by GR Griffin
“On a pretty tight leash. I’m not a baby.” His eyes narrowed at the man opposite him. He noticed the way Merlin’s serious composure melted for a moment, a cheeky smirk ghosting over his features. Amusement was evident.
“Stop that.” Arthur snapped touchily.
Raising his eyebrows, Merlin forged naivety rather convincingly. For a moment Arthur doubted whether Merlin had been smirking a moment ago or not.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sighing in exasperation, Arthur clasped his hands together.
“Let’s just get on with this, shall we?”
The irritating druid in front of him frowned.
“You should be grateful that I offered to question you, some of the Elders wanted to have you bound for this.” He explained nonchalantly.
An unpleasant shiver ran up his spine at the memory of the Elders. Choking on the air, Arthur’s eyes widened as he processed the words. Had he just said-
“-Excuse me?”
Merlin shrugged as if this kind of thing was a common occurrence, and continued blithely. His fingers absently traced the hem of the rug between them.
“I don’t blame them though, after everything your father has done.”
Wincing at the insult, Arthur scowled. He shot Merlin a derisive grin, cocking his head to one side.
“Oh, and here you told me that you were peaceful people!” he snorted.
“We are.” Merlin calmly stated, eyes frosted over with sorrow.
He chewed his lip contemplatively, clasping his hands together tightly. With a laboured sigh, he met Arthur’s eyes.
“You have to remember that this has never happened before. Druids have spent their whole lives here safe from the threats of your world. And now you of all people are here in Ealdor,” averting his eyes with a bitter laugh, he shook his head.
“They’re scared of you.”
Arthur was a little shocked at the statement. The druids – magical beings who could no doubt obliterate him in seconds with a spell – were scared of him? Then he understood why. Arthur Pendragon was a name, a name that held power in Camelot. For years he had just been a name, seeping around Albion like an undying rumour. Now he was here, and so was his father. They most likely assumed that laboratories would be springing up all over Albion. To ban captivity of the Albion druids had actually been Arthur’s first proposition to the project, not that he would admit this to anybody. The last thing he wanted was for more people in the Business to take Valiant and Cedric’s side.
“Well they shouldn’t be.” He replied. “We’re not here to oppress the druids.”
Leaning forwards, Merlin pouted. Arthur deliberately steered his vision away from those plump lips. The amber hue in the room was really doing magical things to the druid’s features.
“What exactly are you here for then?”
Ruffling a hand through his tousled golden hair, the man met those sapphire orbs. Now the interrogation had begun. He watched Merlin stiffen and become more corporal in stature.
“Our world is on the brink of exhaustion. We’ve stripped it bare, destroyed ecosystems beyond repair, exploited all our natural resources-”
“-So you’re here to make the same mistakes?” Merlin interjected.
“-No.” Arthur pointed a finger at the man whose eyes darkened. “That’s not what I’m saying let me finish-”
“-Strip Albion bare, destroy our ecosystems, exploit our natural resources-”
Now Merlin was just putting words into his mouth. He knew exactly why, he was only trying to protect his people. Merlin was future leader of the clan. He had a responsibility to his people. Though Arthur noticed a flicker in his eyes, similar to his own. There was this pleading desire for acceptance, acceptance from his father. Frustrated, Arthur raised his voice.
“-All we intend to do is mine a reasonable area for oil. We’re already looking at other power sources.”
Arthur let his words fade out abruptly, realising he had stumbled blindly into a trap. What other power sources meant was blatantly obvious, most of all to the druids. There were after all, the other power source. Shit. Biting back a growl, Merlin forebodingly speared the man with his eyes, jagged shards for pupils. Arthur was surprised to still be physically intact for his insensitive brashness.
“Like magic extraction I’m guessing? Do you-“ getting to his feet, Merlin paced back and forth. How could this man sit here with such calmness, knowing what his father’s company – his future company – were doing? Brusquely he stopped, melancholy splashed over his face. “Do you even know what goes on down there? Because I’ve seen it, I’ve seen-”
“-No.” Arthur quickly said, voice hollow. “No I don’t.” Judging by Merlin’s tormented, haunted eyes he didn’t want to see the labs anytime soon.
Resignedly, Merlin channelled his rage and sat back down, reminding himself that his father would not lose control of emotions like this.
“If you did, maybe you wouldn’t be so quick to obey Uther’s every command.”
“I’m not a robot Merlin. I make my own choices.”
Merlin raised his eyebrows, gesturing doubt.
“I don’t believe that for a second.” A laugh erupted from his mouth, hardly synonymous with joy and happiness. It was as if he was musing over a sick joke only he knew the punch line to. “And have you even asked our permission? Or does you father have the audacity to assume that he can take whatever he wants because we’re uncultured savages?”
Unable to form a swift response to Merlin’s sarcastic words, Arthur remained silent. He hadn’t thought about it this way. What did give them to right to just parade into Albion? This whole project was lacking in principle and morals, Arthur already knew that.
“What if we appealed?”
Now that did break Arthur’s silence. In amusement, he smirked at the words.
“Don’t take this wrong way,” he began, incapable of concealing his own humour. “But I hardly believe the druids could make an appeal.”
Glowering at Arthur tetchily, Merlin dropped the subject. He had recognised when the words left his mouth that appealing would be useless. Nowadays all human rights organisations excluded the druids. There was nothing that could help them, other than themselves.
“What are your views on all of this?”
Confused, the blonde narrowed his eyes.
“On what? Appealing-“
“-No.” Merlin wailed, holding a hand to his temple in vexation. “On the ‘Albion Project’.”
Unsure exactly how Merlin knew the name for the project, Arthur hid his surprise. He searched for a diplomatic answer he could regurgitate with ease under pressure that comprised of big words to disguise its lack of meaning.
“I think it is the perfect opportunity for us to try and salvage the energy crisis without bringing disturbance to the druids.”
Merlin shot him a deadpan look, able to see through his obvious bullshit.
“Your views, not your father’s.”
Blinking irritably, Arthur leant forwards a little and spoke.
“I think it is the perfect opportunity for us to try and salvage the energy crisis without bringing disturbance to the druids.”
Choosing to ignore the rather flippant reply, Merlin frowned.
“Has Camelot even thought about druid welfare at all?” he then scoffed, mentally scolding himself. What a stupid thing to say. “Not that you actually care about druid welfare anyway, you do own the labs after all-”
“-Actually, I ensured that measures would be set in place so the druid’s would be less affected by our stay.” Arthur said, almost vacantly.
A surprised smile lit up Merlin’s face, his eyes wide. For a few seconds he studied Arthur silently. Whilst part of him wanted desperately to ask why and discover the motives for this unusual behaviour, he reminded himself that this man had the power to change Camelot. But he had not changed anything. His composure returned, and he began to speak more passively to the
man.
“What did you think of Albion when you first saw it?”
That definitely was not a question Merlin had received from the Elders. Nonetheless, curiosity had overpowered him. Arthur sent him a pointed look, clearly perplexed.
“What kind of ridiculous question is that? What is that going to prove?!”
“I want to know,” Merlin urgently replied insistently. “It’s important.” To me, were the unspoken words reverberating through the room.
“I’ve grown up to dull buildings, an extravagant city life full of people who worry too much, and eat too much, and don’t live their lives to their full potential. We failed to embrace our world and enjoy the tranquil lifestyle it offered. We are driven by hunger and power, forever removing any trace of that world. This world…it’s…” sighing Arthur searched for an appropriate word.
“It’s different, beautiful. The druids have managed to live alongside nature. And I envy your world, I truly do.”
Merlin seemed absorbed in those words. For a second the pair sat calmly, neither speaking. It was almost as if they were old friends, dwelling comfortably in silence together, both thinking about the same thing – just from completely different perspectives. A small smile slipped over Arthur’s lips, old friends – now that was stupid. He highly doubted that he and Merlin could ever get along. The druid opposite him met his eyes briefly, and offered a hesitant smile, as if believing to show any signs of welcoming was clandestine.
“Send my father back in,” he said distantly. “I need to consult with him.”
Consult. Arthur groaned. How long was this process going to last?
“Can’t you just tell me if I passed the questions?”
Wryly, Merlin cast his eyes elsewhere.
“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ cheerfully, indulging in the annoyance growing behind the other man’s eyes.
“Why not?!” Arthur exclaimed indignantly.
“I need to consult with my father.”
Standing up reluctantly, Arthur huffed.
“Y-y-you!” he stuttered, watching Merlin’s lips upturn. “You’re insufferable!”
“Watch your tongue dollophead, you don’t want points deducted now do you?”
Rolling his eyes, choosing not to retaliate, Arthur stomped out the room. He was completely oblivious to the blinding grin on Merlin’s face, clearly entertained by his childish sulking.
♦☼♦
To say Arthur felt awkward, knowing that behind the wooden door Balinor and Merlin were discussing his fate, would be an understatement. He felt even more awkward when Balinor opened the door and invited him back inside. Merlin had resorted to standing, hands held behind his back. He failed to meet Arthur’s eyes, gaze never leaving his father. His father shut the wooden door behind them, standing beside his son.
“You passed the questions.” Balinor said simply, not offering any form of congratulations to the relieved blonde. Arthur glanced over to Merlin, unable to hide his smile. Unexpectedly, Balinor turned to Merlin.
“Whilst you are here, Merlin is going to teach you our ways of living, he must go everywhere you go.”
Eyes wide, hands outstretched, Merlin audibly groaned in protest, Arthur couldn’t help himself from smirking, then realising what this meant. He was to spend every single moment of his time in Ealdor with….Merlin. He too embraced annoyance.
“Father!” Arthur was a little stunned at the ferocity in this word. “No. B-why-please why me?!” The clumsy Merlin stuttered, shooting a look of displeasure over to Arthur’s direction.
“You bought him here, he is your responsibility.” Balinor replied calmly, nudging his son towards Arthur. Reluctantly, the pair stood beside each other, facing their leader.
“So Merlin, when do we start?” Arthur whispered in the druid’s ear tauntingly; Merlin sighed, too engulfed in self-pity to reply.
“First the Pendragon must prove that his intentions are pure. He must pass a second test, a test that only he can chose.”
Balinor’s words irritated Arthur Pendragon even more. How many tests was he going to have to pass to prove himself and be accepted into the clan? His father’s mission seemed increasingly impossible, harder to reach. Clicking his tongue, not caring that it was incredibly rude, Arthur raised is eyebrows.
“And how exactly do I chose this test?”
“It will come to you, in a vision.”
Holding a hand to the bridge of his nose, Arthur frowned. A vision, really? When the druid beside him subtly shoved him with his shoulder, Arthur resolved to snigger at the words, taking a moment to compose himself. Balinor’s gaze was lethal, clearly unimpressed with the new addition to their clan.
“-Okay.” Arthur said exasperatedly. “I’ll just make myself comfortable shall I?”
“You may have Merlin’s bed for the night-”
“-No he may not-!!” Merlin roared, crinkling his nose depreciatively.
Anger flushed through him. Not only was he to babysit Arthur Pratdragon, but he had to give up his bed for him too?! How much more was he going to have to do? He met his father’s intense gaze, laced with a rare fury. The look was enough to dispel any anger. Instantly, Merlin felt the tension in his body melt away, his shoulders slump. With a dramatic sigh, he nodded gruffly in acceptance, knowing he could not defy his father’s orders on this. He had taken Arthur to Ealdor; it seemed logical that he should be responsible for all of this. Turning to Arthur, he met those sapphire eyes in a displeased glare. Arthur stared back challengingly. Then in unison, the pair theatrically turned their heads away from each other, and their bodies for that matter too. Merlin’s expression revealed apathy towards the whole thing, Arthur’s exposed blatant irritation, mouthing words to himself silently.
♦☼♦
“Please,” Merlin said sardonically as the pair entered a new room. It too was carved in the hollow of a large tree, a little bigger than the previous room. But it was no less dull or unspectacular. A mattress sat in the corner. Gesturing over to it, Merlin shut the door behind them, igniting the candles with an effortless flick of his wrists.
“Make yourself at home.”
Sitting on the bed, Arthur flinched, screwing his face up in disapproval. Noticing his reaction, Merlin folded his arms across his chest.
“Something wrong…sire?” the mocking tone in his voice merely spurred Arthur on.
“Your bed isn’t very comfortable.” He observed aloud, not realising how ungrateful and spoilt he sounded until he had already spoken, and it was too late to change what he had said. For reasons Arthur didn’t understand, Merlin’s reaction was not anger, or annoyance, it was sadness. He reached over the mattress, eyes softened, voice low.
“Gaius wove this mattress himself,” Arthur gaped at the name, but remained silent. Surely Merlin didn’t mean…Gaius-Gaius, did he? Then the sadness morphed into rage, and the druid scowled at Arthur.
“You insult my bed, you insult and old friend.” Pause, rage fizzled back into sadness. It was obvious that Merlin was emotionally conflicted, unable to fully express himself. “A friend who may well be dead.”
That was enough to confirm Arthur’s suspicions. Overpowering nausea flooded his system. He sat up abruptly on the bed beside Merlin, shock plastered over his face. Gaius was a druid, and yet that didn’t change anything, because he had been there for Arthur and Morgana their whole life. He had never once given any indication to hurt anybody, or corrupt Camelot, despite the company discriminating against his very kind. But Gaius…Merlin knew Gaius too.
“…when you said you were looking a friend, the day we met.” Arthur breathed in despondent awareness of what really happened that day, eyes frosted over with something Merlin failed to identify. “You meant Gaius.”
Not registering Arthur’s shock or confusion, Merlin nodded sombrely. His thoughts drifted to the ageing man, his baldhead, his bruised skin. Maybe Arthur knew if Gaius was here, maybe if he got on the right side of the prat he could break him out? He wondered
what condition the man was in, was he still alive? Hell. He hadn’t even thought about Gaius since Arthur Pendragon had arrived. Guilt swathed over his complexion, and he held a hand to his throbbing head.
“Gaius has been part of the Ealdor clan for his whole life, he has been there for my father, and for me.” Then Merlin noticed that there was something more than curiosity behind Arthur’s eyes, and he recalled the way the blonde had spoken of Gaius – as if they too were acquainted. Standing up, Merlin’s eyes flashed with hurt.
“You…you know Gaius?”
Averting his gaze, Arthur held a hand to his chin pensively, a fond smile brushed over his face.
“….He’s…he was there for my father, and for me.”
Without hesitation, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and one of the ceramic pots in the corners of the room darted towards Arthur. Ducking, Arthur fell off the bed clumsily, the shards of the pot smashing against the wall behind him. Merlin lunged forwards furiously, hot tears dripping down his cheeks. Arthur pushed himself out of Merlin’s grasp, reaching for the dagger in his hands for protection. Their eyes met, and Merlin cupped his mouth for a moment, dwelling in melancholy. This was…Arthur had known Gaius, probably as well as he did. He had been there, when it had happened. He could have stopped this. After a moment, when it became clear that Merlin was not going to hurl another object at him viciously, Arthur put the dagger back into his pocket, staring at the druid before him. Merlin didn’t want to reveal such raw emotions in front of the enemy, the enemy he is destined for. But he found himself unable to hide the wave of upset crashing over his skin, especially with the newfound knowledge which just made the whole thing worse.
“Your father has a funny way of showing his gratitude. And you are just the same-” Merlin eventually whispered, wiping his eyes.
“-No.” Arthur snapped, he was not going through this again. Morgana had ruthlessly accused him of this, he couldn’t withstand another attack. “I didn’t-”
