Set right after episode 13, contains spoilers, obviously.
Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Merlin, and I just write this for fun and make no profit with it.
earthly
It was on his way back from the island that he made the decision. What Nimue had said had shaken him, the way she, the way the dragon expected him to be on their side, against – Uther, of course, but Nimue had targeted Arthur as well, and the dragon...
The dragon had been working only for its own release this whole time: for all he knew, now, all his talk of destiny had been nothing but a trick, a way to throw him into Arthur's path and indebt them both to it, so Arthur would not fear magic, and release it when the time came.
Maybe it wasn't as bad as that, and the dragon hadn't lied even as it kept its own interest at heart, but his trust was shattered, and he no longer had a guide. He was alone now, and he needed to know, now that that was all that was left, that he and Arthur had something, if not a destiny. That Arthur truly was his friend. That Arthur...
The longer he stayed quiet, the more likely it became for Arthur to find out from someone else. It could be during a magical fight where he'd see, see that he wanted nothing but help him; but it might be by the words of one of these who called themselves his kin, and this might damn him one day, but he wanted at least Arthur not to believe what they might say.
They were silent during their ride back; Gaius threw him strange, worried looks from time to time, but didn't speak either; the closer they came to Camelot, the more his resolve weakened: he could think of a thousand reasons, now, why telling Arthur was a bad idea. What of Gaius? What if he didn't manage to convince Arthur he had known nothing? And his mother? And Arthur himself, if he was sent away or died, and could no longer protect him? Or even – what if he agreed to keep his secret, to commit treason for him? Wasn't his wish to talk selfish?
When they passed the gate, late in the evening, he was still fighting with his decision.
He found Gwen by his mother's bed, looking tired but delighted.
"She's better," she whispered quietly, when Merlin slowly approached, all cautious tenderness; he reached to touch her face, then lowered his hand, not wanting to wake her. Gaius entered quietly behind them. "Prince Arthur said he wants to see you when you come back."
"Arthur?" Merlin jumped, only now remembering that he hadn't told anyone, even Gwen, when he left, and that she had come and sat by his mother's side by her own. Gwen nodded. "Thank you for – being here," he said quietly. "I – "
"It's all right." She smiled. "I'll go now, I promised the Lady Morgana I'd tell her when you're back." Merlin stared at her. "You should go see Arthur," she added.
So he did. The truth was, he would have put off even meeting Arthur as long as he could if given the choice, so he wouldn't have to stand by – to make his decision too soon, but it was just like Arthur to rob him of that chance.
He found Arthur still sitting on his chair where he'd left him, sipping a drink, and was so nervous he almost missed the relief that flooded over his face.
"There you are," Arthur said, when he entered, and did nothing but stare at him.
Merlin carefully evaded his gaze.
"You... summoned me?" he said, doing his best to keep his voice neutral, and wishing, maybe for the first time, that he would have bothered learning that particular tone: it was decidedly useful, when one was a servant, but he'd never truly gotten around to seeing himself as such.
"Yes," said Arthur, still staring, then blinking as if chasing a thought away. "I need you to..."
There was a short pause, which was remarkable enough, because even if Arthur had clearly called him for no practical reason at all (because apparently, when he was worried for someone, like Gwen, like Morgana, he had them come to him to check on them), it still wasn't like him to be at a loss for a ridiculous task that needed to be done this very minute, in the middle of the night.
"Uh – wait," he said, and later he was going to wonder how he could have let this decision be made by the fact he wanted to avoid whatever stupid chore Arthur was about to throw at him. Arthur narrowed his eyes in displeasure at being interrupted, but he did wait and listen. "There's something I need to tell you." He paused, almost hoped the prince would interrupt him, but Arthur had chosen this very moment to be creepily attentive. "There's something... I've kept from you, this whole time. From everyone," he added, with a little more haste than advisable.
Arthur sighed, put his glass down, and stood up.
"There's really no need, Merlin," he said, and walked up to him.
"Er," said Merlin, fidgeting: there was something decidedly predatory in the way Arthur was stalking up to him. "I think –"
"It's all right," Arthur added, confidently, and stepped even closer, so that he almost touched him, and Merlin could feel his body's heat. "I know."
Merlin's mouth dropped open.
"You – what – how," he managed, with great effort.
"You were a bit obvious," Arthur said easily, and looked really smug.
"I – " Merlin began, and then Arthur kissed him. Thoroughly.
Merlin's thoughts got a little muddled at that point, because a good part of his brain was taken up by concentrating on Arthur's lips and Arthur's tongue and Arthur's mouth, and nothing had ever needed or deserved so much attention, and then Arthur drew back, hands Merlin hadn't even consciously noticed moving still resting on his backside and entangled in his hair, and raised his eyebrows at him questioningly. He was – grinning, not quite smiling, but close.
This gave Merlin a moment to think he really would rather not have gotten: he thought that this might make Arthur even angrier once he told him, and how he'd meant to come here with a clear resolution, and how Arthur was going to be even more unbearably self-important if he let him think that he was confessing he'd been pining for him for ages (which was true, admittedly, more so than Merlin had realised himself until this very moment, but that only made it worse), but then Arthur kissed him again, and he decided to worry about all that later.
He awoke from a half-dozing state, on his stomach in Arthur's bed, where they had ended up, eventually; Arthur was leaning on his side, lightly tracing over a bruise from one of their sparring sessions with a fascination that made Merlin seriously wonder about the real reason behind these: he was going to have to talk to Arthur about that, but maybe he'd wait until the whole him being hopelessly smitten and him being a sorcerer had blown over.
He glanced over at the prince, then looked back down.
"That – wasn't actually what I meant to tell you," he finally admitted.
Arthur's hand paused on his side, and from the corner of his eyes, Merlin could see him tense.
"No?" he asked; he sounded annoyed, and Merlin made a mental note to tell him that this didn't mean that wasn't true as well. Sometimes.
"I – " He rested his head on the side, so he could look at Arthur, then closed his eyes, because all things considered, he couldn't deal with it; he was feeling warm and comfortable and content, and it was hard to really believe his next words might shatter all this. "I tried to tell you before, but I never – and I swear, I never used it for anything but to help you, I'd never – "
"Merlin," Arthur snapped, impatient, hand tensing.
Merlin glanced back up and sighed deeply.
"I have magic," he said. "I'm a sorcerer."
There was a pause. Arthur's face was oddly blank, and then a strange, found smile appeared on the corner of his lips, and Merlin was about to ask him if he had even heard him, because he couldn't quite see how this could be in reaction to what he'd told him, when Arthur said, in a definite kind of tone:
"You're not."
"I – what? Yes I am!"
He couldn't believe he'd have to convince Arthur of this; and anyway, was the prince smirking?
"You can't even remember simple messages, you couldn't hunt down a deer if your life depended on it, let alone a mystical beast. There's no way anyone would believe you're a sorcerer, even less one powerful and skilled enough to defeat the questing beast." Arthur was looking very self-satisfied. "It was all me."
Merlin stared at him. And then stared some more.
"You," he eventually sputtered out, and sat up, and as realisation dawned, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to kiss Arthur or hit him. "You knew – "
"That's what I told you," said Arthur, looking up at him, from where he was still lying, naked, looking very relaxed, still with the insufferable grin on his face, but something soft in his eyes.
"How long?"
"There's no way you could have stood a chance in a fight with me without the use of dark, forbidden arts," Arthur said grandly. "Not that you did, as if was," he added, in an afterthought, and resumed his exploration of Merlin's battle bruises, this time with the tip his lips, starting right over Merlin's knee.
Merlin squirmed slightly under the tickling contact and stared at Arthur's bent head in disbelief: was he telling him that since the very first day!?...
"You're lying," he said flatly. Arthur briefly paused to glance up at him and narrowed his eyes at him.
"Any other important confessions you have to make?" he just asked, sharply, and Merlin thought that Arthur might not have been sure until the very moment he'd told him, and it was perfectly possible that he was never going to know; and also, that somehow Arthur managed to be a prat even when he was being nice, and that he probably wasn't going to have him executed, or even exiled or put under constant surveillance, and things didn't look all that bad, especially when Arthur stopped lightly circling his bruises, and moved to seriously licking and kissing up his upper tight..
"I – actually," Merlin began, uncomfortably, because technically, there were.
"Is there a reason," said Arthur, who was looking slightly irritated ever since Merlin had accused him of lying, "that I absolutely have to know before...?"
"Before w –" Arthur moved to push himself him up against his hip in a way that could not be good for his injured arm, and pointedly moved closer in direction of his groin. "Oh. No. I don't think so."
