A ficlet I wrote in one sitting to see if I could 😅
TW: Accidental voyeurism, but barely anything is seen. It’s all fluff. First kiss. Merthur.
The search for a singular book should not be as arduous a journey as the trek to Moria, Daegal thought to himself.
The maze of his university’s library was a magical place, sure, but in the sense that only witchcraft could cause every single person to find themselves lost in it, at least once. Remembering the time he’d found himself in the psychology section instead of the botany section, Daegal had asked one of the librarians for the specific location of his book. The librarian had been a young man but he’d sighed like an ancient one when he scrawled across the scrap of paper and slid it across the desk to Daegal. Feeling awkward, he’d scurried off and moments later he found himself lost.
What an odd phrase, Daegal thought idly. To find himself lost. But he was. Very very very lost.
Daegal could hear but it was so indistinct it only confused him further. Pages rustled, a pencil scratched paper, keyboards clacked, a person coughed, a slight whisper.
The shelves were made of oak and just as tall as an oak, it seemed. They towered over Daegal and their canopy shaded him from the fluorescent lights. They wore signs; the framed paper next to him read 130 PARAPSYCHOLOGY AND OCCULTISM. Psychology was on the other end of the library from where he started, and he’d started at 400! He had been trying to find 500! How on earth had he ended up here again?
He sighed long and deep, his head so slumped forward he looked like a cane made of jelly. Well, this was the 100 section - in terms of the DDC anyway - so it was only logical that he’d just follow the shelves numerically until he reached 580, right? Mind made up, Daegal walked back the way he had come.
Ten minutes later, Daegal had bravely discovered the Literature section (Class 800) and was seconds from shouting. This being the quiet section of the library was the point; it would summon a librarian in moments who’d carry him off to safety kick him out instantly. Daegal, unfortunately, was a polite and responsible young lad and kept his mouth shut.
It was good he did because he heard indistinct quiet voices, much closer than any he’d heard in a while. Perhaps only an aisle or two away, even. This was good! If he found who belonged to the voices, they could hopefully direct him back to civilisation! (And not get him further lost).
Daegal crossed an aisle and then came upon a little nook. It was a small, square space bordered by two sets of shelves and two walls that joined into a corner. This must be one of the back walls of the library, Daegal surmised and, by the looks of the desks and armchairs, a desirable and cosy little place to read, too. If one could find their way out again, that is.
As he came upon the threshold of this small nook (the bordering shelves on either side of him), the voices - though still hushed - grew louder by proximity. It sounded like two people, unless someone wasn’t speaking of course. He looked about and there, to the left, was the back of a narrow head covered in dark, cropped hair and framed by overly large ears— Was that Professor Pryce? The head turned towards Daegal ever so slightly and— yes! It was! Red scarf and all!
Professor Merlin Pryce was his teacher for the history of plants in medicine this semester. It was Daegal’s favourite class, so far. Professor Pryce was a favourite of students, especially since he did all he could to make the subject interesting.
“I near developed atrophy when I took this class myself, it was so droll,” he’d told them. His guest lecturer, Dr Gaius Wynne-Jones, had smacked him round the head for that. Daegal had been shocked until the student beside him had informed him they were related or something.
Back in the library, Daegal opened his mouth to greet his professor like a shipwrecked man that had finally spotted a boat—
A second voice spoke, it’s owner just out of view, and Daegal suddenly remembered Professor Pryce wasn’t alone. Unable to escape his curse of politeness, Daegal peeked around the shelf he stood next to. It could be nothing, just idle conversation, but he didn’t want to interrupt or impose. Yes, this was technically public, but this was also a very quiet, almost private corner of the library.
The owner of the second voice turned out to be a second man, perhaps the same age as Professor Pryce. He had blond hair that swept over his forehead and wore something Daegal had heard people refer to as ‘business casual’. Ironed, black trousers, nice shoes and a peacoat, left unbuttoned over a dress shirt. He stood rather close to Professor Pryce and both of them seemed comfortable enough with it that Daegal assumed they must know each other either very well, for a very long time, or both. Daegal had never seen him around so it was unlikely he was a professor here, especially if he knew Professor Pryce. Professor Smith was always waiting outside his classroom to have lunch with Professor Pryce.
Professor Pryce and his friend appeared to be in deep conversation, based on how soft spoken they remained, their closeness and the— the way they were looking at one another? Daegal didn’t want to presume. It was hard not to though, when the blond man seemed to hesitate for a moment and then, as if he got a burst of courage, took Professor Pryce’s hand in his own. Then, as if naturally and without much thought, he cradled it, ‘til the back of Professor Pryce’s hand was against his heart.
“Merlin,” he murmured, louder than he had been since, as if it had been punched out of him. “You must know I…”
His voice faded away again.
Professor Pryce scrunched his brows at their intertwined hands, as if confused, and then blinked firmly, once, as if he thought he was seeing things. Nothing changed so he looked up, into his companion’s face. Professor Pryce must see what Daegal could unmistakably see, meters away and half behind a shelf, because he said “Oh, shut up.” and swooped in.
Daegal sprung back. He had been looking to make sure he wouldn’t impose! Not to actually impose! Panicked and praying to the library gods that he wouldn’t be heard and therefore actually interrupt, he scurried away again, as far away as he could.
He hoped he actually found the Psychology section again. Instead, he stumbled across Botany. Go figure.
A/N: I gave Merlin the surname Pryce in this little fic because Pryce means “son of Rhys” (as in, ap Rhys), and ‘rhys’ is in ‘Emrys’ so I thought that was fun and decided to try it out!
