A/N Hello my fellow Merlin fans! This fic is completely AU because Merlin frequently removes his neckerchief and this fic works on the premise that he does not. Don your slash goggles if you wish, but it's not how I'm writing these two - pure bromance all the way. I don't pretend to be a medieval scholar nor an expert on the Merlin fandom nor the Arthurian legends. If I make a huge mistake feel free to point me in the right direction and please, be kind this is unbeta'd. I hope the grammar's not too atrocious…

Disclaimer: The television show on which the characters and situations represented below are based belongs to BBC, not me. Any non-existent profit from this story will promptly be blown on books to help me forget that I have ever read Beloved, because that book is messed up. Seriously.

Enjoy!

Merlin was late. Not horribly so. As a matter of fact, it was actually quite early to be expecting him. Arthur rolled over in his tangled sheets. He wasn't annoyed, he reflected as the early morning sun began to color the dust motes a pale gold. He had gotten used to Merlin's tardiness over the years and wondered what excuse his manservant would offer this time. He almost hoped it was one of the more entertaining ones. He tolerated Merlin's eccentricities because he liked his company. The loyal young man had his quirks, but he didn't act like he was afraid of Arthur and that was refreshing.

He mulled over his relationship with the castle's most flighty servant as he waited for him to burst through the door. He realized that he knew very little of the young man he had come to consider a friend. The man was really an oxymoron wrapped in a paradox which had been smothered in contradiction. As outgoing as Merlin was, he was the most reclusive person Arthur had yet to meet. He decided he would remedy this…he would ask Merlin a question about himself each day in an effort to get to know his tardy manservant better.

As if summoned by this resolution, the door creaked open and bounced off the wall as a gangly young man bearing a covered tray stumbled into the room.

"You're late."

"Sorry, sorry. The castle was attacked by vicious dust bunnies last night. I told the knights you needed your rest and not to disturb you and that I could take care of them on my own. I only just got done beating the last one senseless with a broom."

Merlin breezed through his explanation, which was more or less true if you substituted gargoyles for dust bunnies and broom for ridiculously powerful and exhausting magic, as he placed the tray on the table and turned to help Arthur dress.

Arthur was sitting up in bed, staring incredulously at his manservant. Merlin caught his stare and held it until Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Dust Bunnies?"

"Vicious ones."

"Right." The response sounded suspiciously like Arthur was trying to choke back laughter. He did notice that Merlin looked unusually tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked drawn and pale. He thought about asking what Merlin had really been up to last night, but decided that Merlin would probably feed him more dust bunnies. He settled at last on something that had nagged him since meeting Merlin.

"I've been wondering…"

"A dangerous pastime."

"For you, maybe."

Merlin rolled eyes and went back to picking up the clothes scattered around the room. Honestly, was it impossible to just throw them in the same general direction?

"As I was saying, I was wondering about your clothing choices…"

"There's not much choice Arthur, they're all I own."

Arthur shot him The Look and Merlin returned fire with a withering one of his own.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me the second time, I was curious as to why you always wear that thing around your neck. I mean, it's hotter than the perilous lands right now, and there's no way that it's thick enough to keep you any warmer in the winter."

Merlin looked uncomfortable "Uhhh…" He looked away and went back to cleaning

"Merlin!" Arthur's eyes widened in amusement and he let out a small chuckle as he took in his manservant's evasiveness. "Is it supposed to be a fashion statement? It can't be a token from some girl, could it?"

Merlin cut him off with a glare and snapped, "Leave me alone!" as he stormed out the door with the basket of laundry, slamming it with a resounding bang behind him.

Arthur was rocked by the violence of his servant's reaction. It had been a simple question and Merlin had never shied from their verbal sparring before. He starred, flabbergasted, at the dust that drifted down around the door from the force of his friend's exit. What on earth had gotten into Merlin?

Merlin stalked down the hall, his arms full of dirty shirts and socks. He angrily dashed away tears as he hurried down to the castle laundry. He thought he was past this! There was no reason for him not to be able to come up with some witty repartee to shut Arthur up. He'd never had a problem with it before…

He's never brought *this* up before a tiny part of his mind whispered. And it didn't help that he was just so tired…

He dropped the stinking pile of cloth off with the washerwomen and headed back to the quarters he shared with Gaius. The rooms were empty, for which he was grateful. He was in no state to interact civilly with anyone right now, even if talking to Gaius about it would probably have helped.

He wandered aimlessly through the room for a few minutes, idly running his fingers over the neatly labeled flasks and bottles that littered every flat surface that wasn't already covered by books. His eyes drifted up to the light filtering into the window as he sat on the edge of Gaius' cot and he was transported back to another sunlit day.

He was fourteen and as scrawny as any boy from the village and a good deal smarter. At least, that's what he always told Will when he mocked Merlin for his wiry frame. The dollop-head! Everyone looked like a stick next to his burly shoulders.

He smiled as he hefted his scythe over his shoulder and turned towards the field to help with the harvest. It looked to be a good year, the barley heads were full and golden and there was a slight nip in the air that suggested that winter was on its way.

He swung at the waving grain with a gusto that petered out around midday. He was bone weary as he threw himself down beneath the shade of one of the trees bordering the field with the rest of the men as he unpacked his bread and lump of cheese. A small girl toddled towards him bearing a skin of water from the stream.

"Thank you Jili," he breathed as he gulped down the cool liquid.

"Yer welcome Mer-lin!" she chirped as she scampered over to Owem, her father, to give him a drink as well. Merlin laughed as her enthusiastic greeting to her parent ended up soaking him with most of the contents of his own water skin. He had always had a soft spot for Jili, most of the village did. She was sweet and always willing to help.

He sighed as he got up and hefted the blade over his shoulder once more. He moved off with Gandor, a surly man who Merlin had never got on with. Gandor had lost his wife and all of his children in the Purge. No one else had lost anyone to the Purge in the entire village, it being so far from Camelot and not technically part of that kingdom. It was rumored the only reason he had lost them was because he had turned them in himself. Merlin had always been wary around him. He worried that if Gandor ever found out his secret, he would not be nearly so understanding as Will had been. They took up parallel positions and once more began moving down the golden rows.

Hours later, as the sun began to kiss the horizon and most of the other harvesters had gone home, Merlin heard a startled, high-pitched cry. He turned as saw Jili on the ground in front of Gandor who was mid-swing. There was too much momentum built up, he couldn't stop the swing and the blade was headed right for Jili!

Merlin's magic reacted instinctively as he threw up his hands and shouted, "Jili!"

As his eyes flared a brilliant gold Gandor and his scythe froze and Jili looked up, trembling, and scooted out of the way of the glittering curve that could have spelled her death. She shot one terrified glance at Merlin and disappeared into the remaining waves of grain.

Merlin groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Great, now someone else knew and she was afraid of him now! …Shit! Gandor! He raised his face from behind his fingers with trepidation, only to find Gandor's eyes firmly fixed upon him. He must have looked over when he heard Merlin's yell.

Of course, the magic chose that moment to unfreeze the other man. He finished the interrupted swing of his scythe, his eyes still locked with Merlin's as he stumbled forward a step.

Now it was Merlin who stood, paralyzed. Gandor spluttered a bit and then his eyes lit with an unholy rage as he took a step towards Merlin. "SORCERER!" he cried as he lurched forward, hands outstretched, leaving the scythe behind.

Merlin, realizing his danger, spun on his heel and tried to flee only to find a hand firmly latching onto the back of his jerkin. The material tore and his coltish legs tangled, dumping him on the grain-strewn ground. He felt a weight land on his legs as Gandor was pulled down with him. Merlin reached for his magic, trying to push the crazed man off of him or something but nothing happened.

A hand clamped down on his neck and Gandor's thick fingers began to squeeze. "Sorcerer scum!" he grated out, his rancid breath hitting Merlin's face. Merlin twisted desperately beneath the older man's bulk, trying to extract himself. His flailing had no effect on Gandor as he reached towards his belt and removed a long knife that caught the last of the fading light as the sun disappeared behind the distant hills.

Merlin stilled beneath him as the naked blade caught his eye. Gandor smiled a truly nasty smile. "I always knew there was something funny about you, boy. And now I know what! Magic!" he hissed. "Evil! Wicked! Scum!" He drew back his arm and Merlin knew he meant to kill him.

With a sudden burst of strength he managed to twist around beneath Gandor, breaking his grip. He tried to crawl far enough away so that he could regain his feet. He knew if he could just get up, he could outrun the stockier Gandor.

His heart sank as he felt Gandor's knee land on the small of his back. He didn't even have time to twist back and try to wrestle the knife away. He felt Gandor grip his hair with his free hand. His head was wrenched back and he felt a fiery pain blossom across his neck as the steel was drawn across his throat and his startled cry was abruptly silenced.

Gandor released his hair and he fell forward in the dirt, his hands scrabbling at his severed throat. Gandor pressed his toe into his side, rolling him over. "One less piece of scum in the world," he whispered triumphantly. He loomed over Merlin once more as he continued to gasp for breath that wouldn't come, his fingers stained with his lifeblood and spat upon his prone form.

He laughed as he turned back to his fallen scythe, picked it up and headed home, leaving the broken boy behind him.

As Merlin lay there, unable to breathe, his vision began to grow dark. Soon there was nothing at all. He thought of his mother and the warm fire that surely would be there waiting with supper. He could almost see it. No…he could see it. His mother looked at him and began to speak, but he couldn't hear her. He started running towards her and he finally got close enough to hear her whispering but It wasn't her voice. "You cannot die now, Emrys! You have a destiny to fulfill. The young Pendragon will never succeed without you. Get up!"

"I can't!" he called back. "I don't know how! I-"

"You have the power, but not the control and so I will help you. I look forward to meeting you, young warlock."

Unbeknownst to Merlin, small golden sparks had begun to crackle forth around the wound. Molten color settled on the spilled blood and it began to flow back from where it came. There was a blinding flash of light that shot up into the sky; a brilliant pillar of radiance that could be seen for miles had anyone cared to look.

The only ones who saw, though, were his mother and Owem who had gone out together to look for him. Merlin woke to his mother's horrified cry as she dropped to her knees beside him and began sobbing.

"Mother?"

"Merlin! Where are you hurt? What's wrong? Oh god, there's so much blood!"

He felt his throat as he glanced down at his shirt and understood his mother's hysteria. With the stains, it certainly looked as though someone had been murdered in it. 'And someone was,' he thought.

"I'm fine now Mother…" he trailed off as he glance up towards Owem.

"Jili told me everything, including what Gandor did. Apparently she went back after you saved her. Your mother and I were, understandably, worried," he said and glanced pointedly at Merlin's bloodied shirt. "I want to thank you for saving Jili, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I think I am now."

"Good, because I don't think it's safe for you to go back to the village now. Gandor will try to turn the people against you if he finds out you survived."

Merlin nodded woodenly as his mother wrapped her arms around him. His blood slicked fingers continued to stroke his newly healed throat and it finally registered that his fingers were not sliding smoothly across the expanse of flesh. Further analysis led him to the conclusion that his throat had not healed perfectly.

Jili picked that moment to burst out of the standing grain and wrap herself around her father's leg. "You's messy," she said solemnly as she firmly placed her thumb in her mouth and clutched the faded red scrap that was all that was left of her favorite blanket.

"Thank you Jili," Merlin said, a bit flabbergasted. Jili stared up at him as he pushed himself into a more or less upright position.

"You's neck looks funny now," she observed in the same tone.

"It's called a scar." Merlin explained in a too high voice. Shock was beginning to set in and his lanky frame began to shake. Jili looked between him and the faded scrap clutched in her tiny fist. Then she stepped forwards, still maintaining contact with her father's leg and thrust her offering forward.

"You sav'd me. And you's cold. You take blankie and be warm."

Merlin made to refuse the gift, but though better of it as he saw the tears begin to well in Jili's eyes when he didn't move to take the cloth.

"That was a very thoughtful gift, Jili. That's my girl," Owem whispered tenderly. "Merlin, you can stay with us tonight. You mother can bring some of your things there later, but tomorrow you must leave. Ealdor is no longer safe."Merlin nodded numbly and promptly collapsed into Owem's arms.

PAGE BREAK

He awoke in Owem's house with Jili tickling his nose and his mother frantically scratching something on a bit of parchment. She thrust it in his pack with instructions to give it to Gaius when he got to Camelot.

She touched the ugly scar as she began to say her goodbyes to him. She snatched the blanket scrap from his hand (he had woken with it clutched in his fist) and tied it around his neck. "There, now no one can see it. I love you Merlin. Be safe and let no one know your secret. Keep it safe, and keep this on as a reminder of what happens when they do find out."

With those parting words, he stepped out the door and left Ealdor behind forever.

Merlin came back to himself with a start as the door slammed closed behind him and Gaius began taking jars and bottles out of his bag.

"What's the matter, Merlin? You look like you've seen a ghost." Gaius' flyaway brow had risen to new quizzical heights as he took in his ward's pale and shaky features. He wasn't reassured when Merlin slowly dropped into a chair, rubbing his neck.

"Are you ill, Merlin?" The boy shook his head slowly as he unknotted his neckerchief to reveal a thick, ropy scar that divided his neck in an angry red line.

"Gaius, is there anything that you can do to make this less visible?"

The older man shook his head and sighed. "I've done all I can for it, Merlin. With time it may fade a bit but you will always have that scar. I'm sorry."

With a sigh of his own, he thanked Gaius and went to pick up Arthur's clothing.

Arthur was miffed. Merlin had been late, and he had shouted at him after asking such an innocent question. He had no right!

He resolved to speak to Merlin about his actions when he returned, which should be soon. He resumed writing and true to his prediction, the door slid open to reveal his manservant and a teetering pile of fresh laundry.

Arthur stared at his friend and considered how to proceed. He decided the straightforward route was the best. After all it worked well in battle, why not now? He stepped around his desk and relieved Merlin of the dangerously swaying top half of the laundry pile and plopped it on the bed. Merlin's newly revealed face was peering warily at him over the greatly reduced pile of shirts left in his arms.

"I'm…sorry, if my earlier inquiry offended you Merlin." The shirts promptly hit the floor in tandem with his servant's jaw.

"You're apologizing? To me?" He shook his head as though he had water in his ears as Arthur's face pinkened.

"Yes, I am. Though I still think your reaction was unwarranted. You could have just told me that you didn't want to answer or asked me to ask something else."

Merlin continued to stare at his master. He blinked slowly and replied as though speaking to a small child, "Arthur, that doesn't really occur to anyone you ask something of. You're the prince, an answer is usually required. Besides that, you being you, I didn't expect you to let up even if I wanted you to. I've seen you hunt, Arthur. You don't let up when your goal is in sight."

Arthur seemed taken aback by his servant's sudden eloquence. "Is that really how you feel about me? When I ask you something you feel…hunted?"

"As a matter of fact, yes! I actually feel that way a lot."

"Mer-lin!" Merlin's heart skipped a beat as Arthur pronounced his name just like Jili did that day. "I am not hunting you, nor am I going to eat you if you refuse to answer something. I may not like it, but if it's personal, I won't pry. You're my friend Merlin. The first one I've had in a long time."

"You think of me as a friend?" Merlin felt hope blossom in his chest. Perhaps this was the time…

"Yes Mer-lin, you're my friend. Don't let it go to your head."

"No worries there!' Merlin smiled and sat on the edge of Arthur's bed. He fingered the neckerchief and looked at his mast-, no, his friend. "Arthur…" Arthur looked up at the sudden change in Merlin's tone. "Do you really want to know why I wear this?" Arthur sat beside him and fingered the worn red scrap.

"Yes Merlin. I've realized how little I know of you and I wanted to learn a bit more." Merlin looked at him intently for a moment.

"Alright Arthur." He pulled the knot free and let the clot flutter to his lap. Arthur reared back as though he'd been struck as the ghastly scar was revealed. He stared, horror struck, at what should have been a mortal wound and slowly looked up to Merlin's face.

"W-what happened? Who did this to you Merlin?" The shock was wearing off and the prince was getting angry. Merlin raised a hand to forestall his rage and further speech.

"I trust you Arthur. Implicitly. That is the only reason I'm willing to share with you the biggest secret of my life and why I've kept it hidden all of these years. All I ask is that you listen before you decide I need to be executed too. "

Arthur's regard had changed from fury to confusion as his manservant began to tell him of a beautiful fall day, not so many years ago.

Arthur felt drained. Merlin had spoken long past the setting of the sun and they had both missed the evening meal. When he had fallen silent, he had gotten off the bed and went to stand by the window, gazing at the brightly burning stars.

"Arthur?" The soft voice cracked through the silence like shattering glass. He whipped his head around and brought his gaze to bear on the sorcerer who had been posing as his manservant…and saving his life for years. The tale seemed incredulous but then, so did the idea of Merlin being an evil sorcerer. Merlin's opening story had held him enthralled and after it he had decided to grant his manservant's request and allow him to finish speaking. Arthur had gone from horrified, to frightened to being angrier than he had ever felt, back to scared and then relieved and then shocked as Merlin's tale had ranged over that fateful harvest to the gargoyles attacking the night before. There was a lot to digest in that particular tale and the ones that had followed. He needed time to think and Merlin just kept staring at him.

"Please Arthur, just say something."

"What do you want me to say, Merlin? My best friend just told me that he's a sorcerer and that he's been lying to me since the day we met! I- I- I…" Words failed him.

"Just…just leave Merlin." Merlin's face abruptly became an emotionless mask as he stiffly unfolded himself from his position on the bed and made his way to the door. He shot a last look over his shoulder as he closed the heavy oak panels behind him and fled to Gaius' chambers. Arthur sat on his desktop and thought long into the night.

He was still sitting there when the door creaked open at the proper time for royalty to be awakened and an unfamiliar face pushed through with his breakfast. The servant stuttered his apologies for not being there earlier and 'would my lord like an earlier wakeup call tomorrow?' He shook his head in confusion, wondering where Merlin had got to. There was no reason for him not to be there…

Realization struck him like a thunderbolt. No, there was no earthly reason for Merlin not to be here, in Camelot. He was a good man and an loyal friend. What had he been thinking last night, dismissing Merlin without talking to him?

Mind made up, he made his way to the wardrobe and dressed himself. As he passed the bed, he saw a patch of red peeking through the pile of linen shirts Merlin had dropped when Arthur had apologized to him.

He snatched the scraggly scrap of what he now knew to be a former blanket and walked towards the door and then abruptly about faced. He headed to a smaller chest of drawers and began to rummage feverishly through it. When he found what he was looking for, he hastily wrapped it in Merlin's neckerchief and double timed it out the door.

Merlin sat and stared numbly at the wall of his tiny room as he had been doing all night. He was sure at any moment a detail sent by Uther to kill him would come bursting through the door. He started violently as the thin piece of wood banged noisily against the wall.

He slowly uncurled from the hunched position he had instinctively tucked into when he didn't hear any further noise. His sweeping glance settled on Arthur as he stood in his doorway looking extremely uncomfortable as he began to speak.

"Merlin, I-I want you to know that I'm not my father. I know you're a good person, I've seen it. Magic doesn't change that, especially if you were born with it. I'm angry, so very angry that you didn't tell me before now. I can see why you didn't when we first met, but it's going to be very hard to trust you for a while after all the lies you've told me." Merlin ducked his head and refused to meet Arthur's eyes. "But, I think we can start again. Fresh. I think you could be an asset to this kingdom and I still…I still want you as a friend." As Arthur finished his little speech, he tipped Merlin's chin back so that he met his eyes and handed Merlin the small object he had been twisting between his fingers as he spoke.

Merlin's nerveless fingers fumbled the small bundle as he shook out his tattered, red neckerchief and another cloth fell free. It was a piece of soft linen, died a bright blue and just the right size to be tied around his neck. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized that Arthur really had accepted him. They would still have a lot of work ahead of them to get their relationship back to the place it had been, but they could do it.

"Thank you, Arthur…" he whispered as stroked the soft cloth. Arthur snatched it from his admiring fingers and leaned around the slighter boy to knot it around his throat and the visible reminder of why Merlin had so jealously guarded his secrets for so long.

"Don't be such a girl Merlin. After all, if I turned you over to my father who would I have to polish my armor, wash my clothes, clean my room and yes…I do believe my stables need mucking out…"

Merlin grinned as he tuned out the list of chores. Things would go back to normal, he still had his friend, and now he didn't have to hide anymore. That was his last thought as he executed a flying tackle and hugged Arthur.

"Mer-lin, get off! You are such a girl's petticoat!"

"Dollop head!"

"Pain in the arse!"

" Royal prat!" Merlin ran out the door with this parting shot, Arthur in hot pursuit. Two sides of the same coin, finding their destiny, together.

A/N: Well, it's almost 4 AM and it's finally finished. Why do the plot bunnies only bite in the single digit AM hours? Hope you enjoyed my foray into the Merlin fandom, please let me know what I did right/wrong in your review. Thank you for reading!

galimeril ;D