Title: Albion Rising

Fandom: Merlin (BBC TV)

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight violence, about what you would see on the show, and mild language, also about what you would see on the show.

Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, others will be listed if added

Spoilers: The whole damn series

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Merlin. Would be nice if I did. My car is making funny noises…

Summary: It's been centuries since Camelot stood tall. Now it's magic stirs again. Key players awaken. The Round Table reconvenes. King and Queen are reunited. Friends and foes meet once more. This time, it's not Albion that needs saving. It's Merlin.

Author's Note: She lives! So adulating sucks in the worst way possible. It's a massive time and inspiration suck, but I'm being stubborn and soldiering through. Thank you all for sticking with me. I'm still working on editing and rewriting Return of Merlin. So, it may be a little while still before there's a new chapter. I have big plans for that story and I want to do it justice. In the meantime, here's the next chapter of Albion Rising. Enjoy!

PS: There may be ridiculous typos in this because I was more interested in posting than I was in editing. Sorry.

Chapter 3

Mordred woke with a crick in his neck and twinge in his spine. He was propped against the foot of the bed, his head tipped back awkwardly to rest against the edge of the mattress. He was half slumped over onto the floor. One buttock was tingling with pins and needles. His wrist ached where it was twisted awkwardly behind his back.

Grunting slightly, he blinked and looked around groggily. Sunlight was spilling into the room trough curtains that he had neglected to close in the chaos of the previous night. Mordred groaned again and pressed his eyes closed against the unwelcome brightness. Slowly, he pushed himself upright into a more conventional seated position rather than remain in a crumpled heap. A crack emanated form his spine as he straightened, sending sharp tendrils of pain up and down his back. Biting back several ancient oaths, he grit his teeth and persisted until he was sitting up, his legs stretched out in front of him. He rubbed tiredly at the small of his back and took stock.

He felt a little more like himself, whatever that meant, than he had the night before. Or perhaps he simple felt more settled, less like there were two people at war inside his head or more like all the memories in his head belonged to him. The two facets of himself had been given the time they needed to meld and become one, to become balanced.

Grief still hung heavily on his heart. It was more manageable, but just as piercing as it had been last night and as it had been twelve centuries before. He doubted that it would ever truly fade. The guilt and grief would always linger. He wasn't entirely sure that he would have it any other way.

He heaved himself to his feet, groaning, "Bloody hell," as he did and held out one hand without thinking. His phone flew across the room after detaching itself from the charger cord on his bedside table. That was going to take some getting used to. Mordred scrolled through his phone until he found the number for Maxwell Drake, the older gentleman who owned The BookShop. He knew that he wasn't anything resembling fit for company at the moment. His unintended magic was proof that he didn't have much in the way of control and while he was no longer reeling from his awakening, he doubted that he would be able to act as he had before he had remembered with any degree of believability. It would raise questions that he wasn't ready to answer.

The phone rang for nearly three minutes before kicking over to an answering machine and the gravelly voice of his boss filtered through the speaker.

Mordred bit back a sigh of relief. He wasn't entirely sure what he would have done if he'd actually needed to speak to another person.

"You have reached Maxwell Drake, owner and proprietor of The BookShop on Main Street. Please leave your name, number, and reason for calling after the beep and I will return your call as soon as possible."

BEEP.

Belatedly, Mordred realized that he hadn't bothered to come up with any kind of excuse for why he would be missing his shift. He certainly couldn't tell the truth. His mouth opened and closed silently. Gods be damned, but what was he supposed to say?

A mechanical, female voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

"If you would like to listen to your message, press one. If you would like to save your message, press two. If you like to record your message again, press three."

He punched the "three" key and proceeded to fall back on the oldest trick in the book.

"Hello, Mr. Drake," he said in a voice rough with tears and sleep. Well, at least he sounded sick. "This is Robert Moore. I've got a bad case of he flu and can't make it in for my shift this morning. Sorry for the last minute notice. I will let you know if I feel better tomorrow. Have a nice day."

Ending the call, he swiped across the screen to lock the screen and tossed the phone back onto the bed. It was a good thing that Mr. Drake hadn't answered the phone. Mordred didn't think that he would have escaped the call without an interrogation. The old man could be frighteningly perceptive, especially when it came to matters concerning his shop.

"Right then," he sighed. "First order of business taken care of. The next, I suppose, is to get full control of my magic again. There's got to be someplace I can practice without attracting attention."

He dragged a hand through his hair. Across the room, his laptop flipped open by itself and turned on.

The parking lot outside of Galahad Hall Dormitory was teeming like an overturned anthill. Cars were jammed into every available parking spot – and into a few locations that weren't actually meant for vehicles.

A tent had been erected near the entrance to the dorm for resident check-in. A large cooler filled with water bottles stood open on a table just outside the shade cast by the tent. Students, parents, and volunteers bustled back and forth across the pavement, hauling boxes, suitcases and even furniture into the building. One girl nearly tripped over the curb and dropped the box she was carrying when she saw her friends. She immediately set the box on the ground so that she could sprint across the grass. They all squealed happily as they traded hugs. Three burly young men cursed loudly, but uncreatively, and complained about the lack of elevator as they tried to wrestle a bulky set of shelves up the stairs without dropping it or running someone over. All across the parking lot, people were shouting at one another to watch where they were going.

It was, in short, barely organizing chaos.

Grinning tiredly, Arthur Penn, third floor RA, dropped himself into one of the chairs in the registration tent. He wiped the sweat from his face and gingerly rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks he'd developed during his shift hauling boxes. It felt good to be out of the direct sunlight. As much as he enjoyed the frenetic energy of move-in day, he had been looking forward to his turn at the registration table for hours.

It was getting to be mid-afternoon and the check-ins had slowed to a trickle. At this point, Arthur's job was mostly to answer questions, direct traffic, and hang about at the registration table for the last students. Almost everybody had already arrived, but a few people had called to say that they were running late. One kid, a third year transfer student who happened to be on Arthur's floor, had called that morning with car trouble. He'd called in again two hours later to say that he and his parents were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. A bit of Googling had revealed an over turned eighteen-wheeler that had completely blocked the highway. They had ended up telling the poor kid to call when he was thirty minutes out so that they could arrange someone to meet him for check-in. There was no way he was going to make it before the designated time frame for dorm registration ended.

"Having fun?"

Arthur looked up to see his sister (half-sister, she always correct) and fellow RA standing over him, an amused smirk on his face. Arthur bit back a sigh.

"What do you want, Morgan?"

One elegant eyebrow lifted in an equally elegant arch. "What makes you think that I want anything?"

"You always want something."

She laughed lightly, a pretty tinkling sound, and lowered herself gracefully into the chair beside him. For a moment, she remained silent, watching the crowd with sharp eyes. The silence stretched a bit uncomfortably between them, but Arthur didn't break it. He knew Morgan well enough to know that she wouldn't speak until he was good and ready, no matter how frustrated he was.

"Do you have the feeling that something is about to happen?" she asked eventually, her voice quiet. He had to strain to hear it over the noise of the general chaos surrounding them.

Arthur blinked in confusion. "Do you have sunstroke?"

Morgan visibly snapped back to the present and whipped around to glare at him. "Of course not! I…oh, you know I can't explain it! I've had this feeling all day. Like this odd anticipation. I just…I just know that something is about to happen. And that it'll happen soon!

As inclined as he was to tease Morgan, the urgency in her voice stayed the quip that rose to Arthur's lips. Morgan had always had an uncanny awareness of impending events. He still remembered vividly the night that she had called him nearly two years before, sobbing in distress because she was certain that her parents were in danger. Less than a week later, their car had hit black ice when they were returning from a charity event and both her mother and father were killed on impact. Arthur hadn't doubter her since, not when she got that particular tone of urgency in her voice.

Arthur straightened in his chair and reached across to lay a hand on her arm. "I'll keep my eyes open for something life-changing," he promised.

She smiled back gratefully. "That's not actually what I was supposed to tell you, by the way. Everyone's checked in, except for the one kid. He checked in Leon not to long ago and they're still hours away. Apparently, it took forever to clear the wreck. Leon will check him in when he gets here. In the mean time, we can pack up and start meeting and greeting our residents."

Reflexively, Arthur glanced skyward. The sun was beginning to get rather low. He stood with a groan, tired muscles protesting at the movement.

"Did Leon say anything about the tent and the card table?" he asked.

"Leave them here. Someone is supposed to get them for the other dorms."

Arthur nodded. Together, they gathered the myriad clipboards, pens, and other check-in paraphernalia into a box that had been stowed under the table. Morgan helpfully took that box for him, leaving him with the far heavier box filled with completed registration forms. He gave her a glare, to which she just smirked in return. Together, they wove through the crowd, stopping to answer questions about where to find other buildings on campus or where things were located in the dorm itself. Eventually they made it to the front desk, where they dropped their boxes for the Senior RA to collect and file.

He caught Morgan's elbow before she head to the girls' side of the dorm. Her eyebrow lifted again.

"Hey, whatever it is that's coming, we'll figure it out," Arthur promised. "It would be like your parents."

Morgan smiled sadly. "Oh, Arthur. You can't possibly know that."

Merlin dropped the last box on the unmade bed and surveyed the crowded little room that would be his home for the next year. It was barely big enough to fit the twin bed and tiny desk that been crammed along one wall. With all of his boxes and bags unloaded from the car, there was barely room to walk. But it was his and his alone.

It was finally official. He was a junior transfer student at the University of Camelot, one of the premier colleges in Albion. After two years at the community college in Ealdor, he was finally here. Merlin still couldn't believe it. He'd even gotten a full ride scholarship and a work-study.

A warm arm wrapped around his shoulders. He turned and smiled at his mother.

"Is that everything from the car?" he asked.

She smiled at her son. "Your dad's just double checking. Do you want any help unpacking?"

"I don't think there's enough room for all of us to get in here," Merlin chuckled. "Besides, you and dad still have to drive back to Ealdor and it's way later that we thought it would be after all that traffic. I'll be fine."

She fondly patted Merlin's cheek. "Are you sure?"

"He'll be fine, Helen," said his father as he slid past them into the room. He had a couple of odds and ends in his arms that had fallen out of the battered boxes they'd used to pack up Merlin's belongings. "Do stop worrying so much."

Merlin pulled his mother into a hug. He knew that she was just concerned for him. This was going to be the first time he was off on his own and with the strange headaches he'd been getting lately, the ones that laid him out for hours and seemed unaffected by painkillers, she was doubly worried.

"Uncle George is here if I need anything," Merlin reminded her. "I really will be fine."

"It's a mother's job to worry over her son."

"Yes, but not to suffocate him," teased Merlin's father.

Helen glared good-naturedly at her husband. "Need I remind you, Barry, that you were the one fussing over whether Merlin packed enough sweaters?"

Stifling a laugh, Merlin watched his father blush and stammer out a response that was complete gibberish. He'd been incredibly lucky growing up. They'd never had much. His dad worked in the factory outside Ealdor and Merlin had helped his mother run their little flower-shop, but they'd always made sure that he had whatever he needed, especially when it came of his love for books.

He watched in amusement as his parents argued over who was more worried about him for a few more minutes before cutting in.

"Not that I'm trying to get rid of you, but there's a floor meeting this evening and I want to get a bit unpacked and I want to try to talk to Uncle George as well. Besides, you know you don't want to be on the country roads after dark."

His parents stopped arguing. Helen looked a bit sheepish.

"Oh, of course dear. We'll leave you to it." She gave him another, almost bone crushing hug. "Don't forget to call us every Sunday and pay attention to your studies. Eat at least once a day, you now how you get, and do stay out of trouble."

"Me? In trouble?"

To be fair, it wasn't usually his fault. He had a chronic case of nobility, his mum called it. Whenever he saw something unfair, usually in the way of a bully picking on someone, he intervened. It often got him beat up and in trouble with his teachers, once or twice, even the police.

"Promise me you won't go looking for trouble?" Helen pressed.

"I'll try, mum."

His father chuckled. "That's the best you'll get out him, Helen. At least his heart is in the right place when he gets himself a black eye."

Merlin stuck his tongue out.

He followed his parents outside. After exchanging more hugs and goodbyes and promising once again to call every Sunday, he waved goodbye to them as they drove away. He suddenly felt rather lonely. His only friend was back in Ealdor, still attending the local community college. He had no friends in Camelot. In fact, he didn't know anyone besides Uncle George, who was his mother's uncle. It was a bit strange to be off on his own, but Merlin was looking forward to the coming year.

He checked his watch before heading back inside. It was nearly seven o'clock. The floor meeting wasn't until nine-thirty, which was intended to give everyone a chance to unpack according to the flyer merlin had found taped to his door, but Uncle George would only be in his office for another hour. Merlin ran up to his room to grab a map of campus, just to be sure that he didn't get lost.

Camelot wasn't an overly large school, but it was old and it had been expanded and added onto so haphazardly over the years that it was a bit of a maze. With the help of the map, Merlin was able to find his way from his dorm to the on-campus medical facility. Uncle George was a doctor there, specializing in herbal remedies. Merlin was going to be assisting him for his work-study, though he wasn't entirely sure yet what he would be doing.

Merlin pushed the door open and walked into the building. The lobby was predictably empty, but there was a young woman in a nurse's scrubs sitting behind the desk, looking extremely bored. Merlin walked up to her.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a monotone.

"Um... I need to see Dr. George Lareow. I'm his new work-study student." When he got no response he added, "He's also my uncle. Is he still here?"

Lazily, the nurse picked up the phone and dialed an extension. "What's your name?" she asked, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Merlin Emerson."

For the first time, the look of boredom vanished. Her eyes widened in undisguised interest. Merlin suppressed a groan. There were times that he hated his name. His mother had once told them that they'd originally intended to name him something more mundane, though she hadn't said what. Apparently, the moment he was born, they just knew that his name was Merlin, whatever that meant. Most of the time he liked his unique name and the connection to the Arthurian legends. When he got the strange looks for being named after one of the most legendary warlocks of all time, he didn't like it so much.

The nurse started and turned her attention from Merlin to the phone.

"What? Oh, sorry Dr. Lareow. There's someone named Merlin Emerson here to see you...All right, sir." She put the phone down and looked up at Merlin. "You can head on back. His office is at the far end of the hall."

"Thanks," said Merlin, giving her a tired smile. He practically scampered out of the office and down the hallway, determinately ignoring the look that was following him.

Just as the nurse at the front desk had said, Uncle George's office was easy to find. It was straight down the hall. Of course it helped that there was a nice plaque next to the door that clearly read Dr. George Lareow.

Merlin knocked on the half open door and stuck his head in.

An old man with white hair that brushed his shoulders and black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose was bent over a table at the back of the room, fiddling with something that Merlin couldn't see. He looked up when he heard Merlin knock. A smile broke out across his face.

"Merlin, my dear boy. When did you arrive on campus?"

"About half an hour ago," he said, moving forward to hug the old man. "Mum and Dad dropped me off. They would have stayed to visit, but it's a bit of a drive."

"Of course. Perfectly understandable. How are you settling in?"

Merlin shrugged. "Well enough. I haven't even begun to unpack. I just wanted to stop by and say hello."

"Well, I'm glad you did. It's been far too long since I've seen you, my boy."

It had been several years. The five hour long drive was difficult for the old man to make alone, and Merlin's parents were often too busy to take the time to drive into Camelot.

Uncle George beamed at him. "How have you been?"

"All right, I guess," Merlin shrugged. "I suppose mum called to tell you about the headaches?"

The old man nodded. "She did. However, she didn't tell me much. Perhaps you could fill me in a bit more?"

"There's not much to tell. They come without warning, every couple of weeks or so. It's like a bad migraine, but I'm not sensitive to light or anything. My whole head just hurts. Usually, I end up lying down and trying to sleep. They pass after an hour or so."

"I see. I'll look into it, but I can tell you now that I've heard nothing of the like before."

"I really appreciate it," Merlin said sincerely.

Uncle George simply smiled. "It's nothing. Besides, I can't have my new assistant skiving off because of headaches."

"About that, what exactly am I supposed to be doing?"

"Whatever I tell you to. Mostly running errands and assisting me with a few things in here. My hands aren't as steady as they once were and my eyesight is not as strong. There are some things I cannot do as well as I once did."

Merlin nodded. "All right. When will you need me?"

"We'll discuss that after your first week," declared Uncle George. "That will give you time to adjust to your class schedule and allow us to determine when you will have the time to be here."

"I'll drop by Friday after classes then," Merlin grinned.

"Best come right at closing," Uncle George advised. "I'll be sure they know to let you in and that way, I won't be with a patient."

"So, around five o'clock?"

"The closer to five the better, Merlin. I seem to remember you having a talent for lateness."

Merlin blushed slightly. He was well known in Ealdor for hurtling into everything five minutes late and making a grand scene of it as he did. "I'll try to be on time, Uncle. And I'd love to stay and talk, but there's a floor meeting later and I really need to get unpacked."

"I've got work to be doing, anyway. It was wonderful to see you again, Merlin. Feel free to stop by any time, even if it's not for work. If I'm with a patient, you can wait here, so long as you don't touch anything. I'm still trying to figure out how you got that tincture to explode the last time you visited."

Despite the admonishment, the old man was smiling fondly at his nephew.

"I told you, I have no idea how it happened! I was across the room!" Merlin whined. He knew he'd never live that incident down.

"Of course you were," said Uncle George dryly. "Off with you. You don't want to be late."

Grinning cheekily, Merlin ducked out of the office. The nurse was no longer sitting at the front desk, a small kindness for which he was immensely grateful. He didn't feel like being stared at again because someone half expected him to sprout a snow-white beard and conjure lightning from the tips of his fingers just because of his name. It was surprising how often he got that look.

When he reached his dorm, he traipsed back upstairs to his room and surveyed the chaos. It was an absolute mess, worse than his room usually was. He was sorely tempted to just clear off the bed and leave it at that. It had not been an easy day. The car had gotten a flat twenty miles out of Ealdor and they'd barely been on the road again when they hit traffic so backed up that it took three hours to travel a distance that should have taken just over an hour on any normal day. He was absolutely exhausted, but if he didn't start unpacking, he would probably never get around to it. Heaving a sigh, Merlin set about sorting through the boxes and unpacking.

He worked steadily for hours. Only a few boxes remained when his phone went off at a quarter after nine, warning him of the impending meeting. He hurried down the hall to the small common room. No one was there yet. He half expected most of the floor to ditch anyway, but he was going to be a good student, so he settled into a rather old and beat up armchair to wait.

Arthur walked tiredly back to his room. He'd spent the rest of the afternoon introducing himself, answering questions, collecting room evals, and even breaking up an argument that had sprung up between to roommates who couldn't decide who got which bed. He was exhausted and the day wasn't even over. He still had to lead the floor meeting with Leon in less than an half an hour.

Intending to change into a clean shirt and take a few minutes of peace for himself, he had decided to skip dinner with Morgan and her roommate Gwen, with whom both of the Penn siblings had been friends for years. He trudged into his room, rubbing his hand over his face and thanking God for the quiet and solitude.

Only to have his phone ring the moment he closed the door.

The jarring sound of the ringtone drilled into his head. If it was anyone else he'd just let it ring and be done with it, but that particular ringtone meant that his father was calling and he knew better than to ignore Jonathan Penn.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and answered the phone.

"Father."

"Arthur," replied his father emotionlessly. "I just got the most interesting call from Geoffrey at the office."

Arthur grimaced. He knew what this was about. He'd really hoped that he would have weekend before his father decided to chew him out. Apparently, he just wasn't that lucky. Maybe this was the important event that Morgan had been prattling about.

"He said that you had requested that your hours at the office be cut back more than they were last year when you resumed your lessons. Is there a particular reason for this?" his father inquired. There was no hint of anything in his voice. It was the calm before the storm, as Arthur well knew.

He took a deep breath. "I wasn't an RA last year, father. With my responsibilities to the other students, I thought it best that I actually be here instead of at the office."

It was the truth, but he knew that his father wouldn't like it. Jonathan Penn had started with practically nothing before working his way up the ladder at a failing telecommunications company. He'd saved it from financial ruin and turned it into a diversified, multibillion dollar enterprise that dabbled in everything. Since day one, he'd groomed Arthur to take over and that had meant working long hours right along side his father since he was old enough. Jonathan had never really understood his son's craving for a normal life or his dedication to the personal side of his obligations. Everyone in Arthur's office loved him, he'd always been there for his teammates when he played sports, and now that he was an RA, a job that he had taken to make his father happy, he was not about to shirk that.

"You have responsibilities to this company," Jonathan said sternly. Disappointment oozed from the phone so thickly it was almost tangible. "One day it will be yours to run and you must be completely dedicated."

"I am dedicated, father," Arthur protested. "But I'm also dedicated to being an RA. I can't do that while I'm spending every spare moment looking over quarterly figures. It's only a few hours less than usual and Morgan has agreed to pick up some of the slack."

"Morgan is not the one who will be the CEO. You can't foist your duties off on your sister."

"That's not what I'm trying to do. I just want to balance my responsibilities."

"This company comes first, Arthur. No arguments. You will work the same hours you did last year."

Before Arthur could protest, Jonathan hung up. It took all of Arthur's self-restraint not to throw the phone at the wall. Instead, he very calmly changed his shirt and picked up the flyer he and Leon were supposed to be giving the students and walked to the common room.

Leon was already there, looking incredibly bored. The only other person in the room was a skinny young man with black hair and big ears who was nose deep in a book. Arthur sat down heavily next to Leon.

"Why the hell did I ever become an RA?" Arthur grumbled under his breath to his friend, and fellow RA.

Leon looked rather tried of having his conversation. "Because it will improve your leadership skills, which you will need if you want to lead your father's company, because it looks good on your resume, and because it made your father happy."

Of course Arthur already knew all that. It had all made perfect sense last year when it had come time to sign up to be an RA. Now, he was wondering if he'd gone temporarily insane.

They lapsed into silence, which stretched on and on. The time for the beginning of the meeting came and went and no one showed up. Once it was almost quarter to ten, Leon leaned over and tapped the stranger on the shoulder.

"Do you mind waiting a bit longer before we call this a disaster and try again?" he asked.

The young man shook his head. "No problem.""

Leon nodded and pulled out his phone.

No one else showed up.

When the hands on the battered clock were closer ten-thirty than they were to ten o'clock, Arthur decided he had had enough. Growling in unrepressed frustration, Arthur hauled himself to his feet and snatched up the flyers.

"Here," he said gruffly, shoving one in the new student's face. "This is what we were supposed to be talking about. Read it and don't get into trouble. That's all. You can go."

The stranger blinked. "Are we done waiting, then?"

"I don't think they're coming," Leon said calmly before Arthur could say something stupid out of frustration. "It's not surprising. Most people are still saying goodbye to their parents or unpacking and I'm sure plenty of the flyers went missing in the chaos. If you have any questions-"

"I'll come ask," he finished, a friendly smile stretching across his face. "Thanks. I'm Merlin, by the way."

Arthur snorted. "Merlin? Are you serious? Who in their right mind would name their kid Merlin?"

Groaning and raising his eyes to the ceiling, Leon seriously considered whacking Arthur upside the head. He usually wasn't too bad, but years of living with his father had led to the development of the rather unsavory habit of lashing out at others when he was angry or frustrated, just as his father did. Over the past few years, Arthur had gotten considerably better, probably because he wasn't around his father quite as much, but he still slipped up, especially when his father had berated him for something.

Merlin's face hardened at the taunt and his eyes flashed angrily. "You know, I thought we could be friends, seeing as we're living on the same floor and all, but I'd never be friends with such as ass."

"Nor I with such an idiot," Arthur retorted. "Don't you know better than to insult people you've only just met?"

"I could ask you the same thing, but I suppose you've been training to be a prat since birth, so you have an excuse."

There was something hauntingly familiar about this whole situation, but Arthur just couldn't put his finger on it. The words evoked the strangest sense of deja vu, but that was nothing compared to the feeling he got from Merlin himself. It had hit him out of nowhere. He could swear that he knew the other man, or had known him at some point. He just couldn't remember.

Merlin, meanwhile, spun on his heel and started of.

"Oh, don't walk away," Arthur called after him.

Merlin stopped and went stiff.

"From you? I've already told you that you're a prat. What more do you want to hear?"

"You can't talk to me like that. I'm your RA."

"That stands for Resident Assistant, not Royal Ass. You can't order me about."

Arthur advanced on him, throwing off the restraining hand Leon had laid on his shoulder without him noticing. "I could take you apart with one blow," he hissed. The words spilled from him before he could even really think about them, as if he'd said them before and was simply repeating them.

"I could take you apart with less than that," Merlin blurted.

"Oh really?" Arthur stepped forward again, only to catch his toe on a wrinkle in the carpet and fall, face first onto the floor.

Merlin stifled a chuckle and walked away. Arthur stared after him. He could have sworn that he'd seen the idiot's eyes flash gold just before he fell and somehow he knew that Merlin had caused him to trip. Rising to his feet, Arthur stared down the hallway after him. For the first time since the argument began he actually realized just what he'd been saying. It had been as though he was on autopilot. No, that wasn't right. It had been as if someone else was speaking through him.

"What was that about?" Leon demanded. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in if he reported you?"

"I know," Arthur said tiredly. "I honestly don't know where that came from. It was...well, I suppose it doesn't matter what it was. I'll apologize tomorrow. I think I'm just over tired and that call from my father didn't help."

Leon seemed only half convinced. "All right. But that can't happen again."

"It won't. I swear. I'll see you tomorrow."

Without waiting for an answer, he hurried back to his room. Arthur locked the door securely behind him before collapsing on the bed. He felt...strange, a bit dizzy and overwhelmed. His thoughts kept drifting back to Merlin. That feeling that he should know the other man wouldn't go away.

Minutes passed before he fell into an uneasy sleep plagued by dreams.

"Bloody arrogant git," Merlin muttered, slamming the door (not too hard, it wouldn't do to upset his dorm mate so early, not matter how frustrated he was) behind him. But his anger was already melting away to be replaced by a small bit of guilt. It had been obvious to any one with eyes that the RA was both exhausted and frustrated. Merlin couldn't blame him. No one had showed up to the meeting. Who knew how much work the RA had been forced to put into the preparations for that meeting, let alone for move-in day. Merlin would have been frustrated as well. He could completely understand why the RA had been a bit gruff, and normally he wouldn't have risen to that. Something about that idiot just set Merlin off.

He hadn't even been sure where some of those insults had come from. They'd just sort of come out.

Merlin growled in frustration and collapsed back on his bed. Even if he had been the teensiest bit out of line with some of those comments it didn't change the fact that his RA was an arse of monumental proportions. This year was not going to be much fun if that prat was going to be around all the time. Merlin hoped that he could avoid him.

Sighing heavily, Merlin heaved himself out of the bed and shuffled over to the nearest half unpacked box. He rummaged through it for a moment disinterestedly, then set about unpacking his last few items and organizing everything and moving things around to his satisfaction. By the time he was done fiddling with everything, he was absolutely exhausted. He'd been up since six, scrambling round his house for the last odds and ends while his mum fussed over him. He'd been going ever since and now he could feel the telltale signs of one of his headaches coming on.

Merlin rubbed his temples and fumbled for his pajamas. There was a tiny sink in the corner, for which he was grateful. He wouldn't have to brave the common bathroom when he had a headache and he desperately wanted a glass of water.

Flicking off the light, he curled up under the blankets and tried not to think about the prat and how familiar he was as he drifted off to a dream filled sleep.

He was standing on the battlements of a castle, looking down on the city below. The fields surrounding the city were lush and impossibly green. He could see people going about their business. He could even make out the glint of the chain mail that the guards wore.

Walking to the other side of the battlement, he looked down on the castle courtyard. A small group of knights were training together. One, a man with dark hair that brushed his shoulders, was laughing raucously, clapping another dark-haired man on the shoulder. The second man shrugged him off good-naturedly and fell into a defensive position, his sword raised. A moment passed and they were dueling at half speed, just warming up.

He looked up to survey the castle. Red pennants emblazoned with golden, rampant dragons flew from the towers. The walls were of white stone that glimmered in the sunlight. It was a beautiful sight, one that it had taken years to build and one that it took much to maintain. But it was all well worth it.

Turning again to the battlement that looked out over the city, he surveyed the people below. Near the wall of the castle, two children were playing. One was making leaves float and they were chasing them. He smiled. Once upon a time, this display of innocent magic would have meant death for the children involved. That was no longer the case. There were schools for those with magic. They were no longer persecuted.

A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to find his best friend standing behind him, clad in the robes of his station. His friend gestured to the sky with his eyes and he looked up to see a snow-white dragon soar overhead. He looked back down and grinned.

"So what do you think?" asked his friend.

"I think it's what we've been fighting for."

Arthur woke up with a start. He hadn't had that dream in years. But that wasn't the odd thing. It had never changed before. The man that had come up to him had always been faceless. Now, it was Merlin.

Figuring it was just his conscience harping at him for being a prat, he rolled back over and went to sleep, unaware that down the hall, Merlin was doing the exact same thing.

Author's Note: I've given all of the characters, except for Merlin, modern versions of their names. In a couple of cases (ie Uther, Gaius, Hunith, etc) where they don't have obvious modern alternatives, I've just found the best thing that I could think of. The idea is that,while they are still the people they were before, they are also the products of their time. Merlin is the exception because he's Merlin and he's magic and because I say so. Below is a list to help you keep it straight.

Helen Emerson: Hunith

Barry Emerson: Balinor

Merlin Emerson: Merlin

Morgan Penn: Morgana

Leon Knightly: Sir Leon

Arthur Penn: Arthur

Jonathan Penn: Uther

George Lareow: Gaius (Fun Fact: Lareow is old english for master healer or something like that)

Robert Moore: Mordred

That's everyone who has appeared so far. As new characters are added, I'll add them to the list.

This is not a complete rewrite of the series as a modern tale. There will be some events that closely follow the series, but that is just their subconscious coming to the forefront. They end up re-enacting familiar scenarios as their memories surface.

I would like to clarify really quickly that this story is literally set in a modern Albion. Apologies again for the extremely long delay in posting. I can't guarantee that I'll be any better. Yay for adulting! But I'm not dead, so at least that's something!