This takes place about two weeks after season 4 ends, placing this right at the start of the three years we don't see before season 5.

I Have Magic!

Merlin was twitchy. Very twitchy. No less than six maids, four servants, one noble, and every knight of the round table had asked him if he was okay. His replies always came back as short, rushed, and nervous. No one was convinced as the obviously not-okay servant slowly made his way towards the king's chambers. And by slowly, I mean taking four steps forward, stopping, backtracking, going down the wrong corridor, returning, and then take another few steps to repeat the process all over again. He took the absolute longest possible route there was to reach the king's chambers, taking him over an hour to finally get there. Arthur, for better or for worse, was still there, reading over several reports at his desk.

"I thought I gave you the day off," the king muttered when Merlin entered the room.

"N-no, you, um, you just told me to find something useful for me to do." Merlin was nervously tapping his fingers against the side of his leg, and he fought to keep the tremble out of his voice.

Arthur, noticing his unease, looked up with a furrowed brow. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Merlin gave an anxious laugh that sounded suspiciously like crying. "Heh, n-no. No ghost. Just me!"

Arthur was not convinced. "Seriously, what's troubling you? I don't think I've ever seen you this frightened."

The servant bit his lip and took a deep breath. "Okay," he sighed, sounding only minimally better. "There's...there's something I want to tell you. I've wanted to tell you this for a long time, but between your father and Morgana I just never found the right time, and then I'd accidentally go and make it worse-" He started pacing, running his fingers through his hair, tapping his fist against his palm, anything to keep his hands occupied. "I want you to know," he continued, "that I've always been loyal to you and to Camelot. Always. A-and I really hope you won't think less of me, it's not like I chose it, it just- I was born- I mean- I mean to say is-"

"Oh for god's sake, just spit it out, would you?" Arthur, for his part, was trying not to smirk. Merlin didn't notice this, of course, but the king was this close to bursting out laughing. When his face paled, Arthur had to cover up a snort with a cough, placing a hand over his lips to hide his smile.

Merlin was wringing his hands, sweating profusely, legs knocking together. He managed to stop his pacing, but it looked like he was going to die of fright any minute now. "Okay," he breathed. "Okay...alright...okay...so, um...okay-"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Okay," he repeated. "We've established that. Next word?"

Merlin nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists rapidly. "Okay- sorry. I mean, ImmasorceranIhamagic," he muttered very quickly, his words so soft it was almost a whisper.

"What?" Arthur asked, leaning forward on his desk.

"ImmasorceranIhamagic."

Arthur, still struggling not to smile, said, "You're a sorter and you hammock?"

Merlin's face bloomed bright red. "N-no. What I'm trying to say, is…" He trailed off, fingers twitching with his nerves. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and parted his lips to speak. No sound came out. He clamped his mouth shut, took another breath, and tried again. Still nothing.

Arthur sighed. "Look, Merlin, if you've got something to say, just say it. I don't have time to sit around waiting while you gape like a fish." With that, he stood and headed for the door. He still had a few more reports to go over, but he figured he'd give Merlin some time to gather his wits about him and tell him what he wanted to say. "If you need something to do," he added over his shoulder, "then you can go walk my dogs. They haven't been exercised in a while." And then he shut the door, leaving Merlin with his mouth still hanging open in his room.

Later that evening, Merlin tried again. Gwen wasn't in yet for the night, so it was just the king and his servant, the former finishing up those reports from earlier, and the latter absentmindedly stirring the fire. Once he was done, he stood and brushed himself off, coming to stand before Arthur. Once more, the king looked up to see his friend and servant twitching nervously, but a bit more calm from this morning. "Yes, Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"Arthur," he said, his voice coming out as a rasp. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Arthur, I have something to tell you."

"Alright," he replied when Merlin said nothing more. When still there was silence, he prompted, "Go on then."

Merlin nodded, breathing deeply. "Arthur...Tá mé draíochta!" he declared loudly, looking quite proud of himself until he realized he hadn't spoken in English.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him. "Speaking gibberish now?" he droned, shaking his head.

"N-no!" Merlin cried. "It's a real language!"

"Really," he drawled, lips twitching up into a smirk. He was doing a lot of that today. "What language was that then?"

Merlin paled considerably. "U-um, u-uh, I mean, um…" By the gods, he was stuttering his stutters now. Suddenly, Merlin shouted, "I have to go!" before whirling around and marching out of the room.

Later that night, Arthur told Gwen what happened. She laughed along with him and then told him that Merlin would say what he needed to say when he was ready.

The next day, Arthur barely saw Merlin at all, except for when he brought in breakfast and dinner and then turned up his sheets for the night. He barely said a word, and stubbornly avoided any and all eye contact. It was a dull day.

This lasted for about a week, with Arthur getting increasingly more irritated and Merlin increasingly more twitchy and nervous. The king was pretty sure that Gwaine and Leon were making bets on who would blow first, and Gwen's been making herself scarce for when the fuse ultimately ran out. Arthur wasn't sure who else noticed the thick tension between him and his servant, though he was fairly certain that half the castle knew at least something was up.

It was the eighth day of agitated-Merlin and the servant had hardly said more than three words to his king. He was currently setting the royal chambers to rights, though it was basically already clean. Merlin had taken to picking up a pillow, brushing it off, returning it to the bed, before picking it up again to do the exact same thing, all while trying to keep his hands from shaking and avoiding the king's gaze. Arthur was ready to crack.

Merlin walked around the bed, leaned over, and picked up the exact same gods-damned pillow for the umpteenth time. Arthur, eye twitching, was just about to throttle the guy when all of a sudden he threw his hands into the air, sending the pillow flying in the process and loudly declaring, "I have magic!" Instantly, his face flooded red, and the stuttering began. "I-I-I mean, I-um-I, uh, m-magic, um, I-"

"Oh, for goodness sake, shut up!" Arthur cried, throwing one hand over his eyes and slumping in his chair. "What that really so hard to say?" he grumbled. "I swear, if I had to suffer through one more minute of you shaking and stuttering like some sort of half-wit then I'd confess to having magic!"

Merlin, face completely pale, and still looking like he was about to be executed, muttered, "W-what?"

"Honestly, Merlin, it's only three words!" Arthur pushed himself up and began pacing, needing to let out all his built up tension somehow. "I admit, it was amusing at first, but then it just got bloody annoying! Three words! That's it!"

Merlin, dumbstruck, managed out, "You knew what I was going to say that I have magic?"

"Well, of course you have magic!" Arthur shot right back. "I'm not an idiot you know!"

"You knew!" Merlin gasped, taking a step back.

"Of course I knew!" Arthur shook his head. "I would have to be blind not to know! Immortal armies don't just disappear, chandeliers don't fall on their own, and the sword Gwen gave you all those years ago doesn't just end up in stone!"

"Gwen?" Merlin's eyes flew open. "Gwen knows too?"

Arthur snorted. "Gwen knows, Gwaine knows, Percival knows. We think Leon and Elyan at least suspect, but we don't bring it up unless we're absolutely certain. George, of all people, knows. We assume Gaius knows, has known since the beginning, and has helped you hide it all these years."

Merlin found himself sitting in one of the chairs surrounding Arthur's table, hand on his brow in disbelief. "I thought I was being careful!"

"You literally burst into court and declared to everyone that you were a sorcerer," Arthur reminded him.

"Wait...you've known since then?"

"Well, that's when I started to suspect," Arthur replied. "I knew you weren't in love with Gwen, even if she did have a crush on you-"

"Wait, she had a crush on me?"

"-and her father had to of gotten better somehow. I didn't know for certain until the dragon got loose and I supposedly 'dealt it a mortal blow.'"

Merlin was staring at him with widened eyes. "And the others?"

"Well, Gwen's been suspecting since the very beginning, though she wasn't certain until I pulled my sword from the stone and she recognized it as the one she gave you all those years ago. Gwaine said he knew you had magic when you two followed me into the Perilous Lands and the bridgekeeper called him Strength and you Magic. Apparently, Percival's known from almost the moment he met you. He said Lancelot often dropped hints, and magic was a lot more common where he grew up, so he recognized it easier. By the way, how come you told Lancelot and not me?"

"I…" Merlin was still trying to process everything he'd just learned. "I didn't. He found out, when I enchanted his spear to kill the griffin."

"Ah, that makes more sense," Arthur concluded, seeming pleased.

Merlin blinked several times before asking, "The servant, George, he knows? How?"

Arthur shook his head. "I honestly have no idea. He just came up to me one day and asked if you had magic. When I asked how he knew, he just said it was obvious and he was surprised that more people hadn't figured it out.

"Wha-" Merlin breathed, eyes still as wide as saucers, hand still clamped to his forehead. "All this time?" he whispered.

Arthur shrugged. "Well, after I concluded that you weren't evil, I decided I wanted you to come to me yourself, when you were ready. I know that between my father and Morgana there's never really been a good time."

"But...I thought you hated magic."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin was still staring off into nothing, and his hand had moved from his brow to his chest. "I don't hate magic. For a while I thought you were simply an anomaly. The exception that proves the rule, I suppose. Eventually, I realized that not all magic was evil, that it's really just how you use it. I planned to change the laws once I was king, but after my father died...well, things were complicated." Arthur sighed and sat across from Merlin, who was now looking a bit guilty. "I know now that the old man who tried to help really did all he could, but in my anger and grief I couldn't help but blame magic once more. And then, there was so much happening, between Gwen and Morgana that it simply wasn't the time." He offered Merlin a friendly smile and added, "But now is."

The warlock stared at him in surprise. "You're repealing the laws on magic?"

Arthur snorted. "What do you think I've been doing all week? Of course, you've been rather out of it, so I suppose you wouldn't have noticed. It's going to take time, of course. I can't just up and change a law we've had for over twenty years. A lot of people are terrified of magic, and those who aren't are terrified of being executed for thinking so. I'm hoping to slowly change their views by starting with the Druids."

"The Druids," Merlin muttered, looking to be in a daze.

"And then once that's done, you can be my new Court Sorcerer!" Arthur declared cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder and then leaving him to his thoughts. It was obvious he needed to sort a few things outs.

That's how Gwen found him, sitting in a daze in the royal chambers, a blank look on his face. Merlin looked up when she entered, and murmured, "Gwen I have magic," as if he was only just finding out for himself.

She giggled and came over, giving him a very serious look and stating quite solemnly, "Yes, Merlin. I'm glad you figured that out. It would have been quite embarrassing to have to tell you."

"Arthur's gonna make me Court Sorcerer," he muttered as Gwen led him back to his room, prompting Gaius to raise a concerned eyebrow.

"Don't mind him," Gwen assured him after setting Merlin on his bed. "Arthur just overloaded his brain, he'll be fine in the morning."

As she was leaving, they could both hear Merlin's confused voice yell, "How the hell did George find out I have magic?"

The Gaelic means "I have magic!" I think, under great duress, Merlin might inadvertently revert to the language of the Old Religion.