It started the same way it did every other night. With four knights. A faithful servant. And a sword. There were trees, and witches, and the sound of a scream that echoed in his mind long after Arthur woke.

Every night for weeks now, and it was always the same. And each time he woke up it was covered in sweat and screaming one name. Merlin.

Sitting up in bed, Arthur ran his fingers through his damp hair and then raggedly down his face, his chest heaving as he struggled to make his breathing even out. Merlin. What a joke. If he had to dream about a person every night, why couldn't it be about a woman? Or love? Why did it have to be magic? Why a story that was the furthest thing from being real?

Heaving a sigh, Arthur swung his legs over his bed and let his bare feet brush the cold wooden floors as he looked across his dorm room where a man lay in the next bed, snoring loudly.

There was something to be said about his roommate, Dominic, Arthur supposed, as never once since they'd started living together had he woken the man with his dreams. All the better anyway, given the blond had no idea how he would, or could, explain what he dreamt about every night.

Stretching his arms over his head, Arthur glanced out the dark window near his bed before looking down at his clock, which read a little after four in the morning. Another sleepless night awaited him.

Taking his time to gather the clothes and the toiletries he would need, Arthur crept out the door and to the bathroom, which they shared with two other students. He hated the small quarters, as being an only child had afforded him his own spacious room at home until this final semester, but he felt he was doing well in adjusting. At least sometimes.

By the time he had showered, changed, and prepared himself for the day, it was still before five, and he had nearly three hours before his first class. So Arthur did what he always did when he was awake after dreaming. He read.

Long ago he had started a collection that he largely hid from, well, everyone. Books, texts, printed pages from the internet. Each and every item he had pertained to Arthurian legend.

Arthur wouldn't say he was obsessed like his parents claimed he was, but more intrigued. He'd grown up on the stories, and had quickly fallen in love once he realized he shared the same name as a king. He supposed he'd never really grown out of those fantasies if his dreams were any indication.

Crawling back into his bed, Arthur grabbed one of his books and began to read. He read and thought about his dreams until his alarm went off, and as he pulled it off the charger to silence the ringing, he spotted a message from his father.

Swiping to the side to get rid of the notification without even bothering to read the message, Arthur climbed out of his covers and gathered his textbooks and pulled on his shoes before slinging his battered bag over his shoulder.

His day became a flurry of classes and homework as he studied for his exams, with food thrown in occasionally while every free thought drifted back to his dreams. He just couldn't get them out of his head.

By the time Arthur returned to his dorm late that evening, his body was exhausted but his mind was still running endless laps. Every time he tried to open a textbook in class, or write an essay in the library, his mind wandered. To the knights. To the magic. To the water.

Every single one of his dreams had it, even if the setting didn't make sense for it to be there. Water. A lake. A pond. An ocean. And each time he was in the water, one way or another. Whether it was how his dream ended, or how it began, Arthur was always in the water. Drenched, exhausted, but alive.

That was always the first word that came to mind when he thought about it. Alive. A dream analyst would have a field day with him he was sure.

By midnight, Arthur was fed up with himself. Dominic hadn't returned to their room, he couldn't focus, and his mind refused to think about anything but his dreams.

So Arthur got up, shoved his things into his backpack, and tugged on a coat and hat before taking off into the night. Maybe it was the confinement of his room that was making it so hard to focus. He needed to be out in the night air, cold as it was. That usually woke him right up, clearing his mind and causing his thoughts to sharpen.

Walking away from the dorm and the college, he made his way to a park that he often studied at with a couple of his classmates when the days were nicer. He'd never been there at night before, and it felt immensely different.

There was an air of untouchable magic surrounding it. Perhaps that was too fanciful a comparison, but it was all he could think as he stepped across the threshold and spent his time sitting, reading, and attempting to study at all his usual places.

Only the large oak he sat under was too hard with the cold ground. The park bench he frequented had a thin layer of frost that soaked through his jeans. The picnic table beneath a street lamp was too dark, the bulb in said lamp having burned out at some point recently. Nothing felt right, so he kept moving.

After a while, Arthur found a winding path he'd never seen in the park before, and he found his feet following along without a thought. Only the further he walked, the worse he began to feel.

He knew he hadn't slept much recently, but he felt downright feverish despite the frigid air. His feet drug along the sidewalk, his bag was barely hanging on from one shoulder, and he couldn't seem to lift his head. The air froze around him, and his thoughts drifted further and further away, taking on ideas and visions and voices that weren't his own.

Unlike his dreams, where he saw adventures and fights through his own eyes, these thoughts were taking over his entire being. He wanted to be found. By whom exactly he wasn't sure, but his mind was screaming that he was here. Awake. Alive.

Arthur had always been different, he knew that. He was popular in school, did well on his football team, and had won several awards with his essays, but it never felt right. He'd always felt disconnected, like he was watching himself from behind a mirror. Why? Why had he always felt so wrong in his own skin? It was his life, his passions, but it was all so wrong.

Arthur couldn't place when he'd stopped walking, or why his eyes had focused on the sparkling fountain in front of him, but he was aware of his reflection. It was one of a young man, with blond hair hidden beneath a black beanie, and bundled up in a dark coat.

His reflection had the same curve of his nose and tilt of his chin, but the eyes we're different. So different. The ones staring back at him from the fountain were harder, wiser, tortured.

Without knowing why, Arthur reached his hand forward, and the reflection did the same, until the man touched the water with his fingertips. The reflection rippled, and suddenly Arthur stumbled forward, his head and shoulders submerging in the freezing water as everything exploded around him. Memories and sounds and voices burst inside his mind, and the man gasped at the weight of it all slamming into him.

"Arthur!"

"Oi, Dollop Head!"

"You are the Prince of Camelot, Arthur, and it's time you start acting like it."

"I was having a dream of eating a cheese that tasted of apple pie."

"Poetry?"

Hands were suddenly grasping ahold of his shoulders and yanking him back, pulling Arthur out of the water as the blond began to sputter, coughing up the water he'd inhaled. His face was freezing, as were his lungs, but there was something more now, something greater to focus on.

Pendragon. He was Arthur Pendragon. King. Friend. Myth made real. He was awake. Alive. He had returned.

Coughing heavily, Arthur bent over, his face covered by his hands as he fought the spasms racking through his body from the cold. His head throbbed, pain weaving in and out of every thought he had as he tried to sift through them all.

"Are you alright, my friend?" A familiar voice asked, but Arthur couldn't seem to bring himself to focus on it.

He could feel the presence of someone kneeling before him, but as he continued to cough, Arthur couldn't be bothered to look up.

"Do I know you?" He finally forced out, his voice hoarse and his throat burning from the cold water he'd inhaled.

Yanking off his beanie and rubbing his hands through his hair and down his face, Arthur heard a note of hesitation in the other man's voice. "No, I'm—"

"So I don't know you," Arthur snapped, his head pounding harder as he looked up and stared into wide, shocked eyes. "Yet you called me 'friend'."

The man in front of him gasped, suddenly falling to the ground and leaning away from Arthur as if he had burned him. The man appeared to be in his twenties, with dark hair and blue eyes that stared at him as if he were a ghost. Eyes that were old and pained and.. familiar. Why did this strange man look familiar to him?

"A-A-Arthur." The man stuttered out, and it was his name that made it sink in.

His name that he had heard in that voice in so many different ways. In pain. In annoyance. In joy. Arthur knew that voice. It was—

A sudden, sharp pain in his head threw Arthur forward, his hands gripping his skull as he groaned, wave after wave of agony rippling through him as pictures danced through his mind. Forests and castle halls and a round table filled with friends. And then with as much warning as he had when it started, it was over, and Arthur was left gasping for air, barely aware that the other man's hands were on his shoulders, keeping him upright.

"Are you alright?" The other asked frantically, and it was all Arthur could do to not shove him away. It was too much. All of it was just too much.

His life was conflicting with another in his mind, and it hurt like hell. His head was feverish and painful and felt as if it might burst at any moment. And yet he was there, right in front of him, and Arthur knew it all had to be real. His dreams, his adventures, his other life. It was all true.

"Fine. I'm fine." Arthur muttered, pulling his arms out of the other's grasp as he pushed back his wet hair and shivered, his physical discomfort finally outweighing his mental. "Are you just going to sit there?" The blond demanded, watching as the other man's face morphed into one of confusion.

"What?"

"You're really just going to leave me sitting here to freeze?" Arthur asked with a scoff, and the other man's mouth dangled open in such a ridiculous fashion that it was all the blond could do to keep a straight face. "Honestly, Merlin. I thought you knew better."

And there it was. That stupid expression that Arthur loved. The one that was a mix between disbelief and irritation. He would have reveled in that face more if the blinding pain in his head hadn't struck again.

Leaning forward and groaning, Arthur's fingers dug into his skull as he closed his eyes tight. It hurt so much. Everything hurt. A football match in the square. A patrol through Camelot with his father. A weekend spent studying and living off energy drinks. An adventure with undead creatures attacking them.

"Arthur!" "Arthur!"

The same voice from two different times. His name said exactly the same. From his servant. His friend. His warlock.

Fingers tightened painfully around his arms and Merlin was calling to him again, but Arthur had another thought to cling to. A warlock. He'd forgotten. After everything, after all this time, Merlin was here and that was the only explanation. He had magic. It was as blindsiding as it had been when Arthur had first been told.

"Arthur, come on." Merlin tugged at him, hands forcing him to his knees, and then pulling his arm over his shoulders. "My flat isn't far; I can help you."

Swearing loudly as he stood and a fresh wave of pain racked through his mind, Arthur slumped against the warlock as Merlin hurried to brace his weight.

"Come on, Arthur. Stay with me."

"Shut up, I'm fine." The blond muttered, pushing himself off his friend and wavering on unsteady feet. When exactly had the world begun to move on its own?

"Here, give me these." Merlin spoke, taking the bag still dangling from his shoulder and carefully tugging off the man's wet coat.

Cold wind blew against the blond's body, causing him to shudder, and Merlin quickly slid off his own coat to drape over Arthur's shoulders. Tugging at the edges gratefully, Arthur eyed the boy—man—up and down, and squinted his eyes. He had to be seeing things now because there was no way Merlin was wearing that.

"You still wear those ridiculous scarves?"

"I like my neckerchiefs." Merlin scoffed in offense, his fingers reaching for the bright red cloth tied around his neck before he dropped his hand and slung the wet coat over his arm. "Come on, the sooner you get warm the better you'll feel."

Stamping his feet a couple of times, Arthur nodded and followed beside Merlin. Neither of them spoke as the wind began to pick up, cutting through the two of them with its icy chill. Merlin had said his home wasn't far, but it felt far, and by the time they had climbed to the second floor and Arthur stood waiting for the door to be unlocked, he felt like he was dying. Again.

Fumbling with the keys in the pocket of the coat he'd given Arthur, Merlin finally unlocked the door and pushed it open, waving his hand to signal for the blond to enter. Stepping inside as a light flicked on, Arthur stood just inside a small, quaint apartment while Merlin closed and locked the door behind them.

"It's nice." Arthur commented, standing just inside the door and looking around.

"It's small, I know." Merlin shrugged self-consciously, taking his coat back and hanging it and Arthur's on a rack by the door. "It's just me so.. I didn't see the point in getting anything spacious." That much was obvious.

Directly in front of Arthur was a small sitting room with a single red couch, a table in front with two books sitting on it, and a television hanging across from those things on the wall. To his right was a small kitchen, with plain wooden cabinets and two simple counters.

Across from the sitting room were two other rooms with the doors closed, which Arthur assumed were the bedroom and the bathroom. As he stood surveying Merlin's home, Arthur began to sway from one side to the other, an image overlaying the apartment with the small room the warlock once had in the physician's tower in Camelot.

"Arthur?" Merlin's hand was on his arm again, drawing him out of his stupor, and Arthur made a motion towards the couch.

"I think I need to sit down."

Without a word the warlock led him over and watched him sit, before he turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen. "Tea should help to warm you right up."

Sitting up straight, Arthur fought with the buttons on his shirt until he could peel off the top layer, only feeling the water from the fountain on the shoulders of his dark undershirt.

"I got the place cheap." Merlin spoke from the kitchen, the sound of his messing about nearly hiding his voice. "I got it from my father, who got it from his. At least, that's what my landlady thinks. She also thinks I'm the spitting image of my relatives."

Merlin was rambling, just like he used to, only there was no comfort in his babbling as Arthur wrung his hands together and stared blankly at the table in front of him.

"Here." Merlin's voice was suddenly right next to him, causing Arthur to start as he blinked at the mug hovering directly in front of his face.

"Thanks." The blond mumbled, taking the white mug from the other's hand and holding the warmth tightly between his fingers. Merlin moved around and sat on the edge of the coffee table before him, and once again the two lapsed into silence.

"So." Arthur finally said, still gripping the mug that he'd yet to drink from.

"So." Merlin nodded once, holding onto his own mug that hadn't touched his lips either.

"Suppose we should talk about things." Arthur sighed, rolling back his shoulder as Merlin nodded again, still not looking at the other. "It's good to see you, Merlin."

Finally glancing up at his name, the warlock smiled a bit, and his fingers visibly relaxed against his mug. "And you, Arthur."

"I'm back from the dead, it seems."

"Yes, you are."

"Right then," Arthur said, sucking in a deep breath for what he knew had to be asked.

"What sort of trouble are we in now, exactly?"

A/N

Okay but the way they awkwardly settle back into their roles after so long makes me grin like crazy. I love these two idiots so much.

Am I the only one SUPER upset that they took Merlin off of Netflix? That's literally the ONLY reason I was still paying for it. So. Freaking. Upset.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and that you are enjoying the story so far! I would love to hear from you, so leave any comments, questions, or theories for me!