Ugh, I've written this before, and I tried to just add flashbacks to explain how they met (because these are always interesting, right? How would they meet in the modern era?), but the lack of chronological order was just too much. I created two different meetings between Merlin and Gwen.
I'm going to just keep the original names as much as I can, like Merlin still came from Ealdor, the university is going to be called, erm...Camelot University...in the city of Camelot...which is in the state of Camelot...in the country of Albion...yes. Total sense.
OKAY! Logic: The state is Camelot, the city matters absolutely zilt, and the uni is just Camelot State University. The uni is in the very center of the state, and Ealdor is at the edge of the state, Cenred. Yeah...sense. City name ideas? Geography stuff you wish to share so that I may not look like a loser? Feel free to comment…or review in this case.
MAGIC IS A THING THAT HAPPENS‼
Some names have been changed to others. Let's just say Merlin, Hunith and Gaius are not standard names.
Arthur is fine (which irks me~)
Merlin shall be Morgan (it's the actor's last name! 0.o)
Gaius = Galen (not any better...but I've heard it some…)
Will is still Will :P
Hunith = Hazel~ it's a warm name~
Guinevere goes right to Gwendolyn (:P).
Lancelot = Lance Elliot ^^
Elyan shall be... Eli
Percival ~ Percy. Just Percy.
Uther = Luther ^^;
Leon = Why not just Leon? :d
Morgana ~ Also Morgan ^^ hence the nickname "Merlin" to avoid confusion~
Gwaine …is perfect. I love him. Biases. He's foreign anyway (shrug?)
Freya (she's still in the water, no change there ^^)
Aithusa because Kilgharrah is dead o.o
Balinor...is...not...alive? Whaaaat~~? Yeah, no. No point to him after dragons died out (leaving only Aithusa). He does appear in video tapes, so Morgan already feels he's pretty irreplaceable ^^
Without further ado, I introduce the modern Merlin, in which Merlin died after the tragic event. I don't know yet, suicide, accident, tragedy, perhaps a murder. I'm just making sure Merlin doesn't notice (or intends it) and dies. , and so without further ado, I introduce the modern Merlin, in which Merlin died after the tragic event. I don't know yet, suicide, accident, tragedy, perhaps a murder. I'm just making sure Merlin doesn't notice (or intends it) and dies.
Leaving Ealdor wasn't all that hard of a choice. Morgan had few friends and his mother had insisted he leave to help her old friend, Galen. She was certainly excited by the prospect of sending her only son an entire five-hundred miles away to one of the best colleges in the country of Albion.
Maybe Morgan was just as excited by this, but he made sure to look at least 40% resentful when sharing the news with Will.
Will, of course, had a piss-poor attitude. This was to be expected, but Morgan made sure to remind him that he had never planned to stay in Ealdor. He actually wanted to become something that required a college life.
"Huff and puff all you want, Will, I'm going. I've always wanted to be a nurse..."
"You used to want to be a firefighter too," Will retorted ,pushing in a drawer with extra force and dumping the clothes he was helping Morgan pack on the naked mattress, "and a lumberjack. You also wanted to be a magician."
"That one worked out," Morgan reminded him.
"Then why not stay as one? Work at little kids' parties," he trailed off. Morgan knew that Will knew that was a stupid argument, but felt sending him a look was still necessary.
Will rolled his eyes. "You know that school is full of pricks, and they're all rich and condescending-"
"I'm used to pricks," Morgan answered, sending him a grin as he folded his favorite shirt.
"Yeah, well...you look incredibly gay with that scarf," Will shot back. It didn't work.
"It's a neckerchief. Listen, Will."
Sensing the suddenly serious mood, Will stopped searching for a better comeback (because, honestly, he'd been the one to suggest Morgan could pull off the neckerchief in the first place) and listened.
"Mom really wants me to go. I want to go, mostly because I actually really really want to help people. I've never been able to...to use my abilities," referring to his magic, "to help, but maybe I can really help by becoming a doctor. Besides, what is there for me here? There's mum. There's you. You have friends, you have opportunities, but no one in this tiny town actually likes me. Some more obviously than others."
This was true. Though it wasn't stated aloud, it was obvious that Morgan wasn't well liked. He often brought trouble with him, and Ealdor was a superstitious town. Morgan's departure would be well received.
"Fine," Will said. "It's not like it's my choice anyway. Just don't come crying to me when you get bullied by rich little prats out there in Camelot."
Morgan scoffed. "It's a brave new world."
"My arse."
…
Dear Galen,
Thank you for accepting my son's internship under your wing. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be able to send him to any school at all. I have been worried for Morgan. He doesn't fit in here in Ealdor. It's such a small place, and he was built for something great, I just know it. Sometimes, I wish he weren't. Sometimes, I wish he was normal, but he isn't and there is nothing I can do for him, especially if I keep him here by my side. He'll be much happier with you, I know it. Please teach him well, and keep him safe. Thank you.
Your old friend,
Hazel.
Confused, the old university doctor put aside Hazel's letter. It was no trouble at all, honestly. He was in need of a bit of help, and to have such a young student willing to become his assistant was a miracle. The last one had already graduated, and he'd only lasted a few months. Before that, few had been willing to help the doctor. Galen was confident this lad would be outstanding if, already, he accepted the tasks.
He must be very special, he thought, updating his attendance record. University students came to the office more often than not, and it was a hassle on the worst of days, but quite peaceful on the best. What makes him abnormal enough to run him from his hometown?
Galen had been to Ealdor once before. He'd met Morgan as a mere baby. Nothing strange back then, obviously, except how oddly welcoming the town was. It was small and nice to guests.
Galen suddenly feared that Morgan may be too much to handle, if that amicable town hadn't been able to.
Well, he thought, I haven't lived this long to be intimidated by a brat. Besides, I'm sure Morgan is a lovely boy.
Morgan turned around, just in time to see Will run up to his mother's side. They were standing at the train station, and Morgan was only just boarding his. It was the nearest station there was, from a city next to Ealdor, so it was more crowded than Morgan would have liked.
"Adios, you prat!" Will yelled, loud enough for everyone to hear. Morgan bit back a laugh. Will was convinced he'd become a conceited rich boy during his time spent at Camelot University, which was hilarious. Morgan didn't have more than 30 pounds in his pocket, and he was going to help Dr. Richard as an unpaid intern. Hopefully he'd get a job outside of campus.
"I'll send an email when I get there!" Yes, they were less than well off, but not poor enough to not be able to buy Morgan a laptop (though he suspected Will had chipped in to help). Will had his own, so communication was not impossible.
Although Morgan was going off on his own, he was sure he wouldn't feel lonely. Camelot was only a state or so away, what was he worrying about? It was a very large state, but...
Morgan was sure this would be fine! He looked back once more to see his mother smiling and crying—and didn't that break his heart—and Will crossing his arms in a distinct I'm-too-manly-to-show-tears manner.
This was strange. For a second there, he'd imagined Will would accompany him for a few miles before leaving Morgan on his own, but that was just a silly idea, wasn't it? He wasn't walking to Camelot.
Déjà vu was not something new for Morgan. It happened more often than he would think normal, but he also had magic coursing through his veins—so thoroughly integrated in him—he was bound to be strange in more ways than one. He tried ignoring it, but it never worked. Instead, now he embraced it.
There were hills, just past the station he waled out of, and these hills were what he had to walk through to reach the large college campus. It felt strange, carrying so much stuff. This strange feeling is what he came to refer to as a broken déjà vu. Sometimes, things just went the way they were "supposed to" and other times they didn't. It confused his instincts to no end.
He smiled mirthfully at the view of the castle-like structure that would be his new school and home.
Déjà vu, not completely broken, so everything was going just fine.
"Colin. Morgan Colin," Morgan told the secretary. He had entered the university safely, despite the constant hustle and bustle of student threatening to knock him over. The man behind the desk seemed to be slightly interested in a certain line under his name.
"It says here that you've come to assist Dr. Richards as his assistant?"
"Yes," Morgan nodded and grinned. "He's my mum's friend, you see, and I've-"
"He should be in the health centre. There's an entrance in the east wing." He handed Morgan a slip of paper, a note for Dr. Richards, no longer interested in the boy in front of him.
Morgan's smile froze on his face.
He eventually reached for the slip of paper and walked away. "Thank you," he remembered to say before closing the office door.
The east wing had less commotion than the campus outside. He spotted doors labelled "CAFETERIA" and "COMPUTER LAB 1".
How many computer labs does this uni have?
Just as he expected, the door with bold "NURSE'S OFFICE" on its translucent glass was not far off. He opened the door and entered with a grin on his face. That had been easy.
Once inside, he succumbed to the silence pervading the small room. Health centre? This is just a normal nurse's office. There was only a bed, a crowded desk with a visitor's chair and an office chair facing a monitor, and a sink.
"Hello?" Morgan called out quietly. It remained silent.
Morgan let go of the bags he was carrying, figuring it was safe to leave then beside the desk. With only his drawstring hanging from his back—it would have been much easier to steal from that—he scavenged the office.
It was too clean, he felt rather than thought. He figured a physician would have more books around, especially Dr. Richard. His mother had certainly made it clear that he was the only doctor on campus, and that he worked 24/7, usually with strange remedies.
"Why's that?", he'd asked.
"It seems the director is a close friend of his. The man has too much trust in Galen."
"But you're sending me for him to babysit."
"No no no, Morgan. You are going to help Galen with anything you can. I warn you, if I hear a single word of your misconduct from him, I will drag you back to Ealdor myself. Is that clear?"
"Crystal!"
He probably wouldn't learn much about nursing from Dr. Richard (in the doctor's eyes he was only a brat looking for free education), but he probably had four years of Camelot University to look forward to as well. He was still required to take a math course or two and two semesters of foreign language, but he was otherwise free to take Basic nutrition or human anatomy.
"Oh," Morgan mouthed, sighting a white door on the side of the room, near the sink. Had that always been there? He opened it without hesitance and squinted at the natural light that temporarily blocked his view.
He'd thought the door would lead to a closet, a back room at the most. Instead, he found a study covered in bookshelves from wall to wall and a bed in the right hand corner. There was a coffee table with scattered sheets of paper and an open book. Coffee had been splattered across most of the paper.
How accommodating...
He looked up to find that the library of a bedroom—because that is what it was—also had a second story. It was only a short balcony that led to more books and empty jars, apparently not worthy of regular stairs since it only had wooden steps Morgan would expect to find on a tree house.
In this compact part of the room was a silver-haired man, scavenging through containers.
"Dr. Richard?" Morgan said, failing to attract the man's attention. He cleared his throat loud enough to catch his ear.
The doctor turned and took a few steps back, seemingly ready to greet the strange visitor. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd forgotten just how short the balcony was and fell right off the edge.
Panicked, Morgan failed to move forward to catch the man—not that he would have succeeded—but his eyes flashed—a deep and ominous gold, or so Will had said—and Dr. Richard's fall seemed to halt. But he was still falling. Slowly. Very slowly.
Despite the temporary solution, the doctor was going to land eventually, so Morgan scanned the room for any help. The bed was in a far corner and the coffee table blocked part of its path, but Morgan had no time to deal with the already soiled table.
With another golden flash of his eyes the twin bed made its way under the still falling doctor. Like magic, which it was, the spell Morgan had managed to place on Dr. Richard dispersed and vanished, letting the man fall onto the soft covers with a loud thwap!
Morgan glanced at the coffee table. The cup of coffee lay on the book, absolutely empty, and a spot on the floor was growing increasingly wet.
"Sorry about that," Morgan hissed.
"I- What did you just do!?" The doctor recovered quickly, sitting up tensely.
"Um..." Morgan lifted his hands slightly, afraid the elder may have been moving too quickly.
"Tell me!" Dr. Richard didn't seem to notice his preoccupation, as he stood up with shaken grace.
"I- I have no idea what happened," he tried playing it off. "If I hear a single word of your misconduct from him, I will drag you back to Ealdor myself. Is that clear?" His mother's words still echoed in his mind.
The doctor looked behind Morgan, up to the balcony and then to Morgan again. "If anyone had seen that-" he began.
"No, no! That- That had nothing to do with me! What was that, it was like-"
"I know what it was," Dr. Richard exclaimed. "I want to know where you learned how to do it."
Morgan almost choked on his own breath. There was absolutely no possible way this man was serious. Learn magic? Who believed in magic?! No one believed in magic this day and age.
"I-"
"How is it you know magic!?" Maybe he did believed in magic...
"I don't?" Morgan tried denying it once more, but most of his fervor was gone. It was obvious he'd been caught.
"Where did you study?"
Morgan's eyebrows furrowed slightly. Study where? Hogwarts?
"Answer me," the doctor exclaimed loudly, growing impatient.
"I-I've never studied magic o-or been taught," Morgan stuttered.
"Are you lying to me, boy?" The doctor took a step forward, and Morgan shrunk.
"What do you want me to say?" He responded, becoming frustrated as well.
"The truth."
"I was born like this."
"That's impossible," Dr. Richard shook his head, as if Morgan had answered the question wrong. He looked toward the bed and back to Morgan. "Who are you?"
Glad to be off the subject of his magic, despite being intrigued by the thought of a wizarding school or becoming a sorcerer's apprentice, Morgan searched his pockets feverishly. "Oh, I-I have a note." He didn't have the note. He patted down his pockets, but found only lint.
"I don't have my glasses," the doctor shook it off, and Morgan wondered if he was getting jumpier.
"I'm Morgan," he finally said.
That seemed to bring the doctor back to reality. He exclaimed in a more jovial voice, "Hazel's son?"
"Yes!" Morgan grinned. Finally, they were getting somewhere.
"But you're not meant to be here till Wednesday," Dr. Richard said.
"It is," Morgan fought to not narrow his eyes in disbelief, "Wednesday..."
"Ah," the doctor seemed surprised. "Right then. Perhaps we should discuss a few arrangements. Did you bring any baggage?" Well, he played it off coolly, Morgan had to admit.
"Right outside," Morgan nodded, and headed toward the nurse's office. He paused before reaching the door and turned around to find the elder man still looking at him. "You won't say anything about- um," he avoided the term magic.
"No," Dr. Richard shook his head.
Morgan nodded, figuring he may as well trust the man. He had no other choice. Besides, he seemed as intent on keeping it a secret as Morgan was.
"Although, Morgan!" He turned around at his name. "I should say, thank you."
Again, Morgan nodded, offering a small smile before continuing on his path.
The arrangements Galen—as the doctor insisted he call him—had mentioned related to where Morgan would spend the night.
"I thought I would be staying with you," Morgan said, brow furrowing. He'd felt it. He didn't like breaking déjà vu.
"I've only got this study," Galen said. "I found a house was unnecessary when my only job required me to stay in at all times. There's no guest room here, and apart from the health centre there's only my study. All doors here lead to the nurse's office, a kitchen, a bathroom, and the lab. It's quite comfy, actually."
The health centre was much bigger than the study, Morgan discovered later.
"I hadn't really thought about it," the teenager bit his cheek.
"Lucky for you, Luther and I had discussed this a while back," Galen said. Luther was the director of the school, basically Morgan's new king. "We think it'd be best if you stayed with his son. He's the only boy living without a dorm mate, and no other rooms are available."
Morgan accepted. He'd been prepared to live with an old man—living with a rich prat made no difference to him.
"Of course, the matter still lies in whether Arthur is willing to let you stay with him.
Maybe it made a slight difference.
"For today, I'm afraid you'll have to sleep in the nurse's office, as the centre never closes. The main building is off limits after ten."
"At least I'll have a bed tonight," Morgan sighed. Tomorrow would be another day.
When Galen checked his e-mail that night, he found a message from Hazel herself. He hadn't been aware of her owning a computer at all, but he thought it was easier to keep in contact with Morgan that way.
Subject: This is Hazel Colin
Will Maxwell willmaxwell1996 - 3:29 PM (5 hours ago)
Dear Galen,
I hope this reaches you. I'm depending on you because I feel so lost and alone, and I don't know who to trust. Every mother thinks their child is special, but I would give my life for Morgan to not be so. Ealdor is a small town, with a small community that Morgan is clearly at odds with. If he stayed here, I don't know what would happen to him. He needs a hand to hold. A voice to guide. Someone to help him find a purpose for his gifts.
I beg you, if you understand a mother's love for her son, keep him safe. And may God keep you both safe.
Hazel
Galen looked at the boy who was sitting on the white bed behind him. He was on a lap top, shiny and obviously new, perhaps reading an e-mail his mother had sent him through Will's account, whoever that may be.
He was smiling brightly, flushing with joy, so Galen could only assume he was correct.
Galen heaved a deep sigh, wondering just how Hazel had come to bear and raise such a natural. He would be lying if he said he wasn't slightly envious. His own magic was powerful, but it had taken him years to succeed in using it. He was out of practice nowadays—and for good reason.
If he had known this would happen, he would have warned Hazel of Luther. As it was, few actually knew of real magic, and those who did abhorred it. Luther was a great man, but even great men—especially great men—could be dangerous. He hated it, "this 'old religion' blasphemy", he'd called it.
However, an education had been promised to Morgan, and Hazel seemed to be at her wit's end. Galen could raise this boy for four years. He could surely keep him from harm.
He had to.
Morgan woke up with a start. Actually, he'd woken up slowly, but almost jumped out of the bed he was on when he realized he was not in his room.
Thock thock thock thock.
He looked to the door near the sink, from where Galen emerged. He seemed pleased to find Morgan up so early.
"Breakfast is ready." Morgan nodded his thanks, and the elder retreated.
Taking a deep breath, sure that the doctor was going to question his magic now that they were both well rested, Morgan dragged his feet onto the floor.
He would take a shower the instant he had a dorm, he decided. For today he'd have to make do with washing his face in the sink. He dried himself off with his neckerchief, looking himself over. He'd slept in his clothes, unwilling to slide into his less proper sleeping clothes. Especially in a public office.
His boots felt uncomfortable so early in the morning...
Sighing, Morgan made his way to Galen's study.
The coffee table had been cleared since yesterday's incident. It now had a fresh bowl of substance and a cup of milk—which was dangerously close to the edge.
"You can sit on the bed if you'd like," Galen called from the kitchen. Morgan did.
"Is this..." Morgan started, but found no words for the food in his bowl. He tried to remember the porridge his mum had served him before, and found little resemblance in the goop in front of him.
"Porridge," Galen finished for him. "Yes, it is. Enjoy." Just a bit tart.
Food's food, Morgan shook off his disgust, gulping and bringing the spoon closer to his mouth.
It was then that Galen, with his own bowl (of cereal, not "porridge, Morgan noted), "accidentally" hit the table, knocking the glass of milk off.
Morgan's eyes flashed, and the glass stopped almost completely. He stood up with the intent to avoid getting the floor wet, but caught Galen's eyes instead.
He stared.
Galen stared back.
They both stared at the tipped glass and floating liquid.
Shite, Morgan thought, letting the glass fall to the floor. Its contents spilled violently, and he heard the glass itself crack, but nothing broke.
"How did you do that?" He heard Galen ask. Morgan looked at the doctor questioningly. He clarified, "Did you incant a spell in your mind?"
"Incant?" Morgan wondered at the word. As in reciting words? "I don't know any spells."
"So what did you do? There must be something."
Morgan licked his lips. "It just happens."
Galen seemed to look through him, causing Morgan to swallow. The doctor looked down at the spilled milk, and Morgan quickly picked up the glass.
"I'll clean it up," he said, heading to the closet in front of the kitchen. Luckily, he found a mop. He avoided Galen's stare for a long while, until the elder spoke again.
"Well, we'd better keep you out of trouble," Galen said. Morgan could understand that.
"You can help me, but I don't think the pay will be too well off," he continued.
"That's fine," Morgan said quickly. "I didn't think I'd, uh, get paid."
"Well why not," Galen wondered.
"You've already helped get into uni, Galen. I don't know if you should pay me at all."
"Well, you've got to eat somehow, Morgan," Galen said, and then handed the boy two bags with prescriptions and names. "Some teachers choose to live on campus," he said, "in a building apart from the student dorms. There is, however, one supervisor living in the ladies' dorm and another in the men's. Miss Percival and Mr. Owen should still be in the student dorms." Morgan nodded.
"Mr. Owen is as blind as a weevil, so warn him not to take it all at once."
"Okay." Morgan processed all the information as if his life depended on it. He separated the two bags, knowing he would confuse them if he didn't despite the names printed clearly and in bold.
"And here." Galen entered and exited the small kitchen quickly, smiling as he presented a regular sandwich to Morgan.
And Morgan couldn't have been more thankful. He grinned mirthfully, knowing he might actually get on with Galen. He'd better. He was spending the next four years with him.
"Off you go," the elder nodded to the exit, still blunt and slightly tart. Morgan took the sandwich and began to walk.
"And Morgan? I hardly need to tell you that magic is strictly forbidden in front of anybody, and could get you targeted if you're not careful."
Morgan almost nodded, but paused. "Targeted?"
Galen swallowed, remembering Morgan was novel to the works. "I'll explain when you get back. Now hurry along. And no magic."
This time, Morgan did nod, and left.
Morgan was sure Mr. Owen would be fine, despite drinking an entire bottle of medicine... He made his way out of the men's dorm, a little less joyful than before, but the skip in his step was still there.
He stopped at the sight of a few blokes enjoying themselves with a game of Frisbee. It seemed to be a version of Monkey in the Middle, as one of the boys—the more gangly one—chased after the disc.
Morgan decided to stick around and watch, seeing as they were having such fun. The bumbling boy in the middle seemed to be intent on catching the disc, and Morgan had always loved to root for the underdog.
"Come on, man," a buff blond teased. "It's not that hard." He threw the disk just so, and it headed to the right, but boomeranged left at the last second, which was all one of the other players needed to keep it out of bumbling boy's reach.
Morgan smiled slightly.
The bumbling boy seemed tuckered out. He was sweating so hard, Morgan wondered if he should offer the lad a cup of water.
He glared at the buff, spitting on the ground before stomping off. Morgan frowned, confused by the real anger portrayed by the no-longer-bumbling boy.
"Aww," the buff blond taunted. "Do you not want your Frisbee back? Guess I'll have to keep it after all."
"It's just a damned Frisbee," the boy growled. "What's it to you, anyway?"
The blond seemed to think things over. "Nothing, nothing," he said, "You're right. Here, just take it." He extended his arm, standing still despite his friends encouraging him to mess with the boy some more.
Said boy hesitated, but made his way to the blond with a curious and indignant expression on his face. He made to grab the Frisbee, but it was soon out of the blond's hands and flying toward a friend of his.
The blond buff then proceeded to trip the bumbling boy, and continued to daunt him further more by continuing to play with the Frisbee.
At this point, Morgan was quite aware of this being a case of bullying rather than friendly competition. He headed down a small slope to help the bumbling boy up.
"Hi," he said. The boy only stared, but the blond seemed to apprehend him. "Come on, that's enough," Morgan said, trying to play it cool.
"What?"
"You've had your fun, my friend," Morgan continued, smiling amicably.
The buff—really buff, Morgan realized—blond made his way towards him. "Do I know you?"
"Oh," Morgan stuttered, "I'm Morgan." He automatically raised his hand to shake, as if he expected to get along with the other. His gesture went unnoticed, or ignored.
"So I don't know you."
He put the hand down. "No."
"Yet you call me 'friend'."
Morgan nodded to himself, "That was my mistake."
"Yes, I think so," the buff blond didn't hesitate to answer.
Just as well, Morgan didn't hesitate to continue, "Yeah, I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."
Morgan decided he should stop there before his ass got kicked, so he walked away in an attempt to end the conversation.
Sadly, the blond had other plans, as he himself continued with, "Nor I one who could be so stupid."
Oh boy, he thought. I should have kept my mouth shut.
"Tell me, Morgan," the blond went on, "Do you know how to walk on your knees?"
But Morgan refused to act cowardly. The blond bully had forgotten the Frisbee by now, as it was somewhere at the feet of the bumbling boy—who was staring at Morgan like he was insane.
"No," Morgan answered, biting back a remark. He didn't want things to escalate to a full-on battle. He still had an errand to run, something at the back of his mind reminded him.
"Would you like me to help you?" It seemed like a reasonable threat for such a strong guy to make, but the energy that constantly swirled and twisted throughout his veins provided a constant reminder that he had a very powerful weapon.
It was because of that that he couldn't hold in the chuckle, and said, "I wouldn't if I were you."
The blond himself seemed to find his confidence amusing. "Why?" He grinned. "What are you gonna do to me?"
"You have no idea." It was then that Morgan regretted every decision he'd taken since Galen had given him the errands that morning.
"…could get you targeted if you're not careful." Morgan could not use magic to win this fight, therefore Morgan could not win this fight.
"Be my guest," the blond stood back to display a vulnerable stance. "Come on. Come on! Come on."
As bad a plan as it was, Morgan's blood boiled at the sight of the blond's face, and the tone his voice took. He clenched he jaw and tried to punch him.
He was, of course, caught and handled in less than a second.
"I could have you expelled for that," the buff mused aloud.
"Who do you think you are?" Morgan spit, "King?" The word made him ache, but he ignored it in favor of his amounting anger.
"No, the director's son, Arthur Pendragon."
Morgan regretted everything.
The school, of course, had a jail. Of course the school had a jail.
Morgan groaned loudly, leaning his head against the wall. He regretted everything! Yet he was going to lose it all at once anyway. He was going to be expelled. His mother and Galen had gone through such trouble for nothing. He was going to disappoint everyone he cared about, and he'd only been in Camelot for two days.
He brooded on the bench, silently cursing his life and the magic that had given him the confidence to pick a fight in the first place.
The magic that had forced him to leave his home in the first place. Yes, he was aware of his mother's constant worrying when he didn't fit into superstitious Ealdor.
He looked around for a weapon to off himself with. Or maybe just a way to escape. Perhaps the blond had already forgotten what he looked like, putting him aside like he'd done with the bumbling boy. He could get away with it!
It was a doubtful plan, but Morgan was willing to put it into action.
He looked around, and even checked outside his cell. Was this even legal? He'd been brought to what he could only describe as a dungeon, since it was dark and murky, settled under the campus rather than in a building—though he'd had to enter through a building to reach it.
There was nothing but dark and murk. Morgan cursed once more, releasing a yell.
However, instead of the intended word he'd meant to come out, a much more guttural noise had made its way out of his mouth. He covered the offending body part in an instant, frightened.
What was that?
Whatever it had been, his magic had responded with fulgor. The noise had reverberated through him, shaking him to the core. It had been so powerful, unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
He tried cursing once more, but his voice was too meek. Entirely human, so soft and weak.
Morgan swallowed, still scared out of his wits of the dark voice he thought could have reached leagues across the world. He took a slow breath...
…and roared.
Merlin? was the response that came.
He jumped, looking around him for a woman who had somehow landed herself in prison. There was still only dark and murk around him.
"Hello?" He called in a normal voice.
Silence.
He sighed and sat down, placing his head between his hands. He was going mad.
Merlin? Where are you?
He had trouble listening, but he had heard and understood nonetheless.
Aithus-
His cell door opened with a slam, making Morgan jump three feet in the air.
"Morgan," said a seething Galen, though the boy was too happy to notice. Morgan grinned at the sight of his mentor, until he spoke again. "You never cease to amaze me—the one thing that someone like you should do is keep your head down! And what do you do? You behave like an idiot."
Morgan nodded along, pretending to reflect over his actions. "I'm sorry." But on his mind was still the voice, which had gone silent by now.
"You're lucky," Galen told him, "I managed to pull a few strings to get you out of trouble."
Morgan grinned so widely, he could not hold his voice in when he cheered to Galen. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" He sighed with a deep relief, still smiling at his mentor. "I won't forget this."
"Well," Galen did not respond appropriately to his cheer, "there is a small price to pay."
"Anything," Morgan responded without hesitance.
"Oh God," Morgan almost blasphemed, dodging a ball and blocking his face. The rest of his body was less protected, so he was struck in four places by four different balls.
"Move around a little, would you?"
He did so.
He hadn't known dodge ball was a professional sport that required an official team. When Galen had said he would be helping Coach Alan, who was in charge of the dungeon—as Morgan had taken to calling it—he thought he would be picking up balls or mopping the gym, maybe washing the uniforms.
Not getting targeted by bouncy red balls and all of the above!
Quite some people were watching as well, as if the occurrence weren't a rarity. Hell, little children were cheering on!
He did eventually adjust to the motions of the flying balls, something the team's coach scolded the players for. Morgan grinned as he dodged more balls than not by the end of the game—though by the next one they'd managed to hit him much more.
He finally escaped the balls, mostly because practice had ended, and so he got to picking them up—soothing his bruised body and ego every once in a while. Most of the audience had left, all but one dark-skinned girl with long curly hair tied back.
She made her way to him, at which point he dropped most of the balls he was carrying. She knelt to pick one up.
"I'm Gwendolyn," she started, "but my friends call me Gwen. I'm a literature major."
"Right," Morgan was only slightly taken aback by her presence. He had honestly expected more than one little kid to start throwing balls at him when practice ended, so he'd been ready to meet new people, just not his age. "Well, I'm Morgan." He extended his hand, noticed it was soaked in sweat, and wiped it on his shirt before offering it again.
She took it.
"Though," Morgan grinned, his broken ego mended by the girl's willingness to speak to him, "most people just call me idiot."
"No," Gwen shook her head furiously, "no! I saw what you did. That was brave."
As flattering as that was, Morgan shook his own head. "It was stupid."
"Well, I'm glad you walked away," Gwen continued, "you weren't going to beat him."
"Oh?" Morgan scoffed, "I could beat him."
"You think?" Gwen asked, disbelieving. "Because you don't look like one of these big muscly kind of fellows."
Morgan stared. "Thanks," he said tartly.
She seemed to realize her mistake, and quickly retracted the statement. "No! No, I'm sure you're stronger than you look." It didn't quite relieve Morgan to hear her say that. He frowned.
"Look," she stared at her hands, "It's just...Arthur's one of these real rough, tough save-the-world kind of guys, and, well..."
"What?!"
"You don't look like that."
Morgan gave a nod, before looking around and beckoning her closer. She leaned in.
"I'm in disguise." She laughed, which might have been the least insulting thing she'd done throughout their entire conversation, so he smiled back.
"Well, it's great that you stood up to him," Gwen leaned back, taller than before. Her lack of tact seemed to have discomforted her more that Morgan himself.
"You think so?" He picked up another ball and put it under his arm.
"Arthur's a bully," she explained, also picking up another ball, "and everyone thought you were a real hero."
Morgan paused, delighted. "Oh, yeah?"
She hummed her approval.
"Well. Thank you."
They smiled at each other, until she realized the time. "My class starts in a few minutes," she said, checking her watch. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to leave."
"It's fine," he waved and hurried her onward. "If you ever need me, you could ask for me at the health centre."
She paused. "And why's that?"
"Oh. I'm Dr. Richard's assistant. I'm studying to become a nurse."
That seemed to impress her slightly, but she was running late for class, so she only nodded and smiled before turning to run.
Morgan stared after her, grinning widely.
Galen had a sense of humor, despite the mean look in his eye—which Morgan thought was mostly the eyebrow's fault. He kept giving Morgan a look, obviously amused by every wince he gave.
Morgan would definitely bruise.
He sat down in a table at a corner of the uni's cafeteria. Galen sat in front of him.
"I know you're still mad at me," Morgan mused, taking a bite of his lunch.
"Your mother asked me to look after you," Galen explained, leaning in and softening his voice.
"Yes," Morgan nodded, lowering his voice to a whisper as well.
"What did your mother say to you about your gifts?"
"Well," Morgan said without enthusiasm. "She said I was...special."
Galen nodded, as if that were all he'd expected. "You are special. Unlike anyone I've seen before."
"What do you mean by that?" Morgan questioned, furrowing his brow. "I've never heard of real magic before, much less of real witches and wizards. Is there more like me? How come I've never met them?" So many questions tumbled around his head, but only a few made it out of his mouth.
"Morgan, you are incredibly unique, even to sorcerers. Magic requires incantations, spells. It takes years to study. What I saw you do was," he struggled with wording, "elemental. Instinctive."
"Then what's the point if I can't use it? This morning, you said magic was forbidden because I could get targeted. Why is that, Galen?"
Galen sighed. "This information is not meant for the public—especially any non-magical being," he warned.
Morgan looked at him attentively.
"Magic used to be common knowledge, a long time ago. Before even humans were born, magic was a thing which most intelligent beings referred to as the Old Religion."
"Old Religion," Morgan repeated.
"Yes. The Old Religion has a long history, but little of it is known to the modern world. If anyone has at all kept up with its past, it would be the druids."
"Who are the druids?"
"They are a peaceful, yet secretive people. Their magic is powerful in comparison to a sorcerer who's had to study to use it, but their beliefs prevent them from using it for evil," Morgan snorted at the word. Evil. That was rather dramatic.
Galen continued nonetheless, "They move around, nowadays, searching for potential wizards. I was astounded when you showed no knowledge of the magic community. Ealdor seems to be desolate of travel as it is, so it's no surprise that no one ever found you." He eyed Morgan dubiously. "Not that you needed an instructor."
Morgan grinned cheekily. "But that does not answer why I need to hide it."
"Druids are as trusting as they are secretive. They welcome the few sorcerers they can find into their families easily, unwary of the conniving men and women who are willing to use the Old Religion for their own selfish desires." He looked at Morgan seriously, "Not every man is good, Morgan. Some are terrible."
His assistant swallowed his food, hard.
"The few magic users could not maintain their abilities a secret from they friends and family, and so it spread. It was mostly kept a secret among themselves, as today's society would have rejected such beliefs. The good were attuned to the druid practices. The bad...the bad preferred to have their secrets secret."
Morgan could imagine the terrible things magic could cause. He'd caused many accidents himself, almost destroying his house various times. Lives were in danger around him, and he didn't even try.
What if he wanted to hurt? How terrible would the results be? Especially with no one aware of it being him causing disasters.
"Luther Pendragon knows of magic," Galen continued.
Morgan choked on his pasta. "He d-does?" he coughed.
"Yes. But he's seen the harm it does, and has sworn to keep the world safe from it."
"But that's insane," Morgan yelled. He looked to his left to find many students staring at him. "Sorry," he raised a hand. He turned back to Galen. "He's just one man, he can't do that. Besides, I thought you said there were good wizards."
"And there are, Morgan, but Luther doesn't see it that way."
"Why?"
"He's had bad experiences," was all the elder said.
Morgan stayed silent for a time. "Did...you ever study magic?"
Galen paused before shaking his head, "Luther has been my friend for almost 30 years, Morgan."
The boy looked at his food sullenly. Did that mean Galen had used magic, but given it up for his friend? "That's quite loyal," he commented.
Galen said nothing.
"But, there's one thing I don't understand," Morgan moved on. "Why do the druids want to keep the, uh, Old Religion a secret?"
"They seem to be waiting for someone," he answered.
"'Someone'?"
"Yes. They have prophecies dedicated to this someone. The Old Religion, you see, bases itself on the balance of magic, and it was thrown by the disappearance of it. They say a past king -King Uther -was the cause of it. The damage had been too large for the balance to return."
"That's terrible."
"So they say it was. They say that once the balance is back, peace shall reign the land."
"That seems highly unlikely," Morgan said, poking his now cold pasta. "So, this someone will bring back the balance? What if this someone never shows up?"
"They are druids, Morgan. Their prophecies are otherworldly, but true all the same." Morgan would have to take his word for it.
"Druid, huh," Morgan hummed. "Does that mean there's different types of magical people?"
"But of course! Most have, sadly, died out or gone into hiding from the modern world. Why, at one point even dragons had existed," Galen whispered excitedly.
"Really? That's amazing!"
"Yes, it must have been. Sadly, that was then and this is now," lamented the elder. "We should hurry, we will be meeting Mr. Pendragon in an hour, and as I recall you haven't showered in a while."
Morgan flushed, but nodded and ate.
Luther Pendragon was a respectable man. He was a man to be feared, Galen had said. Morgan had yet to know what being targeted truly implied, but he thought it was best not to ask.
He wasn't planning on getting caught either way.
Mr. Pendragon had assured Galen that his assistant would indeed have a dorm. It was only after the meeting ended that Morgan remembered he would have to share the dorm with the director's son. Arthur Pendragon.
Maybe he could convince Galen to let him stay at the nurse's office.
At least it seemed Arthur wasn't a total ass, since Morgan's education still seemed secure, and the director was unaware of his attempt to knock his son off his feet.
Though it hadn't worked, so maybe it didn't count?
It was only his second day in Camelot, still, yet Morgan felt homesick already.
I think I'll try out Skype, he thought. He was still new to most of the features on his computer, but he wasn't totally novel to the internet. Will had had two computers in his life. The older one being old and heavy, the newer one being a portable laptop. Although he'd never had a reason to communicate across the world wide web before...
This, he was thinking while walking back to the main building. Miss. Percival was still in the girl's dorm by the time he got around to giving her her medicine, so he'd had no trouble delivering it to her.
He thought that maybe his day had finally started to calm down, when he heard a voice he dreaded to no end.
"How's the knee walking coming along?"
It was Mr. Pendragon's prat of a son, of course. Morgan continued walking, his good mood ruined again. Arthur hadn't forgotten him after all, sadly. That was too bad, he was hoping to at least get along with his dorm mate a little.
"Aw, don't run away!"
Morgan stopped in his tracks. "From you?" He asked, clenching his jaw.
"Ah, thank God," the blond said instead, "I thought you were deaf as well as dumb."
He'd never been one to not answer back. "Look, I told you you were an ass," Morgan turned to face Arthur, who had a few of his friends behind him. "I just hadn't realized you were a royal one."
Arthur's eyebrows rose, and he looked around rather indignantly. Maybe the rich prat had never been told to the face?
"Oh," Morgan continued, "What are you going to do? Get your daddy to protect you?" Later, Morgan would wonder why he'd said such a thing. He'd been lucky enough to avoid a real fight the first time he faced Arthur.
Thankfully, the director's son seemed more amused by his display of confidence -considering he'd overpowered him the first time they met, Morgan couldn't blame him. Arthur laughed and said, "I could take you apart with one blow."
"I could take you apart with less than that." Which was true. It was a stupid response, but it was true.
"Are you sure?"
Morgan didn't quite think it through when he took off his unzipped jacket, but by the time it came off, he'd gotten into a scene. A crowd started forming around the pair.
"I'm warning you," Arthur smiled condescendingly, "I've been training in martial arts since birth." Morgan thought that might have been an exaggeration, but the blond seemed so confident in his statement that he almost believed him.
"Wow," Morgan answered sardonically, "How long have you been training to be a prat?"
The crowd oohed and chuckled.
It seemed Arthur wanted to say something. Morgan almost wanted to respond to that, but before he could say something else, Arthur threw the first punch.
Déjà vu was broken once again, but there was no time to ponder it. Morgan barely had the time to duck, much less throw his own, so instead he backed away.
"Come on, Morgan," Arthur followed with the crowd not far behind. "Come on!"
Usually Morgan would not have considered using magic at all, but, desperate situation tended to clear his head of all rationality (not that he'd been making an rational choices lately anyway).
Given the circumstances, he felt he had no choice but to use magic. He wasn't going to use it directly, of course. That would have hurt the buff blond in front of him, and he didn't want to put him in a hospital—nor did he want to end up getting "targeted", expelled or arrested.
The first thing Morgan did was trip over a girl who happened to be studying in the grass. "Hey!" He didn't apologize, crawling away just in time to avoid Arthur jumping over her and onto him.
"Honestly," she shouted, gathering her things.
The second thing he did was inconspicuously take a long root that was sticking out and bring it to Arthur's feet. He tripped and almost fell over. The time he took to recover his balance was what Morgan took to stand up and ready a punch.
Then he saw a familiar face in the crowd. Galen. The disappointment on his face made Morgan's victory less than joyous, and his shoulders drooped. Thankfully, or not, he wasn't given much of a chance to feel bad, as Arthur had recovered quickly.
He was back on the ground before he could even realize he'd been hit twice.
Arthur's lackeys began to pick him up and hold him down, probably hoping for Arthur to continue the beating. Morgan braced himself.
"Wait," the blond said. "Let him go." Morgan was released, and he looked up without speaking. "He may be an idiot, but he's a brave one."
He looked at Morgan, scrutinizing him. "There's something about you, Morgan. Though I can't quite put my finger on it." He shook his head...and walked away.
The crowd dispersed along with him.
Morgan was stared at his leaving figure, still feeling the excitement of a fight. He knew he wouldn't be expelled for anything, and neither would he get thrown in the dungeon or sent to do a task for what he'd done. The fight was over, and neither of them had even gotten hurt.
He felt a twinge of pain on his head. Much. He hadn't gotten hurt much.
Something about me? He thought that perhaps there was something about Arthur.
Galen wouldn't care either way. The elder made his way to Morgan and said nothing, turning back and heading to the main building. Morgan followed, only pausing to pick up his jacket.
Past the nurse's office was an entirely different man.
"How could you be so foolish," Galen yelled, slamming the door to his study.
"He needed to be taught a lesson." Morgan didn't look at him, feeling like a teenager going through his rebellious years. He was rather new to that, as his teenage years had gone smoothly for his mother. Not for him, of course.
"Magic must be studied, mastered, and used for good," Galen scolded, "Not for idiotic pranks!"
"Master what?" Morgan turned, looking at his mentor with disbelief. "I could move objects like that before I could talk!"
"Then you should know to control yourself," he remarked. Morgan knew that, but he was furious. He hadn't wanted a fight, and he was rather tired of being blamed for his magic.
"I don't want to control myself! If I can't use magic, then what have I got?" He regretted shouting almost instantly, but not his words. He continued more calmly, swallowing to get rid of the ball that had suddenly formed in his throat.
"I'm just a nobody, and I always will be. If I can't use magic," he paused, "I might as well be dead.."
He walked around Galen and exited the study. It was dark out now, and the main building was emptying. He locked the door to the nurse's office and sat on the borrowed bed, praying that Galen wouldn't walk in on him brooding.
He pressed his face against the pillow, just in case Galen did.
And he fell asleep. It had been a long day, after all.
It felt like only a minute had passed when he woke again.
Galen was at the door. Morgan felt awkward, but he nodded a greeting anyway, wincing when his head throbbed. Maybe Arthur had hurt him a bit more that he'd thought.
Galen seemed to have noticed. "Are you hurt?" he asked, stepping forward.
"Just a headache," Morgan said.
It was quiet, and Morgan couldn't bring himself to look at Galen for more than a second.
"I'll get you some aspirin," the doctor said when the silence became unbearable, even to Morgan.
"You don't know why I was born like this, do you?" he asked quickly when Galen had turned around to open his study door. The physician looked back to him.
"No," Galen answered truthfully.
"I'm...not a monster, am I?" He smiled at the word monster, as if the word didn't bother him.
Galen looked at him seriously, enunciating each word precisely, "Don't ever think that."
"Then why am I like this?" Morgan asked in a desperate voice. "Please, I need to know."
Galen looked at him sadly, and Morgan knew he didn't have the answer. "Maybe," the doctor began carefully, "there's someone with more knowledge than me."
"If you can't tell me, no one can," he said, looking away from his mentor. It was another moment before Galen left to retrieve the medicine.
When he came back with a glass of water and two pills, all he said was, "Get some sleep." Two slightly comforting pats on the knees later and he was gone again.
Morgan wondered if he could sleep forever.
"Say," Morgan began the next morning during breakfast. He and Galen had kept quiet of last night's events, but the silence had been bothering him for the longest time. "When will I move to the dorms?"
Galen seemed slightly surprised by the question. "Do you still want to? You would be rooming with Arthur Pendragon, remember?"
Morgan frowned at the director's son's name. "Yeah, I remember. Can't be helped, can it?"
"A couple of rooms have opened up," Galen offered. "Student's are usually not allowed to have their own room if possible, but I thought I could ask Luther to make an exception."
Morgan flustered at the thought. "But, I wouldn't want to impose! It's fine, I swear, you don't have to do all that for me."
"Arthur would have you down before you could say 'black belt', Morgan. Maybe if you were willing to stop this childish squabble you'd find yourself getting along, and I wouldn't find myself having to go through these impositions."
Morgan flushed, pouting slightly. "I'm a bit insulted that you would think that of me. And believe me, if we do continue our rivalry," he emphasized the word, he was not childish, "I assure you he'd be the one to get hurt."
"We don't need either of you getting hurt," Galen scolded quickly.
Morgan sighed. "Fine, I'll try to get along with him. Don't expect any promises -he's an ass." When this didn't seem to faze Galen he sighed again. "Don't worry Galen. You don't need to call in any more favors," he said, sincerely this time.
"I hope not," the doctor said, though he didn't look hopeful. He did, however, change the subject. "Today I've got a home remedy for you to deliver."
"Home remedy? I thought you only did pills and prescription," Morgan said.
"Some students prefer my family's concoctions," Galen explained. "They say it suits their taste more, and they seem to be more effective than any regular medicine this century has to offer."
"They must be old recipes," Morgan mused.
"They are. I'm not sure how old, but it's all been passed down through my family for many generations. Some of the remedies have been lost through translation, some herbs have names that don't make sense anymore, but many have a nice effect."
"So everyone in your family's a physician?"
"Of course not, don't be so foolish. They're just home remedies. They're certainly helpful when a student doesn't see the appeal to science and medicine, though."
Morgan nodded. "Will I have to learn them as well?" he asked.
"I hope you will," Galen answered. He stood up, having finished his food, and headed to a door leading to his lab. Morgan had yet to enter that door, but he had wondered if it looked like a really futuristic lab or if the name only glorified what was just a room and a table.
Now, he thought the latter was probably more likely.
However, he'd seen the health centre, and it had looked pretty alright. It looked just like a real hospital room, with a dozen beds hidden behind curtains, IVs, and cabinets with emergency medicines, tools and the like.
Luckily, Morgan wasn't one to be fazed by the sight of blood, so he hoped he'd be useful in case a serious injury had to be treated.
Galen returned with a small bottle stuffed into a pouch. It definitely looked like a home remedy.
He also handed him a note. "You'll need this to show Miss Percival. Otherwise, I doubt she'd let you past the first floor of the dorm." Morgan could see the logic there. Miss Percival's jeering face was more than enough to drive him out of the dorm last time he'd delivered her medicine.
"So it's a student? You do personal requests, Galen?"
"I try to help out wherever I can. She is a special case, though. Her name is Morgan, funnily enough. Morgan Pendragon."
Morgan's face twisted into a grimace, which seemed to amused Galen to no end.
"I assure you, she's much nicer that her adopted brother," he remarked.
"So even you think he's a jerk. Wait, she's adopted?"
"Yes," Galen said, but didn't provide any details. He told him the floor and the room number.
"So you used to go on all these errands yourself? Why not just have them come to you?" asked Morgan, scratching his head and pocketing the pouched bottle.
"My last assistant graduated."
"Aha," Morgan exclaimed. "So you needed help! I knew you couldn't be so kind."
"Mind you," Galen glared, "he was unpaid, and very quiet."
"You love me already, I can tell."
"Go give Miss Morgan her medicine. She deserves a good night's rest," Galen ordered, leaving him to head back to the lab, not bothering to correct the last remark.
Morgan nodded anyway, finishing the last of his own breakfast. He gathered his dishes as well as Galen's and washed them before leaving. He was not a total brat, after all—Morgan grinned cheekily and exited the study through the health centre (as it had the exit closest to the girl's dorms).
He kind of wished he could live with Galen instead.
"Um," Morgan shrunk under the scrutiny of Miss Percival's eye, "Galen- I mean, Dr. Richard s-sent me to deliver a," when he couldn't come up with the words, he gave her the note and showed her the bottle.
She studied the piece of paper carefully, eyeing the pouch. She seemed to recognize it and finally nodded. "You may pass. Send Miss Pendragon my regards," she added as he walked past her hurriedly.
"Sure thing, ma'am!" He thought it was a bit odd that she'd requested a greeting rather than ordering him to leave as soon as possible, but maybe Miss Percival didn't absolutely hate him after all.
Morgan Pendragon—he still shuddered at the thought of sharing a last name with Arthur—shared a room in the third floor. This meant Morgan was given the chance to walk through a girl's dorm for another two floors. He should have been a bit happy, as a man walking among girls, but he felt more embarrassed by the constant staring
He didn't dare look anybody in the eye.
He finally reached his destination, and was about to knock when the door opened itself. Morgan found himself face to face with a beautiful woman, with long black hair and striking green eyes.
Morgan stuttered nonsense.
She smiled at him, though she was probably confused by the fact a bloke was standing in front of her dorm, despite the fact that they were strictly forbidden.
"May I help you with anything," she finally asked.
Morgan was quick to recover once words were in use, so he opened his mouth and took out the pouched bottle. "I- Yes. I mean no. Er, Gal- Dr. Richard sent me to deliver this to...Morgan Pendragon?" He looked at her again, in a different light. "Are you Morgan P-Pendragon?"
"I guess," she said dubiously, still holding a smile. "I suppose you're Galen's new assistant? Nice to meet you..."
Seeing as she was close enough to refer to Galen by his first name, Morgan figured he could afford to be cheeky. "Morgan Colin, at you service," he answered, bowing ostentatiously.
"Morgan?" Both individuals looked to the side, where one Miss Gwendolyn Smith stood in her pyjamas. "What are you doing in the girl's dorm?"
"Hello, milady," Morgan figured he may as well bow to her as well. She blushed, but smiled.
"Do you know him, Gwen?"
"Oh, yes. He's, um, that boy. I didn't mean to talk behind your back," she explained to Morgan—the male one, "but I just had to tell her. He's the one your brother beat up. Not that he actually beat you up! You were only-"
"He beat me up," Morgan allowed, hoping to soothe the girl's sheepishness. It worked, slightly.
"That was you?" For a second, Morgan thought she might be angry. "That's fabulous! I must say, you are my hero," she set down the pouch on a nearby counter and took his hands. "Arthur deserved to be called an ass to the face ages ago."
Morgan stared in shock for a second, but soon enough broke out in laughter. "Thank God someone agrees. Galen doesn't condone my methods, but at least you two get it."
"It would have probably worked better if you'd managed to hit him," Gwen said, but quickly added, "not for lack of trying. Not that I'm insinuating that you're-"
"He doesn't really look like the type to get in a fight," Morgan (the lady, of course) interrupted her anguish.
"So I've been told." Gwen flushed, but the other two smiled at her.
Morgan looked around, suddenly remembering he wasn't here to make friends. He was sure Galen had a certain lack of milk, and he'd wanted to buy some before the elder notice it himself. After all, he was here for Galen's convenience.
"I've got to go. It was nice meeting you Morgan. See you later, Gwen."
He left the two girls waving, and by the time he'd turned to the stairs, they were no longer in the hall. However, many other women were looking at the one man in their dorm.
He blushed again, and scuttered out of the dorm as quickly as he could. Once outside, he smiled at the sky. He'd just made another friend, he realized. He was definitely telling Will later.
It was only after he had paid for two pints of whole milk later that day that he realized he never gave Morgan Miss Percival's regards.
"You got into a fight on your second day there?"
"Shout it to the whole world, why don't you?" Will made a face at Morgan, which was reciprocated quickly. "Don't tell my mum, okay."
"Why would I tell her?" Morgan sagged with relief. "Although," Will continued, and his eyes gained a mischievous glint, which was visible even from the low quality camera of his laptop, "didn't she say she would drag you back to Ealdor herself if you ever caused trouble?"
"Will!"
"I'm joking, Morgan. So, aside from two beautiful girls and a miserable roommate—How's life treating you?"
Morgan knew talking to Will would brighten his day. They conversed through the night, and Morgan almost felt at home in the dark nurse's office, on the white bed, without the sound of crickets or cicadas or owls. It wasn't Ealdor, alright, but it certainly wasn't terrible.
He didn't mention his fears of being "targeted" by Luther Pendragon, doubting Will would actually keep that hidden from his mother, but he did mention the strange voice he'd heard in the dungeons that first day in Camelot.
"'Merlin'," Will repeated. Morgan was compelled to respond, though he didn't know why or how. He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. He was suddenly feeling distinctly sad, accounting it to his homesickness.
"Do you think she meant the Merlin?"
Morgan rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt that, Will. That's only a legend."
"Yes," Will allowed, "but, it's also a legend of magic. I used to think magic was nothing but a prop used in fairy tales until I saw you take down a tree with a look! Morgan, you wouldn't believe how much of Merlin I researched my junior year! He was famous for being the most powerful warlock to have ever been. There's so many things that could have happened and I didn't really believe half of them, but then you tell me there are magical creatures as well? You've got to see some logic in all these legends."
"I don't know... Maybe it was just talking about the bird. Although...now that I think about it, Galen did mention...a King in a time of magic. Uther. But that man was a total jerk! He banished magic, why would Merlin help him?"
"But you forget, Morgan," Will seemed to get excited by the name, "Merlin helped King Arthur become great. Arthur...was Uther's son."
"Really? I thought the names had just...I don't know, gotten messed up."
"You really need to read some of these legends, Morgan. I didn't know Uther had banished magic, though! Can you ask Dr. Richard about more of magic history?"
"You're terribly excited. Didn't you almost fail your history class?" Will scowled miserably, so Morgan let it go, "You know, I still haven't figured out why I heard a woman whisper 'Merlin' while I was trapped in a dungeon."
"Dungeon," Will scoffed, "You said some sound came out of you, right? Like a growl? Maybe it was like that thing in Harry Potter?"
"You think I'm speaking to a snake? You're really off your rocker, Will."
"Hey, I'm not the one hearing voices in my head." He paused, and bit his cheek. "Did you try answering her?"
Morgan tried to think, looking back before Galen had slammed the door to his cell.
"I think- I think I did," he was surprised by the memory.
"Well," Will encouraged him, "What did you say?"
"What I said. What I meant to say... I...called her 'Aithusa'." The name hissed its way out of his mouth. Morgan quickly brought his hands up to his lips, covering his mouth when a tremor struck his body.
Merlin! Merlin!
"Morgan? What's up? Did something happen?" Will was freaking out on the computer, yet all Morgan could do was search for a nearby window. Of course, the nurse's office was bare of any.
Her ramblings continued, though he could make little sense of them as he began to speak to Will again. "I'm hearing her again!"
"Are you serious? What ar—"
"I've got to go."
"Wait! Morgan, don't—"
Morgan closed the laptop, not bothering to turn off the browser, and jumped out of bed.
Merlin. Please...meet me...
He would. He would meet her tonight.
Morgan brought the back of his hand to his eyes, wiping them of the sudden wetness that had blurred his sight. When had he started to cry? Why?
I know where you are, the voice continued. Come out. Please.
He couldn't go out through the nurse's office—the door to the main entrance was locked. There was no window to escape from. He bit his lip, weighing his options. Or therefore, lack of.
Finally, he rasped out a sigh and hurried to the door to Galen's study. His only way out was through the health centre, open 24 hours.
The door opened silently, thank God. Once inside the study, his focus was solely on the physician's snoring figure. The door to the health centre was closest to the bed, as it was prioritized in case of emergencies.
He closed the door, very quietly. Very, very quietly.
Click.
It was closed. Immediately, he scurried to the other door, crossing the room swiftly—
BANG!
Morgan's eyes widened, and he looked at Galen's figure, not taking another step. There was no sound in the room. Galen had stopped snoring.
But soon, the elder grunted and turned his back, letting Morgan's shoulders relax. He sighed quietly, and continued his way out the study.
He gave his mentor one last glance and paused. It took him less than a second for him to flash his eye and cover the doctor in his blanket again.
Smiling at a job well done, Morgan continued his way out the door, through the health centre, and into the outside world.
Now that he'd calmed down sufficiently to realize this was actually a very stupid idea, Morgan poked at the voice in his head. Aithusa?
…
The woods, responded her voice.
That was quite a dangerous location. Don't go, said the little wise Will in his mind. But something deeper inside of him wanted to go. It was so anxious to go, Morgan almost thought he'd start crying again.
And so he went.
The woods next to Camelot University were surprisingly devoid of supervision. There were no guards, nor any teachers doing any routine look-outs. Security was nonexistent there.
It was slightly liberating.
He knew students weren't allowed outside the campus after a certain time, and it was most likely past midnight by now. He couldn't have cared less as he was running deeper and deeper into the woods.
Running.
Running.
How much further was Aithusa? Had he missed her along the way? How deep were these woods? He recalled a map his mother had shown him back in Ealdor. The wooded area had seemed small back them, even when compared to the campus of the university—despite it being much bigger than the uni.
He eventually tired, slowing down to a desperate jog, and soon enough a miserable walk. He panted, halting completely.
What am I doing, he thought. I'm hearing voices in my head. I should be questioning my sanity, not following them into the woods.
He looked around, finding himself surrounded by shadows and twisted shapes. Scary as it should have been, he could only feel exhaustion and desperation.
He really had wanted to meet Aithusa.
Aithusa, he called.
Merlin, she sounded ecstatic. You're close!
How can I trust you?
…Trust me?
Yes.
She now sounded desperate herself. You don't need to trust me! You're my kin, my dragonlord! Why do you ask that, Merlin?
"Why are you calling me Merlin!?" He thought he'd simply asked, but the words came out loudly, terrifying and full of a cognition he did not think he understood.
"Merlin! I found you," she said.
Morgan froze. That had not been in his mind.
He took a deep breath, calming himself down. The voice was loud, but cunning and gentle. It was fit to tell a story, and it was fit to spark fear into a man's very soul. It could have growled and still sounded distinctly feminine, he realized.
Behind him was Aithusa. Behind him was no human.
He closed his eyes tightly, feeling heavy as he turned to face whatever he would face.
"It is you, Merlin," she seemed relieved.
"My name is Morgan." It sounded human, and he wondered if she understood. He kept his eyes closed.
"Morgan? In...remembrance of...Morgana?" she asked, sounding pained by the question.
Oh, God, wasn't that also a character from Will's stupid Merlin legends?
"No," he opened his eyes, "As in the name my mother gave me at b-b-" Before him, he realized, was a large white dragon.
And that is where "Beginning" is left off. I already have a bit of "Dorm Life" written out, and I kind of want to limit this to five chapters: Beginning, Dorm Life, Middle, End, and Back Again. You know, to be cool or something. I think I could do it...
No beta, I'm out, see ya