Oh look! I am alive! Hello.

This is for a prompt over on tumblr (but it's very long and I am far too lazy to go find it at this moment. If you absolutely must, there should be a link somewhere on my profile.)

Speaking of which! I have an announcement that, granted, doesn't concern too many of you, but still needs being said: I write very slowly! Very slowly. And yes, I previously asked for prompts, but all of a sudden I got a whole bunch and this will take me a very long while... so those who are unhindered by my words and wish to send me a prompt, by all means, go ahead. Keep in mind, however, that it may take a very, very long time, and I reserve the right not to do any prompts I do not wish to (this could be anything from too complicated, I have absolutely no idea how to start, or even I just don't want to. Many things make me uncomfortable, and there are many things I simply will not write.)

TL;DR Anyway yeah so if anyone wants to send me a prompt... I am grateful, but I do warn you of my slowness. I warn you very loudly.

Enjoy this very mild slash, as everyone who prompts me asks for slash and I cannot escape!

"Merlin?" Gwaine called back suddenly, noticing the boy's horse was no longer trotting along astride his.

Arthur glanced back at that, heaving a sigh of exasperation as he saw his manservant dawdling lazily at the back of the group, tugging on the reins of his horse every now and then to keep it from speeding back up.

"Come on, Merlin, hurry up!"

The boy in question looked up from whatever tree he had been staring at intently. "I don't think—"

Arthur groaned. "What, another one of your 'funny feelings'?" He turned away. "It's a routine patrol, Merlin. Nothing worth a twist in your petticoat."

Merlin was still frowning, glancing about agitatedly. "Arthur—"

No sooner had the word left his lips an arrow hit a tree, right near his head.

Swords were drawn and horses dismounted from just in time for the first wave of bandits to come screaming out of the woods all around. The knights crowded together to try and protect their King, but they were all soon separated by battle as more men flooding out from the trees. Arthur alternated between hacking down his enemies and keeping an eye on his men. The only one not yet accounted for was Merlin, who had disappeared shortly after they had raised their swords to attack.

Hiding, probably, Arthur thought with a snort, nearly forgetting to duck a heavy battle-axe as it swung his way. He shook off all thoughts of his manservant as he seamlessly fit himself back into the heat of battle.

In what seemed to be no time at all, the bandits were all dead, the survivors escaping into the woods. Arthur and his knights checked the bodies before heading back to their horses. Merlin was still nowhere to be seen.

"Merlin?" Arthur called, spinning in a slow circle. His manservant was wont to disappear during battles, most often hiding, but he always came back when the fighting was over.

All of a sudden, there were footsteps behind him. He whirled around, only to see Merlin standing in the middle of the sea of bodies, leaning on a bloodstained sword—one which was certainly not his—like a cane. A wave of relief washed over Arthur.

"Merlin!" he greeted, striding over. "Where have you been? Off hiding, I suppose." By then, the other knights had returned, and were readying their horses to go on.

The closer Arthur got to Merlin, the more he could see how pale the other was, and how shaky his hands were on the sword hilt.

Arthur frowned. "Merlin?" He placed a steadying hand on his manservant's shoulder.

Merlin's wide eyes swivelled to him, as if only just noticing his presence. "Arthur?" he said softly, before his eyes rolled back into his head and he pitched forwards.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelped, catching him and gently setting him down on the ground. Gwaine and Leon rushed over when they saw the boy fall.

"What happened?" Gwaine asked immediately, dropping to his knees beside Arthur.

Arthur said nothing. He had noticed a suspicious dark stain, partially hidden by Merlin's jacket. He reached over and slowly peeled back the upper part of the jacket, revealing an ugly sword wound bleeding sluggishly from Merlin's shoulder.

Gwaine gasped.

Arthur was struck still for a moment before memories of previous battle wounds flooded back to him and muscle-memory took over. "We need to take off his shirt to get better access to the wound," he commanded, pulling out a small knife to start the job. "Gwaine, I need you to apply pressure to it. Leon, we'll need some water—preferably heated." He continued to list off instructions, hardly paying attention to what he was saying as he mindlessly cut through Merlin's shirt, watching the red liquid slowly leak out, running down his pale skin, passing every dip, groove, scar….

Scar?

"Hang on, what's that?" Gwaine spoke up, having noticed them just as Arthur had.

Arthur peeled off the bloodstained garment, only to reveal something neither king nor knight was prepared for.

Long since healed but leaving unsightly pale scars were a myriad of intricate designs carved into Merlin's skin, running down either arm and along the sides of his body. They looked old, but not old enough to have disappeared entirely, and certainly no minor injury they must have been at the time.

"What the hell…" Arthur whispered.

"What are those symbols?" Gwaine asked, frowning worriedly as he held the remains of Merlin's shirt to the boy's shoulder.

Arthur said nothing, gratefully accepting the small bowl of water that Leon brought him. He shuffled closer to Gwaine so they could start cleaning the wound as Leon stood over them, narrowing his eyes at Merlin's pale body.

"Sire… are those… runic markings?"

Arthur paused. "We can't know for certain until he wakes up," he said, but he could not quite convince himself that they could be anything else.

Merlin's scars were the work of magic.

Percival returned then with clean bandages and sterilizing alcohol from Merlin's pack. He frowned slightly as he noticed the markings, but when he saw the king said nothing of it, he pushed it to the back of his mind and knelt down to get to work.

They cleaned and bandaged the wound rather efficiently with everyone working together, and the warriors soon dispersed to attend to their own matters. Percival sat against a tree near where Merlin was resting, staring into the fire.

Silently, coming to a decision, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small sketchbook and a charcoal pencil.

When Merlin woke up, he found himself wrapped up in one of the knights' capes, settled close to the fire, with a fierce ache coming from his shoulder. He shifted and groaned.

"Try not to move, you idiot," came a soft voice from his left.

"Arthur?" Merlin mumbled, pushing himself up despite the pain it caused him. "What happened?"

Arthur entered his range of vision, sitting down beside him. "The bandits attacked. You managed to get yourself quite the ugly scratch there, so we swooped in to save you."

Merlin paused. "Well, thank you, I suppose."

Arthur let out a guffaw. "I never thought I'd see the day you finally expressed your gratitude, Merlin."

Merlin narrowed his eyes, peering intently at Arthur's face. The banter seemed forced, with an underlying current of nervousness that was very unlike Arthur. "Arthur, what's wrong?"

In further proof of Merlin's concerns, Arthur did not immediately deny that anything was off. The manservant waited as his master composed himself.

"Merlin," Arthur started hesitantly, "who… who did that to you?"

"I'm sorry?" It was clear from the king's tone that he was not talking about the shoulder wound.

Arthur drew a long breath, steeling himself to look his manservant in the eyes. Why was it suddenly so hard? "We saw the… the scars, Merlin. The… runes."

Merlin's blood ran cold. "What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Merlin. How did they happen?"

Merlin's eyes shifted around. "I—I don't know what you're talking about."

"Merlin."

The warlock sighed, looking up at his King. "It was a long time ago, Sire."

Arthur waited.

"There was… a man," Merlin eventually admitted uncertainly.

"What man?"

"A man in the forest," Merlin said slowly.

"Was he a sorcerer?" Arthur demanded suspiciously.

Merlin hesitated. "Arthur—"

"Was he a sorcerer?"

"Yes! Yes, he was a sorcerer," Merlin conceded bitterly.

"When did this happen?" Arthur pursued relentlessly.

"I told you, it was a long time ago. It doesn't matter." He brought up a hand to gingerly prod his aching shoulder.

"Don't touch that," Arthur ordered. "And it does matter, Merlin."

Merlin stared at him, shrugging his good shoulder. "It's in the past, Arthur. I've dealt with it."

Arthur exhaled through his nose, pushing himself to his feet. "We're not done talking about this. Now relax, you idiot. We've a long ride back to Camelot and I don't want you keeling over and scaring the horses."

Merlin puffed out an amused breath and lay back down.

The subject was controlled, for now.

The journey back to Camelot was quiet.

Gwaine tried to pry a smile out of anyone in the vicinity, but most just grimly waved him off.

Arthur tried hesitantly to rekindle some banter with Merlin, but the boy was not as responsive as he usually was. Probably just tired, Arthur thought. Sword wounds were no small matter, and they were lucky enough that the wound had not become infected.

Gaius told them just as much when they arrived and hurriedly whisked his ward off to his room for some rest after further cleaning his wound and putting on some new bandages.

Gaius raised an eyebrow when the knights remained in the room.

"Sire? What is it you need?"

Arthur exchanged a look with Percival, who handed his small sketchbook to the King. "Gaius," the King began, "could you identify these runes for us?"

The old physician shuffled over, placing his spectacles on his nose. He took the book in his hands, looking closely at Percival's drawing. He frowned. "These look familiar," he muttered. He looked up at the King. "Where did you find these, Sire?"

Arthur shook his head. "That's not important at the moment. We need to know what they mean, Gaius."

The old man nodded, obligated to do as his King wished. He picked up another book from his shelf: a heavy green tome with no title. He flipped through it, glancing back every few seconds at Percival's drawing.

He hummed as he found the page. "These runes, Sire, are used for binding a sorcerer's magic." He raised his eyebrows so they disappeared into his hairline. "Where did you find these?" he asked again, more suspicious this time.

Arthur shared a look with the knights around him, trying to ignore the loud pumping of his heart. "Thank you, Gaius," he said briskly, picking up the sketchbook and departing with his knights.

Gaius watched them go, frowning slightly.

Merlin was idly slurping up a bowl of soup as he sat on Gaius' workbench, which was as far as the physician allowed him to go until he got better. Merlin was very bored.

And then the King burst through the door, his face an immense flurry of emotions Merlin was not at all prepared for, and suddenly he was not bored at all.

Arthur marched right up to him and sat down on the opposite bench. He looked conflicted. "Why would a sorcerer put magic-binding runes on you, Merlin?" he asked bluntly, as though he had put much thought into the question but decided to disregard all previous planning when faced with the actual posing of the question.

Merlin stared at him with wide eyes, spoon hovering nervously in midair.

Arthur stared right back, eyes boring into his, silently imploring him to say something. He looked hopeful, as if Merlin would just claim it was all a misunderstanding. Because it had to be a misunderstanding.

Merlin swallowed. "Arthur—" he croaked. His heart was beating hard enough to outrun a horse and he felt ill. Was this the moment?

"Why would—"

"Because I am a sorcerer," Merlin blurted. He felt something cold and empty with dread settle in his chest as he let the words out, but at the same time, a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He was done hiding.

Arthur said nothing for a long while.

And then, very quietly, in a voice scarcely his, he said, "What?"

Merlin closed his eyes and forced himself to swallow. It would not do well for him to vomit right then. "Arthur, I—The sorcerer, he…." He paused. "I used… my magic, and he got angry, he didn't… didn't like the way I was using it, so…." Merlin shrugged.

Arthur simply gaped at him.

"Arthur, I have magic. I am a sorcerer. But I swear to you, I swear on my life, I would never do anything to harm you or Camelot," Merlin said, but the words came out in a rush and why isn't Arthur saying anything oh god have I broken him?

"Arthur, please say something," Merlin whispered. Tears were starting to gather in his eyes from the buildup of emotion.

"Merlin…?" Arthur said softly, looking hurt. "You… you're a sorcerer?"

Merlin wanted him to scream and rage and be angry with him—he had expected something more along those lines. Not… this.

"Arthur, please, I never wanted to hurt you," Merlin stammered.

"After all these years… why didn't you tell me?"

"I… I couldn't, Arthur, please understand, but I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to, Arthur, but it was never the right time."

Arthur leaned back, letting out a quiet sigh. "Alright."

Merlin blinked. "What?"

"Well, your magic's bound now, isn't it? You can't use it."

Merlin's heart shuddered in his chest. His fingertips were numb.

"Merlin?"

"Right, yeah, I… I can't."

Arthur gave a small smile, and he looked… relieved? "Well, we still have a lot to talk about, Merlin." He stood up, looking meaningfully at his manservant. "I need to know everything."

Merlin nodded absently, staring at him as he walked away.

Why did he never stop lying?

It was a few weeks later that Merlin's lie was unravelled before him.

He had not yet told Arthur everything he had done, and nothing about destiny and Emrys and all that. He wanted to get back in control of the situation, and he did not want Arthur getting suspicious.

His shoulder was almost completely healed, only a slight twinge he could easily ignore. Arthur had taken him and his knights on a hunting trip, as he was wont to do whenever he was in the mood to kill some animals.

Naturally, they came across a hideous magical beast intent on destroying them.

Much of the surrounding land had already been destroyed, and the trees were all bent and broken in some way, making Arthur wonder how this was the first he had heard of the creature.

Arthur had only just loosed in arrow, aiming for a stag, when the animal bolted into the trees. The King turned around to face Merlin, fully intent on blaming his manservant for everything that was going wrong, when he saw it.

"Merlin, behind me!" he yelled, aiming his crossbow. He fired an arrow, but it shattered harmlessly against the beast's flank. Arthur and the knights drew their swords as the creature advanced upon them.

Arthur yelled orders at his men, making sure to keep Merlin behind him—didn't want him getting hurt again, after all.

The beast charged.

The knights raised their swords and slashed at the beast.

The woods rang with metallic clangs as the blades all shattered on impact, leaving the knights defenseless and the creature very, very angry.

It whirled around with a rageful scream, pawing the ground and sending up puffs of dust before rushing towards the unarmed men.

Merlin ran forwards to stand in front of Arthur, hand outstretched, and commanded a single word of magic.

His eyes flashed bright gold as the creature squealed, tripping over its own legs, before dissolving into the air and floating up in a cloud of ash.

The woods were silent for a moment. Everyone stared at Merlin as he bent down over his knees, catching his breath. Some of the knights went to pull out a knife, as the swords lay broken and discarded on the ground, but Arthur beat them all to it. He marched right up to Merlin, a scowl on his face. He grabbed his manservant's good shoulder and shook him roughly.

"What was that?" he demanded.

Merlin stared at him. "Arthur—I'm… I'm sorry, I had to do something—"

"Merlin! Why—how did you do that?" Arthur barked.

"It couldn't be defeated without magic! You would have died!"

"You told me you couldn't do that anymore!" Arthur exploded furiously, gesturing wildly with his arms.

"Arthur—"

"So was that a lie too? Did you put the runes on yourself, Merlin?" Arthur yelled, jabbing his finger into Merlin's chest. "I wouldn't put it past you, sorcerer—"

"No! Arthur, no, there was a sorcerer in the woods, and he did—"

"You told me you couldn't do it anymore," Arthur growled again, still caught in his anger at the first point.

Merlin stared at him, blinking tears of frustration out of his eyes. "How could I not, Arthur," he hissed, "when I know how much you hate it! I couldn't tell you that I am what you despise!"

Arthur blinked, taken aback. "Merlin—"

"Arthur, I was born the way I am, and I am a creature of magic," Merlin said.

The King gaped, as did the knights standing in a circle around the pair, forgotten. "What?"

"You can't ever ask me not to do magic, Arthur, because I am magic," he elaborated.

Arthur did not understand. "But the… the runes—"

"You asked me how I got these scars, Arthur?" Merlin asked, pointedly rolling up one of his sleeves. "There was a sorcerer, and he did try to bind my magic." He pushed his sleeve back down, suddenly self-conscious. "But I broke through."

"You what?"

Merlin met the King's eyes. "I broke through the runic bonds, Arthur. The sorcerer's spell wasn't strong enough to contain me, and I broke through," he finished with a shrug.

Arthur waved his hands helplessly. "What?"

"Arthur," Merlin said gravely, "there are many things I haven't told you, but if I am to tell you everything, you need to understand that my magic is part of who I am, and I cannot—"

He broke off awkwardly as Arthur surged forwards and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Arthur?" he asked uncertainly.

"You're an idiot, Merlin," Arthur said as he pulled away, and there was a small smile on his face. "But you're my idiot, and I demand to know everything. The real everything, this time," he ordered, smacking his manservant's ear.

Merlin chuckled, and his smile was grateful. "Yes, Sire. Everything."

Is rageful a word? Who knows. Probably not. However, I do not care. It should be.

Thank you for reading!