Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

I wrote this for NaNoWriMo 2012, based off a prompt on MKM :)

This is unbeta'd for the moment, so I apologise for any mistakes.

Let me know what you think :D


Two

Voices floated from somewhere in the distance, getting closer, and in a panic, Merlin shut the door firmly. He swallowed and watched the shadows of the room as he fumbled with the light switch. It flickered into life instantly and Merlin watched as the blackness retreated from the corners.

He shifted from foot to foot for a moment, not entirely sure of what he should do now. He had some alone time, the first of its kind since everything had happened, and well, he wasn't sure whether he liked. Before, he'd always loved his alone time. With a overprotective father and hovering mother, and then Uncle Gaius, who was always asking him to help create some healing potion or collect some herbs from the woods across the street from their house, being alone in his room had given him the chance to just think, without interruptions. To get on with homework or his writing or practise spells from his father's old magic book. But now, he would prefer anything but being alone right now. For a moment, he debated leaving the room and just taking a walk around the campus, maybe finding Mordred again because, although a little strange, he was better than no one at all, but he suppressed the urge.

Instead, he took hesitant steps towards what would be his bed. He thought about going through his suitcases, seeing what had been brought for him, but the thought made him feel a little uneasy so he just dragged the cases from on top of the mattress and hid them quickly beneath the bed frame, where he didn't have to look at them just yet. His satchel and welcome kit was dropped carelessly at the foot of his bed, and Merlin filled the space at the head of the bed. His back rested against the surprisingly soft pillow (although, now that he thought about it, was he really surprised by this?) and he pulled his legs up to his chest, taking up as little space as possible. His chin rested on top of his knees and his eyes scanned the opposite side of the room, taking in the door which mostly likely led to the shared bathroom, and the large window that overlooked his bed. Although winter was nearly upon them, streams of sunlight reflected through the glass and highlighted the edges of his bag, and the papers within that had fallen out in a haphazard fashion. The file caught his eye.

He bit his bottom lip. The file, the one that contains everything he needed to know about his new life. About Alex Vhalos. He hadn't wanted to open it when he first received it, knowing it would make everything that had happened, the subject of his nightmares, seem more real. But he had to read it, didn't he? It was "essential to his safety", isn't that what Cohen had said? He couldn't just ignore it; that would be stupid of him. At least, that's what he told his reluctant side when he reached across the length of the bed to roughly pull the wad of papers from within his bag.

Now with the file rested in his lap, he hesitated. Long fingers tapped an unknown beat across the brown cardboard, before one hand slid to the edges, fingering the slide for a moment, before he forced himself to just open it. He took in a shaky breath, splayed hands hiding the writing from view, before he slowly removed it and read.

Name: Alex Vhalos

Age: 16

Birthday: November 13th 1996

Parents: Rae Young (36) and Avain Vhalos (38)

Parents Occupation: Mother non-magical doctor, recently deceased, car accident; Father head of the Protection of Magical Children department of government.

Siblings: Half brother - Mordred Vhalos (18)

Magical Abilities: No

Blood Type: O-

Allergies: Peanuts and Lavender

Merlin arched an eyebrow. Well, they certainly weren't kidding when Cohen said they had considered everything.

Lived with Mother until untimely death. Social services got in contact with Father, who took him in and placed him into private boarding school, Camelot Academy, with his older brother, under an English scholarship. Has had one or two romantic relationship, neither which were considered serious. Grew up homeschooled and a little isolated from society, meaning he has anxiety in social situations.

Merlin wasn't entirely sure what they meant by that.

Has one a few awards for writing, usually ones of fantasy, and even had one poem about a dragon posted in a children's magazine.

Well, Merlin mused, at least something's have stayed the same.

Attached to the back of the paper, was a picture. A photocopy, he guessed, of Mordred as a child, probably around five or six, and his father. He assumed it was his father anyway. The boys in the photograph looked too alike to be anything other than father and son. Both were grinning wildly up at the camera, all filled with happiness and excitement and Merlin didn't need to know them to know that this was a father who loved his son unconditionally and vice versa.

He had a photo similar, taken by his mother one summer about eight years ago, with him and his father. Hunith had decided that it was too much of a nice day to waste it inside and had packed up a picnic basket with everyone's favourites – little ham and cheese sandwiches, pickled onions, hula hoop crisps (Merlin's personal favourite) and a wild berry pavola that she had chilling in the fridge – and the mother, father and son combination had taken to the woods. There was a clearing, not far in, that he had played make believe in as a child with the neighbours kids, and they spent the afternoon there, just basking in the sunlight, messing around, laughing and joking; generally just having a good time. Balinor had taught him a new spell, one that allowed him to lift off the ground and fly through the sky. Hunith had worried the whole time but Merlin, he'd found it all exhilarating.

A lump formed in his throat at the memory and he had to quickly put the image aside, afraid he would fall into a sobbing mess.

The rest of the folder contained random snippets of a life that wasn't his own. There were certificates that stated his achievement in writing; some official, like the ones that stated his winning of the 2002 children's short story competitions, some not, like a hand decorated award with cursive writing that applauded Alex's triumph in public speaking or in getting 100% on a math's test, all signed by Rae Young. He also found the birth certificate that Cohen had spoken about. He flicked through those pages mindlessly, vaguely taking in the information and the meanings behind each other, but for the most part, he barely looked at one page for more than a few seconds.

And the last page caught his attention. He paused, his fingers hovering over the paper. It was a note written in blue ink, from Cohen. A paperclip clutched the top right corner, holding something in place. His eyes scanned with writing quickly.

Merlin,

This is unprofessional of me, to take something from a crime scene, but it seemed to me that you would need this. If you can't have the real things, then this will have to do. I hope it brings you some kind of comfort.

Andrew

Confused, Merlin reached with shaking hands for his gift, a remembrance of home. What it was before it was marred with blood and death and violence. His heart sped up with anticipation. It was a photograph, one of the many that his mother had lovingly hung in their home that had everybody he loved dearly within it. Three year old Merlin Emrys – not Alex Vhalos - grinned with childish excitement around a mask of pink icing up at the camera, cuddled close by his family. Balinor had been holding him up, propping him against his hip. Hunith had been standing at his side, a napkin in her hand, ready to wipe away the muck that painted his little face, whilst Uncle Gaius, his partner in crime, as trying to feed him more cake. Even now, he could hear the sound of his mother scolding her brother for letting Merlin get away with anything he wanted, but her heart was never in it. He wasn't sure who had taken it – he'd never asked. He hadn't seemed important at the time, but now, nothing seemed more. It was just a snap, a brief flash of what his life was once like, and it made his heart hang heavy with longing.

How he wished he could go back to those days. When he would get picked up from school by his uncle, fresh from visiting his patients around the little village, and taken home to his mother, who would have prepared cakes or biscuits or sweet breads or any other manner of treats for when he got home. And he'd help his uncle tend to the garden, and his mother would help him with his homework. And, when it was bedtime, and his father got home from work, he'd curl up against his father's stomach, using his growing beard as a pillow, and fall asleep to whatever story they'd begun reading that week. Merlin didn't want to admit how much he'd taken those times from granted, even if they were so long ago.

Chief Inspector Cohen was right. A picture could never compare to the real things, to the people they were, but if he couldn't be with them, an image and the warm memories that come with it…they would have to be enough.

He closed the folder and tucked it under the mattress, making sure that it wouldn't be found, before he relaxed into the bed, photo in hand. He laid there in silence, just staring at this image, tracing the outlines of their faces, of their smiles, trying to remember the good times and, as his eyes began to get heavy, maybe he hoped they would be enough to stave of the nights of restless sleep, at least for now.


"I mean, really, I don't even know who this kid is. He could have problems, you know? Like anger issues, or violent tendencies or something. He could be a danger to this school and to me. And father won't tell me about him. Every time I ask, he just says that this kid has been through a lot and that I should 'be gentle' with him. What does that even mean?" Arthur complained loudly, as he kicked the ball towards Leon.

"Um, maybe it means that you shouldn't act like your arrogant self?" he suggested with an amused grin, shifting the ball between his feet to pass it alone to Lance, who stopped it easily with a firm press of his foot on the top of the ball. Arthur shot him a frustrated glance and he sighed heavily, "Seriously Arthur, all you've spoken about for the past few weeks is about your new roommate. It's really not as bad as you're making it sound." He tried to assure.

"Yeah, and how to do know that?"

"Um, because you're dad would never let you room with a guy who's likely to kill you in your sleep?" Gwaine offered.

"And besides," Lance continued, "I met him this morning. Alex Vhalos, Mordred's little brother."

"So what's he like?" Leon wondered.

Lance shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I only spoke to him for a few minutes, just enough to show him to his new room –"

"My room!" Arthur interjected, but was ignored.

"-but he seems nice enough. A little quiet and shy, I think, maybe because it's a new school. I liked him," he announced, "Arthur's just being a wuss about it."

"I am not being a wuss," the blond objected.

Gwaine snorted. "Dude, it does sound as if you're being one."

"I'm not! I'm just…cautious, that's all," Arthur defended himself.

"Whatever you say Princess," Gwaine brushed him off disbelievingly.

"Alex is a good kid. At least give him a chance before you pull your mightier-than-thou arsehole routine, okay?" Lance insisted.

Arthur looked like he wanted to argue again, offended by the insinuation, but held his tongue. It was probably for the best anyway, he told himself. His friends weren't exactly sympathetic to his strives and, yeah, okay, so maybe he's a little more invested (not obsessed, regardless of what Morgana claims) than he would normal be with a new student, but in the past, new students have never become his roommates. He liked his space. He'd grown used to it. Forgive him for not liking the sudden announcement he was going to have to share it once more.

But it was more than that. Since Caleb had left, no other new student had been assigned to be his roommate, and there had been four late comers to Camelot Academy since then. Uther was always happy to have them placed in different rooms, except for this kid. There had to be something more to it than was on the surface and every time he asked about it (and he had asked a few times), his father just gave him this look that told him to drop the subject. And not the normal 'I can't handle this conversation anymore, you're annoying me, please stop talking' look that he had been on the receiving end of many times before. This one was more of an 'I can't tell you anything, not because I don't want to but because I can't, so please drop the subject' look. If anything, he made him more suspicious, more desperate to get information.

Because there was something; something important about this Alex Vhalos (and not that he was Mordred's little brother, which made him even less of a trustworthy person in his books). And I will find out what it is, he vowed to himself.

"Arthur?" Lance's voice ripped him from his thoughts and he jerked violently, blinking surprised. His friend peered at him worriedly.

"Huh?"

"Be nice to Alex, okay?" Lance ordered firmly.

Arthur faked a wide, friendly smile. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Gwaine shuddered overdramatically. "God, don't do that. It's like the Joker plotting to kill Batman."

He scowled darkly. "Just kick the ball," he demanded, ignoring the snickering of his so-called friends.

Coach Jonas was a slave driver, Arthur decided a few hours later as he trudged sluggishly up the staircase to his room. After the quick warm up, they'd been told to line up and try to get a goal around Percy, the best goal keeper in the league. Those who failed had to do suicide runs. Arthur, who had barely scrapped a goal and Gwaine were the only ones that succeeded (although Arthur suspected that Percy went a little easy on his boyfriend of four weeks now). Still, Jonas had insisted that at least Arthur participate in the runs – to "boost morale" he had claimed.

So he had, however reluctantly. Now, he could barely feel his feet – felt the need to watch them to make sure they were still there. He was sweaty and smelling, his body ached and the need to sleep was overpowered only by the need to eat. All he wanted to do was shower and maybe get some feeling back into his legs before he had to make his way back down the stairs to the main hall.

Arthur clicked his door open with a tired swipe of his fob, and pulled to a sudden halt when he saw the lights shining above him. He frowned. He was certain he had turned that off before he had left that morning. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, and an unknown figure caught his eye on the usually empty bed. His frowned deepened. With all the aches of football practise, he'd forgotten about the unwanted arrival.

He dropped his bags to the floor with a loud clatter, more than hoping that it would jerk the kid awake and was a little disappointed when he didn't. He eyed the slumbering figure with distain and couldn't help taking a curious step forward for a closer look.

His new roommate – Alex – was all angles and sharp edges, each one catching the fluorescent light above. Slightly curly black hair hung across alabaster skin and curved around the one strangely large ear that he could see. His eyes were completely closed in slumber – not like Caleb, who he had discovered on terrifying night slept with his eyes open – and long black eyelashes rested delicately on his cheekbones. His lips, rosy red and a little bitten, were parted, stirring the fabric of the pillow beneath his head with every breath. He looked…almost angelic. Arthur quickly shook the thought from his mind.

Alex sniffed in his sleep and rolled towards Arthur. He froze in place, eyes wide, and watched as an expression of distress crossed his face. From this position, he could see the redness around his eyes, and the drying tear tracks on his cheeks. In his hand, in a white-knuckled grip, he clutched something to his chest – a piece of paper, Arthur guessed, or a picture; maybe of his deceased mother.

Automatically, Arthur felt as if he was intruding and he took a long step back. On the bed, Alex whimpered and curled into himself. He watched him for a little longer, before retreating into the bathroom.

He was in desperate need of a shower.


Merlin jerked awake violently, nearly rolling off the side of his bed, panting heavily as his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. He looked frantically around the room in front of him, and fear lurched within him at the unknown figure standing over him. For a moment, he was back there. Back with his nightmares, with those horrible memories. It took a moment for him to realise exactly where he was.

The man standing over him – probably Arthur, he guessed, now with a clearer mind – was, well, gorgeous for lack of better word. Blond hair, still damp, hung in messy waves to just above his board shoulders. Wide blue eyes, like the sea at the beach in Spain Merlin had visited once a few years back, stared down at him through a frame of blond eyelashes.

They stared at each other wide eyed for a moment, neither moving, and Merlin nervously licked his bottom lip. He swore, even if it was just for a moment, that Arthur followed the line of his tongue.

And then Arthur's pink lips pulled into a sneer, his features hardening, his eyes burning with contempt, and suddenly he wasn't so attractive anymore.

"Get up;" he stated, a harsh edge to his voice, "It's time for dinner."

Well that was rude, Merlin mentally scowled. He sighed heavily, sitting up slowly. His hand pressed against the bed covers in assistance and something poked sharply into the soft skin of his palm. Alarm hit him almost as soon as the memory did, and he frenetically tried to smooth the crumbled image in his hand. It was creased but not completely ruined, he was pleased to note, letting out a small breath of relief. He was stopped for a moment, needing to take in their happy faces one more time.

Arthur watched the reaction in the reflection in the mirror. The relief that crossed Alex's face, so intense, sparked curiosity within him and for a moment, he thought about asking about it. But something told him it was personal, too personal to share with someone he had just met.

"Be nice," Lance's words echoed back to him and he took in a resolved sigh. Lance had a way of saying things that made you just want to obey what he says and Arthur, even after six years of friendship, had never worked out the secret to ignoring the order. And Gwen refused to share her secret. So he'd be nice, he'd try to be nice.

"You should hurry up," Arthur insisted softly, using his best 'I'm only trying to help' voice, "Dinner has already started."

Merlin blinked in surprise. Okay, that was a massive mood swing – Arthur seemed almost…pleasant. He thought about questioning it, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, he nodded in understanding and pushing himself onto his feet, quickly folding the photograph into quarters, carefully putting the only thing he had from Merlin Emrys into his jean pockets. He awkwardly straightened his sleep-addled clothes. He sat down and slide on his converses, purposely ignoring the overconfident figure of his new roommate at the other end of the room that seemed to take up all the remaining space in the area. He wondered whether there was really any space for him here. Merlin ran a hand through his hair, attempting to straighten the now knotted locks. Arthur moved purposely towards the door, with wide strides, and Merlin stood up quickly, looking at the blond expectantly.

Arthur paused as he made to move out the door. He gave him the once over, dragging is eyes over Merlin's wiry frame as if he were judging him for something, and Merlin shifted awkwardly under the attention. He inclined his head, as if silently beckoning him forward, before leaving and Merlin hurriedly followed. He stopped only to make sure that the door was closed properly, waiting for the resound click he had heard early.

He wasn't sure what to make of Arthur. First, he'd seemed like an arse, and then it was as if he were a completely different person. Maybe it was a different person – could alien's snatch bodies that quickly? He'd have to check. He still couldn't understand the initial hostility. They had never met before, hadn't even had a proper introduction now, and yet he had acted as if Merlin was no better than the scum on the bottom of his shoes. And then he had changed – he could have realised his mistakes, Merlin guessed, for treating a stranger so harshly but he supposed the more likely option was he'd remembered Lance's words – the man had said he'd talk to his friend. But even now, he was a few flights of stairs ahead of him, seemingly with no intention of slowing down to allow Merlin to catch up. Maybe he has PMS or something? Merlin mentally chuckled at the thought.

He wanted to ask about it, point out the hot-cold attitude that Arthur was conducting himself in, but the very thought of a confrontation made his chest tightening painfully and panic rise. Before, maybe he would have, but now…no, he would keep his thoughts to himself, at least for now. He wasn't sure whether he could take this for a whole year.

The main hall was this huge space with dark brown, vanished floorings and rows and rows of matching tables. Hanging lights, like chandeliers, brightened the space. Students, most still dressed in their uniforms, sat around the tables, leaning close to chat with each other or bowing their heads to focus on the food in front of them – Haddock and baked potatoes, Merlin recognised as he passed one table. He supposed schools that this would only have the best. The parents paid enough for it. Arthur veered off in the direction of the food counter and Merlin hurried to follow him. He mimicked his actions, collecting a tray as he joined the line and he muttered a thank you when the dinner lady handed over the plate.

At the end of the line, he stood awkwardly, having lost sight of Arthur as he fumbled with his knife and fork, at a loss of where to go, until Lance at the far end of the room appeared above the heads of the seated students, calling his name and waving him over. The tension dropped from his shoulders slightly and he made his way over to the familiar face, only slowing when he reached the table and the faces of people he didn't know looked away from their food to eye him curiously. Arthur barely looked up from where he was sitting, instead focusing on shoving food into his mouth.

Lance moved over on the bench and tapped the space created beside him. He smiled warmly. "Come on Alex, before the food gets cold."

"Oh, um, y-yes," Merlin agreed and tentatively took the seat, settling the tray in front of him. His hands dropped to his lap and he offered a shy smile to the rest of the table.

Lance clapped a warm hand on his shoulder, welcoming and comforting in comparison to the icy reception from his new roommate. "Guys, this is Alex Vhalos, he's a new student here. Alex, these are my friends. They'll help take care of you when I'm not around. This is Gwen, my girlfriend, and her brother, Elyan-"

Gwen smiled sweetly at him, leaning over her boyfriend to wave and mouth the words 'hello' to him. Her manner eluded something maternal and kind that made Merlin relax and he smiled in return. She was still wearing her uniform, shirt tucked into her skirt, and long curly brown hair hung over her shoulder, framing her heart shaped face. Elyan looked a lot like her sister, with the same dark hair on the top of his head and dark brown eyes. His demeanour was similar, welcoming, but much more interested in the food in front of him than actually meeting a new person. Merlin found it a relief of pressure to not have all the attention focused on him, yet not a blatant disregard like Arthur was currently showing.

"-Leon and Morgana, Arthur's sister-"

Leon's smile was polite, through a mouthful of fish, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, his long fingers running through the ends of his reddish brown curls. The facial hair, seeming to still be growing, that framed his face seemed to make him look older than the others around him.

Morgana was the complete opposite to Leon beside her. Long black hair braided with gold bands hung down her back, contrasting her pale skin, and her blue eyes watched him closely, in a way that was much like Uther. Her chin was rested on her hand and she smiled widely at him, one of those smiles that just made Merlin feel as if she were putting on a show. She was nothing like her brother, Merlin noted, not in looks or in personalities it seemed. She was powerful, that was easy to see. She oozed confidence and magic, just pure magic, and Merlin wondered whether she could see the same in him.

"-and that's Gwaine and Percival, but we call him Percy," Lance finished.

Merlin blinked, startled at the names. So these where his police protection then. Percy was practically double his size, with huge arms and arching shoulders. A friendly giant, Merlin decided when Percy grinned at him. In contrast, Gwaine was smaller, probably about Lance's height he would guess, with long brown hair that curved around his neck and an enticing smile on his handsome face. He met Merlin's gaze, light with recognition, and winked playfully, reassuringly. A game, that was easy to see, but that didn't stop Merlin from flushing and Gwaine's smile turned smug.

Leon nudged his friend in the side. "Stop flirting with the new kid," he scolded gently, "Percy's sitting right there."

Percy chuckled deeply. "It doesn't matter. He knows who he belongs to."

"Oh, I love it when you get all possessive," Gwaine teased, leaning forward onto his hands with a self-assured grin.

"Urk, you two sicken me," Morgana's nose wrinkled, "How long until the honeymoon stage is over again?"

"About 3 more weeks," Arthur replied with a laugh and Merlin noticed how much brighter he seemed now that he was surrounded by friends. He tried not to be just a little insulted by that.

"I wouldn't trust that judgement. That's what he said about Lance and Gwen, remember?" Elyan reminded. "It's been two years and they haven't bloody finished yet."

"That's because Lance-a-lot here knows how to keep the magic alive," Morgana wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Morgana…" Gwen let out an embarrassed hiss whilst Lance just looked uncomfortable. She seemed quick to change the subject, something that only seemed to amuse the older Pendragon more. "Alex," she finally said, a tinge of desperation in her voice, and Merlin froze like a deer in headlights.

"Tells about yourself," she encouraged.

"Uh, what do you want to know?" he replied awkwardly.

"I don't know; anything. Um, what's your favourite colour? Movie? Television show? Band?" she pressed.

"Uh, red I guess, would be my favourite colour," Merlin answered awkwardly. Vaguely, he wondered whether he should be responding as himself - what would Alex Vhalos' favourite colour be? He wasn't sure. Although, he supposed, telling the truth would make remembering the lie much easier. "I liked the new Bond movie-" the last movie he had gone to see with his dad "-and I guess Doctor Who would be my favourite television show-" every weekend, he and his mum would sit and watch and complain and cry together, a tradition "-and I like The Beatles and the Drifters."

"Favourite Beatles song?" Arthur questioned his voice low. Merlin blinked at him, surprised that the man was actually talking to him. The blond just stared at him blankly, waiting for a response, acting as if this wasn't strange behaviour.

"…Twist and Shout," he finally riposted. I used to dance around the house on Saturday mornings with mum, and we'd try to outdo each other with our terrible dancing skills…

Arthur gave him a sharp nod in response and returned his gaze to his food. Worriedly, he wondered whether that was the right answer. Was there supposed to be a right answer?

"Just ignore my baby brother," Morgana told him firmly, "Daddy's making him share his room and he's throwing his toys out of the pram." She mocked.

Arthur's head shot up to glare darkly at his sister. "I'm not being a baby. I was being nice, but clearly we're not going to get along."

Merlin tried to keep the offended look off his face. He hadn't even done anything. He'd been asleep when Arthur had come back and he'd barely said two words to him. How was he supposed to know that he doesn't like him? Not that he cared. Because if anyone was as much of a clotpole as Arthur was, Merlin didn't want to be liked.

Lance frowned deeply at him, disappointment clear on his face. "I thought I told you to be nice," he chided.

"I tried," Arthur retorted.

"When?" Merlin blurted out. He wasn't even aware it had happened until Arthur's glare fixated on him. His stomach tightened with panic and maybe a little fear and he dropped his gaze, picking at his food.

Hurt and anger rose in Arthur's stomach. When had he been nice? He may not have been wearing a sign to announce it, but he had tried to be good, to be helpful, and ungrateful cad didn't even notice. He gritted his teeth and opened his mouth, fully prepared to tell where he could shove it, when he saw Lance's disapproving look over the table. It was as if all the tension left him in one moment, leaving only defeat. He had tried, a very small amount, admittedly, but still. It just wasn't worth it to argue.

He sighed heavily, shaking his head, before he stood up abruptly. "I'm done," he muttered angrily, roughly picking up his plate, still littered with food, and stormed away from the table. There was a discomfited silence as Arthur put his plate away and stalked from the food.

Merlin cringed in embarrassment. "Sorry…" he whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Alex," Gwen stated resolutely, her expression stubborn, "its Arthur whose needs to apology."

"Maybe I should try talking to him?" Leon offered.

"No," Morgana sniffed, lifting a folded napkin from her lap and laying it over her empty place. She stood up. "I'll talk to him."

She brushed down her skirt delicately, stepping over the bench and carrying her tray away. Her hair swayed sensually with her hips.

As soon as she was out of ear shot, Gwaine burst out laughing. "God, Arthur's in trouble."

"I pity that boy, I really do," Lance added.

"Well, I think he deserves it. He's acting like a prat for no reason," Gwen countered with a small frown.

"I don't think anyone deserved Morgana's wrath, not even the princess," Gwaine commented.

"M-Morgana's wrath?" Merlin questioned hesitantly. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

"Oh, her anger is legendary," Leon replied, "Arthur doesn't stand a chance."

"She's not going to hurt him is she?" he asked worriedly.

"Of course not, but then again, she doesn't need to," Percy assured with a shrug of one shoulder.