#mission accomplished (aesthetic; leon) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wipdfic · 7 years

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Re: Crystal’s Call Ch. 2

Ok, I swear. This is going to happen. If it kills me I’m going to start posting shit again and actually finish my stories! Good lord, my motivation game is so friggin’ WEAK! Anyway...

Central Operations for PendraCor International was located in the heart of downtown Somerset, a ways south of Camelot University where a good many of PendraCor’s employees had been educated. It was a sprawling place, made largely of glass and steel with buildings connected to buildings, labs, offices, recreation areas, fitness facilities, restaurants, and canteens, all for employees to enjoy. It was practically a small town!

Working at the PendraCor main campus was a dream for many. For others, it was so much a part of their life that the novelty of the place had long lost its luster. The sleek, modern design could feel as cold as the steel it was made from; it’s glass walls a prison keeping the outside world just out of reach.

Arthur stifled a yawn as he did his best to sit up straight in the uncomfortable wooden chair outside his father’s office so as not to wrinkle his uniform shirt or trousers. The thing looked more like a sculpture than a chair and clearly had been chosen for aesthetics rather than for practical uses like sitting. Of course, they were perfect for the look of the office, decorated with a minimalist’s eye from the frameless geometric paintings on the walls to the frosted glass door that separated Uther from his waiting area. Even the young man typing away in the corner preparing for another day of assisting Uther however needed looked like he’d been designed for the space. Arthur sighed recognizing how much the bloody chair was a metaphor for so much of what his father did. Appearances had always been important to Uther, not matter what was sacrificed for the sake of those appearances.

At least he wasn’t alone in his suffering. Leon sat beside him on a matching monstrosity, stoically waiting in true military fashion. Leon had always been better at the obnoxious formalities. He looked like he could sit there forever if necessary, no hint of discomfort in his body language. It was only through years of friendship that Arthur could tell that the other man was just as anxious to be done with this as he was.

These early morning meetings with the General were far from being on Arthur’s list of favorite things. He didn’t mind the hour—after growing up in a house with a man who considered it a lay-in if you were allowed to be up by sun-up instead of well before, early mornings were something that Arthur was quite acquainted with. No, it was the part where he had to meet with his father that made Arthur wish he could be anywhere else.

The operation had run relatively well the night before, with Alvarr and his accomplices delivered safely into the hands of Uther’s Intelligence division. To anyone else, it was easily the Dragons’ biggest success since they were assigned the task of locating Morgana. But his sister was still not home safe, yet. That made the mission a failure, and in the eyes of Uther Pendragon, such a failure was unacceptable.

As commanding officer, any fault that could be found in the execution of the operation should fall to Leon. He called the shots and in turn should take the heat. They both were well aware, however, that things worked a bit differently in Uther’s world. Since the general had pulled Arthur and the other Dragons-in-training from University to continue their education independently and their training in the field, he’d laid some very high expectations on Arthur. The only reason that Uther had not put the team in Arthur’s hands as soon as the hunt for Morgana had begun was because he still had sense enough to know that putting an untested Officer Cadet in command of a trained military unit was a recipe for disaster.

However, from what Arthur could tell, in Uther’s mind, Arthur should have been ready to lead in spite of all the logical reasons that he could not. It was a failing whose blame he seemed to place fully on Arthur, and every time they returned from a mission without Morgana, Arthur could practically see his father’s disappointment with him grow deeper. And didn’t it just burn that despite all the disturbing things that Arthur had learned of his father, he still shrank in the face of the general’s disappointment?

He cleared his throat softly, shifting in his chair and causing it to squeal loudly in the quiet of the morning. It was always odd to see the PendraCor campus so still. Most of the technicians and engineers were still in transit at this hour, leaving a calm that felt full of tension to Arthur. Likely because the only times he was on the premises at this hour were when he had to meet with his father. It was hard to believe that after all that Arthur had accomplished in his life, after the achievements and successes that outshone most anyone else his age, the very thought of his father’s disappointment was enough to make him feel like a child again. That, above all else, was what he hated about these meetings. No matter what he did, it seemed as if there would never be anything good enough to earn his father’s praise. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but one he was able to accept more with each passing day as he found his own path. He could just imagine his father’s face if he knew what Arthur was up to whilst he was not looking.

It was ironic really. In the past months, as the speed of magic’s decay had increased in Albion and the world at large, Uther had become one of the most outspoken supporters of sorcerers and finding ways to keep their magic alive. He was adamant about offering aide to sorcerers by getting his enhancers out to the entire magic community. Of course, this was a ploy of some kind. Uther had made it clear on several occasions his opinion of sorcerers and how they couldn’t be trusted with the power they were born to. The question was what Uther was really up to, and whilst his father wore the mask of friendship to achieve his goals, Arthur lie in wait to discover his plans and ruin them as only Arthur could.

“It’ll be fine,” Leon said, startling Arthur from his thoughts. The other man was so still and quiet, Arthur had practically forgotten that he was there. “We achieved our objective last night. There’s not a lot he can say about this one.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched up in a wry smile. “It’s a lovely dream, Captain, but we both know—”

The door to his father’s office swung open, cutting off the comment. Arthur stood, preparing to enter, but halted when a tall, hawkish looking man exited. His white-blonde hair was slicked back with product, his weathered skin covered in so many tattoos it was difficult to tell what his natural skin tone had once been. There was something very off about the man; something that set Arthur’s skin to crawling and sparked a familiar tugging sensation just behind his navel. He tensed as those hawkish eyes fell on him, watching him shrewdly for a long moment. Arthur had no idea what to make of the man or the look, but he knew instinctively that he didn’t like either. Before he could give a proper response, his father’s voice broke the tension of the moment.

“Arthur, Captain Knightly, you may enter,” he called. Arthur looked away and stepped towards the open door, pausing as Leon entered first and taking the opportunity to direct a final look to the man’s back as he retreated down the hall. When the man turned a corner, Arthur pushed all thoughts of him to the side for later examination. He needed to focus his attention on more pressing matters. Like attempting to appease a father who accepted nothing short of the impossible as success.

He strode into the office and took his place at Leon’s side, standing at attention and waiting to be acknowledged. The General proceeded to ignore them both, reading through something on a small tablet he was holding as he reclined behind the large wooden desk that took up a not insignificant portion of the corner office.

He scrolled through the information slowly, tapping here, typing there, going about his business as if his son and one of his senior officers were not standing before him waiting for his attention. Arthur was just beginning to fight off the urge to fidget when Uther finally spoke.

“There was another attack on one of our major distribution centers last night,” he said, eyes never leaving his tablet. “The third this month. Another fifteen hundred of our Arcana line of products damaged or destroyed by these renegades.” At this he set the tablet down, removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Such ungrateful creatures, these sorcerers. Even when given a chance at taking their fading power back, they still choose to slap away the hand of friendship I offer and instead turn to this barbaric method of theft, stealing power from mundane and arcane alike.” He pushed the tablet away as if disgusted.

Arthur maintained a neutral face, even while his insides seethed at this father’s hypocrisy.

“This must be stopped,” Uther said, looking up at last, cutting his eyes towards the two men standing before him. “I will not suffer the citizens of this good country to be terrorized by these vermin. I’ve read through your report, Captain. Thorough as usual. Please share my commendations with the rest of your team for a job well done. There are additional matters that I would like to discuss with my son. He will bring you my report when we have finished. For now, you are dismissed.”

“Sir!” Leon offered a smart salute, taking Uther’s departure from standard procedure in stride, as he always did. Usually, any information a team needed was given directly to their captain, and a more thorough debrief would take place after such a major operation. They both knew why Leon was being dismissed, and Arthur could do nothing but mentally brace himself as best he could as he was left alone to take on the full brunt of his father’s displeasure. Nothing unusual there.

“Now,” Uther began, after a few beats of silence once the door was closed. “I’d like to hear what happened from you, Arthur.”

Arthur recognized that particular note of disapproval in his father’s voice well, but could only guess at its source. All he could do was report as ordered, so he did. He gave a concise but detailed explanation of the operation that had taken place the night before and his role in it, leaving out certain specifics that Uther didn’t need to know about. His father’s hatred of magic and those who were born with it had made itself more apparent in recent months as matters in the magic world drew closer and closer to crisis. With the added personal knowledge that Uther had taken sorcerers in the past against their will and stripped them of their magic, and was likely still doing so, Arthur knew that he had to keep Merlin’s involvement in the weapons they used the strictest of secrets, and Uther could never know that Arthur had helped two sorcerers escape.

“The target was delivered for interrogation at twenty-three thirty last night,” he finished.

“Yes, he was,” Uther agreed. Arthur hated it when his father agreed with him. It always felt like a trap, and usually was. “He was delivered and interrogated last night, along with his colleagues. Would you like to know what we discovered?”

Arthur said nothing, knowing the question required no answer.

“It would seem that Morgana had been there, in that very building, not one day before your team arrived.”

Arthur swallowed back the bile and bitterness that arose with that revelation. So close...

“Less than one day, Arthur,” Uther repeated. “Hours. Perhaps had you been more vigilant, you would have made it there in time to bring her home!”

Arthur took several deep breaths through his nose, eyes carefully focused out the window behind his father’s desk as he fought to control his temper. This was nothing new. It seemed that Uther’s favorite pastime was blaming Morgana’s abduction on Arthur.

“Father,” he began, voice steady but only just. “You know that we have been exhausting every resource for the past six months to find her.”

“Have you? I’m beginning to wonder.”

Arthur bit back his reply to that. How dare his father insinuate that Arthur was not doing everything in his power to find Morgana and get her back? Uther had changed since that day at the school when everything fell apart. While he had never been a particularly fuzzy sort, there had always been faint signs of affection; signs that despite his failings, Uther was a father who loved his children. All vestiges of warmth had seemingly evaporated over the past few months, and the General only seemed to grow colder and harder the longer Morgana’s abduction continued.

“You were the one who exposed her to that boy. Sorcerous filth hiding within your own ranks. Were you not my own son I would wonder if you had been intentionally hiding him from me, but I refuse to believe that you would betray me in such a way.”

Arthur sighed inside and settled in for another one of his father’s rants. This was not the first time that he’d heard these words, and he was sure that it would not be the last. Not until Morgana was found, and Arthur was beginning to wonder if it would be safe to bring her home at all. Much as he hated to think about it, he didn’t know what state Morgana would be in after her captivity, didn’t know how she would be responding to the steady fade of magic in the world, and if something were to happen and Uther were to find out about Morgana’s power...

The knowledge was old, but it still pained Arthur that he didn’t trust his father. He hadn’t for a while. Not since a chance encounter with a twig of a boy who didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut upended his life the year before. Merlin. Despite his father’s harsh words ringing through his ears, a line of warmth traveled from his chest to his groin, settling to pool in that spot low in his belly. There was not a day that went by that Arthur didn’t think of Merlin and wonder where he was, how he was doing. Perhaps most importantly, what he was doing.

Rumors had spread like wildfire through the magical community that the Emrys had been found. The Sorcerers of the world had a leader again after nearly twenty years going without, but their Emrys was proving to have a tendency towards the mysterious. He had yet to announce or show himself formally at all, and that absence was beginning to raise doubts of his ability in some and doubts of his existence in others.

“...reason to believe that the boy is not all he claimed to be.

Arthur tuned in very quickly to his father’s last words, clearly referring to Merlin. He felt his heartrate increase in concern.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors by now,” Uther continued. “The sorcerers seem to believe that they have an Emrys again, one who has been in hiding all these years, but is now making his presence known. I have reason to believe that this Emrys is the one responsible for the attacks on our distribution centers. And there is evidence that suggests the boy could be involved; possibly could himself be the mysterious Emrys who has yet to be seen.”

Arthur had to fight very hard to feign indifference. His thoughts were flooded with the possible outcomes of his father learning Merlin’s secret, none of them good.

“Do you see how insidious the work is of these creatures, Arthur? They are corrupt to the core. The power they possess warping them from within. You thought the boy was a friend, but the whole time you knew him, he was lying to you. I have no doubt that he played a part in your sister’s kidnapping, working through you to get to her. To what end, I won’t even try to imagine, but you will get her back. You will not allow any past feelings of camaraderie to cause you to hesitate, and you will do whatever you must to end him and bring Morgana home. Dismissed.”

The abrupt end to the discussion left Arthur reeling. He gave a smart salute to the General, turned on his heel and exited. As soon as he was out of the office, he took a moment to school his features before turning and continuing down the hall towards the building’s exit, thoughts rushing through his mind as he went. He knew that it was likely that his father would make the connections – he was one of the greatest scientific minds of his time, after all – but that knowledge didn’t prepare him for the fist to the gut of knowing that his father was aware of Merlin’s true identity.

His mind couldn’t help but drift back to that night so many months before; the frantic terror of it and the chaos that followed. His lips tingled at the memory of a warm, wet mouth; a body arching under his touch. Even after all this time, he could still taste Merlin’s pleasure on his tongue. A taste that soured with fear and pain as the memory of the rest of that evening came back to him. So much had happened so quickly, he still had a hard time processing it all. He remembered those few perfect moments in his residence on the couch with Merlin moaning under him, then the pounding of his heart as Merlin cried out in broken-hearted agony, pushing away from him and sprinting madly out the door.

Arthur had called his team together then, knowing somehow that something horrible had happened. He’d been right. They’d faced off with two of the most powerful sorceresses alive and discovered that they were holding Morgana in thrall. She was already lost then, though he hadn’t known it at the time. He’d only known that the women he was facing were dangerous, and that Merlin needed him. That had been the night Arthur learned of Merlin’s status as Emrys, and immediately had colorfully demonstrated why it had been so important for Merlin to have hidden for so long.

The memories always got fuzzy at this point. There were still many holes in his recollection, and he knew he had Merlin and Emrys to thank for that, sending a tiny shiver up his spine. He had only just learned about the legend of Emrys that night as well, but he had first-hand experience with the creature. He clearly remembered staring into the uncaring eyes of that stranger who wore Merlin’s face. He remembered the dispassion with which Emrys assessed a situation and decided upon a course of action; a beautiful and terrifying sight. Terrifying enough to spook Morgause into fleeing and taking Morgana with her.

When it was over, Arthur’s mind had been oddly blank of the past several minutes, leaving him scrambling for figurative footing as he found himself alone in the ruined garden, Gaius and the rest of his Dragons calling for him from the entrance. Uther had come, and Arthur had told him an altered version of the events that had taken place. He’d told his father most of what had happened, but when it came to telling where Merlin had gone, he found that he could only say that the other boy had run away. His magic discovered, Merlin had run. To his knowledge, that was the story that his father believed. So how had he drawn the conclusion that Merlin was the mysterious Emrys they were just starting to hear rumors about?

“You look dimmer than usual there, princess.” A warm body appeared at Arthur’s side, drawing him from his musings. He didn’t need to look to know that it was Gwaine, his usual cavalier smile in place. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Not here,” Arthur grumbled. “Where are the others?”

“Waiting to hear from their fearless leader in the barracks.”

Arthur snorted, shaking his head. “I’m no more leader of this outfit than you are, and you know it, Gwaine.”

Not that his father saw it that way. The entire team knew that it was only a matter of time before command was taken from Leon and given to Arthur. He was just glad that the team didn’t seem to hold it against him. Probably because they could see that it wasn’t something Arthur was exactly thrilled about himself.

He pushed those thoughts from his mind as he made his way across the PendraCor campus, Gwaine at his side. ‘The Barracks’ was the name that his team had given to the small bungalow they’d been given on campus to store their tools, gather information, and plan attacks when they weren’t at their main base. The fact that Uther was essentially funding and controlling his own small division of the Albion Armed Forces was not exactly legal, but with all that Uther was providing in weapons and consumer technology, it came as no small surprise that no one was making any efforts to stop him. Even when he was brazen enough to host soldiers on his company’s property.

“The conference room has been cleared?”

Gwaine clutched at his chest in his usual melodramatic manner. “I’m crushed. You don’t trust us to follow SOP?”

Arthur knew damn well that Gwaine and the others knew how important it was to sweep any of their meeting locations for bugs. Security sweeps were required anywhere near PendraCor labs, and doubly so for the military units on the campus. But that wasn’t the kind of clearance that Arthur was referring to. The discussion would undoubtedly turn to magic, possibly in ways that his father would not approve of. The last thing that they needed was to be overheard. There was an entirely different kind of sweep that they had access to, again, thanks to the mysterious packages Arthur had been receiving for the past half-year.

Gwaine’s seemingly noncommittal response verified that not only was the room clear of bugs, magical or otherwise, but that there were no hangers-on wandering about. The least pleasant experience for all involved were the times when the Dragons had to share space with other members of the special forces that sometimes visited looking for weapons upgrades of a non-standard variety.

“Good,” Arthur said as he made his way to join the team. “I have news.” He didn’t say much more on the way to the barracks as his mind was occupied with other things. Like how much of this he was going to be sharing with the team as a whole. It was one thing to share information about Merlin with his core group--Gwaine, Lance, Percival, Elyan; the ones that he’d been placed in charge of when they were all still at uni. It was a different story altogether to share that information with the other members of the Dragons.

They were good men, all, but they had been living in a world poisoned by the lies his father had been spreading for years. He wasn’t sure where they stood in terms of magic and those who wielded it. He was sure that they were unaware of what his father was doing with the sorcerers they captured, but he didn’t know how they would react once they found out. Being his father’s son, it was difficult to suss out people’s true feelings about the way things worked at PendraCor because everyone assumed that he shared in his father’s views fully. If only they knew how far from the truth that really was.

“I want to meet with the others.” he told Gwaine as they approached their briefing room. “Our place, after the briefing.”

“On it, your highness.”

“None of that today, Gwaine,” Arthur grumbled, not rising to the bait as he usually would. “I’m in no mood for it.”

“Gods, cheer up Arthur!” the other man laughed as they walked through the door. “Whatever the General told you can’t be all that bad. You look like you’ve just learned one of your bollocks is falling off!”

“That would be a right tragedy,” Owain called out. “He’s only got the one last I checked.”

“Right, and you would know, wouldn’t you?” Percival called back.

“Can’t help I’ve got a proper view in the communals.”

The comment was met with raucous laughter and Arthur felt some of the tension leave his body. He’d spent almost every day of the past six months with these men. They were his brothers in arms, and as close to family as he had ever known. Closer in some cases. There was a lot that Arthur had to worry about, many things that were dangerous and wrong happening around him, and divisive actions that would need to be taken, but for the time being, it was good enough to be amongst friends after the morning he’d just had. He felt a smile pull at his lips as the banter continued around him.

“Clearly not proper enough,” Gwaine returned, happily jumping into the train of conversation, throwing an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “We all know our Wart has a pair of big, hairy, heavy, dangling--”

“I do plan on starting this briefing some time this century, Gwaine.” Leon drawled, taking his place at the front of the group, thus cutting Gwaine off before he really got going. It was a well-known fact that Gwaine could go on for ages once he hit his stride.

“Just being a good mate, sir,” the other man smiled cheekily, tossing his hair back with a shake of his head.

“Try keeping your sweaty pants off my face towel,” Arthur drawled. “It’d go a sight farther, I’d say.”

Snickers peppered the room as Leon gave a long-suffering sigh before clearing his throat. The room settled as the team shifted their minds to business. Now that Arthur had arrived the briefing could begin.

“Well,” Leon began, “I haven’t much to say since the General only saw fit to have me pass his commendations to the team for an operation well done.” There were a few snorts of laughter in response to this. “Seeing as Arthur was with the General for a while after I left, I can only assume that he’ll be able to give a more thorough overview of our next objective?”

All eyes turned to Arthur, something that was frustratingly growing increasingly more commonplace. It wasn’t that Arthur had a problem with speaking to the team and disseminating information on his father’s behalf, it was the simple fact that it wasn’t really his place. This was information that should have been given to and coming from Leon. But his father would have his way, so Arthur shook off the irritation as usual and offered what information he had.

“The General was not best pleased that we did not come home with Morgana, as usual. But he was in a particularly foul mood because apparently, we were a day short in being there at the same time as she was being held there.” The team remained silent at the news, expressions speaking of the same frustration that Arthur felt. “We’re to redouble our efforts in finding her.” This did spark a few derisive snorts in the room but Arthur ignored them. “The General has a new theory on who has taken Morgana, and it might prove useful in our search.”

This immediately got the team’s full attention, but it was here that Arthur hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure how he should proceed from this point. Bringing up his father’s theory about the Emrys’ involvement in Morgana’s kidnapping would mean explaining about Merlin, who, to date, had not been mentioned to the rest of the team. Only those who had been there knew of Merlin and his magic and how it had anything to do with Arthur. He examined his thoughts carefully, considering the possible long-term ramifications of this briefing; of anything he might say, anything he might expose. These were intelligent men he was working with. He was certain that once he began, there would be questions and the very real possibility of getting talked into a position where he would be forced to explain more than he was ready to. He couldn’t be sure of the outcome were he to reveal everything to these men, so he did the only thing he could: he stalled.

“What have you heard about these rumors of a new Emrys surfacing within the magical community?” He asked, hoping for inspiration and at least some idea of how the others might respond to Arthur’s connection to and knowledge of the sorcerer’s Emrys.

“Load of bollocks and pixie-dust if you ask me,” Pellinore muttered. The comment was clearly not for the group, but the room was small and everyone was sitting close. It was impossible for the words to go unheard. Arthur smirked on the inside. Inspiration.

“Speak up, soldier,” Arthur barked, without heat. It was an expected method of address and no one in the team even blinked at the sudden change of tone. “You have an opinion, let’s hear it.”

All eyes fell on the team’s technical expert. The position he held made Pellinore one of the most logical thinkers in the group. The moment a problem was presented he was outlining possible solutions, and he was always the first to point out possible flaws in any strategies they devised. A gruff type, he was thin and dark but made of solid muscle. Quiet until you got him going, then all bets were off. It was Pell’s tendency to run off at the mouth that Arthur was counting on now, and he could tell that there was a rant fresh on the other man’s mind, ripe and ready to fall.

“Well it hardly makes sense, does it?” Pellinore started, rolling his shoulders and leaning back in his seat. He had that look about him like what he was saying was obvious and anyone who didn’t get it was clearly too dumb to bother with. “Middle of the biggest magic drought the world has ever seen, and where is he? ‘He’s in hiding,’ they say. ‘He’s protecting himself. Keeping safe from his enemies.’ What bloody fuckin’ enemies!? What’s he got to hide from?”

“You see the shite that lot’s doing to latents and each other and you’re askin’ that?” Owain countered, and Arthur felt himself tense just so. He hadn’t missed the way their sniper had summarily grouped magic users as though all sorcerers were to blame for the acts of a twisted few.

“But that’s just it!” Pellinore was getting into his stride now, sitting forward and looking each of them in the eye as he continued speaking. “The way the sorcerers are talking, this ain’t just any Emrys. This one’s supposed to be more powerful than anything anyone’s seen before. Makes the last Emrys look like a schoolchild and she’d been the strongest sorcerer born in ten generations. If this Emrys is supposed to be so great, then why’s he hiding? If he really had all that power, nothin’d be able to touch him.”

“You’re forgetting,” Arthur was mildly surprised to hear Lance’s steady voice join the discussion. “It’s barely been eighteen years since Emrys Vivianne passed. If there is an Emrys, he’d just be coming into his full potential. The Mark that would seal his power to him would have just barely finished forming. Until that point, he would have been just as vulnerable as any other sorcerer to having his power stolen. Worse, now, it seems as though the thieves are close to finding a way to steal magic from even those whose power is supposed to be Safe.”

“All the more reason that this Emrys should be here for his people. Sorcerers suffering, magic fading, and the best we get is rumors that some all-powerful Emrys is biding his time, waiting for the right moment to make himself known? Bull. Shite.” He accented each word with an emphatic finger jab in Lance’s direction. “All that power, plus an army of Warrior-Priest bodyguards, and he still won’t show his face? If there really were an Emrys, he’d sure as shite be doing a piss poor job of it.”

“No,” he continued, jaw working head shaking as if he were figuring out his thoughts as he spoke. “It’s textbook. A coping mechanism. Magic is fading. The sorcerers‘ bowels are loosening over it. There’s no sign of the Drought ending. People’s friends are vanishing into the night like a bad horror film; days and nights of constant fear. Out of nowhere, someone starts talking about this Emrys. But not just any Emrys. Uh-uh, any old Emrys won’t do. We have to have one who is made of magic.”

Arthur creased his brow hearing this. The rumors were so far sounding uncomfortably close to the truth. He had a sneaking suspicion that Merlin’s Catha bodyguard/agents were responsible for spreading these tales and making the significance of Merlin’s existence known to all.

“Next thing you know he’s actually here to bring magic back; to take us back to the good ole’ days when you couldn’t take a piss without stumblin’ over something mystical. He’s a saviour. Gonna swoop down like some god from a machine and make everyone and everything happy again.”

Heads around the room were nodding as they followed the other man’s logic. Pell was good at this. Even though Arthur knew for a fact that the man was wrong, he couldn’t deny that the argument made a lot of sense.

“This Emrys is the only hope the poor sods have that all of this is ever gonna end, ever gonna get better.” Pellinore made a small gesture with his hands, fingers curled then splayed as though flicking something into the air. “Bollocks and pixie-dust,” he said once more. “I just hope to be somewhere far, far away when the fairytale ends.”

The room fell into silence with those sobering words. Things were already bad. It was almost impossible to imagine what would happen if this last spark of hope were lost for a people already suffering so much.

“But I thought PendraCor’s Arcana line was supposed to be helping with all of this.”

Arthur hid a smile at the timid voice of Owain’s brother Gareth. He wasn’t the youngest among them, but he seemed to be, with his huge brown eyes and quiet disposition. Always hesitant to offer anything to the discussion or speak at all, really. It was hard to believe that he was in any way related to a loudmouth like Owain, or that he had any business working with the Dragons. That is, until you realized that the two brothers shared the record for shot accuracy both long and short range, and that Gareth could hack just about anything that resembled a computer in five minutes or less.

“Wasn’t that the whole point of even developing the magic enhancers?” he asked. “To help sorcerers get their power back? Aren’t they working?”

“Oh they’re working alright,” Gwaine answered, voice lacking any of his usual mirth. “Working a little too well.”

That only caused Gareth’s brow to crease deeply in confusion. Tristan, sitting beside him, offered a wide smile and an explanation:

“The enhancers do work, but they’re like any other piece of technology. They need power to keep going, but the power cells they run on can only last so long. There have been a few instances of sorcerers suffering mild symptoms of withdrawal when the power in the enhancers runs dry.”

“And guess who the only supplier of the power cells happens to be,” Gwaine added, giving Gareth a significant look.

“But the cells are affordable,” Gareth argued. “I’ve heard the General speaking on how he wants to make sure that anyone who needs the enhancers would have access to them.”

“It would still be putting a great deal of trust and dependency in the hands of another,” Tristan pointed out, not unkindly. “There are many sorcerers who don’t trust that PendraCor’s intentions are as altruistic as they seem.”

Tristan didn’t realize how much of an understatement that truly was. Arthur knew that his father was keeping the attacks on their distribution centers quiet, and for good reason. From the reports that Arthur had seen, it was obvious that the attacks were magical in nature, and there would be too much suspicion if the public were to learn that sorcerers were going to such great lengths to keep the devices off the market. Suspicion and concern that Arthur was feeling himself, the more he thought about his father’s behaviours and possible motivations.

Gareth was nodding as he processed what he’d just learned, and Tristan turned his eyes back to Arthur, brows raised. Arthur had to suppress the urge to shift uncomfortably. Friendly as the guy was, Arthur always got the impression that Tristan could see straight through him, an impression that was proven accurate, in this instance, when the man quirked his lips into a ghost of a smile and asked:

“So, what does any of this have to do with your conversation with the General, Arthur?”

Arthur gave a nod of acknowledgement. He’d stalled for time long enough. “The General believes that this rumored Emrys is responsible for Morgana’s disappearance,” he said, ignoring the wave of murmurs that swept the room. Here, he hesitated for just a moment before continuing, but the previous discussion had given him enough information to make a decision. “Furthermore, he has uncovered a possible identity for the Emrys. The information should have been transferred to your tablets by now.”

Arthur reached into his thigh pocket and pulled out the small tablet they’d each been assigned for the collection and distribution of mission data. He typed in his personal security code to unlock the device. As he suspected, there was a “New File” notification waiting for him on the screen. He tapped it to open the file, heart clenching as an achingly familiar face appeared. Big ears, goofy grin, wild dark hair, and eyes that were blue like crystal, piercing even when full of joy and laughter. He looked nothing at all like a dangerous criminal, and Arthur had to wonder who was responsible for selecting that particular image for the file.

“Gentlemen,” he announced, flipping the tablet so that the image was facing the rest of his team. “Allow me to present our target: one Merlin Ambrose.”

#fanfiction #wip #merlin #bbc's merlin #the crystal's call #emrys rising #fic revision #merthur #slash #slow burn?#old fic is old #writing

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