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tinylilemrys · 7 years

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MY DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

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Summary:

Folk-musician, Merlin Emrys, feels like he’s slowly but surely getting his foot in the door in the music industry. He has a decent following on social media, a gig almost every other night and people have (mostly) stopped pouring beer into his guitar case as a tip. But when an old friend of Gwen’s offers him a slot as the warm-up act for one of his favourite musicians on a live music show watched worldwide, Merlin finds his career fast-tracked.

Now, navigating fake relationships, tabloid gossip, the paparazzi, corporate scandals and a rather unfortunate crush on Arthur Pendragon, the handsome owner of Excalibur Records, Merlin is learning that big dreams come at a huge price.

It was extremely difficult for Merlin to decide what he was meant to be feeling in that moment.

He supposed that part of him had always suspected that something was off with Mordred, but it had been pleasantly suppressed by mild hero-worship and even stronger attraction. Now every uneasy laugh, perplexing remark and sideways glance was thrown into sharp relief. Kara and Mordred. Kara and Mordred Jones. God, they had the same surname – how could it be possible that no one had drawn the connection before?

He disentangled himself from Mordred and took a step back.

“How is that even possible?”

“We were childhood sweethearts,” Mordred replied, raking an unsteady hand through his unwashed curls. “Please, Merlin, I’ll explain everything to you as soon as we get out of here.”

“Not a fuck, Mordred.” He let out a huff of humourless laughter. “I have the utmost sympathy for you. Believe me, I do. But you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not thrilled at the idea of going off somewhere with someone who has just admitted to living a lie for the past however many years.”

“Merlin…” Mordred frustratedly pleaded. When Merlin refused to budge, Mordred sighed. “Fine, come here.”

He grabbed Merlin’s elbow and directed him around the corner, where there were fewer people.

“Okay, if telling you the whole sordid story means that you’ll actually agree to come with me, here it goes. Kara and I got married in our last year of secondary. She’d found out that she was pregnant and her parents, who are the worst kind of religious nutters, insisted we get married to preserve her virtue or whatever. We were young. Really young. Too young. God, sixteen isn’t the age to be making any lasting life decisions, but we were in love and excited and stupid. It all felt like some brilliant adventure at the time. Then Kara lost the baby and her parents wanted us to get a divorce even though we’d never needed each other more. So we ran away to London, changed our surname from Owen to Jones and started a new life.”

Merlin’s heart constricted painfully. As the words kept tumbling out of Mordred’s mouth, Merlin wondered when he had last had someone to talk to about this.

“Kara had wanted to be a journalist for as long as I’d known her, so we both worked our arses off to put her through college, while at the same time trying to save enough so that she could go to uni. Kara always insisted that I use my free nights to find places to play my music and that’s how Agravaine found me. I was playing at this seedy little pub one night and he came up to me afterwards and asked me how much I was being paid for the gig. It wasn’t much. I mean, I was completely unknown at the time and – you’ll know – anything you get paid for your music when you’re first starting out seems too good to be true. Anyway, I told Agravaine and he immediately went to the pub owner and demanded he pay me more. The bloke was reluctant at first but Agravaine was relentless and I eventually got paid triple what we’d first agreed on. It was the most money I had seen in a long time and I was convinced then that Agravaine was some kind of godsend, so when he left his card and asked me to call him when I was ready to make a real career out of music, I immediately went home to discuss it with Kara.”

“And then you signed up with Agravaine?” asked Merlin with a grimace. Everything was beginning to make a twisted amount of sense.

“Not initially,” Mordred replied. “Kara and I had a meeting with him and told him that we couldn’t afford to risk everything when we were so close to finally having enough for Kara to study. Agravaine, slimy git that he is, told us not worry about all that and immediately began making arrangements. It was barely ten minutes later when he announced that Kara had a place at a really good school for the next academic year, all paid for, provided that we both sign contracts with him.

“And we signed them. Of course we signed them. We had spent our late teens as poor as church mice, trying to scrape together enough for some kind of future. This seemed like chance of a lifetime. We didn’t realise at the time that we’d effectively sold our souls. It didn’t matter as much then that part of my contract was that I couldn’t be seen in a relationship so that I was more marketable, because I was so thrilled to be making a real living from my music. And the knowledge that part of Kara’s contract was that Agravaine would have a say in whatever she published seemed completely harmless while she was studying and there were no major stakes. As long as we were discrete and careful about what we did, we had a new peace freedom that felt exciting and foreign. It was like suddenly remembering that we weren’t old. We still had so much life left.

“It was only when all the shit with Arthur happened that I realised something was off.”

Merlin didn’t respond to this. He waited with bated breath to hear Mordred’s side of the story that swam to the surface of his mind in moments of insecurity.

“We don’t have to talk about the Arthur stuff if you’d rather not,” said Mordred glancing over at Merlin. “I know things are probably still really raw for you.”

“Like they aren’t for you?” said Merlin. “Honestly, just tell me what happened, Mordred.”

“Well, there’s not actually that much to it, other than the fact that I think Agravaine was hoping to use me to publicly out him. I had stupidly mentioned at some point that I was bi and Agravaine latched on to the idea with a scary amount of enthusiasm. He initially encouraged and later demanded that I get close to Arthur – that I flirt with Arthur. I refused at first because the idea of cheating on Kara made me sick to my stomach, but he quickly threatened to tank her career just as it was finally starting to take off. So I did it. I flirted my arse off and Arthur was so desperately lonely and repressed that it didn’t take long for it to look like Agravaine was going to get what he wanted. We kissed a few times and went on one or two dates that might as well have been two blokes just hanging out for how careful Arthur was about them. I felt cheaper at that time than I ever had when Kara and I were earning barely enough to scrape by.

“It was just as I was working out that it was starting to become more than just messing around for Arthur – that he was starting to develop real feelings for me – that Agravaine pulled me from Excalibur and forced me to sign with Mercia. I realised then that I was just a puppet to be used for whatever shitty thing he needed me to do. From that point on, if he needed dirt on an artist or celebrity, he’d send me in and… well let’s just say Kara and I had an arrangement when it came to Agravaine ‘jobs’. They didn’t count, but they still hurt. In our sickening new routine, I’d flirt, kiss and sleep with whoever Agravaine’s victim was and pass Kara the information to publish in whatever celebrity rag offered the most for it.”

“Like with the car park incident with Valiant and Cenred? Was that Agravaine using you?”

“No,” said Mordred, scrubbing a hand down his pale and exhausted face. “Val and Ced work for Agravaine too, so I wasn’t needed there. But, for instance, with you…”

“Ah,” said Merlin, another few puzzle pieces slotting into place. “I was an Agravaine assignment.”

“Yeah,” said Mordred, his hand balling into a white-knuckled fist at his side. “When you and Arthur were still… well, Agravaine suspected that the relationship was bullshit so he initially wanted me to get you to ditch Arthur for me to confirm his suspicions. Once Arthur told him everything, it wasn’t necessary anymore. But then you guys had the breakup and Agravaine wanted to discredit your relationship with Arthur without outright saying that it was fake, so he got me a last minute ticket to the Mortal Labyrinth premiere with the mission to make sure we connected.”

“It worked,” said Merlin, resolving never to doubt Gwen ever again. That girl knew what was up.

“It did,” said Mordred, “And fuck, Merlin, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how involved you got with feelings but I promise you that I really didn’t want to hurt you. It’s what happens when you give any part of your life to Agravaine – he uses it to mercilessly control you. It was only after Ellie said that thing about risk being worth it if you love someone that I actually summoned the courage to find a plan for Kara and I to escape Agravaine. But Agravaine… he’s even more ruthless and powerful than we thought and now Kara…”

Mordred closed his eyes as if just the thought was causing him physical pain. He breathed deeply for a moment or two before opening his eyes to look at Merlin again. At any other time Merlin would have felt uncomfortable at this much eye-contact with another person, but Mordred’s eyes were hollow and hungry, as if desperately trying to grasp at whatever warmth and hope they could get and Merlin found that he couldn’t look away.

Eventually though, Mordred glanced down at his pocket to pull out his mobile.

“She tried to warn me,” he said, tapping open his photo album. His brow was deeply furrowed as he swiped to find the image he was looking for. Once it appeared that he had found it, he thrust the phone into Merlin’s hand. “That was her suicide note. I took a photo because they wouldn’t let me keep it. She left me a message, Merlin. She had a gun or god knows what pointed at her and she somehow still had the presence of mind to send me a message.”

Though slightly perturbed at the idea of being let in on the personal last words of a woman he had actively disliked (as much as he tried to reason that this was actually Agravaine’s fault), Merlin read the note.

my songbird

i hate to do this but it can’t go on anymore. there’s so much to say, but not enough time to say it. i’m so Very sorry for putting you through All of this. i only wish that i had more time now to assure you of how much i Love you And the immeasurable worth of what you have been for me through the cruelly Numbered years. oh how i wish i could steal a few more days, hours, moments to repay you, but something Dark and evil is pushing me towards the edge And i’ve run out of time to give.

always know, love, that i never wanted to leave you. i tried to stay as long as i could, but i have to Go. there’s no other way out.

also know, love, that i never Regretted Any of the Very short days i spent with you. even in the hard times when it All seemed impossible, you were what I woke up for each morning – all i ever Needed. my Everything.

oh my love, i need you To promise now to hold Onto the sweet, Kind, gentle heart of the man I fell in Love with. don’t Let this make you bitter and cold and don’t ever think that this is because you didn’t love me enough.

YOU were perfect, this world was not.

all my love until i see you again

kara

p.s. we’ll always have paris - x –

Merlin’s initial thought upon seeing the unusual punctuation was that the stress of her situation had screwed up her command of the English language, until he noticed that underneath the photocopy of her note, scrawled in hasty blue pen, was another note.

VAL AND AGRAVAINE TO KILL YOU

Merlin scanned through Kara’s words again, his eyes darting to each strangely capitalised word, and he was blown away at what she had somehow managed to do despite being faced with the imminent end of her life.

“She was a genius,” said Mordred softly, probably noticing the mixture of surprise and horror Merlin felt as it crept across his face. “A stupid, selfless genius who used her last moments to warn me instead of naming her killer.”

“Holy shit, Mordred,” said Merlin. “What now?”

“I’ve been working with Chief Inspector Katherine Annis. She’s on my side a hundred percent, but says she has to leave the case alone for now because she’s using it to sniff out officers who she believes are being paid to deliberately change the outcome of cases like this. That’s where I was hoping to take you now. She thinks that Aridean is going to try to pin Kara and Arthur on us, painting it like we worked together to… she just wants to make sure that you know what might happen.”

“When is she expecting us?”

“In the next fifteen minutes or so. If we leave now, we should make it on time.”

“Okay, I’m going to go with you,” said Merlin, “but first let me run in to let Arthur know. With all the shit going on, I don’t want to disappear and have him worry about me.” Mordred nodded and Merlin immediately began sprinting back towards the entrance of the hospital.

He almost tripped over his feet when, to his surprise, he saw Arthur striding gingerly towards him. His face was deeply etched with concern that eased slightly when he noticed Merlin. In his attempts to reach him, Arthur stumbled clumsily and almost fell over. Merlin immediately rushed to him and reached out a hand to help stabilise him. It wasn’t a moment later that he heard the first siren and somehow instinctively knew that it was for him.

“My love, they’re about to take me away,” said Merlin, taking a step closer to Arthur. “I know you’re not altogether here right now, but please try to understand and remember as much of this as possible. They’re going to say some things about me that aren’t true. They’re going to say that I killed Kara Jones and that I tried to kill you too. That I did it because I love Mordred. Don’t listen to a word of it, alright? I love you more than anything and I would never ever do anything to intentionally hurt you, you hear me?”

The sirens were so loud they were almost deafening. Merlin, unsure of what was about to happen to him, pulled Arthur into one last hug.

“I love you,” he repeated.

“What’s going on, Merlin?” his eyes were wide with concern and in that moment, it was hard to believe that Merlin was seven years younger than him. He looked so impossibly small and defeated.

“I love you, Arthur,” Merlin said again, as police officers began surrounding him.

“Merlin Emrys,” smirked DI Aredian, his voice a perfect mirror of the cold, steely cuffs now being snapped around his wrists, “you are under arrest for the murder of Kara Jones and the attempted murder of Arthur Pendragon. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

A few feet away from him, Mordred was also being served his police caution.

Merlin tried to keep his eyes fixed on his angry and confused Arthur, who at first tried to fight his way through the line of police officers in front of him to get to Merlin, but was now just watching on as Merlin was manhandled into the back of the nearest police car. As they drove off, a nurse was clutching Arthur’s arm, trying to tug him inside and away from the cameras, but he wouldn’t budge.

The last thing Merlin saw as they rounded the corner was Arthur, resolutely still and seemingly impervious to the chaos around him. He had no way of knowing, but every wish he had left went into hoping that Arthur wouldn’t lose faith in him. The small hope that Arthur would still love and trust him after all of this had been cleared up was the only thing that was going to get him through this.

That, and the certain knowledge that Agravaine was behind this and that someday soon he would be rotting in a prison cell, far out of the reach of anyone Merlin loved and cared about.

***

Merlin, like most musicians who had dreamed of making it big someday, imagined his life post-breakout in detail. He had imagined signing the record contract, hearing his first single on the radio, playing his first stadium gig to a sold-out audience.

Never in a million years did he imagine that his music career would lead to the cold Scotland Yard holding cell in which he now found himself.

As he lay on the bed, staring up at the bleak grey of the ceiling above him, he wondered how much of what was happening to him could have been avoided by just becoming the marketer he had studied to become. He wouldn’t be in this cell, for one. He would have never had to stare into the cold eyes of Kara Jones. He would never have been betrayed by Mordred. He would never have had to deal with Agravaine.

You also would have never met Arthur, said a familiar unhelpful voice in his head. And doesn’t he make all of this worth it?

Merlin was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps and the sound of his bars being unlocked.

“Hands behind your back, please, Mr Emrys. You’re being taken to the interrogation room,” explained the kinder-looking of the two officers now entering his cell. The other began slipping another set of heavy cuffs around his wrists. Merlin briefly considered making a comment about how they should buy him a drink first, but thought better of it. If Agravaine had people on the inside, the last thing he wanted was to make things worse for himself.

The officers and Merlin made their way down one or two of the frigid passages, finally entering through an unassuming door halfway down one of them. After removing his cuffs, they sat Merlin in a chair on one side of the wooden table so that he was faced with his reflection in the two-way mirror on the opposite wall. The two days he had been locked up had not been kind to him. A five-o’-clock shadow dusted his face and his black eye was enhanced by the dark rings under his eyes from the stress of the last few days. Merlin felt anger bubble beneath the surface of his skin. This was unfair and sick. His boyfriend had been poisoned two days ago and had barely begun his recovery when Merlin had last seen him. No one had told him anything since he had arrived here, even though Katherine Annis supposedly knew that he was innocent, if Mordred was to be believed. What if Agravaine had got to Arthur? What if he was in danger right now? Merlin was completely powerless to protect him and the knowledge of it made every minute in these icy walls pure agony.

Merlin’s inner tirade was interrupted by another tirade right outside the door.

“… and as such it is my job to interrogate any and all suspects. I will not let you interfere and tamper with my case.”

The second voice was much calmer and more measured – dangerous even.

“You’re forgetting your place, Aredian. If you continue being insubordinate I will take you off this case faster than you can say ‘incompetence’. Now as your murder and attempted murder case has also turned into a likely kidnapping at the hand of one of your officers, I suggest you get to the important task of finding the victim. I will interrogate the suspects.”

There was the sound of furious strides down the hallway and then the door of the room was creaking open again.

He recognised her as soon as he saw her. Her red hair was pulled back into a severe bun that mirrored the rigid and restrained nature of her expression. Though Merlin noted that she was shorter than he had thought she was when watching her on the news, she was still clearly not someone to be trifled with. Despite this, her face softened as she settled on the chair on the other side of the table and her expression softened into the warmest look he had received since his arrest.

“Merlin Emrys, I’m DCI Katherine Annis,” she said, extending a hand for Merlin to shake which Merlin did. “Firstly, that red light on the wall means that this conversation is being listened to but not by any of Aredian’s people, so you don’t have to be afraid of what you say. Secondly, on behalf of the Met, I would like to apologise for what we’ve put you through these past few days.”

The horrible reality of her words to Aredian suddenly struck Merlin and he looked at her in terror.

“God, did you say that there’s been a kidnapping? Who? Not Arthur?”

Annis’ expression softened further into what looked like pity and Merlin’s worst fears were confirmed.

“He disappeared from the hospital yesterday,” she explained. “Security footage shows what appears to be one of our officers leading Arthur from his room in the early hours of the morning. Neither of them has been spotted since.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” yelled Merlin, feeling all the simmering anger of the past few days rise to the surface. “Aren’t you people supposed to be watching people who have recently almost been murdered? Or is that just the old-fashioned way the police operate?”

“Merlin, I understand that you’re upset, but I can –“

“UPSET? I’m fucking livid!” Merlin was standing now, kicking back his chair in anger. The officer standing against the wall took a step closer, but Annis raised a hand to stop him. “You knew someone wanted him dead – you knew that someone actively tried to kill him! How the fuck did you let this happen?”

“Merlin, I don’t know how much Mordred told you before you were arrested, but we are in the process of trying to uncover a number of officers that we believe are corrupt. For obvious reasons, we haven’t been able to brief everyone. It was my understanding that the officers I posted to protect Mr Pendragon were clean. I had personally mentored them. Please know that if I had had the slightest suspicion otherwise they wouldn’t have been placed anywhere near that room.”

“Yeah that’s great and all but that doesn’t change the fact that my boyfriend is missing or hurt or… or worse and it’s your incompetence that made it possible. God and when were you planning to tell me? After he showed up dead somewhere?”

Merlin’s breath was growing shallow and panicky. He needed air. He needed out – to find Arthur before something awful happened to him. He could just walk out. Why shouldn’t he? He wasn’t a suspect and Annis knew it. What possible repercussions could there be?

A moment after this thought crossed his mind, the door to the interrogation room was being opened again. Merlin was so relieved to see a friendly face, to see someone as confused and furious as he was that as soon as Mordred’s cuffs were unlocked, Merlin hugged him tightly, taking comfort in the warmth and understanding he found there and trying to radiate as much of it back as possible.

The tears were falling before he had time to think about stopping them.

Mordred put an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and led them to the table. Annis said nothing but offered Merlin a packet of tissues from her pocket which he reluctantly took.

“Has there been a new development? Is that why we’re both here?” Mordred asked, his voice tired and worn. Merlin wondered if he had slept at all since he found out about Kara’s death.

“We have security footage of what appears to be an as of yet unidentified officer leading Arthur from his hospital room. Neither has been seen since then.”

Mordred looked as livid as Merlin felt, but instead of shouting his feelings as Merlin had, he simply folded his arms and waited for what Annis would say next.

“We have a team of analysts trying to identify the officer in the security footage which will give us a much clearer idea of what happened. In the meantime, our hope is that DI Aredian will lead us to wherever Arthur is being held. Mordred, the reason I called you here is that we need to find out what Kara knew. We have been from the bottom to the top of her flat and we can’t find anything that would drive Agravaine to have her killed.”

“We wanted out,” said Mordred. “We were planning to break our contracts with him.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Annis replied, “but what I don’t understand is why Agravaine would take the dangerous route of having Kara killed instead of just tanking your careers like he threatened to. He doesn’t strike me as the type to make life more difficult for himself than it needs to be. Then there’s his excuse for all those calls between him and Kara that day. I don’t think the story about the article is as made up as we once believed it was.”

“Are you saying that Kara was planning to publish something on Agravaine?” asked Merlin. “Why wouldn’t she just publish it then? Why call him up about it?”

“She must have been using it as a bargaining chip to guarantee that Agravaine would leave us alone,” said Mordred, now paler than he had been a moment ago, “and she buried it when she realised that Agravaine was far more likely to get rid of her than negotiate with her.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Annis agreed. She shuffled through the pages of the file in front of her, finally pulling out a copy of Kara’s suicide note – the one Mordred had showed him a photo of. This time, Merlin saw that the line “p.s. we’ll always have paris – x” was underlined and that “paris” was circled with two enormous question marks scrawled next to it. “This is the only line of Kara’s note that still doesn’t make sense to me. Based on the composition of the rest of her note, it seems too casual and superficial to not be intentional. With that in mind, can you please tell me what significance Paris played in your relationship?”

“I’ve told you – it’s where we went for our honeymoon,” Mordred replied as if the memory of it caused him physical pain to recall. “I don’t understand why she couldn’t have just been leaving me a reminder of what was probably the last time either of us was truly happy.”

Annis was quiet for a moment and spoke her next sentence as if measuring each word.

“Of course that’s what she was doing on one level, but your wife has proven that she was a masterful writer. Every word, every letter and punctuation mark in this letter is intentional and right now the only part of it we haven’t deciphered is this line. It may be the clue that leads us to her dirt on Agravaine, so I need you to really think – was there perhaps an inside joke or personal story the two of you shared that was linked to Paris?”

“None that immediately spring to mind,” said Mordred. “And it would be kind of pointless for her to leave a secret message about something I can’t remember, not so?”

“Very well,” said Annis, reaching down next to her for a box. “Here’s another idea. These are all items from her flat that have any connection to Paris or France. Is there anything in here that tells you anything?”

She handed Mordred a pair of latex gloves which he pulled on before gently removing the contents of the box one by one with trembling hands. There was nothing too thrilling amongst the seemingly random assortment of objects: a set of car keys with an Eiffel Tower key ring, a mug that bore the slogan ‘reste calme et parlons Français’ on a background of the French flag, a glittering snow globe containing a miniature Notre Dame and a men’s “Paris Je T’aime” t-shirt. So when Mordred removed the final item, a simple wooden jewellery box, and Merlin was hit with a wave of nostalgia at the sight, he couldn’t help but gasp.

“You recognise it?” said Annis, her brow furrowing in confusion as she handed Merlin a pair of gloves so that he could handle it.

“Not this one exactly,” said Merlin, noting that the design differed slightly. Where Kara’s box had the Eiffel Tower burnt onto the top of it, the one Merlin had known had had the Palace of Versailles instead. “My best friend had a box like this growing up. He got it when his mum passed away. We used to use it to hide all of our contraband. You know… like sweets and stuff.”

Annis raised a suspicious eyebrow and Merlin felt his ears grow hot under her gaze. It was probably best not to admit to his teenage drug use in front of the police. He hastily finished pulling on his gloves and took the box gently from Mordred.

“Anyway, if I’m right and this is the same kind of box, there’s a false bottom to it. I just need to…” Merlin opened the hinged lid and slid the front face of the box up to reveal the slot for the false bottom. He was right. Gently, he reached into the box and slid out the thin sheet of wood that formed the bottom, gasping at the sight of a flash drive padded with socks to keep it from rattling.

“Oh my god, that has to be it,” said Mordred, staring at it with wide eyes. “That has to be the Agravaine story.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” said Annis, standing up abruptly from the desk and addressing the officer standing against the wall. “Daira, please take all this back to the evidence room. I’m taking Mr Emrys and Mr Jones to my office.”

“Of course Ma’am,” Daira replied, immediately stepping over to the table and pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Follow me,” said Annis, leading them out of the interrogation room and down one or two indistinguishable corridors until they arrived at an office with the words ‘Detective Chief Inspector Katherine Annis’ emblazoned across the window. Annis hastily unlocked the office door and practically threw herself into her seat, plugging in the flash drive as she did. A few moments later, her eyes widened. “It’s all here. Oh my god, she was an absolute genius.”

She beckoned Mordred and Merlin to stand on her side of the computer and showed them what she was seeing. It was almost beyond belief. There were files upon files of evidence she had collected over the years – conversations that she had recorded both in person and over the phone (including the most recent ones between her and Agravaine on the day of her death), copies of her articles before and after Agravaine had distorted them into near fiction, folders full of incriminating photos and video footage and finally, a file entitled ‘My Deal with the Devil’ which Merlin realised must be the article that had led to her death.

“Open it,” said Mordred.

“Mordred, are you sure?” said Merlin, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Won’t it be distressing for you?”

“She wants it to be read so that’s what I’m going to do,” he said, setting his jaw.

“I want to read it too, so for the sake of time I’ll read it out loud,” said Annis, opening the file.

In the most laughably unfunny and ironic way, this story (which was supposed to be my ticket to freedom and a life that actually belongs to me), has turned out to be my death sentence. You have to know that, off the bat, when I first sat down to type these words, to tell this story, it was with the mindset that I would finally be able to escape and stop living this lie in which I’m trapped. And while it’s possible that the threats of murder and rape that have been set to me in the past few hours might not come to anything, if you are reading this now, you know now what this man is capable of.

Agravaine Du Bois is the devil and I am one of the fools who sold their soul for his lies.

I am not alone in this – just the first to actually have their soul demanded from them. Du Bois, unassuming as he seems at first glance, is a master manipulator with numerous flies trapped in his web of deceit, including the one person I love more than life itself. It is for his sake now that I lay out this demon’s many sins. It’s too late for me, I know that now, but I’m hoping that by some grace I don’t deserve, he won’t suffer the same fate.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

In the beginning, there was a young man and the young woman who fell in love with him. Some would argue that we were too young – even we concede as much on nights when we drink and bitterly mutter about how different things might have been. Back then I was the practical, repressed, self-righteous result of an upbringing that taught me that life was a set of rules and consequences for breaking them. How then could my head not be turned by the beautiful, poetic mind of Mordred Owen, who believed wholeheartedly that life was a set of experiences and that the only lasting consequence life had to offer was regret at not taking every chance at adventure that life handed him?

Kara then began her beautifully woven telling of Mordred’s story from a few mornings ago, and Merlin felt his mind about her change. They really had just been two scared and exhausted kids who wanted a chance at a better life. Everything that followed, all the bile and wretchedness, was all Agravaine’s doing.

Mordred and I suffered this new adventure gladly. Though our time together was limited and highly clandestine, we both took comfort in the fact that the other was doing what they had always dreamed of. Despite the unusual emptiness of my bed, I rested well each night in the knowledge that my husband was finally being recognised for the musical and lyrical genius he was and that our time apart was only for a season while Du Bois set Mordred’s name up in lights.

In my naivety, when signing the contract to give Du Bois final say in the articles I published, I had thought that he had meant it from a place of wanting to offer me additional inside information from the many whispers of the industry to which he was privy. And, to his credit, it started that way. When I wrote my first scathing article about Catrina West making waves for all the wrong reasons, Du Bois supplied me with a seemingly endless supply of evidence that she had lip-synched her way through every single one of her live performances, leading to her fall from grace and my ascent to a position as one of the most prolific celebrity journalists in the UK.

It only escalated from there. Lives have been ruined by the biting words typed at my hand and the further malicious twisting of the truth at Du Bois’. It became increasingly difficult to separate my work and hatred of it from my personality and before long I found myself using my spiteful words as an outlet for my anger and frustration. This, of course, doesn’t excuse the things I’ve written, I am still responsible for not stopping this madness earlier, but you have to understand that this is what Du Bois does. He twists everything so that you eventually forget that you are being coerced into being the villain and actually begin to feel like you are the villain.

My husband was going through the same thing. His forced available bachelor act was beginning to weigh on him and Du Bois’ insistence that he should flirt but never touch made things all the worse. We would steal an evening or two together where we could, but for the most part, we were both incredibly lonely and miserable. The initial glamour of our new lives had worn off and now all either of us wanted to do was go back to what we had known before.

Mordred was the first to crack. In a moment of pure bravery (or stupidity) he insisted that he had been ‘single’ long enough to market himself and it was about time he got to be with his wife again, even if he had to pretend that it was a brand new relationship. Du Bois’ reaction was a malevolent chuckle and condescending ‘we’ll see’. It later transpired that this meant that Agravaine had no intention of letting Mordred be with anyone if it didn’t suit his purposes. And this, in turn, meant that Du Bois fully intended to exploit Mordred’s sexuality.

Despite having to keep it quiet for most of his career, Mordred has never been shy about being bisexual, insisting that it’s just one of many aspects of what makes him who he is. Without Du Bois’ interference, it would never have occurred to him to keep it quiet. Du Bois had other ideas about what would be a deal breaker for his audience and being open about his sexuality was one of them. Besides, didn’t he think that the mystery was so much more fun than the truth? Wasn’t the ambiguity and implication more fun to talk about than the bare black-and-white facts?

This philosophy didn’t last long and Du Bois’ first foray into forcing Mordred into a relationship came with Arthur Pendragon. It was the first of many relationships, both sexual and non-sexual, that my husband had absolutely no say in.

This may seem a shock to those who understand Agravaine Du Bois to be the brother of the late Ygraine Du Bois and therefore Arthur’s seemingly doting uncle, but Du Bois’ relationship with Arthur is insidious to the point of emotionally abusive. To contextualise it, it must be understood that when Ygraine died Du Bois was fully under the impression that he would be inheriting Avalon Records, which at the time was a highly successful independent record label. Instead, Avalon Records was bequeathed to Arthur with Du Bois’ managing it until he came of age. Though the slow decline of the record label has often been attributed to its dated practices and refusal to remain relevant, Du Bois has admitted in so many words (clips available at www.karaknows.com/my-deal-with-the-devil) that he deliberately mismanaged the label so that Arthur’s inheritance would turn out to be far more curse than blessing. Indeed, by the time Arthur inherited it, it was nearly unsalvageable and despite managing to scrape a few more years out of it, Avalon Records closed its doors for good in summer 2009, shortly before Uther Pendragon’s untimely death.

Mordred was one of the first artists signed to Pendragon’s new venture, Excalibur Records, which he began in late 2007 to allow himself the freedom to sign fresh new acts that actually had a half-decent chance of being successful. It was a match made in music heaven. Mordred’s soulful folk was set to put Excalibur Records on the map, which was precisely the opposite of what Excalibur’s new PR Manager, Du Bois, wanted and his subsequent plan to derail it was brutally simple. He would organise a contract buyout with another label, but before that, cause a public relations nightmare that would take Excalibur down with it.

Du Bois had, what was in his mind, the perfect recipe for disaster. He had two handsome, lonely men (one touch-starved and contractually forbidden from being in a relationship and the other desperately repressed and unable to convincingly deny the rumours that he was gay) plus a set of small confined offices where they would see each other every day for hours at a time. All he needed to do was prod Mordred towards Arthur and the tentatively stacked dominos would collapse one after the other.

Merlin put an arm around Mordred as Annis read Kara’s account of Agravaine’s emotional and psychological abuse. It sounded like hell and Merlin realised how lucky he was to only have a black eye to show for their conflict.

That, and an injured and missing boyfriend who was almost murdered, jeered a chillingly malicious voice that sounded an awful lot like Agravaine’s. We mustn’t forget that.

Annis continued reading.

Apart from forced libel and near prostitution, I could go into detail on the extensive list of Du Bois heinous crimes here. There are many. There’s his rumoured embezzlement of Avalon’s Finances (which I would not be surprised to see replicated in the recent financial failings of the once booming Excalibur); his manipulation and coercion of Cenred King and Valiant Wright into carrying out his dirty work, throwing the lives of the band and those connected to them into turmoil; the skilful masterminding of Mordred’s first highly public and completely fake relationship with Merlin Emrys without Merlin being aware of it; for getting Sophia Timor pregnant, blaming it on Arthur and cruelly abandoning her when she stopped being of use to him. I could list the details, but there is simply no longer any time. For that, you will have to visit the aforementioned website and confront the overwhelming evidence for yourself.

There is no more time.

It is here, staring down the barrel of this metaphorical gun that I wish to personally apologise to anyone whom I might have hurt with my biting words and insensitive lack of discretion. Were it up to me alone, many of the things that are now known about you would have remained a tight-lipped secret and many of the rumours that were unfairly spread about you would never have seen the light of day. I take full responsibility for my actions and know that had I been a bit braver, your lives might be very different now. I know I have made a great many enemies and rightly so, but I hope you realise that with freedom over my talents, I would have put them to far better use. I would have been investigating a character like Du Bois as an objective third party. Instead, I am a part of his twisted truth.

Now as part of that truth, knowing that I will not survive the fall, I am dismantling my section of the web and praying the rest unravels with it.

My last words are for the one person to whom it physically pains me to have to say goodbye.

Mordred my love, if you managed to find this and are reading it now, know that I would never trade a single moment that was spent with you. I love you more than any words I put here could possibly express, even if I did have all the time in the world. You don’t feature in a single one of my regrets except that we didn’t get the eighty or so years together it felt like we should have been promised.

Even though I’m afraid, I’m alright now. I’m at peace knowing that even when I’m still, I won’t be silenced. I take solace in knowing that if I’m going down, I’m taking the son of a bitch who ruined your life with me.

Be brave and carry on for me. I know you don’t always see it, but you are a gift to this world. Go show every other practical, repressed, self-righteous little girl and boy that magic is real. That they can be anything they want to be. That they don’t have to settle for being successful, that they can be something far greater – they can be good.

And once I have paid my devil his debt, I too will finally be good.

A chill ran down Merlin’s spine as he opened his arms to envelope Mordred. Enormous silent sobs were racking his body and Merlin felt that if he didn’t hold him, Mordred would shake apart. Tears were stinging his own eyes and even Annis was pulling a tissue across hers.

Kara’s words had cut to the heart of the tragedy that this was. No one in this story had asked to be a part of it. They were the victims of a sociopath who cared nothing for anyone’s interests but his own.

“Right, I’m copying the contents of this drive to my computer and then you two are coming with me.”

“Where are we going?” asked Mordred in a hollow, distant voice. It was gut-wrenching and raw and Merlin felt almost physically ill at the grief of it.

“I think it’s about time Sophia Timor finally had the opportunity to tell the truth.”

#merthur #merthur fanfic #merthur fanfiction #merthur fic #in my cardboard walls #imcw #I FINALLY UPDATED THIS STORY OMG #APPLAUSE FOR ME #also I only have one chapter left to write and that's kind of crazy

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