There's many a theory floating around on the interwebs as to how Merlin will reveal his magic, or how Arthur will discover his servant has always been a sorcerer. And I LOVE those theories, so it had to happen someday: I wrote a reveal fic. But slightly different from the others.

Characters are obviously not mine, they belong to either history, or to the BBC.
Enjoy!

Edit: it was such a lousy way of reading and I intended to update that a looooong time ago (but Tumblr happened, like it always does). After still getting a couple of reviews from brave souls who dug their way through this, I just got off my lazy backside and changed it to a somewhat more readable story. At least, I hope it's readable. That's up to you guys ;)

'I have magic.'

Arthur's room was silent, apart from the rain that gently hit the coloured windows of the king's bedroom. Outside dark clouds rolled over Camelot, bringing yet more rain and the cold wind of autumn with them.
Merlin stood with sweaty palms before the king. Arthur, in return, looked up from the parchment he'd been scribbling on. One corner of his upper lip was pulled up. After regarding Merlin for what seemed like ages, Arthur put down his feather and sat back, his chair creaking noisily. 'Merlin,' the man said, sounding tired. 'As you know, a treaty is being set up with the new king of Mercia. You were there when we negotiated, after all.' Merlin nodded numbly.
'So you can imagine I'm a bit busy,' Arthur went on, frowning at Merlin, who had no clue where this was going. 'Too busy, in fact, to have to listen to your, quite frankly, terrible jokes.' And with those words, Arthur continued writing, pointedly ignoring his stunned servant.
Merlin opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again before mumbling an excuse and walking out into the hall. When he'd closed the door, he leant against it and willed his pounding heart to calm down while he shook his head. 'He really is a prat.'

It took Merlin another two days to gather the courage to tell Arthur he had magic. Again. This time, Arthur was sitting in the throne room. He'd just had a meeting with the council, and it seemed that by the end of this week Camelot and Mercia would be able to tolerate each other after years of hostility.
As Merlin cleared up the goblets and spare parchments, he nervously glanced at Arthur now and again. The king was sorting his own paperwork, a concentrated look on his face. It really didn't suit him, Merlin thought, allowing himself a moment of humour.

'Arthur?'
The king held up his hand, and Merlin patiently waited for the man to finish whatever he was doing. This took a full five minutes and the clearing of seven goblets.
'Yes, Merlin.'
Merlin, arms filled with goblets which he could hardly balance, cleared his throat. Arthur wasn't looking up.
'I'm a sorcerer.'

After a moment's silence a deep sigh came from Arthur, who sagged momentarily before finally giving his manservant an exasperated look.
'This again?'
'But-'
'I told you, Merlin, that your jokes are terrible,' Arthur went on, ignoring Merlin's stuttered protests. 'I have a mind to make a law that you tell no jokes at all.' Arthur waved his hand. 'Go and bring those goblets to the kitchens, will you? You have the rest of the day off, I believe Gaius needs you for...whatever it is you and Gaius do.'
'Herbalism,' Merlin murmured weakly, turning and walking out of the throne room.
In the cool hallway, the warlock heaved a deep sigh, shook his head, and wondered what it would take to make Arthur see he wasn't joking around.

It had been three weeks since his last attempt. Gaius had to talk sense into Merlin, who'd lost all hope that perhaps he'd be able to just tell Arthur he had magic, and for the once and future prat to believe him.
'It has to happen some day, Merlin,' his guardian had said, one eyebrow raised at him. 'Arthur needs to know.'
Merlin had huffed in response. 'Yeah, a year ago you'd have said something entirely different.'
But Gaius was, as it often happened, right. It was time. Even Merlin could feel it deep inside himself. Arthur had admitted it a few months ago; perhaps magic wasn't so bad, wasn't supposed to be evil. Perhaps magic could be used for good.

And today was a new day, the sun shone down on Camelot as the green leafs on the trees began to fade to orange, and Merlin had scraped together his confidence to give his "coming out" another shot.

This time, it was during sword practise.

Merlin stood beside Arthur as he watched two of his younger knights spar. They were a bit clumsy; Merlin imagined this looked much like how he handled swords, the boys being only slightly better.
'They're awful,' Arthur muttered under his breath. Merlin shrugged. 'It might get better, with the years. They're still young, my lord.' Arthur inclined his head slightly, once again with the corner of his mouth pulled up. 'I'm glad you've got some confidence in them because, right now, I don't.'
Merlin chuckled. 'All in due time, sire.'
Arthur let the two boys muddle on for a few more moments before interfering and showing them how to move. The warlock watched, his mind still on confessing his magic to Arthur. But how was he going to get the king to realise that he wasn't joking around? That he really had magic?

Rubbing his forehead, Merlin let out a slow breath. This whole ordeal was giving him a headache.
'Don't think too hard, you might need your brain later,' Arthur jokingly said as he joined his servant on the sidelines.
'Ha-ha,' Merlin said slowly, his eyes on the two boys as they enthusiastically went at each other with their swords and newly acquired stances. Though still clumsy, they were eager to learn from Arthur's experience, and practised all he'd just shown them.

The red-haired boy swung his sword from below, and the blonde blocked it with difficulty, nearly falling over backward. Using the momentum from his own swing, the blonde pushed on, forcing the sword upward.
But it happened so suddenly that the redhead lost his grip on the sword, and it flew through the air towards Merlin and Arthur...
'Watch out!' Arthur cried out, pushing Merlin aside. But Merlin had instinctively responded, having seen that the sword was not headed towards him, but at Arthur's head.

The sword stopped in mid-air, glinting in the autumn sun. The two boys, both pale as they realised what they'd nearly done, and Arthur were staring at the floating sword. Then, Arthur's blue eyes followed the line of the sword to the hand with long fingers that was directed at it. Then, his eyes found Merlin's which only just faded from golden to their regular blue.
'Now who's joking,' Merlin said with a big grin, allowing the sword to float into his hand before pushing it in the limp hands of Arthur.

Arthur, with his mouth open, looked down at the sword in is hands and then back up at his servant. Then, somewhat indignantly, he closed his mouth and marched to the two boys to give them their sword.

Merlin assumed his former position on the side of the battlefield. Arthur joined him not long after telling the boys off and ordering them to continue.
Silence hung between the two men. Then -

'You still have a lousy sense of humour, Merlin.'