Arthur never had any friends.
No real friends, at least.
Everyone knew who he was, the power he had, the power he will have. They were all and are still nothing but fakes; beings wearing thick masks, to hide the ugliness underneath.
So, Arthur made his own friend. He made him the first day he began training with Sir Leon. His mentor asked, "Prince Arthur, to whom are you talking?"
The prince looked at the man, his face beaming as he said. "This is my friend Merlin."
The older man smiled at the young royal, happy to play along with Arthur's active imagination, the sign of a good, sharp mind.
"It is pleasure to meet you, Sir Merlin," the knight said, kneeling down to 'shake' the hand of his imaginary friend.
He was surprised when the prince frowned. "He's not a noble, he's my manservant," the young boy huffed, before stalking off towards the castle.
A year later, the Prince awoke in a beading sweat, feeling the terrible burn in the back of his eyes as his magic awakened for the first time.
Merlin was there again to comfort him. The only one, to comfort him. The prince cried on his shoulder, distraught with the thought that he could have magic. That he was evil, vile, cruel. It would only be a matter of time until he would be corrupted with this unnatural power.
How long until someone finds out? How long until his father sees the glow in his eyes? When will it be his time to be burned at the pyre?
But Merlin, his dear friend Merlin, told him everything was going to be okay. That it wasn't Arthur that had the vile magic, but himself, the manservant.
Arthur smiled accepting that.
Arthur kept Merlin in his room, from that point on. Merlin was his only friend; Merlin also had magic. He couldn't risk someone finding out about Merlin and losing his only friend. The only two who knew of his companion were Sir Leon and Gaius the physician, the latter also knowing about Merlin's incredible power. The old man smiled at the Prince; a sad, sorrowful smile.
Years later, Arthur and Merlin had a plan to introduce the servant to his father, so that he could come out of hiding and become the prince's own manservant. Using his magic, Merlin released the chandelier hitting the witch, and pulling the Prince away when a dagger was thrown towards his heart.
The King gave him a sad, depressing smile, as did half the court, as the Monarch gave him the position as Arthur's manservant. He never did ask why.
Then, Arthur began forgetting things. He would be hunting in the woods with Merlin, and then minutes later find himself lying on the ground. Bandits, the Prince would later recall what his manservant had told him with a grinning smile. Bandits had attacked them both and knocked the Prince unconscious.
Those lapses in time would always be sudden, and as the months dragged by, longer. One time, the Prince was enjoying the gentle, cool autumn weather only to blink, and find the first signs of spring.
He had a fever? The royal questioned as he digested the servant's words. He couldn't remember becoming sick…
The weeks went on just like that.
Arthur would rise out of bed, searching for his boots and clothing. He would blink, to find himself standing, already clothed, and even a breakfast waiting for him on the table. The Prince would laugh, berating the manservant. He was supposed to have that all ready before the royal was up, not after!
The idiot was always late for work, he should fire him someday for that. But then,the other youth would smile at him with that stupid grin, even call him a name or two. What was a clot pole? ...and Arthur would remember the one true friend he had.
And, it wasn't until one terrible night, when a giant monster-a dragon-had risen from hell itself and began engulfing the city in flames did Arthur really, truly learn what a precious friend he had.
Merlin was silent the entire journey to find the last Dragon Lord, the youth avoiding the royal's gaze the entire time.
"What's wrong?" the royal asked him. The manservant simply shook his head, telling the royal that he had done a terrible thing. Arthur understood, he didn't know how but he thought he knew, and nothing more was said.
Days later, when the Last Dragon Lord lay dying in the prince's arms, one of his hands clutching the wooden carving of the nightmare that was now plaguing his city, it was Merlin who accepted all his pain and wiped away his tears.
No, Balinor wasn't his father, his mother hadn't cheated on the King, the royal realized as he listened to the manservant's words. Merlin made sense of it all. He always made sense of it all, so the royal smiled at Merlin's words.
Balinor was Merlin's father, not Arthur's, and Hunith was Merlin's mother from a village far away. They met during the Great Purge.
Merlin was the one with magic, not Arthur, so why had the last Dragon Lord told the young prince that he was the one inheriting the powers? He must have simply gone insane with his isolation.
Arthur laid the dead sorcerer to rest, looking at Merlin with the saddest, the most grateful smile he could manage.
Merlin had saved him again, as he always did.
Merlin, his one and only friend.