Chapter 6! Aw, guys, your reviews are stunning and VERY inspirational, thank you :D

I'm updating today instead of Saturday, because I'm going to be busy crying of Harry Potter tomorrow :'(

Also, I don't think I'm going to have time to update twice a week like I wanted to, so I'm going to be aiming for every Wednesday, hopefully starting next week... hope that's ok :)

Please enjoy and keep reviewing!

Oh and I keep forgetting! I got my first french review, way back for chapter 4 and it made me so immensly happy, so merci laurapi grands pas! I threw your review in google translate and got: Hello! Just to say I expect more forward, THE COURSE to be really interesting.

Doesn't make much sense, but I'm getting good vibes from it :D


Chapter 6

Arthur couldn't explain how it felt, having Merlin at his side. When someone asked him, his automatic answer would be,

"Annoying." But then he would feel a stab of guilt at the look Merlin cast him, the boy's bright eyes clouding with hurt.

But, Merlin was annoying! He was an idiot. He was bad at sport. He was clumsy. So why was Arthur suddenly so protective over him? Why did he feel angry when anyone apart from himself insulted Merlin? He had absolutely no idea. All he knew was that he was being drawn away from those lads who had stuck by him while he was bullying and taunting the younger students, and that they didn't like it.

They glared at Merlin with resentment and envy thickly layered over their eyes, and Merlin seemed to barely notice. Arthur had started escorting Merlin everywhere, his eyes peeled for his old 'friends'. He knew what they were capable of. They were thugs, the lot of them, and Arthur, for some strange reason, hated the thought of them hurting Merlin.

Even though he knew he was a thug too. That a few weeks ago, he would have easily dragged Merlin down a corridor by his hair, and laughed as he and his cronies beat the hell out of him. It would have seemed fun.

So how? How had Merlin changed him? Why did his day get brighter when Merlin smiled at him, or laughed or complimented him, or even when he insulted him? Why did it not matter when Merlin answered back or was rude? He didn't understand. Arthur didn't understand how Merlin made him laugh rather than scold.

Of course, he wasn't entirely lovely towards the boy. He had hit him, shouted at him, thrown things at him and forced him to do about a million chores. But that was just Arthur. That was how he had grown up: ruling entirely over others. Teaching people how to obey him was just one of Arthur's talents. People always broke beneath Arthur.

Merlin hadn't though. That was odd. Arthur could storm about and lash out at the young man as much as he pleased, but Merlin always bounded down to breakfast the next day with that ridiculously endearing smile plastered onto his face, plonked himself next to Arthur and then dragged a plate of cereal in front of him.


Arthur looked at Merlin, his expression one of half amusement, half disgust.

"Do you always eat like a pig?" he inquired, as Merlin rammed his spoon into his mouth. Merlin swallowed thickly and replied,

"Do you always talk like a prat?"

Arthur glared, unimpressed, and then slammed Merlin's arm back onto the table before he could shovel in another mouthful of cereal. Merlin started to splutter, in indignation, but then giggled as the milk from his spoon splattered over the front of Arthur's shirt. Arthur looked down at it and then reached forward, pulling the loosely knotted neck scarf from around Merlin's neck. He used it to scrub away the stain and then threw it back into Merlin's face. Merlin huffed and tied it back on.

"For God's sake, Merlin!" Arthur cried, as the boy turned back to his food, "stop eating and go get me my breakfast!"

"Oh!" Merlin said, suddenly realising why Arthur had been staring at him so expectantly, "right, of course." And he hopped back to his feet, and marched off down the table, looking for a plate of sausages or bacon.

Merlin couldn't explain how it felt, being at Arthur's side, especially now he knew about how closely linked their destinies were. It wasn't like he could just up and leave: it was his duty to protect Arthur, and to serve him. It was weird. Merlin never had to serve anyone before, and he got things wrong a lot of the time. He dropped things and broke things and forgot things and said things he wasn't supposed to say. But, in a way, it was like he was born to serve. Merlin had always naturally been a person who aided others, migrating unconsciously towards people who need his help, and Arthur definitely needed his help.

Arthur was big headed, cruel, rude and violent.

But, Merlin knew that behind all that must be a good man. How else was he supposed to be the one to return magic to England?

Merlin shook his head as he located the sausages and tipped three onto Arthur's plate: he was still really struggling to believe that there was any way on Earth Arthur would be the one to complete such a task.

He looked at the boy who had, over the course of a few weeks, become something of a master, as well as a mentor, over him. It was in moments like this, Merlin thought, as he headed back towards where Arthur sat, that you could see the man's potential. He sat with his shoulders hunched, in Merlin's absence. He looked alone and painfully vulnerable, with his eyes darting around the dining hall. And this was the Arthur Merlin wanted to get in touch with. The human Arthur. The one that felt things other than harsh hatred and resentment.

"Here you go," Merlin slid Arthur's plate under his nose, and then sat back down. Arthur gave Merlin a scathing look, for no particular reason, just because Arthur felt he was good at giving Merlin scathing looks, and then dug into his breakfast. Merlin rolled his eyes and then began wolfing down his food as fast as he could, once more.


That day, several attempts were made to separate Merlin from his mentor. As they went around their lessons as usual, with Merlin carrying both his own and Arthur's school bags, Arthur's friends tried to drag him away, casting Merlin snide glances as they did so. But Arthur jerked his arms out of their grips, frowning at them. He hadn't realised that losing friends could be just as difficult as making them.

Not that he wanted to lose them. Of course he didn't! These people were who he belonged with! That's what he told himself, over and over. He wasn't supposed to be hanging around with weird new kids like Merlin. It didn't look good.

But it felt so much better being around Merlin than being around the people who boosted his reputation.

After the school day ended, there were a few hours before dinner which Merlin usually spent with Arthur, or at least doing things for Arthur but, as it was a Friday, Arthur told Merlin to clear off and go do whatever it was he liked doing. Merlin was touched by the gesture, however roughly delivered, and gave Arthur a fleeting grin, before dashing from his presence.

Arthur felt strange, following Merlin, but he was curious. What did Merlin do in his spare time? He trailed behind him, rolling his eyes at the amount of times the boy stopped, looking around him with a confused expression, obviously lost.

It was half an hour before Merlin found the place he was looking for: the music classroom.

Uther didn't set much store by music so, whereas there were several classrooms for a lot of the other subjects, there was only one for music, and it was right at the top of the school, practically in the attic, where draughts crept through gaps in the ceiling.

Merlin ascended the stairs, followed by Arthur, although he didn't know it, and then pushed open the creaky door. The music teacher, Helen, was one of the only female teachers at Camelot's and also one of the only ones that allowed her students to call her by her first name... although she liked to be called 'Lady Helen'. She was rather eccentric, but her voice was beautiful.

Arthur knew many boys who had become... infatuated, with Lady Helen, and he wondered whether Merlin was sneaking up here to spy on her, as he himself had done with some other boys, years ago now... the thought almost made Arthur blush, and he had half a mind to call Merlin back and demand what exactly he thought he was doing, but then Merlin finished opening the door, and the room was empty. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, and began to think about where he should hide so Merlin wouldn't see him as he returned down the stairs...

But then Merlin entered the empty classroom. Arthur froze, a small line creasing the skin between his eyes as he frowned. He hesitated a second, before climbing the rest of the stairs, and then peeking into the classroom.

Arthur watched as Merlin walked over to the old piano, covered in years of graffiti from the hundreds of students that had passed through Camelot's. His jaw dropped as Merlin seated himself at the instrument and then splayed his fingers over the keys.

There was a moment of silence, where Merlin's eyes roved over the ivory, and Arthur simply stared. Then, Merlin began to play.

Tears sprang, unbidden, to Arthur's eyes, and he wasn't sure if it was the sweet sound of the music or the way Merlin looked when he played, that made them come.

Merlin's eyes had closed, his body lurching gently in time to the music, his long fingers running quickly and nimbly over the keys, his back arching when the music got louder. After a few minutes of ceaseless, perfect playing, Merlin threw his head backwards, his lips parted, as though he was letting the music flow through his finger tips, up into his throat, and then he breathed it out. Like Merlin was the music. It was beautiful.

Arthur wondered how someone so clumsy could turn into someone so graceful, with just a piano as a prop.

But then, after perhaps five minutes, which either passed like seconds or hours, Arthur couldn't be sure, a second door, at the back of the classroom, slammed open, and Merlin's hands slipped. The music juddered to a gruesome halt.

Arthur felt his heart stutter at this rude interruption and he blinked: he hadn't realised that his eyes had been open the whole time, not moving once from the figure of Merlin.

But now they moved, and they widened as they saw the three boys. All 'friends' of Arthur. All thickset and dumb and mean. And all looking at Merlin, with stupid grins on their faces that, clearly, told Merlin he was in trouble.

They came at him, all lumbering forwards at once, and Merlin barely had time to push back the piano stool and get to his feet, before he was being knocked back to the floor. They spat down at him, their words rolling together to make one roar of abuse, so that Merlin curled into a ball his hands over his head, pressing down on his ears, while they kicked and punched him.

And Arthur just stood there, unable to move.


ooo, sorry about the cliffy :s C'MON ARTY! Do something!

Well, this chappie was a lot about the ponderings and wonderings and thoughterings (?) of Arthur and Merlin... I hope you liked it :)