A/n: So I started watching Merlin. I'm just...I'm not even getting into it. Bottom line, I think everything would have been so much easier for everyone if Merlin was honest with Arthur from the get go. And when I say honest, I mean honest about his magic and honest about his undying love. There is no denying. Don't even try.
Also, if I was Merlin, I would never be able to say any of that to Arthur's face. Solution? I think yes. This will be short, and...humorous. I hope. I'm spitting this out in thirty minutes or so because the actual show is causing me emotional distress. Don't be expecting greatness.
Merlin tickled his sore [from constant, vicious chewing] bottom lip with the feathery end of his quill, thinking furiously. He looked at the blank parchment in his lap with nothing less than utter trepidation, and his dark brows drew together. His knee bounced restlessly. He drummed idle fingers against his inner thigh. This was important, he was putting his life at risk. He needed the perfect words. Nothing less would suffice. The candlelight shuddered in a breeze whispered in through loose walls. Merlin stared the parchment down, willing the words to write themselves. "Come on. We can do this." He said to the parchment.
He looked at the quill. "Right? Yes. Right."
He cleared his throat for the benefit of no one but himself, then dipped the end of his quill in the near inkwell. He touched quill to parchment, and carefully began to scrawl.
"Dear Prince Arthur,
You are many things. Arrogant, pigheaded, prideful, dense, I could go on. My list of complaints is extensive. You are the single most infuriating man in the whole of Camelot, outdone only by your father. And I say that with affection, honestly.
But you're also brave, compassionate, kind, and humble when it counts. You have Camelot's best interests at heart, and you care for your subjects more than yourself. In serving you, I take the good with the bad. I follow behind you, awaiting the day you bring change to these lands, because I have no doubts you will. Peace, prosperity, and harmony will stand behind your throne. And I'll be standing there too. There is nowhere I'd rather be, Arthur. You must know this, if nothing else.
If I don't say this now, I never will. And you'd probably never figure it out for yourself, you're so bloody thick. Arthur, I love you. I mean that in the most inappropriate of ways, as in I'd fall to my knees if you asked. I love your stupid, smug face. Your strong jaw, the small dip in your lower back, the banter we share and the liberties you let me take. I love that you listen to what I have to say. I love that your heart bleeds for those your father has wronged, but you respect him enough not to challenge his authority. I love the way you fight, there is no warrior more honorable. I especially love your voice, and the potent ways you use it. I feel absolutely ridiculous in saying this, but I am smitten with you, Arthur Pendragon. Please do not mock me on sight.
Also, just as a side note, I was born of magic. I've saved your life at least twenty times now, using magic. Your father too. You really, really need to be more careful. I'm running myself ragged making sure you don't die an untimely death, and I still have to shine your boots in the morning. Also, another side note, there may or may not be a Dragon living underneath the castle. There is. His name is Kilgharrah, and he's cheeky. He goes on and on about our destiny in uniting Albion and coins, I'd rather not get into it. That's it, I think.
Sincerely, your loyal and hardworking manservant, Merlin.
P.S. I took the liberty of taking some time off. As mentioned above, I work very hard. I have returned to Ealdor to visit with my mother. Not because I fear your reaction to this letter, but because my mother deserves a visit more than once every two years. I sincerely hope you don't die or become enchanted while I'm away.
P.P.S. Please do not execute me."
Arthur was faintly choking on nothing. He held the gently curled parchment in tight, shaking hands. His eyes were wide enough for him to feel an ache in his lids. His mouth moved soundlessly, as he struggled to comprehend the messily scrawled content. Merlin was...in love with him? Magic? In cahoots with a bloody Dragon? His world had lost any sense of logic, balance. He sat in ponderous silence for a good minute. Then, he slammed the letter down. He stood up suddenly, his chair scraping back. He had a manservant to hunt down, thoroughly debauch, and subsequently throw in the stocks.
"Merlin!"