The Warlock and the Dragonlord

Merlin wrapped his hands around the hot chocolate, sipping it tentatively as the warmth sunk through his gloves. He was torn between drinking it all now, before it had the chance to cool down, and waiting so his hands had more time to keep warm.

He was grateful that Gaius' clinic had a coffee and hot water machine, and that most of the staff knew him well enough to let him get some hot chocolate when they saw him. He eyed the buildings and people, looking far above him at the towering hotels and offices, and dodging people as they went about their business, all ignoring the kid on the street that nearly hugged the walls. He wondered at times if people could even see him or if his magic made him invisible.

And then the occasional person would nearly trip over him, some would curse at him, some shoving him out of the way. Merlin just smiled wide at them, sometimes apologetic, anything that he knew would calm most of the people down. He must have a forgivable face when he smiled because almost everyone would backtrack, give a little smile, and tell him to try to be more careful next time.

Some would ask where his parents were. Merlin would always laugh, tell them them his uncle was working, then quickly leave before his smile could break into tears because he didn't have parents, but his uncle was close enough. At least he had him.

But today, the sun was shining instead of the dull overcast it had been recently. The weather, however, was still chilly being out in it all day, especially since, as everyone always told him, he had absolutely no meat on his bones.

The thing was, they had always been on the poor side, but after losing their house and Merlin's mom, Gaius and Merlin were absolutely broke. For about a year they had lived fully on the streets and struggled to even get food. Now that Gaius has had a steady job at the clinic, they had gotten into a small flat, but the desolate place was nearly as bad as some alleyways they'd stayed in, so Merlin used every excuse to be out of it.

Gaius didn't like it when he wandered the city, but since they couldn't afford him being watched all the time, to go to school, or be in the office with him the whole day, he had to relent, understanding Merlin's logic that the flat wasn't any safer than wandering around would be. At least there were witnesses if something happened on the street. The flat, which had been broken into three times — though they hadn't much in the way of possessions for them to steal — was no safer.

So instead Merlin had promised to keep to the streets and shops where there were plenty of people, and he went on his way, a smile lighting his face, even with his holey shoes and cold air biting his cheeks.

He took another sip of his drink, pulling his arms closer to his body. He was grateful for his warm winter clothes at least.

"His mother probably wouldn't want that anyway…" He heard someone passing say into her phone. Then two men walking together passed the other way, their words about a lady they'd seen last night crude. Merlin wished he could wash his ears with soap — his mom had threatened to wash his mouth with soap a few times in the past, and he'd never said anything near as bad as what he hears half the time in the city.

He closed his eyes as he savored another sip of his chocolate, almost humming in pleasure.

Right before he felt a jarring hit, and suddenly he was on his side, his hot chocolate all over the ground and his hands. He squeaked; more because of surprise than pain, though the heat from the drink was on the verge of burning.

"Watch where you're going, dimwit," a young voice snapped at him.

Merlin looked over quickly, moving to sit up as his eyebrows furrowed. He smoothed them out quickly, trying for an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," he apologized to the other man — boy — quickly; taking in his bright blue eyes, blond hair, and the bag of books he was swinging back over his shoulder as he stood up.

"Idiot. Young boy like you shouldn't even be out here without a parent. Where's your mom anyway?"

The rude words made tears prick in Merlin's eyes. It wasn't fair! He'd be with his mom, or his father, if he could. The other kid wasn't even that older than him, Merlin bet, but Merlin himself had always looked younger than his age. He might be fairly tall, but he was too skinny for his height. Gave him a young look.

"Not like I was the only one not paying attention, prat," Merlin snapped back, climbing to his feet and curling his fists. "Otherwise we wouldn't have collided."

The boys face colored, and Merlin figured it was time to cut his losses now. They were already starting to cause a scene.

"Next time, maybe try apologizing for knocking someone on their butt," Merlin bit out, quickly turning away, cup clenched in his hand as he all but ran from the other boy.

"Hey!" He heard a shout from behind, but surprisingly no following footsteps. As he turned into an alley — sorry, Gaius, obviously this wasn't a busy road — then made the next few turns before he came out near buildings far enough away, he forced himself to calm down, taking some deep breaths. He felt guilty at the words he'd snapped. The boy hadn't been kind, but his mom had always tried to teach him to always use words in kindness.

Funny then, how it was mention of his mother that got him riled up.

He wiped his cheek as a preventative of tears, stubborn enough not to cry, then tossed the now empty cup into the garbage, silently cursing the other boy. There went his hot drink.

He shook his head, taking a few deep calming breaths, then forcing a smile as he started to walk. He was not going to let some kid ruin this beautiful day. It was going to start getting colder soon, so he needed to enjoy the sun while it lasted. Soon the cold would overpower any desire to want to be outside.

Arthur felt like a right prick, the kid's words echoing in his brain. He'd been in a hurry, and honestly hadn't seen the kid as he managed to run around other people, just to crash into a small boy. He'd snapped, feeling pain as he'd landed on his hand, his wrist twisting slightly. His bag luckily hadn't spilled anything or broken in the fall, so that was a relief.

But honestly the collision had been Arthur's fault. He shouldn't have been such a… well, a prat. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked. He'd debated going after the kid, but there was really no point in doing so. He had left quickly, and ran fast.

Besides, his father was expecting him.

Arthur kept his pace slower this time, though he didn't want to be even more late, he figured it would be better to avoid running into anyone else. He shook out his wrist, relieved that the pain was already receding. He didn't have time for injuries. His right hand being injured would have made it difficult to do his homework, and he couldn't get behind with that. It also would've made his rugby a lot more annoying for sure. He would've had to make sure to keep it protected, and in that game, it was pretty impossible.

He got to his dads building and entered the lobby. It was easy to get to his fathers office, as the receptionist knew that he was coming, and just waved him through. No one said hi to Arthur. Since he was just a kid in a corporate world they didn't really care.

His father was still on the phone when he arrived, so he sat on the furthest couch in the office and pulled out a book to study while he waited for Uther to finish.

It was probably a good twenty minutes before he finally said his goodbyes, unsurprisingly, and Uther sighed as he hung up. Arthur glanced from under his eyelashes, checking to see if his father was ready for him or not, but when he determined that the man was still angry over the call and not likely to talk yet, he returned to his book. His father wouldn't want to be caught being watched at the moment.

"Arthur." At last. Arthur thought, closing the book and looking up.

"Father."

"Your teacher called today." Arthur automatically tensed, awaiting words not in his favor, even while wishing it would be good news. Mrs. Livingston liked Arthur, so he knew that she wouldn't have any negative things to say. But his father could twist what was meant to be positive and find the negative. "She said your class took a test today. Said you got an 89."

Arthur swallowed. "Yes, father. It was a pop quiz. We hadn't had time to fully study, nor have we covered everything in class yet, it was more to test our knowledge and see what else we need to learn for the year." And his teacher had probably told Uther that

Arthur had been the top in the class, by far, with the test. Everyone else had got a 75 or lower.

"Hm. You need to try harder. Only an 89. You could do better."

His throat was hurting, but he swallowed it down. "Yes, father, I know. I am studying the points I missed."

Uther hit the desk, though not loudly, it was more like a tap, but it still startled Arthur a bit. "Yes, you'll have to look over the homework again. Maybe we can have Miss Nancy come over to help you study. She can make sure you're understanding it."

He stifled a groan. He could understand it just fine, it was just hard to remember everything. Some of the stuff they hadn't even been over yet, and Arthur had only known the answers to some of the questions because he'd read the textbook ahead of time. He always took classes and read a lot during the summer, so Arthur was already two years ahead in most of his subjects.

"Yes, father." Is all he said, however. Arguing or justifying with his father was pointless. "Miss Nancy always can help." Not entirely a lie, but the only problem is that she explains too many things that Arthur already understood, rather than the things he actually needed help with. At least she was kind though.

Uther nodded, returning to the work on his desk, Arthur easily dismissed. Arthur put his book back into his backpack and slipped silently out of the room as he shouldered it.

Father-son bonding time, now over, Arthur thought sarcastically. Each time he had time with his father, he found himself more and more let down.

As he walked down the street to home, he couldn't help but think back on the kid; the tears in his eyes, the ones he had furiously blinked back, must have felt a lot like the ones that Arthur refused to let past the hard rock in his throat.

He forced it back down, into that same numbness he'd had for years now. It would do him no good. He just had to keep doing better. That should get him a good scholarship down the road, and then he'd be set to help his father in his company.

Chipper little thoughts, aren't they? he mused, shaking his head. But truly, nothing in his life excited him anymore. Not since he hadn't received his own little letter or magic. He loved his sister, but she was gone most of the year, and he couldn't talk to her about what was going on. There was no way he could put that burden on her, seeing how happy she was, and that she thought he was doing just fine at home. It was better that way.

But he still missed her. They still sent letters. This year was better than the last few. Morgana hadn't gone into details, but she told him how a dark wizard had tried to take over the school and wizarding world. There was a huge fight, and though Morgana didn't say, Arthur was sure she was more in the middle of it than she tried to make it seem. She had told him about how some of the disasters he'd seen in the news around the world at the time, was actually caused by the followers. She'd assured him that he wouldn't have wanted to be there for that because it had been a scary time for everyone, and no one was allowed back home.

But that's where she was wrong. He would have much preferred being at her side, even to help fight — even if he would have been crap at it — than he would staying at a quiet house by himself, while his father worked all hours a day and half the nights.

He'd suspected Uther worked some of the nights, and might be staying the night with his receptionist the other nights. Nonetheless, Arthur was home alone, and it was lonely. But even when Uther was home… it was just as lonely. His father never had anything to say to him unless it was about improving his grades or sport, and Arthur had learned to watch what he said to his father, because the man simply didn't care.

So no, he really didn't think he would've minded being in a battle. At least he wouldn't have been standing alone there.

He fingered his arm, small scabs healing under the fabric of his upper forearm, standing out.

Yes, maybe someone at Hogwarts would have noticed him.