Camelot Enterprise

by GR Griffin

  “So you will fly with me?” the human druid asked hopefully, despite knowing he could well order the creature to do so in the Dragon tongue if he wanted. However, he wanted this to be a genuine agreement more than anything.

  “Son of Balinor,” Merlin intensified his gaze at the name, subconsciously leaning closer to the Dragon. Moments passed before jugdement was made. “It would be an honour.” Kilgarrah replied, triggering an elated smile. Merlin bought both his hands to his tousled dark hair. A shallow laugh escaped his lips in disbelief. The Dragon’s next words caught him off guard.

  “But what of the young Pendragon?”

  Biting his lip, Merlin turned away from Kilgarrah. The name, the name that had ruined everything. Arthur – was Arthur okay? No. Remember what he did – don’t pity him or even spare a thought for him. But it was too late. The name surrounded him, consumed him. He didn’t realise he was pacing back and forth until he spotted his shadow moving across the ground rather rapidly. Abruptly he came to a halt and turned to the Dragon, hoping he didn’t see the tears staining his eyes.

  “He betrayed us.”

  Of all things, Merlin had hardly expected the Dragon to laugh. Narrowing his eyes, Merlin studied the creature curiously, awaiting some kind of explanation.

  “That is not how I see this story,” Kilgarrah said wisely. “Arthur is your other half (Merlin’s eyes darkened dangerously), your-”

  “-He means nothing to me.” Merlin’s broken, cracked voice suggested otherwise, barely sounding over the Dragon’s words. Kilgarrah stared pensively at the mighty warlock before continuing.

  “To win this fight young warlock, you need Arthur’s help-“

  “-To win this fight, we need the other druid clans-” Merlin snapped bitterly, tension rising in his body.

  “-You cannot win without the help of the Once and Future-”

  “-FORSUWUNG!” Merlin roared viciously in the dragon tongue, instantly silencing the beast before him. Raising his hand towards Kilgarrah, he glowered menacingly. A gust of wind swirled around Merlin wildly, enshrouding him in an aura of power. His anger continued, voice loud and prevailing in the cave. “NÁWA MÆNAN Æ NAMA!”

  Then the whirlwind dissipated, revealing Merlin’s tormented expression. The amber hue of the flames didn’t quite reach his cerulean eyes. Swallowing-hard, he lowered his hand and pleadingly met the Dragon’s eyes, because Kilgarrah had to understand that this was a complicated matter with devastating repercussions. Arthur Pendragon may well have been prophisised to be the Once and Future, but his actions hardly suggested this. Just thinking about him was too much. Shaking his head, Merlin allowed a shallow sigh to escape his lips.

  “Náwa.”

  Lifting his head, Kilgarrah sighed almost knowingly. Merlin heavily disliked it, the Dragon’s apparent omniscience and wisdom was unnerving. It were as if somehow, Kilgarrah knew things. Not to mention the blinding belief the creature seemed to have in Arthur Pendragon despite his wrongdoings and great betrayal- that above all things concerned Merlin the most. There was silence for a few more minutes. Then the Dragon seemed to frown, meeting the young man’s eyes.

  “Very well young warlock, but in time you will see.”

  With that, he bowed his head, allowing Merlin to hoist himself onto his back. Nothing, not even Kilgarrah’s warning to ‘hold on tight’, could have prepared him for what happened next. In a sudden instant, the majestic wings of the Dragon flapped from side to side, instigating the small stones on the ground to rise and coil in the air. A vociferous roar escaped Kilgarrah’s mouth; Merlin flinched and uttered a small spell for the safety for his ears in fear his eardrums may well spontaneously explode. Then his surroundings became nothing but a blur, the wind pelting against his face. Kilgarrah shot up into the air. They were out of the large crevasse in seconds, and into the sky within half a minute.

  Merlin was flying a Dragon, the Dragon.

  Notes:

  TRANSLATIONS:

  Calhoun - Warrior

  Heorðgeneats - Fellow Friends

  Fleogan uo Ionem, Fullmægen eist tĥaie - Fly to Ionem, (Will's Wyvern) is there

  Forsuwung - Enough

  Náwa - Never

  DRUID SONG:

  Ne Gamnian ein eorðscræf

  Gamnain ein hërŕan

  Bœe, Dræɡən ein eorðscræf

  Ĥaie néadunga fretan!

  Do not play in the old caves,

  play here where we can see ,

  Because, Dragons live in the old caves,

  And they will eat you up!

  DRAGONLORD SPEECH / DRAGON SCENE (**note this is DIFFERENT to the one used in 2x13, because Merlin is not asking the same thing of Kilgarrah, the context is completely different. I only used on phrase from the actual Merlin Script. So I spent a while researching and deciding what words would be best to use**).

  O Dræɡən! Gehlystan min hleoðor, eald broðor. Car grise áþes. Domdæg gretan. Forðfor ac sceadu awiergan Aęniän. ætgædere Dræɡən, wé sculan hælan úre ğelendë. Íc behéfþ eower fullæst, héahgesceaft.

  Dragon! Listen to my voice, ancient brother. You will obey my command. Judgment day approaches. Death and darkness engulf Albion. Together Dragon, we must save our land. I need your help, noble creature.

  Forgiefan mé, Hăbban nic ingehygd œf þisne. Fliógan eac mé - Forgive me, I had no intention of this. Fly with me.

  NÁWA MÆNAN Æ NAMA - Never mention that name again!

  Chapter 44

  “So, what’s the plan?” a well-dressed Leon asked, sitting awkwardly in one of Arthur’s chairs.

  Morgana, dressed in a sleek emerald dress and matching heels, was sat by the large coffee table of Arthur’s familiar apartment, watching the television screen feed lies and garbage. She felt a pang of anger when the ‘Albion Project’ was briefly mentioned, referred to as ‘a great energy expedition’. If only they knew what was really going on in Albion. This was no expedition; this was nothing but cruel and ruthless domination. Lancelot, wearing a chic grey suit, was engaged with the story. He picked apart their words meticulously. Every strand of this story was false; it had clearly been fabricated by PR to ensure morale was kept high (and to of course hide the hideous genocide). Meeting Morgana’s eyes, they shared a morose look.

  Arthur adjusted the navy tie uncomfortably in the hallway mirror. A frown etched onto his face as he studied his appearance. He hadn’t worn a suit for a long time; he wondered how on earth he used to wear it every day. It was so constricting and confining, even of a person’s personality. He hardly looked like himself at all. To think six months ago he had never even really left this miserable, glum city. He had been so narrow-minded, so intent on following every single order his father gave, so quick to comply without thinking through the consequences. Leon coughed subtly, gesturing he was expecting some kind of response from the blond man. Recollecting composure, Arthur turned to the curly-haired male. Ah.

  “Plan,” he sat down beside Leon, chewing the word over as if it were new and unfamiliar. “What plan?” Leon’s expression morphed into one of disbelief.

  “That’s a great plan.” Gwaine chirped from the kitchen between a mouthful, muttering to himself something about how much he had missed Oreos and real food.

  “But there is no plan.” Lancelot frowned, shooting Gwaine a look of disapproval when he shoved another biscuit into his mouth. Arthur realised perhaps his sarcastic comment had gone unnoticed and had been misinterpreted.

  Getting onto his feet, Arthur took a seat at the round coffee table, gesturing for Leon and Gwaine to do the same. When they were all seated around the round table, Arthur began to talk.

  “Word of our ‘treachery’ appears not to have left Albion yet.” He explained calmly. “I’m going to arrange a conference in headquarters, explaining that my father has fallen ill. Due to his sickness, I have now been put in charge of the project. I’ll tell them on my father’s behalf we must let the druid people go-”

  “-Arthur tha
t’s insane.” Morgana snapped, leaning across the table lividly. “Have you forgotten about Aredian, Aggravaine; Cenred? They’ll see right through your lie-”

  “-Too late,” Arthur absently interrupted. “I’ve already arranged the meeting for this afternoon. Besides, we can’t just waltz into the labs and start freeing the druids Morgana.” Arthur groaned. “There are people in charge, like Aredian, who could easily sabotage the whole plan. If I have them all in one room, success will be far more likely.”

  “Even if it did work,” Leon supplied calculatedly, having a little more faith in Arthur. “It would take weeks for such a negotiation to be passed.”

  “Who said anything about a negotiation?” Arthur interjected. Silence, pleasant surprise. “I’ll tell them it’s the only way the druids will allow for us to mine for oil in their land.” He replied. “We are desperate to meet our quarter, to fulfil our duty to our consumers. The board will do anything for the profit,” he smiled despondently. “Camelot has always been driven by greed.” Pause. Arthur’s smile became more genuine. “Once the signatories have signed the agreement, I will email the document to every Camelot Enterprise H.Q, thus passing a new business decree-”

  “-which is?” Gwaine asked curiously.

  “The Druid Appeasement Act: abolishment of all labs as of immediate effect.” Arthur pulled out a piece of paper from the folder on the table, holding it up in the air. Morgana studied the document, grinning at its authentic nature.

  “Did you make this?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Yes,” Arthur snatched the document back off her. “I have done this before you know. Just for different matters. Anyway,” he placed it carefully back into the folder, afriad her molesting would damage it. “Whilst I am appeasing the board, you will be in the lab, freeing the druids. I know this will take some time. Morgana, if you disable the alarms and round up the teleporting devices. Leon, you try and console the druids, let them know they have nothing to fear from us. Lancelot and Gwaine, you help usher the druids out. Some may be able to teleport back with magic, but others may be incredibly weak and will need assistance.” It was evident that Arthur wanted to try and stall his visit to the labs. He dreaded seeing what he had refused to concede all these years. Swallowing-hard, he stood up, folder in his hands.

  “The meeting begins in one hour and will finish at three. Once the meeting is over, I will go to my former office and dispatch the e-mail. When I have done that, I will meet you in the lab, and we will head back to Albion. Does everyone understand the plan?”

  The four figures nodded in response, all rising from their chairs. Reaching for the keys on the kitchen side, Arthur felt a pang of excitement consume him. All his life he’d done as he was told, now he was breaking out and doing the right thing. And to top it all off, he was going to be able to drive his C.E. 2000 one last time. Abruptly, Morgana grabbed the keys from Arthur’s hands. He shot her a bemused glance before failing to repossess them.

  “I need my keys Morgana.” Arthur snapped after trying to reach for them again. Jingling them in the air tauntingly, she smirked.

  “Arthur you’ve been living with the druids for over five months now,” Her tone was almost mocking, smug. “There’s no way you’re driving.” Pause. Arthur held a hand to the bridge of his nose in exasperation, knowing exactly what she was going to pull out the bag and weave into a cunning ploy. “Besides, you owe me. Big time.”

  Rolling his eyes, because none of his arguments would sound valid against ‘you lied to me about my magic and my family’, Arthur stormed out the front door. Grinning in delight, Morgana pressed one of the buttons, opening the flashy black car. Leon made his way towards the range rover parked behind it, Gwaine and Lancelot following him. Hovering by the passenger door, Arthur glanced back at his three friends. He considered confirming they were happy with the plan, but established discussing top-secret agendas (this time in the favour of the druids) in the middle of the street was not a good idea. Many people here would still sell their soul to out Druidians and Druids for the handsome reward. His friends offered him confident smiles in return to his concerned gaze. With that Arthur got into his beloved convertible, buckled up hastily. He groaned when Morgana elaborately revved the engine. One growl later, and they sped off down the road. If somebody said that Arthur had shrieked of all things in surprise at Morgana’s outrageous driving – well that wouldn’t exactly be an exaggeration.

  Clutching the handle tightly, Arthur scowled in the direction of his sister. She appeared to feel his gaze upon her.

  “Calm down Arthur,” she cooed. “We’re almost there.”

  “I don’t doubt that!” He exclaimed gruffly, gesturing towards her obscene driving. “We’re not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves-”

  “-Please.” Morgana interjected with a fond smile. “You always used to drive like this to work, don’t even pretend you didn’t.”

  To his dismay, Arthur realised that yes – he did indeed used to drive like a raving lunatic to Camelot Enterprise. Morgana wasn’t going to slow down; he guessed her excuse would be ‘keeping in character’ and ‘revenge’. Sighing, he turned to the folder in his lap, skimming over the document for the hundredth time. This Appeasement Act, yes completely fake and created by Arthur Pendragon alone, had to be faultless. If one thing was wrong, Aredian would notice and refuse to sign, and Arthur really didn’t want to have to use some kind of force to get the tyrants at the top to co-operate. Swallowing-hard, he closed the folder back up, feeling a little nauseous. He wanted more than anything to blame it on Morgana’s driving, but he knew it wasn’t that at all. Humorous thoughts aside, Arthur found himself truly nervous. He hadn’t been in this corporal environment for some time. Luckily nobody here knew the true events that had come to pass in Albion.

  “Arthur.” Morgana said, casting him back into reality. Her eyes were locked on the road; nonetheless Arthur detected a softness to them. “Why don’t you talk me through your presentation?”

  They used to do this a lot, before the Albion Project. Uther usually sporadically decided many times that Arthur was going to deliver presentations and pitches – sometimes even hours before the event! Morgana was a critical ear, who not only understood the business but also understood Arthur. She’d spent many hours helping him perfect presentations the night before.

  “Well,” anxiously rummaging through his notes, Arthur put on his chunky navy glasses. Despite knowing a spell that could enhance his eyesight temporarily, he felt far more accustomed to using them. “I’m going to start with delivering some figures on Druid Captivity and then reveal both the benefits and drawbacks of magical extraction-”

  “-Why would you-” before Morgana could interrupt fiercely, he continued.

  “-I need to make this look believable Morg. Six months ago I didn’t really have a view on magical extraction. They won’t expect anything to change. Anyway, after I’ve done that, I will explain this negotiation my father has made with the druids-”

  “-You know many of them won’t just take your word that Uther has agreed to this.”

  “-How could you have forgotten about father already?” Arthur said mischievously, fiddling with his glasses. “He is suffering extensively from Fruten bites and illness, thus putting me in charge of the project.” It was a big bluff, but Arthur knew it could work. Uther was too consumed in dominating Albion to actually consider checking-up on Camelot HQ. Shuffling the paper in his hands, Arthur cleared his throat. “Then I will go on to compare our current sales quota without magical extraction – which is well above the competitors anyway – against predicted sales without magical extraction but with Albion-Oil.”

  Stopping at the traffic lights, Morgana spared him a pensive look.

  “You’ve really thought this through.” She admitted, seemingly impressed with his proposal.

  Putting the notes away into the folder, Arthur sighed in relief at her words. He had only had twenty-four hours to prepare the ‘legal document, write
the presentation, arrange the meeting, come up with a story and compile the figures. It was definitely the most difficult deadline he’d ever faced. He hoped it would be enough. If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t change what they were going to do. Either way, Arthur refused to leave without the druid captives. As the lights turned green, the car leapt back into action. Camelot Enterprise was right in front of them now, seconds away. Flashing his ID card to the security guard, Arthur stepped out of the car and spared Leon a quick glance. Shit. He’d forgotten Uther still had their ID cards! The guard scanned the card briefly before smiling warmly.

  “Welcome back Sir.” She said courteously, flushing a little at his presence. “I hope the project is going well.” As she handed him back the card, Arthur spotted her bashfulness and decided to use it totally to his advantage.

  “I’m afraid I can’t disclose any information about the project as of yet,” he replied smoothly. “But you’ll be the first to know.” Winking for good measure, Arthur widened his smile when the woman ducked her head. He could feel Morgana’s intense, scornful eyes latched onto his back. That didn’t stop him from continuing.

  “Listen, I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could have some temporary passes for my colleagues?” he asked, casually leaning against the security booth, displaying his dazzling white teeth in the most charming manner he could. “Kind of had to rush back here from Albion…” he feigned a laugh and scratched the back of his head. “…ID cards weren’t exactly the first thing on our minds.”

  The woman laughed in response light-heartedly.

  “Of course it’s no problem.” Swiftly she turned away to fill out the necessary form. Arthur took this chance to grin complacently over at an apathetic Morgana. “Here you go.” Spinning back around, Arthur took the cards from her hands.

  “Thank you.” He said sincerely, meeting her eyes for a moment; she was unable to sustain the eye contact, clearly a bit enamoured.

  If Merlin were here Arthur was sure he’d be guffawing – Arthur flinched at the thought, pushing Merlin to the back of his mind. He’d have to deal with that vast issue later. Walking up to the range rover, Arthur passed the temporary passes through the window to Leon. Then he jumped back into the car with Morgana, tossing her the final card absently. Steering the car into the nearest parking space, she held the card in her palm against the wheel.