Chapter Text
"No."
Merlin knew before he turned around, just from that single broken word, that he'd been seen. He did turn around, because while he'd been a coward to not confess to his secrets of his own free will, he'd long ago decided not to be a coward when the consequences inevitably found him.
Arthur's expression was hard to read, which was enough to make tears prick at the corner of Merlin's eyes. He blinked, fighting back the moisture. He couldn't allow Arthur to think he was trying to weaponize his emotions, even while Arthur was burying his. Merlin rarely struggled to read Arthur. They'd lived in close quarters for far too many years for the king to be much of a secret to his servant, and that was without factoring in all Merlin understood about Arthur as the king's lover, though he hadn't held that role for quite as long.
The outside world began, very slowly, to make itself known once more, and Merlin blinked, distracted as a groaning sound came from behind him. He turned, just enough to ensure the bandit he'd thrown through the air was not about to shoot him in the back, then turned back to face Arthur.
Arthur's gaze darted to the man too, seemingly assessing the lack of imminent danger Merlin had also noted. "You didn't kill him," Arthur observed, the words devoid of any clues as to how Arthur was feeling. The king looked Merlin in the eyes then, with a question he didn't voice.
"If I don't have to kill, I don't," Merlin said simply. And he hadn't needed to here. He'd only intervened at all because Arthur had been distracted felling the two bandits that lay behind him now, both clearly not breathing. Merlin's target had pointed a crossbow at Arthur's back. Reacting on instinct had sent the man flying. If he'd had a second more to think, he might have simply redirected the bolt, but Arthur's back had been turned, and perhaps, deep down, Merlin had been tired of carrying this secret still.
Arthur nodded, seemingly accepting Merlin's words at face value. "How long?" he asked after another long pause.
"My whole life." Merlin struggled not to fidget under the weight of Arthur's scrutiny. "I was born with it."
Something in Arthur's eyes flashed. "I have been taught that such a thing is not possible."
"You've been taught a lot of horseshite," Merlin muttered, before clearing his throat and straightening, wincing at the words he'd allowed to escape.
Arthur's lips twitched, just for a second, before his expression firmed and he nodded to Merlin to explain.
"I'm the only magic-user I've ever heard of to have magical control from birth," Merlin admitted, a fact which still made him feel distressingly other when he thought about it too long, "but being born with an affinity for magic is not uncommon at all. There are those who choose to study sorcery, and those who must learn in order to better control magic they already have. I fall into the latter category." After a brief second of consideration, Merlin reluctantly added, "as does your sister."
Staggering backwards, Arthur gaped at him for a moment, his face suddenly open in a way it hadn't been since before the bandit attack. "What?!" the king demanded, horror taking over his features.
Maybe mentioning Morgana so soon into this conversation had been a mistake, but Merlin was running mostly off instinct. "I regret not being more honest with her earlier. I knew she was afraid." Merlin licked his lips, considering his words carefully. "But so was I. And I let that fear keep me from letting her know she wasn't alone. And in her loneliness, she went to Morgause, an expert in twisting Morgana's fear and anger."
Arthur's expression remained open enough for Merlin to clearly see the way his king was connecting new facts to old memories, and attaching context to questions he'd likely had for quite some time. Merlin kept quiet and let him do so, doing his best to breathe deeply and evenly.
"So you knew, all along." Arthur's face had closed off once more, but it didn't matter. Merlin heard the hurt in his lover's voice loud and clear.
He couldn't run from this truth though. Arthur deserved it. "That she was magic, and when she had turned against us. Yes. I knew."
The king's eyes slid shut, and another quiet beat passed before Arthur opened them again. "Is that why she hates you? I've always found it odd, that she hates you as much as she hates me."
Merlin winced. "I'd argue she hates me more. And no, she doesn't know about my magic, Arthur. No one does. Any friend I've ever had who came to hold that knowledge died, either for me or because of me. It is not something I share lightly. I've declared who I am to more of your enemies than I ever have to any of my friends." Merlin could see the question in Arthur's eyes, so he pressed on, preferring not to address that for the moment. "Morgana hates me because, while she still considered herself loyal to Camelot, I poisoned her. Her hatred only grows with each time I stand between her and your life. She views me as a nuisance, which I'm quite proud of."
Arthur studied his face, and Merlin stood still and let him, unsure both what Arthur was looking for and what he was finding.
"You had a good reason," Arthur finally said. It was a statement, not a guess. "I may not know you as well as I believed, but the Merlin I knew would not have harmed Morgana without cause. What was your reason?"
Merlin repressed a flinch at his king's use of the past tense, but answered the question. "The sleeping curse. She was the anchor. I've never known if she was aware, or if Morgause involved her without her knowledge. Regardless, I tricked her into drinking poison, then bargained with Morgause. If she lifted the sleeping curse, I would give her the name of the poison I used so she could cure Morgana. It worked. And I've regretted it ever since, even as I know I would do it all over again to keep you alive."
Arthur inhaled sharply, but said nothing. He allowed the silence to stretch for several moments before nodding. "I believe you. And I'm sure you have many more such stories to tell me."
Unable to stop himself, Merlin perked up, certain the hope bubbling in his chest was visible on his face. "And I'll have the chance? To tell you, I mean. Everything."
In an instant, Arthur's mask was cracked in too, and a stricken look took over his face. "How could you fear death at my hand and share my bed?" he asked, so quietly the pain was nearly louder than his words.
Merlin moved toward his king for the first time, taking comfort in the fact that Arthur didn't flinch from him. He rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder, shaking his head. "No, Arthur, that's not what I meant. I haven't believed you could have me killed, on your own order or by your father before you, since the first few weeks of my service to you. I've known since you faced Valiant and his enchanted shield that you were a better man than your father had ever been capable of being, and that no matter how you reacted when you inevitably learned my secrets, you would not kill me."
The stricken expression didn't fade from Arthur's face. If anything, it grew more pronounced. "You've trusted me with your life for that long, but not with the truth?"
Merlin squeezed Arthur's shoulder where his hand still sat, thinking over how the words to use. "There has been no time where having that knowledge would not have forced you into a decision I did not want to rest on your shoulders, Arthur. You don't trust magic. You never have. You do not demonize it as your father once did, but it has never been a thing you trust. Knowing that, coming clean would have you either pardoning me as an exception to the law, banishing me for my own safety, banishing me in punishment, or changing the law. The first would be unfair in a way I know you to be too good for. The last I've never been given any reason to assume you are ready to consider. And I am far more afraid of being banished from your side than I have ever been of death."
Arthur reached up to rest his hand on top of Merlin's, though he did not look Merlin in the eyes as he asked, "How could you agree to be courted by me, knowing this massive untruth lay between us?"
Merlin sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead on top of Arthur's hand, and squeezing his own hand on Arthur's shoulder once more. "You asked," he replied, a little desperately. "You put your heart out, taking that risk. And turning you away, even if it might have been the noble thing to do, knowing I was lying, was not another lie I could subject you to. Because I do love you, Arthur. More than anything. And it would have been cruel of me to deny you that truth, even if there were others you were owed that I chose not to give." He sighed once more, then lifted his head, surprised to find Arthur looking at him once more. "Is it unforgivable?" The words were nearly a breath.
Arthur gripped Merlin's hand, pulling it from his shoulder, giving it a short squeeze, then letting it go. "I don't know," he said simply.
Had Merlin taken the bandit's crossbow bolt to his heart, it would have hurt less, but he did his best not to let it show. "I understand. I will tell you anything you want to know, whatever you need to know in order to make a decision. Every secret I have ever kept from you ties back to my magic. Now that you know that, there is nothing I would keep from you, Arthur."
"In time." Arthur sighed now, looking around to take stock of the clearing. "I suppose it's luck we didn't have an entire hunting party to deal with. We should go home. I am no longer in the mood for..." he trailed off.
Merlin could easily finish the thought. It was meant to be a short adventure, a romantic walk together on a lovely day. They were barely an hour from Camelot's walls. Of course Arthur didn't want to continue.
Ensuring all their meagre supplies were accounted for, Merlin set pace after Arthur in the direction of Camelot.
They walked in silence, and Merlin struggled to suppress every instinct he had to fill the air. To make Arthur smile. To make things feel normal for just a moment.
When they were nearly upon the castle, Arthur came to a stop, turning to face Merlin. "Before we return, I need to make something clear."
"Of course." Merlin straightened, giving his king his full attention.
Arthur pursed his lips, then launched into words he'd clearly been preparing as they walked. "I no longer trust you. I will need time to decide how I want to move forward. I do not want you gone from Camelot, and I do trust that you mean Camelot and myself no physical harm. You may remain with Gaius for the time being. The story shall be that you are dedicating more time to your studies as his apprentice, and in the meantime, George will handle any of your usual tasks in my service."
While unsurprised by this declaration, Merlin found it distasteful to hear in a way that made him feel physically sick. "I understand," he said, the words sounding strained as he forced them out.
"I will call for you when I am ready to see you again and speak further," Arthur concluded. "Please do not force the issue by coming to me before I call for you."
"I promise."
"Good."
Arthur turned back and continued forward, seemingly trusting Merlin to continue following as he had been.
Merlin trailed his king, slightly slower than before, and ran over Arthur's words in his head. Distance he could handle, especially if it was temporary, as it sounded like this would be. It was the lack of care in Arthur's voice that was wounding him. This morning, he'd been more confident in Arthur's love for him than anything else. Had that love been lost alongside Arthur's trust? Merlin didn't know, and the uncertainty was unsettling in a way that made him unsteady on his feet.
The pair made it through the lower town and to the castle without incident. Merlin's heart caught in his throat as Arthur turned from him, heading toward his chambers and intending to leave Merlin alone on the steps.
"I love you," Merlin dared to say, watching Arthur's back as he came to a halt, tension visible in his strong shoulders.
Arthur held himself like he might turn back for a second, then straightened, and continued walking.
A wave hit Merlin, nearly forcing him to his knees. If he hadn't known better, he might have attributed it to a magical attack, but there was no enemy here. Only the reality of a situation of his own making. He'd lied to the man he loved, and now his king could no longer trust or love him.
Unwilling to be questioned by any passers by, Merlin forced himself to move, to head toward the physician's quarters. As he pushed himself forward, a hacking cough attacked him without warning, and he had to lean a hand against the stone wall of the castle until it passed. Something was tickling at his lungs, and he groaned as he heaved himself upright and began moving toward his first home in Camelot once more.
First he'd lost Arthur, now he was sick.
He could only pray to the triple goddess that things would not continue to get worse.