Chapter 29: What Uther Had to Say
"I really do feel ill," Arthur said as they resumed their homeward trudge. A pint at the neighborhood pub had done little to make him feel better. "Cornelius Sigan is absolutely sickening. The way he looks at me! The way he looks at you!"
"At least the tapestry's ours, and we're through with him, for now," Merlin said, wrinkling his nose. He looked up from his mobile phone, which he had just checked for messages. "Aren't we?"
"Not quite," was Arthur's morose reply. "He'll be at that Antiquities Society reception, tomorrow night. I can't help but feel that the man still has something up his sleeve. Thank God we're leaving by the end of the week! When I saw the way he was watching you in the gallery, I was itching to get my hands around his neck."
Merlin said nothing, but he smiled, and Arthur could see that his eyes were bright and he was practically glowing.
"Now!" muttered the Assistant Director of the Pendragon Institute, touching his conservator lightly on the elbow. "I need to have a little conference with Father. Preferably after dinner."
Merlin gave him a sympathetic look. They continued to walk, with no further comment on the subject of Cornelius Sigan, but Merlin kept to himself the content of the text message that had appeared on his mobile phone only minutes before:
Should you ever choose to leave the Institute, for whatever reason, you will be welcome to come to work for me. C.S.
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If Mordred was still distressed over the state of the universe, he wasn't about to pursue the subject over dinner. The closest he came to the question of whether or not the universe had a shelf life was the conversation he initiated on the subject of black holes, which started halfway through the main course. It was actually more like a monologue than a conversation, as nobody else at the table was able to make a coherent response to anything he was attempting to explain.
"MIT isn't a bad idea after all," Arthur said when the arrival of glazed orange cake put an end to Mordred's musings.
"I told you," Mordred announced through a mouthful of cake. "I want to go back to New York with you."
"Don't speak with your mouth full, darling," said Elaine.
"Mordred, MIT's in Massachusetts, remember?" Merlin began, gently, but Uther had assumed his most self-righteous expression and interrupted without even glancing in Merlin's direction.
"Mordred, that's quite impossible," he said in the quiet but stern voice that would have pushed every one of Morgana's danger buttons, had she been present. "You're too young to go off to America by yourself, and too young to attend MIT."
His youngest child stared at him coldly, his pale blue eyes wide, but made no reply. It was his older son who spoke.
"Father, if you're not too busy, I'd like to have a word, after coffee," Arthur said calmly. "Perhaps in your study?"
"As it happens, I was going to ring Cornelius about his insurance appraisal," Uther began in a rather ponderous tone, but his wife put her hand on his arm.
"Uther," she said, quietly but firmly, her china-blue eyes fixed on his face. "Your son needs to speak to you. Cornelius can wait."
Arthur's mouth came very close to falling open, and Merlin, swallowing hard, caught his dessert fork in the sleeve of his jacket and sent it flying across the table.
"Very well, then," Uther said, looking almost as astonished as Arthur. "After coffee."
They adjourned to the parlour, where they all – except for Mordred – helped themselves to very strong coffee in an effort to recharge their batteries (as Gaius always put it, before Institute staff meetings). Then Mordred went upstairs to play computer games and Merlin retreated to one end of the long, elegantly-furnished room, where Elaine had piled the old photograph albums on one of the side tables.
"Bloody hell," muttered Arthur at the sight of the photo albums, but their significance had dwindled in the face of a man-to-man talk with the senior Pendragon.
"Wish me luck," he added under his breath. His back was to the room but he could hear his father's purposeful tread moving in the direction of the study. Ignoring the likelihood that Uther was looking in their direction, Arthur lifted his hand, fingers slightly curled, and ran the knuckles lightly down the side of Merlin's face. Merlin blushed, but did not pull away, and moments later they heard the gentle click of a turning doorknob as Uther disappeared behind his study door.
They eyed one another, Arthur a little grim faced, and Merlin still flushed, but this time with a mixture of pride in him and affection.
"It'll be fine," he whispered as Arthur turned to go. "Everything's going to be alright."
"Idiot!" Arthur mumbled, rolling his eyes but smiling. "Mind you don't give yourself a hernia laughing at those photos."
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Arther knew that his father had been aware of many of his previous liaisons; it would have been difficult to keep them from him, as most had been well documented in the press. He also knew Uther was not ignorant of the fact that his sex life had involved men as well as women. This had not appeared to irk the senior Pendragon to excess, as Arthur showed no signs of wanting to establish a lasting relationship with any of his lovers, of either gender. Apparently Uther had regarded his son's past amours as casual dalliances (which they were), leaving open the possibility of a socially advantageous marriage (and high-born grandchildren) in the future. Yet now Arthur had moved his junior conservator into his flat, and displayed all the signs of being emotionally attached to him. Had Merlin simply been the object of a casual fling, Uther might have had no particularly intense objection to him. His displeasure, rather, was due to the evidence of Arthur's genuine and growing affection for this strangely appealing young man, and indications that he might even make the tie permanent. If Merlin Emrys became a permanent fixture, he was standing in the way of Arthur's reproductive prospects and the future of the Pendragon dynasty.
Because of these things, it was with some trepidation that Arthur knocked on the door of Uther's study, and waited patiently until it was opened.
Uther looked uncharacteristically flustered; his hair was just slightly awry, as if he had been running his fingers through it. He gestured his son into the room, and then closed the door very softly. Once behind his desk, he seemed to regain a little of his sternly autocratic air, but Arthur could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he held his head rigidly upright.
"Very well, Arthur," he said in the deceptively mild voice that always indicated an intractable mood. "What is it you had to say to me?"
There, on Uther's desk, was a large, high-resolution print of Cornelius Sigan's tapestry, with that mysterious figure – lordling or manservant? – that so closely resembled Merlin. The eyes slightly downcast beneath the cap of dark hair, the long neck and boyish shoulders, the little half-smile…it was amazing, how much it looked like his junior conservator. In whom Cornelius Sigan appeared to have harbored an interest that extended beyond an appreciation of his professional brilliance.
It was this more than anything else that made Arthur decide to get down to the matter that had been plaguing him, rather than easing gradually into the subject.
"From what I understand, Father," he said, with no preamble, "you were aware that Cornelius was hoping to get Merlin to work as his conservator. Cornelius was also hoping that Aredian would take Merlin's place with us, at the Institute, for that six-month period. I'm happy to have the tapestry, but he's a devious bastard, and unscrupulous into the bargain."
"Arthur," the senior Pendragon murmured, looking his son in the face. "It's true I knew he was interested in courting Merlin for his art collection. I didn't interfere, either on his behalf or yours. It was my opinion that this was something you could handle on your own."
"It was," Arthur replied, his voice still even. "But that isn't the point, really. The point is that you disapprove of my…relationship with Merlin and are reluctant to acknowledge it."
"Have I ever been discourteous to Merlin?" his father asked with a touch of indignation.
"Not precisely," Arthur answered.
"When you were younger," Uther said heavily, not meeting Arthur's eyes, "I used to think that you would settle down and marry…a daughter of one of our friends, perhaps. And now…" He did not finish the sentence, simply raising his hands and letting them fall with a slap onto the top of his desk. "You'll say that's snobbish of me. Of course I know I have no right to try to control whom you…er." He said this with such reluctance that his son almost smiled. "I've always hoped, as well, that Morgana would find a suitable spouse."
"Father," said Arthur slowly. "Forgive me, but what the hell is a suitable spouse? Somebody whose ancestors go back to the Conqueror? Somebody whose family made a fortune in money markets?"
"There was my old friend Lot's son, a promising young Guardsman. He was so very taken with her," Uther went on as if he hadn't heard. "Although it seems," he added, almost sadly, "that she has plans of her own in that department."
Arthur stifled a guffaw at the thought of anybody trying to force Morgana to marry the promising young Guardsman. The poor fellow would be running for his life in the space of fifteen minutes.
There was a loud, unexpected clap of thunder outside, reminding Arthur of Merlin's joke about Morgana's "army of the dead," and he repressed the sudden urge to laugh.
"I have nothing against Merlin," Uther continued in a heavy voice. "Nothing against the boy, except for the fact that he is a boy. Now Arthur, you know I'm no homophobe or bigot, so don't look at me like that. There's the future to think of. I've always hoped to have grandchildren. Yes, there's Mordred, but he's still a child, bright as he is, and we both know he's…well, not exactly your ordinary youngster. What he will be like when he's an adult nobody can guess, and…ah, there's little point in talking about that now."
"It's a rather selfish reason, isn't it, to want me to marry so that you can have grandchildren, preferably grandchildren who are well-connected on both sides of the family," Arthur mumbled. Then, in a sudden onslaught of words, "And I know you're not exactly a homophobe or bigot, not one hundred percent anyway, but you probably think Merlin seduced me. Because of my position, and because I'm a Pendragon. Well, that wasn't the case. Merlin doesn't give a rat's ar…doesn't care one iota about my professional and social position, or the family's wealth. As for the seducing bit, I was the one who initiated our…our, uh, thing or whatever, and he had never, uh, been with a man before me."
Uther winced.
"This is very peculiar," Arthur went on, uncomfortably. "The fact that we're even discussing the details of this sort of, uh…"
"…thing," Uther finished for him, and the two looked at each other gloomily.
"So when Sigan…" Arthur said in a low voice, "when he made his proposal, I thought you might have had a hand in it. I was nonplussed, to say the least. But I'm glad it wasn't your idea. Although I realize you may have been very much in favor of it."
"I won't lie to you, Arthur," Uther said stiffly. "I wasn't averse to the idea of young Mr Emrys going to work elsewhere. He's a promising conservator, and Gaius thinks the world of him, but I thought, perhaps, with him out of the picture…"
"You thought wrong," Arthur interrupted brusquely.
"Yes," his father replied, lowering his eyes. "I can see that now." His still-handsome face suddenly flushed a dark red. "You're fond of him. I don't suppose you can explain what he is to you…not that it's any, ahem, any of my business."
Arthur looked at him wordlessly. How could he possibly explain Merlin to Uther in a way that would make him understand? The Merlin who read him so well and so clearly, better than anyone else ever had. Who saw past the surface arrogance and refused to be intimidated by him. Whose quirky sense of humor and inscrutable silences were so uniquely Merlin. Who gave himself up to Arthur, heart, body, and soul, in their lovemaking. Yes, of course, he could be infuriating, contradictory, clumsy, secretive - but never before had Arthur known someone who could pick up on his moods so intuitively and respond to them with such an endearing blend of awkwardness and sensitivity. Who, if Arthur was in a particularly unpleasant state of mind, could sense his frustration or his hidden melancholy. On such occasions, he might deliberately launch into a flood of boyish chatter to distract him, ignoring the acid retorts Arthur flung in his direction. Or, if they happened to be in bed and he was awakened by Arthur's restless, agitated movements, he might silently offer his body as a comfort and a refuge.
"I'm sorry if you don't like it, Father," he said tiredly. "I can't ask you to approve, but I do expect you to accept it."
"I don't see that I have much of a choice," Uther said, sounding almost as tired. "As I said, I don't dislike the young man."
Arthur stood up. "That will have to do for now, then," he said with a wry smile. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. You can make that call to Cornelius now."
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As Arthur left the study and stepped into the parlour with a sigh of tension released, he heard another loud clap of thunder. Glancing at the window, he saw that it had suddenly gone dark, and what looked like a solid grey curtain of rain veiled the view of the street. His stepmother was also looking outside, and as Arthur approached she turned towards him with an apologetic expression.
"Oh dear, Arthur," she said, raising her shoulders. "Look, it's like a waterfall. Mordred wanted some cocoa, and we had no more milk, so Merlin offered to run out and get some. Then, five minutes after he left, this-" and she gestured at the cascade of water. "And he didn't take an umbrella."
Arthur blew out his breath in an explosive pffff, seized an umbrella from the porcelain umbrella stand in the front hall, and opened the door. As he turned to leave, he caught Elaine's encouraging smile.
Outside, the pavement was deserted, and gusts of wind blew the rain sideways. Two streets away, he came across Merlin. He was carrying a small sack of groceries, and had taken shelter at the corner of a building, beneath the overhang of a broad window ledge. This was doing little to protect him, and for a moment Arthur stood stock still, staring at Merlin's pale, rain-washed cheeks, water dripping from his short fringe, and his eyelashes, and the tip of his nose, pillowy lips shimmering wet, his eyes gone a dreamy, slatelike blue-grey, like the stormy sky. Then he coughed, a little self-consciously, and Merlin raised his head and saw him.
Arthur didn't know if it was the hard, pelting rain, or the darkness, or the earthy smell of rainwashed brick and stone combined with the faint, citrusy scent of Merlin's shower gel, that made the moment so oddly charged with eroticism. For several seconds they stood looking at one another, rain spattering everywhere, and then Arthur snorted with exasperation and pulled his conservator beneath the umbrella. Merlin came to him, silent and pliant, and Arthur leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. Merlin's lips were yielding but very cold, and Arthur readjusted the umbrella, then turned them around in the direction of home.
"Honestly, Merlin," he said gruffly, pretending not to notice the young man's quizzical smile. "You'll catch your death; come on, then…you're dripping all over me."
Merlin shrugged his shoulders affably and fell into step beside his Assistant Director, one hand clutching the plastic grocery sack, the other resting on the umbrella shaft, just above Arthur's own.
