Four Times Merlin Revealed His Magic to Arthur

And the one time the clotpole actually believed him.

Merlin never wanted to keep his secret as long as he did, but the once and future king never did make it easy for him.

Prince Arthur was annoyed. No, annoyed was too weak a word; Prince Arthur was irked. Someone's careless hand had permitted a goblet brimming with wine to soak the hem of his tunic, and there was not a servant in sight to fetch him a clean one. Furtively wringing out the stained cloth, Arthur's eyes scoured the room for a familiar pair of overgrown ears and scrawny legs.

"Did someone slip poison into your drink?" Morgana's mirthful voice tickled hot against his ear.

Arthur's scowl deepened. "What? No."

"Well, you look like you're in terrible pain." She giggled. "Like you're wearing pants that are three sizes too small."

"Such shameless honesty," Arthur drawled, meeting her eyes with his scowl still intact. "What would I do without you, Morgana?"

She pursed her lips. "I didn't come here to argue with you, Arthur, no matter how much sport it provides. Uther was worried about you, that's all."

The prince shook droplets of the spilled wine off of his hand, hastily tucking the hem of his tunic into his pants. "It's nothing. Have you seen Merlin?"

Morgana gestured a bangled arm towards the entry, beyond the dancing and the merriment that crowded the ballroom floor. The room was full of clamorous colors and gaudy garments, as was tradition during the annual costume ball. Arthur struggled to stretch his eyes past it all. "I thought I saw him down near the kitchens not thirty minutes ago," Morgana offered.

"Thanks," the prince said, moving to push through the bustle.

"Remember to enjoy yourself!" she cried after him. "It is the Dissuimulo Ball, after all!"

The tips of her lips that suggested a smile tilted downwards the moment the prince turned around.

"My lady," a jagged voice sounded from below her, accompanied with two tugs on her skirts. Morgana glanced down to see a hideous dwarf man staring back up at her. A gentle blue wildflower lay in his gnarled palm. "Your beauty surpasses the stories of the bards. Please accept this trifling token as a gesture of my admiration."

Morgana smiled coldly upon the wretched creature. "Your kindness does not go unappreciated. Allow me to formally thank you in a less noisy setting."

He jerked a bow and followed the lady out of the great hall and down to a deserted corridor. Morgana's dark braid whipped back and forth as she scrutinized the room for prying eyes. Finally, she snatched the flower from the dwarf's hand.

"Dissuimulo," she muttered, stroking its blossom. At her touch, the flower blackened and sprouted thorny tendrils. "A funny name for a ball, is it not? Dissuimulo means disguise. Why would a suspicious king ever celebrate such a word?"

"Uther hates secrecy, but a part of him has always been darkly fascinated by it. And secrecy indeed shall be his downfall," the dwarf hissed. "For tonight, my work shall tear Uther down from the inside out."

Morgana lifted her pale chin, something icy glinting in her eyes. "It would be best you recalled that you serve under the authority of me, and most importantly, Morgause. Remember your place, Balgar, lest I be forced to remind you."

The dwarf's cackle cracked once or twice as he coughed the noise out. "I am completely under your command, my lady. As is the Falculta flower you hold. I trust Morgause has told you fully of its qualities?"

"Of course."

"Just to be sure…" the dwarf stroked one of the thorns, his curling nails clicking together with the motion. "Perhaps you should hear of the plant's powers from its maker. Once enchanted, the Faculta multiplies tenfold the magical abilities of every sorcerer close enough to breathe in its air."

Morgana's painted lips stretched out into a grin.

"The effects will last for the rest of the night. You will be powerful enough to place the mind of Uther Pendragon entirely under your power. But you must recite the incantation quickly, before the king realizes your magic."

"Yes, yes," Morgana hissed impatiently. "I know that. I know what needs to be chanted. I know what needs to be done. By this next dawn, Uther's mind will be mine to control."

"I am quite confident of that, my lady. But take caution. The prophecies speak of a sorcerer in Camelot who intends to bring you down."

Something loud and metal clattered to the floor just beyond the bend of the corridor. Morgana's eyes flashed as she whirled around to see nothing. "Your lies do not frighten me, Balgar," she said, voice more urgent now. "Our beloved king has squelched magic from this land. None survived to challenge me, and none would dare. I am the witch Morgana. I am the youngest sorceress to ever apprentice under Lady Morgause. I am to be initiated as a high priestess of this next full moon. Do you understand what this means?"

The dwarf bowed his ugly head. "You are a lady of great power. I do not question your abilities."

"Finally, a wise sentence escapes your mouth," Morgana sneered. She squared her shoulders as she held up the Faculta flower. "Initarus," she whispered. The plant withered as a strange odor wafted up from its thick thorns. Soon the entire corridor was filled with a smell much like the stench of singed hair. Morgana then folded the flattened flower into a kerchief and gingerly tucked it behind the sashes and folds of her costume, a traditional gown of the Artrarian princess. She started as yet another crash sounded from behind the corridor.

"You best make yourself scarce, Balgar," Morgana murmured.

"I shall. And what of you, my lady?"

The witch's face shadowed in the flickering torchlight. "I have a ball to attend."

The harsh clacking of boots on the tiled floor reverberated down the hall. Balgar watched her keenly as she faded from sight, and then turned to the window just across from him. There wasn't much of a reflection to behold in the inconstant flicker of flames, but his two beady eyes could just make out a dark figure that was much, much taller than a knuckly little dwarf. The sorcerer grinned as he drew his cowl over his borrowed face and stole down the corridor.

"Have I ever mentioned what a complete and utter idiot you are?" Arthur snapped. "Where have you been? All bloody night I've been forced to hide this stain, which, by the way, makes me look like a pauper, not a Ganji warrior. I honestly don't even know what you do all day, besides lolling about in the tavern."

Merlin's face had blanched entirely, which pleased Arthur. It was about time he started taking his duties seriously. The servant hugged something close to his chest, which Arthur squinted at presently.

"What isthat?"

"A centerpiece for the king's dining table." Merlin held up what appeared to be an ornate metal plate. Two long scratches marred the beautiful handiwork, which he quickly covered with his hands.

"Did you honestly drop my father's ceremonial dinner plate?" Arthur said in a tone that would have been disbelief, if the action had not been so predictably Merlin.

"No!" Merlin protested, but one eyebrow quirk from Arthur broke him. "Fine. I dropped it twice. But that's only because I was startled by- by something."

"Startled."

"Yes."

Arthur shook his head. Sometimes it seemed there was no hope for that half-witted servant of his. "You better have a brilliant explanation for this, Merlin, or I'm going to have no choice but to hire someone with more than half a brain. So start talking."

"I can't," Merlin said flatly. He didn't offer a dorky grin. He didn't start blabbering, getting himself knotted up in tangles of lies. He simply looked Arthur straight in the face, lips pressed tightly together, and waited for a response.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, swallowing a wave of fury down his throat. "I'm going to ask you to repeat that again. And when you do, I recommend you revise your answer so that it fits the level of respect that your prince deserves."

"I can't explain, Arthur," he repeated curtly. For once, not a hint of humor reached his voice. "I can't explain unless you completely hear me out. Somewhere private."

"Fine." Arthur stepped towards the exit doors, then halted in his tracks. "Merlin, what in the love of God is on your head?"

A cloud of pink rose onto the servant's cheeks as he clasped the tall pointy hat above him. "I didn't have a costume. This was all I could find in Gaius's drawers."

It was a massive, ridiculous thing, all velvety navy blue and riddled with gold stars. Arthur couldn't help but wonder where he had seen it before as he and Merlin made their way into a deserted council room. He was about to ask when Merlin shut the door, heaving a shaky sigh, and stood to face him.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about now?" Arthur demanded.

"Yes." Merlin's voice had never been so small, yet never so sure. "But you're not going to believe me."

"Tell me Merlin, or release me back to the festivities. Trust me; I'd rather be anywhere but here right now."

"Me too," Merlin muttered, which Arthur chose to ignore. "It's just that—your father is in serious danger. A sorceress is going to try and take over his mind by this morning."

The prince crossed his arms. "Can you prove that?"

"Well, no. But you've got to believe me, Arthur. I overheard her plans when I was walking back from the kitchens, and even watched her enchant a dangerous flower. She's going to use it to multiply her power and arrest control of Uther's mind!"

"I hope you realize how ridiculous that sounds. Are you sure—"

"Positive."

Arthur nodded resignedly. As much of an idiot as Merlin was, he had a knack for catching wind of certain plots in Camelot. "How long ago did you overhear this?"

Merlin hesitated before admitting, "About two hours ago."

"And you're only now telling me this?" Arthur roared. He snatched the pointy hat off of Merlin's head and hurled it on the floor. "What were you thinking? How could you be so stupid?"

Merlin widened his stance, like he always did when he was about to fight back. "I needed some advice first. To decide if it was time to tell you the truth. And I'd like my hat back, please."

"What are you hiding from me, Merlin? Who did you talk to?"

"Gaius. And a…bigger…older friend of mine," he managed. "Gauis is going to be very angry at the condition of his hat."

Arthur growled and grabbed it from where it lay smashed on the floor. Where had he seen it before? "Fine. Keep your secrets. And your dumb hat."

With wounded dignity, Merlin took the cap back into his hands. "I'm not going to keep secrets from you anymore. That's why we're here. The sorceress multiplied the magnitude of her power with her enchanted plant, but by doing so, she increased the power of every sorcerer around her as well. Which means that any magical actions taken against her will be impossible to hide, because they will be so powerful."

"Where are you going with this, Merlin?"

"I didn't want you to find out without me personally telling you, Arthur. And I can see no other way to stop the sorceress from taking control of the kingdom. So I'm risking it all right now. Here it is." He clung tight to his hat, took a deep, level breath in, and exhaled three words: "I have magic."

Merlin closed his eyes slowly, and when he opened them, he saw an Arthur at the verge of laughter. "That's right!" the prince exclaimed, popping the hat back onto Merlin's head. Merlin looked at Arthur with a look of sheer bewilderment. "Of course! That's your costume, isn't it?"

"Arthur, I don't think you heard what I just said," Merlin said, visibly wrestling a swallow down his throat.

"No, no, I did. You have magic, I get it. I finally remembered that run-in we had with the northern druid council two summers ago, where all of those men were wearing those stupid hats like the one you've got."

"Well, yes, you're right, but Arthur—"

"So you're going as a sorcerer. Borrowed the hat from Gauis, you said? I'm surprised he saved a relic like that from his days of magic. You're lucky my father didn't figure out your costume. I'm not sure he would appreciate the humor in it."

"There's no humor in it at all!" Merlin gasped, wringing his hands repetitively. "I just found the hat and wore it. I didn't even remember what it was from. But this is important, Arthur! Someone's trying to enchant the king, and I'm going to have to use my powers to save him. I thought you ought to know before I began, because the plant is going to blow my magic out of proportion so that there's no chance of hiding it from anyone."

Arthur set his jaw, appearing incredibly put out. "Good God, this is all just an act to go along with your costume, isn't it? Merlin, I know you're fairly new to Camelot, but you should know by now that people don't actually act out the part they're dressed up as."

"You don't understand!" Merlin yelled, partly in exasperation, partly in desperation. "This is real! And I might die for it! You have to believe me, and forgive me, because I'm about to go out there and risk my own life for—"

He cut off as a portly woman barged through the doors in a blindingly yellow dress, complete with a hollow hat overflowing with daffodils.

"Can I help you, my lady?" Arthur spluttered out. The woman gave a booming belly laugh and shook her head.

"Oh no, just looking for the ballroom, that's all. Uther Pendragon has owed me a dance for thirty two years now, and it's about time he repaid that debt!"

"The ballroom would be four doors over, my lady," Arthur grinned, eager to see his father's reaction to such a surprise. "Allow me to personally escort you."

"I didn't mean to interrupt anything, my lord."

"No worries," the prince said, rolling his eyes at Merlin. "We're finished here."

"Fine, don't believe me, Arthur," Merlin said through red-rimmed eyes. "Bu you will in a minute." He walked behind the prince and the pudgy lady with a quiet resolve that bemused Arthur.

The moment the ballroom doors opened, the lady burst through the crowd to where the king and Morgana were dancing together.

"Uther Pendragon!" she screeched. "You may not remember me by my looks, but certainly you will remember me by my name! I am Lady Mayelline of the House of Lippeare, and I demand a dance!"

Arthur tried to contain his laughter as he gazed upon the faces of Morgana and his father. It was difficult to tell who was more panicked of the two; Uther's face had drained of color while his ward's has turned as red as the brilliant robes she wore.

"Perhaps after this song," Morgana managed, bestowing a gracious smile upon Lady Mayelline. "My good king and I were having the most wonderful time." Her grip on Uther's shoulder visibly tightened.

"I've waited thirty two years for this! I won't wait a moment longer, Uther, and you know it to be true."

Merlin was biting his lip aggressively as he watched the exchange, which Arthur didn't understand. This was, hands down, the highlight of the entire festival.

"Morgana," his father was saying, releasing his grip around her. "I do owe my old friend here a grievous debt."

"But my lord," his ward said, something hard edging the sound of her words. "We enjoy so few of these moments. You know what they mean to me."

Uther's eyes darted nervously to the entertainers, whose music had dwindled during the conflict. "Forgive me, Morgana. I promise I will make it up to you."

Morgana's eyebrows darted downwards. Her grip on the king's shoulder did not loosen. "My lord, please. I was in the middle of something."

For a moment, there seemed something wild in her eyes; a dark maniac glow that contorted her lovely features. Then it was gone, gone so quickly Arthur questioned whether he had seen it at all.

Lady Mayelline chuckled to break the silence. "You've won yourself a loyal ward, my king, which proves your goodness. Prove it once more by repaying your debt to an old woman, would you?" And, shoving the willowy Morgana aside, the fat lady took Uther in her arms as a waltz swelled throughout the room. Morgana's face was blank as she stared at her hand, now ripped away from its touch against the king's shoulder.

"Attachment issues, Morgana?" Arthur baited the girl, and her face darkened considerably.

"It's getting terribly late. I think it's time I went to bed."

"Goodnight then," he said, watching not her but Merlin as she exited the room. His servant's face seemed to loosen with every step she took out of the hall, until it had settled into the easy countenance that was so characteristic of Merlin.

"Pretty good prank, wasn't it?" he finally said, offering a lopsided grin to match the off kilter arrangement of the pointy hat on his head.

Arthur just shook his head. "Your idiocy never ceases to amaze me, Merlin. Just when I think you've ran out of ways to demonstrate your stupidity…" He let the sentence fade.

Merlin ducked his head to wiped his palms on his breeches. "I dunno. I think I might have you got you for a second there, with the I-have-magic-ooh-oh and the like."

"No."

"No, there definitely was a moment. Your eyes got all big, and you did this thing where—"

"Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Shut up."

His servant consented, exhaling softly in what, unbeknownst to Arthur, was a deep and heavy sigh of relief. Merlin would stay in that room for the rest of the night, long after the ball had finished, a smile only dawning on his face when the sun clawed its way above the horizon once again.