AN: HELLO EVERYBODY!

So I lied... I said I wouldn't update till July... but we got a three day break from the field school, and I found a bundle of fantastic reviews waiting for me. You're all absolutely fantastic. :) So I'm doing my best to deserve your continued support! TWO updates in twelve days! Sadly, that's a record for me. ^^

In archaeology news of the day, I sifted a zillion buckets of dirt through a 1/8 inch grid this week and found only a shiny rock for all my troubles. But... it was flaked by humans, so hey... I have never been more excited over a shiny rock in my life. xD

And to the guest who reviewed Legacies (awed-strucked), this is the only way I can reply to you, so I hope you see this. It was my pleasure to write for you. I'm glad you enjoyed the read!

Once again... I probably won't get another break, so don't expect a new chapter till July... but I guess you never know?

Cheers! Maybe I'll actually find an arrowhead this week? Or a bone...? *fingers crossed*

Sandyy

"What happened to your head?" Merlin flinched and pulled away from light fingers brushing his hair back.

"Uh… nothing." He flattened his hair down over the bruise on his temple. "Knocked it on something." As little as Morgana liked her foster father, she might be worried enough to talk to someone if she heard about Arthur's run-in with the hostile students. An investigation or a new bodyguard would cause more problems than Merlin could count just at the moment, particularly with Gwaine staying at the flat. Morgana's eyes narrowed dubiously, but she sat down across from him and poured a drop of creamer into her coffee. "Arthur and I have a new flatmate," Merlin said by way of changing the topic. He grinned. "An American. He's crashing at our place until he can get a new flat. Got himself evicted last week." Morgana made a face.

"I though international students stayed in the remaining student housing," Morgana commented.

"Usually… but they take every excuse to shunt students into flats off the campus. Building more student housing isn't exactly a priority right now," Merlin said. Oxford had once been home to a considerable magic population, and city and university both been hit hard during the civil war. Even now after fifteen years of reconstruction, the university struggled to sustain three-quarters of the student body it had before, and undamaged classrooms were always scheduled with classes from morning until sundown. Like most of the country, though, the old university and its faculty tenaciously continued to carry on as much as possible like nothing had happened.

"What is an American doing in this dump anyways?" Morgana mused flippantly. "Surely he could find an intact university at home." Merlin shrugged.

"Well… he's only half American. He says he was born in Dublin and his mum took him to America to live with his grandparents after the civil wars started. According to him, his grandparents in America 'got sick of him' and shipped him back to England to make something of himself."

"And now he's been evicted from his flat in the middle of the term," Morgana laughed. "He sounds like quite the character."

"You have no idea. Last night he borrowed a tenner off the table and came back drunk. I'm not sure I want to know how he managed that." Morgana's eyebrows rose.

"How'd you talk Arthur into letting a nutter like that stay in your flat?"

"I didn't. Arthur's the one who invited him." Merlin's grin faded. This again, he thought, suppressing a sigh. "He's not that uptight, Morgana. There's just a lot of… pressure on him."

"He's not the only one," Morgana muttered pointedly. She resumed stirring creamer into her coffee with a thin black straw. "I can't imagine Uther's golden child keeping company with someone like that though." Merlin pursed his lips and stalled for a moment, turning his phone over in one hand to check the time, only half out of necessity. Gwaine had told him that his father died in the civil wars following the orders of some 'pompous, arrogant bureaucrat' in charge of his unit. He thought Arthur was an entitled and prejudiced bureaucrat's son. But for all his odd flaws, Merlin liked the American. He was still relaxed and cheerful, and his opinions certainly hadn't affected his behavior around Arthur. The blond hadn't been around much the last day. He'd been busy with schoolwork as the end of the term drew near.

"They get on," Merlin said, shrugging. "Arthur says hi, by the way," he added.

"He could've said it himself," Morgana said flatly. Merlin shrugged apologetically.

"He's buried in the library somewhere trying to finish his term paper." Morgana looked unimpressed.

"Did he tell you to say that?"
"No." Merlin bridled instantly. "I'm not here to make excuses for Arthur."

"Come on, Merlin. You know what's going on," Morgana challenged, folding her arms over her chest. "He's avoiding me."

"I certainly don't know that." Merlin set his coffee mug down with a sigh. "First of all, Arthur actually does have a term paper to write, and secondly I am not your middle man and won't carry messages for either of you. If you have a problem with Arthur, you can talk to him yourself."

"Arthur's the one with a problem. He does this every time I have any kind of quarrel with Uther—like somehow he'll be contaminated if he talks to me."

"You push him for an opinion," Merlin said. "He'd be happy to talk to you if he didn't think you'd drag him into the middle of a row." He sighed. "What did you expect, Morgana? You know what Uther thinks about sorcery."

"It wouldn't matter what political platforms I adopted. Uther doesn't listen to me. He might listen to his golden child," Morgana retorted peevishly. Merlin shook his head.

"Arthur would only estrange himself too. It wouldn't help. Don't ask him to take sides between you and Uther. It's not his battle."

"It's everyone's battle," Morgana rejoined harshly. "He'll have to choose a side eventually." She leaned forward over the table, hunching her shoulders and staring down at her mug. "But he'll go with Uther's pigheaded prejudice, I suppose." Merlin blinked.

"Arthur's not like that, and you know it," he protested. Morgana scowled but didn't answer. She was almost as unreasonable as Arthur had been two days before discussing the amnesty acts in Scandinavia. It was times like this that Merlin could imagine that the two children Uther had raised were true brother and sister. They had a matching obstinate streak a mile wide. But in some ways Morgana seemed even more like Uther than the man's own son did. Arthur chose his battles carefully where Morgana fought every battle in sight with an unflagging vigor. And Arthur, as arrogant as he could be, saw the good in others where Morgana judged swiftly and harshly. Merlin disliked the way her judgment of Arthur seemed to fall lately, though. For all their quarrels, the two had always been close before, and they were both good friends of his. He hated to see her driving a wedge between them. "Arthur hasn't got much of a choice right now," Merlin told her. "Anything he says goes straight to the news media. He's under a lot of pressure, and Uther holds the purse-strings. He can't do any differently right now. But you're over legal age of majority. If you got a job and paid your own rent, Uther wouldn't have any say in what you did or said." Morgana shrugged her shoulders.

"That's assuming that England even has free speech anymore," she muttered.

"Things are changing, Morgana," Merlin insisted. "America is putting a bill for amnesty to the vote, and Sweden and Norway are revisiting their laws on sorcery. It's only a matter of time before Uther is forced to at least review our laws."

"Do you really think Uther will ever reconsider the laws on sorcery?" Morgana asked. Merlin paused for a beat. He wasn't entirely sure. Uther had held the country in stasis on this subject for a long time. People still feared even to discuss it…

"Maybe…" He shrugged. "But that's not what you wanted to talk to me about, is it? What happened yesterday? You called at… what was it, five in the morning? Were you having those nightmares again?" Morgana lifted her eyes, and a spark returned to them, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She looked more awake and eager than he'd seen her in a long time.

"No. They're gone now." She stole a furtive glance around the room and lowered her voice. "I've met someone… someone who knew how to stop them," she said softly.

"You…" Merlin suppressed a shiver at the words. "Does this someone know youhave magic?" he asked, suddenly wary. He had long been her only confidante on the subject of magic, and as uncomfortable as it made him to discuss the topic, he'd always met with her to talk when she needed it. And every time he left with a lingering sense of guilt tempered by a fear of speaking his secret aloud to anyone. He remembered that his magic had once almost caused Gaius' death. Morgana herself was no fool. She wouldn't confide in anyone she thought would reveal her. But all the same, so many magic users had deeply hidden agenda. Merlin knew that all too well himself.

"It's alright. She's with the Druids," Morgana told him quickly. A Druid… that was somewhat reassuring. The dragon had told Merlin about the Druids. They were advocates for peace in the magical community.

"As long as you're safe…" he said slowly.

"It's completely safe," Morgana promised, and he smiled slightly, trying not to look worried. "She's told me so much about our kind," Morgana continued enthusiastically, "About my abilities and the dreams. She says there were once many like myself… seers she called them. They saw the future, sometimes through crystals or spells, but the most powerful ones through dreams. And," she continued, her voice dropping so low that Merlin had to lean forward to listen. "She told me about a great prophecy that the seers of old spoke of—that in the country's darkest hour, a great leader and a powerful sorcerer would come to unite the two peoples of this country." Merlin drew his cup a little closer, staring down at the tendrils of steam rising from it. Two great men whose actions would lead the way for the entire world… It was the same prophecy he'd first heard so many years ago from the dragon. Not that he'd ever believed in such things to start with.

"That's nonsense. An old folk tale," he said quietly.

"Merlin," Morgana's voice rose impatiently. "You know about my dreams… All of them have happened just as I saw them—the riots when we started college, the assassination attempt on Uther's life… you remember. I told you!" Merlin held up his hands in surrender and gestured for her to lower her voice. She stopped for a heartbeat with an impatient acknowledging nod then continued in an urgent half-whisper. "These Druids… they're the only people who can explain why. They're not making up tales." She ignored Merlin's dubious expression and pressed on. "Maybe this warlock has already been born. I think the country needs it more than ever right now. The Druids are all looking. Morgause knows other sorcerers from all over the country. She said they need people like me: people who see the future in their dreams." Merlin almost choked on his mouthful of tea. He swallowed a little faster than he intended to and cleared his throat, eyes watering from the almost scalding liquid.

"Morgause?" he breathed. "You… you don't mean—"

"Morgause Fox," she said, nodding.

"She left the country," Merlin said hoarsely

"She's here. I met her. The druids helped her stay here in hiding," Morgana said.

"And you told her you have..." Merlin trailed off, shaking his head vigorously. "Morgana, you can't trust her. She's a politician—a rabble rouser. She's probably using you!"

"Why would she do that?" Merlin gaped at her. Surely Morgana wasn't so naïve?

"You're Uther Pendragon's adopted daughter. You'd be the perfect media tool!" he said impatiently.

"She wouldn't do anything to harm me, Merlin. She's like me!" Morgana leaned forward, her eyes brightening with excitement, and her words and expression made Merlin feel suddenly cold and numb with foreboding. Morgause Fox was a sorceress... It put the former MP in an entirely new light-and Merlin wasn't sure it was a favorable one. "She's taking a stand for people like us," Morgana urged. "This country's system is screwed up. Things aren't going to change if people don't start making noise." Merlin shook his head and found his voice again.

"Yes, but not like Fox. She's a radical. She stirs up the crowds-incites anger, excitement, riots. If there's going to be a change, it needs to be a compromise, not a rebellion or military coup. It has to be done right. This country just recovered from a civil war. We don't need another one." Morgana paused with her cup raised halfway to her lips.

"Why not?" Her voice hardened, and it made Merlin cringe.

"Morgana, you can't mean that." The girl ignored him, setting her coffee cup down hard on the table.

"Do you really think anything short of a revolution is going to change things for the better in this country?" she demanded harshly. "The sickness has gone too deep. Sometimes it takes radical action to change things." Merlin stilled. He'd always loved the fire in Morgana's eyes—the energy and determination that rang in her voice, but he could see as clear as day how harmful that energy could be if channeled in the wrong direction, and this... this was leading nowhere good.

"You're wrong." Merlin lifted his head and looked her straight in the eye. "Change is already happening. You only have to open your eyes to see it. Several countries are leaning towards more lenient laws on magic. It's been discussed on the air, in public, all over the country. Attitudes are shifting. But it's going to take time-time, patience, understanding, and forgiveness. Fox is aggressive, brash, and impatient. She's hurting her side more than she's helping it."

"Patience? Forgiveness?" Morgana scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You wouldn't understand what it's like to live in fear of your life everywhere you go."

"Maybe I understand more than you think." The words were out before Merlin could stop himself. He dropped his eyes to his cup and fell quiet, aware of her gaze on him and her sudden silence. Gaius was going to kill him…

"I'm sorry. I know, you and Gwen have both seen people falsely accused," she said at last in a more level tone. "But what you went through with Aredian… it's a way of life for me. I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to be free. Morgause has been a strong voice in this country, and she will be again. She can change things for the better. She still has many supporters, and Uther made her into a martyr when he issued an order for her execution. When she sets the movement into action, I want to be part of it. If I can help, I will." Merlin's shoulders slumped, and he warily met her eyes. Morgana's ideals were reminding him painfully of another friend three years ago in Armagh… and damned if he was going to let her destroy herself too. He had to make her listen, and he had one card left to play. He took a breath.

"Morgana, there's something I need to tell you." Morgana tilted her head ever so slightly. "Not here," Merlin added and bit his lip. Morgana might be willing to talk about her 'dreams' here, but he wouldn't speak his secret aloud in a public place. "Can you come back down to Oxford next Saturday?"

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"We can talk at my flat. Arthur's always at the shooting range on Saturday afternoons." Morgana's eyebrows drew together and her eyes narrowed curiously. She nodded.

"I'll be there."

Arthur was tucked away in a reading room, a stack of books perched precariously on the edge of his desk. The top of his laptop screen was just visible past the books, open. Merlin stopped at the end of the table and smiled, putting his concerns about Morgana aside for the moment. Arthur's head rested on the page of the current book he'd been reading, and his laptop screen had gone blank probably long ago. He sauntered casually over to the desk right beside Arthur and dropped his backpack next to the desk with a satisfyingly loud thud. Arthur started up, blinking owlishly in the yellowish light of his reading lamp.

"How's that paper coming along?" Merlin asked cheerfully.

"Idiot." Arthur glared at him. "I was having a nice nap." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I was coming to ask what you wanted from the takeout menu. Anyways, the library closes in ten minutes," he pointed out, gesturing at a nearby wall clock. Arthur groaned and rubbed his eyes miserably as he sat up. Merlin's brows drew together. "Did you go to class today?"

"No." Arthur crumpled up a protein-bar wrapper and stuffed it in his jeans-pocket. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I think I'm coming down with something."

"You did get knocked on the head earlier this week," Merlin observed. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair with a grimace.

"Not that hard," he mumbled. He did look a bit pale, but then he'd kept himself locked up in the library for the past day and a half. Merlin pushed the thought aside. Arthur could take care of himself. He had better things to do than worry about a sore, ill-tempered flatmate. "How's Morgana?" Arthur asked unexpectedly as he began to collect the items strewn across his desk.

"Good. She was sorry you weren't there," Merlin answered. It was a half-truth he supposed. Arthur glanced up at him.

"Is she still going on about that bloody right wing amnesty movement?"

"Yeah," Merlin answered slowly. His voice was a bit edged. He reached down to pick up a book, avoiding Arthur's eyes, but it was snatched out from under his hand before he could touch it. Tired as he was, a faint kindling of interest relit in Arthur's weary eyes: the usual guarded concern that accompanied discussions on Morgana.

"You think she's right." Merlin withdrew his hand and shifted back a step, still careful not to meet Arthur's eyes. He wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement.

"I think you should talk to her," he answered diplomatically, favoring the former option.

"Morgana's a die-hard progressive. You know we won't agree on anything."

"That's not true. It'd do you both good to hear each other out if either of you could shut up long enough to listen to the other," Merlin said. Arthur spread his hands.

"So we discuss them. What good will it do? Curfew, travel restrictions, laws… executions. They're not going to change." Arthur sighed heavily and pushed a couple of books to the side. "What do you think? Is Morgana right?"

"I…" Merlin's mouth went dry. He carded his fingers restlessly through the tassels of his red scarf. "I don't know…" he stammered. Arthur dropped a final book on his pile with a conclusive thump and turned narrowed eyes on him.

"What is it with you?" he asked irritably. "You come out with the most ridiculous progressive opinions sometimes, and when I ask you about something, you lock up and act as skittish as a stray cat. You're almost as spooked about magic as you are about the Patroni."

"I'm not afraid to talk about it!" Merlin rejoined instantly, stung by the irony of Arthur's statement.

"Then what is it?" Arthur demanded. "Are you afraid I'll tell my father?" More than you know. Merlin suppressed a shudder.

"You said just a couple days ago that that kind of things shouldn't be discussed," he said crossly, unable to keep a touch of ice out of his voice. Arthur shifted.

"Look. Never mind what I said then. I was…" He stopped, glancing down at his laptop keyboard. "Maybe… not in the best mood." Merlin's lips twitched upward. It was so typical Arthur. Never a straightforward admission.

"Now you're getting somewhere," he cajoled. "The next step is called 'apologizing'." He drew the word out slowly and was forced to dodge sideways and put his hands up to shield his face from the book Arthur threw at him.

"Shut up, Merlin. Just answer the question," Arthur muttered, glaring balefully at him. The smile slipped from Merlin's face. Even when he was in the best of moods, Merlin didn't like to broach the topic of sorcery with Arthur. Merlin knew the doubts were still there, hidden under his façade of dauntless confidence, but Arthur had always stood with his father—perfectly trained to put on a good show for the media.

"England's still struggling," Merlin said evasively, picking up the discarded book. "I guess… people want to see some change happening. Not the old routines your father put in place more than fifteen years ago."

"That's what 'people' think. I'm asking what you think," Arthur said, arching an eyebrow. Merlin offered him a sheepish smile.

"I… don't?" he suggested, hopeful. Arthur snorted.

"I could almost believe that. Come on, Merlin. Spit it out. You usually love to talk." Merlin ran his thumb over the pages of the small, cloth-bound book in his hands.

"I think… people are afraid of sorcery because of what it did to this country when we were younger… but sorcerers lived among the population here for centuries before the uprising—in peace. Maybe it would be easier if we left them alone. If we don't trouble them, they won't trouble us." Arthur's brow creased, and Merlin waited a moment, watching uneasily for a reaction. Silence… it was better than what he'd gotten for his trouble two days ago he supposed. "Well don't think too hard about it," he said mildly. "I know it's painful for you—especially on an empty stomach." He ducked when Arthur hurled a pencil at his face with deadly accuracy. "Right. You're ordering your own food now," he said, grinning, and quickly backed out of the room before Arthur could throw anything else.

Most students were already gone by this hour on a Friday night, save a scant few Merlin spotted as he wove his way through the shelves towards the stairs, heading for the front desk. A soft thud shattered the silence of the library. Merlin stopped and tilted his head to listen, and he caught the low murmur of a voice, so quiet he might have missed it had he not been standing still. Something about the tone made him pause. It sounded low, angry… almost threatening. He slowly, silently moved forward to peer around the shelf, straining to catch the words, and stopped, frozen at the end of the aisle. A tall, stocky fellow had his back to Merlin, and he stood almost a foot taller than the girl in front of him. Several textbooks lay about her feet, some open and with crumpled pages.

"Please, I can't. Not here. Not right now. People will see." Her voice shook. She tried to step backwards, but the man had a vice-grip on her.

"Do you want me to take my payment later?" The man's grip on her wrist tightened, and his free hand tucked a stray strand of dark brown hair behind the girl's ear. She trembled.

"N-no… Please." Merlin took a step forward, jaw clenched and eyes alight with anger.

"I think," he said quietly through his teeth, "That you're hurting her." The man's head came about sharply. Despite his height and burly build, his face was rounded and somewhat childish. The leering expression didn't suit him at all.

"This doesn't concern you," he growled at Merlin.

"The problem is that hurting someone else doesn't concern you," Merlin said dryly. "Take your hands off of her right now, or I'll report you to the police." The man released his grip on the girl's wrist, his face coloring an impressive shade of red.

"Don't forget our agreement," he spat at the girl. He turned away, and Merlin heard the soft crunch of a book's spine under his foot as stalked away. Merlin watched until he was out of earshot and turned to the mute victim.

"Are you alright?" he asked the girl. She cradled her bruised wrist against her chest and nodded shakily. "Has he bothered you before?" Merlin pressed, coming forward to collect her fallen textbooks.

"N…no, it's fine," she stammered.

"It's not fine. He was threatening you." Merlin scowled as he picked up the book with the broken spine. Several crumpled pages had fallen out, and he carefully slid them back into the book, smoothing them flat again. "You should report him."

"No. Please… it's fine. I know him," she said, shaking her head. She gathered the textbook out of Merlin's arms and held it against her chest. "Really, I'm okay… thank you." Merlin didn't like it, but she clearly didn't want to talk about the man just now so he straightened up with her other books. He took note of the title and touched the spine of the damaged book.

"I've got a copy of that. My flatmate and I used it for a class last term. He won't mind if I lend it to you." She lifted her head and met his eyes for the first time, her expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, absolutely. It's not a problem." Merlin reached a hand into his pocket, trying to balance the other books he was holding. "I'll give you my number, and I can bring you the book tomorrow." He hesitated. "Maybe you could meet me at a café… get a cup of tea…" He faltered, , wondering a bit numbly where he'd thought he was going with that offer. Great… and now I sound like a hopeless idiot. "Or… coffee if you prefer… I mean, only if you want to—" He stopped short, having managed to retrieve his phone from his pocket at the cost of two books atop his stack, and to his surprise, the girl's eyes narrowed and she let out a soft, lighthearted laugh. Merlin let out a breath of relief he hadn't even known he was holding.

"Let me do it," she said, taking the phone. Merlin surrendered it with a slightly embarrassed grin and recollected the fallen books. The smile faded slightly when he saw the girl tense, and he followed her gaze to a figure half-obscured in the shadows a few shelves away. He set his jaw, a surge of fierce determination kindling inside of him. He was going to get to the bottom of what that man held over her, whatever it took… but first, he was going to make sure she didn't get hurt again. Not tonight at least.

"Tell you what," he said a little more confidently as she handed his phone back. "It's getting dark. I'll walk you home." Her relieved expression was enough to make it worthwhile, even had her home been all the way back in London. He smiled brightly again and he extended a hand. "I'm Merlin by the way." She smiled back, genuine gratitude shining in her amber eyes, and took his hand.

"I'm Freya."