An: Wow, up for two days and I've already got three favorites, four alerts, and a review? Combine that with the snow we've been getting and Christmas has come early. I actually had this chapter done yesterday and I was going to post it, but then I decided I didn't like it after all and I deleted the whole thing and started over again. And here it is!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I wouldn't have dragged out the wait for Arthur to find out about Merlin's magic this long if I did.


There were days when Merlin wanted nothing more than to drop Arthur's armor right onto the prince's thick skull. The idea of other people needing to sleep or eat - or breathe, for that matter - seemed completely foreign to the other man.

Day after day, Merlin had to get up early, choke down a bowl of porridge that was usually either scalding or freezing, and then run down to the kitchens to get the prince what was probably a six-course meal. And then he had to stand there and watch as Arthur ate and fussily picked out what he considered to be the best parts of the meal. Honestly, couldn't Merlin even get some leftovers?

No, of course not. That would be far too nice of Arthur. Merlin had begun to respect Arthur more, and could admit to liking him a little bit - especially after the whole incident with Nimueh and poison - but that didn't change the fact that the prince was an utter prat. If it weren't for that dragon spouting prophesies and destinies, Merlin would have given up on him completely by now.

Then there was the training. Why it had to be Merlin that Arthur relentlessly hit upside the head with a mace and used as target practice was beyond him. Weren't there knights for this sort of thing? Wasn't this their job?

The next time they were ambushed by bandits Merlin was a little more grateful for it because at least he could do a decent enough job of blocking, but did Arthur really have to hit him so hard? Most nights he returned to his room with the sound of metal on metal ringing obnoxiously in his ears and giving him a headache.

And he didn't even want to get started on the constant hunting trips. Just what was so grand about going out and stabbing things with sharp sticks and sticking them with arrows? It was disgusting and messy and dangerous, and it was usually raining. Merlin didn't like getting wet.

He couldn't understand why Arthur continued to drag him along; it had been well established that Merlin never did anything but scare off the game. And yes, maybe sometimes he did it on purpose in the hopes that maybe, eventually, Arthur would get the hint and stop bringing him along. But, no. Arthur was far too stubborn for that.

Of course, there was also the fact that the one day Merlin didn't go along would be the day that Arthur got attacked by something and needed Merlin to save his royal backside. Not that Merlin would get any thanks for it.

No, he'd be made fun of for lying in the dirt while everyone else fought because Arthur was too much of a self-centered idiot for it to occur to him that tree branches don't usually fall on peoples' heads so conveniently, and experienced swordsmen aren't in the habit of dropping their swords for no good reason, and there wasn't any real reason for the horses to spook like that. Which was the point, Merlin certainly didn't want to be executed or burned at the stake, but that didn't mean he couldn't be grouchy about it.

Merlin wanted to like Arthur, he really did, because now there were times when he could see Arthur's potential to be a good man, but Arthur made it very difficult sometimes. Well, most times, actually.

Still, there were things that made Arthur durable. When he'd risked his life to get Merlin the antidote after Nimueh poisoned him, when he'd helped Mordred escape - a nice gesture, even if the dragon was right and they should have let him die - and when he'd gone to Ealdor to help them fight off bandits even though it wasn't his responsibility and Ealdor wasn't even a part of Camelot.

There were little things too. He'd make jokes with Merlin over breakfast sometimes, or the two of them would make fun of some visiting lord together. Arthur would good-naturedly tease Merlin about his crush on Morgana, which made Merlin blush, but he recognized it as being something that friends do. He would have returned the gesture if Arthur was interested in anyone besides that one crazy woman who tried to sacrifice him.

Really, Arthur had no taste.

Merlin didn't know if it was the pull of destiny or a strong friendship that he didn't really want to admit to having, but he refused to let anything happen to Arthur. No matter what it cost him, he would protect Arthur.

If he was asked, it was just because of destiny. No way he was admitting to actually liking Arthur.

It wasn't until the incident with the unicorn that he'd realized the feeling was mutual. Watching Arthur drink from that goblet, watching him fall, had been one of the most terrifying moments in Merlin's life.

As he ran to him, as he yelled at the old sorcerer who was responsible, all he could think was 'this was for me. He did this so that I wouldn't have to.'

The idea that Arthur would do such a thing was more than Merlin could wrap his head around. So, when Arthur told him he'd done it for the good of Camelot, even though he hadn't known that was what he had to do, Merlin had nodded and pretended to believe him.

Because the idea of him and the royal prat becoming friends - real, loyal, honest, not-just-destiny-bound friends - was just a bit too much for him.

But really, by now, he'd taken to liking Arthur. Even if he was an utter prat. Which he was. But Merlin felt he'd be much less fun to be around if he wasn't. And he happened to like Arthur the way he was.

"Merlin!"

Well, most of the time, anyway.