Camelot Needs A Bridge

by ansera

Arthur Pendragon's life is changed when he befriends the new geek in school. Written for reel merlin on LJ, with the prompt Bridge To Terabithia. Merlin/Arthur.

READ IT HERE: http:// ansera. livejournal. com/15514. html#cutid1 except without the spaces. Leave the reviews there too, as well, for me to answer to. I allow anonymous posting, but you can leave your username if you want to. (:

-|-

Arthur listened to the pounding of his shoes against the ground, a constant glide, a brush against the gravel in the half a second he placed it down before his body was moving for the next step. He heard his breathing, saw it in the puffs of white air, not that it was winter, but merely cold at dawn. He heard the birds flying, flaps of wings not making a beat to complement his own, but combining itself naturally anyway. He heard the leaves rustling, falling from the trees not because of a turn of season but rather because of the weather.

The sun was too bright, too hot.

He saw the metal sign and turned sharply, running back towards his house. He spared a glance for his watch, 8 at least, which was all that really mattered. He quickened his pace, feeling the grass crushing under his feet as the house came into view.

Always house, never home. It was larger than most of the other houses in the vicinity, all if he was honest. The only neighbour who even came close was Bayard, who Arthur couldn't even consider a neighbour since he lived at least three miles away. Arthur had never liked Bayard, never trusted him. After all, no sane man would name his house –even if it was large enough to house several others— and Mercia was a ridiculous name. Arthur made a turn, running through long weeds that made a field that stretched never endingly about the house, hands not reaching up to brush them away from his hands as he had in the past.

He side- stepped around the pile of mud, and Arthur had given up trying to figure out how come it never dried out in the sun, just stayed in the same state as far as he could remember. He hopped slightly over the concaved ground, and then slowed to a walk. The house was only minutes away, and Arthur stopped in the middle of his tracks to catch his breath.

Breathe in; breathe out; unconcerned; rich.

He opened his eyes and walked calmly towards the door, not even raising his hand to open the door when Gaius opened it on the other side. He nodded at the man as he walked past, the only form of respect he was due to grant a servant who had been like a father to him.

"Arthur," Gaius started in his low voice, "Your father would like you to meet him in his office." Arthur nodded absent-mindedly and walked on. "Now," Gaius said, and Arthur rolled his eyes and climbed the stairs. Seventeen, he had read, was the age for normal children to be rebellious. Therefore, he did the same, and acted as disobediently as he dared with a Father like his own, as rudely as possible with a child in the family –he still held the view that young children be protected, not gallivanting off in tiny skirts or oversized trousers as they were fond of today. If Mordred ever acted like them, he shuddered internally at the thought.

His Father's office had a larger door than the rest of the rooms, even though it wasn't actually the largest in the house. Arthur wondered if it was some type of a dominating, alpha male related action, or just his father. His knuckles hit the door twice firmly, his Father had once told him that even a knock could tell you a lot about a man. He'd been four then, hardly able to reach the door handle, much less actually knock.

"Come in." He entered the room. It had been designed to send the impression that he was rich, although everyone who knew his family could hardly fail to notice that fact. Created to impress, maybe to strike fear. "Arthur," his Father was sitting behind his table, papers scattered across his table in a haphazard manner only he had been able to understand.

Arthur gave a slight smile. "Father, Gaius said you called."

"Yes," his Father looked over steeped fingers. "You begin lessons today at school." Arthur's face tightened at the reminder, muscles tensing, but otherwise, he gave no visible reaction. His Father noticed though. "You must learn to mingle," he said the word as though it were foreign, "with the public."

"Of course, Father," he said without emotion.

"I expect you to make a name for yourself, understood?" He did not wait for an answer. "You will live up to the Pendragon name, and you will not disgrace this family in any manner." Arthur nodded, and his Father studied him for a few more seconds –Arthur felt like he was being weighed, like one of those Egyptian scales with his heart on one side and a feather on the other, then his Father nodded, and he knew his heart was lighter.

He nodded once more before turning to walk out. His hand moved towards the door handle, but his Father's voice stopped him. "Arthur," he half-turned. "Good luck." He did not allow his surprise to show on his face, but it took effort.

"Thank you." And he walked out.

He almost crashed into Mordred, who had his ear pressed against the door. "Mordred," he grabbed the boy roughly by his arm and pulled him into the nearest room. "What were you thinking?" his anger was evident, but his voice still a whisper. "Do you realise what would happen if Father caught you?"

Mordred stared at him with unblinking eyes. Then the nine year old shrugged and grinned. "Just wanted to see what was going on, no one tells me anything." His voice was petulant, and Arthur had to fight the urge to grin, Mordred reminded him of himself at that age. Annoying, insistent, whining.

"Yeah well, you'll be seeing me in school anyway."

Mordred shook his head, "It won't be the same, Arthur. Gosh, do I have to tell you everything?" He grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled, and Arthur kneeled so that he would be the same height as his youngest brother. "We'll be in different classes," he said solemnly. "We can't see each other except for break times. So don't make a fool of yourself trying to find me." Mordred smiled at him kindly, "Don't worry too much, you'll still be my bestest brother."

Arthur schooled his expression into one of sombre unhappiness. "And bestest friend, Mordy," he used the nickname lightly, and Mordred giggled happily.

"Come on," he pulled Arthur out of the room and down the stairs. Gaius saw them both, and if it were anyone else Arthur might have tried to make it look like his youngest brother hadn't overpowered him. "You're never going to guess what happened today."

"Gossiping is a horrid trait," Arthur commented, and the boy turned to glance at him, sending a small smirk.

"So is listening to gossip, but you do it all the time." He turned back, "Anyway, I was in the middle of the garden, and all of a sudden I could hear Owain and Ewan in their rooms," he said, ducking behind bushes and making a few sharp, and if Arthur was right, practiced turns.

"You sure you found this 'all of a sudden'?" Arthur raised a brow as Mordred continued through the maze of bushes with ease.

Mordred frowned. "If you're trying to imply that I'd actually go looking for a way to listen to my two eldest brothers fight and bicker day and night and find out who's going where and when so that I can blackmail them into giving me use of their new computer," he stopped and turned. "You'd be right. Now, be quiet or you can't hear."

Arthur nodded and sat on the ground, paying no concern to his trousers becoming dirty since they would be cleaned soon, he didn't by whom, but it always had been so since he had been a child. Then, he heard a loud shout coming from his right and turned, pushing Mordred behind him instinctively.

"That's just Owain," Mordred whispered, pulling him down into a crouch.

"-none of your business where I want to put my books!"

"It is if they're in my room!" That would be Ewan.

"It's not my fault the bloody housekeepers can't figure out stuff like this, go take it up with them," Owain screamed, and Arthur wondered why there was a need for silence on their part since they were hardly being quiet about their arguments. Then he heard the sound of a door banging shut and a person rampaging through the room, Owain's he guessed. Mordred held a finger to his lip then mimed listening. Arthur obeyed, head carefully bent low. His elder brothers might have forgiven Mordred, if the younger boy used an appropriate mixture of crying and never-to-be-told information, which he probably would, but they wouldn't let Arthur off so easily. And no matter how much Owain and Ewan fought, there was no questioning that they still stuck up for each other.

Then he heard another door open, and he scooted closer to the window to hear Owain's whispers. "Out…gone… safe… no one… school kids…" He frowned; he couldn't understand any part of the conversation. Mordred seemed to have a more acute hearing sense though, probably practiced from years of spying on the various household members, besides Arthur of course, and his eyes widened.

"What?" Arthur whispered, nudging the boy.

"He has someone in there," Mordred answered dramatically, although he had the sense to keep quiet.

Arthur grinned, if Owain had a girlfriend in there, Father would have his head. Contraceptives or not, his father was not going to risk a paternity suit on any of his sons, especially not his eldest. There was the wet sound of kissing, the haggard sound of harsh breath, and Arthur covered Mordred's ears. The boy pulled his hands off with a roll of his eyes. "Oh, please, I know all about this stuff."

"No you don't," Arthur said firmly.

"Yes I do," Mordred glared at him.

"If you did," Arthur continued as though he hadn't been interrupted, "You wouldn't still be calling it 'stuff'."

Mordred glared harder, and Arthur realised just how much his younger brother took after himself and his Father in mannerisms, before turning his head away. "Just because I don't know rubbish technicalities doesn't mean I don't know what they're doing. A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet," it had the distinct air of a quotation. "Romeo and Juliet," he clarified, and Arthur nodded, although he still didn't understand.

Mordred let out an aggrieved sigh. "It's a wonder you're named after a King and still don't understand Shakespeare."

"Whatever," Arthur said, moving back towards the bushes on a slow crawl. "We should get back."

His brother hesitated, but since the kissing continued, and Arthur thanked whatever deity was looking down on him that Owain didn't step any further while Mordred was in hearing distance, he followed. "I'll come back later. All the fun stuff happens at night, anyway."

Arthur wisely refrained from commenting. But he'd make sure Owain closed his windows the next time someone 'visited' though. He didn't care what Mordred said, he would try to keep the boy innocent as far as possible, preferably for the next 16 years. Twenty-one was a respectable age to learn about worldly matters.

"Don't even think about it," Mordred said in front of him, not even bothering to turn back. "I expect to know what this 'stuff' is by the next school holidays."

"Not if I can help it," Arthur said.

"Arthur, it's not like you can bully everyone at school," he could hear the eye-roll. Mordred looked back for a second, and the look very carefully did not say you poor innocent boy who has yet to learn of the important things about life at such an old age and like whom I refuse to end up as because it's really quite pathetic not to even have a girlfriend at this stage in your life. It was a lot not to say in one look, and Arthur wondered if he should be insulted, but he had never won an argument with Mordred, no one in the house, excluding their Father, had. Not even Gaius.

"I can try."

"Well, don't bother. You'll only be made to look like a bigger prat than you are." Arthur spotted the white of Mordred's then and grinned himself, his youngest brother was the only one in the family to use an insult almost lovingly.

Mordred stood up, brushing his knees with his hands and walking back towards the house without waiting. "Hurry up, Arthur. You wouldn't want to be late for your first day of school right?" and the boy broke out into a run, and Arthur chased him.

"Arthur," he stopped abruptly at the voice.

Uther was standing at the top step, looking at him over wire glasses that his eye doctor had said was all the rage. "Yes, Father?"

"Go get ready for school," his Father instructed, and Arthur nodded, walking up the stairs to his room. He signalled behind his back, sensing Mordred's eyes on him, to stay. If his Father caught sight of his youngest brother in the state he was barely an hour before school, fury wouldn't start to describe the reaction. Clothes maketh the man, his father had told him when he was seven and wanted the Superman outfit with a cape over the normal old silk pyjamas, overused pieces of rubbish.

He stripped off his clothes, taking a moment to admire his form in the mirror, before pulling on the clothes laid on the bed for him, as they always were, always would be.

"Vanity," Mordred sighed from the doorway, bag already on his shoulders.

"And you aren't?" Arthur said, picking up his own and slinging it on.

"I control mine," Mordred walked down the stairs without waiting, not that Arthur had expected him to. "You flaunt it."

"I," Arthur said, following him, "am Arthur Pendragon. Expect nothing less."

"You know," Mordred turned to look at him curiously. "You really seem like a Prince sometimes."

"King," Arthur corrected. "I am named after King Arthur, not Prince Arthur."

"Don't know what Mum was thinking too, have enough ego without the name adding to it." Mordred skipped down the remaining steps, ignoring Arthur's cry of insult. "I cannot believe you're actually lowering yourself to take the bus." Mordred seemed amused, Arthur could understand the sentiment – he had only ever travelled in a chauffeured car.

"I can hardly believe it myself either," Arthur shook his head. "All my pride," he snapped his fingers, "Gone."

"Not just any King, a Drama King our Arthur is," Mordred said loudly, and Arthur decided to kindly overlook the smile that Gaius failed to hide, the man probably had some sort of twitching problem.

He pushed Mordred slightly, and the boy only moved forward as though anticipating the blow, climbing the steps of the yellow bus that had parked outside their house. They might have to take the bus, but it did not mean they had to work to take it. He paused before stepping in.

Breathe in; breathe out; calm; popular.

Mordred was already seated when he walked in, patting the empty seat next to him. Arthur walked past the offer, the flinch in his heart at the face he pulled was just his empty stomach, and moved a few rows back, people scampering out of the way for the most famous, or infamous depending on how it was looked at, boy in the neighbourhood. A girl at the last row, surrounded by friends who ceased their talk as soon as her attention turned to him, stared without concern, nodding once sharply.

Arthur returned the greeting. Morgana was the most feared in the area, next to Arthur, and it could only be beneficial to him to keep on her good side. It would help him 'mingle' with the public, as his Father put it, to be seen with Morgana.

Mordred climbed into the seat in front of him, paying no heed to the warning glares he first threw and its following sigh. "You know," he started. "I don't think this public school will be too bad."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, sure it's common and plebeian and not worth our attention, but it's not like everyone there's an imbecile." He poked Arthur. "So don't go making up your mind without even giving them a chance."

Arthur did not answer.

"I'm serious, Arthur. Edwina said that she heard Poppy say that Gaius said that Father said that the public are to be treated as friends." Arthur chose that moment to lean his head against the window and put in his earphones, effectively silencing his youngest brother. But, Mordred was not to be stopped so easily. The boy pulled at one of the wires and waited for Arthur to remove an earpiece before stating, "That's really rude." Then he moved back towards his original seat, striking up a conversation with the boy seated next to him.

Arthur listened to the song half-heartedly, his mind wandering. If Father was serious about their becoming one with the public or similar rubbish, then he'd actually have to make an effort. It was bad enough that he had a fencing competition against some cousins he met twice a year, and he had to catch up with the work they did in school in the slim chance that it differed from private tutoring, and now he had to make friends.

His head banged against the window as the bus pulled to a stop. Arthur's eyes snapped open to see throngs of students milling about the ground, sitting, walking, talking, laughing and smoking. From the familiarity the students shared, he guessed he was the only one who didn't join the school years ago.

"Arthur," he turned at the voice to see a pretty girl with dark skin. A friend of Morgana's was as far as he could place her. "The Principle asked me to guide the new student, which would be you, so, do you want to get off the bus now?" Her words were hesitant, as though she herself wasn't sure of her orders. But she had a friendly tone and a smile on her face, and an openness about her attitude such that Arthur wondered why she'd choose Morgana as a friend. He liked her.

He stood up quickly, and she actually stepped back, although Arthur got the feeling that she wasn't acting in fear. She walked towards the door, "You're in my class, so you're in Morgana's class as well, and we have about thirty students. First class today is Math, but be careful, Ms. Nimueh can be," she bit her lip, "cruel."

"Ms. Nimueh," Arthur repeated the name.

"Yeah. She looks a little older than us, although everyone thinks she's had surgery or something because she's too smart to be near our age, and all the guys love her, although I don't see why," she wrinkled her nose delicately. "It's so dumb, you should see them on Valentines Day; it's disgusting." She climbed the steps to the school, students making way, although for which one of them Arthur didn't know. "But, she's pretty fair a teacher, so you don't need to be afraid of unfairness. She hates cheaters though, rumor has it she once had the Head flog a student for cheating in a class test, it wasn't even an exam," she rambled on as she walked up steps. Arthur tried to memorise the route, he didn't succeed.

"So, if you're thinking of cheating in her class, don't. You shouldn't do it in Mr. Edwin's class either. He teaches science, almost as bad as Nimueh, but not as bad. He's not harsh, a softie under that face of his, poor guy, but the stud-"

"What's wrong with his face?" Arthur asked. She startled, and Arthur realised he didn't actually know her name. "And what's your name?"

"Gwen, Guinevere actually but everyone calls me Gwen," she smiled. "I know it's weird, right? But people got used to it through time so it wasn't too bad-"

Arthur frowned. "People teased you for your name?"

"What?" she looked confused for a second before her expression cleared into one of understanding. "Not me, Mr. Edwin. His face is scarred, the entire right portion, it frightened a few people in the beginning, but we got used to seeing it, and he's really a nice guy inside, so we don't really mind it anymore." Arthur could hardly nod in understanding before she continued. "But then we have Lancelot, he teaches PE. You can't not like him, I mean, he even lets us call him by his first name," she grinned.

She pushed open a door and entered a room, almost full with students.

"And you've made it to your first class," she said.

Arthur grinned at her and took a seat near the front. Sucking up to the teacher couldn't hurt. The bell rang and he winced at the sound, one more point to private tuition, there were no bells. A few students scrambled in, making their way to the back of the class.

He had been watching the door, or he would have missed it. The entrance. The woman threw the door open and practically glided in, all in one smooth movement that he wouldn't have caught if he'd blinked. Pale skin, dark eyes, dark hair, bright lipstick, skin-tight clothes, Arthur could see why the boys in the class had suddenly sat up straight and started to pay attention. Ms. Nimueh, in a word, was gorgeous.

"Good morning, class." There was a hard look in her eyes, though, one that Arthur recognised in his Father's from time to time.

"Today," she said, moving in front of her table. "We have new students joining us." She looked straight at him and smiled, "The first being someone we all know, Arthur Pendragon." Arthur smiled at her, too used to the whispers that broke out at his name to take much notice.

"The second," she looked around the class and frowned just as the door was pushed open, hitting the wall with a bang. A gangly pale boy stepped in, brown hair flying about his face, wearing dark trousers and a blue shirt that might have been more suited to a few hundred years ago.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "I didn't mean to be late, I swear. It's the bus that was late, really," he tripped over his words as he remained standing near the door.

"Make sure it doesn't happen again," Ms. Nimueh snapped, and the boy nodded fervently, although he didn't move. "Well?" Ms. Nimueh looked at him expectantly.

He startled, as though in a daze, and looked around. "Yeah," a hand rose to rub the back of his neck. "Where should I sit?"

"Wherever, but do it before the day ends." The boy blushed and moved to sit on the empty seat next to Arthur, offering him a grin that Arthur pointedly ignored. Whatever his Father said, this boy was an idiot and undeserving of his attention because of it. "As I was saying, our other new student just arrived, Merlin."

The boy, Merlin, smiled shakily, body sinking into the seat as the class turned to stare at him.

"Now, everybody open your books to page 97."

-|-

Arthur heard Mordred talking, something about a girl in his class kissing a boy and something that involved a lot of kicking and screaming, he didn't really understand it all, but it kept his younger brother entertained, so he wasn't particularly concerned. The bus had dropped them off a distance from his house, at Mordred's request – the boy wanted to fit in more, be more 'normal'. Arthur wondered how that was working out. Quite well; considering the mud splattered over his new uniform, the grass on his shoes and the mess that used to be, he thought, combed hair.

"And then Margy told Tom to get a life and she actually hit him!" Mordred threw his hands up. "Can you believe it, Arthur? Mr. Kanan wasn't happy at all, and he started screaming at them for the whole lesson, so I got to stare out of the window and do nothing for most of it. Except he caught me a teeny bit," he held up two fingers an inch away from each other, "before the bell rang and shouted at me, and he was really mean too, I think you should make Father talk to him, and then I got to escape at the end of it." Mordred finished the tale with a loud sigh, and Arthur nodded and grunted.

"So, I heard you have a new student in your class. Besides you, but you're hardly new since everyone knows you, even though they don't know you, but they've heard of you, and that's got to count for something, right?" Mordred looked at him expectantly and Arthur nodded again. Satisfied, Mordred continued, "Everyone was talking about him, no one knows where he came from. Peter was saying that he wasn't from town and Ed, that's his brother- remember? Although I think he's adopted since they don't look anything alike and brothers always look alike," Arthur refrained from mentioning that the two of them couldn't be more different, "And he said that this Merlin boy wasn't even heard of until today."

"I just moved," they both turned sharply at the voice.

It was Merlin. "Hello, I'm Merlin." He held out a hand, which Arthur ignored, but Mordred grabbed it and shook it firmly, although it looked absurd since Merlin had to bend a little for him to even shake it properly.

"I'm Mordred," Mordred introduced himself promptly. "And this is Arthur. You just came?"

"Yeah, two days back. I haven't been out of the house yet, what with all the packing." Merlin rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "Our old place wasn't big, but you wouldn't believe the amount of junk we've kept."

Mordred smiled, and Arthur guessed this Merlin was going to be Mordred's new best friend, at least until he found someone more interesting. "So, Merlin, where do you live?"

"Around here actually, next to one of those huge mansion places," Merlin gave a friendly grin and even Arthur had to smile at that face. "My Mum told me the people who live there are these awful snobs," he moved to walk next to Mordred. "My Uncle works as a butler in the house actually –he's the one who got us the house. It's their spare house, the owners' I mean, but my Uncle says that he talked to the head, apparently he's absolutely horrid with his strictness, but my Uncle's worked with him for loads of years, so we got the house."

"You live with your mother then?" Arthur asked, thinking of his own.

"Yeah, it's only the two of us, though." Merlin seemed extremely comfortable with the fact that his father was absent from his life, and Arthur felt a pang of envy that someone could be so easy with the loss of a parent. Then he felt annoyed at the envy, it was not a feeling Pendragons were supposed to become accustomed to; were supposed to feel at all

"That must be a hoot," Arthur smirked.

Merlin frowned. "It's not too bad, if that's what you mean, she's willing to let me do what I want, and I'm self-entertaining." Merlin then promptly tripped over his shoelaces and fell to the floor, hands coming up to protect himself on instinct, and Arthur got the feeling that he was used to falling and making a general fool of himself.

"Idiot," he said, not quite with cruelty, but Merlin only smiled and dusted himself off.

"That's what my friend used to say," and he paused, "Prat."

Mordred let out a laugh at the insult. "You insulted Arthur," he grinned wildly at Merlin. "You really are an idiot."

Merlin looked startled, taking a long look at Arthur, as though in consideration. "Any reason why? It's not like you own this place."

"Nope, but I'm the son of the man who does."

They stopped in front of the large gates that led to the entrance of their house, and neither boy was surprised when Gaius opened the gates before they even said a word.

"Good afternoon, Misters Pendragon, how was sch-" he cut off his question at the sight of Merlin. "Merlin! What are you doing here? I told you to come around by the back."

"Yeah, Gaius," he flushed and moved away. "Sorry about that." Arthur lifted a brow at the floundering and Merlin turned quickly and walked, "See you two in school," he disappeared behind the side of the house, and Arthur turned towards Gaius in wonder.

"He's related to you?" He saw no resemblance between the firm, orderly old man and the clumsy, messy boy.

"Unfortunately so," Gaius said dryly, gesturing for them to enter. "My sister's boy. We had planned for him to come here years ago, but his mother had to hold her job, and he had to finish enough school, so the plan was delayed."

"How come he's here now, Gaius?" Mordred asked, dropping his bag at the front door, Arthur following suit.

"His mother, my sister, has managed to finalise a spot in your father's company here, so they packed their bags and moved." Gaius ended with finality, and they realised it was the end of that conversation, and murmured words before walking up to Arthur's room. They usually stayed within Arthur's room, not that Mordred's was worse in any way, because they had the same size and layout –planned by his mother to prevent any claims of favouritism— but Arthur's was simply more lived in.

Arthur dropped into his bed and stared at the blue ceiling. Mordred struggled for a few moments before climbing on the chair, feet dangling in the air above the floor.

They let silence pass for a few moments, comfortable enough around each other not to need it filled with incessant chatter.

"I like him," Mordred announced to the room.

"Who?" As though there was a question.

"Merlin, prat," he snorted at the use of the word. It wasn't particularly offensive, but as far as Mordred could remember, commoners did not escape insulting his brother in any form. It was obviously not something he was about to let go anytime soon. "And you like him too."

"I don't," the words were said almost too quickly to be true.

"Yes you do," Mordred sing-songed, "And I don't blame you. He's nice. And funny."

"You met him for two minutes, Mordy, you can't make a decision already," Arthur drawled, too lazy to move or even add extra force into his tone.

"Yes I can. And I did. I am a Pendragon. I can do anything I want."

Arthur lifted his head to look at his brother. "Now where have I heard that?"

Mordred ignored the sarcasm in his voice. "Pendragon rules, brother dearest. Read them, eat them, breathe them." He inhaled deeply and Arthur grabbed a pillow and threw it at his general direction; from the squeal, it hit its target.

"You do realise that the idiot insulted us?"

He heard Mordred's lack of understanding at this distance. "He wouldn't have."

"We're the people in the big mansion place, we're the snobby ones, and our Father is the strict horrid one."

Mordred's mouth fell open. "He did, didn't he?" He sounded fairly upset about it.

"If it helps, I don't think he realised it was us he was talking about, I don't think he's that idiotic."

"Well, that makes things loads better," Mordred made a smug sound and Arthur heard feet fall against the ground, and a moment later, the right side of the bed sank. Mordred was looking down on him a second after that. "He's nice, right?"

It was a question that needed to be asked, but Arthur didn't know the answer.

"I'm not going to decide in two minutes," he said after thinking.

Mordred frowned, "Is that a no?"

"It's an 'I don't know' and I'm going to give him a chance to do something with himself," he shoved Mordred back by the shoulders, making sure he landed on the bed next to him. "He doesn't seem too bad, but remember Will?"

Mordred snorted. "Hard to forget, weird hair and weirder clothes."

"That's how you remember him? By his hair – I think he'd have been insulted." Arthur remembered the boy by the stalking. "He creeped me out." He wouldn't have said it in front of anyone but Mordred.

"Well, it wasn't his fault. If anyone, you should be blaming Fath-"

"Don't say it," Arthur interrupted his brother quickly. The boy needed to learn to keep his thoughts to himself. "Just don't."

"His father died. I think he had a right to be upset."

Arthur had heard that before. "Yeah, well, people die every day, no reason to go crazy."

"Just because people die all the time doesn't mean that it makes death any less…" Mordred paused. "Significant."

Arthur turned to look at his brother. "Are you sure you're only nine?"

Mordred grinned, "Just because I'm nine doesn't mean I have to think like one." Then he pulled himself into a cross-legged position. "So, wanna go play hide and seek now?"

-|-

He had never appreciated private tutoring. He had never actually thought that anything could be worse.

He had been proven wrong.

Arthur was walking home alone, today; Mordred had been invited to a birthday party of one of his classmates. He could only wonder what this friend had poured into his drink if he'd been that brainwashed within a week. Of course, the only thing that made it better was that it was a Friday, which meant he was finished with his first week at school. He only had the rest of the year left. Arthur groaned out loud.

"Something wrong?" He didn't even turn to the voice; there was only one person who lived in the area besides him and his brother. Merlin jogged to catch up to him, smiling the whole time.

"School," he shrugged.

"What's wrong with school?" Merlin asked innocently, and Arthur believed that he liked school for all of two seconds when Merlin cracked and smirked. "I know what you mean, I'm still a normal kid, you know. I thought Ms. Nimueh was hell today, you've got to pity Gwen."

Arthur wasn't too surprised he knew Gwen, practically everyone in the school seemed to. She was as popular as Morgana, but with the added factor of actually being nice. "Why?"

"Well, she helps Ms. Nimueh after class to teach the weaker kids, right? That's got to be hard. Ms. Nimueh is bad enough in the morning, in the afternoon," Merlin trailed off and shook his head. Arthur almost smiled, he knew what Merlin meant –Ms. Nimueh seemed to get worse as time went by.

"Well, she's Gwen, I think she calms everyone by just being there," Arthur said.

Merlin laughed, and Arthur thought he felt something, like a pinch in his heart, but ignored it. "Well, I can't disagree with that. Morgana shouts less when Gwen's around, do you realise?"

Arthur nodded and opened his mouth to answer when there was a crash in the trees next to them and they both turned, Arthur stepping forward, in front of Merlin, instinctively after years of training. "Who's there?" he called out, eyes flickering around the area.

"It's just me, Arthur," he heard Ewan say and relaxed.

"Who's that?" Merlin asked behind him, and Arthur wondered what was different when he realised that Merlin was talking quietly, whispering, and Arthur had never heard him use anything besides his normal loud voice.

"My brother, Ewan," Arthur said, and he spotted Owain coming out from behind a tree and continued, "And that's Owain."

"Hello," Owain grinned and shook Merlin's hand, he'd never been too particular about who his friends should be. "Owain Pendragon."

"Merlin," the boy said politely.

"Well, Merlin," Owain rolled the name around his tongue. "What'd you do to get stuck with Arthur? Must have been shit awful." He slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders just as Ewan came out. "And that is Ewan. As you can see, I am the best looking one in the family."

Merlin laughed, and, as though the ice had been broken, reverted to his usual, chipper self. "Really? I think Mordred's nice."

"Aah, my younger brother is a flatterer," Ewan said with a quick grin. "Don't be fooled, the boy's creepy smart."

"I got the feeling he wa-" Merlin started.

"So, you go to their school, right?" Owain asked affably.

"That must be hell," Ewan continued. "Can't imagine getting stuck with this arse for that long."

"I think I would die," Owain nodded seriously. "Honestly, all that nattering."

"It must be worse than that time during that winter," Ewan turned towards Owain, grimacing in reminiscence.

"Now that," Owain paused dramatically. "Would be the 10th Level of Hell right there."

"Two years back, those two just refused to shut up in the car, and in the plane, and in the hotel."

"And it wasn't even like they talked sense, just singing these Banjo songs that went over and over-"

"And over and over without an end, and not even in tune, it was like watching a drunk drag due-"

"Bugger off," Arthur said loudly, voice firm.

"Aww, is our little brother embarrassed?" Owain waggled his brows suggestively, and Arthur shot him a glare.

"Annoyed more like. What're you two doing in the woods anyway?"

"Nothing you," Ewan clapped Arthur on the shoulder, "my little brother, need to know. It's big boy stuff, give it a few years and ask again."

"About 20 should do," Owain said laughing, and Merlin laughed with him, and Arthur knew what the pinch in his gut this time was – frustration.

"Fuck off," he said, shoving Ewan, who reiterated with his own push. Arthur felt the arm grazing his shoulder and his leg lashed out in a kick before his mind could prevent it. Ewan defended himself easily, bringing out a clenched fist towards Arthur's face. He thought he heard a gasp and placed it as Merlin, but Owain only hooted in support.

Arthur swung his fist at Owain's face, his leg reaching out to kick his knees, and wasn't surprised when it was caught, Owain attempting to turn him around. But his leg hit its target and Owain stumbled for a precious second, and Arthur had his brother's hands caught in a tight hold. Owain twisted his body to break free and Arthur let go, the wrists turning too quickly for him to tighten his grip. He curled his body back as Owain tried to hit him and let his hand fly wildly to hit his brother.

When the hand came into contact with skin too smooth to be Owain's, he allowed his mind to clear enough to take in exactly who he was hitting, and winced at the ugly bruise forming on Merlin's face, near his chin.

"Idiot," he said exasperatedly, Owain looking at the boy with worry. "Why'd you step in?"

"But," Merlin looked at him then Owain, confused at their ceasing of the fight, "I thought you two were fighting."

"Owain and I hit each other all the time," he tilted Merlin's head upwards and angled it. "That's going to sting, but it'll fade away in a few days. You might want to put-"

"I know what to put on it, I've got myself injured enough for that, at least," Merlin batted away his hands. "But what do you mean you fight all the time? What sort of brothers are you people?" Merlin sounded mildly wary and appropriately shocked. Most people were when they realised the famed Pendragon sons weren't all they were cracked up to be. Although, he guessed that Merlin was more surprised about the 'fighting brothers' bit then the 'Pendragon' bit. The fool seemed to have no knowledge of the importance of the family name.

"Stop that," Arthur frowned at Merlin until he stopped moving. "Come on, we should have a first-aid kit back home." He noticed the look Owain and Ewan were exchanging and looked at them with a question, but Owain just shook his head.

"Honestly, Arthur, I'm just fine," Merlin said exasperatedly, patting the area gently. "See, it doesn't even hurt that much."

"Just shut up and come would you," he glared and Merlin rolled his eyes, but he nodded, and Arthur considered that a win. "Good, now walk." Merlin walked, and Arthur was two steps behind him. He turned towards his brothers, "What?"

"Nothing," Owain's comment did nothing to assure him, but there was nothing he could do, so he gave them one last suspicious look before joining Merlin. He swore he heard his eldest brother say something like "Old married couple", but couldn't be sure, so he gave it up.

"Honestly," Merlin was saying, "You should see me back at home. My Mum says she hasn't ever seen my un-hurt." Arthur frowned and Merlin grinned at him unrepentantly.

"Yes, well, you can't go walking around with a black eye without everyone thinking you the perfect kid to bully here."

Merlin shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "I got bullied in my old school, doesn't hurt too much."

"And your Mother didn't approach the school authorities?"

"They're not exactly the sort of people to sit down and talk with a woman," Merlin smiled without emotion, and Arthur almost flinched – the boy seemed too bloody happy to look anything but.

"Now you're here," Arthur stated.

"Yeah," Merlin let out a small laugh. "Now I am."

"People will think funny though, if you walk around with a bruise, especially after you're seen hanging around the Pendragon brothers, talk will start."

"Oh, so this is all an effort to protect your family name and nothing whatsoever to do with your concern for me?" Merlin asked teasingly, his eyes twinkling.

"Of course, what did you think?" Arthur ignored the small voice in his head that sang 'Liar'.

Merlin laughed, as though he knew that Arthur was lying –he couldn't, he was the best liar in the family, better than even Mordred—and half jogged towards the direction of the woods, his elder brothers long gone. "Where are you going?" Arthur called out to the quickly retreating back.

Merlin turned his head around. "To explore of course, don't tell me you've never been through this place before."

Arthur caught with him and shrugged, "Not exactly supposed to be in the woods."

"Rules were meant to be broken."

"If I had a penny for every time I heard that-"

"We'd all be very rich men." Merlin dropped his bag on the road. "Now, race you."

Arthur watched as the gangly figure moved forward, and hesitated for a moment, enough for the voices in his head to battle, before dropping his bag next to Merlin's, easily catching up with the less athletic boy. "Race me to where?"

Merlin tilted his head up as he laughed. "Everywhere, anywhere."

Arthur watched the boy with obvious amusement before nodding. "OK then, be prepared to lose."

"Keep dreaming, Pendragon," Merlin took off.

Arthur ran after him, allowing him to take the lead. He had never, in his entire life, ever just run. It was always because he had to, for his sports activities, or because he was late for something, or because he had to fetch something, or because someone asked him to in some absurd form of entertainment, or because Father made him do it every morning. Never ran like he did now, wind whipping through his hair, clothes pushing against his skin, muscles moving in perfect symphony. Merlin looked back once at him, delight exposed, and Arthur almost laughed – almost, because he was still a Pendragon, and running was bad enough without adding laughing to the mixture.

Merlin suddenly stopped, and Arthur felt his feet dig into the ground, and these were his new shoes too, so that they wouldn't crash.

"What?" he snapped. "Why'd you stop?"

Then he took time to look in front of him and his mouth snapped shut.

There was a large gap in the middle of the ground, as though someone had decided to tear the ground into two separate pieces, leaving jagged edges and patches of brown surrounded by the greenery of the forest. Merlin took a careful step forward, peering over the edge.

Arthur followed, making light steps on the ground.

It was water, as he had never seen before, powerful currents sweeping away the leaves and branches that dropped from the trees to it like prey straight to the predator's mouth. There were flashes of bright colour, not from the forest then, swept under the water, bright blue and white like no one could replicate in his art class at school, as though it was trying to hide evidence of its actions.

"Wow." Arthur figured Merlin's comment summed it all up.

He felt Merlin move away, but was still transfixed by the flowing water. It reminded him of his Father a little, powerful, removing every obstacle in its path with ease, merciless to everything that disturbed its flow.

The flash of red caught his eye and he turned towards Merlin.

His eyebrows rose in surprise – surely even he couldn't be that stupid.

"Are you really that stupid?"

Merlin rolled his eyes, hands grabbing the thick rope that hung from a tree branch. It was a firm thing that had probably been white at some point. "It's safe."

"Or so you think," Arthur snapped.

"Or so I know," Merlin shot back. "What are you, scared?"

Arthur froze in a glare. "Just because I actually care about my life since I know it's worth something, unlike yours."

"It won't break," Merlin said. "Plus, we'll only swing on to the other side. Not too far."

"Yes, wonderful idea, Merlin, because we'll only die if we fall," Arthur stressed the words, although Merlin was either not listening or couldn't care less, Arthur suspected it was the latter.

"Hmm, it's pretty firm, and the branch looks pretty sturdy," they both turned to look at the tree.

"Who do you think tied this here?"

Arthur shrugged. "No clue, the Pendragons have always lived here, so it had to be one of my ancestors, although I don't think any of them were ever that stupid, or one of the neighbours, and if they're anything like you than it's probably them."

Merlin tsk'ed, "Such doubt of my abilities."

"Duly noted and ignored, if you're going to kill yourself, then can you do it in a less obvious manner? Wouldn't want to have someone pin the blame on me."

"Oh sure the-"

They both turned at the same time.

"Arthur! Merlin!" the shouts were coming from a distance, but approaching them.

"Gaius," Merlin said.

"You think, genius?" Arthur said sarcastically. "He'll kill us, well, you, if he sees us even near this place. Or," Arthur shuddered, "He'll tell Father."

"Father?" Merlin looked at him. "That's what you call him?"

"What else are you supposed to call your father?"

"I don't know," Merlin shrugged, and Arthur winced at his mistake. "Dad or something I guess."

"Well, we say Father, now, can we get out of here," Arthur gestured to the general area – all strictly forbidden.

"Of course, Your Highness," Merlin mocked, bowing slightly before running.

Arthur allowed himself a moment to take a final look at the area before he followed.

-|-

Merlin was saying… something. Arthur lost him a while back when he was trying to use basketballs and hoops as an analogy for some complicated relationship in his class. He knows well enough when to nod appropriately and grunt or make some noise to convince Merlin that he's actually listening – he got enough experience from trying to listen to Mordred.

He had passed with Mordred. But he was a nine year old with the attention span of, well, a nine year old. And while Merlin wasn't too different in the 'thinking' parts, he had enough sense to know that if Arthur was nodding at "So I've been thinking about going to your place and painting your room pink and changing everything to look like something out of The Hills" he wasn't listening.

"Are you listening?" Merlin asked sharply.

Arthur grunted.

"You aren't listening," Merlin's voice grew louder.

Arthur nodded slowly.

"You're such a prat, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin frowned and quickened his pace, which finally got Arthur's attention because he looked at Merlin with clear eyes.

"Did you say something?"

Merlin opened his mouth as though to say something then closed it. He smiled. "Yes actually, thanks so much for allowing me Arthur, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he gushed, smirking inwardly as Arthur froze, frantically trying to retrace the conversation. "Honestly, most of my friends don't allow me, you'd be my first," he knew how it sounded, but he also knew how much it would agitate the worried blond in front of him. He paused for a few seconds to give Arthur time to consider and reconsider all the possibilities; the boy was almost paranoid, before smirking.

Arthur's face fell into one of relief before hardening.

"You idiot, I was worried."

"You also weren't listening," Merlin injected a small amount of hurt into his voice.

Arthur looked suitably apologetic, "Yes, but you talk far too much for me to listen to everything."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do."

"Arthur, I'm telling you, I don't."

"And as your honest and concerned friend I'm telling you that you talk far more than the average human being."

"Arthur…" Merlin sounded pleasant.

"Yes, Merlin?" Arthur smiled.

"Shut up."

"While I'm ahead-"

"For a change."

Arthur ignored the comment. "Never."

Merlin reached a hand out to swat the back of Arthur's head.

"Anyway," Merlin said. "I'm still coming over."

"Where?" Arthur said, frowning in slight confusion.

"Your house, of course, you only just invited me," Merlin said innocently. Arthur frowned harder.

"I don't remember inviting you…"

"Of course you don't," Merlin said airily, waving a hand in the air. "You weren't listening."

"So, I didn't invite you," Arthur said.

"Yes, you did, and nothing you say now is going to affect my decision," Merlin said firmly.

"But I didn't invite you," Arthur protested, not sure why, since he didn't mind Merlin visiting his house, but he was Arthur, and it was what he did.

"Too late," Merlin grinned, "And even if you didn't, your brother did."

"Which one?"

"Mordred, of course, I don't know your other brothers, except that one time, but you hit me so we hardly had time to get to know each other." Arthur felt himself turn a slight red at the casual mention of the incident; it was not one of his better moments. "Don't beat yourself up over it, I didn't mind one bit."

"You didn't mind getting hit by me?" Arthur asked disbelievingly.

"Well, I did, I guess, but not really, you know."

"No, actually, I don't know." Arthur looked at the pale boy, "You don't make much sense on a good day."

"Shut up," Merlin rolled his eyes. "And hurry up, Lancelot will be upset if we're late."

"No he won't, he's a softie, and he couldn't care less."

A voice sounded behind them, "I think I do."

They turned to see their teacher looking at them, an expression between amusement and anger on his face. Amusement won out at their guilty, apologetic on Arthur's part, glances and he chuckled. "At least you're not late."

"Sorry, Sir," Arthur mumbled.

Lancelot looked taken aback for a moment, a rare few ever saw an apologetic Pendragon, not that Lancelot had met a Pendragon besides him, before he tried to school his expression into one of nonchalance – he failed, but Arthur hadn't the heart to tell him. "Well, yes," Lancelot said uncomfortably. "Why don't you two boys go get ready for class, wouldn't want anyone to catch you'll in the hallway when you're not supposed to be here." He tilted his head towards the door to the gym before turning abruptly and walking away.

"Well," Merlin said slowly. "That was awkward."

"What do you think is wrong with him?"

"Might be the fact you actually said sorry," Merlin teased. "By gods, Uther Pendragon's son-"

"Not that, he seemed… uneasy, almost distressed." Arthur looked at the withdrawing back until it turned a corner and disappeared from his line of sight. "It's not like I knew him before this." He poked Merlin at the side, ignoring the girlish squeal instead of cracking a joke as he usually would, "Do you?"

"Know him?" Merlin edged away from Arthur, placing enough distance between them to avoid anymore poking. "Nope. And don't poke me, it hurts."

"Now that," Arthur said, "Is soft."

"I am not a softie, I just don't like people sticking any part of their anatomy at my body," Merlin said stuffily. Arthur allowed him two seconds before he raised a brow. Merlin promptly turned red, "Not like that," he said, obviously flustered.

"Come on, lover boy." Arthur walked towards the gym, knowing he would be followed.

"Don't call me that," Merlin objected.

"Lover boy, lover boy," Arthur said in a tune.

Merlin pouted. "Ar-thur."

-|-

"And this is my room," Arthur finished the tour, landing on his bed with a thump. He could picture Merlin's reaction; he had that same face when he saw every room in the house, so it wasn't so much a stretch of imagination on his part.

"Wow," the taller boy said in a slightly awe-struck voice. "This is your room?"

"Yep, where I sleep, study, work, walk, exercise, change… among other things," he said, voice making it obvious what the 'other things' were.

"Ew, Arthur," he could hear Merlin crinkling his nose. He heard steps and turned, leaning back on the headboard, to see Merlin moving around the room. He went towards the table, picking up random objects before placing them back. "What's this?" he held up a paperweight.

"A paperweight."

"I know that, but what is it?" The paperweight was supposed to be some form of abstract art by some European artist.

"Don't know," Arthur shrugged. "But it works, so does it really matter?"

"Of course it does," Merlin made it sound like he was insulted. He placed the object gently back on the desk before picking up a few pens. "Why do you have your name engraved in these?"

"Because they're mine, Merlin, whose name would you expect?"

"Most people just have a sticker to identify pens, not engrave their name on every single piece of stationary," Merlin commented. "And what are these?" he picked up the stack of papers that lay haphazardly on the table. They were covered with scribbles and doodles, all incredibly intricate ones. "Did you draw this Arthur?"

"Yep," Arthur's hand found a ball under the pillow, the bright red could only mean Mordred.

"These are really good."

"Yep," he threw the ball up and caught it.

"I mean really good."

"Yep," he threw it higher, smiling when he caught it.

"You don't care, do you?"

"Yep," the ball hit the high ceiling and landed in his hand.

He heard Merlin sigh and put the papers back down. He moved towards the large cabinet next to the table, opening the different drawers in almost child-like curiosity. "Nosy," Arthur murmured quietly under his breath.

"I'm naturally inquisitive." Not quiet enough, it seemed.

Merlin looked through the books that filled two boxes. "Why aren't these up there?" he pointed to the bookshelf.

"Because the shelf is already full, idiot."

"But those are all boring books," Merlin threw a glance at the thick tomes that would be collecting dust if not for whoever came in here to clean every week. "Why don't you replace them with these?" he held up the obviously read books with worn pages.

"Father," Arthur said simply.

Merlin put back the books and kneeled to look at the last two drawers. Arthur felt the ball coming down again when he realised what Merlin was about to look at. "Wait," he darted out of the bed.

The ball landed on the pillow and rolled off to the floor.

Merlin ignored the warning and opened the drawer. "Aww," he cooed. "Arthur, I wouldn't have placed you to keep these."

He held up a few dolls in each hand, army figurines with well-worn clothes from being excessively played by one Arthur Pendragon during his younger years.

"Careful," Arthur said, plucking them from Merlin's hand. "You might break them."

"Arthur, this one's already broken," Merlin held out a soldier with a missing arm.

Arthur snatched the doll, "He's supposed to be, he's a casualty of war."

Merlin laughed.

"And you call me soft? You're like the stereotypical rich boy secreting away his childhood memories until, bam," Merlin snapped his fingers, "They come back years later to destroy the life he has constructed." Merlin sounded positively tragic. "Pretty cool, huh?" The moment was lost.

Arthur hid his smile, placing the action figures, not dolls, carefully back into the box. "Go snoop somewhere else, shoo."

Merlin stood up and moved towards the wardrobe. "Not there, those are my clothes, you'll mess them up."

"Why do you have to assume that I'll mess it up?" Merlin frowned, deliberately opening the doors wide. He reached a hand out to take out a hanger and dropped it on the stack of clothes, which fell to the ground, knocking over the trays attached to the sides.

"That's why."

The door opened and Mordred entered, stopping at the scene. He smirked, "Gaius is going to kill you two." Then, a chipper, "Hello, Merlin!"

"Merlin?" a voice sounded from outside the door, and a head poked into the room. "Oh, hello, Merlin," Owain said with a smile. "It's good to see you; the bruise is clearing up nicely."

"Did someone say Merlin?" another voice. Owain was pushed into the room, followed closely by Ewan. "Merlin," the darker boy exclaimed. "So good to see you again my friend."

Both of Arthur's brothers only then took in the sight. "Oh boy, Gaius is going to kill you."

"That's exactly what I said," Mordred piped up, unnecessarily in Arthur's opinion.

"I mean it was bad enough with the mud you tracked in the other day," Owain said.

"Mhm, I've never seen anyone turn red so fast."

"Actually, there was this one Christmas he turned purple in a flat two seconds after I broke all the presents," Merlin sounded positively proud of it too.

"Really?" Mordred sounded envious. "Shortest he ever took with me was four seconds, after I made a mess of Owain's room."

"I knew it," Owain said, holding out a hand.

"Nice going Arthur," Ewan glared at him, pulling ten pounds from his pocket.

"You bet on who messed up his room?" Merlin said, surprised.

"Yeah, and I thought it was Arthur," Ewan said. "The job was so messy; Mordred would have never done it."

Mordred giggled. "I know, it was pretty good if I say so myself."

"Really, how'd you make Gaius not talk about it?" Owain asked. There was no question that Gaius knew, because the man knew about everything that happened in the house.

"Well, it was actually pretty simple," Mordred started. "All I had to do was take Father's business coat and infuse-"

"How'd you do that?" Ewan asked.

"Well, that was harder, I had to take a pair of Arthur's best trousers and soak it i-"

"How'd you do that?" Merlin asked.

"Possibly the hardest part of all, he has it under lock and key, I swe-"

Arthur's head fell against the cupboard as he groaned. Three brothers were enough without adding Merlin to the family.

-|-

Gwen, Arthur decided, was just like Merlin.

They both talked far too much.

The only difference, he found, was that Gwen tended to talk about girlish idiotic things whereas Merlin talked about boyish idiotic things. Neither was an improvement over the other, and both annoyed him immensely. "So, I was talking to Morgana about the new kids in my Spanish class and she was saying that we should get them to go to that new place near Fordson Street, you know that new shop that GF, the new magazine, said was totally in, so we could get them better clothes, and I said that we should let them wear what they want, individual and all that, and she agreed, so I didn't feel too bad when she pulled that stupid stunt the other day, you know, near the bus, everyone's heard about it-"

Arthur interrupted quickly, "Breath."

"What?" Gwen asked eyes wide.

"Breath."

"I am breathing," she frowned in confusion.

"No, you're talking, you can't do both."

Gwen snorted, "I'm Morgana's best friend; I can do a lot of things at the same time."

Arthur's brows rose. "Do you mean what I think you mean?"

"What do you mean?" Gwen smiled slyly.

"I think you know what I mean."

"I think that I don't mean what you think I mean."

"Meaning?"

Gwen let out a soft laugh. "You mean something entirely different."

"Do I?"

"Morgana is my friend," Gwen said firmly. "Nothing less-"

"Something more?"

"Nothing more," she said, shaking her head. "Perv."

"More like male."

Gwen hit him on the arm lightly.

"I'm being abused," Arthur held a hand to his arm dramatically.

"You are?" He saw Lancelot standing at the side.

"Very much so, Lancelot, Gwen is cruel when she wants to be." Gwen blushed deeply, head bowed slightly – Arthur never ceased to be shocked by the change in females when in seeing distance of someone they liked.

"Arthur," she said warningly; quietly enough for Lancelot to remain deaf to it.

Lancelot laughed. "I am sure Gwen is perfectly lovely to you, she is a lovely girl, after all," he smiled at her warmly, and Arthur considered the possibility there before discarding it. Lancelot was much too adhering to the rules to date a student, even one who was more than willing to be with him, like half of the students. Well, he hoped so anyway.

"Anyway," Lancelot continued. "You two have been working on your netball, I hope." They both nodded, although Arthur hadn't touched the ball yet. "The lesson is coming up and I would like to have at least a few people who can play."

"Well, then, we'd be your best students," Arthur smiled winningly, and Lancelot nodded to them before walking towards the gym.

Gwen waited before he was gone before she hit him on the head with her books. Hard.

"What was that for?"

"For making me look like an idiot."

"Well, you ar-"

"Say it and you'll be hit again." Arthur wisely kept silent. "Lancelot likes you, you know," she said, a smirk in her voice. "He liked you quite a bit."

Arthur froze. "What do you mean?"

"Just that he's nicer to you, talks to you more than the rest of us, he's like a friend to you and a teacher to us."

"He treats us all like friends," Arthur said quickly.

"No," Gwen said. "He treats you like a friend and us like a friend if we're around you and like students when you're not there."

Arthur broke away from Gwen without giving her a reason, ignoring her yells behind him. He headed towards the gym. It was the only place Lancelot could be found. The only place the man seemed to be right at home. He was throwing balls into the basketball hoop at the end of the gym, although he stopped when Arthur entered.

"Art-"

"I would appreciate equality." Arthur wasn't going to hide his anger.

"Excuse me?" Lancelot had the nerve to feign ignorance.

"I know I'm a Pendragon, but just because you're nice to me doesn't mean you're going to be getting the name or the money." Arthur stepped close to Lancelot, towering over the smaller man easily.

"Wha-"

Arthur's eyes flared. "Stop treating me differently from the rest of the students or I will complain to the Head, and being Pendragon has its perks, not that you could ever understand."

"Wait-"

"No, you wait. I came to this school so that I could be part of the crowd, not so I could be singled out at every turn, especially not by my teachers, so unless you want me to get you fired, you damn well straighten up your attitude, got it?" Arthur allowed himself to glare at the teacher for a few more moments before he turned away contemptuously.

"Arthur," Lancelot called behind him. "You must give me a chance to explain myself."

"I am a Pendragon," Arthur reminded him icily. "I don't have to do anything." He walked towards the doors and was about to exit when the shout rang through the room.

"But I only treated you nicely because of Owain!"

He froze again.

"Will you listen now?"

He turned. He folded his arms across his chest. He tapped his foot. "Talk."

"Owain asked me to be nice to you so that you wouldn't feel so… out of place. He does care a lot more than you think about you. He really wants you to be happy here," Lancelot smiled.

"You know Owain?"

Lancelot blinked. "Of course I know Owain, what sort of a man doesn't know his partner?"

His hands dropped. His foot stopped moving. "Partner? You mean work partner, right?"

"No, I mean partner in a relationship. Owain says boyfriend is an easier word, but it sounds so cheap I said. Then he said lover or soul mate or one of those funny words, but we decided on partner," Lancelot laughed at the memory.

"You're seeing Owain?"

"Yes, I would have thought he would tell you of all people, you seem more… understanding than your other brothers."

"You're seeing Owain."

"Yes, I am," Lancelot was extraordinarily patient.

"You're seeing Owain," Arthur felt his feet take uncertain steps back. "You're seeing Owain." The door was pushed open and he saw Lancelot frown, finally aware that Arthur was not reacting well. "You're seeing Owain." He was walking through an empty hallway. "Owain." He turned and quickened. "Lancelot." His feet quickened their pace. "Owain." He was running. "Together." He felt the school doors open under his persistent hands. "My brother." Students turned to stare at him, but they made way. "My teacher." The teachers around were shouting his name. "Partners." He recognised Merlin's voice following him, but he ignored it all. "Fuck."

Merlin caught up with him and snatched his wrist, pulling him around.

They were in the middle of the woods.

"Hey," Merlin was worried. "What's wrong?"

"They're together. Together."

And Arthur fell to his knees.

He wasn't sure why he was so shocked, or so overwhelmed, or so in fucking pieces that Merlin, of all people Merlin, had to piece him together. But he was anyway. The idea seemed so impossible, so far-off, so completely not Pendragon that it had never even entered his mind as a possibility. But it happened anyway, without his permission.

Arthur ignored the fact that he was glad it was Merlin.

-|-

"Coming?"

Merlin had been walking next to him after The Incident, as Arthur had dubbed it in his mind, and was not next to him anymore. His bag was on the floor, and he was standing next to the edge of the forest with a small smile on his face – not pitying, which Arthur appreciated.

"Coming?" he repeated.

"Where?"

"We haven't crossed the stream yet."

"Stream? It's a predator, that's what it is," Arthur frowned.

"Come on, not scared are you?"

Arthur followed. Merlin ran ahead, following the route easily, Arthur behind him at a distance.

Merlin reached the creek, grabbing the rope. He pulled at it with his weight to test it, before standing upright. "Merlin, are you sur-"

Merlin swung across, letting out a loud hoot.

Arthur's eyes widened, the possibility of Merlin falling still hung in the air, before Merlin let go and fell onto the ground on the other side, rolling away into some bushes. "Merlin!" he said, waiting for the tall figure to show. "Merlin, are you there?"

"Where else would I be, idiot," Merlin poked his head out. "Now hurry up or I'll go on without you."

Arthur carefully took the rope, pulling at it in a firm tug before wrapping himself around it. "Gods, don't let me fall," he sent a silent prayer, although he wasn't sure if he even believed in the whole thing, and swung. He felt himself float for a moment, suspended between everything and nothing, in mid air with the world at his command.

Then he let go, and everything was the same again.

Merlin was already running. He could hear the footsteps against the ground, crunching against broken twigs and dead leaves. He picked himself up, somehow not caring that his clothes were messy –not Pendragon perfect— for a change. He followed the trail, letting out loud laughs as he did.

Merlin's eyes met his, and the other boy smiled for one moment, suspended in the air like he had been while swinging across the creek and Arthur's vision became almost magnified. Everything about Merlin seemed to be brighter, clearer, his hair was catching the sun making it shine, his clothes stood out in bright contrast against the muted colours of the woods, and his face reminded him of everything good in the world.

Merlin quickened and the moment was lost.

"Do you see it?" Merlin asked loudly enough to be heard over the wind.

"See what?" Arthur asked.

Merlin didn't answer.

The taller boy stopped in front of a large tree, not one that Arthur could identify because the woods were never his specialty and he couldn't even differentiate an oak from a chestnut. He watched as Merlin ran his fingers lightly over the trunk, before the fingers tightened, gripping it harder.

Arthur walked closer. "You going to climb it?" Merlin lifted his leg and placed it on the trunk, hand reaching out to grab a low branch, as an answer. Arthur waited until he was sufficiently high before he climbed along the same path. It wasn't too difficult considering the number of branches he could use as support.

Merlin was sitting on the top branch, a sturdy enough one to hold his weight. Arthur sat on the branch opposite. The view was blocked from that angle – clusters of trees and grass that stretched out across the land.

"Do you see it?" Merlin said softly.

"See what?" he asked, confused, and frustrated at the confusion.

"Everything," Merlin smiled.

Arthur closed his eyes.

Breathe in; breathe out; imaginative; creative.

He opened his eyes. And he saw.

The trees weren't just trees anymore. They were living things that moved with the wind, which swayed gently with their neighbours, which breathed with humanity. The grass sparkled under the sun, as though everything had been sprayed with sunlight in a bottle, and the sun itself seemed to draw energy from the light it shined on everything and anything. There were small movements, and Arthur saw the glimpses of creatures like those that wandered in his mind, that had only ever found their place on paper.

And there was a castle, amidst everything, that seemed to be more intense than everything else, if that were even possible. Pure white that seemed lighter than white, a slick sheen that seemed to gleam more than any piece of polished furniture in his voice, flags that battled with the wind and won every time.

"What is this place?" he breathed.

"We get to give it a name," Merlin told him, nudging him. "I'm thinking 'Merlin' sounds nice."

"Merlin?" Arthur said with distaste. "That's dumb. Do you think if there were a TV show called 'Merlin' people would watch it? Choose a better name."

"If you're so smart you choose one."

"Fine," Arthur said slightly snidely. "How about," he tortured his lip between two teeth, suddenly afraid of making the suggestion, "Camelot?"

Merlin looked surprised, than relaxed. "Camelot." He tested the name. "It sounds nice."

"It's Arthur's place," Arthur said.

"Arthur like the King?" Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded, "Yeah, my Mum loved history, especially the Arthurian Legend." He laughed, "I guess you could tell by the names."

"Not really actually," Merlin blushed. "Everyone seems to have weird names."

Arthur laughed louder. "Well, since we made this place, and we named it, we get to choose who we want to be, right? So I," he announced, "Am going to be King Arthur."

"You're too young to be King, idiot," Merlin said humorously.

"I'm a Pendragon, I-"

"Can be anything, I know," Merlin rolled his eyes. "Still too young. So you can be Prince or something."

Arthur wrinkled his nose delicately, "Prince sounds so… plebeian."

"Plebeian?"

"You get what I mean; it doesn't have the authority of King Arthur."

"Well," Merlin said slowly, "You get to be the exception. You're the Prince Arthur whom the people love more than the King, happy?"

Arthur nodded satisfactorily, "And you get to be my servant."

Merlin's smile dropped. "I refuse."

"But I am Prince so I decide, you are servant," Arthur said smugly.

"I made this place too you know," Merlin said, "Or have you forgot in the one minute you were Prince?"

"Still Prince," he shrugged. "And I make the decisions. You," he pointed at the boy. "Are the servant."

"But that's not fair," Merlin was pouting prettily. Arthur paused, not prettily, just pouting.

"Fine, you get some perks or the other, make your choice," Arthur waved a hand languidly.

Merlin thought. "I want… magic."

"People weren't allowed to do magic then, idiot," Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

"Too bad, I am magical, I get anything I want." Merlin shot out a hand, Arthur swore that his eyes flashed gold, and there was a spark in the middle of the forest floor.

"Don't make any fire in my Kingdom," Arthur swatted Merlin at the back of the head.

"It's not just yours, I'm like your own personal sorcerer, I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers."

"Please, nothing is as cool as having your own Kingdom. You can't beat Prince-ship."

Merlin shot him a glance. "Prince-ship is not a word."

"I am Prince, now I really have the right to make every word I want."

Merlin glared at him for half a second before he broke into a grin.

"Still cool."

And Arthur couldn't disagree with that smile.

-|-

He wanted Merlin.

The house seemed to have a dampening effect on his mood. The freedom and absolute euphoria he had felt just a day ago had disintegrated into fine sand that refused to transform into what it was before. That depression he had felt earlier with Lancelot, he had forgot it all for those few blissful hours with Merlin, was back, almost twice as bitter now. Even Gaius hesitated before greeting him when he had entered the house.

Mordred was saying something, and the boy's voice seemed even more grating than usual.

"And I swear Susanne was being so cruel to Johns that Johns started crying and I swear I thought he'd wet his trousers or something, although he didn't even he started weeping or something that made his nose like have all sorts of snort stuff dripping out, it was sick and Susanne started screaming even louder because of it the-"

"Mordred," Arthur interrupted sharply. "Shut up."

Mordred looked taken aback for a few seconds. "But, Arthur, I thought you'd want to know what happened for the past couple of days cause you weren't here and all…" Mordred trailed off.

"Well, I don't."

Mordred looked less shocked and more hurt now. "But you're never home nowadays."

"I don't like it here."

"I thought you liked hanging out with me," Mordred injected hurt into his voice.

"You're a kid," Arthur looked at him emotionlessly.

Mordred pushed the chair back abruptly, and it screeched against the floor, the sound resounding against the walls ominously. "You're never home anymore," Mordred slammed his hands against the table with emotion. "You're never with me!"

"I don't want to be, Mordred," Arthur's voice rose, paralleling Mordred's tone.

"You used to!"

"I've never wanted to!" Arthur shouted, standing up himself, easily towering over his youngest brother.

Mordred's expression froze, and Arthur was given time to fully appreciate the mixture of disgust, and sorrow, and hurt. Arthur stared at Mordred until he shifted his eyes away.

"You weren't like this before Merlin," Mordred whispered.

The boy turned and ran before Arthur could form a reply. But he saw the tears in Mordred's eyes, and the betrayal in his voice, and that was enough to produce a slight pang of regret.

He sat down slowly.

Breathe in; breathe out; unaffected; unconcerned.

He closed his eyes and opened them before closing them again, allowing himself to enjoy the repetition.

"Arthur," the yell startled him from his thought. He kept his eyes closed. He recognised Owain's voice and did not want to see him; out of sight, out of mind. "Don't ignore me," the footsteps were nearing him. "Arthur," Owain said again, loudly.

He felt a hand at his shoulder, rough and pulling him to stand.

Arthur's eyes snapped open and he looked at Owain. This was one of those times he was glad that he was the tallest in the family.

"Fuck off, Owain," he said in a low voice.

Owain's eyes narrowed. "Don't curse at me, you've forgot your place, baby brother," he said mockingly.

"Fuck," he prodded at Owain's chest with a finger, "off," he took a step closer, "now," he had Owain cornered against the table. Owain's eyes widened – Arthur never acted like such a barbarian around his family.

"Listen, I don't know what your problem is-"

"You don't want to know either."

"You blew up at Mordred for absolutely no bloody reason so, I think you'd be wrong there. So, yes, I sure as hell do." Owain glared at him.

Arthur shook his head. "No, Owain, I don't think you want anyone to know."

"About what?" Owain burst in frustration.

"You and my fucking teacher, that's what!" Arthur screamed in his brother's face.

Owain froze, still trapped against the table, still wearing an expression of anger, although now it was distorted, still so bloody clueless. "What?"

Arthur's voice dropped. "He told me, your dear Lancelot, he told me everything." Arthur was exaggerating, but he knew enough anyway.

"What do you mean?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "What do you think I mean? You're together!"

Owain was flustered. "Arthur, you've got to understand-"

"No, Owain, I don't, I bloody can't. You've never been a fag," Arthur stumbled over the word, "before, why'd you have to turn into one now?"

Owain shook his head fervently. "You don't turn gay, and don't say fag it's... insulting."

"Being a fag," Arthur spat the word like something that had risen from his throat out of pure disgust. "Is insulting, and disgusting."

"No, it's not," Owain insisted. "You wouldn't understand what Lancelot and I have."

"And what do you have?" Arthur asked rhetorically.

"We have," Owain fumbled for the words, but he was persistent if nothing else. "We're like any other couple. We date each other like most people, and we buy each other dinner, and we worry like hell about what the date will be like," his voice softened, his entire faced softened, into something Arthur thought he recognised in his Father's face when he spoke about their mother. "And we help each other when shit hits the fan, and we protect each other from people," the 'like you' was unspoken but heard, "And we love each other."

Arthur thought about the word. Love.

"How long have you been together?" he asked, calmly for the first time during the course of the conversation.

"A while now," Owain was avoiding the question.

"How long, Owain?" Arthur's voice steeled.

"Two years, three months, eight days," Owain grinned slightly, "Want me to go into the specifics?"

"No need." Arthur paused. "So you like him then."

"Quite a bit, yes," Owain raised a brow in amusement, former hostility gone.

There was a long stretch of silence as Arthur absorbed it all.

"You do know that Father will kill you if he finds out," he said.

Owain lost the amusement, becoming something Arthur couldn't exactly identify. "I know."

"It might be worse," Arthur continued, "You might be disowned."

"I know."

"And you're going to risk this all," he gestured at the area around them, high ceilings and elaborate curtains, intricately carved vases filled with expensive arrangements of rare flowers, tables and chairs adorned with personalised pieces. "For him. For Lancelot."

"Without hesitation," Owain said immediately.

"Why?" Arthur felt like he didn't know anything he needed to.

"Because I love him," Owain said simply.

Arthur hardly understood the meaning of the word.

"You shouldn't, he's not worth it," Arthur tried.

Owain got angry quickly, defending his partner, "Of course he is."

"And Father will find out," Arthur tried again.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"If I don't and he finds out that I didn't, then he'll kill me as well."

"I'm your brother."

"Yeah, the brother who dated a guy for two years and never said a word to anyone." Owain winced. "You told someone." Owain nodded guiltily. "You told Ewan." Owain gave that nod again. "Of course, you tell Ewan everything." It was weird, but he understood why Owain would tell Ewan, it was something like how he would almost always tell Mordred.

Now, would always tell Merlin.

"You can't tell him, Arthur," Owain sounded pleading. "You have to understand, after all."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, come on Arthur, I'm not blind and neither is Ewan. We've seen you with that new boy, with Merlin; you obviously like him quite a bit-"

"Merlin is my friend," Arthur yelled.

"And he's obviously becoming something more. Honestly, how do you think Lancelot and I started out? We were both pretty insecure and all at first, but we became bette-"

"That's sick, you twisted bastard," Arthur stumbled back, out of what he didn't know though. "Merlin and I are definitely not like that, got it? We're just… not."

"Arthur, the first step is to admit it, yo-"

"For God's sake, Owain, I'm not fucking drinking or whatever, stop patronising me. I don't like Merlin," he stated clearly, firmly, "Not like that."

And with that, Arthur left the room.

-|-

Arthur was sitting on the tree, watching out over his kingdom.

He wasn't supposed to be here, that much he knew. But he didn't know where else to go, and Camelot had become somewhat of a sanctuary over the weeks, so it seemed like the obvious place. He couldn't figure out if he wanted Merlin to be here. If Merlin was here, he'd be distracting Arthur, pushing his mind away from the uncomfortable matters that filled it now. If Merlin wasn't, then maybe he'd think less of the thoughts that filled his mind. It was a possibility on either scale, but it was steadily tipping in Merlin's favour, because regardless of what his mind said, he still knew he wanted Merlin.

Of course, there were many factors to consider. His Father had always taught him to weigh the advantages and disadvantages logically before reaching a decision.

He'd only known Merlin for a few weeks now. And Merlin was a guy. And his Father would disown him without a second thought. And what sort of a crappy role model would he be for Mordy then, anyway. While his brothers might not mind, he knew those at school would not be so accepting – maybe Gwen, but only because the fool liked everybody. Not to mention the fact that he still liked girls, and Merlin, but the main thing was that girls remained part of the equation; within the list of possibilities.

On the other hand, it was Merlin.

Strange, because his mother had always made snap decisions. She had never weighed anything or thought about anything for too long. It was a running family joke that that was how she ended up with his Father.

He heard footsteps and didn't even need to turn to know who it was. Then he wondered if it was strange that he recognised Merlin by his footsteps. Probably. But it couldn't hurt to be able to identify someone with that ease. That was the excuse his mind prepared for him, at least.

"Hey," Merlin said, and Arthur knew he was grinning without even looking at him, he could hear it in his voice. It was this tone of plain joy, almost permanent Arthur found, since he never let it leave his voice completely – not a flaw, but not exactly what a Pendragon would consider a strength either.

"So," Merlin started conversationally, "Did you hear about Gwen? She had this huge row with Morgana in the middle of the school halls you know. Apparently, Morgana was with some guy, you know, the one with the funky hair from the bus, always wears black and eyeliner and everyone thinks is gay?"

Arthur mentally flipped through the list of his schoolmates. "Adam," he identified.

"Yeah, that's the guy. Morgana was with him in one of the classrooms, and Ms. Nimueh actually caught them. I'm surprised everyone from around here didn't hear them," Merlin laughed. "That is one woman who can shout, she's like something out of a really crappy TV show, you know, as the evil villain or something."

Arthur grunted noncommittally.

"So, Ms. Nimueh dragged both of them to the Head, and Morgana might get suspended, or expelled, no one really knows the details, and I didn't want to bother Gwen while she was in that sort of a mood, you know? So, Adam's not going anywhere, apparently he's like poster boy for gays or something, so they can't touch a 'hair on his head', a quote provided by that other guy who always hangs out with him. David, I think. And Morgana's Mum and Dad should be heading here, but they can't get in touch with them."

Merlin paused, Arthur nodded, and the other boy continued.

"So, Gwen was screaming today about what stupid girl Morgana was for risking her education over some piece of ass that meant nothing, although she apologised to Adam for that, said he really did have a nice ass, and that Morgana didn't deserve half of what she got. And, guess what?" Merlin's eyes twinkled, and Arthur was reminded once again that Merlin had a flair for the dramatic. He motioned for him to continue and Merlin acceded. "She slapped Morgana once and walked away! I swear, I've never seen Morgana look so… broken," Merlin thought, "I actually felt kind of sorry for her."

"For Morgana?" Arthur asked disbelievingly.

"Well, yeah, I mean, she's still human right? You should have seen her, she was practically crying." Merlin sounded strangely upset, and Arthur looked straight at him.

He looked like he always did. Hair falling everywhere, eyes bright blue, mouth tilted in a smile. But different at the same time. A strain in the smile, a tightening in those eyes.

"Don't feel too bad," Arthur heard himself say, comforting him he realised. Then he winced inwardly at the realisation. That wasn't in character for a Pendragon.

"Thanks," Merlin grinned, and Arthur saw two spots of pink high on his cheeks.

His brow rose. "Are you blushing?" he sounded amused, he was amused.

"I am not," his face turned slightly red.

"Yes you are," Arthur was grinning now.

"No, I'm not," his face was turning impossibly red.

Arthur laughed loudly, "Oh my god, the last time someone turned that color Mordred was getting killed by Ewan."

"Now that's a story."

"And one far too long-"

Merlin prodded him with a finger on the shoulder. "All I have is time."

"Actually, I'm not sure what exactly happened myself. Ewan refuses to speak of the incident, and Mordred doesn't want to die, so he shuts up for a change. All I know is that involved the lamps in his room breaking, and the books being thrown in a bonfire, and his clothes turning into dog food."

"Sounds like Mordred," Merlin commented.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" Arthur leaned back against the branch, relaxing for the first time since Merlin arrived.

"So, what had you so worked up?" The relaxation was more momentary than he had expected.

"I don't know what you mean."

Merlin shot him a look, "Yes you do, or you wouldn't be all tensed up right now."

"Forget it, OK? Come on," Arthur jumped off the tree in a leap. "Race you."

Merlin jumped off, running with Arthur. It was the one thing he seemed to honestly enjoy. Arthur tried not to notice that Merlin looked quite attractive with the wind blowing against his face. He failed.

Then he saw the blur of black that ran alongside them, and turned towards Merlin. "What is that?"

Merlin shook his head, but picked up speed. "I don't know, and I don't think we need to find out." There was a roaring in his ears as they moved, faster than everything, faster than anyone or anything in the world, faster than the nymphs that giggled at them from the trees, faster than the centaurs that galloped through the trees, practically weaving their way through the forest, faster than the very wind.

"Aren't you supposed to be magic?" he asked Merlin as he passed him.

"And aren't you supposed to be the Prince?" Merlin asked, not willing to be left behind. Arthur froze in his tracks, and Merlin stopped and rolled his eyes. "I didn't actually mean it."

"But you're right, I should be fighting this… thing," Arthur said firmly.

"Arthur, for one thing, you can't find anything without knowing what it is. And second, you don't have a weapon." Merlin looked at him pointedly. "Need I continue?"

"Nope, I'm just going to ignore you anyway." Arthur looked around the area, picking up a long branch amidst the broken twigs and leaves. "You, change this into a sword."

"It's supposed to be providing nutrients for the soil," Merlin recited. "And, how am I going to do that anyway, you prat?" Merlin said exasperatedly.

"You're the warlock, so hurry up." The blackness was nearing them, too quickly for it to be normal.

Merlin bit his lip, holding out a hand. He curled in two fingers.

"You're not Spiderman, you idiot," Arthur said in aghast.

"I don't know how to do this rubbish, it's not as easy as we make it look, you know."

"You haven't done anything yet," Arthur pointed out.

Merlin just glared. Then he looked at the branch again and his eyes flashed gold –nothing like Arthur had seen before, nothing that he could describe, a flash of colour that Arthur guessed was what pure gold looked like without human tampering, pure being the word he was looking for—and there was a sword in his hand.

Merlin smirked. "And you say I'm just a pretty face." Arthur flushed, but not for the reasons Merlin guessed.

"Whatever, we've got to kill that thing."

Merlin nodded. "The sword, it should be able to get rid of it. It's magic," Merlin said the word like it were religion or something, and Arthur didn't doubt it in the least.

"Like," Arthur searched for the name, the same one his mother had used in fairy tale stories, "Excalibur."

"The sword in the stone?" Merlin frowned in slight confusion. Arthur nodded.

"Why has society degraded such that Excalibur is known by only the sword in the stone?"

"That's one of the coolest stories ever, I love Arthur!" Merlin stopped as he realised what he said; turning into what was fast becoming a familiar red colour. "I mean the Arthur in the story, not you, of course, but you knew that, I mean, why would I even mean you anyway, huh," Merlin stammered adorably.

Arthur smiled, "Come on, we've got something to kill."

"I still don't think it would be too smart if you tried to kill a creature without even knowing exactly what it is or wha-"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted. "Shut up."

Merlin, thankfully, listened.

"So, should we wait for it to attack or hide and then attack?" Arthur asked.

"Now you want to be logical?" Merlin asked, watching as the Thing came closer.

"Maybe we should wait behind the tree," Arthur stepped back as it neared.

"Yes, behind, way behind," Merlin turned around and ran towards the tree.

"Just stay behind me, OK? " Arthur said quickly, stepping before Merlin. Magic or not, he sensed the boy was useless at fighting.

The Thing was creeping closer. Closer. Closer.

"I think I know it," Merlin said.

"Now you know what it is?"

"Well, it was a little far just now, so I couldn't exactly see it clear-"

"Merlin, just tell me what it is," Arthur snapped.

"Sheesh, no need to rush the sorcerer. It's a griffin, you know, like in Harry Potter? Gryffiin-dor," Merlin sniggered.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Like hypo-griff?"

"Not exactly, you can't bow and have it listen to you or whatever."

"Well, then, what do I do?" Merlin sniggered again. "What?"

"Do do," he laughed.

"Merlin's pants, Merlin, that's so… childish."

"Don't say Merlin's pants, it's weird whenever people do," Merlin frowned. "It's like everyone's looking at my pants."

Arthur's eyes flickered to his trousers, unconsciously of course.

"Stop it," Merlin said, jumping back hastily.

"I wasn't doing anything," Arthur said flushing.

The griffin was just a little distance away.

"Should I just pierce it with the sword?" Arthur asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the nearing creature.

"I think?"

"You think? I don't want what you think, I want what you know."

"Well, I don't know, so if it doesn't work, then I'll do some magic thing."

Arthur turned his head slightly. "You don't know how."

"I distinctly remember having this conversation right before I turned a branch into Excalibur," Merlin said pointedly.

"Just watch me, got it?"

"When don't I?"

Arthur didn't allow himself to ponder over that particular statement.

The griffin was a little away when it stopped. It stared at him, and Arthur was given a moment to look at it in totality – its body, head arched with a gracefulness that escaped most humans, wings stretched so every feather seemed distinct, white and grey and a medley of colours that he had never seen before, its beak snapped close, menacing even when not attacking, its tail whipping in the wind.

Arthur crept closer, keeping his feet silent against the ground. The creature stared straight into his eyes for a few seconds before it attacked.

Arthur lunged at it with the sword, but it moved away quickly, letting out a snarl. He jumped as the creature snapped its beak at him. His knife swept at the creature, making it retreat slightly, feet hitting the ground resoundingly. His sword moved forward, hitting its head and leaving behind a trail of blood. He fell back as it screeched and clawed at him, missing him by mere inches.

It kicked at him again, rising up on its hind legs. Arthur saw the cruelty in its eyes, but refused to allow himself to be cowered. He swung his sword again, trying to reach its head. He missed, but it cut its neck, the same time he felt its claw slice his arm. The pain was sharp, stinging him uncomfortably, but he ignored it, moving back defensively.

The griffin screeched again, feet clawing at the ground in a movement he recognised as the beginning of a run. He wouldn't be able to protect himself if it lunged over him, wouldn't be able to protect Merlin. He ran forward at the same time it did.

His sword was glowing, some distant part of his mind note, a bright blue and white, a mess of colours that instantly calmed him. The sword sliced right through its body, below its head, an area he knew would be sensitive. He continued running by momentum, leaving the sword in the creature.

He dug his feet into the ground to stop, and its final scream penetrated the air.

Turning, he saw the creature move wildly around the area. It moved as though drunk before falling to the ground. He moved closer cautiously, using a foot to nudge at its body. But he already knew. It was too still, chest not rising and falling, as though someone had pulled the plug from its body and its life had been sucked away. Arthur kneeled next to it, watching.

He heard footsteps, recognised them.

"It's dead," Merlin breathed, not a question, but Arthur nodded anyway. Merlin kneeled next to him. "You did it." Arthur nodded, unable to speak. The sounds of the forest filled the air for a while, the grasshoppers chirping, the rustle of leaves as animals moved through, the chirping of birds everywhere.

Merlin sneaked a glance at him, and his eyes widened frightfully. "Arthur! You're hurt!" he yelped, and Arthur blinked.

"Yeah, I guess I am." He had almost forgot the wound on his arm. It didn't hurt much.

"You have to do something! Make it better," Merlin sounded like a squawking chicken that was about to be brought to the slaughter house.

"Not enough that I killed it, huh?" Arthur felt himself dropping to the floor. He felt faint.

"Arthur," Merlin said worriedly, hands on the wound. His eyes turned gold again, and Arthur felt better. "I hope that worked."

"What did you do?" he mumbled, letting himself stay on the ground, it was comfortable.

"Magic, pretty cool, right," Merlin smiled, a little sadly, Arthur thought.

"Don't be sad," he slurred, he still felt dizzy.

"I'm with you now, so of course I'm not sad," Merlin was blushing again.

"You're blushing again," Arthur told him, and the boy blushed harder. "You know, every time I say you're blushing, you blush harder."

"No," Merlin protested.

"And every time I say you're blushing, you say you're not, and you blush even more." Arthur laughed softly.

"Do not."

"Look in the mirror, idiot."

Merlin looked down at him for a few seconds. "Prat," he pouted. And Arthur knew Merlin would have continued, probably prattled on about some rubbish that he didn't even care about, because that's how the boy coped, but Merlin was still pouting, and Arthur couldn't stand it so he leaned up, hardly at all since Merlin was so close, and kissed him.

Merlin didn't do anything, not resisting but not exactly co-operating either, and the angle was awkward and it didn't feel at all like the true love kiss he had expected – no passion, or rush of feeling, or anything he had expected. Then Merlin had moved, just a fraction, and Arthur's tongue slipped into his mouth, and he felt everything –the rush of feeling and the clench in his stomach, everything from the cheesy romances that Ewan hid under his bed.

It was a little weird, but Merlin moved in front of him, and then Merlin was straddling him –the idea alone made him moan—and Arthur kissed him harder, tongue feeling around his mouth, and Arthur tasted lime and mint and something that reminded him of the magic that was Merlin.

Arthur felt a pang in his heart, and he kissed him harder, before he realised that it was because he needed to breathe. Merlin apparently felt the same thing, because he moved back. Arthur watched him for a few moments, and Merlin's eyes snapped open, and he rolled away. Arthur instantly felt the loss of warmth like something tangible.

Their harsh breathing filled the air. "Why'd you do that?" Merlin asked.

"Your job, right?"

"What?" Merlin leaned on a palm, looking at him. Arthur tilted his head towards him.

"You're my servant. Your duty," he poked Merlin's chest with a finger, both to emphasize the point and see the reaction –Merlin squirmed and his face turned pink— "Is to make me, the Prince, happy."

"Oh," Merlin said. "So," he thought hard, "You liked it then."

Arthur laughed. "What do you think?"

"Well, I think it's a yes. But I've been wrong before."

"You've kissed someone before?" Arthur was surprised.

"Why, you think you're the first person to like me?" Merlin was avoiding the question, and Arthur stared at him calmly. "Well, no, but only because I didn't want to."

"So, I was your first kiss," Arthur said smugly.

"Shut up."

Merlin leant down to kiss him again.

-|-

Arthur was an idiot.

He couldn't believe he'd acted like such an idiot. Kissing Merlin- He shook his head. He could have hardly acted any more idiotic. He hit himself on the head. How could he have acted so childishly? Without even thinking about the consequences, really. After all, if anybody found out about his actions, forget the Pendragon name, forget the family fortune, forget the possibility of a life.

He sunk into the seat. Thankfully, Merlin had yet to arrive, and, knowing him, he would be late. Ms. Nimueh made her entrance, pushing open the door and walking in. "Good morning, class," she said loudly. "Today, we are going to-"

The door was pushed open hastily, and Merlin slid in with a flushed face and messy hair. "Sorry, Ms. Nimueh, it really wasn't my fa-"

"We know, it's never your fault. Don't let it happen again." Merlin nodded and took his seat, sliding in next to Arthur. They had the same routine every lesson.

"Hey," Merlin smiled at him, just a hint brighter than it was the day before, but enough of a difference for Arthur to turn a shade different in partial embarrassment and partial joy, that he could cause such happiness in his—

He didn't know what Merlin was. A friend was what he would have called him the day before. Now, he wasn't so sure. They were on that line between friendship and something more, too fine to hold them for too long, and Arthur knew he had to make a decision and soon, but it was not easy.

"Hey," he mumbled, and Merlin instantly looked worried and hurt, and Arthur gave him a half smile, because he didn't want to hurt Merlin.

"Something wrong?" Merlin asked, less worried, but it lingered in his eyes.

"No, of course not," Arthur reassured him quickly.

"Are you sure? You're acting funny."

"I said it was nothing Merlin," Arthur snapped. "Are you deaf as well as dumb?"

Merlin felt silent. "No need to snap, I'm innocent."

Arthur snorted. "Innocent isn't the word I'd use to describe you."

"Whatever, you want to come over to my place today? We're painting."

"Painting?" Arthur spared him a glance.

"Yeah, my room. It'd be nice if you'd draw something with it as well," Merlin said casually, although the look on his face said otherwise.

"Why don't you get someone to do it for you?" It seemed like the obvious option to Arthur.

"We're not all that rich, darling," Merlin sounded amused. "Plus, it's fun, we did it at our old place. So every time I got tired with it, we'd just re-paint it."

"Well, OK, I guess. Even though I still think it's weird as hell," Arthur added.

Merlin laughed, softly though so that no one would overhear. "If you want, you can bring your brothers with you."

"Which ones?"

"Any of them, all of them," Merlin shrugged, "They're good people."

"Better than me?" Arthur was curious to the answer.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"The situation," Merlin shrugged again, "What you think is good or better."

"What about what you think? Better than me or not?" Arthur looked at him, "Straight answer."

Merlin didn't hesitate. "Better."

"I'm better or they are?"

Again, Merlin didn't hesitate. "You."

"Should I be honoured?" Arthur grinned at him.

"If you had brains and were less Pendragon than your brothers, than yes, you should be," Merlin stated, with a hint of smugness.

"Then I will be," Arthur decided.

"Mr. Pendragon," Ms. Nimueh cut in icily, "Is there something you wish to share with the rest of the class?"

"No, Ms. Nimueh," Arthur smiled politely until she turned away. It was strange, but Ms. Nimueh always let Merlin get away with the stunts he pulled, always easier on him than the rest of the class –as though they were a family in ways no one else could understand. She was harder on Arthur too. Although why he had yet to find out.

"She doesn't like you much; does she?" Merlin whispered.

"I don't think so," Arthur replied. "I think she has something against all Pendragons. Mordred said that she was practically cruel to him the other day during recess. He also said that he did nothing to deserve it, but since it's Mordred talking, I hardly know if he means it or…" Arthur trailed off. While he trusted his youngest brother more than the rest of his family, the boy tended to make up things to let himself off scot-free –he did it with Gaius and their Father, and if Arthur followed the track record over the years, he would do it with their teachers as well.

"You think there's some dirty family secret with her in it?" Merlin grinned at the idea, eyes lighting.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Please, the only person her age is Father. And he wouldn't ruin the family name for anything."

"Maybe they had a torrid affair as teenagers," Merlin said dramatically.

"Again, my Father. If you knew him, you'd know he wouldn't have affairs," Arthur tapped the pen against his cheek idly.

"You never know with a person, you know," Merlin insisted. "He could have done something as a child, stretched out over the years."

"As if, Ms. Nimueh's nice and all, but my Father expects quality standard," Arthur said.

"Mr. Pendragon, I will not warn you again," Ms. Nimueh shot him a glare, and Arthur straightened himself, nodding.

The class finished late. It reminded Arthur of one of those sayings about time, dragging when you didn't want it to, rushing when you did.

"You know Morgana's stuck at home these days?" Merlin was saying, and Arthur made sure that there was a distance between them –so no one would doubt as much as so he wouldn't be tempted.

"Yeah. Must be boring for her at hom-"

Arthur tried not to scream as he was pulled into a classroom. Merlin wasn't quite so tactful. He yelled and pulled at Arthur's other hand, as though that would help, and was dragged into the room with Arthur.

"What the fuc-" Arthur wasn't allowed to finish the exclamation. He felt his body being grabbed and slammed against the wall, landing him on it with a painful push; Arthur swore he heard the crack as his vertebrae broke. "What did you do to Owain?"

"What?" Arthur looked at Lancelot through dazed eyes, Merlin standing a distance away, frozen in fright and confusion.

"Owain, what did you do, or say, or whatever?"

"Listen, I don't know what you're talking abo-" A punch landed in his gut.

Arthur thought he was becoming too accustomed to getting cut off.

"He was distraught you know," Lancelot sounded strangely conversational considering the situation. "I have never seen him that upset. Not since Ewan," Lancelot shook his head. "Just like Ewan aren't you, hating it all don't you."

"Arthur?" Merlin asked warily from the side, and Arthur shook his head, waving a hand to signal to him to get out of there while he could. Merlin had never been apt at interpreting signs though. Arthur thought about struggling, but the hand wrapped around his throat was stronger than he would have expected –pumped by adrenaline, probably.

"I only told him the facts," Arthur gasped out.

"What? That we would be left alone if anyone found out?" Lancelot said with obvious anger. "We already know that, we know all the threats we're facing back and front, we could spell them out in our sleep, find them in a room with our eyes closed and our hands tied behind our backs, got it," Lancelot pushed harder. "All you're doing is making him upset."

"You're ruining his life," Arthur spat. "If Father found out Owain would have nothing-"

"He'd have me!"

"And you think you'd be enough?" Arthur scoffed darkly. "Owain likes money. His first word was money, he likes expensive things, he likes to be pampered, and he can't survive without first class treatment."

"He can change, he would change for me," Lancelot sounded sure.

"No, he'd be miserable. Owain thinks he can live with a life like that, but he can't. I've been his brother forever; you think you know him better than me?"

"He loves me, he would learn to live differently," Lancelot sounded less sure, tendrils of doubt entering his voice.

"He'd be happy for a while, but then he'd hate you. He'd hate you for making him live that way, he'd hate you for not caring for him like he could have without you."

"He loves me, he could never hate me." The grip around his neck loosened, and the voice became softer.

"He wouldn't be able to live with less than what he already has; you'd only lose him, slowly, steadily."

"Owain wouldn't leave me, not for anything," Lancelot shook his head, but he was trying to convince himself, not Arthur anymore.

"He would think you useless, he would rather have anyone else, faithfulness would become a thing of your bloody past," Arthur's voice was a mere whisper.

"No, no, he wouldn't." Lancelot shook his head, whispering to himself.

"He would hate you, and he would leave you, and you would die because of it, wouldn't you? You would die."

Lancelot looked broken.

Breathe in; breathe out; cold; heartless.

Arthur refused to let himself break. He was doing this for Owain's sake, he insisted to himself. He wanted the best for Owain, and Lancelot wasn't it – to hell with whatever either of them thought. They were both wrong. Arthur was right. He knew he was. He knew it.

"Arthur."

He didn't feel like himself, like he was outside of his body and looking on, hearing. Not directly involved, not feeling sensations of self-hatred for the pain he'd caused a man who obviously loved his brother; whom his brother loved unconditionally.

Merlin was walking towards him slowly. Lancelot was moving back, hitting the tables and falling on the ground, not even bothering to defend himself, just falling.

"Arthur."

Merlin walked closer, kneeling down next to where he lay on the floor. Merlin moved his head so that Arthur was on his lap, breathing shallow, and expression lifeless. Merlin's hand reached out to stroke his hair, softly, gently. His mother used to do that, when he was younger, stroke his hair and sing him a song.

"Arthur."

Merlin was sighing, a mixture of disappointment and ever present confusion. Merlin didn't know what was happening, he knew it was nothing good, he knew it involved Owain, he probably guessed what was going on between his brother and their teacher, but beyond that, Merlin knew nothing. If he did, Merlin would probably hate him, he would probably frown and go off on a tirade on how Arthur was acting like a prat, and maybe he was right. But it was too late anyway.

"Arthur."

Merlin shook his head. Arthur wondered if he had underestimated his friend, if maybe he was more perceptive than Arthur had presumed, if he knew exactly what Arthur had done to Lancelot –shaking on the floor, huddled into himself. If he did, Arthur wondered why he wasn't screaming, why he was holding him like he was a child, and Arthur wasn't.

"Merlin," he grabbed the hand, feeling drowsy, maybe from the lack of oxygen momentarily as much as the fact he felt numb. "Merlin," the hand tightened around his, as though to reassure him that Merlin was there, and Merlin wasn't going to go anywhere. "Merlin," his hand was brought up, and Merlin kissed the knuckles lightly, like the couples did in movies. If Arthur could have, he might have smiled. But his body couldn't summon the energy.

"Arthur," Merlin smiled down at him, like an angel or a saint or anyone or anything that meant purity, because the word was probably closest to describing Merlin –pure in every way that counted and a few more that didn't. Arthur thought that the moment before he kissed Merlin was eerily similar to this one.

He mentally shook his head to rouse himself.

Arthur pulled himself up slowly, groggily. "You feeling better?" Merlin asked, keeping his voice soft. Arthur didn't answer, mainly because he couldn't answer it in the affirmative, like Merlin wanted him to. He pushed himself to a seated position, leaning against the wall for support. "I guess I'll take that as a no."

He looked over to Lancelot, who hadn't changed his position, and scrambled away from him frantically, and Merlin started for a moment before calming. "Don't worry, he'll be fine," he said soothingly. "We should get Owain here." Definitely underestimated him. "It'll be OK."

Arthur wanted to shake his head to tell him no, that it would be the furthest thing from okay. But Arthur couldn't bring himself that. It would be like killing a unicorn; it'd only bring hurt to everyone involved.

"Merlin," he clutched at the name like it was oxygen, but it wasn't enough.

He got himself on his feet, stumbling towards the door. "Arthur," Merlin followed him, but he pushed him away. Not with force, since he didn't have the energy, but the motion was enough to keep Merlin from following him further.

"Don't," he said, in case Merlin was too daft to understand that he didn't want anyone around him now, especially not Merlin.

"But, Arthur," Merlin tried fruitlessly, but Arthur was already gone from the room, leaving two broken men behind him.

-|-

"Would it be childish to say 'Found you'?" Merlin asked.

Arthur was in the forest. For peace and comfort, he deduced, but he could hardly be sure himself. "I wasn't hiding," he said, soft enough that Merlin had to creep closer to hear him.

"So?" Merlin took a seat next to him, cushioned by dead leaves scattered across the ground in an array of red and brown.

"If I wasn't hiding, I can't be found." Arthur ignored the voice in his head that taunted him liar.

"Well, OK," Merlin didn't sound sure, but he didn't comment any further.

There was a long silence in the air, not comfortable, but not tense either.

"You want to talk?" Merlin asked.

"No."

"You sure? Sharing is good for the soul, you know," Merlin quoted.

"Sounds like Gaius," Arthur guessed.

"It was Gaius."

Arthur hid a smile, "Gaius has been wrong before."

"Not very often though," Merlin said quickly, "Like, he always knows when I'm faking sicknesses-"

"Although that could be because you're an awful liar," Arthur didn't hide his smile this time.

"And he always knows when my Mum is pretending to be sick-"

"You could be learning from your mother," Arthur grinned.

"And he's just creepily knowing," Merlin finished with an exclamation.

Arthur laughed.

"So, are you coming?" Merlin asked.

Arthur looked at him curiously, "For what?"

"The painting, don't tell me you've forgot," Merlin sounded hurt.

"Sorry," Arthur blushed, squirming uncomfortable. Then he saw Merlin smile and hit him on the back of the head. "Idiot."

"Prat," Merlin retorted. "Now come, already."

"For the painting?" Arthur asked.

"I swear, Arthur, you're losing brain cells by the second," Merlin laughed, pulling them both up.

"Wait, you still want me there?" The events of the day were still fresh in his mind, unwanted, but still there anyway –without his permission.

"Of course I want you there," Merlin looked at him with genuine confusion. "Why wouldn't I?" Arthur only needed to look at him blankly. "The past is forgot, you know?" Merlin rolled his eyes. "You're my Prince, not my Master, if I didn't want you there, I wouldn't ask you."

Arthur blinked blankly at the boy –this weird, abnormal boy like no one else in his life—and smiled. "Well, in that case, we should go now right," he said, and Merlin laughed again, a contagious thing, and ran.

"Catch me if you can," the boy yelled behind him, and Arthur did not allow himself to hesitate before he chased.

They were running through the forest, and Arthur was reminded of the first time they'd run through this forest –how long ago was that? A few months? A lifetime? And wondered how things had changed, with him, with his family, but not Merlin, Merlin was never changing.

Merlin pulled on the rope and swung across in an easy motion, hardly stopping to even check its strength, or the area around it. Arthur took a moment to worry, but swung himself across after Merlin, he wouldn't be left behind.

Merlin swung his bag onto his back, with Arthur following him. "The house is near yours actually, so we have to go to the other end, at the opposite end, you go straight and then you turn left and then you're there, and it's nowhere near as big as your house, or you would see it from your house, but I like it, since it's just Mom and me, and it's not too bad-"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted, "Stop worrying."

"Who's worrying? Me? I'm not worried. I'm not worried at all, I mean, why would I be, it's not like you're anyone important, just Arthur Pendragon, son of the richest man in this area and probably the state as well, and you've lived in humongous places your whole life, and you're jus-"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said, smiling lightly. "Stop worrying and making a bigger idiot of yourself. I'm sure that I'll love your house, and love your family, got it?" He shook Merlin slightly by the shoulder, "Got it?"

Merlin nodded somewhat shyly. "Well, yeah, this is where we take the left."

Arthur followed him accordingly, and turned, meeting abruptly with a small cottage. It had a long path surrounded by flowers, a garden that was obviously tended for with care and love, leading to a blue door. Arthur didn't know what was so surprising about the blue door; it could be the colour, a starling blue that was like no other he had seen in his art room, or the knocker, an intricate dragon with eyes that sparkled with life.

The house itself was nothing fancy, simple compared to his own, but there were curtains of delicate cloth and patterns hanging at the windows, a feeling of home that his house would never be able to replicate, not even in the least.

"So," Merlin started nervously, "This is it."

"Well," Arthur took another look around the area. "I like it."

Merlin brightened visibly.

A woman opened the door before they knocked it. Brown hair sat atop her head in a messy pile, and her pale face was slightly flushed. She was dressed in trousers, dark brown, and a simple shirt, with a bright red that drew as much attention as Merlin did. She looked exactly like Merlin.

"Hello Merlin, Arthur," she greeted quickly, rushing towards a cluster of plants and patting them with gloved hands. "Poor dears," she murmured.

"Hey, Mom," Merlin grinned. "What's wrong with Vi?" he asked, crouching next to her.

"The dear's got withered, not sure if it's the soil or the weather," she shook her head, petting the violet flowers.

"Well, she'll be fine soon, I think," Merlin reassured her. "She has to get used to all of this."

Arthur was lost.

Merlin pulled himself up. "So, Arthur and I will get started painting?"

"Oh, you can, I'll join you soon." Merlin dragged Arthur away into the house.

Arthur hardly stepped in before he started asking, because he had manners and he wouldn't ask questions in front of his host. "Vi? Withered? Climate?"

"Vi means Violet, it's the name of that particular flower. Mum brought it over from our old place, and it isn't doing too well." Merlin dropped his bag on a chair, and Arthur looked around the room. Open plan living, he realised; the kitchen at the left and the living room at the right, with a staircase leading up to another level he guessed hosted their rooms.

"Yeah, the painting is going to go on in my room, that's upstairs, you can leave your stuff here," Merlin nodded towards the living room's chairs, and Arthur obediently dropped his bag. "Hungry? Thirsty? I think we have Coke, orange squash, some other rubbish, too much junk food."

"Coke, please," Arthur said politely, seating himself.

Merlin glanced at him. "Coke it is."

"Thank you," Arthur said.

Another glance given in his direction.

"What?" he asked.

"Well," Merlin was walking towards the refrigerator, "It's just that people don't normally say mind P's and Q's here, and they don't sit like that either."

Arthur looked down at himself without a hint of self consciousness. "What's wrong with how I'm sitting?"

"Well, it's very… neat," Merlin said tactfully, pulling out a can of Coke and throwing it to him.

Arthur caught it smoothly. "It is neat you idiot. It's how Pendragons are thought to sit."

Merlin took out his own can and slumped onto the seat next to Arthur. "You're taught how to sit?"

"Of course we are," Arthur frowned. "I thought everyone was. Or, at least, everyone should be. It's very important you know."

Merlin took a sip. "You are one weird kid, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin said, and Arthur hit him on the head as punishment.

They heard Merlin's mother in the garden, moving about, whispering to her plants, patting them gently and moving on, being sure to give them all equal attention, as though they would feel slighted if a few more seconds were spent on a certain –and maybe they would, really. Arthur felt his thoughts being changed in the mere presence of the woman.

"Your Mum's nice," he commented.

"Thanks," Merlin said, smiling at him. "I think so too." Merlin faltered, "What about yours?"

"My what?" Arthur knew what he was talking about, who he was talking about, but he would rather not.

"Your Mum," Merlin clarified, "What was she like?"

"She was," Arthur thought about the faint matters he remembered of his mother, "A history nut. Above everything, I think. She always liked history, especially Arthur and all. And she loved us, and I think that's why she had us named after history, so that she wouldn't feel like she was abandoning it. And she was devoted to my Dad," he took another sip. "Don't know why, but she was."

Merlin hesitated. "How…" he trailed off, but he understood the question.

"We don't know really. She was really sick. But Da- Father, does not like talking about it." Arthur sank into the seat, all thoughts of polite seating vanished.

He heard Merlin's mother enter through the door, and the moment –if it could be considered a moment, although Arthur couldn't describe it really, define it either—was lost. He thought Merlin's mother understood what she had disrupted, because she stopped midway before continuing in slowly, a slight hint of apology in her movements.

"You boys not starting?" she said.

"No, Ma'am," Arthur stood up on protocol.

Merlin's mother laughed. "Please, call me Hunith." Merlin cringed. Hunith ignored him. "I don't know what my son has told you, but I hate being called by anything but Hunith." Arthur realised where Merlin received the slightly rambling trait from, because Hunith, continued. "Of course, Merlin must have said spiteful things. I've read that that is exactly what children do to their parents, you know. Of course, I could be wrong too, you never know about these things being a parent, just things you hear in magazines and all that."

She smiled at them charmingly. "Shouldn't we be getting into your painting, Merlin? Bring Arthur up; I'll join you two after I change, a right mess I'd be in this state."

Merlin nodded and beckoned Arthur to follow him, which he did after sending a nod towards Hunith –some manners were too ingrained to turn off at Merlin's want.

"We only have three rooms here, my Mum takes one, and I take the next, and there's a guest room," he said as they walked up the stairs. "Mine's the biggest. Mum says it's because she doesn't like her room being too big, but I think it's just so I get more space."

Merlin pushed open the second door and walked in, and Arthur followed. Big was right. The room was half the size of his own, which was saying something. The walls were a pale beige colour, fading at some areas, and all the items were covered protectively with white cloth.

"Mum doesn't want a mess," Merlin explained, noticing the lack of everything a teenage boy's room usually had. "I'm actually thinking of sticking up some posters or something, what do you think?" He grinned at Arthur, "Unless Sire wants his own picture plastered everywhere."

Arthur hit him on the head automatically; gently. "Shut up. Although, we should take a picture some day. I don't think I have any of us."

"I hate pictures," Merlin made a face, narrowly avoiding another hit. "And stop abusing me in my own house, Pendragon." He stuck out his tongue and walked over to where tubs of paint sat waiting. "I figure you can draw whatever you want, just don't make it too explicit, or too creepy, when you do."

"Aw," Arthur said mockingly, "Doe's Merlin get scared of the nasty monsters?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Bugger off. I don't like monsters," he said firmly, ending the conversation.

"Fine, then I'll stick with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and the Little Mermaid."

Merlin paused, "Too explicit."

Arthur laughed, "They're fairy tales."

"One woman and seven dwarfs," Merlin looked at him pointedly. "There is something so wrong about that picture. And The Little Mermaid is like the Disney version of porn."

"Really, I would think you'd like her."

"Her as in the mermaid or Disney in general?"

Arthur shrugged, "Both I guess. Very you. Or what I think you'd be when you were a kid."

"I think I did," Merlin searched for the word, "Different sort of things when I was a kid."

"Different is right," Hunith entered the room with a smile, covered completely with a black bag that was already splattered with paint. "Merlin was such a cute boy, I'll show you pictures later Arthur-"

"Mum," Merlin whined.

"Really, the things this boy would get up to," Hunith shook her head. "You know, by the time he was two, he would be climbing all around everything in the house like a little monkey?" Arthur laughed at the image. It sounded like Merlin. "Caused me so much trouble, I would be running all around like some madwoman trying to find him, and he ends up in the weirdest of places –in the washing machine, or inside some godforsaken cabinet, or something else that should have been too high and too small for him to get in, but my boy did."

Merlin was blushing, and Arthur only laughed harder.

"I can't imagine what you'd have gone through," he managed to wheeze out. "Merlin, maybe sorcerer was wrong, you could be the court jester."

"Oh, shut up," Merlin folded his arms and sulked.

If Hunith was confused by the statement, she didn't show it. Arthur thought that she had gotten too accustomed to the things her son did.

"Now," she said quickly. "Let's get painting. The paint is in those," she pointed, "And here are your brushes," she handed them each one. "Now, Arthur, Merlin tells me you have a hand for drawing, well, the wall is free for your thoughts," she smiled encouragingly. "And, if you make a mistake, you can just cover it up with the remaining paint." She pointed again to a few tubs of paint filled with the same beige that covered the room at present.

"Wait, so we're not painting the whole thing?" Arthur asked.

"Nope, this is decorating. And I don't like the stickers and posters, so painting it is," Merlin said, stepping towards the paint and sticking his into a deep red colour paint. He pulled it out, and then looked at the wall with a pose –it reminded Arthur of fake artists in museums trying to criticize paintings they didn't know a thing about—before using the brush to make a large cross.

He stepped back.

"How does that look?" he asked seriously.

"Lovely, Merlin, wonderful expression," Hunith said. "I especially like the intersection point between the two strokes, brighten it up and it will look so lively." They both turned towards him and looked at him expectantly.

"Er- Wonderful," he said sarcastically, but they both smiled and turn back. He moved towards a deep green and dipped the brush into it. He went to the wall, standing next to Merlin. "So, just paint?"

"Just paint."

So Arthur painted, a wonderful creation that started with spots of green and splashes of red and purple that evolved into the makings of a face, then a body, with legs and a tail, eyes that shone like beads, scales that were precisely coloured so that each individual scale was a work of art, and the barest hint of fire around the entire creation, a cave, a locked creature-

"Arthur," Merlin said in the tone of one who had been calling for him for a while.

Arthur looked at him with slightly dazed eyes, and then smiled dreamily. "Hello, Merlin, Hunith." The latter was staring at the wall in unhidden amazement.

Hunith started to speak, "Arthur, that looks wonderf-"

"Arthur, I said I didn't want anything creepy," Merlin was looking at the painting with a mixture of appreciation and horror at living with it.

Arthur took a look at his painting. It was a dragon. A dragon that breathed fire –with glimpses of metal in the background— and enough darkness around it to suggest a dark situation. And Arthur squinted to see a small figure at the edge, holding a torch in his hand –it looked strangely like Merlin.

"Don't listen to him, Arthur, that's just exquisite, the absolute beauty you've captured in it," Hunith gushed, smiling at him fondly.

"Did you do that?" His head snapped back to see Mordred joining them, moving closer to Merlin and away from him. He obviously had yet to forgive Arthur. Merlin threw him a disapproving glance while laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously, treading on fine ground.

Mordred looked at it, and Arthur fancied that he saw a glimmer of pride in his brother's eyes, but Mordred was still a Pendragon, even at nine, and the mask was easily replaced. "It's not bad," he said stiffly, avoiding Arthur's gaze. "Is that you, Merlin?" Mordred was the first to notice the small figure at the corner. Merlin walked closer to look at it.

"You know, I think it does look a little like me," Merlin turned back to Arthur. "Did you draw me? And if it is, what in God's name am I wearing?"

"Something as awful as what you're wearing now, maybe," Arthur shot back instantly, realising the presence of Hunith only after he said it. "Not that there's anything wrong with it," he quickly added, "But –er, you know-"

"I've always told Merlin that he should buy better clothes. My son has not the slightest bit of fashion sense, I tell you," Hunith said good-naturedly.

Merlin rolled his eyes and walked towards the door. "My clothes are fine thank you."

Mordred ran out, and Arthur heard his feet pounding against the stairs. "How'd he get here?" he asked.

"He's a smart boy," Merlin said. Arthur couldn't deny the fact. "You know, you should make up with him," Merlin said.

"Why?"

Merlin gave a wistful smile. "Because you want to."

And Arthur thought that Merlin might be right.

-|-

"Mordred, wait up," Arthur called after his brother.

They had returned from school, and it had been almost a week since Arthur had said the sacrilegious words. Mordred paid no attention to him, instead walking on, even increasing his speed. Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the childish display, but he could hardly blame him –he'd acted the same way with his older brothers on too many occasions, as they were so fond of reminding him. That didn't make it any better, though, Arthur realised a little too late. "Mordred," he said again loudly. "Wait for me."

Mordred was not waiting, far from it. Arthur jogged to catch up with him. He pulled him by his shoulder, and Mordred roughly shrugged him off, face set in an angry expression.

"Mordy-"

"Don't call me that," Mordred snapped, the first words he'd said to Arthur since the visit to Merlin's, but they weren't the ones he wanted to here.

"Why not?" Arthur said pleadingly.

"Because you have lost the right to," Mordred said.

"I gave you that name," Arthur reminded him, unwisely considering the glare Mordred threw him –it was easy to forget that he was trying to gain Mordred's sympathy, not annoy him.

"That's not my name," Mordred said with finality.

"Fine, Mordred," Arthur placed mocking emphasis on the name. "Will you talk to me, please?"

"No."

"Come on, Mordred, you can't still be annoyed."

The glare was answer enough.

"You've given me the silent treatment for like a week." Arthur knew he was whining; he was beyond the point of caring.

"And I will continue."

Arthur grinned, "Technically, you've already broken it by talking to me."

Another glare made him shut up.

"Anyway, would you give me five minutes?"

"No."

"Four minutes?"

"No."

"Three?"

"No."

"Two?"

"No."

"One?"

"No."

"Half a minute?"

Apparently, that didn't deserve a response from Mordred, because he ignored Arthur. "I'll take that as a yes then?"

"No."

"Please, Mordred, how long are you going to keep this up?"

Mordred glared at him again, and Arthur sighed heavily; exaggeratedly. Mordred looked at him again, and Arthur sighed harder. Another look, another sigh. "Stop that," Mordred snapped.

"Finally, he says more than just one syllable," Arthur threw his hands in the air.

"Arthur, you have been exceedingly cruel these days," Mordred turned sharply on his heel to look at his elder, formerly closest, brother. "I do not understand you or the emotions you have been experiencing, and I believe that you have acted more like a child than anything. If you wish to maintain a healthy relationship with me, I would suggest that you act your age and just snog Merlin."

Arthur had to admit he hadn't expected the last part.

"OK." He agreed.

"OK?"

"OK."

Mordred blinked. "I don't think it's normal for people to just agree to turn gay."

"Well," Arthur shrugged. "I already have."

"You've already turned gay or you've already kissed him?" Mordred had forgot his anger in the face of his brother's newest pronouncement. His eyes glittered with a mixture of anticipation and amusement and something Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to identify, "So?"

"Well, the latter. Not sure about the former." Arthur studiously controlled his voice to keep it level.

"You snogged Merlin?" Mordred grinned; he looked positively perverted at that moment. "And you didn't even tell me?"

"Well, you weren't exactly talking to me," Arthur reminded him, although he wasn't sure if he should have.

"Whatever," Mordred rolled his eyes. "You snogged Merlin?"

"Yes, Mordred, I did," Arthur said patiently.

The boy squealed with the delight of one of those girls in his school who loved gay men. "What was it like?"

"You mean snogging Merlin?"

"Of course I mean snogging Merlin! Unless you've snogged someone else recently," Mordred said suggestively.

"Yeah, I have actually, and no, I'm not going to tell you about it," Arthur said quickly.

"Aw, come on Arthur, at least tell me about Merlin," Mordred said slightly pleadingly.

"It was fine," Arthur shrugged.

"Fine, that's it, fine?" Mordred said, obviously upset with the lack details.

"It was fine," Arthur shrugged again. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Something more," Mordred said with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, it was pretty fine," Arthur said simply.

"Fine, that's it, fine?"

They turned towards Merlin, who bounded up to Arthur.

"I give you my first kiss, and all you can say is fine?" Merlin frowned.

"God, what is with you two?" Arthur turned to see the united front that was Merlin and Mordred. "Fine is a perfectly suitable description."

"No, it's pathetic," Mordred said.

"Yeah, it makes me sound absolutely awful at snogging," Merlin held up a finger, "And don't you dare comment on that."

"I wasn't going to," Arthur defended himself, although everyone recognised the lie for what it was.

"Use a different word, Arthur," Mordred suggested, sensing the growing tension between the two. "And if this is your first fight, can you wait until I get a tape recorder or something?" The two turned towards him with a glare. "What? Don't attack the innocent."

"Off, Mordred, Merlin and I need to… talk," Arthur said delicately.

"Ooh, Merlin, I don't think talk means anything good," Mordred warned him. Merlin managed a smile, but it was tight. Mordred rolled his eyes at the drama of older kids and ran off towards his house.

Merlin waited until Mordred was out of sight before he looked at Arthur. "Does talk mean anything bad?"

"Not really," Arthur grinned. "And you're actually a damned good kisser, but it's not exactly what you tell your younger brother."

"Oh, really," Merlin sauntered over towards Arthur, casually swinging his hands around his waist. "So, better than fine?"

Arthur kissed him, tasting Merlin for seconds before pulling back. "Definitely."

"Well, I'm glad." Merlin smiled softly, before moving away. "So, you've made up with Mordred, what about your eldest brother?"

"Owain is," Arthur shook his head. "Different. From Mordred. In a number of ways."

"He's still your brother," Merlin told him, nudging his shoulder.

"I know, but not the same sort of brother, you know. It's a different set of characteristics, a different way to act. It's more difficult with him."

"Because you don't know him as well or because you're too stubborn to admit that you acted like an arse?" Merlin asked, quite sincerely.

"Both," Arthur admitted. "And I didn't act like an arse. I only told him what he needed to know."

"You think you were protecting him?"

"In some weird twisted brotherly way, yeah, I think I was," Arthur said slowly.

"Well, you, Arthur Pendragon, are far better a person than people think. Far better person than even you think."

Arthur laughed, stopping at the gates of his house, which opened slowly. "Thank you, but I think I'm pretty perfect."

"Like I said," Merlin walked backwards to the path to his house, "Better than you think."

Merlin disappeared from sight, and Arthur shook his head, walking up towards his house. Arthur thought about the boy, and the blind faith he had in Arthur, undue in his opinion, and only realised that there was someone walking towards him when he crashed into him.

"Owain," Arthur said, blinking rapidly to clear the daze in his head.

"Hey," Owain said softly, not dazed, but still uncertain. Arthur felt on edge immediately. Owain saw it, the uneasiness, and smiled at him, just as softly. "Don't." Arthur knew what he was talking about immediately. "I know you thought you were doing the right thing."

"Doesn't make it any better," Arthur said.

"No, it doesn't," Owain agreed, a comment that did not make Arthur feel any better, but he knew Owain was right, so it didn't make him feel any worse either. "But you could have done a lot worse."

"You're being awfully understanding," Arthur was cautious, as though nearing a startled deer.

Owain scoffed. "Not exactly. I might have reacted a lot worse in your situation." There was a long silence, one which Arthur did not want to break, but had to anyway.

"You have to make a choice."

Owain nodded. "I know. I did." His head tilted towards the ground, and only then did Arthur notice the suitcases on the ground.

"Oh." He was stumped. "In that case," Arthur faltered, "Congratulations."

Owain showed surprise. "Thank you."

"When are you going to tell Fathe-"

"I did."

Arthur stared at his brother in undisguised shock. Speaking to their Father about anything was difficult enough, to even broach the subject of homosexuality within his family was unthinkable at best. He didn't know how Owain did it. He didn't want to find out either. But he guessed that he might be forced to in the future.

"I guess I'm not a Pendragon anymore," Owain said with a sardonic smile.

"Once a Pendragon, always a Pendragon," Arthur reminded him.

"Yeah, can't deny that." Owain gave that smile again, and Arthur almost winced at the sight of it. "I guess I have to thank you, right?"

"For what?" Arthur asked dumbly.

"For making me choose."

They both understood the significance of the statement.

"Good luck," Arthur told him, as Owain picked up his bags and made for the gates.

"You too, Arthur," Owain said, and Arthur had the feeling Owain wasn't talking about just the family and school. "Treat him well." That confirmed it.

Arthur stood in the middle of the driveway, hardly taking note of the odd stares he drew from the servants who walked through the grounds, scampering away from him. He felt slightly numb –as though Owain's leaving had been something someone else had experienced, not him—unaffected by the rest of the world. The rest of the world unaffected by him too.

The thought made him walk.

He walked, not even knowing where he was walking, until he felt the leaves under his feet, and his body swinging across the river, and he kept on walking. He kept on walking, and then stopped. Merlin.

Merlin grinned at him, although it dimmed when he drew closer. "Hey, what's up wit-"

Arthur hugged him. Fiercely, hands encircling his body tightly, although Merlin never once complained, Arthur thought later, just accepted it like he'd expected it.

He didn't know how long they stayed in that position. In the middle of the woods, two figures, arms wrapped around each other almost suffocating, as though their life lines might be lost. But Arthur did not worry about who might see them in Camelot, or the rumours that would spread. For he was Prince, and his word was law, here if nowhere else.

"It's done," he murmured into Arthur's hair.

"Good job," Merlin said.

Arthur remained in the position. Then, "Thanks."

-|-

He was surrounded by the throngs of students that made a school when he saw Lancelot. Merlin had been talking away about something Arthur didn't care for, and people he knew too faintly to register had waved at him when he walked through the hallways, and teachers had been smiling at their Golden Boy while he tried not to be too rude ignoring them.

But the moment he saw Lancelot, it all seemed different. Merlin seemed to shut up, the students stopped looking at him, and the teachers stared at their other students.

Then Lancelot shifted his glance away and Arthur realised that Merlin hadn't paused, the students had doubled their efforts to get his attention, and some of the teachers were practically fawning over him.

"Hey," Merlin said suddenly, distracting him. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Arthur was quick to reassure him. "Just saw Lancelot."

Merlin immediately looked worried. "Well, maybe you should keep avoiding him."

"I'm not avoiding him-"

"I know, but you should."

"Because I am no coward. When Lancelot feels like talking, I'll be ready."

Merlin looked at him steadily, one of the few people with the ability to do that. "Arthur, you reduced a grown man to tears. I don't think he's going to want to talk to you for a long time."

Arthur winced. "I know, must you remind me?"

"If it makes you less proud and more reasonable, yes, I will remind you as much as I need to."

"Even if it means hurting me?" Arthur asked, curious of the answer.

"Yes, even, especially," Merlin gave a half-smile. "It's my job. As a friend," he clarified, so that no one would get the wrong impression.

"Well, I guess it's good to have you around then." They resumed walking, somewhat slower, more thoughtful.

"Hey, Arthur-" Merlin broke off abruptly.

"What?"

"Nothing." Merlin became unnaturally silent.

"What?" Arthur bugged him.

"I said nothing," Merlin grinned.

"You're not going to tell me? Your truest and bestest friend?" Arthur said with a wounded tone.

"Nope," Merlin laughed.

The mood seemed lightened, and Arthur heard the bell ringing, signalling the beginning of class. "Gods, do you realise that we're having Ms. Nimueh now?"

"Yep," Merlin sounded far too happy. "She's nice to me."

"Favouritism."

"Hypocrite," Merlin accused lightly. "All the teachers love you."

"Except Ms. Nimueh," Arthur pointed out.

"Except Ms. Nimueh," Merlin conceded. "But you're awful at maths. And I'm wonderful at it."

"Show-off."

"Jerk."

"Arse."

"Prat."

"Idiot."

"Arthur," Lancelot interrupted their conversation. The students passing them took no note, too intent on reaching their own classes on time. Arthur didn't blame them, but he wished that somebody would decide now to pull him away and demand an audience.

"Hullo," Merlin said –he didn't sound any less cheerful, something that would never cease to amaze Arthur.

"Hello, Merlin, Arthur," Lancelot nodded awkwardly, and the three stood in the middle of the hallway. "Could we… talk?"

"He might hit you," Merlin whispered to him, pulling at his hand.

"No, he can't, I can fight you know," Arthur whispered back.

"No you can't, he's bigger, and the teacher," Merlin said in a harsh whisper.

"No he'd not, I'm just as strong, Merlin, I don't need protecting," Arthur rolled his eyes at the boy's worry.

"That's what you said the last time."

"I was taken by surprise then, it wasn't my fault."

"I'm not saying it's a fault, it's just not exactly a good thing to be so stubborn."

"I'm not stubborn, I'm strong willed.

Lancelot interrupted their rapidly loudening conversation. "I'm not going to hit you. I promise." He looked at their unbelieving expressions. "Scout's honour."

"You were a scout?" Merlin asked in surprise, he hadn't pictured Lancelot to be one.

"No, but that's what people say, right?" Lancelot said, and Arthur nodded.

"Fine, where?"

"Here," Lancelot pushed open the door behind him –Arthur wondered if the whole thing was a plan since having an empty classroom was rare while classes were still ongoing, which reminded Arthur that Ms. Nimueh was going to kill them. Kill him, not Merlin –bloody biased teachers.

The room was insulated from noise. It was quiet, unlike the rest of the school.

"So," Merlin attempted to start a conversation, but failed –silent reigned in the room.

Merlin rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Could you just talk? We're risking Ms. Nimueh's wrath for you, Lancelot."

"I will clear up matters with Nimueh myself, you will be excused," Lancelot said, and the tension overhanging in the room lessened slightly.

"So," Merlin started again, and succeeded this time.

"Yes, Arthur," Lancelot said, "I have spoken with Owain."

Arthur nodded. "I heard, Owain's been talking with a lot of people it seems."

Lancelot blushed lightly and smiled, and Arthur got an inkling of exactly what the majority of the people in his school saw in Lancelot. Merlin noticed too, and commented with a smile, "That's so sweet!" Arthur personally thought Merlin sounded like a fan girl, and Lancelot like the blushing virgin in the relationship. Well, he guessed that they had already had sex, so bottom would be more right.

"I guess I have to," Lancelot paused, unsure of what to say.

"You don't have to do anything," Arthur said quickly. He didn't deserve to be thanked.

"You forced Owain to make a decision," Lancelot said. "For that, you must be thanked."

"Rather, I'm sorry," Arthur said softly, he was not used to apologising.

"No, you were right in that Owain might have left me if we hadn't-" He broke off.

"Confirmed your status?" Merlin volunteered.

Lancelot nodded gratefully. "Yes, if we hadn't surely been together. And if you hadn't done what you did –said what you did- he might never have decided to come with me." He looked at Arthur with large, sincere eyes. "Thank you."

"I –I think that he would have come with you anyway," Arthur said slowly. "Owain, he understood the risk he was taking by just having you in the house. If he risked that, he would have done anything else."

Lancelot shrugged. "We will never know, and maybe that is a good thing."

Arthur agreed. "Maybe so."

"Anyway, you should go to class now." And the formality returned.

"Lancelot, we've already missed a good half portion of the class, would it really matter if we missed the other half?" Merlin asked innocently.

"Nice try," Lancelot grinned. "But go to class now, both of you."

They laughed, walking out of the classroom. Merlin quickly said, as soon as Lancelot was too far to hear. "I am so proud of you," he teased. "My big, brave Arthur."

Arthur slapped him on the shoulder. "Bugger off," but he was still blushing slightly.

"Really, you didn't have to say half of what you did, but you did anyway." Merlin gave that smile, the one that lit his face and Arthur's too, and Arthur felt himself smile, on pure instinct.

"So," Merlin thankfully changed the subject. "Morgana's back, you heard?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, not particularly concerned. "I did."

"Gwen's totally glad I think, handling the whole school while Morgana was gone must have been hard. I mean, Morgana makes it look easy to look like Princess of the school or something, but I don't think it's near as easy as it looks. I mean, it's hard enough to be a servant in Camelot, although I think the fact it's you I'm serving makes it harder really, but being a Princess-"

"Is as hard as being a Prince?"

"Nope, I think it's harder. It's like, my Mum is always –I tell you every single bloody day— complaining about what it's like to be a woman, some rubbish about added pressure and PMS and all that. Then Morgana's a real duty, so she probably has to deal with the guys acting like idiots around her, and she has to do all the work of being the head-person sort of in the school, next to you of course, so it's got to be seriously hard."

Arthur nodded and made some "Hmm" noise that was sufficient.

"Did you see how glad Gwen was? I mean, I'm actually pretty suspicious on whether or not they're like, you know," Merlin looked at him knowingly.

"You mean together?" Arthur was openly sceptical.

"Yeah, it's not that hard to believe, you know," Merlin said.

"Yes, it is," Arthur said. "I mean, they're both girls. And they're both hot, well, Morgana is anyway. And they date guys all the time."

"The whole thing could be a cover," Merlin said in a wise tone.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We're abandoning that possibility now got it? At least until one of them tells us, for sure, that they're together."

"Ahah! So you admit that there is a possibility," Merlin pumped his fist into the air once. "Score one for Merlin."

"There's always a possibility, doesn't mean it's actually going to happen though, you know."

"But they're so close, I really really think it could happen," Merlin insisted.

"Unwavering, almost childish, faith you have, Merlin," Arthur noted.

"Thank you," Merlin stuck out his tongue at him.

"I don't think that was a compliment."

"I'll take it as one anyway," Merlin told him.

"Whatever," he said.

"Hey," Merlin looked uncomfortable suddenly. "I –erm-"

"What? You can tell me, I won't blame you if you've done anything more idiotic than usual," Arthur said with a grin, one that fell flat on Merlin, who didn't look near as happy as he should have.

"Well, the thing is, you know how Owain left your house, right?" Merlin started, obviously stalling.

"Yes."

"And your father wouldn't let him stay until he found a place, so Gaius said that he would help him, because Gaius isn't a bad person, not homophobic anyway, and he really, you know-"

"Wants to help?"

"Yeah, exactly, he wanted to help Owain, and the only way to do that is to get him a place to go, and, well, I wasn't home you see, and my Mom, she's really a nice person, and she only wanted to help I swear, so she offered to help, and we, well-"

"Spit it out, Merlin."

"She offered Owain the guest room," Merlin rushed out.

"And?" Arthur asked expectantly.

"Well, that's it." Merlin seemed confused.

"So why were you so nervous?"

"I don't know, I expected more of a," Merlin frowned, "reaction."

"What sort of a reaction?" Arthur asked matter-of-factly.

"I don't know- something more than this anyway."

Arthur started to say something, then paused. "Did you expect me to be jealous, Merlin?"

Merlin blushed incriminatingly. "No." Arthur looked at him knowingly. "Well, maybe." Arthur raised a brow. "Yes, OK? But he's your bother –shouldn't you be jealous like a normal boyfriend?"

Arthur laughed. "I'm not a normal anything."

"No, you're not." Merlin looked at him curiously.

Arthur changed the subject, "Hey, Merlin, what's your last name?"

"What?"

"Your last name, I just realised I don't know it," Arthur frowned. "I mean, it's Merlin, and your Mum's Hunith, and Gaius is Gaius, so, what's your last name?"

Merlin gave another stare, and then answered with a smile, "Emrys, my last name is Emrys."

-|-

Arthur felt strangely at peace with the world.

Everything seemed right. All the pieces of the puzzle seemed to have fit together so perfectly, he felt slightly out of sorts, as though everything might fall apart at any moment. Merlin might see someone else, or Owain might become depressed without his family, or his Father might decide to take too strong an interest into his relationships, or Mordred might become like one of those freaky children, or a hundred other things that Arthur didn't allow himself to ponder over because he might attract them by just thinking about them.

The gates opened, and he walked towards his house slowly, deep in thought. He felt the door open –or didn't, by the pure fact that he didn't crash into it—and walked in, still slowly, still considering the possibilities that his life granted right now.

"Arthur," Gaius said, walking across the hallway to greet him. "You have received a call; it is waiting for you in the room."

He nodded in acknowledgement and picked up the phone lazily. "Arthur Pendragon."

"Arthur? It's Gwen." Arthur had received calls from Gwen before, but usually on his cell-phone. "You aren't picking up your cell," Gwen said as though reading his thoughts. Arthur dug into his pocket to dig out his cell, and saw a few missed calls.

"I guess I didn't feel it," he said it an easy excuse.

"Well, yeah, whatever," Gwen laughed, a twinkling sound, "You want to go for lunch with me and Morgana?"

"Morgana and I," Arthur corrected.

"Whatever, you English freak, what are you? From olden times?" He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "You want to go for lunch or not? It's a yes or no question."

"When?"

"Now, we'll pick you up in Morgana's car." He heard Gwen turn and talk to someone else.

"Are you coming here already?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you need to ask me if you'd already decided for me?" Arthur asked.

Gwen laughed again. "I'm polite. I'll ask, and if you say yes, you'll come. If you say no, then I'll make you come."

"Ass," Arthur insulted her lightly.

"Just come out, we're waiting outside your place. You know, I never knew it was this huge," Gwen sounded faintly wistful.

"Don't you live in a place like this?"

Gwen cleared her throat, "Yeah, come out now, OK?"

"Got it," Arthur put down the phone, and walked out. Gaius saw him and shook his head. "Leaving already, Arthur?"

"Yes, Gwen and Morgana are waiting."

"Very well," Gaius said, with an exaggeratedly patient tone.

Arthur walked out and immediately spotted the car at the driveway, a limousine, because Morgana never left the house in a less than rich-screaming vehicle, except the bus to school –why Morgana even took the bus he didn't know, he suspected it was some form of punishment.

"Hey," Gwen rolled down the window and called out loudly.

"Hey," Arthur opened the door and slid in. "Where are we headed off to?" He didn't greet Morgana, who was blatantly ignoring him, with her earplugs plugged into his ears and blasting music that even he could hear.

"This nice little shop near town, wonderful coffee I tell you, so effective, and they have the most adorable cupcakes, lovely sprinkles and chocolate on top with fruits and everything I tell you, we'll be going there. I know it's more tea food really, but with a lot of it, it makes a superb lunch, and they do have really good food honestly," Gwen finished with a smile, one that reminded him of Merlin.

"You remind me of Merlin," he said.

Gwen's eyes twinkled, "Do I?" She shared a glance with Morgana, who finally showed some reaction in the form of a smirk.

"How sweet," Morgana said mockingly. Arthur looked at her, noting the knowing tone, and wondered if they knew more than they cared to admit.

"So, how've you been, Arthur?" Gwen asked, laying a hand on his knee.

"Fine, just the normal stuff." If the events that happened could be classified as normal, of course.

"Really?" Morgana drawled. "I heard that your eldest brother, Owain, is it?" She knew his name, and continued without waiting for his answer. "Is gay. Apparently he's been kicked out of the house."

Arthur wondered how she had found out, but decided not to bother. This was Morgana; she made it her job to know things, to know everything about everyone who was anyone.

"I thought it was the most fascinating of events," Morgana said. "How exactly did it go about? And with a teacher of all people too, wouldn't that be just weird."

Gwen was red, in embarrassment at Morgana's behaviour, he guessed. Some part of Arthur's mind, acting as third part completely uninvolved in the matter, noted that Morgana was acting not as she should, with none of the etiquette he knew would have been drummed into her by her parents.

"I must say, it is quite atrocious that such a person of such standing would act like this-"

"Morgana," Gwen snapped. "What the hell are you doing?'

"Just laying out the facts," Morgana replied coolly; coldly. "Tell me Arthur, what do you think of your brother's leaving your family? About the fact that he's a fag?"

"For one, I support Owain through everything, but I don't control my Father's behaviour. And I would appreciate your not using that word, it is vulgar, unnecessarily so, and Owain and Lancelot have done nothing to deserve it." Arthur's eyes locked with Morgana's, and continued in a staring contest that lasted mere seconds, but said more than anyone besides the two could understand.

Morgana leaned back in the chair, and she smiled, for the first time since he'd entered the vehicle. Arthur returned it. Gwen didn't understand what was happening, but if no one was fighting, she wouldn't argue. She leaned her head against Morgana's shoulder in a comfortable gesture, cautiously, as though unsure of how Morgana, and possibly Arthur, would react.

But Morgana allowed the gesture, and Arthur remained silent, without commenting.

They rode in silence for a while, before the car stopped slowly. The chauffeur said, "We have arrived, Madam," and Morgana got out of the car, Gwen following her.

"Lovely place, isn't it?" Gwen's chatter started up as soon as they exited the vehicle, as though no one but the two could see her as anything but abnormally cheerful. "We have a table all to ourselves in a private room at the back; Morgana's father has a friend with a friend who knows someone who knows the owner of this place." Gwen made that connection seem frighteningly simple. "I do so like that room, it's always prepared for us, you know. I never know how the people in these places do this stuff, always making sure that no one is left out of where they like. I'd be so very confused at the number of people, really amazing."

They entered the restaurant, and Arthur looked around. It was a nice place, in lovely shades of beige and red, with wooden tables to accent the colouring, and waiters who served in that discreet manner –appearing when you needed them only and somehow there even when not—that Arthur didn't think he'd ever be able to replicate. A man walked up to them, in a suit that Arthur smiled at, his Father had worn a similar one the other day, and took Morgana's hand, brushing his lips against her knuckles.

He showed them to the room, and immediately closed the door after him when he exited.

Morgana and Gwen took seats, obviously at ease at their settings, and Arthur did the same, although without the same ease. An awkward silence filled the air, even Gwen didn't know what to say. They didn't have anything in common besides school, and those topics easily exhausted themselves.

"Gwen," Arthur broke the silence. Gwen looked up gratefully, but it died at his words. "Why'd you bring me here?"

"What do you mean why? To have lunch of course," Gwen fingered the tissue nervously, making some animal with it.

"No, you don't just have lunch. You always have reasons behind everything, even lunch," Arthur said, and he knew that for a fact.

"It was not her," Morgana cut in.

"So, what do you want?" Arthur turned towards her.

"Well, it's not exactly her, either," Gwen said, placing the folded swan on the table and starting on another animal. Next to her, Morgana looked like the epitome of calmness.

"Both of you then?" Arthur looked at the two in front of him.

"Yes," Morgana said at the same time Gwen started stuttering with, "Well, kind of'."

"Well?" He looked at them expectantly. "What?"

"You see, Arthur, we trust you a fair bit," Gwen started.

"You trust him a fair bit, Gwen, I trust you," Morgana interrupted.

Gwen threw her an annoyed glance. "Fine, I trust you Arthur, and Morgana does because I do. Better?" Morgana nodded with a self-satisfied smile.

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, basically, I've become quite close to you," Arthur's eyes widened comically, and Gwen hastened to add, "I mean as a brother or something. Very platonic feelings, I assure you."

"Thank you," Arthur said gratefully. He did not need the added trouble of a friend who wanted to be more than just that. Merlin might very well have killed her, nice girl or not.

"And, what I'm trying to say is, because of this, I do not wish to lie to you in any manner," Gwen placed a bird on the table, and then picked up one of Morgana's tissues because she'd finished her own.

"That's… nice."

"Yes, quite, what I mean is that, in the event, such as the current one, where I am attached to someone, I would hope that you would understand and accept me, us, for who I am." She reached for another tissue, with a crane to join the swan and the bird, but Morgana pulled her hand into her lap.

"I'm Gwen's girlfriend. Deal with it," Morgana said frankly.

Arthur strained not to show his surprise, but years with his Father had taught him well.

Gwen looked at him anxiously, "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Arthur cleared his throat. "I'm –I'm fine. This is just… unexpected."

Morgana's brows rose. "You never considered it?"

"Well, I did of course. Merlin and I were just talking about it today actually, but, it's still kind of different you know."

"You and Merlin," Morgana smirked. "You can tell him if you want."

"Really?" Arthur looked at her. "I guess I have to congratulate you then."

Morgana nodded slowly. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Arthur," Gwen jumped up and hugged him. "You don't know how worried I was. Really, I was so freaked out the whole day, and Morgana kept telling me not to you, and turns out she was right, but I was anyway, and I am so glad you don't mind." She sat back down and beamed at him.

Arthur grinned. Another piece was falling into place.

"Well, I guess we had better eat," Morgana said, and the rest of the meal continued in relative peace, except for those times where Morgana couldn't resist making a snide remark, and Arthur couldn't resist retorting.

"We'll drop you off, OK?" Gwen smiled at him, making her way out of the restaurant. Arthur didn't take too much note that Morgana didn't pay for the meal, her being there would be advertisement enough already.

"Of course, thank you," Arthur nodded, moving forward to hold open the door for them. Morgana gave a long look at him, smirking at his inbred gentleman attitude.

They climbed into the limousine, keeping silent for the rest of the ride. Gwen looked far too happy about the reaction they had received at the announcement to fill up the peaceful silence. Arthur thanked them again as he left the car; watching it drive off to a distance.

He had been right. Everything was right. All the pieces were together. He felt like a character out of a story, where everything was perfect.

He frowned as the door wasn't opened for him, as it had been since forever.

He opened the door and walked in, then stopped. The perfection he had felt a while before seemed to disintegrate the moment he stepped in. He walked towards the stairs then stopped, turning to the scene he saw out of his peripheral vision.

His family, together for a change.

Actually, it wasn't just his current family, with Father, Mordred and Ewan, but Owain had joined them, and their Father didn't even seem to mind. Gaius was there, holding Hunith, who, he noticed strangely, was crying. Or laughing, but everyone seemed upset, so crying fitted more.

"Hey, everyone," he said, walking towards the group. "What's wrong?"

Hunith turned to him, tears still running down her cheeks. "Hunith?" he asked, all happiness disappearing.

"Mordred, what's going on?" The boy shook his head, face falling.

"Owain, what happened?" Owain looked at him and bit his lip, turning towards Ewan for comfort.

"Father?" he turned towards his Father, the only person who didn't look as upset as everyone else. The only one who would give him an answer.

"Arthur," his Father started. "Your friend, Merlin-" His Father faltered, and that more than anything scared Merlin. His Father did not falter, his Father never doubted himself.

"What about Merlin?" he only just registered the fact that everyone but Merlin was there.

"Your friend Merlin," his father had that expression that meant he was going to do something he didn't like. "He's dead."

And the pieces fell apart.

-|-

"He's dead. That place where you two play, in the forest, terribly dangerous, the roped there must have broken while he was moving across, so he fell into the water. The current must have been too strong for him to swim against or call for help…"

He's dead.

Arthur didn't hear anything beyond those words.

"He's dead?" he asked, voice breaking and hollow.

His Father looked at him, almost understandingly. "I am afraid so. I'm sorry, Arth-"

"Don't say it!" His Father was not sorry. "You're not sorry at all! You think I'd have been better off without him!"

"Arth-"

"Shut up! You just shut the fuck up!" He was yelling, and he knew he shouldn't be cursing in front of Mordred, but Mordred didn't matter –no one did more than Merlin.

"Arthur," Gaius tried. "Merlin's death was no fault of your father or yourself, it was merely a chance encounter."

"How could he have been so stupid, so fucking stupid, and so fucking selfish!" He spat the words in pure disgust.

Mordred stared at him sadly, confused –he had never seen his brother so… undone. "Arthur, Merlin didn't want to die," he said softly, the only thing he knew for a fact.

"Yes, he fucking was! I told him, I told him not to." He couldn't breathe. "I told him not to use the fucking rope! I told him the first time, don't use it, and the little idiot refused to listen to me!"

"Arthur," Owain stepped in, but Arthur was beyond listening to reason.

"He's so fucking selfish! He died, he died and-" Arthur fell to his knees. He realised he was crying, and there was no Merlin to wipe them away, "He fucking died and left me alone." He wrapped his arms around his knees, trembling violently, the tears crawling over his skin like a parasite that he wanted away, gone. "He didn't have to die! All he had to do was fucking listen to me." His voice was hoarse, taut with pain.

"Arthur," Hunith spoke for the first time. "Merlin… he- he-" she broke off. She didn't know what to say.

Arthur shook his head, not caring about the fact that his clothes were wrinkled, his hair a mess, his face streaked. None of it mattered anymore, nothing about the Pendragon legacy mattered, not school, or his fucked up social life, nothing. Not without Merlin there.

Merlin would never again be there next to him, talking without end, hair an unkempt piece of rubbish that he couldn't be bothered to put a brush too. He would never call Arthur a "Prat" and tease him about his Prince-ship. He would never be there with him, always there, his one constant was gone now, never smiling, or laughing, or poking, or kissing, or hugging, or just being.

"Oh God," he whispered, head covered by his knees, rocking in a childlike motion.

"Arthur," his Father walked closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. Arthur jerked away.

"Don't touch me." He looked up, eyes wild. "Don't- don't touch me." He pushed himself up, stumbling back before turning and running.

There couldn't be a Camelot without him. Nothing.

He was running.

My Mum told me the people who live there are these awful snobs.

The Merlin who had been the only person –the sole person in this whole place—who dared to insult and tease him, who dared to stand up against a Pendragon, who dared to befriend the snobs who lived in the palace, that Merlin, the only Merlin who would ever matter-

But what do you mean you fight all the time? What sort of brothers are you people?

So clueless, Merlin had been, always wondering, always asking, incessantly curious, never stopping to think then act, his exact opposite in that Merlin –Gods, Merlin—had never been to an etiquette lesson, would probably the ruin the thing by just being there, make it so much happier, so much better, so much more Merlin and so much less Pendragon, accepting all the Pendragons without question or thought, that Arthur had never been so glad to have a friend-

Oh, so this is all an effort to protect your family name and nothing whatsoever to do with your concern for me?

Merlin who hadn't minded being hit where most people would pull a lawyer against him, who just laughed at his worry and made jokes, but Merlin always knew that Arthur felt something more, didn't he? Surely Arthur must have told him some time that Merlin was Arthur's existence, that Merlin was Arthur's everything and that Arthur would never survive without him, didn't he-

I am not a softie; I just don't like people sticking any part of their anatomy at my body.

Merlin who could make Arthur laugh by just being Merlin, without thinking or doing anything, by just smiling or talking or whatever, but making Arthur feel happy and content and like the world wasn't about to break into the pieces like it did now, but without Merlin, it was, so he needed Merlin back, he needed Merlin back now-

It's not just yours, I'm like your own personal sorcerer, I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers.

The same Merlin who had created Camelot, they both knew that Arthur didn't, that was all Merlin, everybody would know it by just looking at them, but who had let him be Prince and make up his own words and delegate Merlin as servant, although Merlin didn't seem to mind then, he didn't mind, he couldn't have, he would have said something if he did-

I swear, Arthur, you're losing brain cells by the second.

God, Merlin.

Arthur snatched the doll, "He's supposed to be, he's a casualty of war."

"Aww," he cooed. "Arthur, I wouldn't have placed you to keep these."

He held up a few dolls in each hand, army figurines with well-worn clothes from being excessively played by one Arthur Pendragon during his younger years.

"Careful," Arthur said, plucking them from Merlin's hand. "You might break them."

"Arthur, this one's already broken," Merlin held out a soldier with a missing arm.

Arthur snatched the doll, "He's supposed to be, he's a casualty of war."

The Merlin who had accepted Arthur and all his idiosyncrasies.

"You, change this into a sword."

"It's supposed to be providing nutrients for the soil," Merlin recited. "And, how am I going to do that anyway, you prat?" Merlin said exasperatedly.

"You're the warlock, so hurry up." The blackness was nearing them, too quickly for it to be normal.

Merlin bit his lip, holding out a hand. He curled in two fingers.

"You're not Spiderman, you idiot," Arthur said in aghast.

"I don't know how to do this rubbish, it's not as easy as we make it look, you know."

"You haven't done anything yet," Arthur pointed out.

Merlin just glared. Then he looked at the branch again and his eyes flashed gold –nothing like Arthur had seen before, nothing that he could describe, a flash of colour that Arthur guessed was what pure gold looked like without human tampering, pure being the word he was looking for—and there was a sword in his hand.

Merlin smirked. "And you say I'm just a pretty face."

The Merlin who had always known just how to help Arthur.

"You idiot, I was worried."

"You also weren't listening," Merlin injected a small amount of hurt into his voice.

Arthur looked suitably apologetic, "Yes, but you talk far too much for me to listen to everything."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do."

"Arthur, I'm telling you, I don't."

"And as your honest and concerned friend I'm telling you that you talk far more than the average human being."

"Arthur…" Merlin sounded pleasant.

"Yes, Merlin?" Arthur smiled.

"Shut up."

"While I'm ahead-"

"For a change."

Arthur ignored the comment. "Never."

The Merlin who had never minded that Arthur treated him like total and utter crap.

"Why'd you do that?" Merlin asked.

"Your job, right?"

"What?" Merlin leaned on a palm, looking at him. Arthur tilted his head towards him.

"You're my servant. Your duty," he poked Merlin's chest with a finger, both to emphasize the point and see the reaction –Merlin squirmed and his face turned pink— "Is to make me, the Prince, happy."

"Oh," Merlin said. "So," he thought hard, "You liked it then."

Arthur laughed. "What do you think?"

"Well, I think it's a yes. But I've been wrong before."

"You've kissed someone before?" Arthur was surprised.

"Why, you think you're the first person to like me?" Merlin was avoiding the question, and Arthur stared at him calmly. "Well, no, but only because I didn't want to."

"So, I was your first kiss," Arthur said smugly.

"Shut up."

Merlin leant down to kiss him again.

The Merlin who had allowed him to be his first kiss, even though Arthur wasn't close to being worth it.

"I hate pictures," Merlin made a face, narrowly avoiding another hit. "And stop abusing me in my own house, Pendragon." He stuck out his tongue and walked over to where tubs of paint sat waiting. "I figure you can draw whatever you want, just don't make it too explicit, or too creepy, when you do."

"Aw," Arthur said mockingly, "Doe's Merlin get scared of the nasty monsters?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Bugger off. I don't like monsters," he said firmly, ending the conversation.

"Fine, then I'll stick with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and the Little Mermaid."

Merlin paused, "Too explicit."

Arthur laughed, "They're fairy tales."

"One woman and seven dwarfs," Merlin looked at him pointedly. "There is something so wrong about that picture. And The Little Mermaid is like the Disney version of porn."

"Really, I would think you'd like her."

"Her as in the mermaid or Disney in general?"

Arthur shrugged, "Both I guess. Very you. Or what I think you'd be when you were a kid."

"I think I did," Merlin searched for the word, "Different sort of things when I was a kid."

The Merlin who had thought that fairy tales were porn; so naïve and innocent and pure that Arthur felt like a fucked up pervert for just thinking of him in any way but straight.

"Gods, do you realise that we're having Ms. Nimueh now?"

"Yep," Merlin sounded far too happy. "She's nice to me."

"Favouritism."

"Hypocrite," Merlin accused lightly. "All the teachers love you."

"Except Ms. Nimueh," Arthur pointed out.

"Except Ms. Nimueh," Merlin conceded. "But you're awful at maths. And I'm wonderful at it."

"Show-off."

"Jerk."

"Arse."

"Prat."

"Idiot."

The Merlin who wasn't any more Merlin than Merlin could be when he was being himself; insulting him, teasing him, being with him, pulling one over him.

Arthur dropped to his knees.

It's my job. As a friend.

Arthur didn't have any more friends. Merlin had been everything he needed; his light, his saviour, his friend, his partner, his comfort, his joy, all wrapped into the package of one boy. One boy who wasn't doing his job of making him happy. One boy. One boy who had left him in this world -was this what it had felt like before Merlin? He would rather die—without anything by taking himself away.

His head hit his chest, shoulders wracking with the force of his sobs.

He forced himself to calm.

Breathe in; breathe out; Merlin; Merlin; Merlin; Merlin.

He felt the world crumble anew.

Why do you have to assume that I'll mess it up?

He heard something. But he hurt everywhere, everywhere, tight, sharp bites of his skin, harsh slaps against his face, hard hits against his back, everywhere, everywhere –as though all the pain he'd felt in all his years were back, together, a force in their entirety.

He saw blackness and tried to crawl into himself. The griffin was back. But Merlin wasn't here; he couldn't fight it without Merlin.

I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers.

But who was going to save his life now? There was no one, and he could hear the pounding of feet; could feel the reverberations in the ground; could see the approaching darkness; could taste the tangy bitterness of fear.

"I'm better or they are?"

"You."

He needed Merlin to live. Where was Merlin? It was approaching. Where was Merlin? It was too closer. Where was Merlin?

It touched him.

A hand on his shoulder and another on his back and a small body next to him.

He screamed, but nobody moved.

You.

He screamed again, a straining on his shoulder, and the body moved closer, but they stayed.

Where was Merlin? It might come back. Where was Merlin?

I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers.

He needed Merlin.

The body moved closer, and Arthur felt his body relax slightly, enfolded in some sort of warmth.

You.

The hand tightened, and another body lay hovering protectively over him. The hardness in his heart lightened.

You.

The other body on his left moved closer, and a head was leaning on his shoulder. He felt cocooned, less-

I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers.

The pain might never go away; Arthur realised, and almost screamed at it. Where was Merlin?

"He's gone, Arthur," Mordred said softly, in a tone to gentle to belong to a nine year old. Too wise; beyond his years. He didn't want his brother to live like that.

Arthur shook his head, "He can't be." He sounded lost; he was lost. "I-"

"Hey, Merlin, what's your last name?"

"What?"

"Your last name, I just realised I don't know it," Arthur frowned. "I mean, it's Merlin, and your Mum's Hunith, and Gaius is Gaius, so, what's your last name?"

Merlin gave another stare, and then answered with a smile, "Emrys, my last name is Emrys."

"Gods, I only learnt his last name today, Mordy, there's too much I don't know," Arthur said pleadingly. "I haven't found out. I don't know his favourite colour-"

"Yes, you do," Mordy rubbed his head. "You know it. He didn't need to tell you."

Arthur thought, "Red."

"See? You know a lot about Merlin, Arthur. And stuff like his favourite color, and his favourite drink, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that he knew you cared," Mordy insisted. "And he did. I know he did. And you- you have to know it too."

Arthur looked at his brother. "I- I never told him."

"You didn't have to tell him, Arthur. He knew it anyway." Mordy was confident, his eyes sparkling, almost the same shade as Merlin's he realised. A bright blue that captured attention, that sparkled with life –except now, it was alive and dead all at once—that reminded him too much of Merlin he felt himself cringe.

"You have to trust that he knew it," Mordy repeated.

I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers.

And he did.

-|-

He heard the door open, making a soft slide against the ground but otherwise not betraying the action. He didn't look at it; he ignored it. The only person he wanted to walk through that door couldn't. Never would again. His head moved closer against the bed.

"Arthur," his Father sat down next to him uncomfortably, "I think we need to talk."

Arthur ignored him, staring at the drawings scattered across the ground, the broken doll cradled in his arms, a red scarf tied around its neck.

I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers.

"Arthur, I understand that you are upset about your friend," his Father started. "But you have been in bed for the past three days, and Gaius tells me that you have yet to neither eat a single meal, nor have you left your room, nor have you spoken to your other friends who have been calling you insistentl-"

"I don't care about them," Arthur spat. "They're nothing compared to Merlin."

"Arthur," his Father frowned. "I understand that you are upset, but that does not call for your being rude to your other friends."

"Father," Arthur bit out. "No one, absolutely no one in the world, measures up to Merlin. No one."

His Father was losing the concern and gaining anger. "Arthur, the boy was important, but rotting in this room is going to send the wrong image to-"

"I don't give a damn about your image!" Arthur yelled, climbing out of bed to put distance between them. "He was important, you don't realise just how important!"

His Father stood up and glared at him icily. "I sincerely hope you do not mean that you are anything like my dead son."

"Yes, Father," Arthur smiled, a dead thing. "I'm a fag too. See, Father, ironic is it not? Two of your sons ending up gay," he smirked. "You never know, maybe I'll teach a thing or two to Mordy-"

His Father's face had been rapidly turning red, but at the sound of his youngest son's name, he snapped. "Get out of my house!"

"Glady," Arthur walked out, slamming the door behind him. He knew where he was going; it was the same place he always went. He couldn't cross the stream any longer, but the place itself calmed him down. He heard a rush of feet behind him and turned. "Mordy?"

"You fought with Father," Mordy looked at him with wide eyes.

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

"I- I heard some of it," Mordy swallowed loudly.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Arthur said, meaning it. Mordy was far too young to be thinking of such things.

"I wanted to know, I mean, why?"

"Why what?"

Mordy looked at him with helplessly wondering eyes. "Why's it so wrong to be –to be gay?"

Arthur looked at him, considering the question. "I don't know."

"I mean, it can't be that bad right? You're nice, and Owain's nice, and Merlin's –Merlin was nice," Arthur ignored the falter, "And, there are loads of straight people who aren't nice. So why's it wrong?"

"It's not," Arthur said.

"Then why does Father hate it?" Mordy asked.

"I don't know." Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

"There's got to be a reason, right? No one just hates for fun," Mordy said innocently.

"Well, I guess you're right. But I don't think we'll find out."

"Why? We're his children, if not us, then who?"

Someone cleared their throat politely. "Arthur, Mordred," Gaius started politely. "I too heard the argument. I am sure Hunith would be willing to lend you a room, Arthur," Gaius offered.

Merlin's room, probably, Arthur felt himself wince. "Thank you."

"And, as to your father," Gaius paused, as though wondering if he should continue. "He has not had the fortune of you boys, living in such an –an accepting world."

Arthur frowned. "That makes it sound like he's ga-"

"I will leave it to you to find out what it means," Gaius said quickly. "By accepting, I do not mean just of homosexuality, but rather love at all," Gaius ended with a sigh.

"Maybe they had a torrid affair as teenagers," Merlin said dramatically.

"Again, my Father. If you knew him, you'd know he wouldn't have affairs," Arthur tapped the pen against his cheek idly.

"You never know with a person, you know," Merlin insisted. "He could have done something as a child, stretched out over the years."

Merlin was right, maybe.

"But your Father," Gaius shook his head. "He does love you. Far more than he hates your sexuality. And, one day, he will realise it. I only ask that when that day arrives, you find it in yourself to forgive him."

Arthur stared at him. "Are you quoting something?"

Gaius smirked, looking astonishingly like Merlin that Arthur could almost imagine what he'd been like as a child. "I will leave you to find out that too." Gaius bowed at them and turned.

Mordy looked at their butler's retreating back. "That was weird."

"Well, something good's come out of this," Arthur smiled at him.

"What?"

"You get to figure out where he stole those lines from." Mordy laughed.

"I think he might have made it up," Mordy said. "He's freaky like that, Gaius is."

"Not that freaky, I hope." Arthur smiled at his brother, then held out his hand, "You want to come with me?"

Mordy bit his lip, and then shook his head, "Not now. But some day."

"Wise words for one so young."

"Now that," Mordy grinned again, "Is a quote."

"Why, aren't I freaky smart like Gaius?"

"Arthur, you'd be lucky if I called you smart," Mordy retorted, sticking out his tongue. He turned around, throwing a, "Bye," over his shoulder before he ran.

Arthur watched until his brother disappeared from sight before he walked deeper into the forest. He walked slowly, taking in the area, leaves turning red and gold, ground slightly sodden from the rain, air with an icy chill. Then he stopped abruptly. Something wasn't right.

It was a sound, soft to his ears, but he knew it was only because of the distance. It wasn't supposed to be here. His forest was his alone.

He walked towards it, picking up speed as it got louder. Closer, closer, closer, he saw flashes of yellow, heard the shouts of men, smelled the stench of machines.

Arthur stood a little away from the midst of it.

"Hey, Sean, what'cha think about the game?" a man shouted, covered in dirt and grime.

"Man, awful thro' for the last one, me wife kep' screamin' at me," another man said, yelled rather, to be heard over the noise. "Fuckin' annoyin'." He let out a loud laugh. "Fucker'll be the death of me, I tell ya."

The other men laughed. A black man, large and standing near the right, spoke up, "Damn right. Should'a seen the girl t'day, shoutin' and shoutin', no bloody end to it all."

"Ya can't beat m'ne," a short man, a dwarf Arthur thought they were called, "Teeny, but damn she shouts enough for the house ta come crashin'!" Everyone laughed again. Arthur didn't see the humor in insulting your wives, but obviously they thought otherwise.

"Ey, boy, who're ya?" a man shouted from the end. Everyone stopped to look at Arthur.

He stepped out slightly, bringing himself closer to them. He glanced at them coolly, looking ever the Pendragon.

One of the men nudged the other, saying in a stage whisper, "He's one of them Pendragons."

Everyone dropped their tools to step back politely, nodding at him. "Hello," he nodded to them. "I heard the noise. What're you doing?"

"Well, sir," the black man said, "We just doin' our jobs we're, been told to bring up some wood for them people in that other house," he tilted his head towards the direction of Bayard's place. "We'll be done real soon if it's causin' trouble for ya, sir. We don' wan' trouble." The man shook his head emphatically, and the others copied the movement.

"No trouble, sir," the dwarf mumbled.

"Very well," he nodded again, turning away. He looked around at the stacks of wood piled up, then paused.

I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers.

"Wait," he turned sharply. "Do you by any chance know how to make a bridge?"

-|-

"Mordy," Arthur whispered into his brother's ear. He poked the boy in the side, and he mumbled, pushing him off. "Mordy!" He poked him harder, hitting the side of his ribs. Mordy snapped awake.

"What?" he said, voice alert.

"I'm going to show you something, come on," Arthur stood up.

"Arthur, I was having a nap," Mordy whined, but he still stood up and followed him.

"Well, what I have to show is far more interesting, promise," Arthur said, pulling his brother. He listened at the door, and hearing nothing, slunk out, moving towards the steps silently. Mordy wisely kept silent, following him out of the door, where Gaius pretended not to see Arthur but nodded to Mordy.

Once they were outside, Mordy asked the obvious question. "How'd you get in? Father will kill you if he sees you."

"Exactly why I made friends with Gaius, little brother," Arthur ruffled his hair. "Now, hurry up. You won't believe how long it takes to make a simple thing these days. And the talking some people do, I mean, if you hate your wife so much, why marry her?"

Mordy blinked. "What?"

"Oh, never mind, just come."

Arthur slipped out of the gate, moving towards the forest.

Mordy jogged to follow him, and then started sprinting as Arthur ran. "Arthur? Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Mordy smiled at his brother. The last time he'd looked this happy was before- before It happened. He moved between the trees, and over the roots jutting out of the ground, and under the branches hanging over him. He moved with the birds that seemed to nuzzle Arthur in familiarity, the whole forest which seemed to be with Arthur like Mordred had never before imagined.

Arthur slowed to a stop, waiting for Mordred to stand beside him, before he walked towards the stream.

"Arthur," Mordred yelled before he could stop himself.

"Don't worry, come on," Arthur held out a hand. Mordred grabbed it and held it tightly. "Trust me." And Mordred did.

He walked over the stones, then let go of the hand.

"You- you-" Mordred couldn't speak.

There was a bridge. A long wooden structure, high above the water, thick enough to last for years. It was carved, creatures lining it that Mordred recognised from peeking into Arthur's private papers. And, at the top of it, almost exquisitely drawn –too perfect compared to what seemed to be the drab colours of the forest—a sign. One on which only one word was written.

Camelot.

"Camelot?" Mordred thought, recalling old stories about castles, and King Arthur, and magic, and Merlin, and a million other things. "Camelot."

"Do you see it?" Merlin said softly.

"Do you see it?" Arthur said softly.

"See what?" he asked, confused, and frustrated at the confusion.

"See what?" Mordred asked, confused, and frustrated at the confusion.

"Everything," Merlin smiled.

"Everything," Arthur smiled.

Mordred closed his eyes, and then opened them again.

And he saw.

"Merlin," he whispered at the sight, the life, the creatures, the castle, the animals, the people, the scent, the sounds, the sight, everything.

Arthur smiled again. "Exactly."

Mordred stepped onto the bridge, Arthur lagging behind. "You- You're Arthur? The King?"

Arthur shook his head, "The Prince who the people love more than the King."

"And Merlin?" Mordred knew Merlin was a part of it.

"My servant," Arthur grinned. "With magical powers."

"And me?" he asked.

"You," Arthur thought, "Can be a druid. Yes, you are a druid boy."

Mordred grinned. "Wicked."

"I don't think druids say wicked," Arthur commented dryly.

"This druid does," Mordred said, "Wicked."

Mordred walked forward, but Arthur hadn't stepped on yet.

"He's still here, isn't he?" Mordred said with a flash of inspiration.

I probably save your life every other day using my cool powers.

Arthur smiled. "Yes."

He stepped onto the bridge.

The End.

A/N: Hello everybody, since I know people still read the story here instead of LJ. After a few requests and quite a lot of thought, Mordred's age has been changed from 7 to 9, because both of the fact that 7 might be too young for his level of maturity, and I'm not sure whether the British school system allows for students of such a wide age range to be in the same school. I'm hoping it won't affect the fic too much, and I've left it unchanged at the LJ, it would feel too strange changing the original. (: