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“Merlin, you have to be more careful with that!” The breath gets shoved out of Merlin’s lungs as Arthur slams him against the wall of the little house, hands on his shoulders.
Merlin wheezes breath in and out and blinks quickly, hoping, praying that his eyes will have turned back to their normal blue by now. Arthur came out of nowhere and accosted him in the middle of a spell he was casting, and now Arthur has him pressed to a wall, furious unimpressed eyes trained unwaveringly on Merlin’s, and Merlin doesn’t know.
.
Arthur has just finished off one of Kanen’s men, shoving him off his sword with his booth, when he catches sight of Merlin, a few meters to his right, hand outstretched and obviously casting a spell, and far too exposed to be doing anything of the sorts. “For heaven’s sake,” Arthur mutters under his breath, and then he’s racing, because if someone else where to ever find out, Arthur’s task of protecting Merlin would turn 200 times harder than it already was, and it wasn’t exactly a piece of cake.
He shoves his idiot manservant into a wall, and tells him, roughly: “Merlin, you have to be more careful with that!”
Merlin looks at him, guarded and careful, and Arthur looks back steadily. He can feel the thunderous pulse of Merlin’s heart beneath his hands, and Arthur realizes that Merlin is terrified, even as he takes on that wry expression of his, all innocent eyes and lopsided smile. “Careful with what?” he asks, and he looks so appealing that Arthur almost lets it go. It would be easier to protect Merlin if Merlin remained under the impression that Arthur didn’t know. Couldn’t risk him getting too confident with his magic if he thought he didn’t need to hide it anymore. But Merlin had looked frankly terrified before, and Arthur hated that look on his face— he wanted Merlin to know he could trust Arthur, he wanted Merlin to confide in him and speak to him openly, and that would never happen as long as Merlin felt he had to hide his true nature from him.
“You know with what,” Arthur snaps, pushing Merlin further into the wall.
“With my shoddy footwork and ridiculous sword waving?” Merlin grins cheekily.
“Well, that too.” Arthur deadpans and then cuffs Merlin on the head when he notices his furtive sidelong glance. “No, idiot, with your magic.” He hisses.
“Oh. You saw that?”
“Be blind not to see, really.” Arthur grumbles, rolling his eyes. “I really can’t figure out how you haven’t been caught before, but if you don’t want to end up executed before you can even say magic you have to be more careful. What if Morgana had seen you? Or Guinevere? If they told Uther it would be over, Merlin. There’d be no way I could protect you anymore.”
Merlin splutters. It’s adorably really, the way his eyes go wide, and he gapes and fumbles for words, except for how it isn’t. Except for how it is a matter of life and death, and Arthur doesn’t know what will come of this. Except for how afraid and flustered Merlin looks as he blurts out “You knew about this?”
“Be blind not to see.” Arthur repeats. “Blind or a fool. And I’m really neither, Merlin.”
.
Arthur’s eyes flash, the warning clear. “I know that,” Merlin whispers, looking at Arthur from beneath his eyelids. “I just don’t understand how…”
Arthur tsk’s, tilting Merlin’s chin up. “Let’s see. You come to Camelot and are the only one not covered by spider’s web after the witch sings her aria. Valiant’s snakes come out of his shield all on their own, and there you are behind him, looking as chipper as ever. The wind suddeny picks up as we're fighting the clay monster in the cave. And then you go and confess in front of the court to save Gwen. Really, Merlin, one of those on their own isn’t suspicious, but when I started to put them together… also, honestly, you’re the worst servant ever, and yet my shield had never been that well-polished— there had to be an explanation.”
“You prat!” Merlin exclaims, relieved. Arthur knew. Arthur knew. And he hadn’t said a word to Uther, to anyone. And he had been protecting him—
“Argh!” one of Kanen’s men has spotted them and starts at a full run towards them. Merlin had almost forgotten they were still fighting and from Arthur’s struck expression, he gathers he is not the only one. The noises of the battle slowly bleed back into his consciousness, Arthur is whirling away and raising his sword to parry the blow, the surprise on his face making place for determination: his jaw clenching, his face tightening and Merlin is gathering his magic before he even thinks about it, now that he no longer has to worry about Arthur finding out the only conscious thing in his mind is pure rage, pure hatred for these men, these men that have come to his home town, have taken and taken and taken, have hurt his mother and are now threatening his Arthur, his destiny.
Merlin launches out his hand and the man staggers, his face contorts into a grimace, his eyes squeeze shut as he starts falling to his knees, and then Arthur is there, raising his sword, higher and higher before he strikes it down in one terrible blow—
“Yeah. Okay.” Arthur says, turning back to Merlin, one eyebrow arched, “what did we just talk about, you—”
“Idiot. Yeah, yeah, I know.” And he just catches Arthur’s affronted expression make place for an amused one. “Look, Arthur. I can help, okay? I’m powerful. I’ll cripple them, and you finish them off. And I know you don’t need help,” he blows out air harshly through his noise, cutting Arthur off before he even has the chance to speak, “but these men do. I mean, just look at them.” He gestures around the field, where the farmers of Ealdor are holding Kanen’s men off as best as they can, and honestly, doing a miserably poor job of it. “If it weren’t for you and Morgana, they’d be dead by now. I’ll be careful but come on Arthur. Together, we can take them.”
Arthur is pursing his lips and nodding, slow and steady and ready. “Okay, Merlin. Do your worst.” And with that, he jumps back into the fray.
.
After it is over, after the fight has been won and Arthur’s wounds have been tended to, Merlin can finally let the conversation they had sink in. If Arthur has known about Merlin’s magic this whole time, then Merlin is safe. Then Merlin can go back to Camelot, and can keep on being Gaius’ apprentice, can keep on being Arthur’s servant, and if he’s lucky, Arthur’s friend, stinky feet in his face and all.
His mother is smiling meaningfully at him, eyebrows arched in that way she does, that way that tells him I know what you’re thinking and I’m always right, and his eyes flicker over to where Arthur is sitting, being thanked by villagers repeatedly, and looking a bit bashful at all the praise.
“He’s a good man,” his mother whispers into his ear, startling him a bit, and Merlin smiles. “Yeah. He is.”
“Merlin.” Arthur calls, mouthing ‘save me’ and Merlin jogs up to him. He clears his throat, loadly: “His majesty would like to thank you for all your praise by giving a speech.” and clasping Arthur on his back, he is gone by the time his words have sunken in fully, and though Arthur’s look promises retribution, he can’t do nothing but laugh.
He thinks back to their conversation and thinks that yes, he’s had all the luck in the world, and he has found a place for himself.
And yes, he knows that the threat of Uther finding out will still be looming in his background, that it will be a long time before he will be able to truly feel safe in Camelot, and be able to truly be himself, but for now, this— Arthur wincing so imperceptibly as the villagers clap, that Merlin wouldn’t even notice it if he didn’t knew him so well; this, his fond gaze on Merlin— is more than enough.