Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Once upon a time, in-”

“Oh, stop with that, Morgana.”

“They’re kids, Arthur,” Morgana gestured toward the two children, sitting eagerly in their beds, “They need a good fairytale.”

“It’s not a fairytale, if it’s true,” Arthur retorted, with a smile.

“Why, of course it is, dear brother. That’s how all the best legends start!” Morgana sent a playful wink the children’s way, who both giggled in response.

“Tell us, tell us, Aunt Morgana!” The younger of the two cheered.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Arthur chastised, lightly.

Morgana started again.

“Once upon a time, in a faraway land called, northern England, there lived a man and a woman in love. They settled down in a small village named, Ealdor, where the the woman gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. His name? Merlin.

Both little Merlin’s mother, Hunith, and his father, Balinor, loved Merlin very much. He was their little miracle.

Soon, little Merlin was big enough for Hunith to return to teaching at the local primary school. All the school girls cooed at and fawned over the little toddler whenever Hunith brought him by.

When the new neighbors moved next door, they brought with them their son, a little boy named Will. He and Merlin became fast friends, always getting into trouble together-”

“Sounds like somebody I know...” Arthur arched his eyebrows toward the older of the two children in bed. The little boy smiled shyly at Arthur.

Morgana cleared her throat for dramatic effect, “As I was saying..”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Yes, do continue.” Arthur sat down by the headboard of the bed, settling in for the long haul.

“By now, little Merlin was not so little. In fact, he was old enough to accompany his father on the weekends. Balinor was the only veterinarian in the little village of Ealdor, therefore, he was constantly making house calls for the local farmers for their livestock. Merlin took to the animals immediately, caring for each and every one, with tenderness and love.

“He has a gift,” Balinor reported to his wife, after a day of working alongside Merlin.

“Just like his father,” Hunith remarked, with a smile.

And just like his father, Merlin loved music. Balinor loved to sing, terribly off-key, mind you, in the evenings, while doing the dishes or sitting with Merlin on his lap.

When Hunith would teased him that he was offkey, Balinor would exclaim: “The gods gave me a voice, why not use it?”

Merlin would giggle and join in his father’s song, off-key together.

“Just like his father,” Hunith would say, with a fond shake of her head.

But anyone who knew her, knew Hunith loved music, dearly. She would dance with Merlin around their small living room- One, two, three. One, two, three, One, two, three. One.

Laughing in the quiet manner of hers, vibrant nonetheless. And Balinor would look on, happy in the strength of their familial love. For both Hunith and Balinor’s parents had passed and all they had left was each other. And that was enough.

But life doesn’t let you choose when when enough is enough. And so, sorrow struck the Emrys family when Hunith suddenly became very ill.

Merlin cried by her bedside, as Balinor spoke with the doctor.

“My dear boy, come closer,” Hunith called to Merlin, “I want to tell you something.”

Merlin hiccuped through his tears. He was ten now, the big double digits, and yet, he felt so terribly old in that moment.

Hunith reached out a hand and brushed away Merlin’s tears, with a sad smile.

“I want to tell you that I love you, Merlin. You know that, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes, mam.”

“And another thing. Merlin, you must always remember: In life, there are two sides to the same coin.”

Merlin hiccuped again.

“You’ll remember that, won’t you, Merlin?”

“Yes, mam.” Merlin promised. At ten years old, he knew what was wrong. He understood enough.

“In life, there are two sides to the same coin. Always, remember, Merlin.”

“I promise, mam.” Merlin could sense this was important to his mother. He repeated it, again and again, in his mind. Two sides to the same coin. Two sides to the same coin.

“I love you, my darling. My little miracle, I love you.”

That night, Merlin’s mother passed. And day by day, so did time. The pain in Merlin’s little heart lessened, as his heart kept growing. Soon, Merlin was twelve. He still didn’t understand what his mother’s words meant, but he cherished it like his happiest memory, as his mother had said it with a hope shining in her eyes that Merlin would never forget.

Merlin turned fifteen and became the tallest in his class. (Will was very touchy around the subject.) Life continued on and Merlin brought fresh flowers to his mother’s favorite spot every year on her birthday.

Balinor had taken his wife’s loss hard, but he kept her smile in his mind’s eye and looked to his son, in times of great sadness. However, times were not as they had been and the money for Merlin’s education was coming up short. Balinor had already extended his clientele reach outside of Ealdor, but it wasn’t enough. He decided to reach out to an old family friend.

Gaius Wilson was like an older brother to Balinor and Hunith. Growing up in the same little village as them, they were long time friends. Since moving to London for his studies, Gaius had become an obstetrician. He was renown in his field and had more than enough money for his humble lifestyle of one.

Gaius invited Balinor and his son to live with him in London. (The pay was better, after all.) Balinor agreed, for the sake of his boy’s future. He gave up his beloved wife’s house, his personal clientele relations, and moved himself and an optimistic Merlin into Gaius’ abode. Balinor humbled himself to work as a lowly assistant to a top veterinarian in London, a job he got with Gaius’ connections and best of intentions.

Merlin didn’t fit in easily with his new London peers. However, through practice and determination, Merlin found that little was out of his realm of possibilities.

One night, talk at the dinner table between the three of them (a rare occurrence due to scheduling) turned to a comforting sort of topic: gossip.

“I heard through school that Mrs. Pennybrook is getting fired!”

“I heard through Geoffrey at the bookstore, that the Monmouth library is closing.”

Merlin and Balinor turned, expectantly, toward Gaius.

Gaius blinked.

“I heard ...that it’s not good to spread rumours,” Gaius said.

Merlin and Balinor exchanged looks. Then:

“Come on, Gaius.”

“Please, Gaius!”

“Oh. alright,” Gaius said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I heard that a woman recently became widowed, but she wasn’t born here and never filed for citizenship so she’s being deported and separated from her two teenage sons.”

Well, it was Merlin and Balinor’s turn to blink at that. But eventually the conversation moved on and all was forgotten.

The topic of the woman came up again, one night a few days later, when Merlin was heading to bed and he overheard his father and Gaius talking.

“Is it really true?” Balinor was asking. “An old friend of yours has no home and is being separated from her children?”

“Well, she was more like a mutual acquaintance than an old friend,” Gaius clarified.

“Still. She has nowhere to go? And two sons?”

“Yes, but-”

“Her late husband left her nothing?”

“No, it seems he was in great debt.”

“No family?”

“It appears not.”

“Then we ought to do something, Gaius.”

“What did you have in mind?” Gaius cautiously asked.

“I don’t know,” Balinor sighed, sitting down at the table. “I only know that Hunith would have done something, anything, for someone in need, such as this widow is.”

A pause.

“You know I’m right, Gaius.”

“Yes, I believe you are. But, we can’t simply take in every needy soul in all of Great Britain,” Gaius softly pointed out.

“Not every soul,” Balinor agreed. “Just the ones we already know.”

Gaius sighed. He knew his old friend was stubborn, often stuck in his ways. In this, he had already lost.

Balinor sat his son down a few days later to tell him the news: He was marrying the widow so she could stay in the country with her sons. Merlin did his best to act surprised. No one called him out on his charade.

And so, preparations were made for the widow and her two teenage sons’ arrival. Gaius bought a small house on the cheaper side of town for the new family to live in. Beds, blankets, and boxes were acquired. Merlin and his father packed up the little that they had and moved into the new house, promising to visit Gaius twice a week. And finally, the day of their great arrival came.

Merlin muttered his mother’s words under his breath, “In life, there are two sides to the same coin,” before stepping out to greet his new family-to-be with his father.

Morgause De Boise and her two sons, Valiant and Cedric, brought with them two trucks of furniture and another just for clothes.

Valiant was a tall, thick muscled teenager, built like one of those big American footballer players. He had short cropped hair and dark beady eyes, with a tongue constantly wetting his lips, like a snake. He wore a tight green shirt and jeans. He was confident, striding out the cab door, in a manner his brother couldn’t quite manage.

Cedric was jittering, in comparison. Only looking up through his long brown bangs, barely moving his mouth, that was already surrounded by coarse brown facial hair, when he spoke his greeting. He wore an oversized hoodie with dark brown sweatpants (?). You couldn’t tell from the clothes he wore, but he was thin, uncomfortably so, and shorter than his older brother by a foot.

A pale high-heeled foot, which was the first thing Merlin saw of Morgause De Boise herself. (After her fluffy black cat, that is.)

Morgause was dressed in tight silver dress, long blond curls pinned up in an elaborate twist. Her blue eyes were piercing and her smile was the width of her attire. She took her time walking up the steps to meet them, looking around as if she had Father Time himself pinned underneath her thumb.

Merlin’s future step-brothers wandered into the house after a quick greeting, looking around and evaluating it for themselves. However, Morgause stopped on the top step, leading to the house’s open front door. When she spoke, her words were precise and intentional.

“I understand that you are a good friend of Gaius Wilson’s. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you have opened up your home and your heart to me and my boys, Mr. Emrys.”

Merlin’s father smiled kindly, “Please, call me Balinor. We are to be married, after all.”

“If you’re sure... This would be a lifetime of commitment. You would not be able to marry anyone else while this arrangement holds.” Morgause clarified.

This time when Balinor smiled, it was touched with sadness. “Yes, I understand. However, should I love another, I believe my late-wife would want it to be you.”

Morgause’s brows twitched. “And why is that?”

“I believe that you were put in my path so that I could give you and your boys a home.”

Morgause’s expression softened, “Do you believe in destiny, Balinor?”

“Yes, in fact, I do.”

Merlin watched as his father and future step-mother smiled at each other, before Balinor turned toward Merlin.

“Oh, I’ve been so rude,” Morgause apologized, “You must be Merlin.”

She extended a perfectly manicured hand in Merlin’s direction, watching him as if trying to determine his next move in the process.

Merlin shook it, politely, smiling his brightest smile as to ease her wariness.

“Shall I give you the tour?” Balinor asked.

Morgause nodded, smile tight again.

That night before bed, Balinor took Merlin aside.

“So?”

“So, what, da?”

“So, what did you think of them, Merlin?”

“I- I think they’re fine?”

Balinor sighed, “I’m mad for doing this, aren’t I?”

“No, da. I know you’re only doing this for mam. I think she’d like that you’re moving on.”

“You think I should go through with it, then?”

Merlin thought about it. He thought hard. At sixteen, he well understood how big this decision was.

Valiant seemed like the stereotypical footballer, with a chip on his shoulder the size of his massive head. But besides that, he seemed harmless. Cedric appeared even less threatening and Morgause- Well, Morgause, Merlin thought, is still mourning the death of her husband. She seems weary of an gifting hand, alert and protective, but there’s nothing innately evil about her.

And so, Merlin replied, “Yes, da. I think you should.”

Morgause and Balinor were married the next month. (Legal papers took time and all that fuss.)
Before long, their little house was thoroughly transformed by the three De Boise occupants. The closets were filled, the rooms were littered, and all the walls were repainted and fully decorated.
But between the house’s running expenses, the three boys’ education, and Morgause’s lavish taste, money, once again, became an issue.

Gaius, of course, offered to pay for Merlin’s education, but even with that reluctantly accepted offer, costs were piling up.

Balinor broached the subject with Morgause, one night after his shift.

“Morgause-” Morgause turned, gaze sharp.

“My dear,” Balinor corrected. “I was thinking that maybe I should put in some extra hours at work…”

Morgause nodded, “I was thinking the same thing. The boys will need a university fund, after they pass their A-levels. And this house is getting a bit dusty, we should hire a housekeeper.”

Balinor looked around, “I think the house is great-”

A raised brow from Morgause.

“That is, you’ve done a great job styling the place.”

Morgause nodded in agreement.

“However, the cost of the boys’ current education is-”

“Well, in any case, your extra hours will do the trick. Perhaps, you could borrow some more from Gaius. Valiant and Cedric have schooling, too, you know.”

“Yes, of course. But I was thinking that maybe you could work with me. An cashier position opened up at Geoffrey’s bookstore and I thought, maybe-”

“Oh, my dear husband. You have done a wonderful job taking care of this family, but I’m afraid that at the moment, I’m doing all I can. Grieving a partner can be so hard, as you know…”

Balinor’s shoulders dropped. “Yes. I’m afraid, I do.”

“But we have each other, now,” Morgause pointed out with a small smile.

Balinor didn’t respond, too lost in the memories of his beloved Hunith.

“My dear? Dear?...Balinor?”

Balinor finally emerged from the depths of his enveloping sorrow, blinking with watery eyes.

“You’re not...crying, are you?” Morgause asked, leaning away from him.
Balinor sniffled, “No. Of course, not.” He tried to forget how Hunith would tell him, “It’s manly to cry, my love. It shows the true power of one’s heart.” Her words were distant already. It was easy to push them farther from his focus.

Morgause and Hunith couldn’t be more different in heart. But Balinor found that he was thankful for their differences. It lessened the pain of remembrance.

Thus, Balinor worked larger hours and took on another job (for money and for distraction) and Morgause scarcely left the house, save shopping and social outings. Cedric finished school, while Merlin- a year below him -entered his last year. (Valiant joined him, entering his third last year, but no one made any comment.)

All was civil in the household, if a bit detached and divided -everyone caught up in their own mind and past.

Until the week of Christmas arrived, the snow set in and with it, came an unwanted change.

“Merlin, my boy,” Balinor knocked, softly on his son’s bedroom door early one morning before work. (For now, Merlin and Cedric were sharing a room, as Valiant was the oldest of the three, and thus, got his own.)

Merlin sat up slowly in his bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Da, is that you?” Merlin whispered, in the dark.

“Yes, my boy.”

Balinor came to sit on Merlin’s bed, giving his son a much welcomed hug.

“I just wanted to ask you what you wanted for Christmas,” Balinor asked, quietly. “Your step-brothers want- uh, the new Fifa game, for Valiant, and some sort of historical treasure book, for Cedric. But you didn’t mention what you wanted.”

Merlin smiled at his father, replying honestly in his sleepy haze: “I just want a Christmas with you home, da.”

Balinor sighed, “I know. I wish I could be home more for you, but with-”

“I know, da. You’re doing your best. In fact, I was thinking of getting a job for the weekends at the local bookstore. Geoffrey’s not fond of me, but I think he’d let me in.”

Balinor’s smile softened, “Always looking out for me, just like your mam.”

Merlin smiled back, “If I work after school too, do you think you could take Christmas off?”

“I don’t know, Merlin. School’s expensive ‘round these parts.”

“Then, maybe I could work full-time. I heard Alator needs a new cleaner and-”

“No. Merlin, your mam would want you getting your schooling. You know how she wanted better for you,” Balinor replied.

Merlin deflated.

“How about this…” Balinor whispered. “You work part-time for Alator and I talk with Morgause about Valiant and Cedric working a bit for Geoffrey?”

Merlin smiled. “Then, you’ll be here for Christmas?”

“I’ll try, my boy. I’ll try.”

And try they did. Merlin talked to Alator- a local pet store owner -to apply for that job as the new store cleaner. Balinor attempted to talk with Morgause about getting her sons part-time jobs. And Cedric told his mother of Merlin and Balinor’s conversation.

Morgause, it seemed, was not happy to hear of her new husband’s early morning plans. Nor was she please with their topic of conversation. However, Morgause was a woman of forethought, not impulse. So, she bided her time and curled around the future.

The future, which brought with it a terrible opportunity for a woman built for such things. It came late on Christmas Eve, with ice on the roads and a ring on the house phone.

Merlin ran to it from the kitchen. He’d been waiting all night for his father to call, letting him know that he was done with his shift and on his way home for Christmas Day.

“Hello? Da?”

On the other end of the line, a woman cleared her throat.

“This is London Police Officer Spencer. Is this- uh, Merlin Emrys?” Merlin’s heart dropped.

“Yes, this is he. Is my da alright?”

Again, the woman cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Emrys, but there was an accident on the road. Your father has passed away. He died on impact. We are-”

Merlin staggered back, knocking over a vase in the process. He distantly heard it shatter.

A light came on from upstairs. Then a shuffle.

“What’s going on down there?”

Morgause. Merlin barely registered her voice.

In Merlin’s ear, the policewoman kept speaking. She sounded worried now.

“Sir? Are you alright, sir? I want to express my deepest condolences-”

“Merlin, was that you?” Morgause was suddenly in the room. “What do you think you’re doing, breaking my vases? Merlin? Merlin, what’s wrong? Who’s on the phone?”

Merlin dropped the phone from his ear, in response. He couldn’t move.

“Merlin?” Morgause watched him, cautious as ever. She slowly bent down and picked up the phone. “Who is this?”

“Da...” Merlin whispered, finally ambulatory. He took a step forward.

“I’m sorry, I must of misheard you,” Morgause was saying, on the phone with the policewoman. “My husband is not-” Morgause stopped mid-sentence. “Merlin, where are you going? I’m sorry, my son is-”

Merlin took another step forward. He didn’t know where he was going, just away. Away from the policewoman on the phone. Away from the vase, shattered in pieces. Away from Morgause, who never was and never would be Merlin’s mother. Away.

“Your father has passed away…”

Suddenly, Merlin was on the ground. Valiant and Cedric were entering the living room.

“Mum? What’s going on?” Cedric asked, looking between the vase, Merlin, and his mother.

Morgause turned away from them in reply, speaking in hushed tones with the woman on the phone.

“Mum!” Valiant was not charming, when he was tired.

Morgause shot them a glare and finally, she hung up.

Merlin sobbed.

“Your father was in a car crash.” Morgause told her sons, chin tilted up, as if ready for a fight.

Merlin sobbed harder. Hearing the words aloud, it seemed, did not make them any less true.

“What?!” Cedric asked.

“I thought dad died last year.” Valiant spoke, through a yawn, still half-asleep.

“No, you fool! Your-step father!” Morgause berated. “He’s dead.”

Silence filled up the living room, the only noise to be made was from the wind outside and the weeping from Merlin.

“What about university? I wanted to study hist-”

Valiant cuffed Cedric on the back of the head with a glare that rivaled his mother’s.

“Forget university!” Morgause scolded. “We have no money!” She stomped up the stairs.

Cedric gave one look toward Merlin, before following his mother.

Merlin couldn’t believe it. Dead. His father couldn’t be dead. It was Christmas. He said he’d be home. They’d-

“Hey, uh,” Valiant bent down to Merlin’s level. “Do you, uh, do you want me to call Gaius for you?”

Gaius. Merlin hadn’t even thought of him. Gaius will be devastated, he thought.

Merlin nodded and Valiant picked up the phone and went into another room to make the call, speaking softly and sincerely, if a bit awkward.

Merlin had never been more thankful, than in that moment, that they had moved to London and met the De Boise. For in the face of terrible, terrible sorrow, he felt just a little bit not alone.

At the funeral, as Merlin’s chest racked with tears, Merlin looked at the picture of his father at the altar and promised that he’d take care of them. He’d get a job and quit school and- But no. Merlin knew deep down, below his guilt and his pain, that both his parents would want him to receive an education and get a job that he loved, the way they both had in Ealdor. They’d want him happy. He couldn’t throw away their wishes and sacrifices. He just- he couldn’t.

I’ll get a scholarship then. Merlin thought, as the rest of the occupants rose from their seats in the rows behind him. And I’ll work all during uni. Maybe Gaius could tutor me and Valiant could work and-

And in that moment, Merlin’s grief didn’t make him sob. He took a breath. Then, another. And he thought of his mother.

“In life, there are two sides to the same coin.”

Gaius held his hand and Valiant nudged his shoe and Merlin took a breath.

Once the coat of mourning had settled, Merlin hid himself in his studies and his (new) chores. He kept his promise and tidied the house, cleaned the dishes, and washed the laundry. Gaius tutored him and raised a brow when Merlin yawned, but didn’t know of his housework and thus, didn’t do a thing to change it.

Balinor’s will bestowed all his earnings and belongings- including the house -to Morgause. Or so it said. But as the lawyer didn’t find any proof of forgery, that “will” was carried out. And so, the safe was broken open and all its proceeds were put in Morgause’s name. Merlin was moved to the attic, after finding his mother’s jewelry and his father’s safekept watch gone from his belongings (“This way you won’t “lose” any of your things among Cedric’s treasures”). And Valiant snuck him money for furniture.

The world moved on without notice, until Merlin received word through Gaius that Alator wanted to speak with him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Alator greeted, when Merlin walked into his shop.

Merlin smiled, sad, but kind.

“Thank you,” Merlin responded. “Gaius told me you wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I have something for you.”

Alator set on the counter a small cage. When Merlin came closer, he saw three little mice scurrying around inside.

“Your father picked them out. He said they were for you, for Christmas. He didn’t get a chance to buy them that day, so I thought...”

“Thank you,” Merlin replied.

He had thought he’d have nothing left of his parents, but this little gift was like a spark in his empty chest. They’d found no Fifa game or treasure book among Balinor’s belongings, but this...that his father had thought of him before the end...Merlin couldn’t help his soft smile. It was the first, since his father’s passing and he cherished it so.

“Thank you,” Merlin repeated, voice shaky. He took out his wallet.

“Oh, no,” Alator spoke, “Please, it’s a gift.”

He brought out a box of food and put it in a bag, that he pushed toward Merlin.

“Please, I can’t possible take all this for free.” Merlin said.

They came to an agreement. Merlin worked part-time for Alator, in between his studies and his chores. He applied, with Gaius’ help, to a few medical universities. (He had decided he wanted to cure people like his mother and care for them like his father had.) And he played with his mice, Griffin, Pixie, and Lamia, when his thoughts strayed to sorrow.

Two years passed without incident. Merlin got a scholarship to the University College of London’s Medical School (through Gaius’ glowing recommendation and Merlin’s high marks).

However, on the-”

Arthur looked at the clock. It was nearing the kids bedtime, but he knew they wouldn’t be happy if Morgana didn’t reach Merlin and his first meeting before bed. Arthur let the tale continue, gesturing behind the kids’ backs for Morgana to move along.

Morgana saw it and nodded, before tilting her head in the children’s direction. Arthur took the hint, leaned forward, as to look at the children’s expressions, and smiled. They were entranced with the story, so enthralled, they barely moved.

“-cond anniversary of his father’s death, Merlin took the day off from classes, working, and chores. He spent the day with a couple friends from uni- Gilli and Mordred. Mordred who’d been passively flirting with Merlin since they met. And Mordred, who kissed Merlin that night as he walked Merlin to his door-”

“No,” the little girl gasped.

“Shush,” her brother hushed.

“Now, Merlin knew that he only liked boys, as he had since primary school when Tom Fischer entered his class, but he also knew he liked Mordred as a friend, nothing more. He politely told Mordred this, before bidding him goodnight and heading inside.

But inside was not the place he remembered.

Morgause stood stoic by the staircase, Cedric fidgeting by the window, and Valiant sat just inside the living room, shoulders taunt, and avoiding Merlin’s eyes. That was Merlin’s first clue.

Valiant had been nothing but kind to Merlin, since his father’s passing. Even when Morgause treated Merlin liked an unwanted stranger in her home and Cedric made a snide comment about Merlin’s studies or stole another of Merlin’s things, Valiant was always there. Always kind (even if stilted).

“I expect your belongings gone by the morning,” Morgause said, ever razor-sharp.

“I don’t understand,” Merlin replied. “Did something happen?”

“You did, you poof,” Cedric sneered.

Morgause didn’t bat an eye. Merlin gawked.

“I-”

“You kissed him. Yes, we know,” Morgause said.

“But he-”

“Your little boyfriend can’t save you from this one, Merlin,” Cedric taunted, “Or should I call you Nancy-boy?”

Merlin was shocked. He looked to Valiant for help, but his one ally was still avoiding his gaze.

“Valiant?” Merlin squeaked.

Morgause turned toward her eldest son. Slowly, Valiant lifted his eyes and met Merlin’s watery gaze.

“No one wants you here, Nancy.”

Merlin’s heart broke.

“But-I have nowhere else to go. I clean for you and I never complain and-”

“And it’s not enough,” Morgause finished. “If you’re to stay here, you’ll pay rent. And you’ll cook, as well as clean, from now on.”

Merlin was left speechless.

“I’m giving you a very generous offer here, Merlin- rather, Nancy,” Morgause sneered. “I suggest you take it.” With that, she went up to her room and closed the door with a bang.

Cedric, ever compliant, followed her and went into his own room. Merlin turned to Valiant, once again.

“I know you didn’t mean tha-”

Valiant interrupted, “I did mean that. You’re lucky mum is even letting you be in the same house as us, you poof.”

Valiant got up and stormed upstairs, leaving Merlin all alone.

Merlin turned and ran out the door, down the steps and past the neighbors and- He needed to leave. He didn’t know if he would continue to live with the De Boise or not, but the urge to get away, away was overwhelming once again. He dialed up Gilli, who had a car.

Twenty minutes later, he was on the road by himself, heading out of town. In Ealdor, he would have just run for miles in the open fields. But running on the streets of London at night as he would be, would only get him arrested, looking like a thief. So, Merlin drove until his thoughts weren’t of his stepmother and stepbrothers, but of Mordred. Should he have told them that he didn’t initiate the kiss? Well, what did it matter? Merlin knew he was gay, after all. The fact that he didn’t actually like Mordred that way didn’t change who he was.

Before long, Merlin was in the rich part of the outskirts of London. The houses were big and long and far, in between. The surrounding parts were closer to the open fields he grew up with and-

A flash of movement had Merlin stomping on the brakes. Fortunately, Merlin didn’t hit the deer, who trotted across the road, unaffected.

But then Merlin felt a slight bump from the back of the car and realized the car behind him had hit him. (“Not a scratch”, Gilli had said.) Merlin winced.

He looked in the rearview mirror, noticing that the other car’s driver was getting out. Merlin followed suit. However, he was not expecting the driver’s reaction.

“Are you blind?!” The stranger yelled, slamming the door of his vehicle shut. He had light sun-kissed skin, blonde hair, and angry blue eyes. The stranger looked to be around Merlin’s age, if he had to guess.

Now, Arthur Pendragon was not in a good mood. His most recent ”best mate” had made a nasty comment about his first love, Gwen, and Arthur hadn’t been able to forget it all day. It didn’t help that it was the six month anniversary of Gwen’s departure from London, due to them getting caught by Arthur’s father and Gwen’s resulting discharge from her position as Morgana’s assistant.

“There was a deer in the road,” Merlin replied.

“A deer in the road. Do you know how expensive this car is? It's probably worth more your family’s entire livelihood!”

“It's just a scratch, you prat.” Merlin normally did not lash back at cruel comments, but there was something about this man that pushed all his buttons.

The stranger openly gaped at Merlin.

“Do you know who I am?!”

Unbeknownst to Merlin, at this point in time, Arthur's modeling career had reached an all-time high. Nevermind that Arthur himself wanted to go into the actual business side of his father's high quality retail company, not be the face on all the ads.

“No,” Merlin answered, honestly. “Should I?”

A “Ha!” of amusement slipped out without Arthur’s consent. This boy must've been living under a rock for the past year to not know Arthur's face.

“What’s your name?” Arthur couldn’t help but let his curiosity get the better of him. It was beyond refreshing that this boy didn’t know a thing about him, that he didn’t have a predisposed idea of who Arthur was, already formed in his mind.

“That depends who’s asking,” The boy answered, haughtily.

Arthur shook his head, “I’m not going to get you arrested. I simply want your name.”

Merlin hesitated. This stranger might be lying. If Merlin gave him his name, he could go to the police. Which wouldn’t actually be a problem, if only Merlin had gotten his driver’s license in the midst of his busy life. The stranger was expecting a response. Merlin gave the first name that popped into his head.

“I’m -uh, Gaius Wilson.”

Arthur scoffed. He knew the acclaimed Gaius Wilson, as he and Arthur’s father were old friends. This boy was clearly not the older doctor.

“And now you’re lying again.”

“I’m not lying!” Merlin defended.

“And I’m the Queen.”

Merlin couldn’t help his small smile and answer, “It’s an honor to meet you, your Majesty.”

The stranger gave him a blank look. Then the man turned away, the edge of an amused smile still visible on his lips. The stranger faced back toward Merlin.

“Okay, just tell me this: Do you have a nickname? Something they call you?”

“It doesn’t matter what they call me.”

The stranger gave Merlin a sceptical look.

“People are more than their reputation, don’t you think?” Merlin clarified. Merlin was thinking about his newly appointed names from the De Boise, but his words struck a chord within the stranger.

Arthur, who been trained all his life by his father that reputation and appearance was everything. But lately, he’d been questioning that motto. Yes, that’s exactly what I think, Arthur thought.

“I suppose so,” the stranger spoke aloud.

Merlin smiled again, wider now that this beautiful stranger was being more agreeable.

“In life, there are two sides to the same coin. Could there not be two sides to this story?
Perhaps, you didn’t see the deer. Maybe you were too focused on something else…?” Merlin ventured.

Arthur snapped his gaze up in anger at the accusation that he wasn’t paying attention to the road. However, looking into this boy’s eyes, he saw no accusation, only gentle sincerity.

“Yes, you may be right,” Arthur resigned. He had been preoccupied now that he looked back. This was as much Arthur’s fault as this strange boy’s.

“I’ll be on my way then”, Arthur said.

The strange boy nodded.

Arthur returned the smile given his way, with hesitance, but he returned it nonetheless.

“Drive safely”, the boy called out to Arthur’s retreating back.

Arthur looked at him confused at the ease of his informal words. However, there was only kindness in the boy’s eyes. Arthur got in his car and drove away with a slight incline of his head toward the boy when he waved.

Arthur had never met someone like that raven haired boy, but he’d like to change that one day.

The strange boy was still on Arthur’s mind the next afternoon, when he was modeling in another photoshoot for the upcoming spring season. Uther was on set, that day, and he was not happy about Arthur’s new car’s “scratch”.

“What if that boy went to the police? What would people think?”

“It’s just a scratch, father.”

“It’s not about the car, Arthur! It’s about the way people look at us. Common people get scratches on their cars. We have to be above that. It’s the principle of the thing!”

“‘People are more than their reputation’ or something like that,” Arthur quoted.

Uther whipped around. His son may not have been perfect, but he was rarely disobedient.

“Arthur, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, father. I just think-”

“Don’t think. Just do as I say. Have George check the police records for any statements from this boy. I won’t have the public finding out about this.”

Arthur kept quiet and did as he was told. But when George didn’t find an reports from the anyone matching the boy’s description, Arthur felt like he’d won. His father may believe in the innate evil of the public, but it simply affirmed Arthur’s beliefs in the good of people.

And so ends, chapter one of tonight’s fairytale,” Morgana finished.

“Aww,” the little girl complained.

“Just a little more?” The little boy asked, quietly earnest.

Morgana smiled and looked toward the children’s father.

“I’m afraid, it’s time to sleep,” Arthur said, with a sigh.

“But-“ The little girl protested,

“Okay,” The little boy gave in easier than his sister (ever would).

“Until tomorrow, my lovelies,” Morgana set a kiss on each of the children’s foreheads.

Arthur tucked them in in turn, before joining Morgana in the doorway.

“Goodnight, papa. Goodnight, Aunt Morgana.” The little girl called from her bed.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” The adult siblings replied.

Arthur closed their door, as the children fell fast asleep.

Chapter Text

“Alright, my darlings. Now, where were we?” Morgana settled into the rocking chair, as the children climbed into their beds.

“Papa and daddy just met!” the little girl reminded Morgana in delight.

“Oh, yes! Very good, Thea,” Morgana praised.

“Is papa home yet?” The little boy, Daegal, asked his aunt and caretaker before she could start the evening’s storytelling. He didn’t know it, but his name was picked from Merlin’s middle name, chosen for Merlin by his father, Balinor. Similarly, Thea, was Hunith’s middle name, picked in honor of Merlin’s dear mother.

“He’s on his way, Dae,” Morgana soothed, “I’m sure he’s packing up as fast as he can to get home to you.”

Little Daegal shrunk into his pillows, but nodded to himself, as if that response was sufficient.

“Are you ready to continue our tale, my darlings?” Morgana asked the children.

Thea, the younger of the two, cheered in response. Her brother was more tame, but he too expressed his approval in a little nod of the head and a spark of excitement in his big blue eyes.

Morgana smiled. They were getting to her favorite part of the fairytale: the fairy godmother, and thus, she too was excited to relive the story. And so she began:

“Merlin awoke to a beep from his bedside, a rustling in the wind, and the round rising sun. He fumbled in the low light of the attic, finding his hand-darned wool socks and slipping them on. It was late October and the temperatures were dropping, yet again.

Not much had changed in the last five years. Merlin was twenty-three, in his last year of getting his bachelor’s in medicine, and the light at the end of the tunnel was blinding. But he still lived with the De Boise (now paying rent) and cooked and cleaned for them and worked (three) jobs and missed his parents.

Only now, as Merlin crept downstairs to the kitchen, he went with the knowledge that soon he would be free of the De Boise’s cruelty and exploitation.

While cooking their breakfast, with that thought in mind, Merlin hummed (off-key) and danced around the floor (One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One). When he was finished, he set their meals on the table and crept back upstairs. Merlin threw on some clothes with vigor and fed his mice with a loving hand. Then, he hurried down the stairs, added catfood to Lucifer’s bowl, and was out the door with a Pot Noodle in hand, just in time for the De Boise’s morning alarms to sound. (Which was a good thing, because the alarms were usually followed by a loud crash and some yelling.)

On the other side of London, Arthur Pendragon was just waking up. He put on some running clothes, went for a jog, and was back in time for their housekeeper to make him a hearty English breakfast.

While Merlin arrived at work, (rather his first job of the day- Finna’s coffee shop), stuffing his face with ramen (not a fit meal for a doctor, but it fit in his budget), Arthur checked his work email, grabbed his books, and headed to class. Unlike Merlin, Arthur was raised by Uther Pendragon and his affinity for promptness. Arthur may now be twenty-two, getting his M.B.A. from London Business School, and have a part-time position (finally behind-the-scenes) at his father’s company, Camelot, but for all that Arthur was his own man, the ways of his father were still ingrained in him. (“Lateness is for the dramatic, punctuality is for the noble.”)

The two carried on with their day, completely unaware of one another, but soon all that would change.

As Merlin went to his daily lecture, Arthur headed to his father’s office after getting a message from his assistant and current best mate, Leon, (the longest best mate Arthur’s had), that Uther wanted to meet with him.

However, from outside his father’s office, Arthur could hear people having - what sounded to be -a serious discussion. So, Arthur waited just outside the hall leading to his father’s office to give the matter more privacy. Before long, Arthur heard the office door open and the voices became louder.

A voice Arthur didn’t recognize spoke first:

“Mr. Pendragon, you really should be in a hospital-”

“Keep your voice down!” That was distinguishably Arthur’s father.

“But Mr. Pendragon, your liver-”

“Quiet!”

Silence. Then, a harshly whispered:

“If anyone finds out about this because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, I will have my lawyers take you to court! Do you understand, doctor?”

“Yes. But-”

A slam, as the door was shut (most likely in the poor doctor’s face).

Arthur barely recovered from the shock of what he’d overheard in time to bury his face in his phone, as a means of looking ignorant when said doctor walked past him.

When Arthur finally realized what he’d overheard, he was long gone from the Uther’s office and its news-bearing halls. Rather, Arthur was sitting in his own office, staring into space.

His father was sick? With some sort of liver disease? And Uther was keeping it to himself??

The mere thought that a man, as obsessed with perfection as Arthur’s father, was impaired in any way, should be ironic. But to Arthur, it was devastating.

Leon found him an hour later, still sitting in his desk chair- processing the news.

“Arthur?” Leon sounded worried, which wasn’t a rare occurrence, but it still concerned Arthur. Leon, at least, was using Arthur’s first name, which had taken a year to achieve all on its own.

Arthur rubbed his temple, leaving his hazy thoughts behind.

“Yes, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked, trying to change mindsets from the worried son to the business man.

Leon looked at Arthur funny. “Nothing’s wrong. Are you-” Leon stopped. “That is-” Another pause.

“Whatever it is, I can take it, Leon.”

Still, Leon shot him a hesitant glance when he said, “Are you alright, Arthur?”

Now, when Arthur described Leon as his best mate, it was because he was the closest person Arthur had to one. They didn’t annoy each other, talked every day, and went out for drinks every blue moon. That was what a best mate did, right? Well, for Arthur it was, anyway. He’d found that he had a rather terrible eye for best mates (and partners, Morgana never forgot to remind him), but so far, Leon had been nothing but congenial.

Yet, never in the three years of their “friendship” had Leon ever asked Arthur a personal question, such as this.

(That was the second shock Arthur received that day. He wasn’t sure he could take another.)

“Yes, I’m-” It was Arthur’s turn to hesitate. He wasn’t really fine, was he? Well, physically he was fine, but his father, on the other hand…

“Fetch Morgana for me, would you?” If anyone would know Uther Pendragon’s secrets, it was Arthur’s half-sister -”

“Aunt Morgana, that’s you!” Thea exclaimed.

Morgana smiled, “Don’t tell your papa this, but I’m my favorite character.”

“Daddy’s my favorite character!” Thea responded, not shy in her preference for Merlin.

When Thea and Morgana turned to get Daegal’s response, he shifted in his bed, uncomfortable with the attention.

“I’m not sure, yet,” He responded, after a few seconds.

Morgana nodded, “No need to decide. Shall we continue?”

The children nodded, earnestly.

“Leon fetched Morgana from her office two floors up. She was, after all, the very lawyer Uther had threatened the doctor with. The doctor, who hadn’t changed course at the time, but clearly, he didn’t know Arthur’s sister very well.

Morgana Le Fay was a fierce woman. She was a top notch lawyer, known for going after what she wanted, and that was one of the many reasons Uther had hired her after she too left the modeling world to focus on her studies. Back when the siblings finished sixth form, their modeling careers took off quite rapidly, until they were a well-known duo -”

“Now you’re just making things up,” A voice in the doorway complained.

“Papa!” The children exclaimed, happy to see Arthur home.

Thea scrambled out of her bed and ran to give Arthur a hug. Well, what she could reach of Arthur.

Daegal was characteristically less expressive in his joy. Yet, his tight grasp on the edge of his blankets lessened considerably, in physical recognition that one of the heads of his family was finally home with them.

Once Arthur had given a hug to both children, one by his legs and the other in their bed, Arthur sat down on Daegal’s bed with Thea securely in his lap.

“Reading fairytales to them again, I see,” Arthur commented, but there was no disapproval in his tone, only amusement.

Morgana shrugged, “The tale needs to be told.”

Arthur raised a brow, a trick he learned from Merlin, who, in turn, had learned it from Gaius.

“Some might disagree with you on that.”

It was true. While Arthur saw no harm in telling the children Merlin’s and his history, Merlin wanted to shelter their children from his hard past. Quite ironic, given the switch in their parenting styles.

Morgana gave Arthur no reply. Instead, she looked to the children.

“Shall we continue?”

They nodded, as they settled themselves into their new positions. Morgana smiled and began again.

“While Arthur Pendragon spoke with his sister, Morgana, over the matter of their father’s secrets and health, Merlin Emrys tried to stay awake during his professor’s dull lecture.

Merlin loved learning, he really did. But there were reasons everyone called this professor “The Goose” and, while those reasons were amusing on paper, they became distracting in action. The Goose always spoke in a nasally voice, as if his nose was permanently pinched. The same nose that was long and pointed like a beak over the man’s small mouth. He was bald and pale as a sheet of paper and always walked with his feet pointed outward.

Merlin was sure that The Goose was a great man at heart. He also probably knew what he was talking about, as he was an well educated man. But for the life of him, Merlin couldn’t help but focus on how his professor waddled back and forth at the front of the small lecture hall. It was downright distracting!

Merlin felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his well-worn jeans. Careful not to catch The Goose’s gaze, Merlin slipped his iphone from his pocket.

It was the nicest thing he owned- a gift from the lads in celebration from when he got his bachelor's. Merlin hated accepting gifts, but, at the time, his previous phone- a simple flip phone -had been stolen by a lingering hand in the house and Merlin needed a contact number for his part-time jobs. (He’d dared not disturb the De Boise by putting their home number down.)

1:14 Mordred: We still on for Vivian’s at 2pm?

Mordred had suggested the cafe, Vivian’s, in the wealthier part of London, near Harrods and Camelot and all those other retail stores made for the rich or the tourists, for their long time reunion. Merlin, of course, had been hesitant to agree, knowing he couldn’t possibly pay for even a cup of tea at such an expensive place. However, Mordred, Merlin’s friend from university back in the day, had insisted that he would pay for them both. Merlin had agreed only for the fact that Mordred had up and quit med school, dropping out of uni completely, for a reason he wouldn’t share with anyone- let alone his adopted guardian, Professor Kilgharrah, who was now Merlin’s assigned faculty advisor. No one had heard from Mordred since. Then one day, Merlin had seen Mordred’s name on a large bus ad when walking to the Tube one morning. He was a designer for the big-name high-class retail store, Camelot, it now seemed.

1:14 Merlin: Yeah, I’ll meet you there

The clock couldn’t move fast enough, but finally Merlin’s lecture was over. From his lecture hall, Merlin walked to the nearest underground entry and rode the lines southwest.

When Merlin finally arrived at the busy, little up-scale cafe, Mordred was already sitting toward the back, sipping a cup of coffee. It struck Merlin as odd because Mordred used to always order herbal tea when they went out to eat before.

Perhaps, Merlin’s curly haired friend had changed more than he had thought.

Mordred caught Merlin’s eyes and gave the slightest nod of invitation, communicating silently.

Merlin made his way through the crowd, deciding to keep his light winter jacket on, in case this reunion didn’t go as expected.

“Good to see you, Mordred,” Merlin greeted, when he was in earshot. “You look well.”

Merlin meant it. When he had first become friends with Mordred, they’d both been clad with only ratty jeans and well-worn wind-brakers, complete with scoffed trainers. Now Mordred was dressed in a blue, smooth cashmere jumper, clean-cut trousers, black polished shoes, and a dark blue wool coat around his shoulders for the cold or style or both, Merlin wasn’t sure.

Mordred’s smile was genuine. He was laid-back and confident when he replied, “You too, Merlin. I’m glad we could meet up.”

Merlin ignored the returned compliment. (Sure, he’d grown into his body, shoulders wider, features more mature, hair grown out a bit until it became the “stylish” mess it currently was. But Merlin would rather receive a compliment on his kindness or wisdom, than his looks.)

“Me as well. We’ve a lot to catch up on, it seems.” Merlin replied, with an easy smile.

Mordred looked abashed at that, “I’m afraid I up and left you all, didn’t I?”

Merlin shrugged, “That’s alright. You’re here now, yeah?”

Mordred smiled, “Yeah.”

They moved on to other topics: the usual horrid weather, Mordred’s designing career, Merlin’s studies- nothing Merlin wasn’t expecting. However, Merlin got so caught up in the warm tea in his hands and the utter joy on his old friend’s face as Merlin told a particular story about Gwaine’s antics (and how their talk veered to such a subject, Merlin couldn’t recall) that he almost didn’t notice the time.

Merlin looked at his cheap plastic wristwatch and noticed he was almost late for his next shift. He flinched and barely refrained from jumping up and spilling tea everywhere in surprise.

“Merlin?” Mordred’s concern was palpable.

“I’m so sorry, Mordred, but I’ve really got to go,” Merlin explained, “I hadn’t realized it was getting so late.”

“Oh,” Mordred’s shoulders dropped visibly, “Well... it was lovely to see you again, Merlin. Perhaps, we could do this again sometime. Without that bit about me disappearing, that is.” Mordred’s tone had suddenly become hesitant.

“Yes, of course, Mordred,” Merlin had forgotten how much he’d missed his uni friend. He cracked a grin, “I’m sure you’ll want to hear the end of that Gwaine story, at any rate.”

“Yes,” Mordred smiled, “but I really did enjoy talking to you. Your classes sound fascinating and I can tell you’re really passionate about what you’re studying. It’s inspiring, Merlin.”

Merlin beamed, “I’m so glad you think so! You know what? The lads and I are all having a pub night tomorrow evening. Why don’t you come? I’ll introduce you to them. Cheap ale? What’d you think?”

Mordred hesitated, “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose…”

Merlin glance at his watch again. He finished the last of his tea, while standing up.

“You wouldn’t be,” Merlin said, putting on his jacket with no amount of grace or efficiency.

“I’ll text you the address, you can come if you’re up for it,” Merlin said, stuffing his phone in his pocket and his fingerless gloves and hat on his fingers and head.

Mordred still looked uncertain.

“I’m sure they would love to meet you. Getting tired of me and my boring medical-babble,” Merlin joked. He checked the time again. “I’ve really got to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow night! Thanks for the tea!”

Merlin was hugging Mordred and heading toward the front of Vivian’s cafe so fast, he was sure Mordred was still processing his response. He was almost out the door, when Merlin heard Mordred call his name and turned, still rushing, in response, when all of a sudden he rammed into-

“Oof.” Splash.

Merlin looked up in time to see the stranger’s hot coffee spill right down the front of the man’s white business shirt, perfectly aimed down the middle, as to avoid the black wool overcoat.

“Bloody hell!” The man exclaimed. (A real Brit, this one was.)

“I’m so sorry!” Merlin apologized, immediately.

The man Merlin had run into was, of course, none other than Arthur Pendragon himself. (Arthur, who’d now received his third shock of the day and was sincerely hoping this would be the last.)

“Please, let me-!” Suddenly, there was a whirl of movement and then a steady pair of hands were pressing the soaked fabric against Arthur’s chest, the recently freed heat clinging furiously to Arthur’s skin.

“It’s- ! You- ! Hot!” Arthur threw his head up with a gasp, wincing as the hot liquid became further attached to him. Real intelligent, he then thought.

Once the words were out, the stranger retracted his hands, apologies babbling through Arthur’s ears bypassing his brain. With a sigh of relief, Arthur looked down, only to drag his breath back in.

Arthur froze. The stranger- a man whose brilliant blue eyes were opened wide with concern -was so astoundingly familiar, that it was unnerving. His coal-black hair was somehow straight, yet simultaneously messy, and his defined cheekbones looked strikingly smooth. Everything about him tugged at Arthur, pulling him in with painful force.

Then it clicked: this was the same boy who had changed Arthur’s perspective all those years ago, the one who had stopped for the “deer” and hadn’t known Arthur’s face. This boy who was now a man, his gangly body now lean and fit. Arthur couldn’t help but stare in utter disbelief. I thought I’d never see you again.

“Are you alright, mate?” The man asked hesitantly, his voice concerned, full of that genuine emotion Arthur remembered so clearly. As to when he had ceased his apologies, Arthur wasn’t aware.

“I- ,” Arthur swallowed and looked away, “Yes.”

A curly-haired young man sidled up next to them, effectively cutting Arthur off with, “Are you alright, M-”

The new stranger’s head turned as he talked, “-Arthur?”

Arthur looked to him at the sound of his name. Sure enough, it was another familiar face. This one though, while friendly, brought no pull to his heartstrings.

“Mordred,” Arthur greeted, his professional persona coming back to him, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Mordred, Morgana’s most prized designer, gave a small smile, addressing Arthur with a nod of respect. He then turned back to his companion, holding up a deep red scarf.

“Oh! Thank you! I almost left without it,” the man replied, with a broad grin, taking the scarf from Mordred and hastily wrapping it around his neck.

Mordred returned the smile, before tapping his wrist, “You better be on you way, then.”

The man’s eyes widened again, “Right!”

Arthur cleared his throat to remind them of his presence.

The man’s gaze returned to him, “Again, I’m so sorry.” A quick sparkle appeared in his eyes and then-“Let me make it up to you. Mordred, have you got a pen?”

Mordred quirked a brow, but didn’t ask any questions as he handed over an art pen.

“Thank you.”

In the next breath, the man was scribbling on a dry napkin he’d materialized from somewhere and shoving it in Arthur’s hand, before returning the pen to its owner.

“I’m already late, but I’ll buy you another coffee,” he was squeezing out the door before Arthur could think of a reply.

Arthur blinked. He looked at the napkin. It was a phone number, hurriedly scribbled, but somehow still legible.

He thoughtlessly turned to Mordred for answers, but Camelot’s prodigy designer was ducking his head to answer a call. Arthur was pretty sure he could hear Morgana’s strong voice through the phone.

Arthur waited five minutes, glancing at the napkin constantly, before his patience was fraying at the edges. His own phone buzzed.

3:32 Leon: Mr. Pendragon, the Chairman has requested to see you in his office in an hour. He claims that you missed a meeting with him set for this morning.

Arthur’s jaw clenched. His father wanted to meet with him again and Leon was back to the formalities. He checked the time, realizing he’d need to stop at his apartment for a clean shirt and probably a shower to vanish any lingering coffee stench.

He looked up at Mordred. He was, of course, still on the phone with Morgana, but gave Arthur another respectful nod when he gestured toward the door.

Arthur left the coffee shop, watching the staff wipe up the mess he’d made out of the corner of his eye. His hand grasped the napkin in his pocket, bubbling with intrigue.

Who are you? ”

Morgana paused in her storytelling. Last time she’d told this story, this was the part when she would talk about her past self. Though the fairy godmother’s backstory was never shared in tales such as this, Morgana had never been one easily cowed by tradition. It had felt natural to add her perspective the first time around, but now? Now, she wasn’t sure.

Of course, Morgana didn’t tell the kids all that she remembered, the way she didn’t go too in depth into the De Boise’s treatment of Merlin, or the names they called him. She mainly kept to the story she had been told or witnessed, but some parts, she acknowledged, they simply weren’t ready to hear.

And, of course, there were some things Morgana never dared speak aloud, even to herself, but they still happened. The memories were often quick and far in between, little things that’d somehow left an impression.

But how Morgana felt, she would never forget. The terrible weight of loneliness that would ram into her, like waves crashing on the rocks, overwhelming her. It was painful in nature and terrifying to face. She had felt as if she was an outsider in her own family. Day and night, the questions would torment her doubts: What if Uther throws me out on the street? What if Arthur finds out and hates me for it? What if he never talks to me again? What if I’m wrong and I’m not gay? What if, what if, what if?

Before one day, she got an email from a woman named Morgause, claiming that Morgana was the result of Uther’s affair, leading Morgause, herself, to be Morgana’s half sister. The ‘what if’s didn’t seem so important, after that.

The very next day, Morgana remembered barging in to Uther Pendragon’s office unaware and undeterred with the fact that he was deep in a meeting with a potential client and members of Camelot’s executives, including a freshly appointed Arthur Pendragon. She had demanded the truth of her parentage and, in the resulting fury that followed, defended the importance of her questioning by admitting (quite loudly) that she always knew she didn’t fit in. (That had quieted the room right down.)

“Why?” Arthur had dared to ask, bewildered. “Why do you feel you don’t fit in?”

Morgana had yelled, exasperated and still caught up in the initial uproar, “Because I’m gay!”

All these years later, Morgana still remembered how deafening that resulting silence had been. She had froze, and in doing so, her shocked gaze was kept trained on Arthur. Arthur, whose response had changed her view of him forever.

Not at first, mind, because seeing his resulting incomprehension had only made her angry again, but the words he spoke brought a relief like no other.

“So? What does it matter? I’m bisexual,” Arthur had said, loud and clear, the confusion never leaving his expression, his whole body soaked in normalcy and bafflement. Not a flicker of fear entered his eyes, not a lick of hesitation.

Morgana knew right then. Right then, that she would follow him and never look back, that she was wrong about him from the beginning, that no matter how Uther reacted- she would still want Arthur in the rest of her life.

And so, Morgana made sure to tell her godchildren of Arthur’s reaction, glossing over the details of how it came to be. She made sure to include that bit of her character’s backstory, although she left out the email and feelings within the memory. Because if there was one thing that she needed them to grow up knowing, it was that there were people like Arthur in the world.

“Papa, you sound so brave!” Thea exclaimed, awe colouring her features.

Arthur looked down at his daughter with mock arrogance: “I am very brave, I’ll have you know.”

Thea giggled and Arthur’s expression softened. He looked up and caught Morgana’s eye, facade turning hard and serious. Arthur looked Morgana straight in the face, jaw clenched with held back emotion, and nodded just once. Morgana felt the gratitude that this man was her brother all over again. Arthur, who had now seen all her faults, fears, and insecurities, but still included her in family brunch every Sunday. Arthur, who was always there and always loyal.

Morgana’s biggest relief is that she managed to pay her debt to Arthur by bringing him and Merlin together. Which reminded her...

“Back to the story then: While Merlin was working away and Arthur was distractedly dealing with coffee stains, Morgana was sitting at her desk in Camelot’s headquarters, going through her latest case files. The lawsuit was between Camelot and a former employee, Gareth, who claimed that he was unjustly fired. Gareth went on the accuse Camelot of prejudice in the workplace and a whole number of emotional assaults to his person, demanding compensatory damages be paid in full- the man clearly didn’t study law. But something that he had said had stuck with Morgana.

“Do you know who I am?” Gareth had sneered, disbelieving and sure about his place in the world, all at once. “My family owns more wealth than you could ever hope to imagine!”

The words were arrogant and immature, sure. But they reminded her so much of a younger Arthur- the shadow of himself that he was during his teenage years.

Then it clicked. If Gareth’s family owned so much money, then how come I’ve never heard of them? Morgana wondered. She had, after all, grown up with the Pendragons, a family of wealth, itself. She had thought she knew of all the main houses of importance from old money, corporate, and those in between.

Morgana started typing. Sure enough, the name “Gareth Lothian” produced numerous results on Google. At the top of the page was a link to a news article titled “Heir to the Lothian Family Fortune Found Dead by Groundskeeper”. When she clicked it open, the article revealed that Gareth Lothian, the youngest son of the late Sir Lot Lothian, has two older brothers. The eldest brother, Geraint, was the heir of the family fortune that the article was titled after. But, as was clear from the news title, Geraint was found dead three years ago at their family’s mansion.

According to the article, the family’s fortune was then passed -as was requested in Sir Lot’s will -to the middle Lothian son and Gareth’s second oldest brother, Gwaine.

On and on Morgana read about the Lothian’s, until she felt well versed in the family history and could correctly sketch out their lineage. It seemed Gareth’s claim to fortune had been true at one point in time. But the real interest lay in why is wasn’t anymore.

Some digging on Morgana’s part provided all the answers she was interested in: Gwaine Lothian was the complete opposite of his pompous younger brother, choosing to live a life of simplicity and hard work. After his socialite older brother died the morning after a yacht party gone too far, Gwaine inherited all the money his relentless father had collected from years of intimidation and merciless coercion. A sum of considerable size, if the bank online documentation was to be believed.

However, Gwaine voluntarily gave the largest portion of his inheritance to his mother, Mrs. Katelyn Lothian. Katelyn was Lot’s wife for over thirty years, but had never seen a lick of the money put aside in their family’s name due to specific instruction from Lot’s will. Whether this was from Lot’s sexist mentality or past quarrels between the couple, Morgana couldn’t tell.

The rest of Gwaine’s newly accustomed wealth was dispersed between his acting classes and pricey Camden flat (the nicest thing he allowed himself, judging by bank receipts). And of course, a suitable sum went to Gareth- but certainly not enough to brag about.

So there was the answer to Morgana’s question: she hadn’t heard of the Lothian family because their once acclaimed wealth was no more in the hands of the men of the family, but rather owned by the woman of the house. (As it ought to be, Morgana privately thought.) Katelyn had followed her son’s example and bought herself a nice house in Winchester (Southern England), donating the majority of her newly acquired fortune to the Red Nose Society and similar charities working toward a better world.

As for Gareth, Morgana could now clearly see the lawsuit for what it was: a last-ditched effort for fortune he no longer had, because of his brother’s sensible money-practices.

Beep. Buzz.

Morgana turned from her computer to see that her 4 o’clock appointment had finally arrived.

“You wanted to see me?”

(Mordred’s appearance brought a genuine smile to Morgana’s face, every time, without failure.)

“Yes, I thought I’d check in to see how your adjustment was going,” she replied.

Mordred rolled his eyes with a smile, something he would never had dared do in her presence when he first started, here at Camelot. A small victory, then.

“As I told you when you called half an hour ago, I’m adjusting to the job just fine. And,” Mordred continued when Morgan opened her mouth to correct him, “I’m adjusting to London well, too. I did grow up here, you know.”

“I actually meant your social life, but if you rather not talk about it, that’s perfectly understandable.”

Mordred raised a brow, “I know what you’re doing, trying to get me to admit that I need your help making friends and all, but I don’t.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, love.”

Mordred crossed his arms, “I’ll have you know that before you called to check up on me, I was meeting up with an old friend. In fact, he happened to invite me out to a pub to meet his mates tomorrow night.”

Morgana strained to keep her impassive expression on, masking her amusement from Mordred’s petulant tone. It wasn’t often that Mordred relaxed enough around her. Usually, he was eager to please with a professional manner that never ceased.

“And what would be the name of this ‘old friend’ of yours?” Morgana asked, a teasing gleam in her eye.

Mordred huffed, “His name is Merlin and he’s quite real, Morgana. We talked for nearly an hour. He even shared about his thesis and his jobs- he works three jobs, can you believe it? -and a hilarious story about a friend of his, Gwaine, who took the oddest gig down by- Why are looking at me like that?”

Morgana hadn’t realized he facade has slipped until Mordred stopped babbling, staring at her in concern, instead.

“Gwaine, did you say?” she managed.

“Yes. I don’t see how it matters really, but-”

“You’re sure, Mordred? Your friend-”

“Merlin.”

“Right, Merlin, his mate’s name is Gwaine?”

“Yes, Morgana. Why? Do you know him?” Mordred asked.

“Tell me something, Mordred, would you say ‘Gwaine’ is a very common name around these parts?”

“You’ve lived here all your life too, why are you asking me?” (Questioning Morgana’s train of thought, another sign of how far she’s come with breaking Mordred’s detached persona.)

“It’s not, isn’t it,” Morgana confirmed.

“Well, no, I guess not,” Mordred spoke slowly.

Morgana turned back to her computer, “You didn’t happen to get a last name for this Gwaine fellow, did you?”

“What’s going on, Morgana?”

Gwaine, Gwaine Lothian...Could it be the same person?

Morgana wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but some instinct within her said that Gwaine was the key to a very important task she had yet to achieve.

Mordred sighed when he didn’t get a response from her. He tried another tactic for her attention.

“I ran into Arthur today,” Mordred announced.

“Ah, what is my favorite brother up to this week?”

“He was at Viviane's. You know, the little coffee place I like?”

“Yes, Arthur does like his coffee,” Morgana replied half-distracted.

Her wheels were still spinning, stuck on the idea that the rarity that was Gwaine Lothian could be right under her nose. And he was a rarity. Morgana could count on one hand the number of wealthy families that donated their fortunes and settled for the middle-class lifestyle, instead of one of luxury. And including Gwaine, the number totaled one.

“Well, actually Merlin ran into Arthur- quite literally, might I add. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Arthur that red in the face before…” Mordred mused.

“This is Arthur Pendragon we’re talking about? My brother, Arthur Pendragon?” Morgana confirmed.

“Yes, I don’t think I would have believed it had I not seen it myself, but there he was, covered in coffee, at a loss for words, and somehow still winding up with Merlin’s number.”

Morgana turned to gawk at Mordred. In all her time with Arthur, she had rarely seen him speechless, even in front of Uther. And even back when he had been an arrogant prat, Arthur was never good at sweet talking girls (or guys, for that matter).

Mordred nodded, “That’s it exactly, he looked just as you do now.”

Morgana snapped her mouth shut, regaining some sense of composure.

Well, isn’t this interesting. First Gwaine, now Arthur.

Morgana waited until Mordred looked her straight in the eye before demanding, “Tell me everything.”

Ten minutes later as Morgana was marching her way to Arthur’s office, heels clicking against the marble floors, the plan that had seeded itself in her brain was fully blossoming and ripe for the picking.

Arthur, meanwhile, had just checked in with Leon- his assistant was infuriatingly polite again -after arriving back at Camelot headquarters, freshly showered and newly dressed.

He had just crossed the threshold exiting his office when he spotted her. Arthur’s eyes automatically started checking the perimeter for an escape route, but his beloved office was surrounded by a maze of cubicles and desk workers and thus, he was trapped.

This was not to be mistaken- Arthur loved his sister dearly -but sometimes Morgana got a determined look in her eye that was downright terrifying.

Case in point, a hand snaked its way around his left bicep, nails digging in through the suit jacket. It seemed he had taken too long planning tactics to actually make any real progress in getting away.

Arthur turned to his sister, hackles raised and head spinning with topics of possible targets she might have locked on behind those piercing green eyes.

Arthur smiled, but it just barely kept from being a wince, “Morgana, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Morgana’s smirk was all mischief and Arthur's future was looking darker by the second.

“Am I not allowed to stop by to see my favorite brother every now and then?” Morgana asked.

“I'm your only brother,” Arthur pointed out. He started heading toward his next meeting, leading her along.

“As far as we know, but that's besides the point.”

“And what, pray tell, would your point be, Morgana?”

“My point, dear brother, is that you haven't had a date in who-knows-how-long and I have it on very good authority that the opportunity for one has just landed in your lap. Metaphorically speaking, of course,” Morgana replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes, quietly letting out a sigh of relief, as he honestly answered, “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

Morgana opened her mouth to protest, when suddenly Arthur was pulled to a stop. He’d almost forgotten about Morgana’s harpy claws in the midst of his panic.

“Arthur…” Morgana drawled, a twinkle in her eye.

Arthur’s stomach dropped at the tone. Morgana looked as if she’d just found the chest at the end of the treasure map.

Morgana continued, her smirk never wavering, “What’s that in your pocket?”

Arthur followed her locked gaze to his right trouser pocket where his hand was clutching -

Oh, he thought as realization hit. Oh, no.

“Morgana,” Arthur started, releasing the napkin in his right hand, and instead using it to pry her fingers from their clutch, “I’m actually quite busy right now. Maybe if you come back later- say tonight, for instance -I could really give you the answers you’re looking for.”

“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to take up your evening. Besides, I think I’ve found all the answers I need right here,” Morgana responded, never missing a beat.

Arthur’s smile was edging on a grimace again, “How thoughtful. But you know how father loves being punctual. I wouldn’t want to be late to our meeting and all.” He started heading toward Uther’s office again.

“I’ll send someone along to personally let him know you’re behind schedule. And anyhow, you owe me for that interrogation earlier today. If you would have just came out and asked whatever it was that you wanted to know about Uther, then I would have gladly told you the truth. For the right price, that is.”

Arthur stopped walking. He’d had enough. First, his father being ill of some sort. Then, Leon shutting him out with the formalities. Then, Morgana giving him absolutely nothing about what was going on with the doctor and the liver and the secrets. And then, the blue-eyed stranger had- Well, if Arthur was honest, his run in with the familiar man didn’t belong on this list of complaints, but the point still stands: Arthur was well and truly fed-up with life’s surprises today and Morgana’s unnatural interest in his love life was pushing him just past his daily limit.

Arthur turned in the hallway to face his half-sister, “I was holding a napkin in my pocket, Morgana. And not for whatever bizarre reason you have brewing in that head of yours, but because it has a phone number on it- a very important phone number because it belongs to this man that I literally ran into today at the coffee shop. Which I’m sure you know all about, from that pet-prodigy of yours, and if you’ll excuse me I really need to go meet with father.”

Morgana just raised a brow, a talent Arthur had not inherited, and thus the movement aggravated him to no end.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal.” Morgana was infamous for that line. It was also well-known that the recipient rarely got the long end of the stick. “You promise me that you’ll call this new man of yours and I’ll let you be on your way.”

Morgana had no way of knowing if he’d actually called the man or not, so Arthur could easily lie: “That’s all? I’m almost let down, Morgana. Usually, you go for more pain and gain.”

Morgana smirked, “I’ll be stopping by your office first thing tomorrow morning to look at your phone’s call history. You said it yourself, Mordred told me everything- including your little crush’s number.”

Arthur’s fake smile dropped in an instant. Morgana started walking ahead of him, releasing his arm as she went. She clasped her hands together.

“The call must be made by midnight tonight and last more than five minutes,” she continued.

Arthur gathered some sense of semblance, “Or else what?”

Morgana kept walking, sending a final smirk over her shoulder.

“What grounds could you possibly have for threatening me?” Arthur called after her.

She turned out of sight. Arthur’s shoulders finally drooped and his muscles unclenched. Whatever Morgana thought she had on him, Arthur could handle it. He would call the mysterious man on his own terms when Arthur was ready. Which...would probably be as soon as he could get released from this meeting with his father, but Morgana didn’t need to know that.

Arthur was mentally rehearsing what he’d say on the phone call- and simultaneously chastising himself for acting like a lovesick teenager -when he entered Uther’s office for their meeting (on time).

It was only when Arthur turned from closing the office door that he noticed Morgana lounging in an armchair in the center of the spacious room. Uther was sitting behind his desk, characteristically frowning. And Arthur was well and truly-”

“Papa was well and truly what, Aunt Morgana?” Thea asked, when Morgana hesitated in her storytelling.

Arthur shook awake at the sound of Thea’s “Papa”.

“I was going to say he was uh- cursed. He was well and truly cursed.”

“Oh, okay,” Thea nodded, as if she understood it all very well.

“Can we keep going?” Daegal asked, softly from his bed.

Arthur yawned, “Just a little bit more.”

Morgana complied, “Arthur was trapped, once again. He stepped further into his father’s office warily, but with purpose. Never let it be said that Arthur Pendragon went go down without pride.

“Father,” Arthur greeted, “Morgana.”

“Arthur,” Uther replied, “I’m glad you’ve finally joined us. We have important matters to go over.”

Arthur stopped at an acceptable proximity to Uther’s desk and Morgana’s chair, but kept a direct route to the door.

“I’m sorry I’m late, father,” Arthur apologized, even though he knew for a fact that he had arrived right when expected.

“Don’t be silly, Arthur. You’re right on time, just like always,” Morgana said, an underlying joke to her words.

She was making fun of him for caring so much about Uther’s rules and opinion, but Arthur didn’t know how to operate any other way. He wasn’t like Morgana in that he could keep a familial relationship with Uther and still run things his own way.

Uther ignored them both, “Camelot has come far, reaching new heights every season. Our name is known throughout the fashion empire and our products are reputable. There is respect in this company and I have worked hard to have it so.”

Morgana kept quiet, but Uther was clearly waiting for a reply. Arthur gave it to him:

“Yes, father. I agree; Camelot is known throughout the United Kingdom for its value.”

“Not just the Queen’s country, but we’ve captured American buyers too,” Morgana corrected, pleasing Uther before Arthur even realized he’d made a mistake, “And our name as well as our value is trusted and renown.”

Uther nodded, “However. From all my hard work, I deserve a break and thus, I must be sure that when you take my place at the head of this company, Arthur, you will be ready to lead with the same conducts that I instilled in you.”

“Of course, father. I will do my best to honor the work that you have already accomplished, I only worry that the company still needs your leading hand, not mine.”

Arthur could connect the dots fast enough to realize that his father was covering his illness- which now appeared more severe than Arthur had anticipated -with this flimsy excuse of “deserving a break”. For Uther Pendragon would never voluntarily step down and nobody, except possibly Death, could make him.

“That is why,” Uther replied, “I have taken the liberty to make a list of acceptable suitors for you. So that you may wed as soon as possible and be best equipped for all the trials you will face as the leader of Camelot.”

Arthur gaped, mouth just slightly ajar. He had not seen that coming. Not at all. In fact, of all the things that his father might have demanded from Arthur as a final parting wish, finding a life partner was not even in the range of possibilities that Arthur’s mind supplied. But perhaps, it ought to have been. For this wouldn’t be the first time Uther had tried to set Arthur up with some well-known designer or up-and-coming supermodel. It was simply the first time Uther had been so blunt about it.

Arthur shut his mouth, jaw locked. This was not a discussion, this was a command. Defiance against such a demand would not be met kindly, Arthur knew (from experience). He had to think of another way to escape this metaphorical trap.

Arthur glanced at Morgana for her reaction, but his dear sister was smiling that same dangerous smile of hers, letting Arthur know that this was exactly as she had planned. This was what she had been threatening him with earlier. For when partnering Arthur off, Uther often looked to Morgana for news about new and promising men and women in the field. (She was the gossip in the family, after all.)

“If I could make a suggestion, father?” Morgana spoke up through the silence, her mask of compliance was making an appearance now.

Uther nodded slowly, just once. Arthur braced for the worst. Morgana’s lips twitched.

“I was just thinking,’ Morgana started, “Why not make a little event out of this? With the company’s spring designing about to start next month, wouldn’t it be a perfect way to end the fall season? And, of course, it wouldn’t have to take away from Arthur’s big decision, but it could quiet any questions from the press about ‘why now?’.”

Uther’s hand went to his chin in a classical representation of thought. Arthur waited for the verdict.

“An event, yes. We should have an event for Arthur to find a fiancé. If we had a celebration to mark the end of the fall season this year, the press would expect it to start being an annual event. We can tell the press it’s for Arthur’s twenty-third birthday, instead.”

It was Morgana’s turn to gawk at Uther, “Arthur’s birthday? But that’s in two weeks, father, how could we possibly-”

“It will get done. See to it that it does, Morgana.” This was Uther’s decree. It would be followed to the tee. Morgana, it seemed, now had her own command to complete.

It was Arthur’s turn to attempt a bargain, “Father, a whole event just for me to find a suitable partner seems quite unnecessary. Besides, I haven’t had a birthday party in years and it’s-”

Arthur stopped, mid-sentence, freezing his train of thought: it was the same day that Arthur’s mom died giving birth to him. To celebrate such a thing seems terribly sadistic and disrespectful and wrong.

Uther responded, “I see your point, Arthur: if we’re going to do this we have to do this right. That's why we’ll do a big event, a ball of sorts, where only approved single candidates are invited and allowed entrance. I’ll have my assistant get started with the invitations immediately.”

Arthur opened his mouth the try to protest in some way, any way. To get through to the sensible part of his father’s brain, but Morgana was already speaking and it was as if Arthur was standing between an unstoppable force and an immovable object.

“That sounds lovely, father, but your assistant already does so much and I happen to be in between cases. Wouldn’t it be simpler to allow me to handle the invitations?” Morgana prodded.

Uther contemplated the request. Arthur, with lack of any other persuasive mechanisms save throwing a fit, chose to glare at Morgana hoping he could somehow goad the universe into denying Morgana’s plans from coming to fruition.

The universe did not comply. (Arthur must have done something horrible in his past life.)

“Yes, but only on the condition that I personally check all the recipients on the guest list,” Uther allowed.

“Of course, that would be a given,” Morgana agreed.

“Good. That will be all, then,” Uther declared.

Arthur stood, jaw unlocked, eyes wide, and brain coming up empty. There was simply no way out of this one. Uther’s days were (apparently) numbered- if his request (read:demand) that the ball be held in two week’s time was anything to go by. Now, Arthur had been working to break out of the mold of complete compliance with his father’s orders since just before he had first met the mystery man the first time. But his fortitude stood no chance against his father’s dying wish- which this clearly was. No matter that Arthur didn’t want to marry just yet, no matter that he wanted to marry on his own terms when he was ready. Arthur would go to this ball and meet all the guests and find someone that he liked and go from there. No need to hear wedding bells already. Arthur had time and so did his father. They were two strong men who would not go down without a fight.

“Wonderful. Arthur has to go make a call, but I'll be sure to start on those invitations right away,” Morgana said.

And then Arthur was reminded of the mystery man from the coffee shop and his heart didn’t feel so heavy. He would find a way to get that man into the ball. If he had to make a deal with Morgana for that to happen, then so be it. Arthur clenched his jaw shut, determined.

And then he went to his bed and fell fast asleep,” Morgana finished.

“That’s not what happened,” Thea complained.

“You’re right,” Morgana conceded, “But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night to hear the rest. Your papa’s too tired for anymore tonight.”

“But we’re not tired,” Daegal replied, showing rare resistance.

“You heard your aunt,” Arthur spoke up through a yawn, “Time for bed.” It was a testament to how hard he was working these days that Arthur was falling asleep during storytelling at eight o’clock at night.

“Aww, but papa,” Thea whinned.

“Come on, darlings. The faster you fall asleep, the sooner tomorrow will arrive,” Morgana reminded her godchildren. It was a phrase she often used to get them to lie down. It hadn’t lost its truth in all these years.

“Okay, auntie,” Thea sighed. She detangled herself from Arthur’s grasp and climbed onto her own bed adjacent to her brothers’.

Daegal nodded his little head and shimmied his way further under the covers.

Arthur kissed them on the head and met Morgana by the door and they all said their goodnights.