Summary: Modern Mergana AU. Merlin is the new admin assistant in the corporate office of Pendragon Enterprises, Morgana is a junior exec in marketing, and Arthur...well, Arthur's just technologically inept. Merlin and Morgana initially bond over making fun of Arthur, but soon it becomes something more than that...

Rating: T for themes/implied themes, just to be safe (frankly because Gwaine is, well, Gwaine). No slash, no smut, no language.

Genre: Romance, Humor (Pairing: Merlin/Morgana)

A/N:

Have you ever seen those vinyl decals/stickers that say something along the lines of "I'm a writer...be careful, or you'll end up in my novel"? This fic is one of those times. I'm a classically-trained musician with a day job and I spent the first couple of years after college working as an admin assistant. Every single one of the examples of Arthur's tech ineptitude in this fic come directly from my work experiences: each one is a true story of something I have been asked to do or told to fix, at one point or another (only inconsequential details have been changed to either protect anonymity or to effectively translate something from an American setting to a British setting). So this is a personally-cathartic little fic for me. ;)

Also: I did my best to give this fic a lot of authentic contemporary London details, including locations and slang/idioms, but as much as I'm loath to admit it, the last time I was actually in London was nine years ago. (*sigh*) I've tried to update and supplement my first-hand knowledge with research, but I do humbly ask, if you're a Londoner reading this and you catch any inaccuracies or see things I can do to make this fic better and more authentic, would you please review or PM to let me know? Thanks! xx

Okie dokie, I think that about covers it. Oh, wait: I don't own Merlin, but I do have permission to use the customized 'Keep Calm' cover art. ;)

And if you're here because you've been reading The Prophecy, thanks for taking the time to read that and for checking out this project, too...and now for something completely different:

Prologue

Morgana Gorlois-Pendragon, junior executive of marketing, sat in her office on the 15th floor of Pendragon Enterprises in Canary Wharf, overlooking the lovely autumn colours in Canada Square Park. She had a report to prepare for Friday's board meeting—a comparative analysis of the efficacy of their various marketing campaigns for the past fiscal year—but it was a boring report and it was only Tuesday, after all. The view over the top of her MacBook, afforded by the modern glass walls of the offices which ringed the reception area of the executive suite, was much more interesting. Across from her open door, the new hire sat at the reception desk.

As she tried aimlessly to focus on her report, she heard the phone ring at the reception desk.

"Pendragon Enterprises, Merlin speaking. How may I help—oh, Mr Pendragon! Yes, sir, of course. I will be right there."

He dropped the phone back on the cradle and jumped to his feet, only to trip over the rolling chair he'd just vacated. His momentum sent him sprawling forward on a face-first collision course with the industrial carpet—but he caught himself at the last second on the edge of the reception desk with his elbow.

Ouch, Morgana thought with a twinge of sympathy that felt suspiciously like a bruise, That's going to leave a mark.

"Um, situation normal!" A disembodied voice from somewhere behind the desk and the jumper-clad elbow announced cheerfully to no one in particular.

Morgana couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth as the man righted himself before dashing off toward her half-brother's office, three doors down from hers.

The frosted glass sidewalls of the offices didn't afford nearly as nice a view. She could tell, though, from the body language of Arthur's silhouette that his day was not going particularly well...which meant that the new—uh, that Merlin's—day was not going to go particularly well, either.

She sighed and went back to her report.

None of this data is new or interesting, because we haven't actually tried anything new or interesting in the past five years.

Maybe she would just use all her fancy marketing and communications skills—The posh degree had to be good for something, right?—to make her report interesting and compelling, even if the content inherently wasn't. Maybe one day I'll actually get to make some decisions, get to try something new.

With a furtive glance at the execs in the offices on either side of hers, she opened a different file on her computer—the file where she'd been compiling all the ideas she had for new marketing campaigns that she'd probably never even get to pitch. While being the daughter of the CEO meant a nice salary and job security fresh out of uni a few years ago, she had been determined to prove that she was worthy of the job and not just there as office decoration.

I refuse to be a 'sexy lamp with a post-it.'

She'd used her birth name—Gorlois—exclusively, she'd showed up early and stayed late nearly every day. She'd spent hours at the flat she shared with Arthur, curled up in her lounge in baggy jumpers and fuzzy socks, pouring over industry trend reports and doing extra research on competitors' marketing strategies. After three years, though, it had become clear to Morgana that her non-relative supervisors weren't particularly interested in whether or not she could really excel at the job. They seemed resigned to her continued presence in the role—she was the boss' daughter, after all—but apparently they'd decided from day one that it didn't mean they needed to take her seriously. She would always be the nepotism hire to them, no matter how hard she worked to prove herself.

It also meant that she got stuck with all the boring reports.

She had easily compiled all of the data and completed the in-depth analysis on Monday, so she had the rest of the week to work on the presentation because, despite asking for additional projects, this was all she'd been assigned—no, allowed—to work on this week.

She looked up as she heard Merlin returning from Arthur's office, looking significantly less chipper than before. Morgana glanced down again at her stupendously uninteresting report and her pipe-dream file of ideas, then back up at the reception desk. She might not have the power to fix her job problems, but she might be able to fix the damage her brother had evidently done to the new hire's first day. After all, turnover was expensive to the company—and there had been a lot of turnover in that particular role.

I'd probably bail, too, if I had to report directly to Arthur.

She closed her laptop decisively and set out on her new quest.