'You'll be working alongside Detective Sergeant Pendragon,' the fellow Constable said. 'He's in the office just ahead.' Gwen was what she'd asked him to call her. His first impression of this age old establishment was Gwen telling him to ignore her proper title. It went against all the rumours of how rigorous and demanding it was to work under the infamous DCS Pendragon.
She was leading him through the main floor of investigations. There were working areas for at least thirty odd police officers, with several larger private offices at the sides. Merlin could barely fathom the enormity of Scotland Yard's central building, let alone the hundreds of people it employed. He was one of them. To fight against the evil that would try to bring London burning to the ground. At least he liked to think of it in those grand terms. Smiling to himself his curious eyes studied everything they could.
'DC Emrys?'
He stopped short of walking into her. 'Hm?'
'Are you alright?' she asked kindly.
'Yes. It's all just . . . really new. Really,' he paused, searching for the right word. 'Grand.'
'I know how you feel,' she said. 'Oh, I should warn you. Arthur, I mean Detective Sergeant Pendragon, he's had a bit of a rough week. Well, rough life. He's under a lot of pressure from his father and I think it's made him a little bit . . . overbearing.'
'Right,' Merlin murmured, eyeing her. 'His father being the Chief Superintendent?'
'Yes. You're well informed, aren't you?' she said lightly with a smile.
'Well, thanks, for the warning. I'll keep it in mind,' he reassured her.
'Good. It's your first day on the job so as long as you don't screw up-'
'I don't intend to,' he said, confidence and enthusiasm in his step.
'Then it will all be fine. I have to get back to my Pendragon now,' Gwen told him.
His brows furrowed with a puzzled look.
'Oh, there are three of them,' she clarified.
'Bloody hell, that's a bit excessive isn't it?'
'Morgana, I mean Sergeant Pendragon, she's Arthur's sister.'
'Doesn't work with the CID then?'
'Oh no. She wanted to take "her own path",' Gwen explained, quoting in the air with her fingers. 'That's what she calls it.'
'But still chose to join the Met, like her brother and father?'
'I guess it runs in their blood.'
'I guess so,' he murmured. The name Pendragon struck a chord but he didn't know why.
'Well, good luck,' she wished him sweetly, straightening her white uniform shirt and heading over to one of the desks. Watching her go his eyes locked with those of who could only be Morgana. Ice blue rings encircling burning black coals. Strikingly clear. Painfully sharp. He'd find them pretty if they didn't send a shiver of fear up his spine. He'd learned to trust his instincts and they screamed at him about her. But she smiled. The terrifying stranger pulled up her red lips to reveal a wonderful and enthralling smile. Forcing a small one in return he ducked his head and walked forward.
Shaking the uncomfortable feeling away he prepared himself and knocked against the glass door; It's silver plaque reading 'Detective Chief Inspector'.
'Come in,' a crackling voice commanded, and Merlin obeyed, closing the door behind himself. An old man sat behind a desk, holding several papers with a look of deep contemplation. Hovering just beside him was a young man. Blonde dishevelled hair and blue eyes, like Morgana's. Only he didn't feel fear staring into them. Instead he felt something he couldn't really describe. An entirely new feeling. It was a maelstrom of concern, warmth, intrigue and respect. The rush of emotions came out of nowhere and his breath hitched for a moment. 'I'm DCI Kilgharrah. Most shorten that to K. You would be DC Emrys, correct?'
Merlin cleared his throat and fetched up another smile. 'That's me.'
'You have got to be kidding,' the young man groaned, looking up to the ceiling with exasperation pulling at his features. 'This is my new Constable?'
'DS Pendragon, he isn't your anything. He belongs to no one and nothing, but this city's justice. He will, however, be working with you for the foreseeable future,' the old man said with a stern glare at his subordinate.
'I can assure you I am capable. Otherwise I wouldn't have made it this far,' Merlin interjected with a more genuine grin.
'Oh, I don't doubt that for a second. It's just you don't seem the type who could defend an innocent in the face of harm. More the . . . sit-at-a-desk-and-file-paperwork type,' DS Pendragon chided, and Merlin felt the odd mixture of feelings in his chest twinge with something akin to fondness before twisting into a much more potent, and welcomed, dislike. He broadened his stance.
'Yes, well, it's not your decision who you have to work with. As it isn't mine either,' he snapped, catching his tongue before he could say something more offensive.
'If you two are quite done, I think you should get started on the Old Religion case,' DCI Kilgharrah huffed.
'The what?' D.S. Pendragon asked, giving Merlin one last glare of disdain before turning to face the old man. 'I haven't finished with-'
'This takes precedence,' the DCI cut him off, raising a decisive hand. 'Your cases will be passed onto another Detective.'
'They're my cases! I've been working on the one with Morgana for the past six months,' DS Pendragon erupted with his wounded pride. 'Gathering intel, getting witnesses to trust us enough-'
'And she'll be fine closing it on her own,' DCI Kilgharrah said sternly. 'Not that she should be involved with it in the first place.'
Merlin took a few steps towards the glass desk. 'Out of curiosity, what is the Old Region case?'
DS Pendragon gave him a look of pure and utter scorn.
'A series of murders by the same group. They claim to be a part of the so called "Old Religion". It would be classed as terrorism and passed onto another division if it weren't for DCS Pendragon,' Kilgharrah explained, shooting an accusatory glance at the Superintendent's son. 'A few hours ago we found another body.'
'Where?' DS Pendragon inquired, his tone dripping with authority. At the news of a body he'd forgotten all his previous concerns and seemed completely involved in what DCI Kilgharrah had to say. Merlin found the ease of transition remarkable. Impressive even. Then he drowned those thoughts and let the irritation flourish.
'The basement of Regis House. We've managed to close down the first few floors, but there are some important IT corporations stationed there, so you may have to deal with some prying eyes.'
'Not a problem,' DS Pendragon said, and Merlin felt that fondness return for a second before he squashed it into nothingness.
'You'll also be going underground,' the D.C.I. continued.
'Underground?' Merlin questioned in surprise.
'Are you naturally this thick or do you work at it?' the blonde quipped.
'Boys,' Kilgharrah warned. 'It's not a well known fact, DS Pendragon, so his shock is perfectly understandable. You see, DC Emrys, it's the entrance to a closed down section of the Underground, once used for shelter in the Second World War and-'
'With all due respect, K, we don't need a history lesson,' the young Pendragon asserted, turning to Merlin. 'Come on, DC Emrys. Time to see if you can cut it here at Scotland Yard.'
Merlin stepped out the way just as the DS brushed past, clapping him on the shoulder with unconscious force. He was just about to follow when he heard K clear his throat. Looking back at the old man he was caught in a suffocating stare.
'I'm sure you'll do well to conduct yourself professionally,' he remarked, watching Merlin with a strange twinkle in his eyes.
'Of course,' Merlin said.
'And follow any orders given?'
'Obviously.'
'You have a lot of potential here, Merlin,' the man noted with a dark tone that left Merlin wondering if it was a warning or a compliment.
The strange use of his first name put him a little on edge. 'I'm glad you think so?'
'Well then. Your commanding officer awaits, young Constable.'
Merlin nodded to him, eyeing him with curiosity for one more second before he left. DCI Kilgharrah had this strange sense about him, as if he knew something important but would never say anything. The shine in his eyes kept them youthful while the rest of his body had succumbed to age. The wrinkles, the grey hair that had begun overriding the previous dark ones and the ridiculous amount of patience. Merlin could never be so peaceful, patient and compliant in terms of time. Every word he'd spoken had been slow and thought about before spoken. Merlin usually spoke his thoughts without vetting. So, in retrospect he perhaps needed to borrow some of K's well honed patience.
'DC Emrys!' a voice bellowed behind him and Merlin snapped back into reality, awkwardly tripping slightly as he left the office and ran after the DS.

Merlin stifled a cough as he followed DS Pendragon down an uncomfortably small stairwell. The lighting was poor and the resultant shadows gave a wonderfully eerie atmosphere to the surreal experience. The walls consisted of aged brick work and cobwebs hung hauntingly from the ceiling, no doubt defying the earnest efforts of the Regis House employees.
'Who found the body?' he asked the policeman leading them down to the basement, the staircase narrow and steep.
'A technician. Apparently they use this place to house optic fibres. They feed them through several small tunnels.'
'Tunnels large enough for a person to fit through?' DS Pendragon inquired, Merlin hiding a grin at the ease with which they had begun their partnership.
'Not if they need to breathe. The station beneath hasn't been entered by a human for more than fifty years. Only the small service tunnels have been touched,' the policeman informed them. 'They just feed the fibres through from one end to the other.'
Merlin suppressed a shudder; the space seemed incredibly small at the man's words, and he'd never been fond of small places. 'Could it be, though? Entered by a human, I mean.'
'Like I said, the air is impossible to breathe and half of it's probably flooded, so no,' he said before reaching the base of the stairs. Several people in white suits shifted about the dimly lit area, taking samples and bagging evidence. Every now and then there was a blinding flash of a camera. 'If you wouldn't mind suiting up before entering the crime scene?'
The officer left and DS Pendragon scoffed. 'He's a bloody PC, and thinks we don't know procedure?'
'I'm sure he didn't mean it like that,' Merlin said as he grabbed the cold fabric and began tugging it on over his uniform. DC Pendragon wore a suit instead. Plain-clothes suited him. The way the waistcoat accented his hip to shoulder ratio was impossibly perfect- Professional. He just looked rather professional. That's why they suited him.
'So, what's you're name?' DS Pendragon asked nonchalantly, pulling up the zip on the front of the white suit.
'DC Emrys,' Merlin replied with a frown. He knew his name already, didn't he?
'First name, you idiot.'
'Oh! Wait, why do you want to know?'
'No one uses formalities, at least not if we aren't with K. He's a stickler for protocol,' DS Pendragon explained. Merlin couldn't help but note how each movement the Pendragon made was determined and sure. It was impossible for one person to have such confidence, such unfaltering arrogance, all shown in just a simple act as putting on a suit. 'Call me Arthur.'
Merlin hesitated before saying, 'I'm Merlin.'
'What kind of a name is that?' DS Pendragon - Arthur - asked with a low laugh.
'I didn't choose it,' he defended, but a smile spreading quickly on his face.
'I can tell,' Arthur said with a smirk before ducking under the police tape. When Merlin found himself hovering over the body beside his new co-worker the collision of odd sensations returned. Only amplified ten fold and tainted with a darker substance. He studied the girl laying dead at his feet, yet unmoved or covered.
Death he could handle. Strangely so in fact. This was different though. Her eyes were wide open, glazed over, but the fear still shone through. Her features caught in the moment of her end, capturing the terror.
'Why does she look like that?' he choked out, his imagination hitting overdrive and beginning the torment. That's why he solved homicide cases. He felt the pain, the suffering, more so than he thought possible, and he had to put them to rest. Put their killers in chains and behind bars.
'Clearly she was scared out of her mind,' Arthur said calmly, crouching down and staring at her throat. Merlin followed his line of sight to see the black ink, spiralling in a circle into a single point in the centre. 'That's the sign of the Old Religion and, if I've read the files well enough, means there's more murder to come.'
'What do you mean?' Merlin asked.
'The spiral symbolises a cycle. A cycle of death if you wouldn't have guessed it. They work in cycles and they've been through two so far. That's what we know anyway' Arthur said. 'Each cycle has had six murders.'
'So, if they're not stopped, five more people die,' he said thickly. The pressure started to drag him down.
'Exactly, Merlin. You're catching on already,' Arthur remarked with a sarcastic smile as he stood up and began studying the area.
'Why the throat?'
'We had a psychological analyser work on the last case, several years ago. It was before my time, but apparently she claimed they draw it on their throats in celebration of their screams.'
Merlin swallowed heavily. He'd been at murder scenes before but never for something like this. Never for something so ritualistic, cruel, and endless. Then he saw it. In the floor there was an indent running round in a large loop. Dust layered most things but the indents were being cleared out by a member of forensics.
Turning to one of the PCs he pointed at the circle and asked, 'What is that?'
'A manhole. Nothing important. No one could survive down there,' the man answered, dismissing it without a second thought.
'Right. It's the entrance to that Underground station, isn't it?'
'Yep. Hasn't been opened. You can tell. The dirt hasn't been moved much. If that thing had opened, we'd know it,' he explained with the kind of pride Merlin had found so many in the Met possessed. Arrogance could be another word for it.
'Merlin, if you're done chatting up the police officer, would you mind getting over here?' Arthur beckoned.
Merlin headed over to him, avoiding the forensics team as best he could. 'I was not chatting him up.'
'Sure you weren't.'
Sighing he let it go. 'What did you find?'
'Nothing more than we have already,' he said with a disappointed sigh.
'What? Nothing?'
'Forensics need to analyse the evidence and we've concluded it was the Old Religion,' Arthur explained. 'There's nothing else we can do. At least not here.'
'What about other clues?' Merlin pressed, finding the lack of enthusiasm from Arthur peculiar.
'Like?'
Merlin floundered for a moment. He felt it in his gut. There was something there. How could that be explained without him sounding a complete and utter idiot? 'Well, I don't know, but-'
'But nothing. Our efforts will be best spent researching the past crimes, looking for links and re-interviewing past suspects,' Arthur listed before Merlin cut him off, the entrance to the station in the corner of his eye.
'What about down under,' he said with a devilish smile. 'Personally, I'm not convinced that it wasn't opened.'
'The dust clearly indicates-'
'Does it though?'
'Unless magic's involved, no one's been down there,' Arthur said with harsh finality.
Merlin felt it shift beneath his skin. Like a drug it set his sensations alight, clawing and burning to be released. He'd never known what that sensation was, but it was there at that moment. Which terrified him.
'Please?'
'You heard the officer, you can't even breathe properly,' Arthur reasoned.
'Then we can get masks,' Merlin said.
'Why are so adamant to go down there?'
'It's just a feeling. Don't you ever follow your gut instinct?'
Arthur stared him skeptically. 'Fine. We'll take a look. Tomorrow though. For now we should look back over the old cases.'
'Thank you,' Merlin said just as Arthur shot him a stern glare.
'I'm not agreeing out of the kindness of my heart, Merlin. I just have the same gut feeling,' he said. 'So, why don't we get some coffee and pay a visit to the Met Archives?'
'Right you are, Sire,' Merlin said cheerily before catching his last word. Sire? 'I mean, Sergeant. Arthur. Not, not sire-'
'I quite like it. If I'm your sire, then you'd be what? My manservant?' he suggested with an evil grin while ducking back under the tape and tugging off the suit. Merlin's stomach knotted and he followed with burning cheeks. Again, the - whatever it was - rolled lazily through his veins, buzzing with excited energy. He pulled down the white fabric and watched as Arthur climbed the stairs, on the phone to K.
'We're gonna check out the files; let forensics do their thing and then we'll move out from there,' he recounted into the phone, his voice fading slightly as the distance between them grew. 'DC Emrys? He hasn't screwed up. Not yet anyway.'
Merlin felt his lips twitch into a smile. Putting the suit in a bundle on the table, he gave one last glance at the crime scene before leaving.

The shadows seemed to cling to him even when he'd left and was sat in the passenger side of the car. Arthur was concentrating on the traffic while Merlin focused on the warmth of the car's heater, the muffled noise of the city outside, the patter of rain on the windshield as it began to fall from the grey sky. Early morning and already the weather had turned.
'Why do you think they do it?' Merlin asked softly, closing his eyes to find the images of the spiral, the girl's eyes, waiting for him. He let them bore into his mind.
'Do what?'
'The Old Religion. Is it a game to them? Do they kill for a purpose?'
'Jesus, talk about morbid conversation,' Arthur muttered.
'Comes with the job, doesn't it?'
He heard Arthur sigh. 'I wish I knew. They seem to kill randomly, and the way they do it is still a mystery. For god's sakes who 'they' are is still a mystery.'
'Is that why you were so quick to dismiss the crime scene itself?' Merlin asked, eye lids flicking open as they pulled up to a traffic light turning red.
'Yes.'
'But this time you had the gut feeling, didn't you?'
'That I did,' Arthur said with a grim smile. 'So, how long have you been with the Met?'
Merlin let his eyes close again, relaxing into the casual and relaxed topic change. 'What about you?'
'Rather evasive,' Arthur mused with mock suspicion in his tone. 'Five years.'
'And you're already a plain-clothes DS?'
'Joined when I was eighteen and studied part time at Westminster. I got my BA last year,' he said with pride. 'A degree and talent can get you far in the world.'
'Bachelor of Arts?' Merlin queried.
'Oh, right. I studied Criminology,' he said.
'Huh.'
'What?' Arthur asked, taking Merlin's acknowledgement to be judgement.
'Didn't figure you for the Uni type, that's all,' Merlin mused.
'Didn't you go to university?'
'Of course I did,' he snapped.
'Where?'
'Oxford.'
Arthur scoffed. 'Figures. I'm stuck with a pretentious idiot for a DC.'
'I am not pretentious!'
'But you are an idiot,' Arthur noted with a smile. 'Here we are then.'
The car jostled slightly as it drove over a speed bump and stopped in front of a towering building. They climbed out and ran through the rain to the refuge of the lobby. Merlin pulled out his badge, flashing it to a security guard before he approached the reception desk. The marble floor reflected the amber hue of the lights, the sound of their footsteps clear and joined by the sound of rainfall outside. The only two sounds in the otherwise deathly quiet building.
The young woman looked up and recognition sparked in her eyes.
'Detective Sergeant Pendragon,' she said with a playful smile, leaning forwards over the counter. 'Please tell me this is a social call?'
'Sorry, Kate. We were drunk, I was young and right now I'd like to see the Old Religion files,' Arthur replied with a courteous smile. Merlin raised a brow at the scene before him. Ignoring his request she leaned to the side and gave Merlin a once over.
'Are you his new partner?'
'DC Emrys,' Merlin said.
'Thank god you're a guy. If not I'd have had competition,' the young woman said with a not so innocent joy.
'Like I said: Drunk,' Arthur reminded her matter-of-factly. 'The files, if you please, officer?'
She huffed and pulled out a set of keys. 'Fine, fine. Follow me.'
'Thank you,' Arthur said with exasperation, giving Merlin an apologetic smile. As she led the way Arthur walked in step with him. 'Sorry about her.'
'Why? I'm not one to judge,' Merlin said, tucking his hands into his trousers.
'There's something about you,' Arthur mused, mostly to himself. Ahead, the young woman, Kate, unlocked a door and called back, 'Come on then, officers!'
Merlin felt like he stood on a precipice, wanting Arthur to continue and just say something else. The DS titled his head slightly and shook it with an odd smile, ducking away from Merlin's gaze and heading through the door. Hissing out a breath he'd been holding in anticipation of . . . something, Merlin followed. Kate lead them through into a huge expanse of storage cabinets, with the one lonely desk to the side. It was a terrifying maze of corridors and metal, shadows and dim light.
'The files are over here,' she told them, turning down a corridor and opening one of the cabinet sections, the door screeching slightly as she moved it out of the way.
'That's a lot,' Merlin noted, staring with awe at a collection of more than just papers and boxes, but evidence bags by the dozens.
'Twelve serial murders, what did you expect?' Arthur said and thanked Kate who left them. Not before giving her phone number to Arthur on a piece of paper that is. Merlin saw him discreetly stuff it away into his trouser pocket. The transgression was bizarrely irksome for him to watch so he focused on the cabinet.
'So,' Merlin began, clapping his hands together and staring at over a decade's worth of case files and evidence. 'Where do we start?'

They didn't leave him alone. Persistent. Cold. Shadows. Staring at the crime scene photos, he didn't see mutilated bodies. He didn't see blood or gore. He saw fear. A fear he could barely imagine yet he could almost taste the terror in the air itself. A stagnant, bitter odour left behind. In his mind their shadows rushed, tearing into him and deafening him with their screams. Silent screams.
'Are you okay?'
Merlin ran a shaking hand through his hair.
'Merlin?'
'Yeah, I just,' he paused, flicking the file shut and leaning back in the chair. 'It's ridiculous, that's all.'
'I know how you feel,' Arthur said sympathetically. Looking up Merlin watched him tidy the papers in front of him and pile them up in a stack. 'We've been here for hours and nothing of note has come up.'
'Oh god,' Merlin breathed. 'Stating the obvious, now that's always a bad sign.'
Arthur laughed softly. 'Shut up, Merlin.'
The tingle beneath his skin flared, the heat lashing out in his chest for a split moment.
'Forensics haven't called, have they?' he asked quickly, doubting his own sanity. He could still hear them, faint and muffled and getting quieter by the second. Still there though. Screams that weren't screams. Then he had the increasingly volatile sensations to contend with.
'Not yet. Look, how about we just call it a night? There aren't any clear lines of enquiry to pursue so-'
His mobile rang out and Arthur quickly took it from his pocket to answer. Merlin watched his face as he absorbed the information.
'Thanks, and call if anything else crops up? Good, right then, bye.' Hanging up he looked back to Merlin, his tired expression morphing seamlessly into one of triumph. 'Looks like our gut feelings were right. This case has one difference to all the others.'
'What?'
'They found a hair,' Arthur said his eyes alight with the new possibilities.
'Have they traced the DNA on the database?'
'Yeah, but no matches. Still, we know she's blonde and we have her DNA which is more than we've ever had before,' he said, drawing out the silver lining.
'And we know it's a she,' Merlin added.
'Exactly.'
'Might not be the killer's though,' he realised.
'Well, tomorrow we can do a check of anyone the victim may have had contact with, and move on from there,' Arthur said with finality, his chair scraping on the floor as he stood up. 'Now, we can go home.'
'Just one thing,' Merlin started, packing up the files as quickly as he could with Arthur. 'Why only now would the killer leave their DNA when in all other cases there was no trace left at all?'
'Maybe it wasn't as planned out,' he suggested as he helped Merlin carry the boxes back to their shelves. 'Hurried maybe?'
'Still no motive for any of the killings,' Merlin said grimly. 'And without knowing the thinking behind them I doubt we can wonder about any planning that went into it.'
Arthur sighed. 'You're such a pessimist.'
'I like to think of myself as more of a realist.'
'A depressing one, then,' Arthur corrected and clapped Merlin on the shoulder as he walked by. 'Need a lift?'
Merlin slid the door across, hiding the horror. At last he could begin to focus fully on something other than the unsolved murders. 'If it's not too much hassle.'
'Of course it's not,' he said with a smile. 'Come on.'
The clash of warmth and lingering cold in his body was dizzying. Arthur seemed to make the coldness of the deaths more manageable. Whether that was because it helped keep Merlin from dwindling in his mind too much or because Arthur himself had some strange significance, he had no idea.

Back in the car, Merlin fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Night hadn't even fallen yet, and they were calling it quits.
'There must be something more we can do,' he implored, finding the thought of simply ending the day's work then and there unbearable.
'You spent most of your first day on this team reading files,' Arthur said, darting his eyes to Merlin every now and then. 'And you don't want to go home?'
'No,' Merlin answered firmly, as if it could hardly count as a question. Obviously he wanted to have done something other than read those files. He scoured desperately for that something, and there it was waiting. 'What about the gut feeling?'
'What about it? That we were right?'
'Yes, but mine was about the manhole, not just this case in particular,' Merlin explained. 'The one discounted by forensics because no dust had moved?'
'You want to go down there, don't you?' Arthur said with exasperation.
'Don't you?' he countered, searching Arthur's face for a sign of mutual understanding. Instead he found a stern glare, the striking blue eyes looking aged and worn. They looked battle worn, a disturbing combination of youthful strength and a weariness that only comes from experience.
'Oh, alright,' Arthur finally murmured, turning on the indicator and taking a sharp left turn back to Regis House.