'For are you not also a creature of magic, Arthur Pendragon?'

The blind oracle's words linger on in Arthur's head for the entirety of the journey back, but it isn't till he is in his room an Merlin is undressing him that he understands. A memory of a witch and a vision present themselves to his tired mind and burn themselves almost painfully into realization.

'A creature...of magic.' Merlin looks up sharply, and for a moment Arthur cannot fathom his expression. Then it returns to Merlin's typical expression of cheerful innocence, but the transition is too slow for Arthur to truly trust it.

'It's probably not what you think it is. It's some joke about destiny or something.' Merlin is no longer looking at him, carefully unbuckling his arm and fixing his eyes to the job at hand. Arthur begins to shake with some suppressed emotion, but keeps his voice steady.

'But this isn't the first time I've been called such is it? Once before there has been an explanation of my past, and it was so terrible that it caused me to attack my father. But I was assured it was false by...' another pained realization hits him full force. 'By... you!'

Merlin says nothing, but continues to undress Arthur with shaking fingers. Arthur cannot see his face and is struck with the sudden betrayal. His eyes ache and he turns his head to face the wall, avoiding everything but the pain that strikes inside him. That Merlin would ever lie or keep something from him never crossed his mind, and it hurts more than he can say.

'I'm sorry.' Merlin's voice is quiet, but hardly repentant. 'It was necessary.'

'Necessary? My father murdered my mother, and then in grief killed all others that dared make the same mistakes, be they innocent or not! Yet it was necessary to conceal it!' In a sudden rage Arthur pushes Merlin away from him. Merlin stumbles but doesn't fall, and when he straightens up there is more anger in his face than Arthur has ever seen, especially not directed towards him. His eyes blaze with it and Arthur involuntarily steps backwards.

'You think it was easy for me?' His voice is angry yet controlled. 'I hated your father! The man was a monster. I said what I had to say to stop you killing him, not for his sake but for yours. What kind of king would you make if you had murdered your own father? Not only were you not yet ready, but the kingdom itself wasn't ready and you would have both suffered. I have done, and will always do whatever it takes to make you the strong king and good person that I know you are. If it takes concealment to do it,' Merlin gave a long sigh, the kind that seems as if it has been bottled up for years. 'Than that is what I will do.'

Arthur is both flabbergasted and oddly touched by this speech, but he shakes it off to try and still feel anger and betrayal. He has often been confused by this side of Merlin- it is hardly visible, but in times of need arises and takes over. There is no clumsiness or vagueness of language when Merlin is like this. He never seems less Merlin-like.

'Why should you hate my father?' It is one of the questions that puzzle Arthur, and though he should know the answer there is something else that Merlin hasn't told him.

'He was a good king in some ways.' Merlin looks away. 'But he never gave support to the weak, instead ignoring it. That's why it was always you who had to help.' There is a certain measure of pride in his eyes, but it makes Arthur uncomfortable. It's the kind of pride that a sword smith would give his best sword after forging it: the pride of the creator. 'Add that onto the way he persecuted my kind, and there were more than enough reasons.'

Arthur's ears prick up slightly. 'Your kind?'

'Anyway, it doesn't matter now,' says Merlin hurriedly. 'He's dead.'

Arthur concedes the point. He could no better stay mad at Merlin then he could at his arms or legs. Merlin knew him better than anyone, and Arthur considered them almost the same person, they were so close. 'I'm sorry I pushed you. That wasn't right.'

'That's okay, sire. You were upset.' Merlin finishes removing the armour and steps back. 'Is that all sire?'

Arthur puts his hand on Merlin's shoulder and smiles into his face. 'Yes Merlin, that's fine. When have you ever called me sire in private? When we're alone, it's fine to call me Arthur.'

Merlin smiles back. 'I know. I just wanted to hear you accept that you don't mind.' Arthur lingered a while, continuing to look at Merlin. He doesn't understand him, that at least is certain. Merlin defies understanding. But Arthur also trusts him, more than he has or probably will trust anyone else. Merlin is his best friend, his advisor and his conscience rolled into one.

'Arthur? Can you let me go now?' Arthur reddens and releases Merlin's shoulder.

'Sorry.'

'It's fine.' Merlin flashes him a sunny smile and heads towards the door. Before he steps through he turns to Arthur. 'When I said my kind, I meant of course our kind.' Arthur stiffens, but Merlin disappears through the door. Arthur stares after him for a very long time.