When he was fifteen years old, he asked his mother, "Why on God's green Earth did you give me this ridiculous name?!"

Hunith only smiled, kissed his cheek and sat him down at the table while she fetched some medicinal supplies to take care of Merlin's new flux of cuts and bruises. He pouted petulantly and ever since they started Arthurian Legends in school he'd been begging her to change his name to something "normal" like Henry or Gael or at least a character with a happier end in the story. Yeah, he was named after the most powerful magician in mythology, but he was also named after a madman/bard/war hero/ immortal half-demon that got the shortest end of the stick possible... No, not an end. He just got a billion splinters lodged too deep to pull out but not deep enough to immobilize him from casting spells to save his prattish, dollophead of a King. It was an irritating and painful prick at every wave of the hand, but somehow never enough to stop him.

Merlin hated it.

I would have said, hell no!

"Your father named you Merlin because he believed that you would live up to the name... and I've never changed it because I don't doubt his opinion..."

Merlin only huffed as she dabbed at his cuts, "But he gets the short end... of the longest stick the world, Mother...A servant for all eternity? An outsider! Are you saying that my fate is to be the same way?"

Hunith only smiled, "I only mean that you are meant for greatness... I am also surprised that you had to really ask the question considering..."

He huffed and hung his head, waving away the rest of her statement. He knew, he knew... It didn't take a genius to know, though the children at school seemed to know exactly how to taunt him to the edge of his control until he was finding himself more often than not breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth and searching for an inner peace that was being tilted to the side of an emotional disturbance that he couldn't afford. With greatness came great responsibility, great control, and apparently a great amount of bullshit from other people.

When was it a good idea to fuck with the quiet people?

When he was born, the doctors said that there may have been something wrong with his eyes... They were gold when he was born and faded to a beautiful blue after a door was slammed shut. His father had promptly said his name would be "Merlin", being that their last name was "Ambrosius", Hunith only winced at the future bullying and teasing that the babe in her arms was sure to endure.

When his father died, Hunith said that he'd cried and cried and the house shook. His eyes glowed and the rain almost drowned Ealdor. As he got older, this thing he called "a disposition" and Hunith called "magic" grew stronger and he had to learn to control it... It had never been easy, but he supposed on necessity of discipline he had to learn to be more laid back that he should have been about everything. As a consequence, he became versed in the art of zen through the studies of martial arts and a few other things that were supposed to keep him always aware and always calm. He had a sneaking suspicion that in the grand scheme of destiny that would come in handy for someone that wasn't him. He was quiet, didn't bother anyone. When he was bullied he didn't get scared, he just gave them what they wanted which was usually monetary. He'd only magic it back into his pocket after they were done with him. No harm, no foul: no anger.

He was fifteen now and was doing everything he could to repress it, to keep it secret and to keep himself sane. Sometimes, every part of him wanted to scream out in anger and rage and sadness sometimes. Sometimes he would just to make it hurt less. There were moments when an unknown depression would set in and it took his mother's soothing words and a very long session of meditation to manage to get himself out of bed. He'd go outside and scream until he was hoarse and the clouds rolled over head. His mother would only say that he had a gift that should be used properly and could get him taken away if the wrong people found out about it. There were days that he really just wanted to die, but of course Merlin in the legend didn't even get to die a proper death, no... he wasted away waiting for the return of his king, or sat int he wrong chair! It made him sick just thinking about it and he realized that even more than his own name and namesake he hated Arthur even more. What kind of prat would just let his best friend or whatever they had suffer like that? If he was Merlin, he would have told the King to go take a really long swim at the bottom of Lake Avalon on the principle of being a total and honest prat! And now he had to write a seven to nine paged essay on a theme in the Arthurian Legend or a relationship... His professor would have his head for what he actually had to say.

3 years later...

"Graduating at the top of his class, Merlin Emrys Ambrosius."

Merlin winced at his full name but didn't have time to feel more shame than that. There was a thundering of clapping and he shuffled nervously across the stage, careful not to trip, careful not to embarrass himself and careful to wave to his mother from where he was on the stage. That professor from his freshman year of English literature glared at him, still seething over his essay on King's Arthur's flaw and Merlin's short end of the stick, but he didn't really care and after rewriting it and extending it into a full thirty paged research paper that got him accepted into the top university in England, he didn't really care. Apparently, he wasn't the only one that thought that it was a about time that people stopped giving Arthur so much credit and started to pay attention to the always shoved aside wizard Merlin. Fictional character or not, Merlin had become a part of a legacy that had been attached to the Britain line of kings rather than to Merlin himself.


In his creation, Merlin is both a madman-prophet with no connection to King Arthur and a great war leader. Traditionally, he is not only immortal, but half-demon, half-human. Whether an adviser, the pseudo-sire of Arthur, or merely court sorcerer, there is no doubt that the figure of the wizard Merlin is encumbered with a fate worse than death: self-enslavement...

… I move to say that King Arthur's nobility, in any version of his legend, while not completely owed to Merlin, is reliant more upon Merlin's presence and guidance than any inherited or learned nobility... Whether Arthur is the cognizant descendant of Uther Pendragon, or the result of a magically allowed affair (which Merlin is responsible for), it is important to remember the lines of causality and how they end...

Merlin is the creator and renforcement of his servitude out of a misplaced sense of guilt towards Igraine and Arthur. Not only is Merlin's part to play in Arthur's siring ironic (because a man that can see the future would have definitely known what would happen), he becomes a sire of war as well over the outbreak of the war between Uther Pendragon and the husband of the Lady Igraine.

...In modern characterizations of Merlin, he is quite literally a servant to Arthur and the secret protector of Camelot. Merlin is not only the creator of Arthur's famous sword Excalibur, but the true power behind it...

...King Arthur Pendragon is nothing, and would literally be nothing, without Merlin standing as a catalyst, a point of resistance in the system of legend, and the necessary "Other" in the Lacanian sense of definition. Merlin is a sorcerer, a warlock, steeped in the mystical and utterly fantastic with an edge of the demonic and satanic. Arthur is the king of justice, the golden angel that will bring about a golden angel, the light to Merlin's inherent darkness and as such takes the place of privilege of a certain kind of immortality that both relies on Merlin's existence while attempting to thwart it...

...Though King Arthur believed in the equality of the Round table, the symbolism behind the act, Merlin will never sit at that table as an equal. He will never sit side by side with the men that rely on his protection and owe him their lives. His place is beside Arthur's chair, watching over the kingdom, over Arthur, and never being equal. He is the legitimizing force that is marginalized. He is the necessary evil, called evil because "good" has to exist for King Arthur to be "The Once and Future King". Merlin, for all his power and wisdom, becomes the dupe of destiny and receives the shortest end of the longest stick in the whole of existence. His share are the splinters digging through his flesh.


When Arthur Pendragon graduated high school at the top of his class, with every honor imaginable, with a million sports awards, his father told him, "You should have had a perfect GPA, you're slacking."

When he went to college at the top university, buried himself in his work and studies and learning the workings of his father's company, he didn't expect much of a difference. So when he graduated as second in his class to some nameless kid that wasn't even in the country (off defending his dissertation on Arthurian Legends and the construct of Merlin somewhere) a Merlin Emrys Ambrosius who'd had his mother retrieve his diploma and someone else give his speech, his father only shook his head in disgust and told him he was an embarrassment to his name despite all of the other awards and marks he'd gotten, it hadn't been enough. Arthur felt a cringe inside and stuffed down the roiling teenage emotions inside him in favor of saying, "Yes, father" "I will do better, Father" while staring at the old stone floors beneath his feet. Arthur learned early on to hide anything that his father would consider below the Pendragon name from him and his associates' prying eyes. So when he realized that he was less than attracted to the opposite sex, it was no surprise that he'd cut off any sort of public romantic relationship completely. His was more than a double life. Dr. Jekyll was way out of his league. In the day, he was Arthur Pendragon, one of the top students of his school, Uther Pendragon's heir, a competent businessman with a larger flair for diplomacy than his father, stern and obliging in his father's footsteps. At night, his Hyde was a party goer, a friend to all, a leader of a band, a football and rugby player, a philanthropist, an openly sexual man, and a talented man with the crowd.

When his father had fallen ill and Arthur took over the management of the company, he thought it was a chance change things, a chance to gain his father's approval for once in his life, a chance to consolidate his lives into one, but nothing seemed to go right when Uther fell ill. He felt more split between two lives than ever. His secretary had finally had enough of the Pendragon name and quit, screeching at Arthur on his first day of taking over that she'd had enough of his father and this company and she hoped they all burned in hell. He'd never heard from her exactly what had happened between her and Uther, but there were enough rumors to know that Uther was a demon in a freshly pressed suit to her and the rest of the staff of the company. Most were only surprised that she lasted as long as she had. Arthur was more than surprised after he'd gotten a few stories out of Gwen.

After her outburst, he understood almost immediately why everyone was hesitant to say anything to him about anything. Media swarmed him anytime he went anywhere, more than normal. Competitors were prying into his life and having him watched every minute of everyday. His employees avoided saying more than was absolutely necessary any time he was around. Company culture was ice cold and unpleasant until he could see them leaving the building. They probably figured that he would be just like his father and when he stepped into the role full of sleepless nights and floundering, it hadn't taken long for him to start snapping at employees from lack of sleep and exhaustion and frustration as he lost yet another file in the stack of folders, there was another mistake that no one took the time to inform him of, there was just another problem that everyone was too afraid to approach him about.

Today, half of his business consulting team had ended up in a car accident on the way to work that morning. He'd gone to the hospital to see them unconscious in their beds beside one another. The wounds hadn't been fatal, there was no brain damage, but they would not be up to work in a while from blood loss, trauma, and the general migraine that the doctors promised would set in. He could only tell them that he wanted to be kept abreast of their recovery, the company would be paying for whatever the insurance didn't cover, and that he wanted to speak to their families when they arrived.

The husband, and the woman's two children, and wife of the young pair that had ended up in the hospital that morning had been informed around noon and would be at the hospital before six. When he arrived, the pair were awake and a little groggy, but showed no signs of getting worse. The police established them to be not at fault for the accident. They looked at him in his suit as he walked in with terror and hatred and annoyance. He'd kindly told them not to worry about coming back to work until they were fully recovered, making sure to emphasize that their job would wait for them and they weren't fired. The reception to the news was skeptical, but he couldn't help that. He knew his father would have fired them, but the idea went against every sense of fairness and justice he held.

Before leaving, he'd taken the time to walk to his father's room then and look in on him... He wasn't looking any better...but he wasn't looking any worse either. The doctor's said it was a near stroke, or something like it and that he would be fine given time and rest... That had been weeks ago. Before he'd had time to worry more about it, he took a breath and headed back to the office. He didn't bother to look for anyone, only slipping into his office as quickly and as quietly as possible. He took a breath leaning back in his seat, breathing deeply after barely keeping his cool during yet another meeting with someone that he'd rather not deal with.

After a week of dealing with reactions like those and getting a general feel for the company's regard for their C.E.O., Arthur was exhausted. Morgana, his adopted sister, walked into his office with a shake of her head. It had always stumped him why Uther had adopted her as he wasn't exactly the most kind-hearted man, but he'd assumed that she was the daughter of some old business party that had been killed and left it at that. Morgana had never explained it, but there had always been a tension between the two that was more than palpable.

"You... look like shit," she said coming to sit down. "Being Uther is a little too much for you is it?"

He glanced at her teasing, he really didn't want to think about it, "You shouldn't speak ill of him, Morgana."

"Is he dead then?"

Arthur scoffed, he was sure that his father would out live them all just to spite them in the end. "When was the last time you went to see him?"

"Never."

Arthur sighed again, "Morgana..."

"I'm not here to talk about him," she interrupted before he could even start on his tirade leading towards father-daughter dances that she had no interest in. If she ever got married, which knowing Mordred was a definite possibility, Arthur would dance with her, she would give herself away and Uther wouldn't be invited.

"I'm here to talk about you. You've been snapping at employees, snapping at Gwen... that's new... What's going on Arthur?"

"I'm fine..."He winced at that.

Guinevere,nicknamed Gwen... she bore her name with such humble pride as if she really had been a queen in a past life. She'd been working for the company for about six years and was always on point, always polite, always wise and prepared. The three of them had grown up with Leon and they were almost a thing once before he realized that the thought of being with Guinevere, in all her sweetness, wouldn't quench the lust or stop the image of Colin Morgan from turning him on. He told her so and she explained that she was already dating someone and not to worry about it, he was more of a little brother to her anyway. It had shocked him even more that she knew that he was gay than the fact that she was dating to a man he'd known since high school and neither of them bothered to tell him about it. They'd never really been separated since, they rarely fought and Arthur's temper, as rowdy as it could be, had never turned on her. Arthur hadn't meant to snap at her... It was just not the right time to ask him anything about his father.

It had been right after he'd gone to visit the man and for once Uther was strong enough to speak. Arthur had been relieved, happy, smiling until Uther began to speak. He'd demanded to know why Arthur was there instead of at the company, why he was informed that several of the agreements that he would have never signed with certain companies were in fact underway. He'd demanded to know if his son was trying to ruin him while fighting back a hacking cough that sounded like doomsday. He hadn't meant to snap, he hadn't meant to, but he did and he could only stare in horror at the tone he'd used and the look of surprise, shock, and utter understanding in her eyes. It had taken him three days, to sort out his head enough to apologize to her, by then Gwen had already forgotten it and told him to take a day off before he gave himself a heart attack or something. She'd also taken the time to call Morgana from her own company for a much needed intervention.

Morgana took a glance around the office, everything looked like it was in an impossible disarray, insane and out of place but he looked just too tired to care. His tie was loose, his eyes were closed and if she tried hard enough she could think that he was sleeping.

"Let me reiterate... you look like shit."

"Morgana..."

"You need an assistant..."

"Father's quit."

"I said you need an assistant, not Uther. I heard about your team and I know you'll need someone fast. I don't want you trying to tackle this half-armed and get yourself a heart condition. I actually like you."

Arthur glared at her for the comment, but as usual Morgana didn't give a damn.

"I'll tell someone to put out and job posting and I'll do the interviews... no need for you to scare them off before they actually get hired..."

"I don't need an assistant!" He burst out. "And I can handle it myself."

The second part, Morgana had no doubt about. He'd always been able to handle it even if he had to work himself to just past death, he'd do it, because that was who her brother was... That didn't mean that she liked it or that she had to allow him to do such a silly thing, especially when there were plenty of people capable of handling the grunt work that needed to be done.

Morgana looked him over, "When's the last time you wore a suit that wasn't that one? Change of shoes? Had a real meal? Took a bath that wasn't a five minute shower? Went to sleep in your own bed? Seen your apartment? Seen your father's house? Went to see Mom?"

"I..."

"When's the last time you saw Uther?"

"Yesterday..."

Morgana nodded, "And I rest my case. I'll talk to the Knights and let them know that you are to go home... I'm sure Gwaine will have no problem hauling your pretty blonde head to sleep... or Percival."

He rolled his eyes, "Stop calling them the Knights..."

"I will when you get an addition that isn't straight from the Legends... all you're missing is a Merlin. Aren't you all called the Holy Grail?"

He snorted, that was the last thing he needed; though if a sorcerer could somehow fix his life, then he'd... warily take one. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the Arthurian legend that his mother had named him after on her dying breath. He didn't really think that he could live up to the standard of the Once and Future King... he seemed to not be able to live up to any kind of standard at all. Yes, he was famous and on the cover of a few magazines as Uther's son and a businessman of his own, but that didn't make him worthy of the name Arthur, or of the sword Excalibur.

He snorted thinking of the magical sword that was apparently his rightful possession, forged in a dragon's breath...He shook his head, such foolish things came to mind when he was too tired to think anymore. Besides the band name had been a gimmick, Gwaine had been the one to come up with it when they'd started out in his garage in high school. He laughed at the memory. Gwaine had been hammering out some solo that he just felt compelled to learn on his bass, Percival had been on guitar dueling him for it and Leon had been bashing away on the drums. When they realized that Arthur, nicknamed "Princess" by Gwaine after realizing that he was Uther's son, had a talent, they'd urged him to join for one night. No presssure, no need to do much of anything but fill in for one night for a band member that didn't actually exist. He'd been hooked immediately and stayed with Holy Grail any time they performed. He felt himself with them in ways that he hadn't been able to with anyone else. He kept the memories in his head to remind him that he wasn't only Uther's son and didn't have to be his father: hateful, spiteful, uncaring. He didn't have to be that way... But he could see why it would be easier. With caring came more emotions that Arthur had the capacity, strength, and wisdom to deal with. With a sigh, he fell asleep at his desk with Gwen coming in just before noon to give him some food, some coffee, and prep him for his next meeting. He thanked her for her kindness and told that he would be fine.


In Ealdor, at 12:15 pm, just as Arthur was finishing up his lunch and prep, Merlin Ambrosius packed up his belongings in the shocked office space surrounding him. People stared at him expecting an explanation, but there was none to give. His hair was mussed, his clothes were afflicted, his lips were bruised, but he didn't care and he didn't care to answer what exactly happened as he slung his laptop case over his shoulder and security zoomed up the stairs and into his ex-boss's office. Merlin was readjusting his belt, tucking in his shirt, and rubbing at his wrists to get rid of the dull ache that was still there as the noise started.

"Sir, what happened!? Your face!"

"You're fired!" Cenred called after him, dotting blood from his nose.

Merlin whirled, clutching the box of his things in his arms and glared at the man, pining him still and taking in that sleazy smile.

"I quit," Merlin countered and headed towards the stairs making sure to hurry down the seventeen flights, focusing on the thudding of his shoes against the floor, the thudding of his heart rather than the roiling nausea he was ignoring and the surge of indignation and rage. When he walked past reception, they gaped and called after him. He had to get out, before something bad happened. He had to get out before the fragile grip he had on his emotions slipped. He had to get out. Now.

"I quit!" He called over his shoulder and continued out, rushing out as quickly as possible and taking a deep breath of the air that would not choke him. He didn't stay there long, quickly walking to the bus stop to catch it home. He took a detour to the one cafe in the city of Ealdor that he could sit and take deep breaths. He cleared his mind first, sinking into a deep dark, the tremors eased, the roiling nausea ceased and he ordered his favorite tea. He took deep breaths as he sipped and contemplated the box on the table full of his things with a sigh. He'd just quit his job. His mother would flip, but he couldn't think about that at the moment. He had to count and breath and make sure his stomach settled. He felt his skin crawling and tried to push those feelings away and out of psychic reach. His phone rang as he made it to fifty-seven ab contractions and breaths.

Gaius was calling saying that he needed some help over the weekend and he wouldn't have to deal with it too much. He'd be in London, modern-day Camelot if the Londoners had anything to say about it, headed up by the famous Camelot Corp. run by Uther Pendragon and soon his son Arthur. Did everyone have a thing for the Arthurian legend besides Merlin? He choked it up to the bloody British obsession with the past and that one interesting piece of possible and widely spread history and literary production. It couldn't be literary trash as Merlin would have liked to call it, Geoffrey was a British Livinius, Herodotus, and Thucydides all rolled into one. It wasn't the history that Merlin had problem with, it was the character dynamic and creation and what that meant at large.

When he was sure that he was able to and his mother was well taken care of, he would move to somewhere no one knew off the bat that he was named from that stupid legend. Maybe he'd go to Mars. As he finished his tea, he took the time to calm himself and contemplate a session of practice that night to calm himself before getting on the bus and heading home. Hunith, being ever aware, met him at the door as he'd fumbled with his keys with big, loving eyes that went wide at his appearance. Merlin grimaced and set the box down as she reached up to hug him.

"Will called me," she said. "What happened?"

"Of course he did," Merlin replied as she drew back and let him inside.

He closed the door and hauled his box towards the small room he occupied in the house. It was a small house, but it had always been home. When he'd gone off to college, Hunith had called him nearly everyday to say that she'd missed him and the house was too big for her all alone... Of course, the house only had two rooms (one being more of a cupboard of sorts than an actual room) but he only smiled at his mother's voice and told her that he would come home as often as possible. He'd made it home almost every weekend, sometimes bringing her up to come and visit with him.

He sat down at the table, his mother joined him and looked him over.

"What happened dear?"

"It doesn't matter," Merlin said with a shake of his head. "What's important is that I don't work there anymore and I won't ever be going back..."

"I just don't understand Merlin... you were... so good at your job. You enjoyed it didn't you? You've been there for so long... I was sure that Wulfhere thought of you like a son... You were in his will after all..."

Merlin winced, he hadn't enjoyed it nearly as much as he would have liked it since Cenred took over from his father and his son had joined him as Vice President. Merlin had been wary of the man when he was Vice President and he was the President's personal assistant, but now that the roles had been shifted up, Merlin had become the personal assistant of Cenred the Father and Lot the Son. Cenred's father, Wulfhere, had been a good man, giving him a chance straight out of college to prove his worth. He'd even read Merlin's work on accident before their meeting and they spent a good deal of time talking about it... The man had asked him to autograph the copy he owned. He'd been flattered beyond belief and did his best to live up to the expectations that the man had for him... As far as he could tell, he had. The man had always been pleased with his work and somewhere in between he'd become a father to Merlin in ways that Gaius had not been and his own father could not be...

When he'd passed away, it was the one day that Merlin had worn pure black in a very long time. When he returned from paying his last respects to the man he'd been so proud and happy to work under, his mother told him he looked like a Gothic dream. He'd squirmed at the prospect of being in the man's will, but accepted the large sum in gold that Wulfhere had given him with the knowledge that he would never share tea and talk about the finer aspects of philosophy over breakfast with the man ever again, or pick up his prescription and badger him about his health ever again. He spent a few more days, visiting the his father's grave and Wulfhere's grave with a sense of loss and unfairness. He grounded himself in that reality, took a breath, and went home to start the next work week. Then Cenred took over and everything had changed.

He shivered at the thought and pushed it aside smiling at his mother and informing her that he'd cook dinner that night and restock the house before he left to London to help Gaius. She pouted at the idea of him being gone, but knew how much Gaius meant to him and conceded. Merlin changed and headed to the store with the grocery list and a host of bags to carry the groceries home and headed down the street to catch the bus. The trip was short only because they were mostly things that he was used to retrieving from the store. The trek home from the bus stop was always longer than the one out... Probably because he was struggling under the weight of so many groceries. It was times like these that he had to resist using his ma- disposition the most. Floating the groceries home would have only turned a lot of heads and drawn far too much attention. But as soon as he'd made it into the house and the doors were shut, the groceries took themselves to the kitchen and arranged themselves in the cabinets. Pans floated down onto the stove and the ingredients began to prepare themselves. In the dance of appliances, Merlin couldn't help but smile at the few appliances that he'd bought his mother over the years to make living on her own easier when he wasn't around.

The slicer had always been his favorite considering that Hunith was developing a painful sort of arthritis from all of her years as a cook. Merlin himself could chop as fast as she could in her younger days now, but usually didn't when his head wasn't set on cooking... his ma-disposition damnit had the tendency to revolt if he'd kept it at bay too long and little moments like this would keep it tame. They sat down to dinner together and chatted about their days other than Merlin's leave from Essetir Inc. He told her that he'd be back from his session within the hour and to head to bed, he'd lock up. Hunith kissed his cheek, told him to be safe and shuffled off to sleep.

When he reached the specially seclude pasture by the small lake near their house he breathed in deeply before kneeling by the water and continuing to breath in the essence of the forest, and let himself resonate with the feeling of the world around him. The earth thrummed with life beneath his feet, the water seemed to tremble at his proximity and when he started the sequence of movements from his study abroad, he felt everything shift into focus. All the stress, the worry and anything else beyond the physical movement floated away and he lost himself in thee swirling sweep of his arms, the flow of his kicks, it was simple and peaceful, thus when he ended he felt his disposition settle deep and peaceful, opening his eyes and seeing the last ripples of the water beneath his feet before heading back to his home to sleep and get ready to head to London in the early morning. He went to the graveyard on his way to the train station to apologize to Wulfhere for leaving the company and to talk to the father he'd never known for a while. It was calming, reassuring and just what he needed.


As usual, Morgana was finding it difficult to find someone with the correct qualifications for the position of Arthur's personal assistant. It wouldn't get any better no matter how hard she searched, they were either already employed, wary of the Pendragon family, or too attracted to Arthur...

That was until she took a step back, breathed, and opened the business newspaper to find that Essetir Inc. had lost its head secretary... a Merlin Ambrosius. Of course the details of the split weren't published, but that didn't matter... She'd dealt with Merlin before on one of her many interactions with Essetir, Inc. on Arthur or Uther's behalf and even in relation to her own company... The man had been intelligent, to the point, and extremely good at his job. He wasn't crass as Cenred, nor humorless. Instead, he was witty, snarky at times, cheeky most of the time and all around friendly. He was more diplomatic than Cenred's father had been and she suspected that the general quality of business correspondence between Essetir Inc and its many associates would greatly decline to a status worse than Uther's within the following weeks. If she remembered correctly, he was also close to Cenred's father and had worked for him for the six years before his death. She'd never met the man face to face, but spoke to him enough to have a good sense that he and Arthur would become as thick as thieves extremely quickly.

And now he was without a job...Morgana grinned standing with a new goal in mind, instead of having people come to her, maybe she should do her own scouting... starting with the mystically named Merlin. If this works out, Arthur will absolutely have to give in to the Knights. I'll make them get a round table for their break room or something.

Knowing Gwaine, they already had one.

When Merlin arrived at Gaius's small clinic, he was put to work immediately. In fact, as he was changing Gaius was giving him a list of things he needed to do and stacking patient files beside him. It didn't take long for Merlin to return to the ease and hurry of Gaius's holistic and organic clinic. He took up post beside one of interns named Freya who looked at a loss for the myriad of medicines and herbs on the rack. He glanced at the patient's file beside her.

"Wormwort," he offered softly with a smile.

She jumped and smiled at him, giving him a hug and a squeal for his appearance. They'd dated briefly, but it hadn't taken long to realize that they were really better off as friends. It was as simple as a lack of intimate spark between them rather than lack of chemistry. They chatted, ground, mixed, and bottled side by side for the better part of the hour. Merlin packed up the extensive number of tonics and powders in his delivery bag with labels and signature forms before heading out and promising to have lunch with Freya so they could catch up. She threatened him with Gaius's watery oatmeal iff he reneged on their lunch date.

The first stop was the hospital to a Dr. Nimueh who looked at him strangely. They'd never met before, but there was a moment in which a chill crept down his spine at her intense blue eyes. She seemed friendly enough, but Merlin couldn't shake the feeling. Half of the bag went to her and she gave him the empty one from the week before, signing his form before heading out the door. The next row of deliveries were home deliveries and at offices. A few older women who were on the cusp of healing up, a few pregnant women with aches and pain, and the last was the Pendragon office for a Morgana Le Fey.

When he walked into the office, he passed through reception with a smile and was taken up to the top floor to an office that said "C.E.O." in bold letters. The woman who'd lead him there winced at the commotion inside, it sounded like a pair of bickering siblings, a woman and a man. Altogether, if he had to guess, the woman was older or at least the more generally responsible of the two.

"I don't need a personal assistant! I can take care of myself!"

"I'm going to have to disagree with you," the woman replied. "I think you're on the edge of collapse and you don't want to admit it-How many cups of coffee have you had today? In the last hour?"

"Shut up, Morgana..."

Merlin knocked and was granted access into the room with a sunny, dimple laden smile and offered up a form, "A deliver for Morgana Le Fey."

Morgana looked at him as if he'd materialized out of thin air... like an angel.

"I'm... Morgana Le Fey... you're from Gaius's clinic?"

Arthur's ears perked up, "How is old Gaius?"

"The same as ever," Merlin replied handing over the small case of bottles to her and exchanging it for the empty vials. "Healthy, snarky, and demanding of his workers."

"You're Merlin Ambrosius aren't you?" Morgana asked. He froze for a moment and looked at her oddly.

"How... do you know my name?"

She waved the business section of the paper and he glowered a bit. Of course, with enough gossip anything would end up in the paper and he was sure that his departure had aroused enough interest to be paper worthy. After such a long stint at Essetir Inc, and building up quite a reputation for himself, he wasn't surprised at all.

"You're working for Gaius now?" Morgana asked.

"Gaius is a close friend of the family, I come up to help on the weekends when I can...For now, I'm... basking in unemployment..."

"Basking in unemployment?"Arthur asked skeptically. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It's a new experience," Merlin said simply, regarding the man across the table. "I've never been unemployed before... then again I suppose I'm not technically unemployed as I work for Gaius when he needs me."

Morgana smiled, "Are you interested in another job? Possibly a full-time one?"

Arthur's face immediately went sour and he knew where she was going with this, "I absolutely-"

"Why are you asking... if you don't mind...?"

"Because my at once intelligent and scatter brained brother Arthur is in need of a personal assistant/ secretary that has experience in a pseudo-Vice president position that is actually diplomatic and won't be afraid to correct him...And I think you're a good fit."

Merlin gaped, and glanced at Arthur who looked as if he was seething.

"Is this... normal?"

"No," Morgana said. "If you'd like to formally interview for the position, I don't have a problem with it. The original plan was to interview with me, then have a day actually working for Arthur before coming on officially. Would you be up to that?"

Merlin thought about it for a moment, while he didn't really like the idea of going back to work for a business man that he had no experience with, he missed his job and he was good at it. He consented to meeting her for coffee/tea on Sunday afternoon after he got off from Gaius's prep room. She smiled, shook his hand and he was off to make the rest of his deliveries around the city. Arthur seethed.

"I don't need a personal assistant! What good will he be to me? He's half my size!"

"He's taller than you, he's stronger than you think, and he's good at his job. You met Wulfhere, you should know how he was and if Merlin could keep his position for six years after the string of secretaries that were fired and tossed aside, I think he's more than capable of helping you."

Arthur huffed, not willing to concede the point, but didn't protest any longer and they went on with lunch. He'd visited his mother and talked to her. He'd gotten through some P.R. reports before heading to bed that night and was distinctly pleased that there was nothing but curiosity and sayings of "he's so attractive".

When Sunday passed and Monday followed, Arthur walked into his office, after spending his night at home for the first time in weeks. He was wearing a fresh suit, with a good night's sleep, he'd actually combed and washed his hair thoroughly. He'd almost forgotten that it was actually honey blonde rather than the dull light brown it had been for a while. He felt refreshed and strutted into the office with a grin, until he reached his office door and realized that there would be a mess of piles, pages, and insanity waiting for him. He sighed and walked in and was sure that he wasn't in the right office. After a check for the C.E.O. on the door, he stepped into the oddly clean space. Where there had been chaos, there was nothing but organization. Now calm where there had been extreme distress. He sat behind his desk and the billion sticky notes and memos that he'd thought he'd lost and rewritten were replaced with a different set of handwritting tacked to the pile of once disorganized notes and memos.

- Done

There were three stacks to his left now, separate and ordered by date and importance in the same manner that he would have, had he known where they were. His file cabinets were organized and there were actually working pens in his drawers, a fresh stock of sticky notes, paperclips, his stapler was filled... He half expected a mystical fairy to pop up and tell him that she would be working for him now.

This... is kind of awesome...

It wasn't until he was marveling at the organization of papers by time slot, meetings in folder, portfolios prepared with flash drives marked for certain things that Merlin appeared in a suit that didn't hide the fact that he was of a lithe frame. The suit was back, but the shirt beneath it was a vibrant blue with a high red collar that made him think that the other was wearing a neckerchief of a vibrant red. He smiled in greeting carrying a cup of milky Boba tea and a portfolio under his arm. It was odd, where did he get Boba tea this early in the morning in London? What kind of businessman drank Boba tea and let his boss see that?

"Good morning," he said and Arthur gawked at him.

"You... how did you...?"

"Despite the appearance of chaos, it wasn't that bad. Your papers were organized in someways. It didn't take long..."

"But the presentation, the proposals... everything..."

"Yes?"

"You... they're finished...how..."

"I do my homework," he said. "The correspondent at Mercia and I know each other fairly well, Mithian and I had classes together at uni so she was happy to fill me in on all of the details of the project. I talked to the rest of the staff as well and they were more than happy to turn over the information to me. It didn't take long to assemble after that."

Arthur gawked at him and frowned at the folder he was dropping onto his desk, sucking up tapioca pearls from the bottom of the cup he was holding with a pleased and thoughtful expression on his face. It was from Morgana, he knew that much and as he opened it, he realized that it was Merlin's extensive work history and resume. The man vanished soon after, chewing on tapioca pearls, heading to his desk just outside in the hall. Sliding into his seat and picking up the phone as it began to rang.

"Hello?"

Arthur knew he'd remembered the name from somewhere. Merlin Emrys Ambrosius had covertly snatched the top spot at university from him and had worked his way through college as he'd done it... He couldn't have imagined the number of sleepless nights they other had to endure in order to pay for university and end up debt free. He took his hat off to the man in respect but that didn't mean he had to like the neatly ordered stacks of paper and their card labels "Today" "Tomorrow" "Day After". In truth, he liked it a lot and it didn't take long (less than a week) to realize that he was sleeping a lot easier knowing the Merlin was just outside, prepared for practically everything, and on his side.

He shook his head at Cenred's foolish decision to let the young man go, he was brilliant.

It was three days before Merlin officially signed on as a part of Camelot, Inc. Hunith didn't take the news as well as he'd hoped (claiming that it was too soon to be heading back to that world and that she would miss him), but he didn't let that deter him. He'd moved into a small flat near the building and continued as he had since his time at Essetir: saving money for his mother's retirement and eventually his own. She told him that he better take care of himself and come home often otherwise she'd worry. He agreed of course, she'd kissed his cheek and pouted until he promised to call home often. While he understood the number of things that Hunith had to worry about when it came to Merlin, he still held that Ealdor was less than an hour's drive away from London without traffic. He wasn't as far away as Hunith acted most days, but he wouldn't tell his mother that. He knew she was just concerned for his well-being and hoped that he wouldn't give her anything to worry about.

And that Gaius wouldn't be a snitch otherwise...