Chapter Text
“Eughhhhhh” Merlin wasn’t sure he’d ever woken up on a scratchier pillow. Nor a mattress made of steel. The ringing of not enough sleep between his ears gave way to some very enthusiastic snoring on the other side of the room. Merlin didn't know, well he did know, what Gwaine had done in a past life to sleep so well. It was nice to see him resting and peaceful, his only worry scraping together enough cash for his next drink.
Drinking, yes. They drank together last night. At a bar. Details of said bar escaped him as he retraced their evening which fell into oblivion around his 7th shot. Each inhale smelled rotten and yellow, each swallow like sand falling down his throat. Seeing trace amounts of vomit on his clothes and face when he stumbled in front of the mirror sparked a dread in his stomach, though he couldn’t possibly understand why. Honestly, he needed it. With all the sulking he’d been doing, one night of overindulgence was the perfect remedy. Now a remedy for Merlin’s headache.
He got to work rummaging around the miscellaneous items thrown under his bed yesterday. The old leather medicine bag still somehow smelled like those old quarters, jasmine incense burning in the quiet night, smelly tinctures prepared over open flame, the slightest remnant of leech which Merlin had grown to covet. He didn’t use this old case very often, only in dire situations. The leather scraps had begun disintegrating beyond what magic could save.
The glass vial he selected was one of Gaius’s, the contents remade every year or so, in case of a particularly throbbing headache. He poured a tablespoon each in two glasses and filled them with water till the bright yellow faded. Pinching his nose till it stung, he pitched his head back and swallowed the nuclear runoff in a few hearty gulps.
The other bed rustled and he heard a tired groggle. “What time is it?” Gwaine asked, both palms pressed to his face.
“Uh,” Merlin glanced at his watch, “8.” Gwaine mumbled inaudibly from the mess of covers.
“This will make you feel better, tastes good too.” Merlin sat the glass on the desk next to his bed and crossed the room to find a suitable pair of clothes for running errands. The throbbing of harsh morning light had faded into a slight tingle above his neck thanks to Gaius’s tried and true hangover remedy. He peered over his shoulder to witness Gwaine lifting the glass to his lips. He took a swig then promptly doubled over cursing and coughing furiously.
“You don’t like it?” Merlin asked innocently.
“Very funny, Merlin.” He didn't need to look to see the smile on the Gwaine’s face, it seemed to stay nestled in his cheeks whenever Merlin was in the room. He made another pained gulping sound.
“Why are you up so early? Classes don’t start till tomorrow, right?” Gwaine asked, though he probably planned to stay in bed all day regardless of the answer.
“Exactly, there’s a lot to do. I’m going to the store later, do you need anything?”
“No, thanks. Hey, pass me that shirt would you?” Gwaine pointed in the vague direction of his belongings sprawled on the floor. The now empty cup clicked on the night stand.
A blinding scent not unlike forgotten dairy hit him square in the face and he lowered the garment from his nose, “I think these are all dirty…”
Gwaine leaned over the edge of his bed to snatch it from his hands, “nothing a little axe body spray can’t save!”
“I think it’s prohibited in the dorm rooms actually.” Gwaine dismissed him with a scoff and the warlock made a mental note to buy deodorant later at the store.
“And Gwaine,” Merlin crowded the ledge of Gwaine’s bed and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. The other man’s sleep tinted smile softened as he leaned in, “your side of the room is a pigsty.” Gwaine knocked his shoulder away offended and fell back on his pillow with a groan.
*****
On the first day of classes, Merlin awoke 30 minutes before his lecture started. He was fairly certain he remembered where his literature hall was from their walk to the bar the other night, and the effort of finding a map seemed a worse threat than tardiness to his sleep-addled mind. He changed clothes, splashed cold water on his face and sloshed a bit of mouthwash around and he was out the door.
The walk started out fine, honey sunlight stretched far across the pavement in the morning hour. A few students here and there, but nothing like the crammed sidewalks before afternoon classes. Confident as ever, he strolled up to a building with some random dead British bloke’s name etched over the great stone archway. Not even close to the building he was looking for.
It took him 5 more minutes of circling himself before he pulled up the campus directory in shameful defeat. The walk to Bayard’s Hall would be at least another 10 minutes, putting his arrival at 15 minutes after the scheduled start of the lecture. Sweat began to collect in little pools in the creases of his white T-shirt. This better be an easy class.
He finally reached the correct hall, sweat freezing on his skin under the sudden blast of AC. Welcome speeches and textbooks hitting desks accompanied his speedwalk down the hallway. He skimmed the placards next to each door until he found the one reading Freeman and pushed the cracked door just wide enough to slip in. There were a few lone chairs sandwiched between yawning students in the higher rows, but climbing up there was sure to draw attention. He opted for one of two empty seats on the edge of the first row. The professor was gracious, or perhaps hard of hearing, and didn’t seem to notice Merlin’s entrance. In fact, the voice was familiar, and quite soothing in a strange way, he thought as he rummaged in his backpack for the assigned textbook.
The front wall of the room held an impressive chalkboard with the words “British Literature” etched in the center. In front of it stood Professor Freeman, though Merlin knew him better as Gaius. Same clunky walk as he made his way to write down a page number, same legendary eyebrow when his head snapped to some chattering students. Merlin didn’t think he would ever get used to the strange surge of magic and memory intertwined and coursing to his heart till it beat with the same fervor as the last day he saw such an old friend. Gaius’s skin was pale and dead the last time he laid eyes on his found father.
“In this class you will be evaluated…” the voice droned as Merlin flipped through the lengthy book. He recognized most of the material, mostly classics and some older stuff towards the back, a few completely inaccurate accounts of his teenage years.
Gaius must have closed the door at some point because Merlin heard it click open about 40 minutes past 8. Standing awkwardly in the doorway, Arthur grimaced at the squeaky hinges which caught the attention of most everyone in the room, save a few students who’d already fallen asleep. In that split second, all of Merlin’s terrible memories from two nights prior jolted through his senses. The colorful lights, Arthur’s fist in his stomach, the stench covering Arthur’s shoes. Heat swarmed his cheeks and neck. The wood grain on the desk suddenly became very fascinating to stare at and he prayed desperately that Arthur wouldn’t recognize him from the top of his head.
Gaius’s review of the syllabus paused mid thought, “Pendragon…” he set the chalk in its holder and spun to face the newest addition.
“I’m really sorry Gai- uh Professor Freeman.” A few snickers and gasps popcorned in the higher rows.
“You are the single person in this room who should know my policy on tardiness. That door closes at 30 after, end of story” His voice was stern but not without a lightness that told Merlin the professor was definitely enjoying this. Arthur didn't seem too keen to argue in front of the entire class but Merlin knew he would never just walk out with his tail between his legs.
“Just this once,” Gaius compromised and signaled to the empty chair next to Merlin. Arthur audibly groaned the second he saw Merlin’s face which unfortunately resembled a strawberry more than a human at the moment. A twisted kind of pep that matched his sick grin propelled his feet to the neighboring desk.
“Feeling better there, Merlin?” His heart skipped a beat at the thought of Arthur remembering his name. Then again, who wouldn’t remember the name of the guy who tried to fight you twice and then threw up on you?
“Hello,” Merlin barely nodded in his direction.
“Still think I’m a terrible person then?” He mused. The amusement behind his question wasn’t helping with Merlin’s boiling-over humiliation.
“I’m trying to listen.” Merlin put all the exasperation he could into the statement, daring a sideways glance at Arthur while his head stayed glued to the board.
“I didn’t take you as the listening type.”
“Well, you don’t know me,” Merlin quipped coldly, hoping to discourage Arthur from opening his beautiful lips again.
“I’d say I know you pretty well, I’ve seen you vomit.” Just as stubborn as ever. Merlin sighed loudly and snapped his head to Arthur, who’d been smirking at him for gods knows how long. He squeezed his lips together tightly and narrowed his glare, but his cheeks were traitorously turning up.
Gaius cleared his throat, “Gentlemen.”
“Sorry,” they responded in unison. The old man nodded curtly, and Merlin could’ve sworn he saw him wink.
“If you will all turn to page 24 of the textbook,” He continued, his voice rumbling nicely over the wooden desks. Merlin joined the harmony of flipping pages and tried to ignore Arthur’s inquisitive stare. His neighbor leaned back in his seat with crossed arms, no intention of even bothering with the book. The warlock doubted there was anything of importance in his deflated backpack anyway. He heard Arthur scoff next to him and for some reason, that was the last straw.
“What is your problem?” Arthur’s lip quirked at the obvious rise he was getting out of Merlin. “Do you want an apology?” More staring. “New pair of shoes?” Arthur chuckled and finally turned away. He figured Arthur got his enjoyment tormenting him for the day and swiped a few more pages till he found the paragraph Gaius had instructed them to read. He’d probably mastered the contents of this textbook and every textbook at some point in his existence, but keeping busy on schoolwork was often the only thing keeping him from existential crisis.
Deliberate footsteps approached their side of the row, and Gaius cleared his throat, standing halfway over Arthur’s desk. The object of his attention was very poorly concealing his phone under the desk.
“Arthur!” Gaius snapped, getting the attention of half the room. Merlin snorted, which earned him a death glance from both of them.
“Can you please explain to me what you are doing right now?” Arthur scooted up in the chair and fumbled to sit on his phone.
“Nothing sir, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing?” Gaius raised his brow and leaned over further.
“I mean...” Arthur's stutters matched his frantic glancing around for a better answer, “just getting my textbook out, sir.”
“Good. Because for a moment there I thought you were on your phone.” Gaius stood grinning proudly while several giggles bounced in the rows behind them. He swiveled on his foot and returned to the chalkboard, shaking with quiet laughter. He retrieved the little white chunk from its holder and wrote the word “Victorian” on the board. Merlin was already feeling his old friend boredom creeping in behind his eyelids. And besides, he wasn’t too fond of Victorian times anyway.
“Psst” Merlin jolted from his daze to find Arthur’s finger drumming on his open page.
“Give me your textbook,” he whispered sharply. His eyes darted between Gaius and Merlin, ready to retract his guilty hand at a second's notice.
“What!” Merlin exclaimed a bit too loudly, “No!” He slid his hand protectively around the book’s corner. If their hands brushed it was just an unavoidable cost of defending his property.
“C’mon Merlin, you owe me one.” He urged, audaciously spreading his palm flat on the page and sliding the book ever so slightly toward himself. Merlin plucked the intruder’s hand off but Arthur seized the top of the book’s spine with his other hand and yanked it from his hold before Merlin could react.
“Give me that!” He strained his whisper to make as little noise as possible though it just ended up sounding more put off. Arthur's reflexes beat all of his reaches, and the merciless young Pendragon bit the insides of his cheeks at Merlin’s rising frustration.
Whatever. At any rate Arthur needed the textbook much more than he did. Arthur stood the book upright on the desk and snaked his phone between the open pages before leaning back with a smug grin.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it Merlin?”
He clenched his hands to keep from flipping the desk right there. Merlin was not about to let this breach of respect go unpunished. He straightened his knee under the desk, angling it slightly to his right, and with all the strength he could muster, kicked back on the leg of Arthur’s chair.
The result was beautiful. Arthur caught himself with an elbow before his bottom hit the ground, but his phone wasn't so lucky. Merlin beamed as he snatched the book.
The victory was short lived, of course. Gaius had graciously granted them his full attention in the midst of their fighting and his eyebrow was now higher than the ceiling.
“Both of you! Out of my class!” Merlin was getting too old for this.
Arthur muttered something and shoved Merlin’s chair into the desk then stormed out of the room. Merlin fought the urge to retaliate and opted for angrily stuffing his belongings in his bag before following Arthur out. The second the door clicked shut, Arthur was at him in one of the worst moods Merlin had ever witnessed. And that was saying something.
“Great job MERlin, now we’re both kicked out!”
“Oh, as opposed to just me? You’re the one who stole my book!”
“You couldn’t have done me just one tiny favor?”
“I don’t owe you any favors!”
“You threw up on me!”
“You punched me in the stomach!”
“You came at me first!” Merlin didn't know when Arthur got close enough to jab his fingers in his chest, but suddenly he lost his balance and hit the wall.
“Ow!” He rubbed his now sore collarbones and shot his most disappointed scowl at Arthur.
“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” He turned back with both hands pressed to his temples. Merlin’s heart flipped at the sincerity in his voice. He tried to focus his thoughts on the several issues already arising in their relationship, but Arthur’s back muscles were staring him down through his shirt. Ack! Bad Merlin! Oh- flier for an art exhibit this weekend! And someone should definitely replace that flickering light bulb.
Arthur shifted toward him expectantly.
“I’m sorry too, Arthur,” he said just above a whisper. Arthur’s genuine demeanor shrunk away like scared bandits from a certain sword wielding prince.
“You never told me how you knew my name,” He stepped toward him with an accusatory finger pointed.
“Um…” Merlin swallowed, “My- friend- told me before I walked over to you.” He shook his head and furrowed his brow as if warning Arthur not to push this any further. He needed time to figure things out before he revealed anything else, as much as he might want to.
“Huh.” His eyes jumped over Merlin’s stiff body again before he returned to his side of the hallway and sank down next to his bag. Merlin rocked on his heels, unsure of what to do with the lack of applicable conversation topics.
“Why doesn’t Professor Freeman like you?” He blurted, propping his feet out to lean against his backpack on the wall. Arthur looked up at him like a fallen UFO. The warlock, defeated, slid down the wall and exhaled loudly.
“It’s not that he doesn’t like me, he’s just known me for a while.” He said flatly.
“Oh.” Merlin drew out the word like a teacher talking to a preschooler while staring at a divot in the wall a few feet above messy blond hair.
Arthur rolled his eyes then continued, “He’s close with my father.”
“So your father is really the Chancellor then?”
“Are you interviewing me now?” His arms flew out and flopped to the ground beside him.
“Just making conversation.” He mumbled. A far away clock counted off their dreadful seconds together with a frankly disrespectful ticking.
The door opened and Gaius appeared with the choreographed lecture they were about to endure plainly visible on his face.
“I’m supposed to be teaching college students, not toddlers!” Gaius exclaimed with the door shut behind him.
“Arthur, I will not hesitate to fail you if you continue this behavior.” Gaius turned to Merlin, “And you, I suggest you stop fraternizing with him if you value your place at this University.” He shot Arthur a nasty glance while saying that last part.
They both muttered their apologies and scurried past him into the room where the entire back row was dozed over their abandoned reading.
“Prat” Merlin mumbled as Arthur walked behind him to his seat.
Arthur joined the sleeping bunch not too long after, and Merlin diligently doodled several armored knights that looked like no one in particular for the balance of the lecture. He’d gotten good at art over the years, his own way of photographing secrets from many past lives.
Arthur flinched awake when a bustle of students crowded the door at Gaius’s dismissal. Merlin tried not to be too offended when Arthur groggily packed his things and left without so much as an irritated glance in his direction. He scolded his brain once again for its instinctual swooning over the blonde, he had better things to worry about now.
“Hi,” the warlock leaned awkwardly on the door frame of the professor’s office, smiling and trying to contain his urge to run over and squeeze the life out of the old man, “I’m Merlin.”
Gaius wasn’t halfway to his desk when he peered over his shoulder then pointedly continued walking to his lived-in corner. Once he slumped into the rickety old chair and folded his hands over his stomach, he addressed the visitor.
“I know who you are.” A silent gasp left the warlock and he shifted on his feet, unsure of what all that statement entailed. “You’re Emrys.” The old man's voice was cautious but curious, Merlin felt uneasy under his evaluation. His eyes seemed defensive as he scanned Merlin’s ordinary clothes, his unassuming appearance. “Come in.”
He crossed the small office in a few steps and hovered next to the desk, suddenly craving the fresh morning air over this fluorescent lit trap he feared he might be walking into. Then Gaius’s smile broke through the stone face, his dear friend now recognizable in this strange modern setting.
“Welcome back.” He held out a hand and Merlin chuckled at the familiar warmth in his touch.
“Do you,” Merlin tilted his head, trying to think of a tactful way to word this without overwhelming the other, “remember me?” The old man tilted his chin up curiously and drummed his finger as if calling back a name to a stranger’s face.
Merlin’s legs went heavy. The magic in his veins ran cold, and he swallowed back shattered hope. Gaius must have noticed, he gestured to the chair in front of the desk which Merlin promptly sank into.
“I’m sorry…” he said in his best attempt to quell Merlin’s distress, “am I supposed to?”
Merlin waved loosely and shook his head, “But you know what I’m doing here?”
“I’m afraid the prophecy I’m familiar with doesn’t reveal that bit…” Merlin saw a lightbulb turn on in the man’s head. “I know where you might find some answers though. The Chancellor strictly forbids the talk or study of magic, but I’ve heard whispers of students who defy him.” The warlock nodded him along, “a secret society, if you will.”
The chair complained under Merlin’s contemplative reclining. Surely there was no actual magic involved. He hadn’t seen so much as a druid rune in a millennia.
“They call themselves,” Gaius lowered his chin and whispered like someone might be standing right outside, “The Dolma.” The warlock blinked in surprise and began to laugh uncontrollably. “Dolma, you said!?”
“Keep your voice down!” Merlin’s laughter fizzled into an awkward cough when he caught sight of his professor’s questioning eyebrow. That eyebrow could wake him from the dead.
“Sorry, it’s just, that name… I think I’ve heard it somewhere.” Merlin did his best to look professional as Gaius continued his silent interrogation.
“The loony bin it seems,” The old man always had to put him in his place.
Merlin cleared his throat, “And they meet here? At the school?”
“Yes child, but I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”
*****
He was the first person in his next class. The morning’s events had burned him from wanting to risk being late. The professor was mulling around the office in the front corner when Merlin poked his head into the empty room. He sprawled his things at the foot of a chair in one of the middle rows. The next person to enter the room was surprisingly Guinevere and he smiled brightly at her before remembering himself. She smiled back of course, delicate curls landing on her dimples as she walked through the rows of desks. She didn't appear bothered by his staring and simply sat in the chair next to him.
“I hope it’s ok if I sit here, I’m Gwen.”
“Yes, yes of course, I’m Merlin,” He held out a hand and she shook it timidly. They glanced back and forth for a moment before Gwen giggled, “How’s your first day going?” Terrible!
“Could be worse, you?”
“This is my first class. I’m a bit nervous.”
“Yeah,” Merlin nodded, racking his brain for something normal to say, “It’s weird being away from home.”
“Yes!” She slammed her palm on his desk, “I’ve already called my father three times today!”
Merlin laughed and recalled Tom with fondness. A pair of girls walked in and sat next to the back window.
“Does he live close?”
“Yes, he actually works on campus, he’s the locksmith.”
“Nice, nice,” he nodded. She pulled her hand away suddenly. He scratched the insides of his brains, petrified of slipping into the dark abyss of silence again, “I actually start my campus job in a few days.” Good, very inconspicuous.
“Oh, me too! Are you going to the welcome banquet on Sunday?” Merlin wasn’t planning to, but again, free food and the promise of not standing around alone.
“I might for a little while,” he shrugged.
“You definitely should. I hear Uth- the chancellor is planning a surprise from the vaults.”
“You know him?” Perhaps the grumpy old toad had learned to accept her and Arthur’s prophesied romance. The thought seared his guts just a little bit and he elected to ignore the idea altogether.
“I’m friends with his daughter Morgana.” She corrected, smiling around the name.
“Well let’s hope she turned out better than Arthur.” He smirked.
“You know Arthur?”
“Oh yeah, good bloke, definitely the highlight of my Literature class.” The mockery in his words flowed from a beautiful, authentic place of loathing. She laughed heartily, “yeah he’s a handful.”
*****
Gwaine wasn’t in the dorm when Merlin arrived back, though his memory was ever present in the growing pile of clothes that Merlin tripped over. He opened his laptop once situated on the bed then paused. Typing “The Dolma” into google felt slightly foolish, he probably should have kept up better with what legends became of his various escapades during his service in the royal household.
What he found was worse than he could have imagined: the first promising link he clicked on told of a half-sorceress, half-troll who lived in a bog outside of Camelot and tried to kill the Queen! The next one was somehow worse with the added detail of seducing Arthur! Outrageous! He supposed this was the price of his ignorance. Or perhaps Geoffrey knew all along who was responsible for (most of) the shenanigans in the royal library.
Back to the search bar: “The Dolma”, Merlin hands hovered over the keyboard, already sensing the internet’s lack of information on anything to do with this secret society, and added “Cambridge”. He gave up after a few minutes of mindless scrolling, asking Gwaine would have been more informative than this.
“Emrys” The hairs on his neck stood up.
“Emrys” He knew that voice, his brain strained to recognize it.
“Emrys” Mordred. Mordred’s voice was calling him. The image of the small boy in the courtyard stole his attention, pale with fear and heavy grief, so strong and fearless when he ran to Merlin's arms. His eyes welled at the pale yellow memory.
“Emrys” The brave knight whose eyes lit up at Arthur’s praise, and searched Merlin’s for anything other than contempt. A tidal wave of guilt knocked the air from his lungs, infinitely more painful than the passive rains of grief or loneliness. The thought was shut away and kept behind a thousand locked doors in the deepest reserves of Merlin's memory. The thought - the fact - that Mordred and Arthur may have died at each other’s hands, but that Merlin was truly responsible.
White spots came over his vision like ruptured destinies, tragedies that he alone had set in motion. Emptiness gutted him from the inside out and left his whole body trembling and his mind void of reason. Sweat prickled trails along his skin but he couldn’t feel anything past the clenching in his chest. Time slowed and sped, abandoning him on the endless spiraling stairway of his existence, the thought of breathing for another second, of taking another step, became impossible.
He didn’t know how long had passed like that before he registered two careful weights squeezing his shoulders. The pressure was like a light in the storm and he chased it, reaching for his own shoulders and finding warm hands to grasp onto. Another voice rose over the resounding pang in his skull.
“Merlin? Merlin!” The owner of the voice shifted his hands to cradle his back and neck and the weight of the mattress shifted beside him.
“It’s ok Merlin, I’m here.” It was Gwaine who sat beside him. Sobs tore from his throat while the firm hands rocked him soothingly.
“What happened?” He asked the question like a statement. Merlin fought to steady his breath, burning humiliation hot on the tail of ration flooding back into his mind and making it nearly impossible to lift his eyes. When he did, he was met with an understanding he didn’t think he’d find so late in life. Somehow it felt as though Gwaine knew his lament, like someone else stepping beside him to shoulder the weight.
No, no one else could know. Merlin had undeservingly been gifted a second chance with the people he loved most, and he wasn’t about to scare them away with his rightful burden. As much as Gwaine’s eyes pleaded sincerely for some kind of explanation, Merlin knew he’d seen too much already.
“I’m fine.” He wiped at his face, pushing back the redness and tears climbing up. He forced a chuckle, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Gwaine rubbed circles between Merlin’s shoulder blades. “Merl-”
“I have to go.” Uncertainty bubbled in his syllables and he hardly uttered the phrase before launching off the bed.
“Merlin are you sure you’re -”
“I’m fine Gwaine, really.” The plastered smile ached on his cheeks. He grabbed his bag and stepped for the door, still open from when Gwaine rushed in. He could feel a pair of worried eyes tracking his movement until he shut it harshly.
The silence in the hallway gave a momentary reprieve from the doubt talking over his thoughts.
“Emrys”
The voice turned his stomach. But it came from the left. He started briskly down the hallway. He caught himself before crashing into someone as they swung their door open and mumbled a hasty apology. If the man called an insult after him, Merlin didn’t hear, his entire consciousness tracked the noise as it overcame the rest.
The back exit of the hallway dumped him out into the parking lot, the call slipping from his reach into the open wind. His ankles skimmed bumpers as he ran along the soot covered wall until he reached the building's corner. A relatively empty green stretch lay ahead, divided by three diverging sidewalk paths.
His indecision resolved when the voice practically slapped his right cheek. He took off running in that direction, eventually reaching the other side of campus and chasing the whisper down every corridor between the various buildings. He worried he might not find his way back at his point, but the voice set fire under his heels. He wouldn’t stop until he found Mordred.
There were hardly any students, or people at all, in this corner of campus. He could see the edge of campus just past the outermost buildings, a collection of dorm halls no longer in use. He almost didn’t see it, but he felt it, the gravity in a small crevice separating two nearly crumbling buildings.
The voice led him over and under toppled stones and into an unfamiliar courtyard. The clearing seemed... charged, plant life unfolded from the bed of stone, a stark contrast to the well-tended lawns on the rest of campus. His heart pounded as the name echoed behind a curtain of ivy like Mordred was standing just behind its cover. Bits of rock sounded on the concrete beyond the wall, invisible from where he stood. He reached out tentatively and flung the green strings aside, ready to defend himself.
The corridor beyond was breathtaking, and fortunately empty, and he exhaled while his heartbeat calmed. An undeniable magic radiated from the stones, seeping through the cracks and swirling the dust around his feet.
“Emrys” the voice was again a distant whisper, it seemed Mordred’s quest wasn’t yet over. The prominent sound fizzled into circles outside his head making it impossible to pin down the direction of its owner. He took a step forward, figuring the voice wanted him to follow this mysterious path. Low hanging sunlight filled the gaps between leaves, the path grew darker as the ivy draped thicker along the arches until the stone disappeared completely.
It had to have been over a minute of walking when he checked behind him and found no indication of his progress. Frustrated, he tossed a revelation spell into the strange air before him and watched in awe as the ivy evaporated from the stone. Walls taller than he could see the tops of appeared underneath. On the right wall stood a simple wooden door straight out of Camelot’s servant quarters. Someone was talking on the other side.
He pressed his ear to the cool wood, his skin tingling against the vibrating magic. He could hear faint conversation on the other side. Morgana’s voice. His knees faltered and he stepped back to keep from falling into the door.
He didn’t think he could face this again. He was too late. Arthur’s bane had returned with him, the destructive partnership had somehow formed before Merlin could even find his way back to the king.
“Emrys…” Mordred taunted him from behind the door. Merlin was more than sure of it. But he couldn’t very well swing the door open and walk right in, so he angled his neck uncomfortably, straining to pick up their words.
The door opened suddenly, Merlin ducked behind it and out walked Morgana, Gwen, Freya, and Morgause.
“I’ll catch up with you guys.” Mordred spoke from right inside the doorway.
“Don’t be too long in there, Mordred,” Morgana called behind her. Their laughing voices dissolved until only he and Mordred remained in the corridor. Merlin held his breath as slow footsteps rounded the door. Wide blue eyes discovered him and pierced his resolve. He could knock the boy aside with a twitch of his finger and leave this strange place, but his body wouldn’t move.
“Emrys,” Mordred whispered in awe.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Merlin tried to sidestep him but Mordred grabbed his wrist. His face was desperate.
“Look, I know you have no reason to trust us. All we want is to see the Old Religion peacefully restored. But we need your help to do that, Emrys.” He softened his grip enough for Merlin to pull his arm away. Merlin shook his head, deliberating the words he ought to say. Mordred could be telling him anything between the earnest truth and a well-practiced lie he’d been saving for this very moment. He needed more time to think.
“I don’t- I…” he stuttered, residual afternoon tears strangling his words. He stepped back. Mordred didn’t stop him. The druid watched him stumble backwards down the corridor, never letting up his heavy gaze. Soft green petals tickled his neck, and suddenly he was standing under the cold night in the courtyard again. Mordred had disappeared behind the curtain.
He found his way through the rubble and out to the street, starting briskly the way he came. The journey here covered a sizable distance, and Merlin groaned at the chill beginning to settle beneath his thin layers. To make matters worse, walking with no one but his thoughts was already proving a painful endeavor.
The pavement hummed under approaching wheels and headlights illuminated the sidewalk as the car rounded a corner. He tried to convince himself the sound of brakes was his own mind’s creation after a long day, but sure enough, the car rumbled to a stop just a few feet ahead of him. He pulled his arms crossed and forced his eyes down on the sidewalk.
“Merlin!” A sweet voice exclaimed from inside the car. His steps halted reluctantly.
“Gwen!” He responded through gritted teeth. Her head peeked over the console from the back seat. In the driver’s seat sat none other than Arthur Pendragon, desk mate and asshole extraordinaire. He made out dark curls in the seat next to Gwen which he assumed to be Morgana’s. He let out an audible groan and promised himself he would practice his transportation magic to avoid future incidents like this.
“What are you doing over here in the dark?” She yelled over the engine.
“I got lost,” he called back, feet already swiveling to resume the long walk ahead. She looked at Arthur and whispered something to which he rolled his eyes and put the car in park.
“Get in, we’ll give you a ride!” She beamed.
“No, no, it’s really not necessary!” He yelled, the cold biting through his voice more than he meant.
“Please, it’s dark out and it’s getting cold.”
“Really, I’ll be fine!”
“Merlin,” she warned, her tone too insistent to deny. He trudged over the concrete and into the glaring headlights, immediately regretting his decision to take the short way around the front of the car.
A physical partition between the driver and passenger seats would have offered a warmer reception than Arthur who was currently fixated on the road with his fingers practically scratching off the steering wheel cover. Merlin twisted around to acknowledge Gwen and Morgana with a nervous wave.
“Morgana, I don’t know why you don’t just bring your own car on campus if you insist on going to these girlish meetings every week.” He bit, side eyeing Merlin on his expensive leather seat.
“Your lack of appreciation for the theatre arts is embarrassing.” Morgana spat from the back seat. Gwen crammed her face into Morgana’s shoulder as she giggled uncontrollably. Their whispers were just loud enough to pick up the words Arthur and moron, though Merlin guessed that was on purpose.
“I will never understand you theatre nerds.” More laughter shook the backseat while Arthur gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles whitened.
Merlin was giggling now too, “thespians, right?” he mused. That earned him a kick on the back of his seat and a sneer from the driver’s side though he could see the smile play at his lips when he faced forward again.
“Where do you live?” He asked dryly.
“You can just drop me off before Parker’s.” He replied, opting for the destination that provided the shortest possible ride without drawing suspicion from Gwen. Besides, driving on Trumpington was a nightmare and Merlin was pretty sure Arthur’s stock of good deeds was depleted for the day, if there were ever any to begin with.
“Nonsense Merlin!” Gwen cooed with infuriating kindness.
Merlin sagged ever lower in the seat, “Peterhouse, but don’t go out of your way.”
“It’s no problem, I live in Peterhouse too!” She exclaimed.
“You do!” Merlin cringed at his bizarre combination of a question, a statement, and an insult.
Morgana drew Gwen back into their hushed conversation while the front of the car returned to earsplitting quietness. The low volume techno house music somehow made the environment worse, especially when Arthur started tapping his fingers and shimmying his head to the beat. Arthur drove pretty fast, the buildings blurred outside the window he’d taken to observing each tiny speck of dirt on. He sensed curious glances on the back of his head.
“You should get a car wash.” He taunted, still staring out the window.
Arthur scoffed and swiveled his head back to the road, “you should get a car.” He gave Merlin a cheeky smile at his defeated silence. He was right, though Merlin had never gotten used to the idea of driving. A horse, now that would be a game changer for this bloody enormous campus.
Thanks to Arthur’s speeding, they reached Peterhouse in a matter of minutes.
“You want me to walk you in?” Morgana asked, sliding her hand over Gwen’s.
“I’ll be fine, I don’t want to keep you any longer.” She tipped her head toward Arthur with a knowing look at her friend. Morgana giggled and let her eyes daze on Gwen’s bright features which flickered sweetly under the attention.
“Goodnight, Morgana,” she chuckled and slid her hand free.
“Thanks for the ride,” Merlin mumbled before making quick work of the handle.
“Anytime.” His sarcasm was truly impressive. He slammed the door as hard as he could without risking damage to the stupidly luxurious vehicle. The car loitered across the street at Morgana’s protective insistence, and whether Arthur’s gaze tracked his mysterious new acquaintance with a smile he convinced himself was a grimace, Merlin would never know.