door. "I'll see you at my flat, around eightish? Dinner will be ready by then."
How can I refuse a chance to see Arthur Pendragon cooking?
When I arrive, Arthur looks a little flustered but still as dashing as usual. "Guinevere . . . perfect timing."
I smile a little at his lie, accepting the glass of wine he offers, let him take my coat and lead me to the kitchen. His penthouse apartment is lavish, gleaming even. The kitchen is a mess, but that is a given. Arthur's forte is not housekeeping.
He pulls out the seat for me. It is nice to know that chivalry is not yet dead. "Thank you."
Dinner is delicious, almost as good as the posh restaurant down the road, and the conversation is entertaining. I will this night to drag on, for more people to join us to witness what kind of a person Arthur can be. He is more relaxed, more endearing, more like what a CEO of Pendragon should be.
The nigth is reminiscent of when we first met. It is like in each other's company, we are transported a million miles away to a place that only we know of. We inhabit a different sphere, a different plane, where time ceases to exist, where nothing else matters except this night and each other.
"So . . . do I have any more annoying habits Morgana has told you about?"
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. "No, none."
I am a bad liar, and Arthur can read people well. "There's something else isn't there? What is it?"
I shake my head, but he coaxes it out of me. "Well, the truth is, you snore."
He doesn't take the news like a man. "I do not snore!"
His denial is side splitting. "You do. First night Morgana stayed over at yours, she phoned me up just so she'd have a witness. I thought a pig had got into your house."
Arthur splutters a little, putting his wine glass down with a little more force than necessary. "So, now I'm a pig. Thank you Guinevere."
I backtrack. "I just meant you sound like a pig." Whoops.
Arthur's reaction is priceless. I giggle and bit my lip. The wine is getting to me, I think. "I think I better stop talking."
I get up to collect the plates, because Arthur has done the cooking and therefore it's only fair that I do the washing up, but Arthur stops me. "I'll do that." He takes the plate from me, setting it down on the counter, moving back towards the table.
Our arms brush and the tingles start. "Thank you, for tonight," I say my eyes lidded and my voice hushed.
"You're welcome." He is hovering above, close enough to reach out and touch. He is looking at me like he has never seen me before, like I am his world. He is looking at me in a way I want to be look at.
His lips press against mine, sealing our fate. It is not something wrong to do. Something that sets my heart racing like this cannot be wrong, cannot harm anyone. He pulls me closer and we leave the world behind. We are no longer on an alternate plane, we are soaring, floating. We are doing something miraculous, something profound.
My future flashes behind my eyelids. I see children, and happiness and Arthur. It is a fate that I cannot have, but a fate I wish for.
He pulls away, and I see the guilt that lies in his eyes. We have committed the ultimate sin, have kissed a Judas kiss, have betrayed a girl we love and swore to forever protect. She does not know, and yet it is still harm, still a foul. "You should go," he says.
I leave. I leave behind my dreams, my children, my happiness. I leave Arthur behind.
Morgana is worth it.
