I don't own Merlin, or Portal, or the Tron Lightcycle (I want one, sooo bad) or the Portal Gun, though I am going to find a way to do what Arthur did with them. I also do not own Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows, though I borrowed a quote.
Interesting note for the British and other non-Americans, after my lovely and wonderful beta, EachPeachPearPlum, brought this to my attention: after much surveying of the populous of my school and contemplation of sitting rooms in the area, there is a difference between a sofa and a couch. Couches are set in living rooms, are wide, comfortable, and you're allowed to have food on them. Sofas are for sitting rooms- they're the ones that people bring in when Great-Aunt Garnet comes to visit, are smaller, and are extremely uncomfortable.
Paradise is by Coldplay.
/
The sleek 1941 Packard Super 8 180 seemed to glide through traffic, its occupants all silently staring out the windows. Will glanced in the rearview mirror to see Kieran huddled against Mordred, a miniature rosebush on his lap, and Mordred's arm around him, head resting under Mordred's chin. He looked safe, calmer than he had in quite a while, and Will nodded to himself, satisfied with this turn of events. Turning back around, he surveyed the road ahead. They'd already left the city behind, and were passing through stages of forest, suburb, and open land.
It was hard to believe that it was barely four in the afternoon. The clouds had darkened, sending it to an almost twilight stage of night, something that Will did not like. He was contemplating the clouds and wondering why it was always raining when the snarling roar of an engine announced its presence behind him. Glancing in the mirror, he jolted at the sight. Blinking a few times, he rubbed his eyes and then stared harder.
"…The Lightcycle is following us."
Kieran moved slightly. "What?"
"The Lightcycle. From Tron. It's right there. Glowing blue. There's a guy in a dragon helmet sitting on i- oh man."
With a sleek jhwaoooom the bike passed them, revealing that the rider not only had one scary looking helmet, he also had a sword strapped to his back and happened to be one Merlin Emrys. The helmet turned, and Will felt Merlin grin at them before accelerating away.
Will just stared. The driver just grinned.
"Where the hell did he get money for a street legal Lightcycle?"
/
The Pendragon estate of Camelot was situated on 150 acres of wooded, hilled, gardened, and walled land about sixteen miles outside of the city. It was constantly mistaken by visitors for a national park or some such, perhaps a game reserve. This was because the entire place had five foot thick walls that stood eight feet tall tipped with shards of glass and wrought iron spikes. The solitary entrance was a wrought iron gate with a specially put together backing of solid steel. Though the gate appeared delicate from the front, it was in fact nearly nine inches of tightly twined together metal thick.
Parked outside the gate were the Lightcycle and a Desoto. Merlin had taken his helmet off, and was reclining against the hood of the Desoto with Gwaine's arm casually (if possessively) around his waist when the Packard pulled up. Will rolled down the window.
"When did you join the one percent?" He demanded over the rumble of the motor. Merlin grinned, pulling away from Gwaine to go over and lean against the door.
"It's on loan from Arthur. He saw it in the film and just about had a coronary trying to contact someone to build him a replica." Merlin glanced at the bike, grinning rather smugly. "And I'd be lying if I told you that it wasn't the coolest thing in the world I've ever ridden."
With him a little closer, Will could get a proper look at his ex's clothing. He whistled. "How'd you make it out of the house without him throwing a fit?"
Merlin kept grinning. "It took a bit. And some, shall we say, persuasion."
Rather than going for chaps, he'd somehow managed to pour himself into black leather pants, put on knee high combat boots over that, and then had a black tee, and high collared black leather jacket with a red Chinese dragon embroidered on the back. He'd also invested in gauntlets, gloves with that went up to his elbow and were adorned with three flat buckles. Will scowled, feeling inordinately jealous. Merlin just wiggled his fingers in a slightly amused wave and went over to the gate to press a small, orange button.
There was a crackle, and a booming voice from the middle of nowhere demanded, "WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER?!"
Merlin grinned as the group all jumped, and drawled, "Hello, Carl. It's Merlin, and some guests. We're here for a bit of an extended stay."
There was a huff, creating more static. "I knooow that, seeing as we have cameras installed. I've just always wanted to say that to you. You're the only one that plays along. Mr. Pendragon just flips me off, you know. Such a rude guy when he wants to be, but so freaking awesome at the same time. Absolute conundrum. So, you free for a couple drinks later or is His Highness going to throw a fit?"
The gate began creaking open.
"His Highness might, and my man most definitely will. Thanks for thinking of me though, Carl."
"De nada. And if your man is that hunk of good looking next to you, you definitely got a better deal than I did." The static crackled and the gate opened all the way. Merlin hopped back onto the Lightcycle as a grinning Gwaine returned to the Fireflite, and the entourage entered the gate.
They'd gone maybe half an acre through what seemed to be a small forest before the Lightcycle hit its brakes. The others followed suit, slowing to a stop. Will peered out the window. Merlin seemed to be talking to the ground, and Gwaine was making frantic moves in the front of the Desoto. Merlin turned around and called something to him, and Gwaine stopped his freaking out.
"What's going on?"
The driver leaned back in his seat. "The guards have to check over the vehicles. Mr. Emrys, Mr. Noble, and Mr. Arthmael should be fine, seeing as they work for Mr. Pendragon, but he hasn't uploaded you or Mr. Gonzales into the employee system yet, so they'll be a bit more curious."
"Guards?"
There was a tapping noise, and the driver smirked at him, pushing open the door.
A small, white, oval-esque robot with a solitary red eye hopped up onto the drivers lap.
Dee-dee-dee-deet!
Will felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and salute in terror as the small white robot stared at him.
"That," he said slowly, "Is not a guard. That is a turret."
The turret's 'eye' seemed to blink, and Will got the feeling that if it had had a head, it would have tilted it, considering him.
"Hello?" The machine spoke in fake, mechanical tones. "Hello?"
Will stared. "Hi," he said finally, resisting the urge to bail out of the car. The turret seemed to consider this, shifting slightly on the drivers lap. It turned and looked in the back of the car at the two wide eyed men, and then returned its attention to Will.
"I'm different," the turret informed him, before turning around and jumping back out of the car. The driver shut the door and looked at him, grinning.
Silence reigned supreme, and then Will said, in an attempt at casual, "So, Mr. Pendragon's a bit of a gamer?"
"You could put it like that, yeah. And the turret's are operational- they fire bullets and have little cameras in their eyes that some guys watch from up in the house. They mostly just patrol the borders, but they've been known to come up closer to the house, and the turret wives live there."
"Turret wives?"
"Really fat ones. They're mostly watchers, but they're still totally capable of shooting the ever loving hell out of anything that's a threat. There's also an operational set of Daleks that patrol down by the horse arena."
The Lightcycle started back up, the neon blue glow casting weird shadows through the trees, and they returned to their journey. Will watched as the turrets scuttled into the trees, and shivered. The drive was long and twisted back and forth. Trees of varying varieties brushed past them, their branches forming a sort of arch over the road, before suddenly opening into a circular drive with an enormous five-leveled fountain, and one of the most beautiful houses Will had ever seen.
The three in the Packard all gasped as the driver grinned, and craned forward to get a better look.
Camelot was enormous. A set of curved stairs, one on each side, led up to the huge French front doors. The entire place was gleaming white, four sparkling, shimmering stories high, and stretched longer than a city block. Will doubted that any of their jaws were ever going to rehinge themselves. Windows were flung open, as well as double doors that lead onto balconies, revealing flowing white curtains that billowed out into the air. Some of the balconies conjoined, and maids in black and white were fluffing out sheets and such on some of the Eastern wing balconies. The roof was a dazzling blue metal that sparkled in the sunlight. There was a circular window that centered above the door, stained glass that picked out the Pendragon Crest, and as Will watched in amazement, a bevy of footmen in what appeared to be tuxedos threw open the door and flocked towards Merlin, who was climbing off the Lightcycle.
The driver nodded at them. "Merlin grew up here and was kind of expected to marry Arthur, so he'll probably be treated either like glass or royalty. Expect to be fawned over, alright?"
The three nodded dumbly, all staring in stupefied awe.
Kieran was the first to regain his voice, whispering, "I want to live in a place like this someday. A tiny version of this. With gardens, and naked statues. And horses. And dogs. I bet the kitchen is huge."
"Oh, it is, sir," the driver said cheerfully, killing the engine. "Now, prepare for the flock to descend. Don't worry about your things, they'll be taken to a room in the East Wing before you sort them. That's where guests stay."
"Then who on Earth stays in the West side?" Mordred demanded, eyes still wide and startled. He'd been to the Forbidden Palace, yes, he'd seen all of the beauties and majesties that China had been willing to show him, but this took the cake. He'd never imagined this…this palace barely 20 minutes from the city.
"Ah…about that-"
The doors were pulled open, and the trio stared as three footmen all beamed at them and began to talk rapidly, inviting them in, telling them where to go – "just up the stairs on your right and in the doors, the others will direct you from there, Mr. Smithson, Mr. Arthmael, Senor Gonzales-" "Please, it's just mister or Kieran, we're not in Spain-" "Of course, Senor"- and grabbing things from their hands and handing them off to others. Will firmly retained control of his bag though, and Mordred his violin. The two exchanged wide eyed looks over Kieran's head before being shuttled towards the stairs. They were herded up the steps, baffled, and watched as Merlin was ushered up the left stairs. He looked totally in control, and his helmet was being carried by a kid who was probably only 14. The kid looked like he'd received the best birthday gift ever.
Gwaine looked about as hassled as they did though, which was mildly reassuring up until they walked through the doors.
/
Arthur was somehow unsurprised at the expressions on the faces of his guests when they came into the west parlor. Looking up from his book, he smiled. "You made it." The group was a bit startled looking, and he was delighted to see that Mordred had an arm brushing up against Kieran's. The Spaniard looked much better than he'd been before, and much more relaxed. Gwaine looked like he'd been steamrollered, and Merlin just looked smug. The last one, the one in the very fake leather coat, had to be Will, and had eyes that were positively huge.
Thus, he was the one who had never had the dubious pleasure of being startled out of his wits by the décor. As Arthur watched, the man's eyes roamed around the room. They finally landed on him, and Arthur blinked as the brilliant eyes zoomed in on him with the force of a small hurricane. "You!"
Arthur blinked, taken aback. Most people didn't start pointing fingers until the lawyers came to play.
"You have a series of sketches hanging in your hallway. Sketches that, unless my miserably jealous eyes have deceived me, were done by one Leonardo da Vinci. How?! I thought they were all in collections. Beautiful work though, his sketching of bone is exquisite, but that is entirely beyond the point. You're aware of what those would get at auction, yes? Are they in proper condition? Are they stabilized? Are they routinely checked for damage?"
Arthur just stared. "Um…yes?"
"Good." Will nodded approvingly, and then took in the rest of the room as Merlin herded the lot towards the couches.
Arthur had to admit, the entire place was a bit over the top. Most of the Camelot décor had been based on the interior of Buckingham Palace and the Palace of Versailles, so gold Rocco was everywhere. This particular parlor had a set of paintings hung carefully about the walls, and one wall was mostly windows covered by golden satin curtains that blew faintly in the wind. A set of French doors led out to the wide veranda and stone porches, though the curtains had been carefully drawn to keep all but the most necessary sunlight out. The seating was arranged around a long, glass topped coffee table: one loveseat, covered in a hideous blue and gold pattern, one overstuffed, high-backed armchair, one fainting couch that Arthur was currently stretched out on, and a longer sofa in the same ugly blue and gold as the loveseat.
Mordred and Kieran took the loveseat immediately, Mordred waiting before Kieran was seated before sitting himself next to him, looking a bit smug and possessive. Will claimed the huge armchair, immediately taking over the space and subtly daring anyone to try and remove him from it. Merlin and Gwaine both flopped onto the sofa, Merlin looking totally at home, Gwaine just looking tired and mildly annoyed. Arthur didn't miss the way his head of PR had scrunched closer to Merlin, as if he just want to reach over and cling, but wasn't about to be that "forward" in public.
Arthur set his book on the table and sat up.
"So. This is everyone?"
Merlin nodded, yawning behind a hand. "Oh, and Will, this is Arthur. Arthur, Will. Will is going to be one of the new Pages."
"Mm." Arthur stretched, and then frowned, looking at the door. "Odd…"
"What?"
"Oh, they've normally got tea up here before anyone can even get through the gate…"
At that precise moment, the door from the hallway opened and one of the footmen came in. Scurrying over, he bowed slightly and said, "The butler's gathering tea, sir. He just got back from the stables. Mr. Gherei didn't want to leave, and he had to do some convincing."
Arthur nodded. "Alright. Thank you, Gerald."
"Aye sir."
Gerald scuttled back out the door and Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"What was that about Gherei? I thought that he was an excellent trainer." Merlin's voice cut through the faint headache, and Arthur relaxed into the couch.
"Oh, he was, Merlin. He just missed the memo that I don't allow whips or crops of any kind here, and tested one out on one of the boys."
He watched as Merlin went stiff with rage and shock. "What?"
Satisfied that he now had directed Merlin's attention to him and not on Gwaine's hand, which was resting a bit too high on Merlin's leg (Arthur was many things, and wasn't ashamed to admit that jealous was sometimes one of them), he launched into the story. All the while that he yammered on, he kept an eye on the wall where the carefully concealed butler's entrance was. Where was he? It never took the man this long to change- even when blood stains happened to dot his clothing, he was always fast with the cleaning and changing thing.
Arthur had just about finished when a section of the wall pushed away and revealed his butler, carefully carrying a tray laden with a tea service and his signature shotgun over his shoulder.
"There you are, Geraint!"
/
No.
No no no no no way was this possible.
Will felt his whole body stiffen, and watched in mild horror as Kieran's eyes flicked to him, eyebrows rising almost imperceptibly.
Long, graceful legs came into view, followed by a white shirt and black vested torso, oddly crossed by a leather strap that hooked onto a pump action shotgun currently resting against his back with easy familiarity. Hands that Will was well aware of being surprisingly talented and tender gripped an ornate tray, easily balancing the plethora of cups, saucers, pots, and silverware on it. And then…
Yep.
No point denying it.
Geraint Chase was Arthur Pendragon's butler, and Will would be lying through his teeth if the said he looked anything other than damn fine in his uniform.
Chase caught sight of him, and their eyes connected. There was the briefest flash of surprise under a mask of impassivity, and the tray shook for just a half a second. Will wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it, but he had been, and now they were both very aware of each other. Well, well, well…
"Everyone, this is Geraint Chase, the butler." Arthur had dragged himself upright with surprising grace, and accepted a silently proffered cup of tea. "We'd be lost without him, isn't that right, Merlin?"
"Very true."
Chase dipped his head, and then served Merlin. Will watched like a hawk, analyzing what he could. Arthur, then Merlin, that was simple enough. Arthur was the head of the house, his loyalties lay with him. Merlin had lived here, and been part of Arthur's life for a long time, so he might be biased. Who next, who next… ah. Gwaine, then, probably because he was important to Merlin and of a high rank in the company, then Mordred, who also had a relatively important part in the company… Kieran, or himself?
Himself, it seemed. How interesting to see that he ranked above Kieran, who had been sitting right next to Mordred and would have been easier to serve. He was a bit flattered, honestly.
Will accepted the cup with an inclined head and murmured thanks, carefully noting Chase's body language. He had managed to somehow lower himself below Will's head, not an easy feat for someone so ridiculously tall, and his whole body screamed of submissiveness.
Hmmm…
Kieran took his tea with a smile and a cheerful "Thank you" that had Chase looking marginally happier than before. This all done, he soundlessly moved to stand behind Arthur, staring directly at Will.
Will reclined, neatly draping one leg over the other and smirking, looking straight into Chase's eyes and sipping his tea with all the self-control he had. This could become a very good situation for him- Chase must have influence of some kind over Arthur, and that wasn't something to take lightly. Chase shifted slightly, the faintest hint of a blush hitting his cheekbones. Will's smirk widened before he demurely lowered his eyes.
Merlin began explaining the attack with input from Mordred, who had somehow managed to get even closer to Kieran, who wasn't complaining in the slightest. Will watched as Gwaine sank back into the couch, sipping his tea with his eyes at half-mast and clearly content to let Merlin explain things. He didn't blame him- the man looked more exhausted than before, and his hair had escaped its ponytail a few minutes ago when they were coming down through the main hall.
As he was studying the room, there was a soft click, and all of them jolted, hypersensitive to noise. Mordred half rose, Gwaine reached for his gun, and Chase already had the shotgun up and aimed. Arthur just turned to look at the door.
Will's heart froze.
A tiny boy about four years old peaked into the room, wide blue eyes framed by shaggy black hair. Chase relaxed, lowering the gun back to its original position, and the rest sank back into calm, smiling at the little kid.
Will stood up, and the boy caught sight of him. With a squeal of delight, the kid ran in and hugged Will's legs.
"Willlllll!"
Will scooped the boy up, heart in his throat. "Hello, Pierre. Where's your maman?"
Pierre considered, and then shrugged, beaming and clinging to Will.
Will turned to face Arthur, trying to keep himself as calm as possible. "Mr. Pendragon," he said quietly, letting the boy cuddle his neck. "I didn't figure you for a kidnapper, so please explain yourself before I make a break for the door or find something to beat your head in with. This is, after all, my godchild, and I would dearly like to know what he's doing here."
Arthur looked taken aback, and looked over at Merlin. "You didn't tell him?"
Merlin shook his head. Arthur rolled his eyes and stood up, beckoning Will towards him. "Let me show you something."
Will cautiously followed, along with the rest of the group to the wall of windows. Chase pulled back the curtains, and Will's eyebrows shot up.
The room's door opened out onto a wide stone porch vaguely similar to the one at Powerscourt, with a stretch that ended before the edge of the house on both sides, ringed with a high, solid stone wall. The center of the porch was circular, pushing out farther than its veranda-esque counterparts, and had elegant, flowering plants draping along the sides of its curved walls. A wide stair ran down to a long pool, which had a statue of a rearing Pegasus stuck in it. Chairs, tables, and porch swings had been set out, and groups of tired looking women sat in the lot of them, talking quietly and enjoying the weather, which had returned to sunshine. A few children were racing each other up and down the steps.
"After a spectacular misstep on my part in my younger years," Arthur said quietly, looking out at the people, "I had to perform some community service. The judge, who didn't particularly like me, told me that I could either help at the sewage treatment plant, or the coroners' office. I chose the coroner. While I was there, serving for just a month, nine women came in for autopsies. All of them had been battered beyond belief by people they loved. Only two of the people who killed them were put away, both of them husbands."
Will stared out at the women, and noticed that most of them had bruises. A few had casts. All had the beaten down, worn-thin look of someone abused for too long.
"You run a shelter," Kieran said quietly, coming closer to peer through the window.
"Underground. Quietly. If they can make it here, they live free of charge, and I help get them on their feet and in jobs, normally for me, in some part of the world." Arthur nodded at Pierre. "His mother came in about three weeks ago."
Will shivered. "Did she have two girls with her?"
Arthur nodded. "She should be outsi-"
"Pierre!"
The group turned to see a frazzled woman with a mane of curly brown hair hurry into the room, eyes wide. She froze when she saw the group, eyes darting back and forth. Arthur smiled at her, and Will grinned.
"Hi, Marcella."
Marcella Dubois stared at him, jaw dropped in surprise. "William?"
"Maman!" Pierre began to squirm, and Will set him down. He ran over to his mother, who scooped him up, scolding nervously in French. She cautiously came over, switching to English to let out a stream of apologies to Arthur for interrupting. Arthur waved them off, and she attacked Will, kissing both cheeks and telling him all about how she had left her husband, Jakob, for good, that rat, and how he'd attacked Suzette and Leah, and Suzette had gotten a hold of the carving knife and cut his Achilles tendon and it was so good to see him, she was certain he'd been eaten by the cannibal doctor and that was why she hadn't looked for him (Will had stayed with them before- he had been dragged off the streets spontaneously to be a witness to her and Jakob's wedding, and had somehow become the godfather of their third child) and wasn't this the boy who'd been attacked – here she changed tack and pulled Kieran into a crushing hug, air-kissing both cheeks as he automatically did the same – and didn't he look so much better and she was so sorry to hear about the news and was he doing alright, eating alright, had he been staying off the streets and away from the disgusting, vice ridden scum of the earth who'd used him, may-they-rot-forever-in-garbage-and-their-bits-fal l-off, and had Will been treating him alright?
Kieran blinked and just said, "Si." He seemed to have gone into shock.
Marcella seemed pleased by this, hugged Will once more, apologized again for intruding, and whisked herself and her wayward child away.
The room fell silent.
Kieran blinked a few times. "Is she always like that?" he asked absently.
"Nope. That's new." Will considered the doorway Marcella had exited, and smiled. "I like it."
"What was that about a cannibal doctor?" Gwaine asked mildly.
"His name's Gwillem."
"Gwill- William Smithson! You brought me to a cannibal for stitching?!"
"He hasn't eaten anybody in at least five years, okay?"
/
The tour began in earnest then, starting with the basic explanation of the house. There was the Main Hall, which they had entered through, and where the da Vinci sketches hung. It ran through the house, though it was temporarily split by a wide, red carpeted staircase that looked like it had stepped out of Beauty and the Beast, and branched off into the two wings on the second floor. Two huge bronze and steel doors led to each first floor, and were opened wide to show long hallways with red and gold carpeting that led to two different indoor greenhouses. The main hall ended in an enormous ballroom that currently acted as the dining hall for the household. The entire house, staff, guests, and the Pendragon family all ate there every morning at 7:00 AM on the dot, exceptions only for those who didn't want food or were newly arrived (and occasionally the sick, but you had damn well better be on your death bed). Lunch was divided by wings, the Pendragons and their guests eating in the second floor dining room, the West wing eating in its counterpart, and the staff grabbing food on the go. There was a lot to do on the estate. Dinner was served together when the occasion permitted, though it wasn't a firmly together meal like breakfast was.
Each floor held something different. The first floor held all of what Arthur called the Receiving Rooms: parlors and sitting rooms that were opened up for special occasions or diplomatic talks. It also held the greenhouses, which sat on each end, the kitchens, a smaller ballroom, and a few extra bathrooms. The second floor held the family dining rooms, a music room, a weapons room, five studies, and most of the bedrooms. The third floor held an observatory, library, and the physician's suite, as well as the Master bedroom and bath.
This explained, they next walked out onto the porch, where all conversation abruptly stopped and some extremely suspicious eyes latched onto them. Arthur explained who they were, and tossed in the fact that they were all gayer than pink maypoles in September. The people relaxed, especially when a few spotted Merlin, whom they'd met before.
As they walked down the stairs leading to the pool/pond/fountain thing, Arthur told them that there were currently 25 children, 35 women, and two men staying in the West wing. On the other side, there were eight drivers (who drove both the cars, and the turrets around), 10 footmen, 30 guards (15 inside, 15 out), four cooks, 10 kitchen help, 10 garden workers, 10 hostlers, five repairmen and women, 35 cleaning staff, and obviously one butler. This equaled 123 people on staff, and with the rest of them there, 191 people lived and worked at Camelot. Another four therapists came and went throughout the week to help with the trauma that those being sheltered had suffered. The number had gone down from Uther's time, when nearly 250 people had lived and worked there at any given day. Most of them had been elderly, and had since died. Others had simply moved away, deciding that they didn't want to serve Arthur, who hadn't been the most obedient of people and had been a royal terror when he was younger. This had left the household much smaller, with more concentrated areas of work.
They reached the fountain-pond, where four paths split off from the end. Two wrapped around the house, leading to the Japanese Garden on the West, and the Dutch Tulip Garden on the East. The South-East path led to a large, open meadow where picnics, paintball fights, and martial arts training were held in the summer, as well as a small playground. The South-West path led to a swimming pool, gazebo, and the orchard. Uther, in true Utherian fashion, had decreed that Camelot be more self-sufficient. Thus, there was an orchard of apples, pears, peaches and plums, as well as a large vegetable garden, and a small wheat field.
Past the rectangular fountain-pond, a sloping hill led down to a long fence that stretched across the property with no apparent end in sight.
"What's this place?" Kieran asked as they approached the fence. Not far away, a wide stream intersected the grass, creating a barrier between the top and bottom of the property. Across the fence were rolling hills, lots of grass, and scattered copses of trees.
Arthur just grinned, and Geraint lazily swung over the fence. Striding in a bit, he put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing four note whistle that reverberated harshly.
The group blinked and looked at each other, even as Merlin grinned and approached the fence, leaning on it.
"Wait for it…"
A loud whinny sounded, and Kieran's head snapped to the left just in time to see a multi-colored herd of horses erupt from the trees. The ground rumbled as they ran with full force across the open area, heading for another thick clump of trees. Manes and tails floated serenely in the wind.
"Ohhh…"
An enormous white horse separated from the herd, taking the stream in a single bound and trotting over to butt at Geraint, whickering slightly. Kieran scrambled over the fence, eyes alight, and approached the horse, to whom Geraint was murmuring quietly to and feeding half of an apple he must have filched from somewhere.
"He's lovely."
Geraint positively beamed at him, the first real expression he'd shown all day. "Indeed he is. This is Alexi."
Kieran grinned, reaching down and pulling up some grass. "Clever. He's an Orlov, right?"
Geraint nodded, fishing out another bit of apple and handing it off to Kieran to give to Alexi, who looked affronted that he wasn't getting it directly. "You know horses."
"My father is one of the trainers for the Gaurda Real, and my mother is a trick rider. I know horses, I assure you," Kieran said dryly, before turning his attention to Alexi, who was more than happy to be his new best friend in exchange for the apple. As he munched, Kieran ran his hands over him, marveling out loud at the muscle tone.
The rest of the group had gone over the fence as well, Mordred more reluctantly than the rest. Will hung back as well, clearly spooked by the huge animal. Merlin let out his own whistle, as did Arthur, and two other horses came crashing down the hill. The gelding, an enormous, dark brown Thoroughbred ("Of course," Merlin grumbled good naturedly) named Hengroen was Arthur's personal steed. The other, who ambled more than really crashed, was Merlin's 17th birthday gift from Arthur, a mare named ("Ever so imaginatively, Merlin", Arthur sniped back) Red, due to the fact that she was a Red Appaloosa. They both were highly annoyed when apples failed to appear for them to munch on.
Kieran ran over to Mordred and dragged him over to come and make friends with the horses, despite Mordred's protests that "I belong in the city, where there are cars and they can't attack me or anything. I stand firmly with Sherlock Holmes in this matter."
Kieran's forehead wrinkled, much to the amusement of the rest of the group. "Sherlock Holmes?"
"Horses are dangerous on both ends and crafty in the middle."
Kieran just laughed and made him be friends with Red, who was more than happy to take the proffered grass from Mordred's shaking hand.
/
There was a small bridge farther down the stream that they used to cross. The horses, hoping for more handouts, simply splashed happily through the stream, Alexi occasionally running ahead and rolling exuberantly in the grass before coming back to placidly walk beside Geraint, who had subtly managed to drift closer to Will, who was clinging to Merlin to try and get away from Alexi, who was very curious about this person that his person liked, and Merlin was arm in arm with Gwaine, who was chattering a mile a minute about how much he freaking loved horses OMFG. Kieran was all but skipping, hand in hand with Mordred, who looked paranoid that killer horses would suddenly spring from the trees. Arthur had simply clambered up onto Hengroen and was lazily letting the horse head towards the next stop on the tour, the stables and track.
Kieran looked like he had died and gone to heaven the second the stables came into view. Uther had been a hunting fanatic, and had spared no expense to have his favorite hunter horses living in the lap of luxury. The stables stretched along a long track with two rings, one of grass, one of simple dirt, designed for the racehorses. Other corrals were spread around, a few walkers could be seen, and there was a large and small round pen.
"It's been so long since I've been near stables," he told Arthur happily as Arthur slithered off Hengroen's back. For a Thoroughbred, the horse was incredibly docile.
"Didn't you say something about your father…"
"Si, he's one of the horse trainers for the Royal Guard in Spain. My whole life has revolved around horses." Kieran's smile was dazzlingly bright. "My mother does trick riding half the year in Ireland, which is why we speak Spanish, technically Castilian, English and Irish. The rest of my family is pretty horse involved as well. That's why I got cut off- I love horses, but I really just want to be a chef."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Your father cut you off because you wanted to be a chef?"
"Well, there was also the fact that he caught me making out with my best friend on his bed…"
"That'd do it," Gwaine said, coming up to clap Kieran on the shoulder. "What say we head in, then?"
/
"Currently, there are 20 horses here. The outside guards patrol the perimeter on horseback, even with the turrets out and about. There's ten of them, so they each have a horse, and then there's my father's hunter horse, Peligoso."
Kieran grinned at that. "Dangerous."
Arthur paused in his lecture. "What?"
"The name. That's what it means. 'Dangerous.' It's Portuguese."
"Oh." Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur caught a sight of Geraint trying to lure Alexi over to his box. The horse was having none of it, and the eight hostler-boys in the area were grinning at him, despite the fact that not two hours ago one of them had been beaten badly enough to warrant stitches. He felt pleased at this development, and continued. "Most of them are mixed breed, largely Quarter Horse and Paint mixes and-"
Will raised his hand. "Beg pardon, but what are those, for us poor folk who haven't the foggiest what you're going on about?"
With perfect timing, four of the guards came in, leading their horses. Kieran launched into an explanation about color and size and the fact that Quarter Horses were so named for their ability to run a quarter of a mile very quickly, etc., etc. Will and Mordred both listened intently, and then nodded, Mordred with a bit more desperation. Gwaine was more concerned with the slender, bright eyed, and rather elderly looking Palomino that was trying to eat his hair.
"Right. So, the one who's in love with Gwaine is Kona, and she was my mother's horse. She and some of the others are acting as therapy horses now, since they're so well trained and good with kids."
Kieran promptly dragged Mordred over to go make friends with Kona, and Arthur led the rest through the stalls, letting them wander and coo at the horses. Will seemed particularly taken with a little brown Welsh Pony, who was named Jake, and even dared to reach in and touch him. Merlin wandered over to go and talk with the hostlers, and Gwaine stared in awe at one of the huge Andalusian horses, a gelding that had been dubbed Guingalet. Guingalet made it clear that Gwaine's hair looked like a snack.
Peligoso's stall was the closest to the door, largely because the enormous, disturbingly intelligent beast liked to escape and run wild. The less space in the stable he had to knock over things the better was the logic, and Arthur could see that the black horse was already plotting his next escape. He scowled at the huge animal, and was unsurprised when Kieran appeared at his side, letting out a gasp.
"This is Peligoso?"
"Mmhmm."
Kieran beamed. "We trained him! I remember! Papa hated him, because he was so stubborn, so I got to help because we got along well."
"…You trained my father's horse?"
"Oh yes. Is he ridden much anymore?"
"Not since my father moved to the sunny Caribbean, no."
Kieran nodded sharply, as if having made a decision. "I'd be happy to exercise him for you."
"…Alright then."
/
Dinner was a relaxed affair. After they'd returned to the house, Merlin had insisted on having dinner privately so they could talk amongst themselves about what to do next.
He was now sitting in the Pendragons' spacious private dining room, and felt more at home than he had in months. The room was centered on a long oval table, comfortable high back chairs surrounding it. The place was painted in warm blues and browns, with hints of gold spread around to make people aware of where they still were, but not so much as to be ostentatious. The room was large, but homier than the rest of the building. One wall was full of windows that looked out to the front of the house and towards the driveway, and they had been opened to let a pleasant breeze blow through. It had been a long time since he'd sat in this room, he thought absently as Gwaine's hand rested on his leg. His own hand slipped down and reassuringly squeezed Gwaine's. Gwaine, while taken with the place, was clearly uncomfortable. This was the kind of place he could have grown up in, if his father hadn't left, after all. Gwaine seemed a bit calmer, and returned to his food. Will was only picking at his, eyes occasionally flicking up to watch as Geraint came in and out of the room with information for Arthur. Kieran and Mordred were seated together, and so seemed to gravitate to each other. The group talked and laughed and made light conversation, waiting until everyone was settled to discuss how things were to be done next.
Once dessert had arrived (a cold cheesecake that Will latched onto like a starving man who's sighted steak, and Kieran pronounced 'surprisingly good') and then been cleared away, everyone settled in for the discussion.
"I think that it's safe to say that we'll be working from the house," Arthur announced.
Gwaine nodded approvingly, and Merlin inclined his head, a bit reluctantly.
"You have a video conference room?" Gwaine asked briskly.
"Yes, there's one set up in the event of something like this happening. I'll use it with a few of the clients or invite them out here. You'll need it?"
"At least to run press conferences, as somebody's likely to notice that you're gone and want to know why." Gwaine ran his fingers through his hair in contemplation. "Gwen can probably handle anything they throw at her, and my two little intern-creatures need a chance to spread their proverbial wings in any case. Owain needs some experience, and Drea just needs more confidence. They'll be fine, and if I can conference with them say, once every two days, I think it'll be good."
Arthur nodded.
"I'll still have to be at work and school, and Kieran can hardly just drop out when he's this close to finishing," Mordred pointed out. Arthur nodded again.
"You'll have guards sent with you. Kieran, once you're done with classes, come straight back here. Same goes for Mordred when work finishes. I'll make arrangements with the school- I donated half the money for the new library and most of the money for the Opera House, it's not like they can really tell me no."
Will gave him a long look and drawled, "So this is how the other side lives…"
/
"Your room, sir."
"It's Will, really." Will looked nervously around as one of the footmen flipped on the lights. It was small, painted dark blue with occasional gold highlights making the walls sparkle, with an attached bathroom, a vanity, and a canopy bed, as well as a plush armchair and a window that opened onto a small balcony. He'd been placed in a room that overlooked the gardens, which was nice. If he squinted he could see small white shapes still running about- some of the horses preferred sleeping out of doors.
"Okay. You've got everything?"
"Yep."
"Alright. Mr. Arthmael and Senor Gonzales are in the suite three doors down on the right, should you need them, and Mr. Emrys and his man are in the physician's suite on the third floor. Sleep well, Will."
Will smiled as brightly as he could manage. "Thanks."
The door closed, and he slumped to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Lifting his head, he looked around the room, and hugged himself, feeling very, very alone for the first time in eleven long years.
"Sleep well indeed," he muttered darkly, and proceeded to pull the blankets off the bed and make a nest in the corner. It was going to be a long, long night.
/
"We're sleeping in the same bed that Gauis did?"
"Yes- Don't look at me like that, I grew up in this suite!"
"But…It's Gaius's bed! I can feel my libido wilting in terror as we speak!"
"Oh, shut up."'
Sheets were fluffed, bodies flopped in, rearranged, shuffled, muttered about, and then silence reigned supreme. For about, oh, a minute.
"I love you."
"I know."
"…Merlin?"
"Mm?"
"I miss our bed."
"So do I, love, so do I. No! Get your icy cold feet off of me!"
"I loooove youuuu-"
"Shut it."
/
The Orlov horse began development by a man named Count Alexi Orlov. He owned the horse that is considered the foundation sire, an Oriental stallion named Smetanka. Thus, the ha-ha moment with Geraint and Kieran. Another fun fact, horses are not actually white unless they're true albinos. They're considered "grey", but for the purposes of this story, there are called white horses, as most "grey" horses look pretty buggering white. Orlovs can come in "grey", though, so that is correct. I know, it's confusing, but I didn't come up with it.
As to why Geraint Chase is called Chase by some people and Geraint by others- Arthur and Merlin grew up knowing him as Geraint, and so do not call him Chase, which was what they called his father. There'll be more on his history later, as well as more about Kieran's family, I promise.
For more information on Orlovs, Palominos, Appaloosas, Paints, Quarter Horses, Thoroughbreds, and Andalusians (now more commonly known as Pure Spanish Horses), please consult Google or myself (though I'd trust Google more. Seriously. I know about horses, but I don't know as much as the almighty internets). Questions, comments, concerns, and general WTF-ness can be directed to me through the little blue review button.