A/N: Hello all! This is a result of a 3 am plot bunny that I typed out in the notes app on my phone while lying in bed last night. It's the first one-shot that I have ever written and I'm actually pretty happy with it :)

To all of those who are reading my Merlin/Sherlock crossover fic I want to apologize for taking so long with the next chapter. I promise you that I am Not Dead and that I will be writing and posting it this week. I am really truly sorry for the long wait, but I hope you accept this story as my peace offering.

To everybody else, I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

This takes place very early in Season 1. Like maybe only one or two episodes in. I also want to point out that I know Merlin killed Mary Collins in the first episode, but I feel as though dropping a chandelier on someone across the room is very different to actually taking a blade and killing another person up close.

Warnings: Possibly poetic descriptions of killing/death.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Arthur wiped the blade of his sword on the dewy grass at his feel. Cleaning of off the fresh blood that stained the gleaming metal. It had just been another patrol. Normal and slightly boring; if not for the group of bandits that had come out of nowhere, swords flailing and mouths yelling battle cries that were really more like battle warbles. The patrol had taken care of them easily enough. There were a few minor scrapes and bruises, but nothing to get excited about. Arthur found himself glancing at his manservant out of the corner of his eye; just as he had often found himself doing as of late.

Merlin was standing in front of the body of one of the now-dead bandits. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his head was bowed. The black haired boy's cerulean eyes were fixed on the body in front of him with a calm intensity; as if he were contemplating something heavily.

Arthur wondered what it could be that had captured his new manservant's attention so. The prince quickly ran through the current events of the morning, looking for a clue as to the younger boys' behavior.

The morning started normal enough. Merlin had been late as usual, but not overly so. Merlin had been his manservant from almost a month now, and was finally starting to get used to Arthur's morning routine.

It was strange to think that he had only known Merlin for a month. Already it was starting to get hard to remember a time when he didn't know the goofy idiot. Sometimes he found himself forgetting that Merlin hadn't always been in his life, and that the younger boy wasn't really used to the duties and responsibilities that Arthur was subjected to daily.

Belatedly, Arthur realized that this was the first time Merlin had accompanied Arthur on a patrol. Normally, castle staff wasn't allowed to tag along with Knights when there were off doing Knight-y things. But Merlin had just seemed to assume he was coming along, and for some reason Arthur hadn't thought to correct him. It had gotten a few raised eyebrows from the other Knights on patrol, but when they saw that their prince wasn't going to say anything, they decided to let it go out of their respect for him.

Now though, Arthur was starting to realized that maybe he should have said something. As he continued to watch Merlin gaze contemplatively at the dead man before him, Arthur had a sudden flash from the battle that had happened moments before. During the fight, Arthur had kept Merlin in his periphery, trying to make sure the clumsy oaf had stayed out of the way of any errant swords. Of course Merlin would attract the attention of one particularly brutish bandit, but Arthur needn't have worried. He remembered Merlin picking up a dagger from the ground and using it to defend himself. Defend himself from the very same bandit that was lying dead before him now.

Oh.

Arthur felt a wash of what almost felt like concern well up within him. Merlin had never been in a battle before. He had probably never have had to defend himself against an attacker. And he had most likely never killed another man previous to now.

Oh.

He remembered his first battle, a minor skirmish not dissimilar to this most recent one. He remembered the first time he felt his blade cut deep into the soft flesh of another human. He remembered seeing the light of life fade out of the eyes of his opponent. He remembered the bile that rose in his throat and the stinging behind his eyes even as he remembered pushing it down because princes were strong and didn't cry. Nevertheless he had been shaky and pale and silent for the rest of the patrol. It wasn't until Leon had taken him aside later that day and sat and talked with him a while that the shock of it all had started to wear off. He remembered a few days later when he had finally come to terms with what he had done and had finally accepted that it had been necessary for the protection of himself and his people. It wasn't an easy conclusion to reach, but one well worth reaching; for the next time killing had been unavoidable, it was slightly easier to process.

Looking at Merlin now – so silent and still, yet his eyes so intense and pondering – Arthur didn't know whether to feel impressed or worried.

On one hand, the control this seemingly simple peasant had over his emotions was truly astounding. Thinking back to his own reaction, Arthur couldn't help but wonder how Merlin was handling this so stoically. True, there was a tumult of emotions in the dark haired boy's eyes, so twisted and convoluted that Arthur had no real hope of deciphering them. But still, the prince was impressed that the younger boy hadn't fainted right off. It was something he had almost expected now that he was thinking about it.

But then, that is exactly why he was somewhat worried. Because it was entirely possible le that Merlin has in shock, or perhaps internalizing his emotions in such a way that they had potential to hurt him even more later.

Merlin was a kind soul. Perhaps the kindest person that Arthur had ever met. Ever since he had arrived in Camelot, Merlin was constantly smiling that goofy smile of his at any and everyone. Arthur had witnessed his manservant go out of his way to help and acquaintance he had only just met. Or stop and give a few coins to one of the poorer kids wandering around town. Or even just grinning and making jokes with the children throwing vegetables at him when he was in the stocks. Well, Merlin certainly wasn't grinning now.

Granted, he wasn't frowning either, but that was part of what had led him back to the possible shock that Merlin might be currently experiencing.

Arthur remembered how Leon had been there to help him through his own convoluted emotions the first time he had killed another person. But who did Merlin have? Arthur supposed he had Gaius, but the older physician, while wise, most likely wouldn't completely understand what his ward was going through.

Arthur on the other hand…

Watching Merlin now, Arthur felt an almost sort of guilt build inside of him. He didn't really want to go over and talk to Merlin, because he was a prince and princes don't comfort their menservants. However, it really was Arthur's fault that Merlin was out here in the first place. And Arthur knew that Merlin would probably take the bandits death to heart and beat himself up about it silently unless somebody did something. There was always Leon. Arthur thought for a moment of asking the older knight to talk to Merlin. But Merlin didn't know Leon that well, and might not respond to his words as he would Arthur's. Not to mention that as Arthur's manservant, Merlin was also Arthur's responsibility.

It wasn't like Arthur had never dealt with post-battle-shock before. But somehow it was different to see its possibility in Merlin, who wasn't a Knight, and was never meant to have to defend himself in the first place. That same guilt again made itself known, forming a shallow pit in his stomach before he could push it away. Having come to a decision, the prince still didn't particularly want the other Knights to see him helping is manservant.

For a minute the blond haired prince concentrated on making sure his blade was clean and the rest of his patrol was off doing other things, keeping Merlin in the corner of his eye the entire time. Once he was sure that the other Knights were all otherwise occupied (and more importantly, weren't paying any attention to Arthur), he sighed and softly made his way to stand by his (for once) silent manservant.

Merlin didn't seem to notice his approach, engrossed as he was with the dead bandit before him. After another minute of continued silence, Arthur hesitantly reached his hand up and placed it softly on the younger boy's shoulder.

Merlin didn't flinch like Arthur had expected him to, making him wonder if maybe Merlin was more aware of his presence than he had previously thought. The boys' raven haired head raised and bright, blue, unreadable eyes met the prince's evenly. And it was Arthur who almost flinched at the poignancy of the gaze. After a few seconds, those same intense blue eyes dropped back to the body in front of him.

Seeing that he would have to be the one to initiate any form of dialogue, Arthur nervously cleared his throat, which again brought Merlin's eyes up to meet his, this time with a quiet question lying within them.

Arthur didn't' quite know where to start, but finally decided on a generic: "Alright Merlin?"

Merlin held his gaze for a few seconds before looking back down again. After a minute had passed and Arthur had started to wonder if Merlin was going to answer him at all, the dark haired boy said in a surprisingly steady voice, "Yeah, I think so."

One of Arthur's eyebrows arched in a subtle incredulity. "This is the first time you've ever killed anyone." It was a statement, not a question.

Merlin gave a short, sharp nod.

"Well, you're handling it surprisingly well." Arthur was still unsure if Merlin was in shock or not. He didn't think so. Having trained his fair share of new recruits, he knew what the shock of a first battle looked like. Just like he knew what to say in order to diffuse that shock, as Leon had done for him. With Merlin though, it was different. It was something Arthur had never quite seen before. This quiet, still, thoughtful atmosphere that had settled over the black haired boy next to him like a cloak; Arthur wasn't quite sure what it was, but he was slightly wary of how to proceed, or how to draw Merlin out of it. The answer, however, was taken out of his hands when almost two minutes later Merlin looked back into his eyes and began to speak.

"I hate it." The words were quiet, with hardly any emotion present. They were contemplative, and carefully thought out. As if he had first chewed on each word before letting it out slowly.

When Merlin said nothing else, Arthur decided that even though he had a pretty good idea what it was Merlin hated, he still needed a way to get his manservant to keep talking. So he asked, "What?"

"Killing," Merlin elaborated needlessly, "I hate killing."

Again Merlin fell silent. And just when Arthur was starting to wonder whether or not he was going to have t drag each and every word out of the idiot, the boy in question continued to speak.

"I keep seeing and feeling it over and over. The blade sinking in, the blood on my hands. I saw the light leave his eyes and the life leave his body. This man before me now is dead by my hand. I have shed blood that while not innocent, was not mine to shed."

Merlin said all of this with little emotion, as if he were stating the facts as he saw them. Arthur couldn't help but wonder what Merlin was going to say next. He was riveted on the piercing gaze of the boy next to him.

"It makes me feel like I have done some unforgivable crime. As if my life had been tainted and my soul stained by the life I have just taken. I feel as though I myself should be punished for the deed I have committed. For the sanctity of life that I stamped into the dust and fed to the wind as if it was nothing but an inconsequential insect for me to abolish from the earth. A life that I have forced to fade into ephemera, nothing but a memory lost in a raging sea of tormented souls."

Arthur wondered how Merlin could make killing another person sound so poetic. How he could put into words the same thoughts that Arthur had let plague him sometimes late at night when he had had a sip too much to drink. Not enough to eliminate thought altogether, but too much to make the lingering regrets easy to push away.

"I feel like I have committed and unforgivable act." Merlin continued, "That I have been branded as something that doesn't deserve to live because it didn't give the same courtesy to another. A monster."

Immediately, Arthur opened his mouth to deny Merlin's claim. It was exactly these types of thoughts that he had been worried Merlin would harbor. They could not be more untrue, and Arthur wasn't going to let Merlin believe them. However, Merlin's next words stopped his own dead in his mouth. Somehow, Arthur knew that what Merlin was going to say would be important to listen to, and possibly have a greater impact than he could possibly imagine.

"And that's good." Merlin looked resolved, and even had the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's good because feeling like a monster only serves to prove that I am not one. For monsters do not hold remorse. They do not regret their actions. They enjoy the pain that is inflicted upon others and relish in its existence. It is a good thing to feel regret, and pain, and that feeling like you are about to lose your lunch; because if you didn't feel those things, then you would truly be something despicable. It is those who refuse to let themselves feel remorse for their actions that become cruel and cold and heartless. They are the ones who can kill scores of innocents and then sit down to dinner as though nothing happened. They are the inhumane, the monsters."

Merlin fixed his gaze solidly upon Arthur, speaking directly to him now, "Hating the thought of killing another human being makes you human yourself. Feeling as though I am a monster proves that I am not one." Here Merlin let out a bright smile. Happiness at this revelation seemed to exude from his small frame; as if he had been previously worried that he was a monster, but was now overjoyed to find proof of that thought's falsity. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arthur was vaguely aware that his mouth may have dropped open just slightly. But Merlin wasn't done yet.

"Feeling sick because you have taken a life does not make you a weak person, Arthur. Remember that. It is that pain that should give you the peace you need to know that you did the right thing. It is what gives me the peace to know that I acted in the defense of myself and the people I care about. I still mourn the loss of a wasted life, but I refuse to feel ashamed for protecting me, my family, or my friends from harm."

Now Merlin really smiled in earnest, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He put a hand out to softly rest on Arthur's shoulder, "So yeah, Arthur, I'm alright. Thank you." Merlin squeezed Arthur's shoulder once before removing his hand and walking back towards the horses, not even casting a backward glance at the dead bandit still lying on the ground.

To say Arthur was shocked by his manservant's words would have been a bit of an understatement. He was still processing when he somehow managed to find the presence of mind to ask, "For what?"

Merlin turned around so he was walking backwards briefly and called, "For asking, caring, listening… Take your pick," before turning around once again.

Arthur watched with incredulous eyes as his manservant stumbled and just barely managed to catch himself before he hit the dirt. The boy was a walking, talking contradiction. A variety of personalities all wrapped into one confusing package. One second he was an innocent, slightly goofy servant, the next he was spouting wisdom and advice as none but ht old and battle-weary could, and the next he was again tripping over his own feet. How that conversation had turned from Arthur planning to help his possibly-in-shock manservant, into that same manservant giving Arthur advice (advice that was already helping to clean his conscience of guilt he didn't even know he carried) Arthur would never know.

Merlin had done a better job coming to terms with the more unpleasant side of war in just minutes than Arthur had done in years. It was in these very rare moments, when the other, deeper side of Merlin broke through the idiotic exterior that Arthur couldn't help but find himself thinking that maybe Merlin was meant to be more than just a servant. That he was just something more.

Something that was incredibly loyal, kind, and caring. Yet also something that would go to any length, or do any deed necessary to protect those he cared about. Something that would kill without mercy, then turn around to mourn and build the funeral pyre for those lives he had taken. Something with a hidden power so strong it could level mountains and raze cities, yet would only be used to help and heal and protect. Something terrifying but gentle, hard but soft, ruthless but kind. Something with the wisdom of an old man with the innocence of a child. An oxymoron, a contradiction, a tangled web of paradoxes so convoluted you wouldn't be able to tell the beginning from the end.

Arthur watched as Merlin attempted to vault into his saddle only to slip on a slick patch of mud and land solidly on his back with an oomph. He rolled his eyes at the other Knights' resulting chuckles and saw Merlin grin himself. Yes, he was definitely something…

A/N: Why is it that something that is so long in a Word Document looks so short on ? Anyway, I hope you liked it!

Please please please review! I know that begging for reviews only shows weakness, but I'm not Arthur so I don't particularly care. :) God bless you all and I hope you have a great day!