"You're a royal prat."
"Now Merlin, is that anyway to treat Camelot's prince and savior? I did, after all, defeat the dragon. It would be no great difficulty to beat you into a pulp."
The last two weeks had gone by with this, Arthur jibing away at Merlin about the dragon attack, trying to goad him into revealing the truth. At first Arthur hadn't really minded that Merlin had lied to him, and he still completely understood why the boy had done it. But the fact remained that Arthur now knew: Merlin didn't trust him at all. Arthur had grown steadily more annoyed by this fact.
So the jibes continued. Each day Merlin seemed to grow a bit more annoyed with the prince's constant references to his great "success," but so far Merlin had not broken. And at this rate he never would.
"Perhaps not," Merlin answered cheekily, "but perhaps if you keep going on about how great you are, you might find that I slip while carrying your laundry and it falls into a batch of bright pink dye. What would that do to your precious pride to have nothing but pink clothes to wear?"
It was actually a fairly valid threat. Arthur cringed.
He tried again. "Well if you did, I'd certainly take revenge. I'm fairly certain my dragon-slaying sword holds more weight in the people's eyes than my clothes, anyway."
Merlin turned away, even more annoyed, without saying a word.
Arthur snapped. "Merlin!" he said at last. The servant looked up, startled at the suddenly aggressive tone instead of the arrogant teasing one he'd grown used to over the past days. "Don't you have any pride?"
"Wh—?"
"Were you ever going to tell me?" he asked with a roll of his eyes. "I know, Merlin," he added at Merlin's dumbfounded look. "Do you really think I'm that big an idiot? My sword's as good as a toothpick against a dragon. I know what really happened. I couldn't have killed the dragon, which meant it must have been you. And there's only one way you could have done that."
Merlin's eyes widened in shock and his mouth opened with nothing to say.
"Oh close your mouth already, you look like a fish." Merlin slammed his jaw shut as Arthur turned to stare out the window. "Honestly. I'm amazed at what little faith you have in me."
"Y—you're not going to turn me in?" Merlin stammered, at a loss for words.
Arthur rounded on him, dropping his arrogant façade. "Do you really think I would do that?" he said in all seriousness. "Merlin, you had the perfect opportunity to destroy all of Camelot, yet you chose to save it. I think you've proven your loyalty."
Merlin stared at him a moment longer before his face turned into the most genuine grin Arthur had seen on him. With that look of gratitude, Arthur couldn't help but forgive him for not trusting him. It was, after all, a very big secret.
"Thank you," was all Merlin said—all he could say.
"Don't mention it. Ever," Arthur added. If his father ever found out…
"You don't know how much it means to me," Merlin continued at last, "knowing I can really trust you. It's been so hard keeping my magic a secret from you."
There was a long moment of silence after his words—Merlin grinning like a loony and Arthur looking at his servant quite casually, processing his words.
"You're what?!" he exclaimed at last, finally realizing that he and Merlin had been talking about two completely different things. Merlin's face fell instantly, and the panicked look returned to his eyes, as well as the gaping fish-like motion of his mouth as he struggled to find something to say. "Answer me, Merlin!" Arthur demanded, but the boy remained silent. Merlin had spoken so sincerely that Arthur had no choice but to believe his words. He couldn't simply write off the "magic" comment as a joke, as he had countless times before.
As he had countless times before.
Gwen's father. The Witchfinder. Every time the subjects of Merlin and magic came together Arthur had found it absolutely ludicrous.
He really was an idiot.
"You're a sorcerer," he said simply, more to himself than to Merlin.
Again the silent gaping. "No," Merlin finally said, but they both knew it was a useless lie.
Arthur sat down, hard. "A sorcerer," he repeated in amazement, rubbing a hand over his face.
Yet nothing had changed. If anything, Merlin had even further proved his loyalty. With magic powerful enough to slay a dragon, he could have destroyed Camelot easily at any point in time. Yet he had saved Camelot.
But this was magic. A dragon lord was one thing, but a sorcerer? Could Arthur really keep such a secret? He looked at Merlin's terrified face. Yes, he could. He owed it to the boy.
"Your secret's...still safe with me," he said slowly, knowing full well that he had just committed treason.
Merlin was more cautious about his relief this time, as though sensing that if he was too relieved too soon it would all crumble again, but slowly his grin returned—albeit a bit more nervous looking than his one before.
"Are you sure?" Merlin asked softly.
Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation once more. "Do you want me to have you executed?"
"No, of course not."
"Then I suggest you not challenge my final decision. I am a prince of Camelot and am not used to being questioned."
Merlin let his grin return to his previous genuine one. Then it faltered slightly in confusion. "Out of curiosity, what were you talking about?" Merlin asked at last.
"Oh…I just thought you were a dragon lord," Arthur said, shifting a bit awkwardly. He'd thought he'd been so clever in figuring it out, yet he'd been an idiot after all.
"Oh," Merlin responded, ducking his head for a moment and smiling sheepishly. "Well, I'm that too," he admitted.
Arthur threw up his hands in defeat.