A/N: As the description says, this story is a companion to Blind Trust, and contains MAJOR spoilers. I suggest reading it first, or else a lot of this story will be confusing and out of context. This is essentially a re-write of chapters 6 and 7 from Merlin's point of view, so if you have any plans on reading Blind Trust, do that first.

I will talk more about this story at the end. For now, happy reading!

DISCLAIMER: I am not the proud owner of Merlin.

Merlin woke with a start, jerking up slightly in panic before he realized he was alone in his small room. He had been on edge for a week, ever since he, Arthur and the others fled Camelot; being on the run had not been good to his nerves, and going to sleep every night fearing that he might wake up in enemy hands had taken its toll on him. He wondered how long it would be before he could sleep soundly again without feeling vulnerable and unsafe.

This time, however, he thought it might also have been bad dreams that woke him, and it wasn't hard to guess what they were about. Morgana's hunched form shielding her sister's body hadn't quite left his mind yet, and her screams had haunted him all night. He had felt the sheer force of her desperation in those shrieks, felt the power they held in his very core, felt his own magic reacting. It had been like a kick to his gut, a reminder of everything that had gone wrong, everything he had done wrong in trying to help her. He was the reason she had ended up there, crouching over her unconscious sister with the crown of Camelot on her head, screaming her pain to the world until the world responded around her. It was all his fault, every last bit of it, and the guilt was constantly gnawing at the edges of his mind.

Merlin groaned and fell back on his pillow. The last thing he wanted right now was to be thinking about Morgana and the whole fiasco in the throne room. He had gotten back rather late the night before after hiding the sword in the stone, and upon returning he had gone straight to bed, exhausted and ready to pass out. He'd even brushed off Gaius, who'd been trying to talk to him about some conversation with Arthur, and insisted that they could discuss it after he slept. He felt slightly guilty about that, since Gaius had seemed rather intent about it, but he had been much too tired to deal with anything new.

Merlin looked at his window; the sun was only just rising and the smallest bit of light was visible above the roofs. It was still early, and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. He lay there for a while longer, trying very hard to relax and lose consciousness, but it was no good; he was wide awake, and no matter how tired he may be, echos of Morgana's screams prevented him from losing consciousness. He groaned again softly and pulled himself up out of bed, stretching. He pulled on a shirt and some breeches and headed for the door, quietly peeking out to see if Gaius was up yet. The room was silent, so he grabbed his boots and carefully went down the stairs, trying not to make much noise.

Gaius was asleep on his bed, for once looking his age; if the last week had been bad for Merlin, he was sure that it had been much worse for his elderly mentor. He remembered his promise to speak with Gaius about Arthur, and for a moment he considered waking him. But he knew he could never bring himself to deprive the old man of his much-needed slumber, so he decided it could wait until later. In the meantime, he pulled on his boots and headed out of the physician's chambers and into the hall.

It was a minute later when it occurred to him that he had made no conscious decision to go to Arthur's chambers, and yet that was where his feet were now taking him. He felt the familiarity of the route and was comforted by it; he was more than ready for everything to return to normal, and to try and forget the week of fear and betrayal that had plagued them all. He continued at a steady pace, barely noticing how few people were out despite the increasing brightness outside.

Unfortunately, his path took him past the one place he did not wish to be; he chose not to divert his route, thinking he could simply walk by and ignore it. But as Merlin reached the entryway to the throne room, he couldn't help but pause to glance in. He took in the dust-covered rocks and floor, the dark soot stains from the soldiers, the wall he was thrown against by Morgause. His hand went to his shoulder as he remembered the fight, and he stayed only a second longer before forcing his legs to continue. They took him away from the destroyed room and towards the safety and comfort of Arthur's chambers.

He walked down the hall towards the door, remembering only now that it was a bit earlier than usual; without breaking pace, however, he decided that Arthur could use the head start, considering he had a whole kingdom to put back together. He only hoped that the prince would let him get through explaining that before a goblet was thrown at the servant's head. But when Merlin reached the door, he found that it was partially open already; feeling something stir deep in his stomach, he pushed open the door and peered into the dark room, fearing what he might find.

Arthur's bed was empty.

Merlin tried to hold down the panic that rose in his throat. Why wasn't he here? Where else could he be? He was never up this early, he was always asleep in bed, oblivious to anything happening around him. What if something had happened? Maybe one of Morgause's men had remained and waited to strike at the prince. What if Morgana had come back for revenge and taken Arthur? Merlin's mind was spinning thinking of all the things that could have happened. He rushed over to the bed, feeling the splayed covers. They were cold; no one had been there for hours. He looked around at the recently cleaned room, but everything was neat and orderly, nothing to suggest a struggle. He thought for a moment, then went over to the wardrobe and looked inside.

The panic subsided as he saw that one of Arthur's favorite shirts was missing as well. He knew the prince well enough to assume that Arthur must have gotten up himself for some reason and dressed to go out. A kidnapper would not have taken the time to grab a shirt before going, and everything in the room pointed to Arthur leaving on his own terms. He had probably gone on a walk or some odd errand, and although Merlin couldn't think of what might have drawn him out of bed, he was at least sure that there was no danger.

All the same, he couldn't help but feel a little worried, and he realized it wouldn't go away until he knew Arthur was alright. He was too restless to sit and wait, so he decided to calm his nerves by doing some chores. He made the bed and went to get some laundry to fold. It only took him a few minutes to head down to the laundry room and back, but he had just begun to fold some shirts when he heard the door open. His head whipped around, and he felt all his fears melt away as soon as he saw the blonde hair.

Blonde hair which then came to an abrupt stop in the doorway when it saw Merlin.

That's right, he thought, you're in trouble now. But he paused before he voiced his thoughts, sensing something strange about the prince's mood that made him hold back the sarcasm. Instead, he contained his relief and asked a basic question.

"Where have you been?"

He was relieved to see Arthur shoot him a look as he continued into the room, the strange feeling gone as Arthur muttered, "You're up bright and early today, Merlin."

Merlin allowed his features to relax, smiling at the comment. It seemed that there was nothing to worry about after all, just the prince's usual early-morning grumpiness. He held no sarcasm back this time.

"I could say the same for you. Do you usually go for a nighttime stroll, and then sneak back into bed before I get here?"

"I couldn't sleep," Arthur grunted, unamused.

"Well, isn't that specific," Merlin threw back, feeling a vague desire to punish Arthur for making him panic. "'Oh, I couldn't sleep.' So what, you decided to go visit the horses? Rather unusual method of dealing with insomnia, don't you think?"

"I don't have insomnia," Arthur said in an irritated voice as he went to look out the window.

"Sure," Merlin said, again with a strange sense that something was off, but ignoring it. "Whatever you say. Although I suppose it could be other causes…" He thought for a moment, trying to think of what to say, wanting to fill the space between them with chatter to avoid the whatever-it-was that hung in the air. "Maybe you're anxious, or stressed," he tried, and hearing Arthur mutter something back, was encouraged to continue. "Which would be entirely explainable, considering everything that's been going on. Or maybe you're having nightmares and you're trying to make them stop. Or-"

"You would know about nightmares, wouldn't you, Merlin?"

That took him by surprise, and he stopped, not understanding what the prince was trying to suggest. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Without looking at him, Arthur said, "I mean Morgana." There was a split second in which Merlin's mind turned to his own dreams, plagued by guilt and screaming and regret. Then Arthur added, "And her nightmares."

Oh. Merlin had a moment of relief as he realized Arthur hadn't been referring to his involvement in her betrayal. And then his mind registered what Arthur had said, and he froze, realizing the implications.

Oh.

It was silent, and realizing that Arthur wasn't continuing, he tried to hide his discomfort. "I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"I understand," said Arthur slowly, still not turning, "that they became a bit… serious."

Merlin didn't know how to respond to this, and sensing that he had nothing to say, Arthur continued.

"Especially when they caused her to have magical outbursts at night."

Merlin couldn't breathe. Arthur knew about the magic. Where had he found out about the magic? How was Merlin supposed to respond in a situation like this without incriminating himself?

Arthur had finally turned away from the window in order to stare directly at Merlin, waiting for a response. Merlin scrambled for something to say, anything to avoid this, to at least delay the information.

After a few more moments of silence, he carefully began, "I wouldn't know, Gaius is the one wh-"

"I don't want to hear it," Arthur snapped, not bothering to let him finish. "I don't want any excuses or lies anymore. I am sick of it all."

Merlin felt trapped. If he could just calm Arthur down, he thought desperately, maybe he could convince him to let it go. "Arthur-"

"No, Merlin, I mean it!" Merlin swallowed when he realized just how angry Arthur was. "You happen to be one of the people I trust most, the one whose advice I take nearly as seriously as that of my own father. I spend all my time with you and talk to you about my worries or fears in a way that I barely talk to anyone else about. I trust you beyond almost anyone else, Merlin, and after all we've been through together… I thought maybe you might reciprocate that trust." Merlin was extremely uncomfortable; Arthur would never normally admit to half of these things if he was at all composed. And he was worried about where this was going.

"So how do you think it feels when I realize just how little you tell me about?"

That was a harsh blow. Lying to Arthur had always been one of the worst parts of being a sorcerer, and having Arthur actually call him on it to his face was enough to make Merlin feel awful.

Arthur's angry outburst continued. "First you sneak off during the main battle on a suicide mission and refuse to tell anyone, especially me, for reasons I couldn't possibly understand, and you somehow manage to single-handedly save the whole kingdom and incapacitate Morgause-"

"You think I did that?" Merlin interrupted the yelling, an automatic attempt at trying to salvage the situation. Inside, his mind was in an alarmed frenzy, thinking, he can't know, he can't know, he can't know. How did Arthur know about all of this? How could he explain this one, how could he stop Arthur from suspecting? His mind shot to the memory of the throne room, and he came up with a name. "Lancelot-"

"Lancelot was wounded and on the ground, Merlin, leaving you and Gaius, and I doubt Gaius could have done a whole lot against immortal knights and a powerful sorceress."

Merlin was so trained in avoiding suspicion surrounding his magic that the lies came as easily and automatically as if he actually believed them. "What, and I could? You're the one who always says I'm a weakling, that I'm useless, that I hide during fights." It barely registered in his mind that he was indirectly calling himself a coward. "And now you think I beat Morgause in a fight?"

"I'm not seeing any alternatives here, Merlin, and I've been realizing lately that there's a lot I don't know about you. Like why, for instance, you decided to take it upon yourself to save everyone. We have a band of knights, for God's sake, why not let one of them go after the cup and empty it? Why not even tell any of us?"

"Wait," Merlin said, feeling completely lost; where was Arthur getting all this information? "How did you know about the cup?"

For a moment, it looked like Arthur wasn't going to respond, until he admitted, "The night before, in the old castle. I heard you and Lancelot. And your intimate conversation."

Merlin wondered briefly at the use of the term 'intimate', before he realized which conversation he was referring to. Merlin remembered it well. He remembered clearly how Lancelot had asked what his secret plan was, and how he had said he was going to empty the cup and destroy the army, and how Arthur couldn't know. He remembered, very clearly, mentioning that he had magic.

Arthur knew that he had magic.

"You…" Merlin wasn't sure what to say, as his insides dissolved into blank shock. "You heard…"

"Yes Merlin," Arthur continued, unrelenting, "I did. And I would like to know exactly what it is that makes you think you can withhold vital information, like the fact that the army could be destroyed, and instead take it upon yourself to attempt."

Why wasn't he having Merlin thrown in the dungeons? Why hadn't he accused him of being a sorcerer? Maybe he didn't know. Maybe, somehow, he hadn't heard that detail, the part where Merlin had said he had magic. "If you knew what I was doing the night before, then why didn't you stop me? Or say something? Demand answers?"

Arthur gave him a disparaging look. "I'm demanding answers now, in case you hadn't noticed, idiot. And if you must know, I decided to let you do whatever it was you thought you were doing. Because I trusted you. Even after listening to you tell Lancelot to keep secrets from me, I still trusted you." Arthur paused, and remembering how the prince had described the conversation as 'intimate', Merlin realized that maybe he was jealous of Lancelot. "And so I let you go off, trusting that you knew what you were doing, and I was right, wasn't I? You somehow emptied the cup and triumphed over Morgause."

Merlin was a mix of emotions. It seemed that Arthur didn't know about his magic; he was immensely relieved, but also slightly... disappointed? And Arthur's accusations were really very true, and it hurt Merlin to have to deny them. He understood how Arthur must feel, to be trusting but not trusted, and it made him feel awful to know there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't trust Arthur.

...Could he?

"Maybe," Arthur continued, oblivious to his internal storm, "I should have been bothered that you hadn't trusted me, that you hadn't deemed me worthy of knowing everything! After Morgana, you'd think I would be done trusting people. But somehow, I couldn't bring myself to consider you a threat. Hell, if it weren't for you, I'd still be wallowing in a cave somewhere! So yes, I blindly trusted you, because I value loyalty. But now I'm sick and tired of secrets and guile and pretending. I just want the truth!"

The truth. What a twisted, vile world it was that Merlin couldn't give his friend the one thing he asked for, no matter how much he wanted to. Truth was something Merlin had been trained to avoid his whole life, instead lying and pretending to be somebody else, something else. It was the one thing he could not give, and yet it was the one thing that could now save his destiny. After all, if Arthur gave up on him, what would be left of him? What purpose would he serve?

Arthur had run out of things to say, or perhaps finally decided to wait for an answer. It left the room painfully silent, with not a word passing between them, their eyes searching each other's for answers that could not be found.

After a while, Merlin couldn't take the silence anymore. He tried to think of something to say the could satisfy Arthur, at least until he thought of a better solution. "I do trust you, Arthur," he said, carefully phrasing his words so as not to further anger the prince. "But there are some things I can't tell are some things I can't tell anyone."

"You seem to have told Lancelot," Arthur shot back. "And Gaius is in on it, too."

There it was again. Merlin wondered if Arthur realized how many times he had brought up Lancelot; whether the prince was aware or not, the knight's involvement seemed to be a major cause of Arthur's anger. A part of him dearly wanted to point out that maybe he trusted Lancelot more than Arthur because the knight was far less likely to have Merlin's head chopped off, but he knew he couldn't say that without revealing his magic.

"They both found out by accident," he said, shaking his head to emphasize his point. "That wasn't my choice."

Unfortunately, it didn't make Arthur feel any better. "What could possibly be so bad, so important, that you can't tell anyone? That you can't even tell me?"

His voice was shaking in his frustration, and it occurred to Merlin that he might not be able to lie his way out of this one. There was nothing he could say to make Arthur forget about it, no innocent explanation that could make sense of everything. He was trapped, and he had no clever way out. All that was left was denial or the truth, and the former obviously wasn't working. That left only one way forward, but it was the one way he couldn't go. He couldn't tell Arthur the truth, it was too risky. At the moment, their trust was at the tipping point, teetering on the edge of oblivion; but admitting to Arthur that he had magic would no doubt send them hurtling over that edge with no way back. Their friendship would be broken, and for Merlin, it would mean no more Camelot, no more protecting, and no more destiny.

It would be the end of everything, and that was what made Merlin sure that he had to keep it a secret.

"I... I just can't," he said, wishing with all his heart that he could. "You wouldn't understand. And you'd probably hate me."

"You can't know that!"

Merlin sighed. "I can't take that risk right now, however much I would like to-"

"So you're refusing to trust me again."

Merlin couldn't help wincing at that, because it was true. He couldn't trust Arthur in this instance, despite what Lancelot and Gaius said. It wasn't just that he wouldn't; he couldn't.

"Why can't you just agree to trust me for once, like I trusted you?" Arthur said, sounding like he was trying to restrain his temper. "Nothing could possibly be bad enough that it would turn me against you. You are... the most loyal friend I have. And I would never forget that."

Merlin felt a surge of pride and hope, but he pushed the feelings away. Arthur didn't know how serious Merlin's crime was, and there was no way he could ever accept magic.

"It doesn't matter what secrets you might have, I still know you and I know what kind of a man you are," Arthur continued. "So what makes you think I could ever hate you? You could have killed someone and I wouldn't judge you. Hell, at this point you could have magic and I probably wouldn't even mind-"

Merlin barely even heard him finish the sentence. His mind had gone blank with shock, and his body had jolted as though hit with a lightening bolt. He struggled to make sense of what he had just heard.

"What?" Arthur asked, staring at Merlin, surprised by his violent movement.

Had he really just said…?

But… this was Arthur, he wouldn't have…

"Since when do you talk about magic like it's nothing?" he gasped out, barely remembering to try and contain his reaction.

On the other hand, Arthur was hardly fazed, and spoke dismissively as though he had better things to be talking about. "Look, I know how you feel about magic, but I think we've been wrong about it. All this time, and I thought it was evil... But it would appear that I am rather alone in that belief."

It was too much for Merlin to take in. What did he mean, 'I know how you feel about magic'? Did he assume Merlin also hated it, or thought it was evil? And when did Arthur change his mind? How did he change his mind? What could possibly have made him forgo a lifetime of learning against magic in such a short period of time?

Arthur was talking again, already moving on from the topic, but Merlin hardly heard and spoke over him.

"You think magic is good?"

"Sort of," Arthur said, acting like he wanted to get this part of the conversation over with. "I was wrong, okay? I was wrong, my father was wrong, we were all wrong about it. It's not strictly evil, I now have reason to believe it can be used for good by the right people. I know it may be too confusing for your idiotic head, and I don't expect you to understand or agree right now-"

"You'd be surprised," Merlin muttered, but Arthur didn't seem to hear him and kept talking. Merlin stood there, thinking about this new knowledge, oblivious to the fact that Arthur had stopped speaking until he snapped.

"Merlin!"

"What?"

"What is the matter with you?"

Oh, nothing, it's only that my whole world was just been flipped on its head, he thought scathingly. "Nothing," he said aloud, hoping he didn't sound too defensive. He turned away from Arthur, wanting some peace from the interrogation, and began to straighten the bedsheets, even though he'd already done so before Arthur arrived.

"Then why can't you give me a straight answer?"

Arthur wasn't letting up, and Merlin didn't know what to say anymore. He needed time to think, to sort out his thoughts, figure out what all of this meant.

"I…" He wasn't sure what to say. "I just can't."

"That's not a reasonable answer and you know it! I'm your prince, your friend, of course you can tell me." He was really yelling now, and it was making Merlin's head start to pound. "Nothing could be so bad that-"

"Couldn't it?"

He was really getting a headache now, and he just wanted to go somewhere quiet. The panic and fear and confusion and worry were taking a toll on him, and he suddenly felt tired. Arthur had stopped talking at his comment, and he hoped it would stay that way for a while. Really, he was praying that the prince would just let it go for the moment.

Unfortunately, Arthur was far from giving up. "Merlin," he yelled, making the servant's head throb, "I demand to-"

He never got to finish, because right at that moment, there was a loud crashing sound as Merlin felt his magic flare up. The warlock spun around, but he didn't have to see the broken vase to know what had happened.

He had lost control. He had used magic.

In front of Arthur.

His mind was filled with horror as he watched Arthur turn to look at the vase in confusion, and then turn back to look at Merlin.

He didn't think. He just ran. He fled for the door, running out of the room and down the hall as fast as he could. He may have even slowed down time a bit by accident; he couldn't tell through the haze of panic and head pounding that clouded his thoughts. He just ran, knowing he had to find somewhere quiet to calm down, somewhere Arthur couldn't find him. He needed space, he needed air. With that in mind, his feet found a direction, no longer fleeing aimlessly. He lengthened his stride, the thought of reaching his destination blocking out any pain he was feeling in his lungs or legs.

A few minutes later, he burst out onto the battlements, barely closing the door behind him. Breathing heavily, he slowed to a walk; he meant to go farther down, away from the door, but he changed his mind as his legs trembled underneath him. He made it to the wall before he collapsed, trying to alleviate the aching of his legs and slow his heart's fast beating. He adjusted himself to be more comfortable, and ended up sitting with his back against the cold stone wall and his legs stretched out in front of him.

It was a moment before he realized that the constriction of his throat wasn't only due to physical exertion. His whole body was still trembling with panic, on the verge of hyperventilating. Arthur had seen him lose control. Arthur would find out he had magic, if he didn't already know. Everything was ruined and Merlin would have to leave, or risk facing death or banishment or-

Or acceptance?

Merlin closed his eyes, thinking about what Arthur had said. You could have magic and I probably wouldn't even mind. How could this have happened? When did the prince come to change his whole entire view of the world without Merlin knowing? It was so unprecedented, so unexpected that Merlin didn't know what to do anymore.

It didn't change anything, that's what he kept firmly telling himself. Arthur couldn't be trusted, even if he was changing his views on magic. He'd been making a point, not seriously considering that Merlin was a sorcerer; there was no way he would forgive Merlin for lying and sneaking around all this time. Merlin still couldn't risk trusting Arthur to do the right thing...

...Or could he? After all, he thought, if Arthur had accepted magic itself so quickly, maybe forgiving Merlin wouldn't be so much harder. Perhaps Merlin was judging him too harshly, and he should give the prince a chance. Maybe he would even allow Merlin to continue living in Camelot.

He opened his eyes, looking out over the wall and towards the horizon. There was no easy option in this situation, no simple exit. At this point, Arthur probably knew about his magic; there could be guards searching for him at this very moment, ready to arrest him for sorcery. Even if Arthur hadn't figured it out yet, Merlin was out of excuses to hide behind, and it wouldn't be long before he did. He wanted to just face Arthur with the truth and let the cards fall where they may, but he knew it was risking a lot. If things went badly, there was no going back. Arthur would never trust him again, and he would either die or have to flee his home. His best option was probably to leave now, at least for the time being. He didn't like to run away, but it would save him the pain of seeing Arthur's face filled with hatred and betrayal.

Merlin drew his legs up and put his hands in his lap. He looked down to find that they were still trembling, although he felt remarkably calmer. It was a hard choice, but there were two ways out of this. The only thing left to do was make a decision; stay and trust Arthur to forgive him, or leave on his own terms and avoid the inevitable pain?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't notice the door silently opening at first. It was only as Arthur stepped into the light that Merlin became aware of his presence. He didn't move; this was his chance to go, to make the choice to leave and never look back. He should have left. But there was still half of him that wanted to stay, and in his indecision, he didn't move an inch.

Arthur didn't seem to have any guards with him, nor was he yelling or attacking Merlin, so it seemed safe to say that he hadn't figured out Merlin's secret yet. After a moment of standing there, he seemed to understand that Merlin wasn't going to acknowledge him. Merlin braced himself for a continuation of their previous conversation, or for questions about the vase. Instead, Arthur surprised him by slowly walking over and sitting down next to the servant.

The prince didn't say anything, and neither did Merlin. He wasn't sure what to say, and he was painfully aware of how fragile their situation was, of how quickly and easily everything could fall to pieces. He still didn't know what he wanted to do, but he couldn't sit here forever and just wait for Arthur to do something. Should he reveal himself and see how the prince took it, or should he lie and run off as he always did?

A familiar voice in the back of his head was insisting that he must keep the magic a secret, that no good could come from the truth. It told him that Arthur could never accept him. It was the same voice that had held him back every time he had ever considered telling the truth. And he realized with clarity more acute than ever before just how much he hated listening to that voice. Why should he have to hide, he told it, when Arthur had unwittingly guessed his secret and stated that he would accept it? The prince claimed to have changed his mind about magic. Could it really be true?

There's only one way to find out, he thought, and in a sudden moment of brashness, he broke the silence.

"Were you serious?"

Almost as soon as Arthur turned to look at him, however, he lost his nerve and wished he could take it back.

"About what?" Arthur asked, looking confused. Merlin mentally slapped himself; he was so wrapped up in his own mind, he'd forgotten that Arthur had no way of knowing what he was thinking about. He swallowed very self-consciously and looked away, trying to answer.

"About…"

He found it hard to continue. Finishing this sentence could change everything in a heartbeat and ruin everything he'd ever worked for. He couldn't, he shouldn't, it would be the end-

"About magic."

He'd said it.

He wasn't sure if it was relief or trepidation now coursing through him; it was probably both. When Arthur didn't respond immediately, Merlin found that he couldn't bring himself to look up.

"Magic?" Arthur repeated, sounding bewildered. Oh god, Merlin thought, here it comes. "You mean what I said before?"

He swallowed again to clear his throat, but when he tried to find his voice, it wouldn't come.

"Well, yes," Arthur said slowly, and immediately Merlin was filled with a timid hope, "but why is that-"

He fell abruptly silent. And Merlin could hear it. Could hear the word running through Arthur's mind, could hear how the realization dawned on him, could hear how he froze in surprise. Arthur knew. Arthur knew.

Merlin was going to be sick. He noticed that he was wringing his hands in his lap, rubbing them back and forth across each other restlessly. When had he started doing that?

"Merlin…" Arthur's voice was tentative, questioning. "You don't… you know… have…"

Merlin couldn't bring himself to make a sound. For a long minute, it seemed that neither could Arthur.

"You have magic."

Arthur said it carefully, as though testing the way it sounded on his tongue. Merlin had no idea what to say, and his voice had disappeared anyway. This was it; this was the moment he had been imaging for years, the one he'd thought of with trepidation, with hope, with terror, with jubilation. It was the moment he'd dreamed of. And now that it was actually happening, he had absolutely no idea what to do.

They both sat there, neither knowing what to say or how to say it.

Merlin risked a glance at Arthur out of the corner of his eye, and saw him staring into space, his eyes distant, obviously lost in thought. It made him more nervous to see such a blank expression on the prince's face, and his fears of Arthur not accepting him began reappearing in the back of his mind. He wanted Arthur to say something, to break the silence, to hint at what he was thinking. The suspense was eating away at Merlin's mind.

Finally, Arthur spoke. "That vase…"

Oh, right. That. Merlin had almost forgotten about it. If Arthur didn't already think Merlin was a monster for having magic, wouldn't he be convinced if he knew that Merlin couldn't even contain it?

It was too late to look back, he decided. He had come this far, it would be pointless to try and hold back now.

"I haven't lost control like that in a long time," he said, rubbing his temple, his hands still trembling. He wanted desperately to see what Arthur's reaction was, but he was too cowardly to meet his eyes, and his gaze stayed down.

"You... you lost control?" He could hear the bafflement in Arthur's voice. "Is that even possible? I thought magic is a skill that requires effort, not something to... rein in, as you make it sound. You speak as though it has a mind of its own."

"It practically does," he responded, trying to figure out how to explain before Arthur grew disgusted by him. "I'm…different, I suppose."

He waited for a response, but Arthur did not give one. After a moment, he realized that the prince was waiting for an elaboration, and he searched for words to describe it.

"Most people study and learn magic, right? They choose to use it, they choose to be sorcerers." He hesitated; Arthur didn't argue, so he continued. "Well, I didn't."

"I don't understand."

Merlin sighed. No one understands. He finally raised his head to look at the prince.

"I was born with magic, Arthur."

He saw the stunned look appear on Arthur's face, but he kept going, wanting to finish his explanation before any assumptions were made.

"I had magic as a child, and it was instinctual, like walking. I would use it without even realizing what I was doing, catching falling objects in midair and moving things without touching them. It wasn't something I could suppress or be overly conscious of; it just sort of... happened."

Arthur seemed to be trying to move his mouth, but no sound came out for a few seconds. "How…?"

"I don't know," Merlin said, saving him from having to form a coherent sentence. "Other people are born with natural magical abilities, but no one has ever come close to the power I have. I don't know what I am or why I was born like this." He hesitated, and then admitted quietly, "I used to think I was a monster."

Arthur's face went through a number of emotions, some of which Merlin couldn't identify. He didn't get a response, and Merlin suddenly felt very self conscious. He shouldn't have said that last bit. It was too personal, and for all he knew, Arthur agreed with it. He wasn't even completely sure what made him say it. It wasn't that he wanted pity or sympathy, especially not from Arthur, and he wasn't looking for reassurance against it, either. He wished he hadn't said it.

Arthur still didn't say anything.

"Well?" Merlin finally asked, his anxiety peaking.

"Well, what?"

"Well…" Merlin wasn't sure how to encompass everything in one question. Are you angry? Do you think I'm evil? Am I about to be thrown in a dungeon cell? Are you okay with it? He just wanted Arthur to say something. "What do you think?"

The prince's brow creased. "I'm rather surprised, obviously. I'm not sure it ever so much as crossed my mind that you might be a sorcerer. So… yeah, I'm surprised," he summed up.

Surprised? That was it? Merlin couldn't understand. He'd just revealed that he had magic, and all Arthur was feeling was surprise?

"What, is that all?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What were you expecting? For me to arrest you?"

"Maybe." Among many other, worse things.

"You really thought I would take it that badly?"

Arthur actually seemed startled. This wasn't what Merlin had expected.

"You're not angry?"

"Not particularly, no," Arthur said. "At least, not yet. I'm not sure if it's a delayed reaction, but at the moment I'm alright. Like I said, I've been changing my mind about magic."

Merlin still wasn't convinced. Every version of this scenario he'd ever imagined always included Arthur being mad. "You're not even angry about the lying?"

"You mean the fact that you've lied to my face for years?" No, I mean that time I called you fat, idiot, Merlin thought sarcastically, but he kept his mouth shut and Arthur continued. "Yes, I suppose I am rather upset about that, but I understand some of it. I haven't exactly been very supportive of magic in the past, and I can understand how any sorcerer, good or evil, would want to keep their skills a secret. And after all, by now I was already quite aware that you weren't being very honest with me," Arthur said in a cutting voice. "It's not exactly new information. I've already come to terms with that."

Merlin tried not to flinch at the bitter undertone in Arthur's voice. What the prince said made sense, but Merlin still just didn't get why he was taking it so well.

"But still-"

"Look," Arthur cut him off, finally sounding annoyed, "do you want me to be angry? Are you trying to have me arrest you?"

That stopped Merlin in his tracks. He was right, Merlin should be relieved that Arthur was taking it so well, not trying to convince him to be angry. It was just so unlikely for it to have gone this easily, that he was half convinced it was an act to distract him while he called the guards. His mind couldn't wrap around the fact that Arthur wasn't even mad.

"No," he said quietly, embarrassed again.

"Then stop arguing. I'm still trying to mull over everything."

Merlin looked down at his lap. He didn't want Arthur to think about it more, because then he might change his mind. The prince had said it himself; he was probably in shock and liable to regain his normal senses at any moment, and thinking about the details of Merlin's betrayal could easily trigger a sudden reaction, one that might not be so nice. But there was nothing he could do to prevent it, so he sat and waited and tried not to worry.

"Why the hell did you come to Camelot if you have uncontrollable magic?"

Merlin tried not to show his relief at being asked a question. For once, he could answer easily. "I was just a farm boy in Ealdor with no real prospects and no use. With the amount of power I had, my mother felt I was meant for bigger and better things, but it was dangerous for me to just wander the kingdoms with my magic. I told you, it's practically instinctual, I can't just stop using it altogether and I couldn't always contain it. I traveled here so I could stay with Gaius, and he was supposed to help me. I came to Camelot to learn to control my magic and find a use for it, and... well…" He had a sudden feeling he was going to say something he'd regret again. "I did, I suppose."

"And what might that be?"

He sighed. Might as well come out with the rest of it now. "To protect you, unfortunately."

"You protect me," Arthur repeated, "with magic."

Merlin could hear the usual derision lacing his voice. Even after everything he had just learned, Arthur still couldn't help but be doubtful of Merlin doing something brave or heroic. The warlock had a sudden burning desire to prove him wrong, instead of laughing it off as he usually had to.

"Well, yeah," he said casually, "pretty much. I've saved your stupid royal arse more times than I can count."

"And what exactly is it that I need saving from?" Arthur asked, using the voice that Merlin associated with a prince feeling like his manliness was being threatened.

Merlin acted as though he had to think for a minute. "Well, there's the usual, you know, assassins, bandits, mercenaries, sorcerers... The magical beasts that you always insist on fighting... A few armies…"

He watched with satisfaction as Arthur's face went from annoyed to slack-jawed.

"You mean to say you've defeated all of those? All in the name of protecting me and all without recognition?"

Leave it to Arthur to worry about the credit. "It's not credit I'm after," Merlin told him. "I'm just protecting my friends and my home in any way I can. And I usually seem to be the only one with the power to stop our enemies or troubles, so it ends up being my responsibility."

He decided it might be a little much to also explain the whole 'destiny' thing, so he didn't bring it up.

"So you… use it often?" Arthur asked hesitantly. "Your magic?"

"Of course I use my magic. How do you think I finish the ridiculous amount of chores you give me every day?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, and Merlin's brain suddenly caught up with his mouth. Damn my sarcasm.

"I mean," he quickly amended, "I might occasionally use it. Now and then. When there's dire need, lives at stake, that sort of thing."

Arthur continued to raise his eyebrows.

"It's not my fault!" Merlin cracked. "I told you I can't always help it. And you really do give me a ridiculous amount of chores, I mean I have to do your laundry and muck your stables and polish your armor and clean your room, while also helping Gaius and trying to save the kingdom from falling every other day." Arthur's face didn't change. "It's not my fault."

Arthur snorted. "Slacker."

Merlin made a noise of protest, but his outrage wasn't real. Arthur had a small smirk on his lips, and for the first time since he walked into Arthur's chambers, he felt that everything might turn out alright after all. Maybe he wouldn't have to lose everything. Maybe he could just go back to being the prince's friend and trusted confident like he used to be, magic or no magic.

Maybe it really was going to be that easy.

Arthur stood up, dusting off his pants. "Well, I have to go. I've got a castle to run and matters to take care of."

"Yes, you do," Merlin admitted. He'd forgotten about the rest of the world with their pointless little troubles. "But… you're sure you're not going to… do anything?"

Arthur sighed. "For the last time, Merlin, I'm not going to arrest you. Just... give me time to think things over, alright? I need to sort everything out in my head, and we can talk more later. For now, just forget about it."

Merlin nodded and waited until Arthur left to let out a deep breath.

It was over.

Arthur knew, and he'd accepted him, and just like that, it was over.

He ran a hand through his hair, and found that it had finally stopped shaking.

Obviously, it wasn't actually over; he knew that, and he knew that there was still so much to work through with Arthur, all the secrets, all the pain, all the mistakes. But Merlin's magic had been the head of the beast, and now that it was over, he felt much more confident about the outcome. If Arthur could accept the magic so easily, then there was nothing Merlin could tell him that would turn him against the warlock, Merlin felt sure.

He stood up. He felt the rays of sunlight hitting his back, and he turned to look over the wall. Camelot was just waking up, uncharacteristically quiet, the rooftops glowing in the morning light. For the first time in years, Merlin just stood and took it all in.

He had forgotten how beautiful the city was.

Merlin stayed like that for a while. He knew he should really go talk to Gaius, but for now, he just stood, remembering the young boy who had arrived in Camelot so long ago with dreams in his heart. He remembered how that boy had gazed out of his window, enchanted by the view with all the glowing lights from the city. He remembered how scared that boy had been of living in a world where people were killed for using magic, and how much he'd dreamed of freedom from such hatred.

If only that boy could see him now.

A/N: It's been over a year since I finished Blind Trust, and I found it somewhat difficult to go back and write this. My ability to write dialogues obviously needs some work, because some of the conversation in this part was awful and flat out unnatural. I tried to keep it the same almost word-for-word anyway, mostly because I didn't feel like going back and rewriting so much of the original fic.

Also, for anyone wondering: yes, the title is from the song 'It's Time' by Imagine Dragons (great band). I didn't even think of it until I finished writing and had to come up with a title, and it popped into my head. The entire song kind of fits this story, and you should go listen to the lyrics if you don't know it.

Well, I hope it wasn't too boring. I'm not super confident about the ending, but overall I think it turned out alright. I highly appreciate any comments or feedback so I can tell what you guys all think about it. Thanks to everyone who read, and special kudos to anyone who bothers reading my ANs!

- Switz