Chapter Text
Rain hammered down on the slick grey cobblestones that made up the grand entrance to Camelot Castle, the ancient and imposing backdrop for the next year of Merlin’s life. The sound of it would have had a calming effect on him, as raindrops on a window or flickering fireplaces always did, were he not caught in the middle of the downpour, his thin brown jacket clinging to his arms. He gripped onto the straps of his soaked rucksack, now almost black, and slipped. He managed to recover and looked around to see if anyone had caught it. Just behind him, a group of tall, strong-looking boys pushed each other around amicably and laughed, overtaking him to get out of the rain. They hadn’t seen. Merlin kept his head down and picked up his speed, conscious that he was already late for his first class and as a result, had probably failed his main objective: not to draw attention to himself on his first day at Camelot.
Not drawing attention to himself was a main priority for Merlin for two reasons. Firstly, he had visions, and that was an expellable offence in Camelot Castle, whose ruthless head teacher saw any dreams, illusions or insights into the future as cheating. For what was the point in hard work, persistence and diligence when you could see the answers to the exam questions before they had even been set? And secondly, but no less importantly, because he was a socially awkward teenage boy and the best way to get along whilst being a socially awkward teenage boy was to lie low, at least for the time being.
Merlin paused as he reached the classroom, the thick wooden door ajar. He looked inside and saw to his pleasant surprise that he was not as late as he had feared, or at least, there were still a few empty stools he could choose from. The room was relatively small, lined with tall benches and stools tucked behind them, with enough space for the fifteen or so students that he guessed he would be sharing his classes with. One wall of the room was hidden behind floor to ceiling bookcases. Heavy volumes lay stacked on top of each other in strange arrangements on the shelves to accommodate small vials of liquids, brittle looking plants, or brittle looking plants inside small vials of liquid.
On the opposite wall were the narrow stained glass windows that looked out onto the courtyard - Merlin could see the turrets of the far side of the school through them, broken up through uneven shards of red and yellow and green. Beneath the windows and all along the back wall was a low bench upon which sat all manner of pots, pans, cauldrons and goblets for whatever reasons they were needed - he had yet to find out. His fingers twitched at the sight of them, reminding him of the home and the life he had left behind. The room smelt vaguely of woodsmoke and herbs, as if something had been burned and hastily put out during the previous class. It didn’t take many lessons in this room before Merlin realised that in fact the smell was embedded, buried in the lines of the books or perhaps the lines of the professor’s face.
“Come here boy,” A sharp voice called to him. An old man, perhaps in his late sixties, though it was hard to tell, set the quill he was writing with in its inkpot and arched an eyebrow at Merlin. Merlin did as he was told, and hastily made his way towards the front desk.
“You must be Merlin.” He started, not getting up from his seat. His voice was low, as if this were a secret, and Merlin wondered whether he was keeping this conversation quiet for his benefit, to not embarrass him in front of his new classmates. He found himself reassured by this, and already began to trust the man.
“Yes sir.” Merlin nodded shyly.
“Yes. I had received word from your mother that you would be arriving this week.” The older man said. His voice sounded a little bit like rumbling thunder and a lot like the croak of a perturbed frog. The teacher didn’t seem overly interested in him, his attention moving back to picking his quill back up and continuing with his writing. Merlin stood in front of him for a few moments more, unsure if that was the end of the conversation, but after what he perceived to be an awkward amount of time to stare at someone he walked away, finding the stool closest to the window. He pulled out a thin leather-bound book from his bag and placed it in front of him. A quill and ink was already on the table for his use, so he began to write out the date at the top of a blank page.
The sounds of running feet and breathy male laughter broke his concentration. A group of boys smiled and punched each other on the shoulders as they entered the classroom. Two of them were tall and strong, with thick arms and long dark hair that could only be described using words like tousled or dishevelled. They walked in first, waving an apologetic hand at the teacher in front of the class before settling down at the back, wringing out their sleeves and shaking their heads like wet dogs, laughing as rain spattered each other's faces. Then two more boys walked in, one tall with closely cut mousey brown hair, the other slightly shorter, with short blond hair, his eyes a clear blue. The taller boy jostled the blond boy to the front of the class, running off to take the third seat next to the other two at the back.
“Ah, Mr Pendragon. If you’d be so kind as to sit down, I’d like to start my lesson.” The teacher arched his eyebrow at the blond boy.
“Yes Gaius.” He replied, without the decency to look sheepish for his late arrival. He held his head high and strutted to the back of the class, before stopping, seeing that the three seats were full. The other boys grinned at him goofily and pointed over to where Merlin perched on his own, the last remaining seat unoccupied next to him. With a sigh, the boy sat down next to him and fidgeted on his stool, spreading his knees out wide so that they knocked Merlin’s by accident. Merlin looked at him at the contact, expecting some sort of apology, or greeting, he wasn’t sure what, but the other boy looked him up and down and frowned at him distastefully before looking away again, his eyes trained on the wall at the front.
“I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?” He asked, still not looking at Merlin. He spoke the words as if he was tired of the conversation before it had even started.
“Merlin. You?” He responded shortly.
“Arthur Pendragon.” The blond boy replied, still not looking Merlin in the eye.
“Right.” Merlin replied. Everything about Arthur screamed arrogance, and he wondered if he would ever have to talk to this boy again. His apparent indifference was infectious, and Merlin found himself concentrating once more on writing out the contents of the board at the front of the class into his book. Professor - Gaius.
“Right?” Arthur said, turning to look at him for the first time. His eyebrows were raised in amusement, but the sentiment had not yet reached his mouth. “You sound like you don’t know who I am, Merlin.”
Merlin smiled sarcastically. “Should I know who you are, Arthur?” He retorted. The word tasted bitter on his tongue.
“I’m Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon. The headmaster.” Arthur crossed his arms over himself and smiled triumphantly at him. The boys at the back of the class snickered as they listened in on the conversation, which was continuing much louder than Merlin would have liked.
Merlin smiled sharply at him in response. “Well then Arthur, son of Uther, I wish you all the best on getting a personality more interesting than just being the son of someone important,” he replied with mock sincerity. Arthur looked shocked and laughed humorously once, as the boys behind him “oooh”ed in appreciation. Whatever he was about to say next was lost, cut off by the teacher’s introduction.
Gaius stood up slowly and straightened, holding his hands behind his back, his long red robes swishing against the floor as he moved. “Now that we are all here,” he looked pointedly at Arthur, “we will start. I am Gaius. I will be teaching you herbology. Don’t give me that look Gwaine, this is the year I attempt to put some wisdom into that thick skull of yours. You will be surprised to find that you can’t rely on muscle for everything.” Gaius walked around his desk, coming to stand in front of Merlin and Arthur’s bench.
“I expect you all to arrive promptly to my class in the future lest you be locked out and fall behind your peers.” Gaius looked meaningfully at Arthur, who frowned and looked away grumpily. What a petulant boy. Merlin thought he could see the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of the professor’s mouth as he looked, and wondered whether he had overheard their introductions. From the slight smile, he was sure he had.
The lesson began, and continued, for an hour. Despite the awkward start, it wasn’t going too badly. Time with plants was something that Merlin had plenty of in his life before Camelot, and as such, he felt optimistic at the prospect of identifying the leaves of henbane and hibiscus. Arthur however, either didn’t care enough to try, or just didn’t want to engage with Merlin any more than he already had. If the plants in front of them could cringe at the way he was looking at them, they would have. Arthur sighed dramatically, then picked a leaf from the table, examining it closely, cupping it in his hands so Merlin couldn’t see it.
“Henbane.” He said, writing the word down on his parchment for apparently no reason. Merlin was mildly impressed he could write, then reminded himself that he was the son of a headmaster. That must have given him something other than an almighty stick up his ass.
“Do you mind if I check?” Merlin replied. He was not going to let this boy drag him nor his grades down, no matter how rude he was to him. Arthur rolled his eyes and passed the leaf across without looking. Merlin took it from him and felt the underside of it, knowing full well it was henbane by looking at it, but confirming it with his hands too.
“Henbane.” He confirmed.
“Told you.” Arthur replied.
This went on for a few minutes longer - Arthur, carefully identifying leaves, writing words in his book and then Merlin, carefully verifying or disputing his verdict, and writing his own words in his own book. After perhaps the second or third leaf, the two stopped talking entirely, creating an awkward chain of silent leaf fondling and writing that seemed to suit both boys just fine.
A deep bell toll resonated across the courtyard to reach the classroom to announce the end of the lesson. Merlin released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and grabbed his bag, practically sprinting out the classroom. He knocked into Arthur’s back on the way out but couldn’t find it in himself to care. He felt rather than heard him walking out after him, huffing in anger.
It was still raining outside, but Merlin headed to the courtyard anyway. His head was pounding, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the stress of starting school, a developing cold, building irritation at his new classmate or a noxious combination of all three. His eyes felt wrong too, like he couldn’t see anything in focus. It must be another migraine, he thought in frustration. He had been getting them a lot lately, especially after a vision. He put his hand to his head in a futile attempt to ease the pain, as if pressing his temples in just the right spot would push the pain away with it. One lesson in, and he was already exhausted.
He readjusted the strap on his bag, fiddling with the buckle, until his attention was pulled up urgently at the sound of a horse’s whinny. A huge white horse bolted from the stable across the courtyard and headed straight to him, rearing up in panic when it reached him. Merlin didn’t have time to react, only to hold his arms up across his face, shielding his head. He felt its front hoofs graze his arm and whinny once more, before being pulled away into a gallop. Merlin lowered his hands, his heartbeat shaking through his body, watching as it galloped away, a rider perched atop it. He saw only a flash of red before they were gone.