A/N: Well, I've never written anything for Merlin before, so we'll just see how this turns out O.O

"Earth to Chloe!" I glanced up from my sketchbook to see Emma Greene frantically waving at me. Emma was an alright girl, she wasn't exactly my friend, but she was nice enough. I smiled at her, pulling the earbuds from my ears and saying a silent farewell to Anthony Kiedis.

"Emma, what's up?"

She huffed and puffed as she stopped in front of me. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Why?"

"Doctor Badgley wants to meet with you. Told me so at the end of class."

I felt my brows scrunch together in confusion. Doctor Badgley was a mean, old professor of art history. Not to mention he hated me. Hated me. Like, if we lived in another era, he would have killed me and burned my house to the ground hated me. "Are you sure? Because that guy hates me."

"Chloe Sinclair, I did not just walk the entirety of Oxford for you to not meet with that old bastard. Get your lazy ass off that grass and go already."

"Okay, okay. Geeze, Emma, someone's got their bitchy pants on today." I packed up my pencils and sketchbook quickly, making a point to walk hurriedly past Emma. I was in my last year of college at NYU and had decided to spend my summer abroad at Oxford University. So far, the best part was the local pub, not that I had told my parents that.

I was an art major, that in itself had irritated my father. "Why don't you do something useful? Business or something?" He had scoffed when I told him what I wanted to do. While I had always been good at art, neither of them had ever considered it a viable career option. Of course it didn't help I had been arrested multiple times during high school for public defamation of property.

But I saw the world as my own personal canvas. And the overwhelming desire to express myself through art was completely foreign to them. It had taken all my self control to not put my 'Resistance' stencil somewhere on one of the old buildings on Oxford's campus. I had the stereotypical rebel spirit associated with artists and it hadn't done me any favors.

When I came home with my nose pierced my first semester, I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack. She had made me swear to not get any tattoos, so of course as soon as I got back to New York I got four. When I wasn't in class or tagging buildings, I worked in a local coffee shop. It gave me plenty of connections and what artist didn't like coffee? There were always cool, local bands and I had one musician I like in particular.

His name was Ryan Wilcox and he was gorgeous. His music was the closest thing to modern day Shakespeare I'd ever heard. And he was obscenely good looking. We'd exchanged numbers and flirtations quite a bit but nothing had ever come from it. But a girl could dream, right?

I stopped at Doctor Badgley's office and rapped on the ancient wooden door. He motioned me inside and I stood in front of him awkwardly, waiting for the shouting to begin. "Miss Sinclair, have a seat."

My confusion betrayed me as I sat in the chair. I picked at my already chipping nail polish with anxiety. "I'm sure you're wondering why I requested to meet with you."

"Just a little bit, yeah."

"The fact remains, as much as I dislike your attitude and appearance," Well, at least he was honest. "That you have the most extensive knowledge of art history out of your fellow students. I'm attending a conference in Cardiff next week and am in need of an assistant. I was rather hoping you would accompany me."

This was a joke, right? There was no way this guy could possibly be serious. "I'm sorry?"

"As you well know, I specialize in medieval art. Given your own penchant for the era, I cannot think, to my dismay, of someone more suited. So, will you come?"

While it was true that I dug the whole medieval era, it even influenced my own work, I wasn't sure I wanted to go on a road trip with my least favorite professor. "I don't know, Doctor Badgley-"

"Perhaps I should give you some motivation, hmm? If you agree to accompany me, consider your class with me finished."

"Finished?"

"I will ensure you receive a grade proportional to your assistance at the conference and you will not have to enter this room again and I will not have to tolerate your insufferable behavior anymore." He made it sound like I disrupted the class. Apparently, finishing the exams in five minutes was 'insufferable behavior'. Well, that and I was always late.

"I really won't have to come back?"

"No. Of course, you'll have to take that bloody thing out of your nose." His lips curled with disgust and I tapped my nose ring with my finger.

It was the best news I'd had all day, even if it meant I'd have to go without my nose ring for a few days. "How long is this conference?"

He scowled. "One week."

One week? That might be difficult. Still, if it meant never having to see the jerk again, I could live with that. "You've got yourself a deal, professor." I extended my hand forward and he took mine in his own.

"I'll see you at eight Monday morning. Oxford Station." I was halfway out the door when he called out, "Eight a.m. sharp, Miss Sinclair! Don't be late!"

I waved to him in dismissal, not bothering to look at him. Just one week. I could survive one week.