"Merlin? Did you wait out here all night?"
"I didn't want you to feel like you were alone."
Arthur bit back tears at the memory. It had been nearly six months since his father had died. It had been three since he had last seen Merlin.
He should have realized it sooner...but no, he was so stupid...
He should have known that Merlin had magic. It was so obvious, when he thought about it. Every time he was miraculously saved by a falling branch- or falling rocks- it had been Merlin. Yet he hadn't known it until it was too late.
After months of searching, searching and never finding his friend, Gaius finally told him the truth. Arthur understood now why he had told him, after all that time and with such hesitation: he really believed Merlin was dead. He had given up hope.
Gaius had timidly explained it all to him. He told him everything he had never known about his servant, everything the boy had kept secret. The old physician had mentioned something about owing it to Merlin; he was adamant in stating that Merlin would have wanted Arthur to know, and that he had planned to tell him, eventually. But he had never had the chance.
Arthur wanted to curse himself for his blindness.
He could understand why Merlin had been afraid to reveal his true self; after all, Merlin had witnessed his reaction to magic after Uther's death. He must have been terrified.
But of course, Arthur considered bitterly, Merlin was still brave. Always, he had been the bravest of them all- and Arthur had never noticed. He had not even known how far his servant would go to save him.
He had seen the boy do stupid, self-sacrificing things, like when he drank the poison- but this last time was different. Merlin had used his magic to save Arthur, at the cost of his own life. And Arthur was the only one who knew.
Merlin was a hero. As difficult as it was to reconcile his servant having magic, Arthur could not bring himself to be angry or upset. It hurt more, he reminded himself, to lose his friend- it hurt more than any amount of lies that may have come between them.
Looking back he could feel nothing but grief and pain and terrible, terrible sadness. He could feel only guilt. He hadn't known then why the rocks had fallen right at that moment. He didn't know by what twist of fate he was separated from the oncoming bandits and protected- nor why his servant had the ill luck to be trapped on the other side with the enemy. But now he knew.
Merlin had always been the hero.
Torturous questions now plagued Arthur: what was it like to knowingly consign yourself to die? How must Merlin have felt in that last moment when he watched Arthur stagger back to safety, knowing it was most surely the last time he would see him? But even more painfully he considered: How had it felt, believing that no one would ever know of his sacrifice? These thoughts kept Arthur awake into the dark hours of the night.
Merlin had been left alone at the end. It cut deep into Arthur to know it; Merlin had never once left him to suffer alone. Never.
With every cycle of the moon that passed, Arthur felt a little more of his hope ebb away. But he sent out the search party. Even after a year he still searched.
Alive or dead, his friend deserved a hero's welcome home.