Chapter XII: In the Stocks

The sound of a sigh made Merlin lift his head. Gwen was looking at him with a familiar mix of fondness and exasperation. Grinning sheepishly, the warlock waved as much as he was able to with his wrists bound by the stocks. "Morning, Gwen."

"Good morning, Merlin. Do I want to know?"

"Uther let Arthur, Leon, and Geoffrey out of the dungeons today, but then I reminded him that Leon saved Arthur's life so he wouldn't execute him and he sent me to the stocks."

Brown eyes widened in alarm. "He threatened to execute Leon?"

"Yes," Merlin said, then explained what happened.

"Do you think that Uther is going to do it?" Gwen asked, alarmed. "He didn't say he wouldn't, at least not when you were there. Do you know if Leon's going to be alright?"

"I am," announced a familiar voice. Merlin craned his neck to see a familiar figure approaching him and Gwen. Leon was still dirty from his stay in the dungeons, and it was rather odd to see him without his usual cloak of Camelot red, but there was a warm smile on the knight's face as he approached the manservant. "I don't know if your words persuaded him or if he freed me for another reason, but thank you, Merlin. You very possibly saved my life."

Merlin smiled back at him, relieved. "You're welcome, Sir Leon. What about Sir Geoffrey? Is he going to be alright?"

"He is," said another familiar voice. Merlin grimaced slightly, wishing he could turn his head around so that he would notice when people approached him from the side. "Father realized that Geoffrey was a victim and couldn't be held accountable for what Sigan did in his body. He went to his chambers, I think to get a bath."

"More good news," Merlin declared.

"Yes," Arthur agreed, but he looked troubled. Merlin made a mental note to ask his friend what was wrong, ignore him when he claimed that everything was fine, and then keep pushing until the stubborn prat finally came clean.

"I hope you're not here to ask about your bath," Merlin teased. "As you can see, I'm a bit occupied."

"Too occupied to do your job and serve your prince?"

"I mustn't disappoint my fans," the warlock informed him solemnly.

Gwen was the only one who chuckled in response, but it was a soft, wistful sound. At Leon and Arthur's questioning glances, she explained, "He said something similar the day we met. He was in the stocks, and I went to introduce myself."

"It was Arthur's fault," Merlin interjected.

"It was your own fault," the prince retorted.

"No, it was your fault. I wouldn't have had to confront you if you weren't being a prat."

Arthur grumbled something under his breath. Merlin thought he caught the word 'delusional,' but he couldn't be sure.

"What else did he say?" Leon asked Gwen, a bit more loudly than was strictly necessary.

Gwen's smile was almost sad. "That he was in disguise."

Arthur snorted automatically. "Merlin couldn't wear a disguise to save his life. Too much decep—" But here he cut himself off, a frown furrowing his brow. In a much lower voice, he asked, "What did you actually do with Excalibur?"

Merlin considered. Leon knew that Arthur hadn't actually commanded him to destroy it, and Gwen knew that he hadn't had her father melt it down. "It's hidden in my room," he replied, deeming that a safe enough answer for present company.

"Excalibur?" Gwen repeated.

"My sword," Arthur explained.

"Oh!" Gwen looked embarrassed, a faint blush darkening her cheeks. Apparently, she was remembering that Merlin had mentioned it during their conversation about how he was secretly a warlock leading a magical conspiracy and consorting with dragons and whatnot. Not that he blamed her for forgetting, of course. There had been a lot of information for her to take in over a very short period of time, so he could hardly blame her for temporarily forgetting a few details. "Of course."

Arthur was giving Merlin an odd look, making the warlock wonder if the prince had ever actually told him—Merlin him, that was, not Emrys him—that the sword even had a name, much less what the name was. He had a nasty feeling that he wasn't supposed to have known what Excalibur was called. In an effort to distract Arthur (and Leon, who might figure out that something was up), he asked, "Are you here to get me out? I'm already getting a crick in my neck."

"Not quite yet," Arthur replied. "You still have to stay there for another hour or so, longer if my father figures out I'm letting you out early."

"Really?" Merlin exclaimed.

"Really." A pained expression flitted across the prince's face. "Did you really expect to be punished that much after loyal service?"

"Considering that that's how I ended up your manservant—"

"No." Arthur was serious now, pensive and frowning. "You were all…."

Merlin cocked his head as much as he could. "All what?"

"…Never mind," Arthur finally muttered. He still looked disturbed, though, so Merlin made a mental note to bother him about that, too. "I should go bathe. I'll leave orders for you to be let out as soon as possible."

Merlin smiled at him. "Thanks."

Arthur nodded as he walked away, still plainly preoccupied with whatever was distracting him. Merlin dearly hoped it wasn't anything about his suspicious ability to lie or his slip-up about Excalibur's name.

"I ought to bathe as well," Leon sighed. "I never realized quite how fragrant the dungeons were until these last few days. Thank you again, Merlin. If there is ever anything I can do to even partially repay you, say the word and I will."

Merlin's smile widened. "I'll keep that in mind for the next time Arthur's being a prat."

Leon's lips twitched. "So later today, then?"

The smile warped into a grin. "Probably."

The knight chuckled. "Until then, Merlin. Try to keep stretching, all right? I've heard that's supposed to help."

"I'll try," he called as Leon made his way back to the castle. Soon only Gwen remained. Though she'd been smiling in fond amusement at her friends' interactions, now the happiness was melting off her face, replaced by something nervous and awkward. "Is something wrong, Gwen?"

The maid chewed her lip. Her eyes flitted about, taking in the (fortunate) lack of bored commoners waiting to chuck rotten vegetables at him. She leaned in, spoke in such a quiet voice that Merlin had to strain his ears to hear it.

"Have you ever thought about telling him?"

There was no need to ask who 'he' might be or what Merlin might tell him about. "When he's king," the warlock murmured back.

"That might be thirty years from now," Gwen pointed out. "I—I know that it's your secret and your choice, Merlin, and I'm not exactly unbiased in this, but I think you should consider telling Arthur sooner than that. Much, much sooner than that, I mean. Maybe even before we get back from Tintagel."

Merlin goggled at her, his jaw agape. "You want me to what?"

"I think you should tell him soon," was the quiet, resolute response. "I figured it out on my own, Merlin, and I spend much less time with you than Arthur."

"You're also considerably smarter than him."

Her lips twitched, but she didn't quite smile. "Thank you, but that isn't the point. The point is that there are so many ways that Arthur could figure it out, or see something he shouldn't, or walk in on you—well, you know—doing something you shouldn't. And I think that it would be better if he heard it from you—if it was your choice—instead of it being an accident or something that an enemy forced you into."

"…Are you saying that as someone who found out on her own?" Merlin asked softly.

"Maybe," she sighed. "I think so. I don't know, really, because I understand why you didn't tell me. I know that me knowing is dangerous for both of us. And I know that it really is your secret and it should be your choice about whether or not to reveal it. It's not… it's your life, Merlin, and you weren't under any obligation to endanger yourself to tell me. But…." She gave a tiny, helpless little shrug. "But I still sort of wish that you had, and I think that the situation with Arthur is different and similar enough that maybe you should. Does that make any sense at all?"

Merlin considered for a long moment before slowly inclining his head. "I… think so. And… I'll think about it, okay? Telling Arthur, I mean."

Gwen smiled shyly. "Thank you," she whispered. "That's all I ask, really. Thank you. And, Merlin? If you do choose to tell Arthur and you need help or anything, let me know and I'll help. Also, I'm really not angry or upset with you for not telling me. I understand. I just… wish that it didn't have to be this way."

"Me, too," Merlin said. "But that's what we're working for, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is." Gwen patted him on the back, her hand warm and gentle. "I need to get back to Morgana now. I'll see you later, Merlin."

"See you later, Gwen."

As his friend walked off, Merlin's smile faded into a small pensive frown. Tell Arthur. Knowingly, deliberately tell his friend and future king that he was a warlock, that he was Emrys, that he had been lying through his teeth for well over a year and was leading a resistance movement against everything that Uther Pendragon stood for.

That… would probably not go over well.

His first instinct was to cling to that reasoning, to use it as his shield against Gwen's words and as his excuse to keep to the shadows. His mother had conditioned him literally from the day of his birth to stay hidden in the shadows, to keep the magic secret. One of his earliest memories consisted of her making him look at the logs in their fireplace as they blackened and burned and collapsed into little gray piles of ash. This is what will happen to you if anyone finds out, she had told him, all grim and determined and afraid. If anyone realizes that you're a warlock, you will burn just like this wood until there's nothing left of you. That is why you need to keep the magic secret.

But Gwen had a point, didn't she? If Arthur were to find out on his own—if he deduced it like she had or if Sigan forced Merlin's hand or one of the thousand other things that could give him away—that wouldn't go over well either.

If he were to tell Arthur—and he wasn't guaranteeing that he would, just trying to work out a hypothetical question in his head—how would the prince react? He would be upset and angry, yes, and he might accuse Merlin of using him, which the spellbinder supposed was technically true, though it was by no means the extent of their relationship, but…. Arthur was coming to understand, now, just what the Purge really meant. He was learning to see magic for what it really was.

With a start, Merlin realized that he wasn't afraid that Arthur would hand him over to his father. Sometime in the last year, that fear had shriveled into nothingness. Arthur was working voluntarily with Emrys, wielding a sword burnished in dragon fire and tempered in the Lake of Avalon. He'd spoken up for the druids, though not too loudly (which Merlin thought had more to do with not wanting to enter a futile argument with Uther than anything else), and when he'd learned what Merlin had done to protect little Mordred, he'd been more upset that the manservant had endangered himself than that he had smuggled someone sentenced to death outside the citadel.

No, Arthur wouldn't betray him if he knew the truth. Merlin had known that for a while, but this was the first time he'd actually realized it. Warlock or not, Emrys or not, Arthur would protect him from Uther. He wouldn't like lying to his father, but for Merlin's sake and Camelot's and maybe even his own, he would do it.

The smile which lit up Merlin's face was wide and brilliant and didn't disappear even when a trio of teenagers began throwing soggy turnips at his head.

On the other hand, Arthur would be upset, even furious. He would feel hurt and betrayed and used. Merlin would not lose his life by revealing himself to Arthur (not unless the prince did something stupid and exposed him by accident, at least), but there was a huge possibility that he would destroy the friendship between them.

Except that that risk would only increase as he waited, right? If he told Arthur soon (before getting back from Tintagel, he thought, his heart fluttering), then they would have known each other for a year and some months when the prince learned the truth. That meant he would have only kept his secret a few months after subconsciously deciding that he could trust him and just a few weeks since he'd begun interacting with him as Emrys. But if he waited another year or two or three, even after Arthur started actively seeking Emrys out and working with him, then wouldn't that just imply that Merlin didn't trust Arthur at all?

Basically, Merlin thought, Arthur would feel betrayed and hurt no matter when Merlin told him who and what he was, but he'd feel more betrayed and hurt the longer Merlin waited. Which meant that it would be better for their friendship if Merlin told him sooner rather than later. Which meant—his heart skipped a beat—which meant that he should tell him soon, possibly even before they got back from Tintagel. Hell, probably before they got back from Tintagel, since it would be better to tell him away from Camelot.

Because if he knew that Arthur wouldn't have him killed and that secrecy would only exacerbate the prince's sense of betrayal, there was really no good reason not to tell him. Soon. Within the next few days, even.

The bottom fell out of Merlin's stomach. His throat went dry, and cold sweat beaded across his forehead.

Tell Arthur.

Keep the magic secret.

The vegetable throwers—completely ignored by the warlock, who had been so deep in thought that he wouldn't have noticed Cornelius Sigan standing right in front of him making the earth shake and fire rain from the sky—stopped their messy work, noting with alarm that Merlin's face had paled to a nasty, unhealthy-looking greenish-white. They glanced at each other uncertainly, wondering if perhaps one of them had hit the prisoner in the stomach with a particularly large turnip without the others noticing or if someone should go get a bucket, because Merlin really looked like he was about to be sick.

"Do you think we should go get Gaius?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

In the stocks, Merlin was frantically searching for a reason to not tell Arthur. Surely there was one, right? Like—like how if Arthur knew that Merlin was a warlock, he would have to choose between his friend and his father every day.

(Yes, because it's not like Arthur wasn't already doing that with Emrys. Well, sort of, at least.)

Arthur might accidentally slip up if he knew, thereby inadvertently exposing Merlin's secret to some random stranger who would go to the king.

(No one else had slipped up after finding out, and Arthur hadn't told anyone about the light in the Cave of Balor or how he'd awakened on the shores of the Lake of Avalon or even that his manservant had risked his life to save a druid boy. He hadn't told Uther the true extent of his interactions with Emrys. He could keep secrets, even big, important ones like Merlin's true nature.)

Knowing the truth might endanger Arthur.

(How? It wasn't like Uther would have his only son and heir executed. The man had more faults than Merlin could count, but he loved his son. He would never hurt him. If anything, he'd blame Merlin for enchanting him and absolve Arthur of blame entirely.)

It would be extremely awkward to serve as Arthur's manservant if he knew.

(It would be a lot easier to not have to make excuses, though, and they wouldn't have to keep meeting up in the abandoned eastern barracks.)

If he told Arthur that he was Emrys, then… then… then his mother would kill him. Or Gaius would. Or they'd team up and kill him together, and then he would be dead, and that would be extremely counterproductive to his goals.

(…Really?)

Merlin found himself wishing for someone to talk to about this. He knew what everyone would say, of course: Gwen would encourage him to tell, Gaius and his mother (and probably his father too, for that matter), and Kilgharrah would just spout off something cryptic before soaring away into the sunset. Blaise, perhaps? Or maybe Morgana. Or both.

That was what he would do. He would talk with Blaise and Morgana, and then….

And then, perhaps, he would start planning a discussion with Arthur.

Alternate chapter title: "In Which Merlin and Gwen have a Very Important Conversation"

I am extremely sorry for updating a week late. TERM PAPERS SUCK. They are the worst. They are the absolute worst. However, I SHOULD be able to get the next update up in two weeks, on January 13. I suspect that'll include Merlin's conversation with Blaise, another conversation with Gaius, and, heck, maybe we'll see Alator too.

Happy New Year!

-Antares