Chapter Text
The coffee shop was crowded. With just two weeks left until Christmas, shoppers had flooded the streets in London in search of the perfect present for their loved one. To give themselves the energy needed to fight their way through the crowds and spend hours harassing retail employees by asking if they had a horrendous sweater in another size or color in the back, they packed into any coffee shop they could find that had a line less than ten minutes long. A plastic Christmas tree covered in cheap plastic baubles and tinsel further crowded the narrow space in front of the order counter, forcing people to pack ever more tightly into the space. A corporate approved plastic Santa perched on the counter, obstructing one of the registers, making the jobs of the baristas more difficult than necessary. Somewhere overhead, a knock off Christmas Carol warbled faintly over the tinny ceiling speakers.
Arthur was stuck in the middle of it all.
He had no presents to buy. His assistant had taken care of that by the end of November. He had a stack of neatly wrapped boxes and decorated gift bags sitting in his flat just waiting to be distributed. He’d picked out the gifts for his father, Morgana, and Mithian personally, but he hadn’t time to leave the office to pick them up himself. Gifts for coworkers and his Uncle Agaravaine, he’d had his assistant pick out using her best judgement. He didn’t have the time to pick out a scarf himself while tied up in meetings with Japan from dawn until well after the shops closed for the day. He only managed to escape his office long enough today to buy a coffee, and the time pressure was crawling along his nerves as he tapped his foot.
Mithian had managed a break from her own office to join him, and she waited with galling patience, only checking her mobile on occasion to respond to text. Her dress and sweater were still perfectly pressed even though Arthur swore his suit wrinkled the moment he stepped inside. Her coat was folded over her arm and she was unbothered by the weight while Arthur found himself shifting his coat from arm to arm.
The line crawled forward.
A customer in front of them placed an order for a themed coffee, then proceeded to change two-thirds of the ingredients. The barista kept a perfect customer service smile on her face as she nodded along and read the order back. Arthur’s eye twitched. He was never so grateful not to have to work customer service.
Finally, the line cleared, and he and Mithian stepped up to the register.
“Happy Holidays!” the barista said cheerfully. Up close, Arthur could see the lines of exhaustion etching themselves around her eyes. “What can I get you today?”
Mithian pocketed her phone, smiled kindly, and said, “I’d like a medium Caffe Mocha, please.”
“Medium Caffe Mocha, alright. And you?”
“Large, flat white, please.” Arthur said, already pulling his wallet out of his pocket to pay.
Mithian beat him to the punch. She slid two cards across the counter, and shrugged when Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow, “I come here often enough that I’m part of the rewards program.”
“I still could have paid while you used your rewards card.”
“It felt silly to earn the points with your money.”
Arthur couldn’t argue that point. Truthfully, part of why he liked Mithian was her lack of adherence to the unspoken rules of dating. She didn’t expect Arthur to pay for everything because he was a man and had money. She had money of her own and didn’t mind spreading the expenditures between them equally. The last woman Arthur had dated seriously, Sofia, had been after him exclusively for his money. When it became clear that Arthur made good money with his salary but wouldn’t inherit the profits of Camelot Corp until after Uther’s death, she’d flown into a rage and broken three wine glasses and a plate before Arthur finally removed her from his flat. Mithian was different, and little things like paying for their coffees reminded him that she was with him because she actually loved him, and not because she wanted something from him.
The barista handed Mithian back her cards, Mithian put them back in her wallet, and they vacated their position at the counter as another customer stepped up to place their order. They found an unoccupied, not too sticky, table next to the window and settled in. Mithian hung her purse on the back of the chair with her coat, and Arthur did the same with his coat.
Instinctively, he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and checked for any messages. The lock screen came up empty. Only the white digits of the clock were visible, letting him know that he’d been away from the office for nearly fifteen minutes already. He was technically on a lunch break, which he hadn’t taken properly since starting the project with Japan. He’d earned a break. He just wished it didn’t leave him feeling so twitchy. Every moment away from the office was like being convinced he’d left the stove on but couldn’t get back to his flat to check until traffic cleared. If anything happened, his assistant would call him, but it did little to soothe him.
“Arthur?” Mithian called.
Arthur set aside his mobile, placing it face down on the table, and gave Mithian his full attention, “Sorry. We’ve been working on that proposal for weeks now, and I am surrounded by idiots.”
“They aren’t idiots,” Mithian said with an amused, affectionate smile, “you just make leaps in logic faster than they do and get annoyed when you have to wait for them to catch up.”
“Fair point.”
“How long do you think the proposal will take to finish?”
“If all goes well, we should be finished by the nineteenth.”
“Medium caffee mocha and a large flat white!” the barista called, cutting through the din of voices and horrid Christmas tunes.
“I’ll get it.” Arthur said, already standing.
He wove his way through the crowd gathered at the pick up counter, and rescued his and Mithian’s coffees before they could be poached by a woman weighted down with bags and bags of toys. She eyed Arthur suspiciously as he used the advantage of his height to snatch coffees without having to step all the way to the front. He offered her a tight lipped smile, which she didn’t return, and then waded through the sea of people to their table. He set Mithian’s coffee in front of her and took a seat.
Mithian took a sip of her coffee and let out a relieved sigh as the promise of caffeine hit her sense. She did it every time she drank coffee, and it never failed to make Arthur smile. It was adorable.
She lowered her coffee and met Arthur’s eyes again, “Is there any chance you can get out of the proposal early?”
“Why?”
“It’s just that… well you haven’t met my father. We’ve been living together for close to two years now, dating for four, and you haven’t met him. I’ve met Uther—”
“And I apologized for that.” Arthur reminded her.
Contrary to what Arthur thought would happen, namely that Uther would find a singular flaw in Mithian and rip her to shreds, Uther had adored her. Unfortunately, his joy at Arthur having finally found a proper match verged on creepy. He’d spent the rest of dinner talking about future children and being “of good breeding and marriageable age”. That Mithian continued to date Arthur after that fiasco was nothing short of a miracle.
Mithian laughed, then reached across the table to squeeze Arthur’s hand, “He’s invited us for Christmas. Given that Uther refuses to celebrate other than the obligation present, I thought this would be the perfect time to meet him.”
“Why would I need to bow out early to meet him? I finish a few days before Christmas.”
“Because we have family traditions for the weeks before Christmas that I want to share with you. You won’t get to enjoy them if you don’t drive down until the nineteenth or twentieth.”
Arthur took a sip of his coffee to stall.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He’d love to meet Mithian’s father, in fact he needed to. The only reason he hadn’t was because his and Mithian’s work schedules never lined up. Just when Arthur emerged from a project that required all his focus, Mithian got pulled into a project of her own. Even living together, they didn’t see as much of each other as they would have liked.
The problem was that Arthur couldn’t leave early unless he wanted to be paid for the entirety of the project. Normally he wouldn’t notice the difference in his bank account taking a few days off. He had enough accrued vacation days to last him from now until he was fifty, but working on the project earned him a bonus. Right now, he needed that bonus. One of the boxes in his flat, tucked carefully away in the bottom of his sock drawer where he could be sure Mithian would never find it, held an engagement ring. It was one of the few gifts he’d personally picked out and picked up. He’d spent weeks going through Mithian’s jewelry when she was distracted, trying to figure out what style she liked, and then another several weeks going from shop to shop trying to track down the perfect ring, before finally getting one custom made. It had cost him more than he cared to admit, and he needed that bonus if didn’t want to be paying the cost off on his credit cards until Uther finally left Arthur the business. He’d also purchased tickets to Greece for New Years so they could celebrate the engagement. Between the ring, tickets, hotel stay, and the cost of the activities he booked for them in Greece, he was seeing the dent in his account. The bonus would balance it out.
Mithian, of course, knew none of this. She was vaguely aware that an engagement was forthcoming, but the proposal and the trip were a surprise. Arthur wanted to keep it that way.
Unfortunately, in order to qualify for the bonus, he had to work the proposal until it was finished. Which meant he couldn’t leave early to spend Christmas with Mithian and her father. Wanting to keep everything aa surprise meant he couldn’t tell her anything about it.
Mithian’s brows came together in a sharp, disapproving frown, “You’re going to say no.”
“I’m sorry.” Arthur said, “I wish I could go, but I have to stay and work the proposal until its finished.”
“You’re choosing business over our relationship?”
“Now hang on, you’ve done the same. You missed my final so you could make a teleconference call to Chile.”
“I told you that I didn’t have a choice. It was the only time Mr. Santiago could make it.”
“I’m doing the same here. I can leave straight from work on the nineteenth and come down. I want to meet your father, but I’m stuck until the proposal finishes.”
“What happens if the proposal isn’t done on the nineteenth?”
“I’ll drive down when it’s finished.”
“Arthur.”
“Mithian, I’m serious.” Arthur insisted, “Even if it’s not done by the twenty-third, the office is still closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I could still drive down the night of the twenty-third and be there in plenty of time to celebrate with you.”
Mithian’s lips pinched in disappointment, and she took a sip of her coffee.
Arthur sighed and squeezed her hand, “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you always are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She said stiffly and slid from her chair, “I have to get back to the office.”
“Mithian—”
“I’ll talk to you later, Arthur.”
She slid on her coat and out the door of the coffee shop.
*
The flat was dark when Arthur came home. It wasn’t all that unusual. Mithian usually tried to leave the lamp near the entry way on so he could make his way to the kitchen without tripping over anything, but she forgot sometimes when she had a long day at work. He set his briefcase in its usual spot by the door, kicked off his shoes, and shuffled forward until he found the lamp. He clicked it on, then made his way to the kitchen.
There wasn’t much in his fridge in the way of food. Most of it was leftover takeaway. Neither he nor Mithian were good cooks, and after Arthur gave them both food poisoning while trying to be romantic, they’d agreed he was banned from cooking anything. Most of Mithian’s food came out overcooked to the point of inedibility, so she had also limited herself to making rice. Arthur selected a box at random, and upon opening it, discovered it was curry.
He didn’t bother heating it up. He wanted to shower and collapse into bed with Mithian. It was nearing midnight, and he needed to be back in the office by eight.
After a disappointing dinner of cold curry, he made his way to the bedroom. The shower in the guest bathroom hadn’t worked in months, and Arthur hadn’t been home to let a plumber in to fix anything. That left them with the master bath, and he and Mithian had gotten good at sneaking through the bedroom and showering without waking up the other.
He paused as he approached the bed. There was a gap in the curtain, and the streetlights outside always fell on the edge of Mithian’s pillow and illuminated her face. Arthur liked to pause to look at her sleeping face. It was always soft and sweet, and it made his heart do funny things in his chest.
Or it did when Mithian was there. Right now, the bed was empty.
Frowning, Arthur clicked on the bedside lamp, just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Sure enough, Mithian’s spot was empty.
He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and went to his texts. The last one he’d received Mithian was this morning when they agreed to meet at the coffee shop. There were no missed calls or voicemails. It was possible that she got caught up in the office, but as far as Arthur knew she wasn’t working on anything under a time crunch. She was always better at work life balance than him, so she should be home.
He tapped the call icon and brought the mobile up to his ear. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no reason to think she was in any danger. She had emergency contacts on her mobile, of which Arthur was one. If there had been an accident, he would have been contacted.
‘You have reached Mithian Nemeth. I am currently on my way to visit family, and cellphone signal will be spotty for the next to weeks. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. If it’s urgent, please email me. Though keep in mind that correspondence will also be slow, as the Wi-Fi connection will also be spotty. Thank you, and have a happy Christmas.’
There was a loud beep to indicate Arthur should leave a message.
“Hey, Mithian. I see you’re not at home, and given your outgoing message, I can guess where you are. I wish you had told me that you were planning on leaving for Wales today. I was a bit worried you were in a car accident. I’ll make sure to email you, but if you could call or text me back when you can, I’d appreciate it. I’m sorry about coffee today, I didn’t mean to disappoint you. Call me back.”
He ended the call, plugged his mobile in to charge, and went to shower.
When he climbed into bed, he paused long enough to send Mithian a quick email asking if she was okay and telling her to call or text when she got the chance. He fell asleep staring at his inbox, hoping she would email him back.
*
“Is there a reason you keep checking your mobile?” Morgana asked without looking up from her stack of paperwork.
Arthur slapped his mobile face down on his desk a little harder than necessary, “I don’t keep checking it.”
Morgana looked up from her paperwork then and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
Arthur let out a loud sigh and sunk back in his chair. He recognized that look. It meant that Morgana wasn’t going to stop pestering him about it until he confessed. She wasn’t above blocking his office door either. She was relentless when she wanted to be.
“I’m waiting for Mithian to email me.”
“Why are you waiting for your girlfriend of six years to email you?”
“She went down to Wales to be with her father for the weeks leading up to Christmas. She doesn’t get a strong enough signal for a call.”
“If you were just waiting on confirmation of her arrival, you wouldn’t be checking every five minutes.” Morgana said skeptically, “You’d only check every hour. What aren’t you telling me? Did you have a fight?”
“I don’t know.” Arthur admitted, “She told me her father invited us for Christmas, and I told her I couldn’t take two weeks off because of the proposal, but that I’d come down once it was finished. She seemed disappointed, then she left for Wales without telling me.”
Morgana made as sympathetic face as she could, given that she selected blood red lipstick with express purpose of scaring interns, and patted his hand, “You foolish, foolish man. She wasn’t just disappointed, she was upset. Why on earth would you not bail on this meaningless project to go be with her?”
“I need the money to pay off the ring and the trip to Greece.”
“Go to Wales.” Morgana said, leaning back, “I’ll have your assistant pick up a Wi-Fi extender while you pack your suitcase. You can work remotely and still be there for her. The proposal is almost finished, and I’ll be here to put out any fires.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Arthur asked suspiciously, “You were only nice to me growing up when you wanted something.”
“What I want is for you not to blow this with Mithian. I happen to think she would make a wonderful sister-in-law. Now shoo, I have things to do that aren’t tending to your massive ego.”
Arthur shoved back from his desk, retrieved his coat and briefcase, and made for the door. He paused just long enough to press a kiss to Morgana’s cheek. He’d stop by tomorrow to sign paperwork and pick up the wi-fi extender, but for now he needed to pack.
*
Arthur gritted his teeth as his car jerked its way through another pothole. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, shoulders tensing instinctively. He’d known Mithian had grown up in a manor house in a rural town, but he didn’t expect it to be rural enough that even the roads were questionable. He had spent the better part of the last hour being jostled along and trying not to scrape the bottom of his car. According to the directions being read out from his mobile, he still had at least another hour to go before he would arrive in Ealdor.
There was a sudden shriek of metal scraping against asphalt, a loud bang, a jolt, and Arthur temporary lost control of the car. His knee slammed into the column of the steering wheel, and he felt the keys jostle loose. He fought back his initial instinct to slam on the breaks and removed his foot from the gas. Wrestling with the steering wheel, he wrenched the car around on the road so it didn’t go off the die into the ditch, and the car slid to a stop.
He took a deep breath and let it out shakily. No one else was on the road. He hadn’t hit anyone, and he was uninjured.
He fished his keys out from under his seat and slid them back into the ignition. When he tried to turn the ignition over, all he got back was a high-pitched whining growl. He tried twice more before he gave up and slumped back in his seat.
His car was dead.
Signal had been spotty for the last couple of kilometers, but he was in luck. His mobile still had a couple of bars of service.
He waited with baited breath as his search for ‘tow company near me’ generated results at a snail’s pace. Normally he would have spent more time researching who had the superior service, but he couldn’t be bothered. He’d almost just crashed, and he was in the middle of nowhere. He had visions of the newspaper headlines ‘Heir to Pendragon Fortune Found Dead; Presumably Eaten By Foxes’. Wanting to avoid such a humiliating fate, he clicked on the first number listed.
After spending a minute listening to the ring and silently pleading with the universe for someone to answer, the line clicked open and a gravelly voice with a thick Welsh accent answered, “Tommy’s Towing, you got ‘em, we tow ‘em. Happy Holidays, how can I help you?”
“My car’s broken down on the side of the road.” Arthur answered.
“Right.” The voice on the other end said, sounding entirely uninterested in Arthur’s plight, “Where’d it break down?”
“On the side of the roadway leading to Ealdor Village.”
The voice sucked in a sharp breath and asked, “GPS told you to take the left fork instead of the right?”
“What does that matter?”
“We get calls from the roadway all the time. The GPS tells visitors to take the left instead of the right because it’s a more direct town, but it’s a road only used by farmers in their tractors. Drive anything other than farm equipment down it, and you’re likely to do some damage. Had a man knock his muffler clean off once.”
“Is there any chance you’ll be able to give me a tow?”
“Drop a pin to the number you called, and we’ll give you an estimate for how long it’ll take.”
Arthur let out an irritated sigh through his nose and lowered his mobile. He swiped through to the message app, entered the number, and sent the GPS pin.
After a beat, the voice said, “You’re not far. Should be half an hour.”
*
It turned out that Tommy’s Towing was run by Tommy, who was also the voice on the other end of the line. He was a man close to Uther’s age but thick set. He had a cigarette tucked behind his ear the entire time he looked over Arthur’s car. Occasionally, the silence was punctuated by a sympathetic cluck of his tongue as he further observed the extent of the damage.
He declared it unfixable by anyone other than a mechanic, loaded it onto the back of his truck, and had Arthur climb into the cab with him. The truck’s cab smelled strongly of cigarettes and fast-food grease.
Arthur had never been much of one to worry about the state of his skin, but he swore that he could feel his pores clogging the longer he stayed in the cab. He kept an eye on his mobile as they drove towards Ealdor. Sure enough, the signal continued to fade in and out as they drove. In a way, he was lucky that he’d broken down where he did. He didn’t have to walk to find signal.
The mechanic Tommy recommended turned out to be a tiny garage with a flat above. A faded sign hung above the bay and read “Emrys Mechanic Services”, and it hung from a set of chains that were visibly weathered. Arthur made sure to give it a wide berth, lest the whole thing come crashing down on his head.
“Merlin!” Tommy bellowed, “Got a car for you!”
Tommy returned to unhooking Arthur’s car from the truck, and Arthur was left standing to the side, waiting for the mysterious mechanic to emerge from the garage.
Just as the car was lowered to the ground, a young man stepped outside. He was roughly Arthur’s own age. He wore a pair of jeans that hung baggy on his slim frame and a flannel shirt that was heavily stained with black motor grease. His hair was a mess, and not the carefully manicured mess that Arthur saw on the trendy young men walking around London. It looked like he hadn’t run a brush through his hair in weeks. He had high cheekbones and blue eyes in a narrow, pale face. He looked more suited to being an academic or a moody model on the cover of a high fashion magazine than fixing cars in a tiny Welsh town that didn’t appear on maps unless you looked it up online.
He looked over the car, looked over Arthur, smiled in a way that was somehow both amused and sympathetic, and said, “You took the left fork.”
“Yes.” Arthur said tightly, “I’ve been informed that was a mistake.”
“Not your fault. Happens to a lot of visitors. Locals have been petitioning for years to get a sign put up, but the council won’t fork over the money.”
“Not that I’m not appreciative of your attempts, can you please just tell me how long it will take to fix my car?”
Merlin rolled his eyes, “I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet. I won’t know the extent of the damage until I get in there.”
“How long will it take for you to get in there?”
“At least half an hour.”
Arthur glanced at the time on his mobile, grimaced, and said, “Fine. I’ll come later. Just tell me how to get to Nemeth House from here.”
“Why do you want to go to Nemeth House?”
“If you must know, I’m going to propose to my girlfriend. My visit is a surprise, and I’m eager to get there so she stops thinking that I’m an asshole.”
Merlin raised his eyebrows and tilted his head forward uncertainly.
“What?’ Arthur snapped.
“You’re trying to prove to Mithian Nemeth you’re not an asshole by proposing to her?”
“There are extenuating circumstances.”
“On your head be it.” Merlin said, “It’s an hour walk from here, unless you want to pay Tommy to drive you.”
The idea of spending another second in the cab of Tommy’s truck made Arthur nauseas. He shook his head, and Merlin stepped inside to write down directions on scrap of paper in the event that Arthur lost signal on his way to Nemeth House.
*
Nemeth House was gorgeous. It put Uther’s country home to shame. Snow had yet to fall, but ice glinted on the roof and made it shine. It was a marvel of stone architecture and looked like it had stepped right off the pages of a storybook with its ivy-covered walls and pristine gardens. Even in the middle of December, the rose bushes that lined the drive were immaculately maintained.
Arthur just wished he could enjoy it more.
The problem with leaving directly from the office was that he was still dressed in work clothes. His feet were killing him. Shoes designed to look office appropriate were also not designed for traction, support, or general comfort. He had a blister forming on the Achilles tendon on his left foot, and another forming on the side of the pinky toe joint on his right foot. He’d stopped twice to adjust his socks, but somehow, they’d still slipped down inside his shoes. He was sweating from the weight of his wool suit and coat, and he still smelled like cigarette smoke and fast food thanks to Tommy.
He would consider himself lucky if Mithian said yes given his state.
He limped up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. As he was waiting for someone to answer, he knelt down and fixed his socks for a third time.
The door creaked open as he was relacing his right shoe. An older woman peered down at him from behind a pair of bedazzled purple spectacles and asked, “Can I help you, Sir?”
Arthur staggered upright and bit back a squeak of pain, “I’m looking for Mithian.”
“I’m afraid I—”
“I’m Arthur Pendragon.” Arthur said, realizing that a strange man asking after Mithian would be met with rightful suspicion, “Her boyfriend down from London. Her father invited us for Christmas, and I was able to get off work early.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, soft cheeks squishing up into a warm smile, “Yes, I know who you are now. I believe Miss Mithian is around back in the stables. I could go fetch her if you like.”
“No. No, I want to go to her myself. Where is the stable?”
“Go around back of the house, and walk to the bottom of the hill. You’ll run right into it.”
“Thank you.” Arthur said and managed not to limp away as he went in search of the stables.
The stables were exactly where Arthur was told they would be, and he nearly wept with relief when he saw them. Soon his ordeal would be over. He’d be relaxing with Mithian in the house, enjoying the glow of being a happily engaged couple. He could take a shower so he stopped stinking, and they could bicker about the merits of cricket versus football while he applied bandages to his blisters.
As he approached, a horse was led out of the stables by two figures. One was a man a few years older than Arthur, dressed in work boots and a sturdy jacket. The other was Mithian. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail was a bit unusual for her usual style, but given that she was also wearing jeans, Arthur chalked it up to working outside. Didn’t matter. She was still as beautiful as ever.
“Mithian!” he called.
Mithian paused, then turned and met Arthur’s gaze. An array of emotions played across her face –surprise, uncertainty, confusion— and she turned to the man next to her. She whispered something to him that Arthur didn’t catch as he approached, and the man slunk off with the horse trailing behind him.
“What are you doing here?” Mithian asked as Arthur reached out, intending to hug her.
Arthur retracted his arm, “I came to see you. I’m sorry about what happened before you left. I didn’t realize that you were upset.”
“You bailed on Christmas with my father to work, and you didn’t realize I was upset.”
“Well, I knew you were disappointed that I couldn’t come for the full time, but I had a good reason for working so hard.”
Mithian crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, “Oh?”
“I wanted to do this a bit more romantically, but well, given the circumstances…” Arthur fumbled the ring box out of his coat pocket and sunk to one knee in the damp grass, “Mithian Alexandra Nemeth, you are far and away the most beautiful, talented, determined woman I have ever met. I love you, and nothing would make me happier than getting to be your husband. Would you do me the great honor of marrying me?”
“No.”
Arthur blinked, frowned, shook his head. He had to have heard her wrong. They’d talked about spending their lives together. This wasn’t coming out of the blue. They had looked at houses to buy together in case they felt like they had outgrown their shared flat. She couldn’t be saying no.
“No.” Mithian repeated when Arthur didn’t immediately rise to his feet, “You’ve wasted your trip.”
“But… I thought we wanted to get married.”
“That was before you showed me once again that you don’t really care about me.”
“What? Mithian, I was only working so hard because I was paying off the ring and the trip to Greece I planned to celebrate.”
“If you knew me at all, you would know that I would care more that you came with me for Christmas than any silly expensive ring, or extravagant trip—”
“I booked a tour of the ruins you studied at school—”
“Osian knows me better than you ever did.”
“Who is Osian?”
“All you care about is business!” Mithian said again, “You were always working late! You were late to a dinner party I hosted for our friends because you were at the office!”
“You missed your own birthday party to close a deal! I’m hardly the only career focused person here!”
Mithian’s face softened, and she cupped Arthur’s cheek. Aware of the fact that he was still kneeling while holding out the ring, Arthur snapped the box closed and lurched to his feet. Mithian dropped her hand from his face and took a step back to give him room. She was looking at him with something uncomfortably close to pity, Self-consciously, Arthur stuffed the ring box back into the pocket of his coat.
“I got it specially designed.” He mumbled, unable to meet her eyes.
“Oh, Arthur. I’m sorry you had to come to the conclusion this way, but we’ve always been better friends than lovers, don’t you think? You’re a very loveable person underneath it all, but I want more than just loveable. I want someone who takes my breath away and never stops. I want someone who is utterly enchanted by me, not someone who thinks I’m good fun. Don’t you understand?”
“You want someone like Osian, I assume.” Arthur said stiffly.
“Don’t be like that. You’d like him if you had a chance to meet him. He’s a wonderful man.”
“Must be if you’re willing to abandon a six year relationship for him in less than a week.”
“We knew each other growing up.” Mithian explained, “When I came home this year, my father had hired him to work the grounds now that our old groundskeeper had retired. We just picked up where we left off. You can understand, can’t you?”
No. Arthur couldn’t understand. He’d spent six years building his life with Mithian in mind. He had given up playing in the charity league because Mithian was bored at the matches and hated football with a passion. He decided he would rather spend more time with Mithian than continue with a hobby she hated. When trying to decide between green wallpaper and blue, they had gone with blue because Mithian had liked it better and Arthur hadn’t been all that picky about the wall color to begin with. When she threw him a surprise party for his birthday one year, he never told her that he hated surprise parties and unpredictability in general because throwing him the party made her happy. They had gotten the flat closer to the park than the high street because Mithian had a hard time sleeping with the traffic noise outside the window at Arthur’s old flat.
Years, he’d spent making sure that he took Morgana’s advice and learning to compromise. Years, he’d made sure to do what he could to be a good boyfriend for Mithian. Business was the only sticky point, but he’d thought they were of the mutual understanding that their relationship worked because neither of them were willing to compromise their careers for a love life.
Now that was all being thrown back in his face as Mithian proudly proclaimed herself in love with another man she hadn’t seen since she was a teenager.
His face must have said it all. Mithian stepped forward and took Arthur’s hand and squeezed it just like she had at the coffee shop a week ago, “You’ll find someone too. You know you will. Let me walk you back to your car.”
“My car is in the shop.” Arthur said bitterly, “I wrecked on the left fork.”
“Then let me give you a lift to Merlin’s. Your feet must be killing you in those shoes.”
“I’ll walk.”
“Arthur—”
“I’ll walk.” Arthur repeated forcefully and shook Mithian’s hand free of his own, “I hope you’re very happy with this Osian.”
Mithian opened her mouth to say something else, but Arthur didn’t give her the chance. He turned and marched his way back up the hill, ignoring the fact that his feet were killing him. He had no interest in staying a moment longer. If he stayed any longer he would yell, and that would only confirm all the negative things that Mithian thought of him.
He had never been so humiliated in his life. Not even one of Morgana’s most heinous, devious childhood pranks lived up to this.
If he ever met Osian, he was going to hit him.