Author's note : I offer my apologizes first hand for taking time to post this. Real life happened and I found myself far away from my laptop and all things Merlin. But I had a duty and this is it. I hope that it meets the expectations of all who 'alerted' this story, 'favourite-d' this author and sent in your wonderful feedbacks. This one is for you.
I will update other chapter as soon as I can. For the meantime, though, I hope this will as enjoyable for you to read, as it was for me to imagine it and write it.
I do not own Merlin. I will never give up on owning the Crowned Prince of Camelot.
It may surprise many people but Arthur was an early-riser and inevitably, too much of a cheerful morning person that it borders on irritation for the rest of the general public. This was Merlin's point-of-view. But it was a habit inculcated since his childhood and his years in boarding school and not even the luxury of being his own boss had changed it. He gets up early, goes for a run and then returns to the flat and makes as much noise as he could preparing tea and toast, causing Lance and Merlin to wake without the aid of alarm clocks. Lance does not mind. Merlin does.
The next day, a Friday, saw Arthur in the kitchen, sitting on a chair, his bare feet up on the counter, comfortable in his designer running clothes and watching the morning news on the television above the fridge. He was drinking his coffee when Lance walked into the kitchen.
"Casual Fridays finally taking off at Pendragon Industries?" Lance asked. Lance's office strictly adhered to casual Fridays every day of the working week and he was in his New Zealand Rugby shirt and Dockers.
"I'm not officially back from my business trip," Arthur said, gesturing with his coffee mug towards the television. A news report was highlighting the recently concluded negotiations between the government of Barbados and Pendragon Industries to build four battle ships for the Barbadian Navy Fleet. Uther Pendragon, smiling broadly, can be seen shaking hands with the Barbadian Minster of Defence. The smile on the senior Pendragon's face was disconcerting; it was unlikely look for him.
"He looks happy," Lance remarked, as he poured himself a mug of coffee. He pulled a chair next to Arthur, and settled down to watch the news.
"He is happy," Arthur replied. "He had an afternoon at the spa, a good night's sleep and a Continental breakfast. Some of us were running on stale sandwiches and coffee of questionable origins."
Lance smiled when he heard Arthur, but he did detect the cynical tone behind his voice. Many would have assumed Arthur's ten-day trip to Barbados was nothing more than a tropical holiday for the younger Pendragon, who would be overseeing his staff from the comforts of his deck chair beside the horizon pool. The truth could be no different. Arthur spent every day in meetings with government and military officials. The nights were occupied with sorting out paperwork and bureaucratic red tape. He had not minded one bit, knowing very well he was missing out on the sun, some of the beautiful women in the world and the stunning beach. Pendragon Industries was his pride and joy and Arthur worked hard to make it one of the foremost military contractors in the country.
"You father must be proud," Lance said, not implying which aspect Uther Pendragon would be proud of; his son's hardwork or the contract worth billions.
Arthur shrugged. He stopped caring what his father thought of him. It did not matter to him anymore. Arthur knew he had done well in Barbados.
"Well, cheers, mate," Lance said, holding out his coffee mug towards Arthur. "For whatever you did in Barbados." Lance's genuine intention of congratulating Arthur for a job well done was layered in a playful subtext.
Arthur understood what Lance was trying to say and appreciated it. He touched his coffee mug to Lance and could not help grinning when he said, "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"It's too early for a recap of your sordid tales of tropical debauchery," Merlin remarked, as he entered the kitchen, eyes partially closed because apparently Merlin could not handle the morning sunlight. Years of practice had made him adept enough to move around the flat with his eyes closed. Yet, it could not help him choose coordinating clothes from his wardrobe. Today was a clash of neon green and grey. And from the streaks of colour on the left side of his face that had not washed off from his shower, it was obvious that Merlin had used his palette as a pillow again.
"God, Merlin. Did you have a go at the miniatures I got you?" Lance asked, eyeing Merlin's dishevelled look.
"No…" But the look of guilt was a dead giveaway of the truth. "I was just looking at them. They looked so...pretty under the light in my studio." He had a wistful look on his face as he said this.
"What have we told you about inhaling fumes from your water-colour tubes?" Arthur asked. Both he and Lance were standing now, looking as if they were berating a six-year old.
"I didn't sleep the whole night," Merlin explained, taking the coffee mug Lance was handing to him. "I woke up at one and started painting. I must have painted until I dozed off. I woke up this morning under my workbench."
Even Arthur and Lance had no explanation to how Merlin could have ended up down there. They shook their heads and turned their attention back to the news. Merlin does not watch the news; he claims the bad stuff he hears and sees is bad for his artist's soul. This coming from a guy who watches Teletubbies for entertainment.
"The painting's going to be unveiled on Monday," Merlin told them, as he helped himself to some toast and jam. "You guys are invited as my guests."
Arthur was going to say something about boring people talking about boring stuff and boring people to death as they do so, when Lance put a hand on his shoulder.
"Free – flowing liquor, mate," Lance told him.
"And the artistic type girls who pose for nude portraits?" Arthur added his own suggestion, which Lance responded with a fist bump. Merlin rolled his eyes and groaned.
"I'm going to ring Morgana later," Merlin said, munching his toast. Turning to Lance who was at the sink, rinsing out his mug, Merlin added, "Maybe you should invite Guinevere too."
Lance hung the mug on and turned around to face Merlin. He looked as though he was going to disagree with the suggestion. But before he could say anything, Arthur interrupted.
"Should I bring a date too?" he asked, settling back into his seat.
"Farm animals are not allowed at the Hall," Merlin pointed out, grinning over his coffee mug.
"When are you going understand, mate, that you are not going to make it as a comedian," Arthur told him.
"But he has a point, mate," Lance said, glad the spotlight is off him for the moment. "I've never had any decent conversation with any of the girls you date."
Arthur scoffs, looking amused. "Do you honestly think I date women so that YOU can have decent conversation with them? That is as preposterous as thinking I date them for their conversational skills."
Lance and Merlin thought about what Arthur had said and nodded their approval, congratulating Arthur on his principles.
"Maybe I can make a phone call or two..." Arthur spoke almost to himself, as he pondered which model would be available for a night of Arts and Culture.
"Not Vivian," Merlin said, looking horrified.
"Yes, not Vivian," Lance agreed. "She is under the impression that I am your butler."
"And me your handmaiden or something," Merlin said, frowning.
"Maybe it's because she thinks you're so pretty," Arthur said, remembering the disturbing conversation he had after the woman in question had met Merlin. But she was a convenient date and sometimes, she allows to him stay over for breakfast...
"See you guys later," Lance's voice stopped Arthur's train of thoughts before it became too explicit.
"What about Guinevere?" Merlin asked, looking at Lance as he gathered his coat and crash helmet.
"What about her?" Lance asked, looking as if he has no idea what Merlin was talking about.
"Come on, Lance. Give us a chance to be introduced to her properly. Arthur wasn't even wearing any clothes when she saw him yesterday," Merlin said, urgency in his voice.
Lance looked at Arthur, whose face was surprisingly flushed. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but Lance interrupted him.
"I think I can live without an explanation for it," Lance replied, making his way towards the doorway. "I knew I shouldn't have left the both of you alone at home unsupervised. Ouch!"
The apple that struck the back of Lance's head fell to the floor and bounced twice before rolling under the kitchen cabinet. Turning around, he saw identical glares from Merlin and Arthur, both with their arms crossed across their chest. Lance's only defence was to grin and make a quick getaway before one of them got to him.
"See you guys later," he said, leaving the kitchen, walking in reverse so that he will know when the next missile would hit him.
"You better make sure Guinevere's there at the Hall on Monday," Merlin called out to Lance.
"I'll see what I can do," was Lance's reply from the living room. "No promises." Moments later, there was the sound of the front door being opened and closed, followed by the powerful roar of Lance's Harley snarling to life.
Arthur and Merlin settled back to their seats to finish their breakfast. As he munched his toast, Merlin could not help saying, "She might be traumatized, you know. Seeing you naked and all."
Arthur turned from the television to look at Merlin, an incredulous expression on his face. "I was not naked. I had a bloody towel on, Merlin."
"The one around your waist was considerably smaller than the one on your head...Ouch!" The orange that struck the side of Merlin's head fell to the floor and bounced twice before rolling under the kitchen cabinet, to join the apple.
Silence prevailed in the kitchen once again, not because Merlin had run out of things to say, but because there was a basket of fruits within Arthur's reach; the contents of which included a medium-sized watermelon that Arthur would not have much difficulty to use as a weapon.
Serious injury caused by fruits aside, there also the reactions of his friends to ponder when Merlin had mentioned the names of the two females currently in their lives. It was interesting to note that Lance had almost dropped the coffee mug he was rinsing when Merlin mentioned Morgana. And Arthur had actually blushed when Guinevere was mentioned.
Interesting reactions, Merlin thought. They would deny it later, he had no doubt. The only thing that bothered Merlin was that the reactions seemed misplaced. Something was going on the surface of their seemingly normal life, but Merlin could feel something brewing that is going to change all that very soon.
Vivian was getting married in the weekend. The Belgian model, who trained to be an Olympic gymnast, was in New York for a photo shoot with Vogue. The young starlet who had a bit part in the 'Harry Potter' movie was in the recording studio, trying to launch a career in pop. The Contessa de Burgundy was on a safari in South Africa.
It was Monday afternoon and Arthur had just thrown his phone across his vast office in disgust. He could not believe his luck. None of the girls he called was able for a date this evening. They were all very happy he had thought of them but they were all of them sorry they had previous engagements; though in her defence, Vivian did offer to come over for lunch with Arthur at the office. He knew exactly what she had in mind and he had declined.
He was going to be dateless tonight because some cosmic entity had made sure all his go-to girls were occupied. Arthur was certain that he was going to be the first victim of boredom at the Hall tonight. Lance would be bringing Guinevere, Merlin would be busy explaining his art and Arthur was going to be stuck with Morgana, where she would no doubt take immense pleasure in pointing out the fact he was dateless for the evening. It was so difficult trying to live up to social expectations.
In all honesty, it really would not have bothered Arthur. He has been to various social functions without a date, or with Morgana. This should be no different, but he just thought he would be less miserable with a pretty companion. Sighing, he turned away from the glass wall that doubles as a window; all of London spread out in front of him and no date for the evening. He would just have to make do with the liquor then.
They served supermarket wine. Sodding supermarket wine because the organizers thought it was best that people did not get too hung over so early in the working week. They probably did not know half the crowd in the Hall was hung-over. They had to be, all of them looked as if they were enjoying themselves. Arthur had been left to fend for himself; Lance and Morgana were running late and Merlin had to explain his artwork to the visiting royalty. That left Arthur alone and when Arthur is alone, he is miserable. He chose a relatively empty area of the gallery and stayed there, the untouched wineglass in his hand, so that none of the waiters walking around with an air of self-importance would not be inclined to offer him the poison they were distributing. Arthur knew Merlin had a miniature bottle of rum with him, but he was not sure where Merlin was. He made a mental note to himself to get as many miniatures as possible for social events just like these.
"Arthur? Arthur Pendragon?"
Arthur closed his eyes, hoping it was not a reporter looking for a quote from him. If was asked what he thought of the evening's festivities, he would have gagged. He took his time to turn around and when saw the person who was addressing him...
"Guinevere!" He could barely conceal the happiness, the relief of seeing a familiar face.
Guinevere frowned a little, his enthusiasm was probably a little unexpected, but then she too must have been similarly relieved to see someone she knew, so she smiled. She looked a little nervous but otherwise fine. Arthur realized that she was quite pretty. There was no mistaking the intelligence behind the dark eyes; she looked as if she would not take any nonsense from anyone.
Where does Lance find them?
"I was not sure if it was you," Guinevere said, relaxing just a bit. People passing in the gallery made her take an involuntary step towards Arthur. She was a head shorter than him; her boots gave her a few extra inches and Arthur wondered how it would feel to dance a slow number with her.
"Perhaps I should have come dressed in my towel," Arthur muttered. Guinevere's response to this was to blush. "I'm sorry for that day," he quickly added, not wanting her to be uncomfortable.
Guinevere shook her head, indicating it was all forgotten, until he brought it up himself.
"Now that I am fully dressed, do you think we could start over again?" Arthur asked, looking at Guinevere and wondering why her approval of him would matter so much.
"I'd like that."
"Hello, I am Arthur Pendragon."
"Hello, Arthur. I'm Guinevere Leodegrance. Lance has told me about you," she said, picking up a wineglass from a waiter who passed their way.
"Then why are you still with Lance?"
It took a moment for Guinevere to fully understand what Arthur was saying and when she did, clearly she did not think of it as amusing as Arthur had thought it would be. It was fascinating though for Arthur to watch the emotions flickering across the face; bewilderment, comprehension, surprise and finally a smile to confirm that she knew when to take a joke.
"That's because I met him first," she said, and this time it was Arthur's turn to be surprised. For the life of him, he had not been expecting this reply from her.
"That's all right," Arthur replied, knowing that talking is the only thing he could do at the moment. Talking meant no silence where they...he would have to contemplate what was merely words with nothing more than the intention to fill in awkward moments. "Here we are together now."
Guinevere smiled. She too appeared not to be giving too much thought to what she had said. They were grown-ups, mature enough to say things...to flirt harmlessly. "Yes. Although I think it is just going to be you, because I am planning on getting out of here."
"You have not met Merlin yet," Arthur said quickly, horrified at the thought of her leaving. Then, he would alone and be forced to drink the appalling liquor they are passing as wine. "Lance would be here soon and I think they have locked the doors. We are to perish in boredom."
"I'm not bored," Guinevere said quickly. "I just don't know anyone here."
"I'm a Libra and I enjoy outdoor sports and good English food."
"What?" Guinevere looked incredulous.
"Well, now you know me," Arthur replied, smiling. "So, you don't have to leave."
"You do realize you sound like a really bad singles' ad?" She asked him, laughter in her eyes.
"That is because I am single." Arthur could not believe the things coming out of his mouth. He looked into his wineglass, wondering if the bad wine was causing his mouth to say things before his brains could approve it.
Guinevere, bless her, pretended to be interested in her drink and before Arthur could stop her, she took a sip of the wine. She gagged and looked at him accusingly, as if it was his fault the wine was horrifying.
"Tell me about yourself, Guinevere," Arthur said, removing the wineglass from her hand. He placed both their glasses on the tray of a passing waiter and looked at her, who frowned back at him.
"Why?"
"Just trying to have a conversation," Arthur shrugged.
"We could talk about the resolutions of the Copenhagen Summit," Guinevere suggested. "That is constructive conversation."
"Yes, how about that," Arthur replied. But he was not going to give up. Not when it involved someone like Guinevere. "So, where are you from?"
"Does it matter?" Guinevere was determined not to make it easy for him. He wondered if she gave Lance similar treatment.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Arthur wanted to say that he wanted to know which part of the country produced women as beautiful as her; it was not a shabby line, in fact, many women had been impressed with it. But before he could test it out on Guinevere, Morgana appeared.
"Is he boring you with tales of his greatness?" she asked Guinevere, sounding as if she has known Guinevere all her life.
"We have not reached that part yet," Guinevere replied.
"Ah, here's Morgana, a wet blanket impersonating a human," Arthur introduced her. "Morgana, this Guinevere Leodegrance."
"Lance's girlfriend?"
Guinevere's smile; neither a denial nor a confirmation. A flicker of emotion passed through both Pendragons' features, too minute for Guinevere to notice. But since introductions have been made, Morgana was compelled to extend a hand of friendship.
"Nice to meet you, Guinevere," Morgana said, looking at her and genuinely meaning it.
"Likewise," Guinevere replied. "Have you seen Lance?"
As if the question was a cue for his arrival, Lance appeared, looking nervous. "Sorry I am late. My editor forgot that some people had a life outside the office." This was the general greeting for everyone. Turning to Guinevere, he mouthed a 'Hi' and kissed her hello. Morgana too got a kiss, similarly avuncular, Arthur noted.
"Have you already seen Merlin's work?" Lance asked them. Arthur and Morgana replied in affirmative, while Guinevere shook her head.
"He'll never forgive me if I didn't show if off to you," Lance remarked. "Excuse us?" he actually looked as if he was waiting for Arthur and Morgana to give him permission to show Guinevere Merlin's artwork.
"Sure, mate," Arthur said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. "Try the wine while you're at it. It's a taste sensation you'll never forget."
Guinevere smiled but she held her peace, probably to get back at Lance for being showing up so late. Lance held out his hand for Guinevere and they left Arthur and Morgana standing in the corner of the gallery, watching Lance and Guinevere walk away.
"What is wrong with us Pendragons?" Morgana asked, turning to look at the paintings behind her. While her eyes might be on the artwork, Arthur was sure her mind was not.
"Why do you think there is something wrong with us?" Arthur asked, looking at the same painting without seeing it.
"Look at us," Morgana said, turning to Arthur. "We are alone in a room full of people."
"That is hardly our fault, is it?" Arthur said, turning to regard his stepsister. He knew what she was talking about. He had known since he was eighteen.
Morgana smiled, linking her arm into Arthur's as she led him away from the gallery and towards the main gallery.
"You did not ring all weekend," Arthur said. "Were you wallowing or were dissecting your date with Lance?"
"Wallowing," Morgana replied. "And it was not a date. I was working, remember? Reviewing?" Then, she sighed. "And now, there's Guinevere."
Arthur nodded. "Yes, Guinevere." At that exact moment, his eyes locked on to a mass of dark curls at the other end of the room. Guinevere was being introduced to Merlin. She was laughing. Surely Merlin could not be that funny? Or perhaps she's amused with his ears?
"He's smitten with her, you know," Morgana told Arthur. "Looked absolutely ecstatic when she rang him during dinner."
Arthur did not reply. He was still watching Guinevere, captivated by the way she laughed. He did not see Merlin or Lance in his vision, only Guinevere. And when she put a hand on Lance's shoulder, Arthur knew he was in for a night of alternate wallowing and dissecting.
Morgana was right. There was something fundamentally wrong with the Pendragons.
The rest of the evening fared slightly better. Merlin's painting was hailed a masterpiece by the patron of the Hall and the Press. The function was still on at the Hall, but the five of them had enough of artistic talk and crap wine. They left the gallery and made Merlin buy them a round of drinks at the pub across the road from the gallery.
They toasted their drinks to Merlin, wishing him more success in his art and hoping that one day, he would regain his ability to dress himself for the public because the grey slack, maroon plaids and yellow undershirt was enough to get him arrested. It would probably get Lance and Arthur arrested too for not intervening, as they lived in the same house and had the moral responsibility to ensure Merlin was presentable in public. Merlin had shrugged, claiming he had artistic license to dress as he pleased.
"That is irresponsible of you, Merlin," Morgana told him. "Think of public safety for once, would you?"
Merlin rolled his eyes, allowing the ribbing to continue. It was his friends' way of making sure he does not get in over his head with all the adulations he had just received. It was their way of keeping him grounded. He would have done the same for Arthur and Lance.
"And Guinevere is not used such colour clashes," Lance remarked, glancing at Guinevere.
So far, Guinevere had kept mostly to herself and Lance; perhaps their group was a little too overwhelming for her. But she did grin and nodded her agreement to Lance's opinion.
They finished their drinks, all of them sorry they could not get smashed because it was too early in the week. They made preparations to leave; Lance was to drop off Guinevere at her flat in Soho.
"It was nice meeting you, Guinevere," Merlin said, as they lingered outside the pub, saying their goodbyes. "Don't be a stranger anymore, all right?"
"Thank you, Merlin," Guinevere answered, turning her face for Merlin to kiss her goodnight. "It was great meeting you again."
Similar sentiments were exchanged between Guinevere and Morgana and then it was Arthur's turn. He said his goodnights and then, without thinking too much about it, kissed her goodbye. As he drew back, he drank in her scent and just how lovely she looked up close. And when Lance handed her the spare helmet, the reality of her being with Lance came crashing back. Lance kissed Morgana good night, taking a rain check on joining Merlin and her for lunch tomorrow, before walking off with Guinevere towards his Harley parked at the Hall's parking lot. The three of them watched Lance and Guinevere go; Merlin indifferent and the two Pendragons just slightly melancholic.
"You know what I think?" Arthur asked, turning back to Merlin and Morgana.
"Plastic is bad for the environment and we should bring our own bags the next time we shop at Tesco?" Merlin said an innocent look on his face.
Arthur closed his eyes, praying for calmness. "Yes, Merlin," Arthur answered, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable. "That is exactly what I was thinking while I stand in front of this pub with all the alcohol inside and the wonderful idea of getting sozzled for the night. I was thinking of grocery shopping at Tesco."
Morgana sighed, taking hold of Arthur's arm and leading him away from the pub. "It's just Monday evening. You are working tomorrow, Arthur," Morgana reminded him. "Save it for the weekend, will you?"
Arthur reluctantly allowed himself to be led away. The prospect of not knowing when he would meet Guinevere again was surprisingly heavy in his thoughts. He did not know which aspect of it disturbed him more; the fact that he actually misses Guinevere. Or the fact he is missing his best friend's girlfriend. That thought felt like cold water over his head; he shook his head trying not to think of Guinevere or how exquisite she looked up close.
And then it hit him. Of course, he should have known this was bound to happen. This is what happens when he is dateless at social events. Guinevere was an attractive woman and he could not help himself. Yes, that was all that it was. It was a side effects of being a party alone; and well, he and Guinevere did indulge in some light-weight flirting, thus this unexplainable feeling that is bordering on madness.
So, there was nothing wrong with the Pendragons after all. That came as a relief to Arthur, who was beginning to think he was a psycho who was lusting after his best friend's girlfriend. He shook his head, clearing all stale thoughts and his mood perked up a little, even at the thought of not getting drunk. He even bought Merlin a Happy Meal on their way home. All this because he managed to convince himself he was not falling for Lance's girlfriend.
If Morgana had known, she would have said one word.
Denial.
Which Arthur was not. Definitely. He did not even spend the night wallowing or thinking about Guinevere.
The fact that he went to sleep and woke up with the image of Guinevere laughing was a just a play of his subconscious man.
Arthur was not in denial. If Merlin knew his thoughts, he would have said Arthur was a crap psychologist because a spade is a spade and Arthur was falling...
No. He was not. There was nothing wrong with Arthur Pendragon.