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Merlin made every effort to wake the crown-prince-turned-regent on time today. He brought all of his favorite foods for breakfast and didn’t even steal a single sausage (not that he would have been able to stomach it anyway, as his gut was already quite full of butterflies). Merlin woke the prince as gently as he could (which, honestly, wasn’t that gentle; Arthur slept like the dead, and needed a firm hand if he was ever going to get out of bed).
Still, Merlin tried. He kept the chatter to a minimum despite his nerves; sometimes Arthur liked the background noise but sometimes he just found it annoying, and Merlin didn’t want to take any chances with Arthur’s mood right now. Of course, this was an oddity for him, so Arthur was bound to notice sooner or later.
“You’re awfully quiet today, Merlin,” Arthur said, halfway through his breakfast plate. He glanced down at it suspiciously. “And there’s an awful lot of food on my plate this morning.”
“That is the standard fare for someone of your station, my lord,” Merlin replied, attempting to keep his tone respectful but finding it physically impossible not to put some mocking emphasis on my lord . Eh, maybe it would appeal to Arthur’s nostalgia, reminding him of their first meeting. Then again, they did fight each other that day and the next; nostalgia might not be his friend at the moment after all, as Merlin was doing his utmost to keep all violent thoughts out of Arthur’s head for the time being.
“Yes, I know that, but I didn’t think you did.” He looked back up at Merlin, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t steal anything from my plate today. Are you ill? Or is there something wrong with the food?” Suddenly, Arthur brandished a sausage at him like a sword. “I swear Mer lin, if this sausage is made of rat . . .”
Merlin laughed. “No, sire, I can assure you it’s just a normal sausage. And I’m just not hungry today, I suppose.” He paled and backtracked. “Not that I eat from your plate when I am hungry! Although, you know how clumsy I am, sometimes a sausage or two will fall on the floor while I’m carrying your plate and of course I wouldn’t dare to feed His Royal Prat–” he coughed, remembering himself, “ Highness sausage that has been on the floor. Of course, I wouldn’t want to waste otherwise perfectly good sausage either! It would be disrespectful to the poor pig. But I didn’t drop any sausages today. So now you have all of them. My lord.” So much for not chattering today, but Merlin couldn’t help his nerves. Thankfully, Arthur seemed more amused than anything.
“Of course. As usual, you are more concerned about the pigs we use to feed the kingdom than you are for serving your crown prince. Honestly, Merlin, I should have sacked you years ago.”
“Nah, you like me too much, Sire.”
“Don’t go getting a big head, Merlin, I tolerate you at best. Now if you wouldn’t mind actually doing your job properly for once, what is my schedule for this morning?” Arthur asked, once more focusing on his breakfast.
“Nothing until training after lunch, my lord.”
Arthur frowned. “I thought I had a meeting with the Royal Swordsmith this morning?”
Merlin coughed. “I took the liberty of rescheduling it for tomorrow morning, my lord.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t your liberty to take, Merlin. Do I need to remind you, yet again, that you are a servant? You don’t get to rearrange my schedule without consulting me first.”
“I needed to talk to you this morning, Arthur. It’s important, or else I wouldn’t have done it.” He stood tall but with his arms behind his back, a strange combination of defiance and subservience that only Merlin was capable of pulling off.
“How many times do we have to have this conversation? I decide when we need to talk Merlin,” Arthur said, then sighed. “But I suppose since you have already rescheduled, there is no harm in a quiet morning in.” He pushed his empty plate in front of him and leaned back in his chair. “Just what was so important that it made you act even more impertinent than usual?” he asked.
Merlin froze. He had expected the question, he knew exactly how he ought to answer it, but the words seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat. He coughed, and Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“Any time today, Merlin, I do have work I could be doing,” he said.
Merlin took a deep breath and reminded himself of all the reasons he had made this decision. Uther was too ill to be chopping anyone’s head off. Arthur needed to know Aggravaine was a traitor, but he couldn’t give him proof without exposing his own secret first. Arthur had been regent for almost a year now and he hadn’t done a single thing to perpetuate his father’s hatred against magic users. And of course, after what happened to Lancelot . . .
Merlin was tired. He was tired of needing to hide himself, of living a lie. Lancelot had been his confidant, the only peer he had who knew of his magic and supported him wholeheartedly, and he was gone now. Merlin could practically see his future stretching out ahead of him, with him becoming more closed off as he was constantly in the company of men who had no idea what he was capable of and treated him accordingly. He would become smaller, Merlin thought. More secretive, more closed off, with no one to turn to when he needed help. Merlin was tired of living like a shadow. He would have wanted to wait for Arthur to realize magic wasn’t evil without needing it spelled out for him (so to speak), but if he kept waiting then Arthur might never forgive him for keeping it a secret so long. Not that Merlin didn’t have perfectly good reasons for keeping the information for himself, but still. He wanted Arthur to know the truth. He wanted to start making his destiny a reality. If Arthur hated him for his gifts . . . well, the dragon had said Arthur couldn’t truly hate him. He hoped beyond hope that this was true.
Bracing himself, Merlin forced himself to look Arthur in the eye. Arthur, who was starting to look concerned. He hoped Arthur still cared enough to be concerned by the end of the conversation.
“I have magic.”
In an instant the concern was replaced by an eye roll. “Honestly Merlin, that isn’t something to joke about. What is this actually about? What did you do?”
Merlin frowned at him. “Of course I’m not joking, I’ve seen what happens to people in Camelot who have the slightest association with sorcery, I wouldn’t make a joke about it.” He took a deep breath, tried again. “I’m a sorcerer. I have magic. And I use it, for you, and for Camelot. And, well, sometimes for chores, but only when you give me more work than any one man could do in a single day, honestly Arthur.” Merlin cut himself off before he could continue rambling about Arthur’s failures as a master. Now was not the time.
Arthur sighed and fixed him an exasperated look. “Merlin, you aren’t a sorcerer. I would know.”
Merlin stared at him a moment, speechless. He would know? Merlin had been doing (fairly obvious) magic in front of Arthur for the past five years and had been afraid that one day, Arthur would put together the pieces and figure out Merlin’s lies before he could say anything. But apparently, the thought hadn’t even occurred to Arthur. And the thing that made him so certain that Merlin wasn’t a sorcerer was that he would know . Not you aren’t a sorcerer, magic is evil , or you aren’t a sorcerer, you couldn’t have learned magic in Camelot , or even, you aren’t a sorcerer, you aren’t bright enough .
It was Merlin, you aren’t a sorcerer. I would know. Because he knew him so well?
Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin’s incredulous look and started to say something. What it was, Merlin would never know.
“You would know? Are you serious, Arthur? Why would you possibly know if I was a sorcerer?”
Again, Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin was getting more and more tempted to remove them from his skull. “I am the crown prince of Camelot, I think I would know if my manservant was a sorcerer.”
Merlin couldn’t decide if he was more angry or confused. “Yes, you are the crown prince of a kingdom that persecutes magic users, Arthur, so why do you think I would do anything to even hint to you at being one myself?”
Arthur waved his hand. “Besides the fact that you can’t keep a secret to save your life, there’s also the fact that. I mean.” He blushed a little (though he would surely deny it if asked), avoiding Merlin’s eyes. “Well, we are, sort of, friends, are we not? When you aren’t being a total idiot, at least. That is to say, we’ve spent the last five years in each other’s company, Merlin, so I think I can safely say I know you quite well by now. I suspect being a sorcerer would have come up a little sooner if it were true.”
Merlin stared at him another moment, then narrowed his eyes. “What’s my favorite color?”
Arthur blinked at the seeming non sequitur. “Your favorite . . . color? You rescheduled my meeting this morning so you could tell me your favorite color?”
“No, Arthur, I rescheduled your meeting to tell you I have magic but you’re acting like a complete and utter clotpole about it! You seem to think you know me so well, so what is my favorite color?” Merlin practically shouted.
Arthur raised his eyebrows, but seemed to contemplate the question for a moment before finally responding. “I’m the crown prince, Merlin, I’ve never needed to know my manservant’s favorite color.”
“You might not need to know your manservant’s favorite color, true, but it’s something you would know about a friend ! You said we are sort of friends after all, and you know all about me. Enough to know I couldn’t possibly have magic, even! So tell me what you know! For myself, I know your favorite color. But then, if that one is too hard for you, we can try a different one! What is my favorite food?”
Arthur stared at him blankly. Merlin glared. “Come on, Arthur, we’ve been on hunts together! We’ve eaten together, you ought to know this one. You know me so well, after all! Nothing? Fine! What’s my favorite childhood memory? Who was my first kiss? Or my first love? What is my biggest fear? What do I like to do in what little free time I get as your servant and Gaius’ apprentice?”
“The tavern!” Arthur practically yelled, before clearing his throat and continuing, somewhat sheepishly. “The last one, that is, I know that one. You like to go to the tavern in your free time, and often when you’re meant to be working as well, if I might add.”
Merlin thought he couldn’t get any more worked up than he already was. Merlin was wrong.
“ The tavern! You really, truly think I actually, honest-to-goodness, spend all of my time in the tavern?” Merlin practically screeched, before forcibly shutting his mouth and closing his eyes, taking a few deep breaths through his nose. Arthur looked bewildered.
“. . . Don’t you? Gaius always says–”
“Arthur, you’ve seen me drink before! I have almost no alcohol tolerance, do you honestly think I spend all my free time getting drunk? Or, when I’m meant to be working , do you think I would really leave in the middle of a crisis to go to the tavern? Do you actually, honestly think that is something I would do?” He paused, but when Arthur opened his mouth to respond, decided he wasn’t done yet. “And with what money? You know my paycheck, how could I possibly afford to spend that much time in the tavern? Did you ever even bother to check? It wouldn’t even be hard, you would only have to ask Gwaine if he had seen me down there recently!”
Arthur tentatively opened his mouth again before Merlin barreled on once more. “And if you have been so convinced I spend all my free time getting drunk, has that not concerned you, even a little? Did you really think, Wow, my manservant has been spending unusually large amounts of time in the tavern recently, I bet it’s because he’s a lazy git , and not, Wow, my manservant has been spending unusually large amounts of time in the tavern lately, I wonder if something is wrong? But no! You never bothered to check on me! You have never inquired anything about my personal life unless it was directly interfering with my ability to do your chores or to joke and keep you entertained! You think you know me so well, and in some ways, sure, yes, you do know me! But you only know the parts of me that have anything to do with you! So no, I never told you I have magic, because, as stated, you are the crown prince of a kingdom that would see me executed for existing! And I’ve never gotten any indication from our friendship that you care what happens to me outside of how it would interfere with your own life!” Finally, Merlin stopped, took a deep breath.
“You truly aren’t joking, then. About the magic.” Arthur’s face was unreadable, and suddenly Merlin was reminded that he had been trying to keep Arthur in a good mood and had instead just finished shouting at him. “So tell me then, Merlin,” he continued, “if I’m such a terrible friend to you, why are you telling me about your magic now? Clearly, all I care about is your ability to do your chores and keep me entertained . Why do you think you can tell me this now without getting executed?” Arthur looked stoic, but Merlin could hear the underlying tremble in his voice. “Or do you think I am in fact going to execute you and you have some sort of death wish? Do you have a death wish, Merlin? Are you . . . doing alright? But no,” he gave a huffy laugh, “No, if you needed to talk about something you wouldn’t want to do that with me . You would probably just talk to your friends, right? People who actually know things about you. Your favorite color, your hobbies. Your magic. I’m hardly the right choice for that .”
“Arthur,” Merlin sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you, I’m sorry about that. I’m telling you this now because . . . well, I’m not going to say I don’t think you’re going to execute me now, because I honestly have envisioned this conversation thousands of times and I still have no idea what you are going to do. But I trust that whatever you do, it will be the right decision. It’s true you haven’t always been the friend I wanted, but I understand why. I’m your servant, and I have been actively trying to hide myself from you for years in fear of revealing something I shouldn’t. You are, however, rapidly becoming the king I have always hoped you would be.” Arthur gave a small start at that, looking up at him with suspiciously shiny eyes.
Merlin continued. “I’m tired of hiding from you, Arthur, and for so long now I have wanted nothing more than to be honest, about everything. You have shown yourself to be a just ruler, one who is willing to deviate from his father’s laws if it means doing what is right and true. You knighted commoners because you care more about a man’s heart than his status. You are courting a servant girl instead of a princess because you believe that pursuing love is more valuable than pursuing more land and power. You are still a bit of a prat, but,” Merlin smiled, and Arthur’s lips twitched in response. “You are destined to be the greatest king this land has ever known. I truly believe that, and so I want to trust you with my secret. And for the record,” he added, “I don’t actually have any friends that know about my magic, not anymore. Lancelot found out by accident when he first came to Camelot, but . . .” Merlin trailed off as his eyes started to water against his will. He looked down to hide the shine, but looked up again as he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even heard Arthur stand up.
Arthur gave a small smile. “Merlin,” he said, then paused, thoughtfully. “In truth, I don’t know what to make of the magic. You . . . surprised me. I suppose the idea that you’re actually good at something caught me off guard,” he joked, then cursed. “Sorry, not the time, but. I have long suspected that magic isn’t the force of evil my father always said it was. I suspected this, and even had examples to show me the potential good, or at least, the potential neutrality of magic. The druids, your friend from Ealdor, the poultice used to cure Guinevere’s father from that plague. But I always pushed the thoughts aside. While my father was king, it was easy to write off such thoughts as treasonous, or as thoughts better contemplated when I was ruler one day and could do something about them. Now, I am still not officially the rightful king, and I haven’t been inclined to see the good in magic after Mor-” his voice cracked, but he soldiered on. “After what happened with Morgana. But, Merlin. I . . . admit I don’t know you as well as I thought. You are right, I have been a terrible friend to you, even more so as I have been persecuting your people all this time, and I am sorry. I didn’t do anything to make you think you could come to me with your magic, and I am more grateful than I can say that you have trusted me with this secret despite my shortcomings. But . . . I do know you, Merlin. At least, I know your heart. And I know that you aren’t evil; I don’t think you could ever be evil. And if you’re you and you also have magic, then my father really was wrong about sorcerers.” He gripped Merlin’s shoulder more tightly.
“I don’t know what to think about the magic, Merlin, but I swear to you I am going to figure it out. I will need your help, of course, if you are willing. I need to know more about what you’ve done here, especially since it seems I was quite wrong about your presence at the tavern, and the fact that these ‘tavern trips’ always seem to happen when Camelot has been in some form of peril seems rather significant. I will also need to know more about your magic and magic in general, and I imagine I will need your insight when I eventually address the laws with the council.” Arthur smiled, hopeful.
Merlin gave his own small grin in response. “I don’t know, Sire, are you sure you want a servant’s help with such important matters?”
Arthur looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe not a servant’s help, no.” Merlin looked concerned for a moment, until Arthur continued. “But I could use the help of a friend. And I promise I will try to be a better one than I have been so far. So, what do you say?”
Merlin stared at him a moment, and burst into a blinding smile. “Sounds good to me, Arthur.” They gripped each others’ forearms, the way they had before the battle in Ealdor. They had been equals then, in that moment, and it seemed they were to be equals once more.
Merlin continued grinning, his eyes shining. Yes, there was still so much to discuss and many truths to be disclosed. Morgana was still a threat and Aggravaine’s treachery needed to be revealed, but for now . . . for now, Merlin’s destiny had never seemed closer.
---
“By the way, Merlin, what is your favorite color?”
“Oh!” Merlin scrunched up his face, contemplating. “I don’t think I have one, actually!”
“ Merlin!”