Merlin did not enter North Camden College with high hopes for success.

Intellectually he did just fine, in fact, he exceeded all expectations, and passed all examinations with scores enough to win him the complete scholarship; it was the rest of it that left him weak-kneed and tongue-tied. The whole 'making friends' bit. Because he'd only really had one friend in his life – not that there'd been a wide selection to choose from in his tiny home-town back in Wales – and he'd more stumbled across Will than actually befriended him.

With his familiar tattered backpack slung over one shoulder and the rest of his belongings supposedly already there, he arrived at the college.

The chauffeur-driven car had been a pleasant surprise at the bus station in town – one of the perks of being a scholarship student living in the next country over – but he felt awkward as he climbed out of the back-seat, leather seat squeaking beneath him, and staggering upright.

Did he say goodbye? Thank you? He didn't even know the man's name.

"Thank-" he began, twisting around to knock on the passenger side window, but his problem was solved by the car pulling away apropos of nothing, leaving him standing at the end of the long gravel drive at the front of the college with one hand extended awkwardly.

Dropping his arms, and turning to face the school, he swallowed against the constriction in his throat and gripped tightly on the straps of his pack.

Staring at the looming architecture of the ancient school, Merlin quashed his nerves and headed towards the front office.

The bell rang to signify the end of class and Arthur was out of the class before half of the others were even out of their seats. A harsh grin was curving his lips even as he strode confidently down the corridor: today was football practice and he fully intended in breaking in the new lad on the team before their latest match.

Leon and the rest had promised to meet up with him as soon as they could, but luckily his advanced corporate strategies class ended earlier than theirs, so he had an extra half-hour with the new boy before they arrived.

He was quicker than usual in the changing rooms, swapping his shirt, tie and trousers for the tracksuit pants and t-shirt that was standard-issue winter sportswear, and hurrying onto the field as soon as his trainers were laced.

Waiting for him were five or six of the usual team members and the new boy. He was gangly and nervous, but they were short on players during this time of year when replacements were so often needed.

"Hey Arthur!" one of the guys, Daniel, yelled, clapping him on the shoulder as he jogged over. The new kid looked nervous already, his eyes wide as he took in Arthur; broad-shouldered, golden-haired and with a cocky grin deserved of his notoriety.

"So, you're the new one, eh?" Arthur asked, sizing the boy up. He was tallish, with the capability of filling out, but if they didn't do something about his jumpiness he'd be ducking away every time the ball went near him. "What was your name again? Gary? Grant?"

"Gregory," he was quietly corrected, the boy's eyes flicking up and away.

"Ah, alright, Greg," he said, rubbing his hands together and ignoring him as the lad winced at the nickname. "Just watch us and do what we do."

The team (the few of them that were there) fell into their usual pre-practise routine of stretches and light jogging until they were limbered up and their heart rates quickened. Afterwards, one of the guys, Joseph, grabbed a football and kicked it over to Arthur at his request.

"Now, Greg," Arthur said, leading him towards the goal, "we're just gonna do some basics to see where you are with dodging, defending, tackling, etcetera, alright?" The boy nodded and stood awkwardly in the goal like he'd never taken the position before – maybe he never had. Arthur wanted to just dismiss him right then and there, but they couldn't really afford to have an empty spot if he or Leon got out of play.

It took only twenty minutes for Arthur to be relatively certain that the kid was both absolutely hopeless and lacking any potential for improvement.

He returned to the rest of the assembled team, vaguely annoyed that they were still waiting on Leon, Bors, Kay and the rest. It had been a long half-hour and Arthur never had much patience for useless dolts wasting his training time.

After a two minute break they resumed their positions: Gregory back in goal (the place he seemed to screw up the least, as dribbling and tackling were far beyond his capabilities) and Arthur and the lads were loosely assembled outside the box.

Arthur shared a brief look with the others and then he made a quick shot without warning. The ball slammed into the net a few inches from Gregory, who startled so much that he nearly fell on his ass. Behind him, Arthur heard the resounding laughter of his mates. With trembling hands, Gregory grabbed the ball and returned it to Arthur – although at least three metres off-target.

With irritating outweighing his slight guilt, Arthur took another shot without warning, this one just glancing off Gregory's thigh and causing him to hop backwards and tangle himself in the white netting behind him.

As Gregory returned the ball and Arthur lined up for a third shot he heard a calm voice call over the field, "Hey, come on, that's enough." Arthur near enough froze on the spot; slowly he turned to face the interrupter, someone standing just off the side of the pitch, his head tilted slightly to one side and a small patient smile on his lips.

"What?" Arthur demanded, taking slow steps towards the vacant-minded idiot interrupting his training. Who was this guy to come and tell him how to train his team? His face was unfamiliar, so clearly he was new, and by the looks of things he wasn't Camden's usual sort: dressed in casual jeans and a plain red shirt, with mussed dark hair and a slouching stance that spoke of little discipline.

"You've had your fun," the boy continued, even as Arthur approached.

"Do I know you?" Arthur asked, his tone deceivingly cordial.

"I doubt it," he replied, smile quirking into a lazy smirk.

"Then you don't know me either?" Arthur stated, his tone just cool enough to pass as a question.

"It would seem not," the boy returned, unabashed.

"Well my name's Arthur and I am the captain of this-" he broke off, his expression turning both incredulous and angry as the boy nearly doubled over in his sudden fit of laughter. "What the hell are you laughing at?" he yelled. The boy struggled to straighten, a hand pressed to his mouth, blue eyes dancing with humour as his torso shook with barely repressed laughter.

"It's just-…I'm sorry-…I-" he pulled his hand away to speak, but his words seemed to fall over each other in his attempt to speak resulting in unintelligible nonsense.

"Why were you laughing at me?" Arthur demanded.

"It's nothing," the boy insisted, finally managed to calm himself down until he was only smiling brightly.

"Tell me," Arthur said again, in the tone that brooked no argument. Even Morgana usually relented when he took that tone with her; it was his universal sign for I've-had-enough-just-get-to-the-damned-point.

The boy's smile widened, "Or what?" he asked.

Merlin knew it was a mistake, but he'd be damned if it didn't give him a rush of joy when Arthur's (and yes, that seemed to be his actual name, what were the chances?) face darkened and his body went taut.

"What did you say?"

"Or what?" Merlin repeated, enunciating as clearly as he could, as though Arthur was some child with hearing problems.

Arthur moved, but it seemed to happen in some lithe pulse of energy that lacked the time for full consideration. Merlin's arm came up automatically but Arthur easily knocked it aside, grabbing onto his wrist and twisted it behind his back in one movement.

They stood like that for a moment: Arthur an angry presence at Merlin's back, pushing just hard enough for a slight throbbing pain to beat through Merlin's arm.

"I don't like your chances," Arthur growled, and even Merlin's smile dropped to be replaced by a tight-lipped annoyance.

"Who'd you think you are to assault random students?" Merlin muttered. "A prince?"

"Not quite," Arthur corrected, "the headmaster's son."

It was barely the end of Merlin's first afternoon and he'd already made an enemy of the most influential student on campus. He felt that more or less summed up his chances of finding peace in the school.

"It could've been worse," he muttered to himself as he walked up the second flight of stairs in the residential building.

And while technically it was true that it could've been worse, Merlin was just relieved that it wasn't. Getting reprimanded on his first day would not set a good precedent, although he'd taken Arthur's determined warning of 'Don't come near me or next time I'll make it serious' to heart.

Either way, there was only one thing he truly, desperately wanted in that moment: for him to at least have a reasonably tolerable room-mate. They'd be sharing for at least the rest of the semester – and longer if Merlin decided he wanted to continue his education at Camden past that time – so he really hoped he wouldn't be stuck with some tosser that he'd hate.

Standing in the doorway, looking at the little bronze numberplate, he felt suddenly unsure.

Absurdly, he decided it might be appropriate to knock first – it might be his room now, but who knew what his room-mate might be doing in there?

There was a slow moment where nothing happened and Merlin promised himself that if he didn't get an answer he'd just take out his own key and-

The door swung open to a vaguely Latino and highly attractive youth standing in the doorway, his brown eyes slightly unfocused and his similarly brown hair tousled enough to rival even Merlin's dark messy mop. "Yes?" he asked, sounding more tired than Merlin felt.

"My, uh, name's Merlin?" he said more of a question than a statement, and immediately the boy's face lit into a smile.

"Come in, come in," he said, voice bright, ushering Merlin inside, a hand at his back guiding him inside as he shut the door with a quiet click. The right side of the room belonged to Merlin, though each side appeared to be mirrored in what they contained: a single bed, pushed against the wall, a chest of draws and a closet. At the end of the room in the centre was a window, and beneath it was a long low bookshelf, mostly empty except for a few titles piled messily in the top left.

"I'm Lance," his room-mate said by way of introduction, "I've been at Camden for about half a year." He sat on his bed, the covers pulled messily back like Merlin had woken him up. Actually, from the looks of things, that's exactly what he'd done. Merlin had to glance at the well-lit window just to prove to himself that, yes, it was still only four thirty in the afternoon. "I was curious when I saw all the books," Lance added, nodding to one of several cardboard boxes await Merlin beside his bed, one of them opened slightly.

"You went through my things?" Merlin asked, confused and a little annoyed.

"'Course not!" Lance snapped back, his smile still jovial and a tad cheeky, "I just had to see if you were going to be one of those sleaze balls bringing girls back to the room. Actually, I thought you were gonna be a bit nerd when I saw the books – not that that's a problem but…" he shrugged, trailing off and gesturing at Merlin, "I don't know quite what to make of you."

"Yeah, well," Merlin offered with a shrug of his own, "I'm not much of anything."

Lance's crooked smile was reassuring and kind, "Just give it some time. With a name like Merlin, it seems like fate that you'd end up at Camelot."

"But isn't this-?"

"Officially called Camden College, yes," Lance chuckled, "but with a headmaster with the name Uther Pendragon and his son Arthur we could hardly pass up a chance at such a befitting title."

"Seriously?" Merlin asked, an eyebrow arching. "Pendragon? That's pretty odd."

"Yeah, they go way back," Lance agreed, "probably some royal blood in there somewhere. Although Emrys isn't exactly a common surname either."

"It's Welsh."

"Ah. That explains the accent."