Like every small town, King's Hollow, Hampshire, was populated largely by discontented teenagers. Every day, in the classrooms and corridors of St. Augustine's Secondary School, they talked of running away.

"When I leave for uni—"

"When I finally get out of this place—"

"—a flat in London—"

"—a house in Bristol—"

"—somewhere abroad, maybe."

"—anywhere but here."

The details were ever-changing, but the bottom line was always the same. It was the one thing they all had in common, from the mightiest footballer to the lowliest nerd. They were all bored out of their skulls.

Their parents shook their heads and smiled knowingly. "We said the same thing at their age," they reminded one another. "Then we went out into the world and realized how cruel it could be. When they know more, they won't be so eager to leave."

They didn't know how right they were.

O0O0O

"Bloody hell, Morgana, you look awful!"

Morgana glowered at Arthur over the rim of her coffee cup.

"As always, dear brother, you are the soul of tact."

She wasn't really offended. After all, he was right: she did look awful. All the makeup in the world couldn't hide the shadows under her eyes, and she hadn't even attempted to tame her hair. She was too tired to care about her reputation as the most put-together girl at St. Augustine's this morning.

Arthur plopped down next to her at the kitchen table. "The nightmares again?"

She nodded.

"Maybe you need sleeping pills or something."

"Sleeping pills don't prevent nightmares." The words came out harsher than she had intended.

"There's no need to get snippy," said Arthur. "I'm only trying to help."

Morgana sighed. "I know. Sorry."

Though she was a year older than him, Arthur had always been protective of Morgana. Many a lad had gone home with a bloody nose after making her cry. She supposed it was frustrating for him, seeing her so miserable over something he couldn't punch into submission.

"Do you remember what this one was about?" he asked.

"Flashes of it." Morgana tried to forget her nightmares as quickly as possible, but certain images always stuck in her mind, like a splinter buried just below the skin. "There was fire, and then I was walking down a long corridor, and for some reason, I was holding a—"

Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the stairs. Morgana shut her mouth. She had avoided mentioning her nightmares in front of her father ever since she realized how much they worried him. Uther Pendragon, mayor of King's Hollow, had enough to worry about.

"Morning, Dad," Arthur said when Uther entered the kitchen. "Off to do important, mayoral things already?"

Uther barely glanced up from his Blackberry. "I just got a call from your uncle." Agravaine, Arthur and Morgana's uncle, was the town's chief constable. "Another young woman has gone missing."

Morgana's own problems were instantly thrust out of her mind.

"Who?" she asked.

"Olivia Weston," said Uther. "Do you know her?"

Morgana shook her head. The name didn't ring a bell, though in a town as small as King's Hollow, it was almost certain they had crossed paths at some point.

"That's the second missing person this month, isn't it?" she said. "Do you think there's a connection?"

"There could be." Uther looked nearly as tired as she felt. "Both women were last seen on Asher Road, just outside of town."

Morgana shuddered. She took that very road every time she drove up to London for a day of shopping.

"Is there anything we can do?" Arthur asked.

"Stay away from Asher Road," Uther said grimly.

Arthur scoffed at this. "I'm not going to go missing. I don't exactly fit the profile, do I?"

"No, but your sister does." Uther frowned as he looked at Morgana properly for the first time. "Darling, are you all right? You look ill."

Morgana smiled. No matter how much his job demanded of him, her father always dropped everything when she needed him.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Just tired."

"You're not having nightmares again, are you?" Uther looked more alarmed than he had about the missing women.

"Yes, but it's no big deal. Really."

"I'm making you an appointment with Dr. Bellamy," said Uther, tapping away at his Blackberry.

Morgana started to protest, but he was already out the door.

"I'm great, Dad," Arthur said to the empty space where their father had been standing a moment before. "Thanks for asking."

Morgana ruffled his hair. "Don't feel bad. He only noticed me because I look like hell."

"I know." Arthur sighed. "I suppose that's the price I pay for being the pretty one."

O0O0O

"Bloody hell, Gwen, you look gorgeous!"

It was lucky no one else was within earshot. Half the town assumed Merlin was in love with Gwen, and most of the other half thought he was gay. He wasn't helping himself in either case with that outburst.

"Oh, go on!" Gwen said with a wave of her hand. But the twinkle in her eye said she knew how good she looked. She was wearing a short, pink dress that wouldn't have looked out of place on the cover of a fashion magazine. A matching headband kept her dark curls out of her face, which was made up more carefully than usual. Even Morgana Pendragon would approve.

"So what's the occasion?" Merlin asked as they began the walk to school. Gwen wasn't the type to get dressed up for no particular reason.

"It's the twenty-second of April," she said, as if that explained everything. And, in fact, it did jog Merlin's memory.

"Of course," he groaned. "Your anniversary. Has it really been one year?"

He could remember it as clearly as yesterday: Lancelot blushing and stammering as he asked Gwen out to dinner; Gwen calm and collected as she accepted the offer, then practically hysterical once Lance was out of earshot; Gwaine teasing them both mercilessly. And yet, at the same time, it felt like the pair had been together forever. It was hard to imagine a Gwen who wasn't in love with Lance, or a Lance who wasn't in love with Gwen.

"How could I have forgotten the day my best friend abandoned me in Singles Land?" said Merlin.

"Oh, please!" Gwen laughed. "You could join me in Coupledom any time you wanted."

Merlin rolled his eyes. It was sort of true; he wasn't oblivious to the way certain girls looked at him. But after a year of watching Gwen and Lance, Merlin thought he had a good idea what love looked like, and he knew he'd never experienced anything close to it. Until he did, dating seemed pointless. He'd resigned himself to staying single for as long as he stayed in King's Hollow.

"At least Gwaine hasn't forsaken me," he said. "Where is he, anyway?" Gwaine was usually waiting on Gwen's front porch when Merlin got there in the morning. The three of them had been walking to class together since primary school.

"Cutting class again, I expect," said Gwen, frowning. "We really need to have a talk with that boy."

"We're not his parents, Gwen."

"We might as well be."

It was true. Gwaine's father was long dead, and his grief-stricken mother had become a recluse, leaving her son to wander around King's Hollow like a Dickensian street urchin. Every so often, a teacher or a friend's parent would take an interest in Gwaine's wellbeing, but for the most part, it was up to Merlin and Gwen to keep him in line.

Gwen pulled out her mobile, but Merlin gently took it away from her.

"Let's not worry about Gwaine today," he said. "This is your day. Let's just go to school so that you and Lance can make goo-goo eyes at each other, and I can make gagging noises behind your back."

Gwen chuckled. "Merlin, you are wise beyond your years."

O0O0O

It was the kind of day people write poetry about: sun shining, roses blooming, rabbits frolicking. Spring had finally come to King's Hollow. It was a day made for football and swimming and driving with the top down, but Arthur was doing none of those things, because he was stuck in school. Sometimes, life just wasn't fair.

His only consolation was being allowed to eat lunch in the school courtyard. When the twelve o'clock bell finally rang, he didn't even stop to look for his friends. They would know where to find him. Sure enough, Leon, Percival, and Lancelot were waiting for him by the front entrance.

"I think I'm going to sit with Gwen today," said Lance, scanning the crowd.

"Ditching us again?" Percival shook his head. "That's not on. Bros before hos, man!"

"Don't call my girlfriend a ho!"

"It's just an expression! Don't get your knickers in a twist!"

They went through this every day at lunchtime. Sometimes Lance sat with them, but more often, he went off with his girlfriend, Guinevere, and her weird friends. The others, only half-joking, insisted that this was a deep betrayal. Arthur played along, but he didn't really blame Lance. If someone looked at him the way Guinevere looked at Lance, he'd probably forget everyone else, too.

"Whatever," he said as Lance walked off. "Let's claim a table before all the good ones are taken."

Lunch wasn't even halfway over before Arthur started getting restless. Sitting in the courtyard was better than sitting in a classroom, but it was still just sitting.

"Here's an idea," said Percival. He opened his rucksack and pulled out a football. "Let's get some practice in before the bell."

Arthur declared this to be the best idea he'd heard all day. It was the perfect excuse to burn off some energy without getting themselves into trouble. Plus, it allowed Arthur to do what he did best: show off.

"I bet I can get the ball past that tree." He pointed to an oak on the edge of the school grounds.

"I've got a tenner says you can't," Percival replied. That was all the encouragement Arthur needed.

"Heads up!"

The ball soared through the air, straight towards the oak. Arthur was already planning what to do with Percival's tenner when Tyr Seward stood up at exactly the wrong moment. The ball hit him square in the back of his head and bounced sideways, landing in Lucy Miller's spaghetti.

Arthur swore loudly. He didn't need the ten pounds, of course, but he hated losing anything.

"Sorry!" Tyr called. He was wincing, but from embarrassment rather than pain; the blow hardly seemed to have hurt him at all.

"Oh, don't apologize!" Arthur called back. "It was my fault. After all, I shouted, 'Heads up!' Then you literally put your head up. Really, I should have seen that coming."

Tyr blushed as quite a few onlookers snickered.

Arthur picked up the football and held it out in front of him. Marinara sauce dripped onto the grass.

"You've ruined Lucy's lunch as well."

"It's all right!" said Lucy, but Arthur ignored her.

"I think you should give her your lunch, Seward. After all, you can afford to go without for once." He looked pointedly at Tyr's considerable belly.

"That's enough, Pendragon."

Arthur whipped his head around. Merlin Ealdor, one of Guinevere's weird friends, had followed him across the courtyard.

"Excuse me?"

Arthur only knew Merlin in a vague way. Despite the overlap in their social circles, he couldn't remember ever speaking to him outside of class. Certainly, Arthur had never done anything that explained why Merlin was looking at him now with such contempt.

"Leave Tyr alone," said Merlin. "It's not his fault you decided this was a good time and place to kick a football around."

"This doesn't concern you, Ealdor."

"And what Tyr eats doesn't concern you. Or is only the great Arthur Pendragon allowed to order people around?"

Arthur was at a loss for words. No one had ever talked to him like this.

"You have a problem with the way I treat people?" he asked finally.

"Not very fast on the uptake, are you?"

Everyone was staring now. Arthur groaned internally. In a town as small as King's Hollow, gossip spread quickly and died down slowly. He needed to do something, before they all went home and told their families how this dorky know-it-all made a fool out of him.

Slowly, he stepped forward, until he and Merlin were almost nose-to-nose.

"You have guts, Ealdor," he said quietly. "I'll give you that."

"You have a bit of a gut yourself," said Merlin. "Bit hypocritical, really, making fun of Tyr's weight."

That's when things got a bit out of hand.

O0O0O

Geoffrey Monmouth had been headmaster at St. Augustine's for as long as anyone could remember. Why he had chosen such a profession, Merlin couldn't imagine, because he clearly hated dealing with students. Merlin could count the number of times he'd seen the man leave his office on one hand. Before today, he'd never actually spoken to him.

He wished more than anything that that was still the case.

"Absolutely outrageous!" This seemed to be Monmouth's favorite phrase. "Mr. Ealdor, you're a prefect! And Mr. Pendragon, your father is the mayor!"

"You don't say," Arthur muttered. Fortunately, Monmouth didn't seem to hear him.

"You boys are leaders!" he continued. "You should be setting an example!"

"I was trying to set an example, sir," Merlin said, doing his best to stay calm. "Arthur was bullying Tyr Seward. All I did was stand up to him."

"I wasn't bullying anyone!" said Arthur. "I was just joking around!"

"You humiliated him in front of half the school, then you tried to steal his lunch!"

"That is such an exaggeration!"

"Enough!" Monmouth slammed his fist on the desk. "I don't care what he did to provoke you, Mr. Ealdor. St. Augustine's has a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to physical violence. I'm afraid I'm going to have to suspend you both for a fortnight."

Suspension. Merlin's stomach clenched. He hadn't realized it was that serious. What would Gaius say? And—oh, God—how would he get into a decent university with that on his record?

He knew he'd acted like a fool, but he couldn't help it. For years, he'd watched Arthur Pendragon walk around King's Hollow like he owned the place, always getting his way, never facing real consequences for anything. When he had a go at poor, dopey Tyr Seward, Merlin had finally snapped.

"Sir, I'm captain of the football team!" said Arthur. "I can't miss two weeks of practice!"

"Really, Arthur," said a new voice. "Is that your top priority?"

Uther Pendragon was standing in the doorway.

"Lord Mayor!" Monmouth jumped to his feet. "I hate to see you under these circumstances, but—"

"I must apologize for my son, headmaster," Uther cut in. "I was appalled to receive your call. However, I think, given the circumstances, suspension is a bit much, isn't it?"

Monmouth shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, the boys were fist-fighting on school grounds during school hours. We take that very seriously."

"As do I," said Uther. "But, as you yourself said, both Arthur and Mr. Ealdor have been model students up till this point. Surely, that counts for something."

Actually, Monmouth had said that Merlin was a model student. Arthur just had a powerful father. But Merlin didn't point this out, as it looked like Uther's clout might help them both now.

"Of course," said Monmouth. "Yes, a very good point, Lord Mayor. But, er, nevertheless…What would you have me do?" There was a hint of pleading in his voice.

"I think a lighter—but still severe—sentence is in order," said Uther. "Detention, perhaps? Or better yet, community service. I seem to remember you lamenting the state of the school library at the last council meeting. Perhaps the boys could reorganize it?"

"An excellent idea, Lord Mayor!" said Monmouth, visibly relieved. He turned back to Arthur and Merlin.

"Starting tomorrow, you boys will report to the library immediately after class every day. You will stay for…oh, let's say two hours every day, until the task is complete. I imagine it will take you at least a fortnight."

Two weeks working in close proximity with Arthur Pendragon. It sounded like torture, but Merlin was too relieved at avoiding a giant black mark on his permanent record to care.

"Yes, headmaster!" he said. "Thank you, sir."

He tried to tell Uther Pendragon "thank you" with his eyes, but the mayor seemed to be locked in a staring contest with his son.

"If that's all, headmaster, then perhaps the boys should return to class now," he said.

"Of course. Good day, Lord Mayor."

Uther strode out of the office without so much as a goodbye to his son. Arthur looked miserable. It was almost enough to make Merlin feel bad for him. Almost.

O0O0O

Arthur decided it would be best to avoid his father until he'd had time to cool off. He planned the rest of his day with this in mind, but it was all for naught: Uther was waiting for him when he got home from school.

"Brawling in the school courtyard! I never would have expected this from you, Arthur."

"Merlin started it," Arthur said sullenly.

"The headmaster said you tried to stick the boy's head in a toilet."

"Only after he called me fat."

Uther looked at his son in disbelief. "He called you fat? Are you a twelve-year-old girl?"

Arthur braced himself for a round of shouting. But when his father spoke again, his voice was level. In fact, he sounded more tired than angry.

"Arthur, I don't enjoy yelling at you," he said. "I try to be understanding. But if you're going to take advantage of my leniency…"

For the first time, Arthur felt a twinge of genuine guilt. It was true. People assumed that Uther was a strict disciplinarian, but if anything, he overcompensated for his natural sternness by being too indulgent. When Arthur stayed out all night or Morgana skipped class to go to a rally in London, Uther took a deep breath, counted to ten, and looked the other way. Arthur must have really crossed a line this time.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he said. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not. And I don't want to hear that you've been shirking detention, either."

Arthur had nearly forgotten about the headmaster's sentence. At the thought of the coming days cooped up in the library with Merlin, he groaned loudly.

"Try to make the best of it," said Uther. "Merlin is a good lad, from what I've heard. You might even come out of this friends."

And pigs might fly, thought Arthur.

O0O0O

"You said what?"

Gwaine fell back onto the grass, laughing.

"Oh God, why did I choose today to cut class? I'll never forgive myself for missing the look on Pendragon's face."

They were in the clearing in the woods behind Merlin's house. Gwen and Merlin had gone there after class, knowing it was Gwaine's favorite hangout. Sure enough, they had found him there, basking in the sunlight like a lizard, completely unaware of the day's drama.

"It's not funny, Gwaine!" Gwen said, scowling. "Merlin could have been expelled."

"But I wasn't," said Merlin. "And it is kind of funny."

Gwen shook her head. Secretly, she was a little proud of Merlin for standing up to Arthur when no one else would. But any hint of approval on her part would encourage him to do it again, and he might not get off so easily a second time. Besides, someone had to counterbalance Gwaine's influence.

"Mind you, he's going to suffer enough as it is. Two weeks alone with Arthur Pendragon?" Gwaine shuddered. "I don't envy you, mate."

"Maybe it won't be so bad," said Gwen. "Lance says Arthur's a decent bloke once you get to know him."

"Yeah, maybe," said Merlin, but he didn't look convinced.

"Promise me you'll comment on his weight every day," said Gwaine. Merlin laughed.

Sighing, Gwen flopped onto her back in the grass. "What am I going to do with you two?"

Merlin and Gwaine lay down on either side of her. For a long time, no one spoke. They were close enough that silence didn't have to be awkward; it was one of the things Gwen loved most about their friendship. She sighed again, but this time with contentment. Only the promise of an evening in the city with Lance could lure her away from this, and he wouldn't be picking her up for another hour.

Out of the blue, Merlin asked, "Do you ever get the feeling there's something wrong with the world?"

Gwen furrowed her brow. "I would say there's a lot wrong with the world," she said. "War, poverty, racism…The Only Way Is Essex…"

Merlin snorted. "No, I don't mean morally wrong," he said. "I mean, do you ever feel like things are somehow, I don't know, mixed up? Like you were born in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Gwen looked over at her friend sadly. Her father had always called Merlin "an odd duck," but Gwen saw him more as a swan who'd somehow ended up in a duck pond. Brilliant, barmy Merlin, who read Shakespeare and Stephen Hawking with equal ease, but didn't know better than to pick a fight with the mayor's son, would have been happier almost anywhere other than King's Hollow. Of course he felt like the world was mixed up.

Gwaine was a different sort. Handsome, funny, and full of bravado, Gwaine should have fit right in with Arthur Pendragon and his cronies. He was even good at football. But, for some reason, he chose to hang out with Merlin and Gwen instead.

And then there was her: Guinevere Smith, the most ordinary girl in King's Hollow. How had she ended up here, with these two extraordinary boys?

"I've always thought I should have been born in medieval Norway," Gwaine said. "I would have made an excellent Viking."

"Why?" asked Merlin. "Because you smell like one?"

Gwaine reached over Gwen to swat at him. Merlin swatted back. Gwen rolled away just in time to avoid getting caught in the middle of a full-on slap fight.

"I really need to spend more time around girls," she said. But they all knew she didn't mean it.