DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story.

Hello you all. This isn't usually like me, but I finished this earlier-I got out early and had some time to kill on my hands. I have been hovering over the "Post next chapter" button for a while now, and I finally deicded to give you all an early (Orthodox) Easter present and post it one day earlier.

I really hope you like it:)

Enjoy^^

"You knew?" The warlock jumped at the sudden shout, the slamming of the doors making his gaze round on the figure storming inside.

Merlin had ignored Arthur all day. Ever since the little disagreement they'd had in the morning-more of a case of Arthur-being-a-prat-about-something and Merlin putting up with him, really-the warlock had resolved not to talk to the prince until he had apologized. He had seen it in his eyes, just before he'd left his chambers to take away the unfinished breakfast, that Arthur was sorry. Merlin knew how the prince felt and he even knew why he had reacted the way he had: Arthur wasn't just an ordinary, proud young man-he was a prince. And not just any prince at that, mind you, but the crowned prince of Camelot, Uther Pendragon's son. This position brought with it definitely too much responsibility, as well as a healthy dose of pride that, added to the amount he already possessed, made Arthur Pendragon a pretty proud person. Add that to the fact that he was also very stubborn and used to get his way, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why exactly he hadn't been very eager to admit that he was wrong and apologize to a servant.

But the situation got even more complicated than that: as Uther Pendragon's son, Arthur had been brought up in a hatred-against-all-things-magical factory, and even though he had begun to sometimes challenge his father's views in private, Merlin knew the prince wasn't exactly on magic's side. So yes, he did understand why the situation was particularly unsettling for Arthur, and why the magical solution to it should have been brought into discussion in a more… treading-on-mined-ground kind of way.

However, Merlin had put it to the prince bluntly. Even he wasn't usually this straightforward, but for a strange mix of not entirely known reasons, he had gone straight to the point and told Arthur there was no way their "guests" were going away without the use of magic.

The warlock knew the prince agreed, he understood his reasons for not wanting to admit it, for wanting to delay, for shouting at him like that and practically telling him to sod off because he was just a servant. And usually, Merlin would've shrugged it off, because that was how Arthur was-he didn't really mean any of the things he said. Not this time, though. No, this time the prince would get nothing but silent treatment from Merlin until he properly apologized.

So Merlin had gone out of his way to do his job quietly, politely answering when asked with the stiffness and lack of emotion any proper servant would-something he knew Arthur didn't like. He had turned a deaf ear to all the prince's attempts at conversations, and after a while Arthur had become irritated and started ignoring him as well. That was probably fueled by the fact that Arthur had realized he wasn't going to get out of this without actually admitting he had been wrong, and obviously he didn't like that.

And after that, Arthur and Merlin had both been busy.

Now it was nearly evening, the final rays of the late afternoon sun slipping through the holes and slits between the boards of poorly nailed-together wood of the stable walls. The light was reddish and warm on Merlin's skin as he worked, brushing the dark mane of Arthur's favorite stallion. This horse was the most beautiful horse he had ever seen, Merlin mused as he put his palm against the soft hair of the animal, feeling the vibrations as it neighed, shaking its head. Merlin gave a soft laugh, stroking the stallion gently. It had very dark, reddish hair, which turned to bright golden brown where the dying rays of orange light touched its back.

The light warmed him, and as he started brushing again Merlin felt, for the first time that day and in a long time, at peace. He had always found it relaxing, tending to Arthur's horses, but this quiet afternoon it felt even more so. The horse snorted, shaking its head again and anxiously tapping his hoofs against the hay covered ground.

"Shh, I'm almost done" Merlin whispered to it, smiling. "So impatient, just like your master"

And that's when, as if on cue, the prince burst through the doors of the empty stables, his hair tousled, the tips of a few stray locks brushing against his eyes. He looked around, a wild, angry look that made Merlin's stomach knot in dread plastered on his face. Merlin tensed, and the horse neighed yet again, moving away from him to eat some of the hay as it realized the brushing session was over. The sound gave away Merlin's location, however, and Arthur locked two accusing eyes filled with the flare of Pendragon anger on the warlock.

"You knew!" he nearly yelled, stomping to the servant so fast that Merlin momentarily forgot he was supposed to be the angry one, and backed away a couple of steps.

"What?" he asked, blinking rapidly. Artur had come to a sudden stop at an arm's reach away from him, and he was barely holding in together, shaking with anger.

"You knew, didn't you?" the prince spat quietly, and Merlin noticed his hands were curled into tight fists, his knuckles white.

Merlin didn't think he had ever seen Arthur so angry before, and his stomach churned as all the possibilities flashed through his mind. The warlock straightened his back, looking up to his friend. He would not back away-he was still mad at Arthur. Whatever this was about, there was no reason to give up on his own pride now.

"What the seven hells are you talking about?" he asked. Well, he could at least let go of the polite answers he had given all day long-it had been so tiring to hold all those quirky remarks back.

Arthur's eyes flashed again dangerously, but his voice was quiet and his tone composed. Which, Merlin mused, was not of the good: the less anger Arthur showed, the more angry he was. So the prince was probably very angry.

"You told me there was no way for them to get back without magic. You were right, there isn't. But there's more than that isn't it? I wondered why you weren't worried at all. It's because you know they already have a way of doing that. You knew and you didn't tell me"

Okay, there wasn't any mistaking it now: Arthur had probably found out Dragoon had magic. But why didn't that shock him? Maybe he was out of shock. His body probably needed to restock before he would be able to feel shock again.

Merlin watched Arthur carefully for a full minute, in which the prince didn't move an inch, staring right back. Then he opened his mouth to tell him that no, he hadn't known.

Somehow, what got out instead was a calm "Yes, I did". The prince looked the tiniest bit taken aback at that. He had probably didn't actually expect Merlin to admit that he had known. Hell, Merlin hadn't even expected that. He was a bit surprised his mouth had for some reason decided to go and disobey his brain, sprouting the truth for once instead of the carefully planned lie he had been preparing.

"Why did you keep it from me? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you hope for it?" Arthur's tone was slowly increasing. "Didn't you think it would be nice to let me know that he is a bloody sorcerer?"

Merlin felt his own anger flare inside him, trying to claw its way out. Arthur was being unfair, but at the same time he was right: he was supposed to tell Arthur these things. But he couldn't. How could he? How could he tell the prince of Camelot something like that?

"You are a sorcerer in the future! Did you already decide to practice magic?" Arthur went on, now glaring at him accusingly. "Are you already planning on doing it? Hell, maybe you already are a sor-"

Merlin couldn't keep it in anymore. He shouted, cutting off Arthur mid-yell. He couldn't stand there and let the prince talk to him like that, not when he was already mad at Arthur, not when the prince wasn't entirely right. Not when the frustration of all those lies he couldn't let go of had been increasing these past days, when he'd seen what things would be like without them.

"And what was I supposed to do?" Arthur stopped, not expecting the interruption. "What, Arthur, was I supposed to tell you? 'How was your day sire-by the way, did you know my future self uses magic?'"

"YES! Something like that would have been great! Maybe then I'd have known-"

"And how would you have reacted?" At this, the prince stopped, his anger subsiding a bit. Merlin drew in a breath, trying to calm himself. Being mad wouldn't help.

"Would you have taken it well?" Merlin asked more quietly, almost tiredly. "If I had told you? I can't talk to you about magic, Arthur. No one can. Only this morning I tried telling you something you already knew-that there is no way for them to return without the use of magic. Remember how you reacted?"

You told me to remember my place, Merlin thought bitterly as he looked up into Arthur's eyes. There was a quick flash of shame behind the anger there.

"That was different" Arthur muttered, suddenly avoiding his gaze.

"How exactly was that different?"

The prince looked somewhere over Merlin's head, his expression flushed with anger and stubbornness. "It just was, alright? That doesn't change the fact that you lied to me!" his gaze rounded on him again, and Merlin's subsiding anger flared up once more, like the flames of a great fire. The light was almost gone now, leaving the two prince and servant engulfed in a grim semi-darkness.

"Fine! I'm telling you now. What will you do?" Merlin snapped, daring the prince to answer. He was getting tired of all this.

Arthur did a double-take, and Merlin seized the opening. "Will you arrest them both? Will you arrest Dragoon? Or maybe both Dragoon and me, since we're one and the same. Actually, you should just execute all four of us, since you will consort with a sorcerer in the future. That's what the law says, doesn't it?"

Arthur was seething. He was so angry, so mad at everything and everyone. He wasn't even sure who exactly his anger was aimed at-probably the whole situation. He was mad at himself, he was mad at Merlin, at the future Merlin, at the future him, at Gaius, at his father, at the law, at his title, at everything.

Why did the situation have to be so complicated? Why could he be just Arthur, and not prince Arthur? Admittedly, it wouldn't have been an easy deal even for an ordinary peasant, because in Camelot the very mention of the word "magic" was synonym with death warrant. But or him it was even harder. And the situation had already been magical to begin with.

Arthur felt like he was being torn apart, pulled in a thousand different directions. Magic was supposed to be evil, and thankfully all magic he had seen so far had stuck by that rule, and made it easier for the prince to turn a blind eye to the unjustness of some aspects of the law. Now, though, a future version of his servant just had to appear and reveal himself to be a sorcerer, of all things.

But Merlin wasn't evil. Arthur knew that much. Of course, the future Merlin could be evil, only that he wasn't: didn't look evil, didn't talk evil, didn't feel evil, hadn't done anything evil. It was still just Merlin, albeit a wiser and nobler one. Yet he had magic.

Oh, and it didn't stop. The whole thing just got more and more awful by the minute. It seemed his future self condoned the use of magic. And somehow Arthur didn't felt that surprised at this information, and not even that sceptical. The problem was: he could see himself consorting with a sorcerer-at least if that sorcerer was Merlin.

Which led him to another problem: Merlin had known this all along. The boy had even confessed it. But how long had his servant known it? Had he just found out? Was he already thinking of practicing sorcery? What if he was already practicing it, however laughable that idea may be? Truth was, Arthur had never exactly asked the boy anything about his views on this particular subject, but he knew Merlin wasn't exactly a magic hater. Did he even hate it at all?

Furthermore, there was his duty: it was his duty as Arthur Pendragon, crowned prince of Camelot, to protect the kingdom and abide by its rules. He wasn't supposed to condone the use of magic, much less this close to him, in the heart of Camelot, in his heart-for Merlin was his fired, future or no future.

Arthur felt like smashing something. What was he to do now? Magic was evil. But Merlin wasn't evil. Yet he will have magic. But he lied to him. Yet that didn't exactly make him evil. Still he had to do his duty-if Dragoon had magic, he was to be executed. But him and Garrah had come here by magic, they couldn't exactly go back without it., and they couldn't stay either. He should arrest both Dragoon and Merlin-it's what his father would do: one was practicing magic, the other was covering for him and would one day become him, thus end up practicing it himself. Yet, then again, maybe he won't, now that he knew. What if he already did though? Those tolerating and concealing sorcerers must be arrested as well. So he should arrest both Garrah and Draggon. And Merlin.

The prince felt his head spin. Maybe he should really arrest himself and the other three. All four of them should be executed and that would be that.

Why was he so torn up by this? It should be easy: either give up on his duty as a prince or betray his friend. Arthur stopped, blinking to himself, feeling like he was in the eye of the storm. He was either to betray his kingdom or his friends. It was an easy question really. A question of loyalty.

"Will you practice magic?" the question passed though his lips before he could stop it. He hadn't even been aware he had spoken out loud, not until Merlin's confused and slightly bitter "I'm sorry?" cut through the train of his chaotic thoughts.

Arthur looked up, the word "nothing" on the tip of his tongue. When he opened his mouth, however, he realized he wanted to know this after all. There wasn't any way this could get any worse, whatever the answer would be.

"After all this is over, will you start practicing magic?"

Arthur watched Merlin closely. He was so thin, he noticed. It had gotten dark now, only a dim glow penetrating inside, barely enough for the prince to make out the shady figure of his lanky servant. He could also half-see, half-picture the familiar mop of ruffled raven-hair, the ever-present neckerchief Arthur still didn't know why Merlin was wearing, his old leather jacket and patched trousers, his blue shirt that matched his usually cheerful eyes. Merlin didn't answer, just stood there, frozen for the longest moment, chewing unconsciously on his lower lip.

And then started walking, brushing against his shoulder as he passed him by, and Arthur was left staring at the place where the servant had been. He could hear his stallion's neighing and Merlin's footsteps fading away beneath the sound of his pounding hear. Fear dug sharp claws into his stomach and ran icy fingers thorough his chest, raising to the surface of his mind a concept that had been unfathomable until now.

Was it possible that Merlin was already practicing magic?

Merlin wanted to tell him yes. To say "I was born with magic, Arthur". He was angry and scared and sick of the lies, sick of the secrets. He wanted his friend to know.

But the words wouldn't get out. He tried, and tried, and tried again, but the damn words wouldn't leave, his lips wouldn't part to let them out. His throat wouldn't give birth to the sounds.

Merlin didn't breathe, couldn't breathe. He stared at Arthur's left shoulder, not daring to look him in the eyes. Finally, the warlock gave up, letting his body relax, his shoulders slumping as a dull ache was left in his muscles. He couldn't do it. Suddenly, all of the anger melted away into a huge wave of sadness. He couldn't do it.

Yet somehow, he couldn't tell him no. Not this time. Merlin just didn't find it in his heart to lie this time. And maybe it was a selfish thing to do, because he knew how much Arthur needed to hear this answer. the prince's question was bordering on desperate, hanging above them in the air. Merlin had earlier been able to hear the bustle and noises of the inhabitants of the castle heading home from beyond the walls of the stables, but now there was just quiet; quiet and a distant echo of the day that had gone.

He couldn't lie, but he could tell the truth either. So he walked away.

Hope you liked it. Thank you for reading:D

These last two chapters have been young Merlin-Arthur relationship centered, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the others. They'll be there in the next chapter.

What did you think?

I'll post the next chapter on Saturday:D See? I've managed to knock my whole schedule out of order because of this:D

See ya later^^