HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRADLEY JAMES! Okay, sorry. Continue:
29.
Merlin is having too much fun in this chair.
First of all, it's high-backed, plush red velvet-covered, complete with curved armrests and small wheels that roll smoothly across the floor. Second of all, Merlin found a button a little while ago and now the entirety of his bottom and lower back are, strangely enough, toasty warm. Probably one of the most sophisticated butt-rests he's ever rested his on.
But third and most important of all, you can still spin on it.
Meanwhile Sefa seems on the verge of either bursting into laughter or having a nervous breakdown, watching him. She sits on one of the more normal-looking chairs, across the dark mahogany desk, clutching a handbag tightly. "Yes, Arthur really likes that chair—" She both breathes a laugh and winces as Merlin finds more buttons, tilting and adjusting the chair's angle with disclosed glee.
"Sorry," Merlin sobers, still grinning. It's obvious she's worried about what Arthur would think, seeing anyone play with his mighty sophisticated, probably-worth-Merlin's-flat chair. But Merlin can't find it in himself to care.
Sefa smiles tentatively back for a moment, and then quickly looks behind her—like she's waiting for someone. "Eira left in a hurry," Merlin says offhand, but Sefa doesn't seem to hear. "Sefa?"
She whips her head back, alarmed. "What? What is it?"
"Oh, uh, nothing," Merlin says awkwardly, but quickly changes his mind. "Actually. You don't happen to know Eira, do you?"
"Um—who?" Sefa looks supremely uncomfortable.
"Eira, the maid. She brought us in here, less than an hour ago." Actually, it might be longer than that now. Merlin's spent most of his time so far more entertaining himself than Sefa—though likely its consequently kept her amused—part exploring and part ridiculing everything in this room.
Because come on, really, who actually hangs banners of your company logo from the ceiling, or ceremonial swords and huge painted portraits on the wall of your office? (He feels sorry for Gwen—on a side note, who likes having a huge, almost life size portrait of yourself where your husband takes all his business colleagues?) And now the high-backed, made-for-a-modern-king chair he's recently discovered is just icing on this ridiculous, Pendragon custom-made cake.
"I've never met her before," Sefa answers rather quickly to his question, and just as quickly continues, "Or you, though you seem to be rather familiar with the Pendragons."
Merlin shrugs. "Not really."
"That's . . . surprising. Given how they act around you."
"I get on people's nerves easily," Merlin waves her off, making an effort not to ask what exactly she meant by her statement. He probably doesn't want to know.
After that he manages to keep up a light stream of conversation on safe subjects—Sefa loves bagels and hot chocolate as well, August is her favorite month, how long are the clouds going to keep graying the days before they see a bit of sky again, Gwen really is the sweetest person you'll ever meet—whilst Sefa syncs up Arthur's schedule, Merlin peering over her shoulder and slightly enjoying watching one of the more menial jobs of business getting done.
She keeps glancing over her shoulder at him with shy smiles, their faces in closer proximity each time. Merlin doesn't even register what that might be about until Arthur finally graces them with his presence, pulling excuses out of his arse and sniffing at Merlin's not-so-subtle jibes about the room, and Merlin makes to leave. Then Sefa's face betrays a hint of disappointment, and he realizes a girl might have been flirting with him for a whole two hours and he hadn't even noticed.
Morgana has desensitized him.
Speaking of, he runs into the very woman as well as Gwen outside the house, after Merlin has assaulted two flights of stairs with his suitcase and walked out into the shivery weather. Leon has left to get his car and bring it up to the circle-drive in front of the house—where those innocuous bed of lilies grow right by the porch, bright and flourishing. Where Morgana now stands looking formidably down at them with a bucket of liquid, Gwen acting as a shield.
". . . Can't, you know Arthur would be furious," Gwen is saying, arms spread-eagle as if that will protect the flowers better. Her eyes are wide with fear. "There's absolutely no good reason to—"
"I don't do anything without reason! Now get out of the way!" Morgana shoots back, holding the bucket up in warning. Gwen gasps and puts her hands out, as if to catch any of the liquid.
"Is everything alright?" Merlin says, and they both jump. Morgana looks at him in what might be fear, whilst Gwen looks just relieved.
"Morgana has decided it would be good fun to kill the lilies with some bleach," she says in a voice with much more confidence than before—possibly because now she isn't the only one here to think eradicating flowers is a bit insane. Gwen puts her hands on her hips, and Morgana huffs.
"I said it was best I kill the lilies, not that I would morbidly enjoy such a thing," she retorts, color heating her cheeks.
"And why is it best to murder flowers?" Merlin asks rather undiplomatically—Gwen smirks and Morgana seethes.
"Look, Merlin," she says, marching over to him. "You're off the clock right now. How about you just stay out of this?"
Merlin opens his mouth to answer, but closes it. Upon seeing her face closer up, he can tell this is not some joke. Her brow is drawn; mouth tight, eyes wide with some unknown worry. Unsure, the complete opposite of her demeanor last he's seen her.
"What's going on?" he asks finally, and it isn't an accusatory question but a soft inquiry.
Morgana shakes her head in defeat, face gently morphing from panic to despair. "I have to stop it from happening," she says in a soft, disconnected voice that seems a bit familiar. Her green eyes bore into his, like he would know what she means.
But just then Leon pulls up, and Merlin finds himself backing hastily away, onto the drive and into the car and not saying a thing in answer. Repulsed by the haunted knowing in her gaze as she watches him drive away.
30.
"He doesn't want you sleeping with her. Simple as that," Will says around the chip in his mouth. He dips another in sauce as he continues, "There's no other possibilities here, if she's the sugartits she sounds like. You know—Oye!" He scowls, and Merlin grins because for once his aim did not fail him.
Will wipes the bit of buttery broccoli off his cheek. "What was that for? . . . Sugartits? You just described her like she was some bloody goddess—" He stops, seeing Merlin's fork poised to catapult another chunk of broccoli his way. "Fine." He raises his hands in surrender. "If you want to be in denial about it."
"I did not say she was—I didn't say anything. She's just, not, ugly, is all."
Will seems to have forgotten about the poised fork. He leans forward, quirks an eyebrow at Merlin. "You're smitten, mate."
His smug grin quickly disappears, however—smacked off by another piece of broccoli.
"You two are going to get us kicked out before I even touch my food," Elena rounds the corner, scooting Will further into the booth with a huff. She's still wearing formal attire, having come straight from work. "That waitress over there is about to kill you both," she says, tucking unruly blond hair behind her ear and gesturing behind her.
Merlin looks over her shoulder as the couple kiss in greeting, and immediately ducks his head when he makes eye contact with the waitress. She most definitely is glaring daggers, not even attempting to pay attention to her ordering customer as her dark eyes narrow at him.
"Merlin started it," Will defends, but he's smiling at her like a lovesick fool and Merlin can't even retort back to such an expression. "How was work?"
"Long and dull and finally over," she shrugs, and immediately digs into his food. Will ordered double of their usual, and he watches in amusement as she groans at the taste. "Mmmm, ssoooouuungry."
The two complement each other and this is just proof, Merlin thinks with mostly amusement. While it is a bit on the nasty side to have two dinner partners constantly speaking with food in their mouth, it was even more awkward back when Will would bring a sophisticated girl to dinner. In the past Merlin has silently agreed with many a girl's complaints, while having to outwardly approve of Will's philosophy: Real men don't worry about table manners.
Of course, Merlin never agrees with him in private, but a date is a date.
With Elena there's no such formality anymore, however, and Merlin says what he likes. Which is why when Will says, "Merlin, tell Elena how Mr. Boss is cock-blocking you from his sister," Merlin rolls his eyes and says, "Piss off."
"Morgana?" Elena says through her food, and raises an eyebrow. Merlin raises one right back.
"You know about her?"
She clears her throat hastily. "Well, kind of, I guess. If you know about Arthur, chance is you find out about Morgana soon enough."
"Why's that?" Will asks, "just 'cause their siblings?"
"Not just. He . . . they just hate each other, is all." Elena shrugs.
"You mean brother-sister hate? They seemed to get along the whole week I was there." Merlin concentrates hard on any conversations between Morgana and Arthur, not remembering anything remotely contentious.
Elena's eyes widen. "You mean to say she showed up there? At the estate?"
Now Merlin is really confused. "No, she lives there."
"HOLY SHITE." Elena slams her hands on the table, almost stands up. Half the restaurant is staring at her, but she's only looking in shock at Merlin. "You mean to say—"
"Excuse me, but there've been repeated complaints about this table, and if you can't please contain yourselves we'll have to ask you to leave." It's the waitress, whose smug voice is about as rude as her unprofessional scowl.
Will rolls his eyes. "Sure, sorry." The waitress nods stiffly, and when she leaves Elena laughs in a hushed breath.
"Whoops," she grins, "didn't mean to freak like that. But Merlin, you have to understand that's pretty much incredible. Pretty much impossible."
"Why?"
Elena shakes her head in wonder. "Well, when I worked for Camelot Industries—for however short of a period—I got the newcomer's debrief on the situation. About Gormause Inc., the company that had almost bought out all of Camelot's investors, apparently. Mr. Pendragon, his father, was trying to diffuse the whole situation when I was in there as Arthur's secretary."
She takes a bite, and Merlin waits impatiently until she swallows, for once wishing the woman wouldn't hold back for politeness' sake. "Anyways," she wipes her mouth, "the whole thing was made even worse by the fact that Morgana had teamed up with that investment firm. And I don't just mean business-wise. Apparently when she was sixteen she ran off away from home, for whatever reason, and didn't speak to Arthur or their father once for two years. Mr. Pendragon tried to track her down, couldn't find her. She's Arthur's half-sister, and got into contact with her own relatives or something and had been living with them.
"Then she came back broken up with about a dozen addictions, all sweet and apologetic, immediately getting a job in her daddy's company the second after recovering, worked her way up for two years and—just like that—sold almost the whole company out to Gormause Inc. Mr. Pendragon had a heart attack over the whole thing. Then she switched over to there, which was right before I came in, and some relative of Arthur's replaced her." Elena chews off half a chip, shaking her head. "Let's just say, when Mr. Arse-hole wasn't giving me grief over my cold, he was bemoaning about Gormause Incorporated and his 'witch of a sister.'"
Merlin blinks. Swallows. Blinks again. ". . . What?"
"She sounds like a real keeper, Merlin," Will smirks.
"It all sounded pretty hilarious," Elena laughs, though it doesn't sound very sincere. "Especially for me, trying to imagine how much of my life I could stand living with two Pendragon males—they probably deserved everything she's done to them. I don't know how any one can stand six weeks just working for them, which is how long I lasted. Then again, Guinevere Leodegrance has managed pretty well." Elena fidgets a little after saying this, smile completely gone. Will looks at her worriedly, but she waves off his concern.
"She's probably just a sponge," Will tries to console, and Elena rolls her eyes. Merlin doesn't dispute it. He's too busy running through conversations in his head, trying to make things add up.
Most of what does add up is Morgana's hatred for Uther. If the things she said to Merlin about her father are true, maybe this all fits together somehow.
"I'll probably never know the true extent of the suffering he's spread across Albion; I don't want to know. I barely escaped this prison of a house with my soul intact—and even then he tried to track me down, brainwash me still. Be glad you never had to meet him, Merlin."
It fits the story Elena's told well enough. And yet, it looks now as if Morgana has made choices in the past that impacted many for the worse, as well. Is that why, when Gwen slipped up the first night at dinner, teasing Morgana about being as bad as Uther, it carried such a sharp sting?
What was almost a passing exchange recalls suddenly in his head, so miniscule and yet now so telling:
"I'm positive you're not a horrible mother, Morgana," Merlin shakes his head. He remembers her offense Monday night and adds, "Or horrible at all really."
At that Morgana's eyes flash. She ruffles the top of Mordred's curls, the ghost of a smile still on her face. "Opinions are that—opinions," she says breezily.
What did she mean? That Merlin had no idea what he was talking about? Obviously, there are people even now who remember her as 'horrible,' like Elena. Morgana must have laughed at him on the inside then, how he acted like he knows her so well and could just tell how wonderful she is. When in reality, he obviously knows nothing about the woman. Merlin feels like an idiot. And a little sick to the stomach.
"I think I'm going to head out," Merlin decides aloud, pulling out his wallet quickly and ignoring Will's flabbergasted look. "I need an early night in."
"What? You've hardly touched your baked potato—except to fling vegetable at me."
"You guys finish it for me, right?" Merlin grins at them, whilst waving over a waitress. He can just pay for the food, head home, take a long night's rest and hopefully never wake up—
Bollocks. It's that waitress.
"Is there another problem?" she sniffs, still glaring as bad as before. Merlin smiles as innocently as he can back up at her.
"No, I just need to leave early before my friends here. Can I have my bill, please?"
"Of course. Your friends sure they don't want to head out soon, too?" Her voice is dripping with sweetness.
Elena, who's leaning literally right over her plate and has just piled a large amount of roast in her mouth, smiles and says, "Nope, fink wuurgoodofer 'earnngg." The waitress winces at the disgusting sloppy sounds that accompany her words, and then Will smiles too, revealing a very large piece of lettuce stuck between his teeth. The woman's eyes widen comically, and she practically runs away.
Merlin has never been more proud to call these two friends.
A/N: Woah, its been way too long my friends. Hope you're all great, and enjoying life, and all that.
As for news, the next few chapters reveal some big stuff. Oh, and for those members reading, I'm going to do that thing again where I PM you a snippet from the upcoming chapter as a treat - because for once I'm a little ahead again! Crazy right? Review and encourage me - because, that's just a nice thing to do, PLUS I always love to hear from ya.
Cheers!