So I honestly opened a new Word doc to work on the next chapter of 'Paranoia', but somehow this is what ended up on the page. I think it's highly possible that my brain has overdosed on writing whump in the last few days, and it clearly rebelled when I asked it for more angst. Hence, my Inner Nut took over, and created this slightly twisted take on a reveal fic... I'd like to add that any questions on the subject of my sanity can be directed to my doctor. And any questions regarding the the suitability of using the term 'slightly twisted' in the description of this one-shot should be directed to my lawyer, as I can't answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me...

I don't own Merlin.

Merlin was a very busy man, and most days found him rushing around doing various jobs for Arthur, Gaius, and any number of people who decided that the King's servant was the only person they could possibly ask to do such-and-such a favour for them.

Quite apart from polishing armour, sharpening swords, avoiding maces, and strategically hiding sausages from the King, there was the collecting of endless herbs for Gaius (who, Merlin suspected, purposely chose those herbs that were furthest away from Camelot, thus ensuring Merlin would be out of the way for the better part of a day), delivering medicine to nobles and peasants alike, and the (another possibly time-wasting exercise designed to keep Merlin out of the way) disgusting task of de-sliming the leech tank.

Actually, Merlin was of the firm belief that his guardian had a bit of a secret life, for the old man certainly made sure that Merlin was kept busy enough not to snoop.

Anyway... between the chores for his King and his guardian – and all those other little jobs, like apologising to large angry men who suspected their wives of a little naughty behaviour (thanks, Gwaine), and consoling kitchen wenches after a doomed love affair (once again, Gwaine had a lot to answer for) – there wasn't a lot of time left over for Merlin to do a lot of thinking. But when he did think, it was usually about the one subject that was always on his mind.

One day, Arthur was going to find out his secret. There was no getting around it, it was simply inevitable. And though Merlin had started off very much wanting to reveal his alter-ego, he had recently begun to realise that it would perhaps be wiser (not to mention safer) for all those concerned if he kept his secret to himself. After all, even apart from the fact that it was going to shock the hell out of Arthur, the King was also going to be extremely angry; especially after all those times he had denied some of the frighteningly too-close-for-comfort accusations.

So, in the interests of being prepared, Merlin would often lie on his bed after another exhausting day, and conjure up various scenarios in which Arthur discovered the truth. He would then proceed to envision what Arthur might say, and in turn would compose suitable – and above all, calm – responses to the King's possible words.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Well, my lord, it's not something that can generally be brought into a typical conversation."

That was a good start, for example. Or...

"This is stupid. Why would you say that?"

"Because I couldn't keep hiding anymore."

Short, simple, and above all, truthful. That wasn't bad, either. Definitely better than...

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. I would know."

"Well, sire, you're not exactly famed for being overly perceptive."

Which, granted, hadn't been one of his better ideas.

Still, over the years, Merlin had envisioned numerous potential conversations that would result from his Big Reveal, but never – not once – had he thought of anything that remotely resembled the situation that he now found himself in.

A situation that saw Arthur stood a few feet ahead of him with his jaw almost touching the floor; an expression which, if Merlin wasn't mistaken, wasn't unlike the one on his own face.

And as they each stood staring at each other like a couple of frozen statues – statues that looked suspiciously like a pair of astonished kippers – there was also a disturbingly lack of conversation to be found.

There was utter silence, in fact; well, except from the odd 'um' and 'er' that Merlin suspected was leaking out of his gaping mouth.

There'd been a moment when Merlin had thought Arthur was actually about to say something; the King had slowly blinked – which had been somewhat of a relief, for surely a person wasn't meant to stare for such a long period of time – and Merlin had held his breath. Thankfully, he'd quickly sucked in some more air when he realised he would be in danger of passing out from lack of oxygen long before Arthur would be capable of forming a sentence.

So they continued to stare at each other, neither of them willing to make the first move. Merlin began to twist the fingers currently linked over his chest, and Arthur once again blinked, this time adding a frown to his hitherto blank features, as he changed the angle of his gaze and homed in on Merlin's obviously nervous gesture.

And still, Merlin could not think of anything to say.

It was just so stupid. Of all the ways to find out, this had to be the most banal. Merlin had just returned from one of his night-time wanderings, and had snuck past a sleeping Gaius (or what he thought was a sleeping Gaius; the lump on the physician's bed had looked a little too pillow-like to Merlin, but he hadn't explored his suspicions seeing as he was the last person to throw stones about people having secrets) in order to get to his room and change into more Merlin-like clothes.

He'd got as far as removing the outfit that was so incriminating, and, standing in only his undergarments, was in the process of reaching for one of his trusty tunics, when he had heard something clang in the background. Of course, his immediate reaction had been to turn around with his hands raised... which had definitely been a bad move on his part, for of course Arthur had been the person responsible for the clang from moments before, and proceeded to point a shaking accusatory finger in Merlin's general direction.

"You..."

"Um."

"You have..."

"Er..."

And that had been the extent of their entire conversation so far, after apparently mutually agreeing that actions definitely spoke louder than words.

Only... now that the initial shock was beginning to wear off, Merlin was starting to think of all those conversations he had envisioned, and he found himself racking his brains for a way to make one of them more than just an imaginary discussion.

The trouble was, whenever he had pictured being discovered, he'd never imagined that he would be caught in the somewhat embarrassing state of almost-nakedness. And despite wanting to grab at the safety of his tunic and breeches, he found that he couldn't unfreeze his fingers from their locked position in order to cover himself more decently.

Merlin had always been on the wrong side of slender, and usually made a point of covering up as much of his body that he could. But since arriving at Camelot – where there was literally an army of beefy knights, each of them roughly three times the size of Merlin – he had been even more self-conscious about his less-than-muscular frame.

And now Arthur was staring at him as if he had grown an extra set of limbs overnight. So to speak.

Arthur coughed.

Merlin cleared his throat.

Arthur coughed again, and made a funny little gesture with his hand.

"Um...?" said Merlin.

"Ah... clothes."

"Oh."

Feeling heat rise in his cheeks, Merlin swiftly turned around and thrust his arms into his tunic, before grabbing his breeches and hauling them up his shaking legs. Once he was covered up again, he turned to face the King.

"That's still not right," Arthur muttered, causing Merlin to frown, and to hastily check that he hadn't done something so silly as leaving his breeches undone, or putting his tunic on back to front. Then –

"Oh!"

He patted his neck and searched the area for one of his neckerchiefs; the neckerchiefs that were such a huge part of his quirky little disguise. Spotting a faded blue piece of cloth, he reached for it and quickly tied it around his neck.

"Better?" he said anxiously.

"Well, you look more like you, anyway," mumbled the King.

"I'm still the same person."

Arthur raised a pair of disbelieving brows.

"No, really, I am!"

"Really."

"Yes! Well, I may have hidden one or two things from you..."

"You think?"

Merlin bit his lip, and waited for the sudden silence to be broken.

"So... how long?"

"Huh?"

"How long were you going to continue to hide this from me?"

"Ah..."

"I see. You weren't planning on telling me at all, were you?"

"Well, it did seem to be the better course of action, sire."

"Hmm. It appears that you're not as bad a liar as I'd previously thought. That's not a compliment, by the way."

"I sort of gathered that."

"Quite skilled in the art of deception, in fact."

"I'd like to think so, yes."

Arthur glared.

"And too clever by half, if I'm not mistaken."

Merlin averted his gaze and bit his lip again.

"So... not an idiot, then."

"No," he mumbled. "It's just another part of my charm."

"So."

"So?"

"What now?"

"Er... I don't know?"

"Still ridiculous," the blonde muttered.

"Well to be fair, Arthur, you're not exactly giving me any clues here. I told you, I'm still the same person. What happens next is entirely up to you. Personally, I don't think anything has to change."

"You don't? You don't think that it changes everything? I thought I knew you!"

"You do know me!"

"Really?"

"Really! Just because I'm a-"

"No. Don't say it. Please."

"Arthur, not saying it won't make it any less true."

"All those times you were accused, Merlin..."

"I know."

"All these years..."

"I know."

"And all along..."

"Yes..."

"All along... you really were a girl."

And as the King left the room – his head shaking and his arms raised in exasperation – he sounded a little more shocked, but a lot less angry... and Merlin smiled.

Or at least, Merlene smiled, anyway.