Chapter Text
‘Well done, Tristan. Get some rest on the flight back, and report for your debriefing tomorrow morning, 8am.’
‘Understood. See you tomorrow, Merlin.’
He smiled when he heard the codename. Technically, as there hadn’t been a new election yet, he was also Arthur, and some of the agents had even started calling him by that name. It was hateful. In any case, it was only supposed to be in the interim. How long that interim was going to last was unclear, however. The senior agents who would have naturally followed Chester’s reign had been found with their heads missing after V-Day. Or in Harry’s case… not found at all.
They had sent someone to Kentucky, but there wasn’t a single trace of Harry’s body. All they could do, was place a tombstone in the gardens, and take comfort in each other.
The line went dead, and Merlin shut off the monitor. The mission had lasted hours longer than expected, but the job was done, and the agent safe. He leaned back in his chair, and put his glasses on the desk, rubbing his eyes. When he opened them again, he noticed the cup of tea sitting next to his keyboard. Finding a cup of tea on his desk wasn’t in any way unusual, but this one… this one was still warm to the touch, even though he hadn’t gotten up from his desk for the better part of seven hours.
Merlin smiled, and made a mental note to bring scones and cakes into the office tomorrow. His staff truly was the reason he hadn’t walked out of this place times and times over.
He finished the cup, and brought it back to the little kitchenette they had in one corner of their department. Turning off the light at his desk, he picked up his notepad, and walked towards the lift. He’d have to be back in his office - Arthur’s office - in just under seven hours, and there was another stop he had planned before he was headed to his rooms.
It was almost midnight, and the only staff on call were down in Avalon, supporting the active agents on their missions. This part of the building was usually quiet, away from the kitchens and R&D department, the wing was mostly comprised of the agent’s quarters, the library on the ground floor, and the gallery filled with portraits of their former agents.
The last additions to that have been the one of James Spencer as Lancelot and Harry Hart as Galahad. It was still a matter of intense discussion around the table if the ones of Chester King and his followers should be added to the gallery. It wasn’t so much about whether they deserved to be honoured as knights - the remaining agents were agreed that they didn’t - but if they should hang their portraits as a reminder of the traitors in their ranks. Of how close their organisation had come to help bring along the end of the world.
Merlin stepped out of the lift, and walked down the long hallway without encountering anybody else. It suited him just fine, as the door he was looking for would only appear when there was no-one else in sight.
There, at the end of the corridor, it was. Just behind Galahad’s quarters.
Merlin smiled as he walked past their young agents’ door. Just last week Eggsy had called him from this very hallway, making a fuss about a door that wasn’t supposed to be there. Only it was.
The Room, capital letter and everything, was an open secret among the staff, although it was understood that you never mentioned it to someone who hadn’t found it on their own first - because who would ever believe such a story. Yet it was always noticeable when someone first came across it. There was an air of disbelief that not even the highest levels of training could hide completely. For some it was also the first smile on their faces in a long time. As it was with Percival.
Shortly after the previous Lancelot’s death Percival would visit The Room almost every night he wasn’t sent on a mission. The fact that his candidate made it through test after test made it easier for him, as the agents’ roles as mentors became more and more integral in the training the fewer candidates remained.
But Merlin knew he would find The Room unoccupied today. Most agents were sent across the world, their ranks still not completely filled. The few who weren’t currently on mission usually spent their time away from HQ, as was recommended by their in-house therapist. So the only people Merlin knew to be at the mansion were himself, Eggsy, and Roxy. Eggsy had come back from Finland with an assortment of bruises that made it necessary for him to spend at least another day at medical, and Roxanne wasn’t aware of The Room’s existence yet.
As he neared the door, Merlin thought of the last time he had walked through it. It was upon their return from Siberia on V-Day. He’d landed the plane, saw that Eggsy and Roxy were taken care of in medical, and called every agent who responded back to HQ. He patched all their glasses into the conference call, and quickly explained what had happened. He tasked his staff in Avalon to run diagnostics on all of Valentine’s tech that Eggsy had brought back from the cave, and to find the agents who hadn’t responded to his 999 call.
After that he had gone straight to The Room, ignoring everything and everyone who happened across him.
He’d stayed in there for 45 hours, ignoring what happened in the world outside.
It was Percival who had come to fetch him. Had it been anybody else, Merlin might not have listened. But there was something about the knight, his usually stoic demeanour already crumbling, the responsibility of leading Kingsman as their senior agent wearing him down, that made his appeal to Merlin for help be heard.
Merlin left The Room, bracing himself to face the rest of his life.