When Arthur arrived home from work, Morgana was seated at his dining room table, stiletto-cladded feet kicked up on the ornate and expensive upholstery, throwing crisps into her mouth, appearing as if she had been there for hours, just waiting for his return.

Arthur had the immediate urge to bolt as soon as she turned her hawk-like gaze on him. Shockingly enough, he didn't act on the impulse. Instead, he just stood and gaped, briefcase thudding to the floor in an undignified manner.

Taking a step inside and nudging the door closed with his foot, he stared at her uncomprehendingly, a thousand questions at the tip of his tongue. One popped up above the others, however. "How the hell did you get inside?"

"Honestly, Arthur," Morgana rolled her eyes as she pulled legs into her and off the counter. It seemed that the five years they had spent apart had done nothing to improve her manners. "Did you really just ask that?"

Arthur scowled as she waggled her fingers at him. He had nearly forgotten – Well, no, it was impossible to forget that his half-sister was a bona-fide witch – But it was hard to reconcile the magic that could be used to choke a man without so much as laying a finger on him could also be used for the simple task of unlocking a door.

"Well, what are you doing here?" Before she opened her mouth, Arthur posed another question. "And where exactly have you been for the past five years?"

"What, can't I just have a social call with my estranged half-brother?" Arthur glared. She relented with the smirk dropping from her features, which was nearly as surprising as her actually being here in his apartment. "Alright, fine. I need your help."

"Of course you do," Arthur threw himself into the chair across from her. The table, like most of the possessions in his flat, was far too big for the use of a single person. The overwhelming loneliness of the empty place got to him sometimes, especially in the years he'd spent without even Morgana for company. He'd accomplished, for the most part, ignoring the feeling. "Of course that's the only reason you'd ever come to me again."

"Well, what else did you expect, Arthur?" Morgana's eyes flashed in momentary anger. "You made your stance clear. You sided with Uther, picked him over me. You knew exactly what was going to happen."

Arthur felt a bubble of guilt in his stomach. He didn't tell Morgana that he had spent many nights regretting that decision, but always came to the same conclusion; that there was no choice, none at all. But he knew that she wouldn't listen to a word he said if he started that argument up, so he didn't. "What makes you think I can help?"

"You're the only person I can turn to right now," Morgana said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "Just hear me out, Arthur. Don't call the police. Please."

The use of the world please stopped Arthur from making mental plans in his head for how best to get rid of Morgana without actually tattling to the authorities. Or their father. But Morgana never asked politely for things; she took, sometimes greedily and with an overabundance of force. For her, saying please was swallowing her pride, an absolute last resort.

He knew that he had to at least listen.

"Okay," he said slowly, and she almost smiled at him, gratitude shining in her eyes. "I'll listen to you. But you better tell me everything – The whole story, Morgana. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"I will," she said, her face changing to one of pure determination. Was the story really that hard to get out? Arthur began to dread the next words coming out of her mouth. The tale was already horrible enough as it was without having to hear what had come next.

Morgana had always been different. Even when they were just children, there was something off about her. Something in her eyes that warned of an impending storm.

The metaphorical lightning strike happened when she was thirteen, Arthur fourteen. Morgana, who had always suffered from nightmares, burst into Arthur's bedroom at half past three in the morning, sobbing and half mad. Arthur had shushed her and, although it was something he hadn't done since they were five and six, held her as she cried. Through her jumbled speech, she managed to tell him that she had visions; visions of the future that, according her, nearly always came true. And in this particular vision, she saw a throng of people killed in front of her eyes. And not just people; all those killed were sorcerers. And Morgana had been forced to watch.

With a father who was the single-most prominent man in all of Britain that persecuted those with magical abilities, Arthur felt truly scared. Uther Pendragon was relentless in his cause and would no doubt throw Morgana into prison. He wouldn't care that she was his daughter; all he would see was the magic and the evil it brought. Not to mention the stain on the family name, forever tarnished with Morgana's bloody blow.

In those first few days after the event, although he told Morgana he would never tell a soul, he couldn't help but doubt in her so called visions. She probably just had an overactive imagination and a penchant for drama, Arthur reasoned. There was no hard evidence that she had the gift of magic.

His delusion lasted an entire week; it was on Sunday that, while being driven home from their school by their personal valet, they were stopped in a huge traffic jam on Hackney. There was a riot swarming the streets ahead of them and, looking out their tinted windows, both Arthur and Morgana saw a group of police officers shooting at a small gathering of people in the center of the chaos.

Magic users.

Arthur had turned to Morgana, who had tears tracing her cheeks.

He had resolved, in that moment, that he would always take what she said seriously. Always.

He never told Uther what he had learned, and Morgana would never mention her visions unless they pertained directly to Arthur. She would occasionally warn him against mundane things, like not going to school on the day the east wing burned down, or advised him on which university to choose. But they never spoke of her gifts, especially not in-depth.

Arthur wasn't afraid of her, despite all of the warnings about sorcery's evils that were drilled into his head by Uther. It was only his little sister; sometimes devious, always irritating. She wasn't a bad guy, she couldn't help that she saw the future. And that was all she did. She didn't have the capability to hurt someone with her magic.

Arthur's world shattered on Morgana's eighteenth birthday.

He was home from university for holiday break; his father, in a rare show of family togetherness, had insisted on spending the holidays with his children. Morgana, in her last year of school at the time with her birthday falling two days before Christmas, was decidedly against it. While Uther had no idea of her powers, what he did know was that Morgana was headstrong, rebellious, and completely against his principles.

Arthur was constantly warning her about attracting too much attention, but as always, she ignored his advice, choosing instead to go her on path. He had hated leaving her behind for university, but he reasoned that speaking to her on the phone once a week would be reassurance enough that she hadn't gone dark side on him.

Today, he both regretted his naivety and was deeply jealous of it.

She had gone out with a few of her friends on the twenty-third, promising to be back by midnight. Arthur had offered go along – Morgana, lame as it sounded, was his closest friend, even after their six months apart – but she had rebuked him, saying that she'd spend time with him and Uther the next day, that this was just a celebration with her mates.

That should have been a sign that something was wrong.

Arthur, luckily, had the foresight to wait up for her, and was suspicious when one o'clock passed without as much as a text from Morgana. Playing the concerned and overprotective brother, Arthur made the decision to go out to the pub she had given as the address where she would be spending her celebratory evening. Uther, who had arrived home from what appeared to be a strenuous day on the job, insisted on accompanying him to fetch her. It seemed that Morgana had broken curfew one time too often for his liking.

Arthur should have told him to stay home, but he didn't. He didn't do a lot of things that night.

Arriving at the pub, the bartender said that he'd seen someone that fit Morgana's description headed out their side door a couple hours earlier. Arthur, Uther a few strides in front of him, immediately followed the man's gesture to the back alleyway.

What they saw there would be ingrained on Arthur's mind for all of eternity.

Morgana, expression a feral grin and eyes a molten gold glow, holding a man twice her size up against a wall. Except that she wasn't even touching him; the man's feet were off the ground by her pure will, magic pouring out of her as the man, huge and hulking, was reduced to a sobbing and screaming mess. However, his screams were becoming strangled as Morgana, hand held aloft, squeezed her fist. She was choking the life right out of him.

Arthur had just stared in horror as he felt bile rise up in his throat. Had Morgana's magic always been this violent or was this a new development that had happened since he left? Either way, he felt guilty as hell.

Uther, on the other hand, stopped dead in his tracks. Morgana's eyes focused on them for a mere half a second before processing fully that Uther saw her. She dropped the man to the ground of the alley immediately as their father hurled insults and profanities at her. She had never looked more terrified in her life as she turned to Arthur pleadingly.

But Arthur was frozen; Uther would most definitely condemn Morgana to death. That was the sentence for anyone who harmed another with sorcery; just the possession of magical powers was enough to get a person locked up for life. And Uther would never let Morgana go clean, his own daughter or not. And if Arthur stood with her, Uther would show no mercy to him either.

As Uther raged and ranted about terrorizing the family name, Morgana cut in angrily, eyes flashing their ordinary green.

"I was born like this, you utter fool! You never noticed it all throughout my childhood. Not even once. I could see the future since before I could walk. And this man here," she kicked a high-heeled boot at her victim, unconscious on the street, "tried to rape me. What else was I supposed to do, just stand there and take it? I hurt him before he could hurt me. What's the crime in that, Uther?"

Uther, furious, began to speak again, but Morgana wasn't finished.

"I won't let you take me, you know. I'll run and you'll never be able to find me. I'm too good for that. I've been practicing my gifts; I can get away from your pathetic police force."

"You will do no such thing," Uther snarled.

"Watch me," Morgana hissed back. Her eyes changed again as she looked to Arthur, who had remained silent for the entire exchange, afraid to say a word. But he knew exactly what Morgana meant when her eyes were soft around the edges. She was asking him.

Come with me.

It was the single longest moment of Arthur's life. Morgana stood there, begging him silently while Uther was none the wiser to the near treachery of his son, still focusing on the sins of the daughter. A war waged in his head. If he went with Morgana, they would be criminals, on the run from the law and their father. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that Morgana had kept overwhelmingly large secrets from him for months, possibly years. How could he trust her?

But if he stayed with Uther, he would never see her again. She would be gone, a ghost. Was he really ready to give up on Morgana? And if he chose her, was he really willing to give up on his father? His career? His life?

Almost imperceptibly, Arthur shook his head. Morgana's shoulders drooped, but her eyes nodded in confirmation. Determined and fiercely angry once more, she turned back to Uther. "Don't come after me. Or I will kill you. Don't think I can't do it."

She strode past them, stalking back into the pub where she would most likely head out into the London night, gone from them forevermore. Uther stayed still, heeding Morgana's words. It seemed that he was going to give her a chance; maybe he had an ounce of fatherly affection somewhere within him.

Arthur's life changed that night. There was no more Morgana, and the rift between he and his father became irreparable. Arthur's career took a swerve as well. Uther had always wanted Arthur to become a lawyer specializing in anti-magic cases. Arthur had always felt vaguely disgusted at the utter disregard the professors and students in the more magic-focused classes had for sorcerers, and his experience with Morgana and what magic had done to her life made him never want to have contact with anything even remotely magical ever again. Seeing as how he still liked the actual law part of the courses, he still kept that part of his career. He just took cases that were strictly homicide, no sorcery about it. Just plain, stone-cold, mortal versus mortal murder; it was oddly comforting, in a way.

He hadn't had any direct encounters with sorcerers since. Morgana barely crossed his mind – Well, that was a lie. A day didn't go by without him worrying about her, which, according to his father, was a horrible way to look at her crimes. She was a rogue sorceress who had a death sentence on her head, and therefore deserved whatever she got.

Seeing Morgana now, though, Arthur felt a slew of emotions he had ignored for years rushing through his veins. Her appearance was different, of course; there was quite a gap between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three. Her features were fuller, her midnight hair long and messy and dressed in a risqué black lacy dress that would make him shudder if she wore it in public. Apparently, the older brother gene never quite wore off. Her eyes were the same though, a brilliant green framed in black, now gazing at him with the slightest bit of apprehension.

"Are you sure you want to hear it all?" Morgana studied him, probably pinpointing his changes in the past five years as well.

"Get on with it," Arthur told her with dread. He couldn't help quickly glancing at the door leading back out into the hallway; no one ever visited him, but he was a worrier. He couldn't help it. And if someone saw Morgana...Well, he wouldn't think about that. It was highly unlikely.

Morgana started to speak, and Arthur came to complete attention. He did not want to miss any of this.

"After I left," she started slowly as she broke eye contact with him to stare at the wall behind him. "I fell in with a woman named Morgause up in Cardiff. She was a magic user, and a damn good one. She taught me almost everything I know about sorcery. The two of us were close; we traveled together. But she was captured and later killed while we were in Spain. That was two years ago."

"How close were you?" Arthur found himself asking, as Morgana's voice had gone from controlled to slightly pitchy during the part about Morgause's death.

"We were lovers," Morgana said flatly and Arthur winced. He had known that Morgana slept with both men and women; he'd known it since she was sixteen. And she'd known that he was gay since about the same time, so it had never mattered to either of them. But she had never been serious about anyone, regardless of their gender, and to have their first real relationship end in death was a fate that no one should have to suffer.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, awkwardly reaching across the table to pat her shoulder. It was the first time he had touched her, and it warmed him slightly. It seemed to do the same for Morgana, who gave him a small smile before continuing.

"After that, I went to New York City. There's a group of us there, all on the run. We all help each other out. It's like a family. There are even a couple people living with us that aren't magic users," Morgana explained.

Arthur was unexpectedly hurt over Morgana's insinuations of the sorcerers being like her family – he was her family, not them – but she kept talking before he could ponder it further.

"Kind of wished you were there, you know," she said, still refusing to meet his eyes. "It sounds quite pathetic, but I really did miss you."

"I missed you, too," Arthur sighed, glancing down at his hands. The guilt was coming back in threefold.

"But the people that were there – are there – they were amazing," Morgana sighed wistfully. "If you did decide to help me, we would be heading there. You would be safe, I promise. None of them would ever hurt you."

"I'd be going there?" Arthur regarded her with shock. "Morgana, I can't. I have a life here, I can't risk it."

"A life here?" Morgana snorted, gesturing around. "Arthur, you live alone in a flat that's too big for you. You work as a lawyer and you hate it. Don't try to argue with me," she said as Arthur opened his mouth to argue with her. "You hate it. I looked up some records before I came; you haven't won a case in months. And I'm willing to bet quite a bit of money that you haven't gone on a date in just as long."

Arthur would have yelled at her for being a presumptuous bitch that was dead wrong about everything she had just said, but he couldn't. Mainly because she was right. He wasn't happy, he hadn't been in years. His job was exhausting at best and he had given up on dating after university. He barely even had any friends, for crying out loud, just coworkers or mates from uni that he hadn't seen since graduation.

"Well, I don't see why you need help," Arthur less than tactfully changed the subject. "It seems like you're doing well for yourself. You've got your new family."

"Are you jealous?" Morgana lifted an eyebrow. Arthur scoffed but didn't respond, which spoke legions. Morgana smiled in victory before becoming subdued once more. "The thing with them is, most of us are wanted somewhere in the world. And one of them, Freya, she…well, the police recognized her when she snuck out to get groceries one day. She's being held at a facility there until they decide whether to send her to prison or kill her. They have no proof of her hurting anyone, but they're trying to dig something up from when she was growing up in Scotland."

"This is all very depressing," Arthur said with a touch of sarcasm, even though the situation was quite sad. The girl, whoever she was, didn't deserve to die. "But what can I do about it?"

"Come to New York," Morgana supplied. "Convince them to get her transferred to London."

"How the hell can I do that?" Arthur asked, incredulous. "I have nothing to do with her situation."

"Tell them that you're looking for me and that you have reason to believe that we're on the run together," Morgana said. "We – our group – can falsify some shots of the two of us together. Just say that you've been searching for me and want to have Freya brought in for extensive questioning in London. It's done all the time with other magic criminals; family members looking for their sorcerer children or siblings. It wouldn't be hard. And we could break Freya out when she's being transported to the airport."

Arthur didn't want to ask how much thought had gone into this plan, how much research had been done. And how Morgana knew all about how the anti-magic legal and police branches worked. So instead he spoke up again, "You really care about her, huh?"

"I love everyone there," Morgana said. "I love them so fucking much, Arthur. They took me in when I was broken. They helped fix me. I'd do anything for them. And Freya is one of my best friends in the world, Arthur. Please."

Arthur sighed, studying her pleading expression. This could ruin his life; the career he'd built, the relationship with his father. Once more, just as it was five years previously, it was time to make a choice. He could choose the same thing again; go the safe route, avoid confrontation. But seeing Morgana again, knowing that he let her slip from his grasp a second time…

"I'll do it," he decidedly, almost impulsively. "I'll do it."

Morgana's eyes shone brightly as she reached across the table to hug him. It was awkward, he thought as he put his arms around her slender frame. But that was only to be expected. They had a world of differences surrounding them now.

But she was his sister, and no matter what, that would never change.

As they broke apart, she said "If everything goes according to plan, you might not even have to spend a week there. You could get away clean."

Arthur already knew that getting off scotch-free was a long shot, but Morgana looked so elated, he couldn't help but smile with her. Even though this was undoubtedly the beginning of the end, he couldn't help but grin along with her.

At least, if things did go south, he'd be going out with a bang.

"I don't know about this."

"Shut up, Arthur, as long as you don't act like you're guilty, they won't think you're guilty."

"And is this the advice that you live on?"

Arthur regarded Morgana doubtfully as the crowded airport terminal bustled around them, filled to the brim with rushed and harried travelers. As they hurried off to catch their flights, Arthur leaned against a metal pole at the start of the hallway that headed to the security checkpoint, Morgana semi-hidden behind it. It had been three days since Morgana had arrived unannounced into his life once again, dragging him into this mad magical debacle. He had booked two tickets to New York online the day previously – ("Book them on different cards," Morgana had hissed into his ear. "And make sure that the seats aren't near each other.")

Arthur was slightly dubious about their plan to get out of the country. He, of course, could easily hop on a flight and get to New York easily, even if he had to explain his mysterious sporadic vacation to his boss and his father. His boss had understood and given him plenty of time off, but Uther had been skeptical of what on earth could hold any interest for Arthur in America; however, he still hadn't asked too many prying questions, just accepted it as one of his son's eccentricities.

Morgana, on the other hand, would be a difficult case. If she was an ordinary criminal, Arthur would have said that getting her on the flight would be damn near impossible. But apparently one of her wizard friends had stacks of fake identities that the members of the group had used on more than one occasion. Arthur hadn't learned much more about his sister's company for the past few years; she'd been rather sparse on details. He would meet them today, though, so he didn't push it too far.

"This looks nothing like you," Arthur glanced down at the ID that Morgana had handed him when he'd asked for reassurance that their law-breaking escapade wouldn't end when it had barely started. The woman in the grainy photo was blonde, for one thing, her features far narrower and pointed than Morgana's own, with a slightly larger shoulder frame.

"What about now?" Morgan's head peered out from around the column – but she barely resembled herself. She was, however, the carbon copy of the girl on the identification in Arthur's now slack hands.

"Morgana!" Arthur gaped, waving a hand behind him at the throngs of people surrounding them. "What the hell? Anyone could have seen you!"

"No, they really couldn't have," Morgana waved a hand dismissively, the fingers slightly longer and thicker, nails not nearly as immaculate as they looked without magical help. "There's a thin veil that slightly obscures us from the public eye. It works on security cameras, too, so no need to worry about it from that end. We're still able to be seen, just in people's peripheral vision. Like we're barely even here."

Arthur, although relieved that they weren't dead in the water, still felt oddly violated. "Don't use magic on me. Not without at least telling me first."

"Fine," Morgana snorted under her breath. "Magic prude." Arthur glared. "Can I at least take the enchantment off so that we can get on the plane?"

"Promise me that you won't use any magic after that?" Arthur asked. "Not until we land."

"Alright," Morgana rolled her eyes in a long-suffering way. This was hardly fair, seeing as how this was her idea in the first place, and it would be her that would be killed if there was a flaw in the plan. Arthur would just be jailed for life.

Surely, it was a happier alternative.

Murmuring an incantation under her breath, Morgana took off at a rapid speed down the hallway and toward the airline security. Arthur, resisting the urge to curse loudly, followed her at a more moderate pace. They had planned to arrive at separate times, after all, so as to make certain that there would be no viable connection between them.

Arthur, pushing through a group of chattering German tourists, arrived at the security checkpoint, presenting to the guard both his driver's license and ticket. He could see Morgana slightly ahead of him, stepping through one of the metal detectors with a couple of watchful eyes on her. He let out a sigh of relief knowing that her identification had been solid enough to make it through without a problem.

By the time Arthur, who, as expected, had zero issues, had made it through the vigorous security process, Morgana had vanished once again, probably heading to the gate on her own.

By the time Arthur went through six different sections of the crowded, bustling Heathrow to make it to his gate, C-14, the plane was already boarding. He hadn't glimpsed hide or hair of Morgana since she had disappeared on him and was only semi-anxious to find her once more. Shuffling into the winding line leading to the aircraft, Arthur craned his neck, catching a quick look of the blonde dishwater hair that Morgana had charmed herself with disappearing down the passage leading to the airplane. Her ticket had cleared as well. Arthur gave a silent sigh of relief.

His own ticket, of course, was not a problem. He even got a respectful nod from the dark-haired woman working the counter at the sight of his surname. Uther Pendragon was a household political name in Britain, so it only stood to reason that Arthur would be recognized. He wished he wasn't, for the scrutiny the woman surveyed him with was not the most comfortable of feelings.

Hurrying through the jet way, clutching his carry-on bag (well, only bag, Morgana insisted they pack light), in his white fist, he did his best to appear an ordinary passenger. Which, for all intents and purposes, he was. Smiling at the pretty blonde flight attendant that greeted him warmly as he boarded, he entered the carrier.

He had booked himself in first class and Morgana in coach, so as to keep up pretenses, meaning that he didn't have the assurance of seeing her one last time before they took off. Heading to his seat, he turned down the offer of food and alcohol, instead opting to push himself as deep as he could into the plush blue seat, willing himself to sleep through as much of the flight as he could. He didn't want to focus on the intense hammering of his heart.

There was no going back now.

It seemed that Morgana's skills in illegal activities were more polished than Arthur had expected, for just over seven hours later, the two were standing in the mid-afternoon sunshine just outside LaGuardia, having made it off the plane and through customs without even a hiccup. Morgana was freed of her disguise; there was enough of a crowd that one would barely register Morgana's face on their radar, let alone suspect her of being a wanted sorceress. She had assured Arthur that she was barely known in New York; the anti-magic forces hadn't found her connection with the city yet. Apparently there was such a thing as small miracles.

There would, however, have to be a hell of gigantic miracle for this whole plot to work out. The first step may have worked, but they were only scratching the surface of Morgana's problem. The real difficulties began now.

As per Morgana's instruction, Arthur called a taxi to take them from the airport to the Gansevoort Meatpacking Hotel. It was a posh choice, despite its less than promising name, but whether or not it was refined enough for Arthur's taste didn't matter, as he wouldn't actually be staying there. It was a part of Morgana's plan; Arthur had made reservations for the next two weeks, which she was certain would be an ample amount of time to take care of business. Her train of thought was that legal documents proving his stay in the city would give him credibility with the anti-magic police in the city.

After arriving and checking in at the front desk, Arthur careened out a side door, not even bothering to head up the stairs of the lavish and extravagant building. He met Morgana just outside.

She was standing against the building's brick will, clicking her heels impatiently. "About time. Now come on, I'll take you to our base."

This was the part Arthur was dreading most; meeting other magic users. Encounters with Morgana were all well and good. She was his sister, his family. But a whole group of gifted sorcerers who could easily kill him in his sleep? Apprehension could only be expected.

So as not to let Morgana know his hesitant thoughts, he immediately replied "All right. Lead the way."

Morgana wasted no time in her purposeful stride down Ninth Avenue, dodging and diving around the throngs of people in such a perfected style that suggested that she had lived in New York her entire life. Arthur struggled to keep up with her as she veered off into the West Village.

It was slightly less busy there, but not by much. If Arthur wasn't a born and raised Londoner, he might have been intimidated by the sheer size of the crowds. He'd been to this city once before, when he was eleven or twelve, with Uther when he was on one of his business trips and Arthur and Morgana's nanny took an unexpected vacation. Since it was Uther, they hadn't really spent any time seeing the sights, and the performance would obviously be repeated during Arthur's second stay here. No time for tourism when a girl's life was on the line.

"Here," Morgana stopped short in their hurry through the streets. As the crowd shuffled around them, she gestured down a side alley directly off of the main street; a narrow street, dirty and dilapidated, the brick walls splattered with what was hopefully red paint.

"And…?" Arthur asked, waiting for a punch line. A wretched back alley was hardly a safe haven for wandering warlocks.

Morgana arched an elegant eyebrow. "Hurry along," she said, heading down the alley, leaving Arthur no choice but to follow.

"It's a dead end," he felt complied to point out as he doubled his pace to meet Morgana's stride. He could almost hear an eye roll, although her face was out of his line of vision.

"Just follow me."

Glancing about cautiously, Morgana took a step forward toward the solid brick wall to their left. Arthur lagged behind slightly, not exactly sure what to make of the fact that she was pressing her hand firmly against the concrete.

His question was answered with a hiss of her breath, muttering an archaic incantation. She gestured Arthur forward impatiently as she spoke in tongues, her arm wrapping viselike against his own. Arthur's heart began to pump erratically as he wondered whether whatever Morgana was doing would be safe for him.

Then he didn't wonder anything at all, because as Morgana uttered her final syllable, Arthur was suddenly struck with the horrible sensation of being sucked into a vacuum cleaner. The world around him was growing smaller and smaller by the second, more constricting and suffocating against his newly fragile lungs. He tried to scream, but his throat would make no noise; he looked to Morgana but found that his eyes seemed to have rolled backward in his head. Attempting to thrash about wildly, there was no movement in his arms or legs. He was simply being pulled through a horribly small tube, eating away at him and cutting off his circulation even more with every second.

And, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. Arthur, upon the return of feeling in his body, dropped to his knees, retching. He was so beyond dizzy that the mere thought of opening his eyes was far beyond him.

"Is this him, then?"

Arthur forced his eyes open at the sound of a clipped female voice. Blinking a few times to clear his head, he looked up from his position of kneeling to see a young woman, definitely not past twenty, with curly brunette hair and a disdainful expression. Heaving himself up next to Morgana, who was already standing, only appearing windswept – God, that wasn't fair – and took in his surroundings.

It wasn't what he had expected.

Part of him was anticipating being led into a creepy old mansion, or at the other end of the spectrum, an abandoned hotel; something spooky to go with the magical aura. This…this was not either of those things.

It was a house; it was one of those places that normal, middle-class families lived in, with a cute kitchen furnished with a large dining room table, and a comfortable living room off to the right. There was even a television in it, surrounded by a few navy cushioned couches. Between the two rooms was a staircase leading up to what was presumably the upstairs, and Arthur hazarded a guess that there were bedrooms up there. Morgana did say there were quite a few people living here.

One of which must be the girl that was currently looking at him as if dissecting an interesting new specimen. Her hazel eyes were cold and calculating.

"Kara, this is Arthur," Morgana introduced him. "Arthur, Kara. She's a magic user from Virginia."

"Hello," Arthur said, a bit awkwardly. Morgana stepped hard on his foot, causing a shot of pain to go up his leg, so he attempted politeness and held out a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you."

Kara ignored the hand and instead looked to Morgana. "He doesn't look like he's up for the job. Lancelot has already sent the e-mail from his account requesting for an audience with the A-Ms tomorrow morning. I hope that you can properly prepare him in that time."

With one final disdainful glance, the girl turned on her heel and walked up the staircase, her floor-length red skirt dragging on the ground behind her.

Arthur turned to Morgana, not sure what part of that little speech he should address first. Morgana just shook her head. "That's Kara. She's a bitch, but you get used to her eventually. Don't listen to anything she says; she hates anyone that doesn't have magic, even Lance and Gwen."

"Who are –?" Arthur started to ask.

"Lance is Lancelot – Glad he got that e-mail done, he's an excellent hacker even without magic – He's from London. He was one of the first people here, helped save Gaius from the A-Ms a few years back but was recognized, so Gaius offered to let him stay here with him. This is Gaius's place, by the way," she said, gesturing around at their surroundings. "Set it up years ago in case of emergencies. Thank God he did or we'd all probably be dead."

"Am I going to meet all these people?" Arthur said, head trying to comprehend all this new information as quickly as he could.

"Of course you are," Morgana said, clicking her tongue. "They're all upstairs now – Although I'm sure Kara will have informed them that you're here and they'll all trample you like wildebeests."

"Pleasant thought," Arthur said, trying to keep his voice level, as he didn't know if she was being serious or not. Everyone in this house was at a greater advantage than he was, not to mention that they had every reason to hate him. They probably could trample him easy as pie, but he would try not to think about that. "Will they all be as rude as her?"

"Definitely not," Morgana shook her head. "They're – Oh, hi, Mordred!"

A figure coming down the staircase shot a smile at them, which was quite different from Kara's greeting indeed. As he reached their level, Arthur took in his appearance; about Kara's age, shorter than him, with dark curly hair and a white smile. He had a childish aura to him that made Arthur's tension ebb away a notch.

"Hi, Morgana," he reached forward and embraced her heartily. Arthur stepped backward to let them have their moment. "Good to have you back."

"Good to be back," Morgana smiled as they parted. "This is my brother, Arthur. Arthur, meet Mordred, another magic user and Kara's boyfriend."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at that remark – this kid, who seemed sweet as can be, dating her? – But he shook Mordred's hand nonetheless. Mordred pumped back enthusiastically.

"So great to meet you!" Mordred said. "You doing this for Freya is absolutely incredible, thank you so much!"

Arthur was a bit dumbstruck by the kid's pleasantness. Did he know who Arthur's father was? Well, that was an irrelevant question, as he had known Morgana for at least a couple of years now. "Wow, uh, thanks."

Arthur really had no idea what other responses there were. He was just trying to keep himself afloat and not get killed by apparently harmless sorcerers.

Luckily, he was spared having to make further conversation with Mordred by the appearance of two more men coming down the staircase, followed by the familiar Kara, whose expression was sour. One of them was young, looking to be about twenty-five and devastatingly handsome. The other was an older gentleman with long, white hair, whom the handsome one helped down the staircase.

"Arthur! What a pleasure to meet you at last!" The older man stepped forward around Mordred, and to Arthur's immense shock, he found himself engulfed in a hug. Arthur tried to breathe in deeply and not give any of his discomfort away. It was a nice hug, assuredly; one that reminded him of hugs he wished his father would have given him as a child. He shoved that thought out of his head immediately, though, and simply focused on the man in front of him, who let him go with a kindly smile. "My name is Gaius. It's wonderful to have you here."

I wish I could say the same, was Arthur's reflexive mental response, but he definitely wouldn't be saying that aloud. "It's good to meet you as well," he said instead.

"I'm Lancelot," said the other man with a smile showing off a row of pearly whites. "I'm one of the only non-sorcerers here, so if you're ever feeling overwhelmed by all of this, you can always come talk to me."

Arthur liked him immediately. And his appearance had absolutely nothing to do with it. (No, seriously, attractiveness wasn't even a factor in this circumstance. Honestly!) Any possible non douche-like responses, however, were chased out of his brain by a sudden shove.

A girl, rushing down the stairs at top speed, streaked past all of them and into Morgana, throwing her arms across his sister's shoulders in a tight embrace. The others had cleared a path for her, but Arthur hadn't been so lucky, and the girl's hand had hit the back of his neck. Rubbing it slightly, Arthur turned to get a good look at her. "Missed you," Arthur heard the girl mumbling into Morgana's neck as she cradled her.

As they broke apart, Morgana's glance at Arthur was a bit sheepish. "This – This is Gwen."

Arthur assessed the young woman in front of him, who had turned away from Morgana to address his presence. She was pretty in an understated kind of way, with long chocolate curls and smooth dark skin. She dimpled up at him and Arthur found himself grinning back. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend, Morgana," he said, tone teasing, yet he was sure it was obvious how happy he was for her. After the disclosure about her and Morgause, he hadn't expected a significant other, but his happiness at the prospect of some happiness for Morgana in the love department.

To his satisfaction, Morgana's chinks turned pink as she interlocked her fingers with Gwen's. "It didn't come up."

"Well, I'm glad someone's around to keep Morgana in line," Arthur couldn't resist throwing in, much to both Morgana and Gwen's chagrin, as the other woman was now blushing alongside her partner as they intertwined their fingers. He assumed that Gwen wasn't a magic user, judging my Morgana's earlier comment, at least, which he would slightly ashamedly admit, made him feel much more comfortable about their situation. "Is this all of you, then?"

Morgana shook her head as she surveyed the small crowd. "There's still Merlin. Where is he? I was certain that he'd be the first down here."

"He's out on one of his walks," Gaius said from Arthur's left, shaking his head in a fond sort of way. Turning to Arthur, he said "He's been a bit on edge since Freya was taken, so please excuse him if he takes it out on you."

"He takes it out on the rest of us easily enough," Kara said with a snort that made Arthur immediately want to jump to this Merlin person's defense, despite not knowing anything about him, whoever he was.

"How was Freya caught?" Arthur asked, curious. Morgana had never really expanded on the point, but Arthur figured he would need to know at least some of the details on her arrest if he was to pull off his role convincingly.

Everyone was silent for a moment and Arthur had a jolt of worry that he wouldn't be answered. Lancelot, however, took pity on him and spoke up. He knew there was a reason he liked him. "She was one of the escapees from the Emrys Prison Break," he explained. "Her disguise when she was out once, getting groceries, it slipped. And there was an officer nearby."

Arthur nodded in understanding. A little less than two years previously, Vickers Magical Prison, back in the UK, Manchester to be exact, was destroyed by a warlock that went by the name of Emrys; an old man, probably older than Gaius, but with immense raw power. Perhaps the most powerful sorcerer othe century, he burned the prison to a crisp, letting each and every one of the five hundred plus prisoners escape. He was number one on the hit list for the anti-magic forces, not just in London, but everywhere in the world, and those that he had aided and abetted in leaving the prison behind had their pictures spread around more than any other sorcerers. If Freya had been one of the escapees, recognizing her would be much easier than recognizing someone like Mordred or Kara, who Arthur had never heard of.

"Were all of you…?" Arthur began hesitantly, not sure how he wanted to phrase his question.

"Oh, no," Lancelot shook his head as he leaned against the plaster wall leading up the staircase. "The only ones involved in Vickers were Freya and…and Merlin."

Arthur nodded before asking another one of his endless strings of questions. "And what did Kara mean about you e-mailing off of my account?" He figured that Lancelot was the only one here who would answer his questions directly. He definitely felt more comfortable talking to him than he would talk to someone that had magic. "And while we're on that subject, what's an A-M?"

"A-Ms are the anti-magic forces," Mordred piped up as he put an arm around Kara's shoulder. Her expression seemed to relax slightly, but she was still glaring at Arthur as if he were a cockroach she would like to squash. "Just a shortened term."

"And I hacked into your e-mail account – sorry for that, by the way, but we needed to get ahead of the game," Lancelot said apologetically. "I contacted the head of the department, Alfonso Aredian, asking for an audience to talk about Freya and her connections to Morgana. His assistant replied; you've got a meeting bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Thanks," Arthur said hesitantly, although his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest. He wasn't ready to do this so quickly, to break every law that his father held dear.

"No, it's us who should be thanking you," Gwen said in earnest. "We have evidence for you, by the way; a blurry photo of Freya and Morgana that looks like it was from some security footage at a department store."

"Will that be enough?" Arthur questioned. He knew a bit about how the anti-magic forces operated, his father had drilled it into his head enough times, and they tended to be much stricter and much more 'shoot first, ask questions later' than ordinary police officers.

"Well, Merlin will be going with you, so it should be fine," Gaius said.

"Wait – what?" Arthur was shocked enough that he barely registered the impact of the statement. "Isn't this Merlin person a magic user, too? How the hell could he come along?"

"Merlin is a master of disguise," Gaius began to explain. Arthur listened attentively, although the rest of the crowd, who had probably heard this tale before, just looked on with slight boredom as he spoke. "He has a childhood friend by the name of Gwaine Macken who travels around the world with the guise of helping the anti-magic forces, while he actually does all he can to help sorcerers escape the confines of the law. Merlin occasionally sends him dates of when to lay low so that he can disguise himself as Gwaine, if need be. So really, Gwaine will be accompanying you to the anti-magic headquarters."

Arthur blinked a few times. That secret was obviously one well-kept within the magical community, and yet Gaius had just told him everything about it after knowing him for mere minutes. It struck him for the first time how much faith these people had in him, how much they were depending on him to do them right.

It had an almost humbling effect on him.

"Oh, I only just thought!" Gwen said suddenly. "You've come from London, I'm sure you're jetlagged. Do you want me to show you up to your bedroom? Gaius created another one especially for you."

"Er, thanks," Arthur said. Now that she mentioned it, he was getting tired. While it was only three in the afternoon in New York, it felt more like eleven at night in his mind. "That would be great."

"Follow me," she said cheerfully. "Unless…unless you want Morgana to come with you…?"

"I think I can survive without her," Arthur turned to smirk at his sister. Her eyes searched him worriedly; apparently both she and Gwen thought that he might be uncomfortable with the group unless he was with her. While he appreciated the sentiment, he was certain that no harm would befall him having Gwen accompany him upstairs. Besides, she wasn't a sorcerer. If she was, the concern might be justified.

Arthur followed Gwen as she careened through the throng gathered at the door that was now slowly dispersing after the departure of their new toy. That was how Arthur felt like he was perceived, at least; all of them seemed nice enough, but they were sorcerers. And even though he loved Morgana, he just couldn't wrap his head around being involved in this whole community. It was the most surreal experience he'd ever had, and he hadn't even met all of them yet.

Walking up the blue-carpeted staircase and away from the prying eyes, Arthur was greeted by a long, narrow hallway with a plethora of doorways on either side.

"We all have our own room," Gwen said happily. "Well, Mordred and Kara share. And so do Morgana and I," she added with a blush staining her pretty cheeks. "Was that too much information? I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. If you want, I won't talk about it. I'll tell the others not to talk about it, too. I –"

"Gwen," Arthur cut in and she stopped the blathering, blushing even more. Arthur was oddly endeared. "I'm glad that Morgana has you."

"Thanks," she gave him a white smile before pushing open a plain white door at the end of the hall. "Sorry if you don't like it, but you can always get Gaius or one of the other magic users to redecorate for you."

Arthur refrained from making a comment about not wanting any more magic around him than was strictly necessary and followed Gwen's hand into the room. It was furnished in dark red, a large and plush bed in the center of a white carpeted area, a large mahogany desk off to the side. There was a door on the other side of the room that Arthur presumed let to a bathroom.

Letting his suitcase clunk against the floor, he turned to Gwen, who was standing a bit awkwardly in the doorway. "Thank you. I think I'll turn in now."

She nodded in assent. "If you're not awake by six tomorrow, we'll send someone to get you. But I'm sure you will be. The kitchen's fully stocked; Mordred made sure of it, and it wasn't created magically, thank goodness. I'm a stickler for grocery shopping, magic food just tastes weird. So if you need anything…"

"I'll know where to find it," Arthur finished for her.

"Night, Arthur," she smiled again before leaving the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

Arthur gave out a heaving sigh as he surveyed the room once more. He really wasn't even all that tired, but this place made him edge-of-his-seat nervous. But he'd be out of here soon enough; just a couple of weeks and he would be back in London, hopefully never having to interact with another magic user not including Morgana. He was hopeful that he would at least earn the right to receive contact from her after this.

After pulling on pajama bottoms and t-shirt, Arthur curled into the comfortable scarlet comforter, unsure if sleep would come to whisk him away.

When Arthur awoke, he wasn't sure what time it was. He was barely aware of where he was, and it took a whole five seconds to remember that this was not his London flat. The tip off was that it was much warmer, the bed enveloping him in burgundy red instead of the usual cold, crisp black. There was also the clump of fur in his face constricting his breath. That kind of let him in on secret, too.

"Mmph," Arthur grunted as he tried to shove away what was trying and succeeding to cut off his oxygen supply. He heard a hiss as the thing fell unceremoniously to a heap on the floor. Breathing heavily, Arthur peered cautiously over the bedside to get a glimpse at his attacker.

The horrifying magical creature that he had expected to see was not there. Instead of having to face a chimera or a griffin, Arthur found himself face to face with a gigantic ginger cat, one who fur was dirty and matted, eyes flashing green in the dark of the room as the animal glared menacing at him.

Before Arthur could properly register the cat's appearance, he heard his door swing open, followed by the flash of the lights coming on. Blinking blearily in the sudden sensory overload, Arthur squinted up, vision slowly returning to normal as he took in the figure standing in the doorway into sharp focus.

It wasn't anyone he recognized, which immediately the hairs on the back of his neck shoot straight up. The stranger was a young man, tall and skinny and dressed in a dark green hoodie, with messy black hair that only partway covered overlarge ears, a narrow face with high cheekbones, and crystalline eyes that were currently staring at Arthur intently as he began to speak.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry about that," he groaned, his voice a low timbre. Arthur also noted that he was decidedly British, for his accent had a Welsh lilt. "Kilgharrah tends to find closed doors more like suggestions to stay away, not actual orders." Arthur must have looked lost, for the man explained himself further. "He can move through walls. Among other things. He's a horrible pest. I've threatened to kick him back out on the street seven times. He must know that I'm not serious."

Arthur, pulling blankets off himself as he unsteadily rose to his feet – he and the process of waking up were not on great terms – regarding the stranger with half irritability and half curiosity.

"Are you Merlin, then, or is there another person here that I wasn't aware of?" Arthur asked. If this person was Merlin, he and Arthur would be spending quite a lot of time together, and he wasn't sure how the other man would feel about that. He wasn't sure how he himself felt about it, really. He supposed he'd better wait for the man's name to see if the worrying was at all justified.

"Yep, that's me," he replied. Okay, so the worry wasn't entirely a product of Arthur's mind. Merlin strode further into the room, around the other side of Arthur's bed to crouch down next to Kilgharrah, apparently, although the true ridiculousness of that name was matched only with Merlin's own moniker, for that certainly had to be a ruse, or else a very bad joke, to name a magical child Merlin. The other man kept chattering away, however.

"And that makes you Arthur Pendragon, my partner in crime come morning, huh?" Arthur peered over the bed to see Merlin carefully petting the top of Kilgharrah's head. The beast was purring now, obviously content. "Hope you're up for it; we all really appreciate you coming here to help us out. Morgana speaks highly of you when she's not ranting about your 'utter stupidity' – direct quote, in case you were wondering – so I have high expectations."

Arthur wasn't sure what part of that he wanted to address. What really piqued his notice was the mention of tomorrow, meaning that he had not slept for fifteen hours straight. He hadn't expected to, but he couldn't help but hope. "What time is it?"

"About eleven at night," Merlin said as he rose to his feet from his position next to Kilgharrah. Apparently he had talked to the cat or – Arthur shuddered – cast a spell on him, for the animal was curled up in a ball now, seemingly fast asleep. "I dunno if you'll be able to fall back asleep. If could help you along…?"

Merlin seemed to realize the connotations of his sentence, for he quickly backtracked, formerly pale cheeks tinged pink. "That was not a come on. I meant with magic."

Arthur, who had realized what he meant, would have really preferred sex to magic. He wasn't one for sleeping with strangers, but he was certain that that would be far preferable to slipping into a magic-induced sleep. Besides, Merlin wasn't half-bad looking.

"Well, it would have been a pretty bad come on," he joked, knowing it was kind of weak, but his verbal arsenal wasn't fully equipped during the first five minutes of being awaken. "And I'm fine. I'll fall back asleep as long as that demon cat doesn't bother me."

"Oi, Kilgharrah is not a demon!" Merlin shook a finger at him, but was grinning in jest. "He's a murderous school bus."

"I'm not sure if I want to ask what that means," Arthur regarded Merlin with a raised eyebrow.

"You'll understand once he plows into your legs five or six times," Merlin gave a fake shudder, which made Arthur chuckle. "I'll leave you to it, then. And I'll most likely be your wake-up call in the morning; I'm not sure how many people will be getting up to see us off."

"See you then, I suppose," Arthur began to smile as well. For a sorcerer, Merlin seemed okay. Definitely not dangerous; he may be a master of disguise according to Gaius, but after only a few minutes, Arthur felt entirely at ease with him. He wondered what could have possibly been meant about Merlin taking out his anger on him. There didn't seem to be anything threatening about him.

Except, of course, that he had magic.

"Do you want me to take Kilgharrah out of here?" Merlin asked, oblivious to Arthur's thoughts. "He won't wake for hours, but…"

After a glance at the creature, which looked like he was snoring – cats could snore? – (apparently magical cats did), and shook his head. "I'll be fine. If I wake up with a clump of fur on my face again I'll just yell for you to come and deal with him for me."

Merlin let out a full laugh, mouth opening wide. "I'm right across the hall, so I'll definitely hear you. Goodnight, Arthur."

"Night," Arthur smiled a bit bemusedly as Merlin gave a little wave as he shut the door.

He sat there in silence for a few moments, trying to shake the feeling that something of the utmost importance just happened.