VIII.

It feels impossible

When Merlin envisioned revealing his magic to Arthur, he never pictured that it would be in such a setting. Arthur seems to have a knack for looking like he'd stepped out of an ode to romance. Sometimes, he suspected it was intentional. Right now, his prince is looking at him with the innocent, trusting eyes of the boy he never really had the chance to be. His clothing is disheveled and his mouth looks ripe. Despite the anxiety that's visible there, he looks like he believes Merlin will do nothing to break this thing blossoming between them. Hesitantly, Merlin puts his thumb to the other's lower lip, pressing and skewing it to the side. The tip of his thumb finds the peak of an endearingly crooked tooth. Could this be one of the last touches that they shared? With Uther in power still and Arthur still living under his thumb, there is no guarantee that he would remain safe within the walls of Camelot. But could Arthur really watch him die? Or would he exile him? He did not lie when he told Arthur that he would not ask him to choose between his father and Camelot and himself. How could he even think of putting Arthur in such a position? It's not necessary for Merlin to remain in service to the prince to protect him and fulfil his destiny. He would find a way...but it would hurt to lose him over something like this. There is also the issue of lying to Arthur. Even if Arthur takes his confession well, he was lying and had been lying for years now. But what else could he have done? When the other nips his thumb, he realizes how long he's been silently brooding. Arthur gives him a small, hopeful smile. It's an adorable little thing. Imagine that? He can barely grasp it. To see Arthur so vulnerable, even if it is meant for him makes him feel like an intruder. This is different to the tortured moments Arthur's shared with him, different to his bumbling confessions in the market. This is a soft, precious moment that he could easily be on the verge of crushing. It is with no small sadness that he realizes that he could break the prince's heart. But how could he let him live a lie?

"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur prods gently, his smile a little tight at the corners but the nudge of his nose against Merlin's palm is comfortable.

Without any sort of preamble, "I have magic."

"I know." And they both recoil. Arthur shakes his head, his face twisting in confusion. "I mean...no. No, I did not know that. Yo-you have magic?"

Merlin watches with despair as Arthur's face falls into a slack mask of betrayal. When he jumps up, toppling the chair and nearly falling over it in his haste to put distance between them, Merlin is not at all surprised. He just silently lets him. The other's face cycles through reactions near silently as his hands comb roughly through his hair, his eye contact sporadic. Then he starts pacing. Above all else, it's a bold and bleak sadness striped across his prince's face and it nurtures a bud of self-loathing nestled inside of him. This is the hurt he wants to save him from. It takes more than he thought to stop himself from trying to make an escape, even more to restrain Arthur with magic so he could explain. But to what end?

"Did you enchant me?" The prince asked weakly, his face flushed with a desperate plea.

Affronted, "So, I could become your bedroom secret? No, sire."

Dismayed,

"Then… why? Why are you revealing this now? Why now? How long?"

"I was born with it," Merlin says, rising carefully, "I only began studying it when I came to Camelot. I had to tell you, Arthur, I couldn't let you be with me without knowing. Magic is who I am."

Arthur charges towards him at that and grabs him by his biceps. He breathes heavily through his nose, watching Merlin with a jaw locked. His fingers flex a couple times then hold firm. "If magic is who you are then who were you to me?"

When Merlin mirrors the other's posture, the prince keens softly at his touch, a low, wounded sound. "I have always been me to you and magic has always been a part of that. Don't you know why I couldn't tell you?"

"My father would've had you executed if he found out." Arthur could barely maintain eye contact but his hands are as sure as the steel of his sword. Merlin imagines that he can hear the cracks running through the other's heart with each bit that they speak. He can hear a chisel striking nearby but when he looks to his hands, they're full of tunic and muscle. He knows this is his doing. "How could you ever think...that I would let you die, Merlin? Even before...before I felt...this way? How could you think so little of me?"

"And what would become of you and your father if you defied him over my life?" He leaned in a bit, daring Arthur to follow him.

Taken aback, "That is what concerned you?"

Hotly, "I wouldn't want you to be put in a position where you had so much to lose."

Sadly, "You didn't think that you could have trusted me with your secret."

Sighing, "I couldn't be sure at first. You have a good heart but...your father's grip on you…" He takes a deep breath and steels himself. He's watching the prince wilt in front of him but he's certain that there is enough iron in his spine to support them both. "Then I was sure when we spoke about magic as a tool and I planned to tell you but all of this romance exploded in our faces."

Looking up sharply as something dawned on him, Arthur accused, "You weren't being an arse when you said that you'd been protecting me or that I wouldn't last without you. You...were using magic to...save me, weren't you?"

Merlin won't lie, the accusation in the other's tone - as if it were the worst thing to be saved by him - spikes his annoyance. "Yes, you great prat. You'd think you would sound more grateful."

Like the great brute that he is, Arthur shoves him down into the chair he'd previously vacated and pushes his nose up unceremoniously with a scolding finger. Leaning over and into him, his eyes clouded and mouth scowled petulantly, "It's hardly fair for you to be annoyed at me when I have to absorb that you've been lying to me for years. Not only have you been lying to me, you idiot, you've made a fool of me and tainted my honour."

Slapping the prince's hand away boldly and rising to stand nose to nose, "I hardly cared about honour when you could have died." Arthur, pig-headed to a fault, refuses to back down and they're caught in an intense stare off heated enough to burn Camelot to the ground. "I didn't do it for glory, Arthur, or to take glory from you. I did everything I could to save your life and for a myriad of reasons."

"Tell me."

"What?"

"Tell me why."

Exhaling hard, "You are my destiny. It was prophesied long ago that you would unite the lands of Albion and return magic to the land. And I would help you to do it. So I did it because you were my destiny, then because you were my friend and because I love you." Bold, he steps in further and lays his cheek against the other's. "I've been told that we are two sides of the same coin. However that manifested...whether we were just meant to be friends or to be more...you are my other half and a key to a better world for all of us and I cannot bear to lose you. I would have let nothing stop me from keeping you alive, not your honour, nothing."

Arthur sags slightly against him, his head falling into the crook of his neck and he nearly topples. He feels the other's heavy breaths against his skin. Faintly, "How tired you must be, Merlin, knowing you live such a thankless life."

The prince pushes him away with no real energy and turns his back. He rights the chair and walks to the window on the other side of the room. He holds his fingers up to his mouth and spins the ring on his forefinger idly with his thumb. After a few breaths he says flatly, "I need you to tell me all that you've done. I need to know that there are no more lies between us."

With a hopeful grin, "I can do that. Should I - "

Arthur holds his hand up to stop him. "You said you didn't enchant me but have you ever used magic on me or against me or against Camelot? I need to hear you say it."

Somber, Merlin gets down on one knee and places his fist to his heart. The prince seems dumbfounded by the act. "I, Merlin Hunithson, have never used magic against you, Arthur Pendragon, or Camelot. I have used magic on you to heal you. I have used magic on you to comfort you and there is a piece of my magic that resides in you to protect you."

Slowly, Arthur crosses the room and offers his hand to him to help him up. His face betrays his neutral tone. "Explain the last bit."

So Merlin shows him.

This time the net is visible and it creeps over their joint hands and cloaks the prince. His surprise becomes hazy and his body loosens. He looks deep into the swirling gold of Merlin's eyes. When Merlin draws it back, the silence is reminiscent of the preluding moments to their first kiss. "For a time when I wanted to hold you but I could not." Then he draws the bead of magic from Arthur's chest, measuring the prince's reaction carefully. "For times when I am not at your side."

"How tired you must be to live such a thankless life," the prince repeats forlornly, staring at the little gold bead between them. Gently, he guides it back to his chest, his mouth a small 'o' at its obedience. He looks grim but Merlin's heart soars at the gesture, hopeful. "Go fetch lunch for the both of us. When you return you will tell me everything."

"I can do that," Merlin says again with a confident smile and a squeeze of the hand still clasped around his. He is hopeful that things will somehow be okay. Arthur looks like he's aged decades in the minutes they've been speaking but there is still a gleam of that trusting innocence in his gaze when the other looks at him. Merlin believes that Arthur knows that he's the same old Merlin. He believes that Arthur knows the very heart of him and sees the truth in his words despite the sting to his pride. There are still points in the narrative that worry him and he feels like this is delicate and Arthur can still flip but he knows that his prince would not harm him. He takes comfort and confidence in these things, raising Arthur's hand to his lips and imprinting his promise there. The other's eyes soften and his mouth turns up at the corners softly.

"You know that I will need time, don't you?" Arthur says carefully, "Time on my own to process this. It is...a lot. I just...need to be alone with my thoughts for a while and I do not wish to have a repeat of last time so I'm letting you know."

"So I get the week off then?" He teases, waggling his eyebrows, but he understands. He's always been very good at offering Arthur these little outs. "I did win the race after all."

"Only because I let you, you fool!" Arthur bites back, unable to help himself. Then, with a shove and rueful smile, "Take two."