Hi! Shooting Blindly here. So this is my first fan fiction, and i dont have a beta, so please forgive any typos or mistakes or things like that. Repetition is my arch-nemesis as a writer, so forgive me if there's a little of that too. Other than that, enjoy! Please review, i like to know what you think, and the base of my writing is constructive criticism. Cover image not mine. Thank you!

Chapter One: Le Vilain Jour

"So… who's going to take care of Cam, then?" Arthur Pendragon asked. There was silence on the end of the line for a moment.

"Arthur. I just told you that your father is de – your father passed away, and the first thing you want to know is who's taking care of the company?" came the stunned reply. Arthur nodded before remembering that Leon couldn't see him.

"Yes."

"Aren't you upset?"

"Yes, Leon, I'm upset. My father is dead. Why wouldn't I be upset?" Arthur could hear the frown in Leon's voice when he answered.

"It's not really my place to say."

"Look, Leon. You've been working with my dad for how many years now? Ten, eleven?" Arthur guessed.

"Yeah, almost eleven now, actually," replied Leon.

"Ok, well then you of all people should know that even though he was a shitty dad and he never spent more time with me than he had to, he was still my dad." Arthur said firmly. "And since I love him so much, I think I should be concerned about taking care of what he loved the most: Cam. So, I ask again. Who is taking care of her?" Leon sighed.

"Mr. Pendragon's will says that he wants you to take care of Cam, so right now, she's is in your hands."

"Ok, well, I'm not going to take care of her till I finish school. That is completely out of the question." Arthur rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm. "For now, I leave here in your hands. Get my sister to help out. She was first born anyways. By all rights, she would get Cam, but my father is stuck in the middle ages." Uther always said, Camelot needs a king, not a queen, Arthur. She needs to be guided with a firm and gentle hand, not a loose-fingered grip.

"Alright. I'll see if I can get in touch with her. Last I heard, she was gallivanting off to India to go on some spiritual retreat. No human contact for ten days, at least."

"If she comes out alive, let me know. Keep me updated on how Cam is doing, and if things get rough, I'll try and help out as much as I can. Bye, Leon." Arthur hung up before Leon could reply, tossing his phone to the side, not really caring where it landed. There was a sound like cracking glass, and Arthur sighed: he just cracked the screen of his iPhone.

Whatever, he thought. I can get a new one. Arthur flopped down onto one his bed and huffed out a breath. He felt strangely numb, as if he hadn't fully comprehended the weight of the situation. Maybe he would feel his father's absence more after the funeral. He hadn't bothered to ask when it was, but Leon would let him know as soon as the arrangements had been made.

He rolled over onto his side, staring at the white walls of his room.

Uther was never the best father, just as he had told Leon, and he rarely made time to see his son. Uther didn't have time for anything except Cam, his pseudo-wife. If Arthur was lucky, then he would receive a gift on his birthday, or after doing something that would make any parent proud. Other than that, the only evidence he had that Uther was his father was his bank balance.

Shaking his head, Arthur got up. He had first term exams coming up soon. He couldn't afford to get all depressed thinking about how his father treated him.

A walk will clear my mind, he thought. He grabbed the nearest item of clothing he could find – a scarf – and walked out of his room, locking the door and wrapping the scarf around his neck in one fluid motion.

As it turns out, he was right. As soon as he got outside, the cold became all that he could think about, as intense as it was. His breath made little clouds of condensation that hung in the air before slowly drifting up and away.

He walked between the limestone buildings of the campus, keeping to the main road, where the ice and snow had been cleared and salted. He thanked every deity he could think of that he had been wearing a sweatshirt already, and cursing the very same deities that he couldn't have taken a hat. Still, the scarf was warm as he pulled it up to cover his nose and ears.

The snow crunched and the salt crackled under his feet. The cold slowly seeped through his clothes, aided by the wind that ripped at his exposed skin.

And through it all, he remained blissfully, gloriously numb.

When the first hail pellet his him directly on the nose, it was his cue to get inside.

Finally looking up and around him, he noticed that it was dark and he was nowhere near his dorm. He ended up somewhere downtown, in a corner that he hadn't had the chance to explore in warmer, more pleasant weather.

"Shit," he muttered. A quick scan of the area told him that most of the shops were closed, except a tiny store with dusty windows that was sandwiched between two much larger, much cleaner looking buildings.

Sighing at his luck, Arthur tugged at his scarf and headed towards the shop.

Despite outward appearances, the inside of the shop was warm and smelled sweet. All sorts of paintings hung on the wall, and the only spot that wasn't dominated by swirling colours on canvas was covered by a menu of all kinds of drinks. Much to Arthur's dismay, none of these drinks seemed to be alcoholic, which would have been perfect to keep up the numbness of the cold. No, most of them were tea, a hot soothing drink that would thaw the ice that had metastasized in his bones.

As he read over the menu, a curtain behind the counter was pushed aside by a young man.

"Gaius, I don't think anyone else will be in today, so we can just close up," he yelled. There was an affirmative grunt, and the young man nodded, pleased, and turned to face Arthur. "Oh. Hello. Uh… what are you doing here? I mean what can I help you with?"

"I don't know. I've never been here before. I only came in cause it was the only place open and its starting to hail out there," Arthur replied sullenly.

"Ok, well, sorry. It's not my fault you ended up here," replied the young man. He moved around the counter, and Arthur got a better look at him. He was in socks, having vetoes shoes despite the inclement weather. Sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he wore a black shirt that said "FREE SHRUGS" in thick white letters. A blue apron with stains all over it was tied to his waist, though it didn't cover his shirt. Eyes three shades darker than Arthur's own stared back at him, and scruffy black hair sat on his head. And the picture was completed by –

"You have the most ridiculous ears I have ever seen," said Arthur, the words slipping out before he found the will to stop them. The boy frowned.

"I'm going to ignore that comment in favor of asking you what you'd like to drink. You certainly look posh enough to be able to afford anything here," said the boy with a scoff, as if being rich was a bad thing. Arthur scowled and looked up at the menu.

"What the hell is a cruncher?" he asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Oh, you don't want that. That's only for people with digestion problems. Nasty drink, with nasty side effects for the healthy."

"Then why do you sell it?"

"Because we don't only sell to the healthy," the boy said with a look. "Not everyone is in top shape and excellent health like you, you prat. Have some consideration for the less fortunate." Arthur puffed out his chest.

"Look here, you moron. I am Arthur Pendragon, and you will treat me with all the respect I deserve. I have had a shitty day, and now I'm stuck in here with an idiot like you until the hail stops."

"In little run-down shops like this, your name means nothing your highness, so try and pretend you know how to deal with commoners like myself." He pointed to a drink on the menu. "This here is what you need. A nice calming tea." Before Arthur could protest, the boy was already grabbing ingredients for the tea and setting the water to boil. While the boy ground some dried herbs, Arthur sat down and pretended to be comfortable on the small, cushion-less chairs in the room. "As for the respect you deserve, unless you can prove me wrong, I am paying you exactly that much."

The kettle screamed its approval, and the boy turned off the stove and dropped the herbs in the boiled water. He grabbed a white paper cup, sat down in front of Arthur, produced a black sharpie from his apron, and proceeded to draw lines on the cup.

"So what is the famous Arthur Pendragon doing in a dump like this?" he asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow. Arthur scowled.

"Shitty day, shitty luck," he replied simply. The boy didn't reply, just continued to scribble on the cup.

A couple minutes later, he put the cup down, capped his marker, and went to go get the kettle. Arthur picked up the cup and began to examine it.

Against the thick, white paper was a forest of birch branches, drawn in exquisite detail and mesmerizing perfection. As Arthur ran his hands over the designs, he could have sworn he felt the texture of the bark underneath his fingertips, feel the chill of the snow that rested on the trees.

"Like it?" asked the boy. Arthur nodded mutely. The boy smiled. "Not one of my best, but you're acting like a prat. You don't deserve my best, yet." Arthur glared, and, accompanied by an amused grin, the boy picked the cup from Arthur's hands and filled it with a steaming, pinkish-brown liquid. "Ignore the horrendous colour. The taste is godly. But careful, it's hot."

Arthur lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. The tasted was, indeed, godly. It was a sweet, honey flavour, and tasted like the smell of pine trees. Arthur decided to forgo to warning about the tea's temperature, and instead decided to drink it as quickly as possible.

As soon as he had finished, Arthur felt more relaxed, and some of the numbness gave way to fuzziness.

"Hey, um…" Arthur paused.

"Merlin," the boy supplied. Arthur suppressed a comment about the name and continued.

"Merlin. I'll be needing some more of that tea." Merlin grinned toothily, and turned to his herbs.

Arthur looked out the window and noticed that the hail had stopped. Merlin followed his line of sight.

"Yeah, it stopped quickly. Lucky. It seems the rest of the world bends at your will," he commented. "Even if I don't," he added with a cheeky grin. Arthur grumbled and gathered himself, placing a twenty on the table.

"Thanks very much for the tea." He walked towards the door.

"Sire!" Merlin called. "You forgot your tea." He tossed a little cloth bag at Arthur. He caught it in one hand and took a whiff. It smelled like the tea Merlin had given him earlier. He smiled and left, the tea keeping him warm the whole way home.