Chapter Text
If there was one thing Merlin despised most about his, erm, unique personality, it was his complete inability to hide his emotional distress from others.
He severely lacked the skill and mindset to make himself a stone-faced mannequin who gave away little information as to the whereabouts of his train of thoughts, something Arthur, Morgana and even Gwen managed with such ease it was almost frightening to Merlin and made him feel more alien amongst his friends than he already felt amongst the important people of Camelot.
And Merlin was finding it increasingly more difficult to parry Arthur's barrage of annoying and unfairly adept questions— "And just where exactly did the dragon go after I dealt it this fatal blow, Merlin?" "How were you alone left standing when all the other knights and myself were struck down, Merlin?" — so that half of his time spent in Arthur's presence summated to Merlin biting his bottom lip and cringing with exasperation when Arthur bared down on him again with another fit of disturbingly probing inquiries, some of which were getting far too close to uncovering Merlin's best kept secret.
Merlin was also painfully aware of Arthur's continued attempts at this friendly façade, despite their hierarchal relationship, which Merlin could not pretend as if it did not make his heart skip that Arthur was actually attempting to treat them as (at least as much as was possible between a prince and a servant) equals. Unfortunately his timing could not be any worse as Merlin was not in the mood to indulge Arthur.
To put it bluntly, Merlin was being assaulted with too many emotions for one young man to function properly and it was beginning to wear on him physically now. The memory of his father's last act to save his son whom he'd only known for a number of hours haunted his every sleeping night and the worry that Arthur was beginning to put the pieces together pervaded his waking hours. Merlin took on an automatous persona that everyone commented on to each other but no one could bring himself to talk to Merlin personally. This suited the young man just fine because as far as Merlin was concerned, the less he talked to Arthur, the less likely it would be that Arthur would finally drag the truth out of him.
As always, Merlin underestimated Arthur's persistence to get what he wanted. There were times when Merlin would willingly talk and joke around with Arthur and Arthur would want nothing to do with him. But now that the tables were turned and Arthur wanted Merlin's company, he wasn't going to stop pestering Merlin until he got the answers he was searching for. Merlin would not mind if he knew what exactly Arthur was trying to find and because he didn't, this awkward dance was far too risky to take part in.
Unfortunately for Merlin, Arthur was the prince and Merlin was his manservant and that meant Arthur could pull rank on him whenever he saw fit and of course Arthur deemed this a most crucial time to remind Merlin just whom he was.
"Merlin, as the prince and future king of Camelot, I order you to tell me why you've been moping about as though you do not have the best job in all of the kingdom. There are many blokes who would willing take your place at any time and I may just entertain the idea if you don't stop acting like such a sad sack of shite."
Merlin shrugged his shoulders and grunted as if that settled matters entirely. He continued to scrub Arthur's armour, though he had been scrubbing the same immaculately polished spot for the last fifteen minutes.
"Merlin! I am the bloody prince and you have to answer me when I address you!" Arthur's heart wasn't in the comment, which meant that Merlin didn't actually have to answer him.
He did mumble, "yes sire," half-heartedly and Arthur finally gave up and left Merlin alone and sulking in his chambers. Merlin knew it wouldn't be the end but he was happy for the reprieve.
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"Merlin, can you take this potion to Lord Brickenden on your way to the castle?" Gaius asked of Merlin as he trudged his way sleepily toward the table to eat his porridge before he was to meet Arthur on the practice grounds for a mock-battle with the other knights. It was going to run most of the day and Merlin wasn't looking forward to it, not that he was particularly looking forward to anything as of late.
Merlin rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye and then yawned. "Today is the mock-battle so I won't be going to the castle until noon when the knights break for lunch," he said while spooning some porridge into his mouth.
He heard Gaius curse, saying, "I had forgotten. No matter, Merlin, I'll go there myself when I've finished here. Have you packed some cheese and bread for yourself?"
Merlin seemed to have not heard what Gaius had asked because a couple of minutes later Gaius said sharply, "Merlin!" and the young man jumped, causing his chair to slip from beneath him and as Merlin grasped at the table to keep from falling on his arse, his hand tipped the porridge bowl and it would have splattered into his face if he hadn't stopped it all from happening. Well he'd only managed to save his breakfast; his backside still collided harshly with the floor. He grunted, upturning his porridge bowl onto the table once more and roughly gathering up his chair and plopping back into it. After all this, Merlin had forgotten what caused all this to happen in the first place.
Gaius was unimpressed and sat across from Merlin at the table. "Merlin, what is troubling you so?" Merlin heard him this time, but he tried pointedly ignoring him.
"Is it your father?" Gaius asked, knowing fully well this would spark Merlin's attention. As suspected Merlin's head shot up and he looked at Gaius with a sort of hatred he would never normally convey toward the old man. The anger flashed away as quickly as it had come, but Gaius noticed it and retreated from the conversation, leaving Merlin equally angry and ashamed of himself.
When Merlin had finished getting dressed to leave the house, he found Gaius had packed him the cheese and bread he'd asked about, which did not lighten his mood any. This was probably the worst possible start to his day, which was only going to get worse as the sun drove its way higher into the cloudless sky.
Arthur was all smiles when Merlin walked toward Uther's knights queuing on the practice field. Arthur's happiness fueled a stirring of uneasiness inside Merlin's chest. He rubbed his palm over his face. This day was turning out to be entirely too long already and the men hadn't even started sparring yet.
Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder as he approached, so roughly he almost knocked Merlin face-first into the dirt. Arthur chuckled lowly, but cut off quickly when he saw that Merlin was not smiling. "Alright mate?" Arthur asked, looking intently into Merlin's eyes. Merlin's stomach flopped uneasily under Arthur's gaze and he was fairly certain this was not the reaction Arthur was trying to entice from him. If Merlin were not completely submerged in his own self pity, he would have marveled at Arthur's use of the word 'mate,' and grinned at his (friend?) charge with elated satisfaction.
As it were, Merlin was drowning himself in a self-made porridge of degradation and took no delight in Arthur attempting (once again) to show interest in the feelings of his fumbling manservant. Merlin said nothing in return to Arthur's question, though he did hold the other man's eyes for what was apparently an uncomfortable amount of time, because he could now hear the clinking of chainmail and armor as the other knights shifted around and coughed indiscreetly. This broke Arthur's focus and he walked away from Merlin and plastered a grin on his face for his knights, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.
Merlin had seen these men doing this very activity so many times he should probably have been able to spar quite well himself. Merlin's hand-eye coordination was complete rubbish, however, and though he could successfully protect himself with a sword for a short amount of time if the need presented itself, he would never defeat another man in a sword fight—at least not a fair fight that included no magical interference on his part.
On more than one occasion the men had made Merlin join them for some half-cocked sparring joviality, in which Merlin always ended up in the dirt on his arse glaring daggers at the knights, who laughed heartily and helped him to his feet and quelled his anger just as quickly as they had raised it. Today was not one of the days that Merlin wanted to play knight and he was hoping that his annoyed expression and stiff posture would convey this to the knights who seemed entirely too cheerful to Merlin.
As the men broke off into partners, Merlin found his gaze drifting from one pair to the next, contemplating which man had the upper hand in each couple. Arthur had never been bested by any of the knights, but there were a few that held strong against the prince, even if they did fall short in the end. Merlin let his eyes settle upon Arthur, watching as the man instructed his partner at how he could better parry Arthur's blows and showed him stronger stances and swifter swings. Eventually Arthur had them all switch partners to keep them fresh and on their toes and he forwent his own partner in order to walk through the other groups and instruct them as best he could.
Merlin had never seen Uther fight nor had he ever seen him instruct the knights, but he was fairly certain that Arthur's father did not have the patience and understanding that his son did to keep these men continually challenged but also happy to be doing what they were doing. This was no slight on Uther—rather it augmented the fact that Uther had given a prodigious effort in raising not only a fair and compassionate man, but also a brilliant and inspiring new leader for Camelot. Though it may not have been his intention, the king, through Arthur, had secured the kingdom a better future than he himself could offer.
If Merlin held up the image he had had of Arthur when he first met him against the man he knew Arthur to be now, he could easily see how Arthur improved and bettered himself every day in the face of adversity and change. This quality was something that his father lacked and this was the reason, above all else, that Arthur would be both a better man and a better ruler than his father. In fact, in Merlin's opinion, Arthur had already succeeded in the former.
As though he could feel that Merlin was thinking about him, Arthur's gaze drifted toward Merlin, who was propped up against the sword rack, fingering a piece of grass as if it were a precious jewel. Merlin was not even entirely aware of the fact that he was staring at Arthur with unblinking focus, which was probably why Arthur's eyebrows crept up ever so slightly on his forehead. Eventually he offered Merlin a small, almost private smile that Merlin found himself returning without recognition that he was doing so. This was Merlin's greatest mistake; this was apparently the reassurance that Arthur had been searching for and opened up the opportunity for Arthur to pester Merlin even more mercilessly than he had been previously.
Arthur draped his arm, heavy from the weight of the chainmail, across Merlin's shoulders as they made their way back to Arthur's chambers after the sparring had ended. "See Merlin, I knew you were not enjoying being such a miserable sod, so out with it already. What's got your knickers in a knot?"
Merlin looked incredulously at Arthur, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be sulking. This look obviously pleased Arthur because his smirk was almost too smug to even be considered natural on any one person's face. "Now now, don't go looking slighted. If you'd just tell me the problem we could all move on with our lives."
As they entered Arthur's chambers, Merlin turned to Arthur and retorted, "The only person that is investing such irrational interest in my woes is you, Arthur Pendragon." Merlin smiled, only a slight upturn in the corner of his mouth, but noticeable enough that Arthur laughed heartily.
"So you admit that you have woes, Merlin—this is good. The next step is to get out with what they are so that I can reassure you and you can get back to being my source of amusement." Arthur went to stand in his usual place so that Merlin could undress his armour.
He would never admit it, but Arthur was actually cheering him up, however reluctant Merlin might be. "How unsurprisingly arrogant of you to assume you could solve any problems I might have, sire." This landed Merlin the same incredulous look from Arthur that Merlin was just wearing moments ago.
"I take great insult from that, Merlin. To assume one is brilliant in all matters of the heart, mind and body is to be arrogant, but to actually be astute in all these areas is just pure factual information." Earlier in their comradery, Merlin would have been certain Arthur truly believed himself to be all these things, but having spent enough time with the other man had shown Merlin that Arthur had insecurities just like anyone else.
Merlin had finally removed all of Arthur's outer armour and was helping him out of his chainmail when he sniggered at Arthur's ridiculous statement. When the prince's face emerged from beneath the chain mail, however, his face was quite serious. "Merlin, what has been bothering you? Is it Balinor?"
Merlin tried to compose his face and his breathing at the mention of his father. He knew for certain that Arthur only meant the circumstance in which Merlin had seen the man die, but sometimes he felt as though Arthur really could read him better than he let on.
"Merlin," Arthur spoke, placing a hand on the slender man's shoulder. "It was not your fault. You didn't force him in front of that blade." Arthur knew now that Balinor—his father—had sacrificed himself to let Merlin live. These smaller details always surfaced whenever they had recapped their many unfortunate adventures. "He acted of his own free will and he obviously felt that saving your life was much nobler than letting you fall. I understand your guilt, but you have to be grateful that he ensured you another day to live or his sacrifice was in vain." Arthur, of course, had had many a man sacrifice his life to save the prince and he had long since learned that he could not dwell on the guilt.
What Arthur said was true, of course, but he did not know just how dear Balinor had really been to the young warlock. Arthur was still looking at Merlin, waiting for some sign that his words had hit home.
"You're right. Thanks Arthur," Merlin replied and he was truly grateful that Arthur cared enough to worry about his problems. And while his words did not really ease the guilt that twisted at Merlin's subconscious every night, it did make him appreciate Arthur a little more than he did before.
Arthur squeezed Merlin's shoulder and then released it, giving Merlin a sad and knowing smile. Merlin was still just standing there and Arthur laughed, making note that Merlin was failing miserably at undressing his armour at the moment. An awkward laugh escaped Merlin's lips and he went back to putting away the armour.
When Merlin had finished filling the tub for Arthur to take a bath, he was going to take his leave so that Arthur could bathe in peace, but Arthur stopped him with a drawl of Merlin's name, which put all of the paler man's senses on alert. Arthur was going to ask him questions again. He stood in the doorframe with his fingernails digging half moons into his palms, his back so rigid he could serve as a perfectly straight board. "Yes, sire?" He could take solace in the fact that at least Arthur was facing in the other direction and could not see his reaction.
"Tell me again what happened when I was knocked out by the dragon." Arthur tried to make it sound as though he was asking for a retelling of a favoured bedtime story. Unfortunately Arthur was a bit too transparent when he was trying to pry information from someone. Actually, Merlin was not at all certain that Arthur was even trying to conceal this fact.
Merlin allowed himself to lean against the wall near the door, hoping this would relieve some of the tension that was radiating through his body. "There's nothing to tell, really. I mean, like I told you before, after you wounded him, he took flight and within minutes he dropped from the sky." Though his story had not changed since he told it to Arthur the first five times, he knew that it was not satisfying Arthur's suspicion.
"Right," drawled Arthur again, rubbing soap over his arms. Merlin found himself looking at the back of Arthur's neck, tracing the lines where his shoulders began and down the slope of his bicep to his forearm. Merlin was studying the protrusion of Arthur's spine, tracing from the neck down, down, down, "But the thing is, Merlin…no body was found when the men searched the forest."
Arthur's voice brought Merlin back into the room and he shook his head and looked at Arthur's bed instead of the naked man in the bathing tub. Sometimes, he knew, Arthur liked to get out of his bath and crawl into his bed completely nude and now Merlin could see a faint outline of a blond haired man lying in those luxurious sheets—"Merlin!"
"What? Sorry, what sire?" Merlin rubbed his eyes as if that would erase the image from his mind.
Arthur turned to look at Merlin then, giving him the standard 'do you have extraneous hearing problems, you unbelievably thick dolt' look and finally turned back around and continued washing himself.
"They never found a body, Merlin. What happened to the body if the dragon is dead?" Merlin wanted to groan, but doing that would probably not serve to support his innocence in the matter. He let his legs slip forward from underneath him so that he was sitting now, leaning against the wall, so close to the door where he could escape from having this conversation once again.
"I told you, Arthur," Merlin said, annoyance only colouring his words in hopes that Arthur would take it as a sign that Merlin had nothing to hide and was tired of repeating the same answers to the same bloody questions over and over again. "Dragons are practically brimming with magic and Gaius said their bodies don't decompose like humans. He probably evaporated into dust and blew away in the wind." Okay so it sounded entirely lame, even to Merlin, but Arthur's knowledge of magic was naught, thanks to Uther's ignorance in trying to pretend something that most certainly existed, did not, in fact, exist at all.
"Magic…probably…right…" Came Arthur's reply, utterly disbelieving. Merlin pretended that Arthur did not seem to draw out the word 'magic' as an accusation against him. Arthur has no idea, he reassured himself, but Merlin knew as well as anyone that Arthur was not as blind as Uther was.
"Have you ever noticed," Arthur said suddenly, with such a different tone that Merlin thought he had decided to change the subject. He couldn't help but feel wholly relieved at this notion, "that every time we fell a foe of magical inclination, I somehow am unconscious or looking the other way when that miraculous blow is made? Yet you are always there, insisting that I had everything to do with bringing it about. Have you noticed that, Merlin?"
Merlin glared at the back of Arthur's head, imagining himself throwing a particularly heavy candlestick at it and rendering the blond man unconscious right then just to spite him. Both he and Gaius had feared the day when Arthur would piece these things together, because they knew it was only a matter of time. Upon that circumstance, Merlin was going to find out if Arthur truly was more progressive than his father. And now the day was finally dawning that Merlin was no longer going to be able to flightily explain away all the occasions in which Arthur had done things that he truly had not done and expect him to still believe him.
But Merlin wasn't ready. Not yet. Not ever. He would rather go to his grave swearing that Arthur was too thick to see the truth behind Merlin's actions. He supposed that he had not noticed it before, but what really seemed to wrench the unbelievable knotting pain in his stomach was the thought of Arthur rejecting him when he finally figured it out. Yes, Arthur would be a better king than Uther ever was, but that did not mean that Arthur was any less adverse to magic than his father was. Merlin had heard Arthur's words all too clearly after Morgause had 'enlightened' Arthur about his birth. Merlin could remember exactly where each word had stabbed into his heart and pierced into his very soul. It is once again clear to me that those who practice magic are evil and dangerous. And that is thanks to you.
"No, Arthur. I've never noticed anything like that," Merlin spoke, voice as even and collected as he could manage, but he had to wipe a hand at his eyes to disperse the water that was pooling in them. He stood up and said pointedly, "Shall I take my leave, sire, so you may finish your bath? I will return when you are ready for me to turn down the bed."
Arthur sat still as he listened to Merlin leave the room and he leaned back against the metal of the tub, sighing audibly. He was still waiting for Merlin to tell him the truth and he was beginning to see that no matter how much he hinted that he already knew, his friend was never going to be honest with him. Arthur knew that this should have no bearing on his heart, but he couldn't deny the hurt he felt when Merlin again found him unsuitable to bear the knowledge of his gift.