Thank you guys so, so much for the reviews! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I really hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter Thirteen

"Gwaine, hurry up." Merlin said, tapping his foot loudly against the leg of his desk. "We're already ten minutes late."

"Calm down." Gwaine said, pulling on his shoes with excruciating slowness. "I thought you said you wanted to be late."

"A little late. I don't want wait till I've grown a beard."

"You'd look good with a beard."

"Gwaine."

"Hey, don't snap at me!" Gwaine huffed, "I'm doing you a favour. It's not like I want to spend my Friday evening hanging out with you and your cyber boyfriend."

Merlin felt silent, and Gwaine's expression softened.

"I mean…"

"No you're right," Merlin mumbled. "I'm sorry."

But he couldn't stop himself from anxiously pacing the room as Gwaine tied his laces.

This is it, he told himself, tonight's the night.

Gwaine finally grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and the two of them silently headed out into the cool night air. It was just a few days until the mid-term break, and the air was starting to get that cold sharpness to it. Merlin pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

"Why don't you just zip it up?" Gwaine asked, giving him a curious look.

Merlin shrugged and reluctantly obeyed, not wanting to let Gwaine know that he was avoiding covering up the black shirt he had bought specially for tonight.

Not that Gwaine was unaware of how much time and effort he had spent getting ready for this. Merlin had pretended to be nonchalant about the whole thing - which was a futile affair, given that he had spent the past three days talking about it nonstop - but he couldn't keep himself from constantly preening in the mirror and smoothening his hair. He'd even taken an hour long bath… which was not something he normally did.

Gwaine had smirked and teased him about it, but it was all quite half-hearted. Merlin could understand why. Gwaine was the only one in Sorsbrooke who knew about Ares, and so was forced to listen to Merlin's incessant chatter about his nervousness regarding their meeting - not to mention had to endure his mood swings from excited to panicked - all alone. Merlin was sure he was sick of hearing him talk about Ares by now, even though he hadn't complained even once. Merlin really appreciated it… he knew better than anyone how annoying keeping secrets could be, and he felt bad for putting Gwaine in such a position. He made a mental note to make it up to him some day.

The café loomed in the distance and Merlin suddenly felt a rush of nausea.

"Oh my god, Gwaine." He stopped in his tracks, finally letting his panic show. "Gwaine, I can't do this."

Gwaine gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "What?"

"I can't… I mean… I don't." He bit his lip. "I can't do this. You have to go look in the window for me. Tell me what he looks like."

Gwaine's eyes grew wide. "What? Why?"

"What if he's… covered in boils?" Merlin asked, lamely. "Like big, bulging boils?"

"I thought you said his looks didn't matter."

"They don't! But…" Merlin felt like he was floundering, trying not to drown. "…if he's covered in boils I'd like to be warned before hand."

Gwaine gave him an odd look which was both endearing and pained. "Man, Merlin…" he shook his head, "You owe me one after this."

"I owe you one?" Merlin gave him a small smile, "What about that time I had to pay for those twelve beers you drank in one night?"

Gwaine stared off into the distance, thoughtfully. "Ok," he decided, "We're even."

Merlin let out a laugh despite the fact that his stomach felt like a wet towel being wrung dry. Gwaine bounded up the steps leading to the door of 'The Bean' and Merlin trailed cautiously behind him, pausing at the foot of the steps.

"He said he'd be holding a book called 'The Lionheart'. Do you see him?"

"Hmm." Gwaine peered through the large windows beside the door, "There are two people reading…"

"Is he one of them?"

"No. None of the books are called 'The Lionheart'"

"Oh."

"And both of them are girls."

Merlin groaned. "Well then neither of them are him, are they?"

"I don't know, Merlin." Gwaine smirked, "He thought you were a chick, maybe you made the same mist…"

"He's a guy, alright Gwaine? Just look for him please."

"Geez," Gwaine said defensively, "you don't have to get so worked up about it."

Merlin gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

A little nervous was possibly the biggest understatement of the century. Watching Gwaine search so unhurriedly for Ares was absolute agony.

"Oh wait, there's a person who isn't reading but they have a book with th…" Gwaine turned to Merlin, arching an eyebrow. "'The Lionheart' you said?"

"Yeah."

"I found him."

"Oh my god!" Merlin breathed. "Really? The book says 'The Lionheart'? It's really him?"

Gwaine suddenly had a very uncomfortable look about him. "Yeah… it's him."

"So?" Merlin felt like he had just ingested a marching band. His heart and ears were pounding and his brain felt close to exploding. Why wasn't Gwaine saying anything? "What does he look like? Do you know him?"

"Uh… how have you been getting along with Arthur Pendragon lately?"

Huh?

"What?" Merlin asked, his anxiety evaporating for a second, "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Do you still hate him?"

"Is he still an asshole?" Merlin challenged, rolling his eyes. "Why are you bringing him up now? This isn't the ti…" His eyes suddenly got wide and he gasped. "Is it Elyan? Oh my lord, tell me it isn't Elyan."

"No."

Merlin didn't like the pitying look Gwaine was giving him.

"Gwaine?"

"It's Arthur."

"WHAT?"

Merlin dashed up the stairs and stared into the window, unable to believe it. Sure enough, there was Arthur Pendragon with those large, innocent blue eyes and that breathtaking jawline, sitting at a small table in the middle of the café, a book noticeably propped up against the napkin dispenser in front of him. The title of the book stood out prominently against the dull cover. 'The Lionheart', it was unmistakable. The young prince was alternating between glancing around the café and tapping on his cell phone, looking as jittery as Merlin felt.

Merlin turned away from the window, feeling weak.

"Oh my god." He sank down onto a step, holding his head in his hands. "No… there's got to be some mistake. There has to be. There is no way my Ares is Arthur Pendragon. Nope. There is no way."

"Well…" Gwaine shrugged, "You don't really know him. Arthur, I mean. Maybe if you did…"

"I know him enough!" Merlin said, gesturing violently towards the café, "and he is nothing like Ares! If he was the one writing me those emails, he was obviously…" Merlin struggled to find the words, "…faking it. He was playing a practical joke or something. I don't know. But he is not the boy I've been writing to."

He stared helplessly at the door of the café, a million things running through his mind. The things Ares had told him, things he had told Ares…

He had almost told Ares about his magic.

Merlin's mind began spinning as he tried to imagine the implications of Arthur finding out he had magic. Shaking slightly at the images that were now flashing through his mind, Merlin stood up and looked at his roommate determinedly. "Let's go, Gwaine."

Gwaine looked shocked. "Are you serious?"

Merlin didn't make eye-contact with him, but his jaw was set. "Yes. Let's go. I'm sorry I dragged you out here, this was a waste of time."

"You're just going to… leave him?" Gwaine sent the prince another look through the window and turned back to Merlin. "Just waiting here for you?"

Merlin gave a forceful nod. "I mean… I'm not going to march in there and tell Arthur Pendragon that I'm the one who's been writing to him for all these months. He'll just laugh in my face. And it's not like I want to sit and have a coffee with him either."

"But… you said you had a connecti-"

"You were just going to drop me off and go to that party in Crage Hall anyway, right? So why don't you go on ahead and I'll just meet you back in the room?"

Gwaine gave him a uncertain, worried look.

"Alright." He said, hesitantly. "Are you sure you're OK?"

"Of course."

So the two of them left 'The Bean' and walked towards Crage Hall in silence. By the time they reached the leaf-strewn pathway leading to the ivy-walled dorm, Merlin had successfully managed to compose himself. Superficially, anyway. Gwaine patted him softly on the back by way of a goodbye and an apology, and the two boys separated. Merlin continued towards his dorm, his thoughts rushing wild and the cold air burning his cheeks. He was halfway there when he let out an angry growl and a string of expletives, and turned back.

The few people who had been sitting in 'The Bean' before had gone and the café was almost deserted except for Arthur and a tall, beefy man at the very back who was engrossed in a novel. Merlin pushed the door open gingerly, but even the slight movement made Arthur jump in his chair. The prince's eager expression, however, melted into a disgusted one when he saw who it was. Merlin tried his hardest not to reflect the expression as he walked over to the counter to place his order.

He watched Arthur curiously out of the corner of his eye, and noticed - with great amusement - how he very theatrically opened his book and faked rapt attention at the words on the page. It was kind of adorable, Merlin mused as he ordered a hot chocolate, how much Arthur hated him. It was almost childish the way the two of them ignored each other in the hallways and in class, but all the while they were eagerly awaiting emails from the other. And as he waited for his order to get ready, Merlin felt a sudden flush of guilt. He hadn't even considered how excited Arthur must have been to meet Emrys. If he had abandoned him like he was planning to, the boy would have probably spent the whole night longingly staring at the doors. Even the royal prat didn't deserve to be so uncomfortably stood up.

The man at the counter gave Merlin his hot chocolate. He had no reason to hold off anymore. He had to do it.

Taking a deep breath and plastering on a fake smile, Merlin walked over to the two-seater table. Arthur's lifted his gaze towards him, his eyes betraying a look of confusion and aversion.

"Can I help you?" he asked, a hint of poison in his voice.

"Yeah, I was wondering if I could join you?" Merlin asked, his fake enthusiasm making him sound far too cheerful.

"No, I'm waiting for someone." Arthur replied bluntly.

"I'll just sit with you until they come, then."

Merlin plonked himself onto the vacant chair while Arthur looked around the almost empty coffee shop in bewilderment.

"Look," he said, struggling to keep his voice level, "I'm actually waiting for an old friend of mine who I haven't seen in a long time. So could you please just sit somewhere else?"

Taking 'The Lionheart' gently out of Arthur's hands and trying to hide his smirk at his lie, Merlin began carelessly flipping through the pages. He had read the book after Ares had recommended it to him, and it had almost moved him to tears. It was one of those rare books where he wouldn't change a thing… every beautiful, poignant word of it was utter perfection. It was hard to believe that the clotpole prince of Camelot had such an exquisite taste in books.

Arthur grabbed the book back from him.

"Do you mind?" he said, hotly.

"I'll get up as soon as your 'old friend' comes, I promise." Merlin said, faking a yawn. "So… The Lionheart. It's a good book."

"I know," Arthur said, icily. "I've read it."

"You can read?"

Arthur glared at him and Merlin mentally berated himself. His brain still hadn't registered the fact that Arthur was Ares; it was hard to make a connection between the exasperating prince and the image he had of that thoughtful, beautiful boy who had been writing to him for so many months. Merlin had always pictured Ares as a brunette with soft gray eyes, glasses, and a throaty laugh, and Arthur was pretty much the opposite of what he had expected to find. But then again, Arthur was probably closer to his image of Ares than Merlin was to his image of Emrys.

"I'm sorry," Merlin mumbled.

Arthur ignored the apology, taking a sip of his coffee. Merlin got a little dizzy picturing the prince reading his emails in a room in the castle.

"So this friend…" Merlin ventured, "When is he getting here?"

"She's a girl. And it's none of your business." Arthur snapped.

"I'm just trying to make conversation." Merlin said, innocently. "So… is she your girlfriend?"

Arthur stared at him speechlessly for a second and then spluttered, "What part of this is none of your business did you not understand?"

Merlin shrugged. "Just curious. So many people here are in long-distance relationships. That must be so hard… like, only getting to spend time with your significant other on the phone. I don't think I could do it."

Arthur was watching him with annoyance, his lip curled in disdain.

"I'm single, you know." Merlin offered, as an after-thought.

"Shocker." Arthur said, blandly.

Merlin gritted his teeth to keep back a scathing retort. "What is a Lionheart anyway?" he remarked, picking up the book again. His pretence of being completely nonchalant was making Arthur furious… something Merlin was secretly enjoying. "I mean, why do people always assume the lions are the brave ones? The lionesses are the ones that hunt, you know. I mean, if he was really brave he'd be called The Lionessheart. That would be a more appropriate title."

Arthur ignored him, picking up his phone and tapping at the screen again.

"Now, a book about my life… that should be called 'The Lionheart'. Because I'm more like the male lions… I just sit around and wait for people to bring me food."

"'Annoying Tosser Who Can't Take a Hint' would be a more appropriate title." Arthur said, witheringly.

The door swung open and Arthur almost jumped out of his seat as a pale, skinny girl in a black jumpsuit with the most enraged expression Merlin had ever seen walked in, swearing under her breath.

"Is that her?" Merlin asked, brightly, "Well, she looks like an absolute joy to be around."

The girl ignored the two of them and sat by herself in the corner of the café, shoving her earphones in her ears. Arthur slumped lower in his chair.

"I guess it's not her." Merlin said, shaking his head, "What a shame. You two would have made a wonderful couple."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying…"

"Well don't just say." Arthur growled, "I've had enough of you. I'm sick of the way you talk to me."

"The way I talk to you? Oh I'm so sorry, my lord." Merlin said, his voice suddenly dripping with sarcasm, "How dare commoners like me tell you off for treating people like they're your personal servants?"

"I do not treat people like they are my servants."

"But you believe that you're entitled to perks that the rest of us don't deserve?"

Arthur stared at him in dumbfounded silence. "I am the prince," he spluttered, finally. "You have no idea the kind of shit I have to endure every single day because I was born into royalty. I have no choice in anything. Everything is pre-decided for me. I barely get to pick my own clothes in the morning. Every day I am told what to do, how to behave, what to say…"

"Aw. Poor little rich boy."

Arthur made a low, guttural sound. "It's ignorance you know?" he said, angrily, "None of you people understand what I have to go through. You just see the glamour of it. The money… the fame." He pointed to the beefy man at the back of the café. "See that guy over there? He's my bodyguard. He literally never leaves me alone."

"It's a small price to pay," Merlin said, dryly. "Some people don't have anything."

"You do, don't you? You've had an education… you have enough money to come here. What have you done with your life?" Arthur asked, a nasty sharpness to his tone. "What is the purpose of a person like you, huh? You're a… cockroach. Worse, even. People like you… they live and they die with this illusion that they have some sort of purpose. So you get lippy… you put down the king and kingdom like you have some sort of authority. You're the ant that thinks he's a dinosaur. You have all these delusions of grandeur but you just sit there dreaming and don't do anything about it. At least I'm on the path to making a difference."

Merlin stood up abruptly, his hands starting to shake. He tried to think of something cruel to say in response, but Arthur had hit his achilles heel. He could feel a painful lump beginning to form in this throat.

"Alright," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'll sod off."

He saw Arthur's eyes widen with regret, but he turned away quickly, his eyes beginning to burn. With hasty but deliberate steps, he left the café not bearing in mind - even for a second - how long Arthur was doubtless going to wait before he came to the realization that his princess wasn't going to come.