First off, sorry for the terrible summary. Next, this is my first work in this fandom. I'm pretty sure that's obvious. I know my Arthur might be a little ooc, but I'm chalking it up to the fact he has more emotionally maturity than a tea spoon in this. Because telling myself that's the reason makes me feel better.

Contrary to popular belief, Arthur Pendragon is not an idiot. A prat? Certainly. A bit emotionally constricted? Perhaps. But he is not an idiot. How people believe that he will be a great king, yet believe him incapable of putting one and one together is beyond him. He means, really, how is he suppose to miss some things when them are flashed blatantly in front of his face? Some people have no subtly, despite what they think.

Maybe it helps that he knows, that he has always known. Everyone always says that hind sight is twenty twenty. Maybe he can see the signs because he knows what to look for. But he doesn't think so. The signs have always been so clear he can't imagine missing them, even without his advantage. They are just that obvious.

But either way, he is not an idiot nor is he that unobservant.

How his brainless, tactless manservant is still alive is frankly beyond him. Honestly, as if Arthur doesn't know he has magic. It's obvious, even without seeing his aura.

Arthur remembers the first time he saw a magical aura. Not that he knew what it was at the time. He just knew that it was different. He was used to seeing auras. He had been able to see them ever since he could remember. Everyone had one. They were a soft coloring that hovered around them. The color depended on their personality. The first colors he remembers seeing were light greens and comforting browns- earthly, reassuring, kind. Others were bright red or vibrant blue. His Father was a hard gray, unyielding and cold like a rock.

But when he was five, he saw a new color, one he had never seen before. Or rather, one he had never seen as one color. Gaius, the court physician, had specks of it mixed in with his herb green aura, but the green was still his primary color. But this, this was bright and bold and beautiful.

Gold.

It shone brightly in his new nursemaid's aura. He had no idea what it meant, but it was lovely.

Up until this point he had never mentioned the auras to anyone. At first because he thought everyone could see them. Then, when he realized they couldn't, because this was a secret that was his. It was his and not something that could be judged or lectured about.

He wasn't keen on giving up his secret either, so he tried to figure out himself. But it didn't fit her personality. If his five year old self was any judge, he would have said she should have been orange, for her fierce temper and protective nature. And he never saw he do anything different then anyone else.

So he decided to ask. His Father had told him it was his right to demand respect and answers from people because he was the Heir. One day he would rule them, so they owed him. He would swear her to secrecy and he would demand an answer.

Yes, there is a reason he became such a prat, alright. It didn't just pop up from nowhere.

So after supper one night, as she was helping him get ready for bed, he asked – demanded rather.

"Why are you gold?"

Mary, his nursemaid, freezes. "I beg your pardon Your Highness?"

"Why is your color gold? No one else is gold. Why?"

"You see auras?"

"auras?"

"The colors you see surrounding people."

"Obviously, now why?!" He stomps his foot, thinking it emphasizes his question.

Mary sighs and goes to sit on his bed. "Come here child, this requires more of an explanation then you likely expect."

Arthur goes and sits next to her, his curiosity now peaked.

"How long have you been able to see auras?"

"Always."

"And have you ever told anyone about them?"

He shakes his head.

"Good, that is a good thing child. Now before I answer, I want you to listen to me very carefully," she looks him in the eyes. "You must never tell anyone about this ability, do you hear me? No one. Not a close friend, not a stranger, not even your Father. Do you understand?"

Arthur nods, understanding, but he can't help question it. There is a difference between him keeping it from his Father and being ordered to keep it a secret. "Why?"

"Has the King ever talked to you about magic?"

"Magic?" Arthur bites his bottom lip, "Father tells me that magic is evil and that I should always avoid it. It corrupts and taints anyone who comes into contact with it."

Mary sighs again. "Already and so young too," she mummers. "What I am going to tell you must never be repeated. It could get us both in a lot of trouble," she pauses and Arthur nods. "The King is wrong. Magic is not evil. It does not corrupt. It is a tool. Just like a sword, it depends on the person – whether they will use it to defend the weak or to kill people."

This stuns Arthur. It is the first time in his young life that someone has suggested his Father is not perfect. He understands what Mary is saying, but it is a hard thing to grasp. "But why would Father say this if it's wrong? He kills people for magic!"

"The King is blinded by hate. Something happened before you were born that turned him against magic."

"What?"

"He blames magic on the Queen's death."

"Mother? Father thinks magic killed Mother?"

"Yes. And he has set out to wipe out magic from the land. But he will not succeed. Magic is everywhere, in every tree, every blade of grass, every living thing. Magic is woven into nature itself. The balance can be upset, but it will always right itself. It will never be completely gone. It is important you understand that at the base of all magic, all understanding, is the need for balance. It is the primary teaching."

Arthur absorbs all of this. "But what does it have to do with the colors?"

"It is a special magical talent, which is why you must keep it a secret."

"I have magic?" Arthur squeaks.

"No child," Mary smiles gently. "You have a magical ability, but that does not mean you have magic. Rather, you have a Gift that allows you to see a person's personality – or soul, as some people will call it. This does not mean that you will be able to move things without touching them or any other such thing. That is magic. auras are magical, but the ability to see them does not make the person a sorcerer."

"Then why do I have to keep it a secret?"

"Because not everyone will see it that way. They will think you have magic, not that you have Gift."

"But I'm then Prince. What can they do to me?"

"I would rather not test that question. The King is a hard man."

Arthur wants to defend Father, but he can't. He remembers the rock aura and shivers.

"Do you understand how important this is?"

Arthur nods.

"Now, to answer your original question. I have magic, which is why my aura is gold. All magic users, whether practicing or not, will have a gold aura. If they are nonpracticing, their aura have another color added, but anyone with magic will have a gold aura. The brightness of the gold depends on how powerful they are. The brighter the gold, the more power they have."

Arthur ponders all of this. His thoughts go to Gaius and his green and freckled gold before going back to Mary.

"How powerful are you?"

"Moderately."

He nods again before a horrifying thought occurs to him. "Mary, if my Father ever found out, would he use me to kill magic users?" His voice trembles slightly at the unwelcome thought.

Mary purses her lips. "I would like to say the King would never use you like that, but I cannot. I am afraid he would."

"I won't tell anyone. Ever," he vows fervently.

Mary ruffles his hair. "I know you won't. Now it's time for all young Princes to go to bed if they want to grow up to be big, strong kings."

Arthur slides under the covers and Mary tucks him in before blowing out the candle.

"Good night Your Highness. Sleep well."

"Good night Mary. I promise," he mutters before falling asleep.

He keeps his promise too. He never tells a soul about his ability to see auras, not even other magic users he sometimes spots.

That doesn't stop Mary from being executed when he is nine.

The first time he sees an execution he is seven. His Father believes he is now old enough to see the consequences of practicing magic and how to deal with them. He makes it into a great honor.

It is an honor Arthur would rather forgo. The idea sickens him, although he knows to hide it. He is the King's son. He should believe magic is evil. That's how things are.

This is also the first time he sees someone die. He watches as the gold aura – not even a strong one, just a faint glow – is snuffed out like a candle. One second the color is there, the next second it is gone. The fact that the woman's head falls to the ground is only secondary in his eyes to the color disappearing.

The ease that is gone frightens him. It should not be that easy to wide out something so beautiful. But it is.

That is the lesson Arthur learns that day. Not that magic is evil and must be dealt with, but that life is fragile. It is far too easy to take away.

He is sick to his stomach the rest of the day. Mary rubs his back comfortingly as he expels his lunch violently in the privacy of his own room. The event gives him nightmares long after the fact. He knows he must be strong, for he must grow up and be a great warrior one day, but now the idea scares him. He doesn't want to stop the colors.

But he must.

As Arthur grows and learns to fight and kill, he finds he can ignore the uneasiness in his stomach. He can pretend he didn't didn't notice the colors go out of him opponents. By his fifth battle – skirmish really – he doesn't even get sick. But the queasiness never fully vanishes.

In a way, he's glad. He likes to think it keeps him human.

The first time he saw Morgana, the King's new ward, was the first time he thought about breaking his vow of never telling anyone about his ability. He just couldn't believe that his Father was taking in someone with such strong magic. Obviously he didn't know, but still.

It was dangerous.

He wasn't sure if she knew about her powers yet, but she had to be warned. She would have to be extremely careful and he wanted to know she had his support. He would help protect her and cover for her. He would be there for her.

But then she pranked him and teased him and got him into trouble those first few weeks. She was manipulative and cruel at times.

So even though they grew closer as time went on, he never told her. He still tried to be there for her and he tried to show her he would always accept her, but he never forgot those first few weeks and her ability to be cruel.

Later, after she is gone, and then after she is lost to him, he sometimes wonder if he made the right decision. Maybe things would have been different if he was more open about her magic. But he had thought he had done a good job in showing her he accepted her – not a great one, maybe, but he tried. And he thought she had realized he had tried to follow her dreams as much as he could. He couldn't appear to take them seriously, but hadn't she noticed he listened when he could?

Could he have talked to her about her magic without revealing the auras? Would that have helped her? Or would she have done the same thing, only this time knowing a grave secret about him.

He doesn't know. Regrets pick away at him at night, but there is nothing he can do about it. The past can't be changed after all. The only thing to do is move on.

But he still can't help but wonder.

What if...?

The first time he sees Merlin, he is torn between strangling the idiot and hiding him. He has the strongest aura Arthur has ever seen. He glows with power, like a torch or even a mini sun. He simply can't begin to imagine the amount of power the boy must have.

It seems impossible that no one else can see how he lights up the street. He almost fears that any second the guards will seize him and take him to Father. It's just that obvious.

So of course he is a prat to him – and of course that's the only reason he was a complete prat, why would anyone think otherwise? He wants him out. Doesn't the idiot know that magic is illegal in Camelot? Does he have a death wish? Or is he just that stupid? Whatever the reason, Arthur knows he can never bear to see this gold snuffed out.

But naturally it doesn't work. Not only does he not leave, he is assigned as his manservant. His manservant, of all things! As if this isn't a total disaster.

He doesn't make things easy for him. He acts like a prat and orders him around and is generally as obnoxious as possible.

But Merlin is different. Merlin talks back. He isn't afraid to stand up to him, even when he is in a terrible mood and throw things at him. He shows no respect and does a horrible job at being a manservant – completely horrible.

Despite this – or maybe because of – Arthur finds himself liking Merlin. He enjoys their banter and, okay fine, he enjoys annoying him too and ordering him around. Because Merlin is loyal. He helps save Camelot and saves Arthur's life and asks for nothing in return. Never even hints that he helped him.

And yes, he knows Merlin can't ask for anything without revealing himself, but still. He never even tries. Not concerning anything serious anyways. He occasionally whines for a day off, but that's it. Not that he gives him it, because yes he is a prat. But also because he needs him by his side.

It scares him, how soon it seems to depend on Merlin. His loyalty almost demands a return of it. Which he gives, even to the point of disobeying his Father to go get the plant that will save the idiot's life.

There are times, as the days and months pass, that he considers telling Merlin about his ability. He isn't like Morgana. He doesn't think Merlin has a cruel bone in his body. And he knows Merlin will understand. He would comprehend just how secret his Gift is, but also how cool. He would be nice to finally share it with someone.

But he doesn't.

The habit of secrecy is hard to break after a lifetime of it. He thinks that's part of the reason Merlin never tells him about his magic. Because after a year he has to know Arthur would never turn him in. They have grown too close by then. Not that he's that great at showing it. And he can't always be too open about it. But still...

He hopes it's not because Merlin is afraid of him.

But he truly wonders about his intelligence sometimes. Does he really think Arthur is that clueless? Really? He's almost insulted sometimes.

Other times he's just exasperated. And not always at Merlin either. It seems like his life has gotten much more bizarre are Merlin joined it. Certainly that was an absurd amount of increased magical attacks. What? Did someone flip a switch or hold up a sign or something? It's ridiculous.

But none the less life goes on and so do they, both holding their secrets. Arthur has decided that if Merlin does not tell him by time his Father dies about his magic, then afterward they are going to have a serious talk. After all, that gives him plenty of time.

Right?

"He's dying," Arthur says, shocked. Yes, he knew his Father wouldn't live forever, but he never imagined losing him this soon.

"I'm afraid so, Your Highness," Gaius answers.

"There's nothing you can do?"

"There's nothing anyone can do at this point, but ease his passing."

Arthur pauses and takes a breath to prepare for the jar of worms he is about to open. "What about magic?"

"Sire?" Gaius' voice is shocked.

"Can magic save my Father's life?"

"Possibly, but..."

Arthur shakes his head. "I know this must come as a complete surprise. But I can't lose him yet Gaius. I know he's not always been the best of King, but..."

"He's your Father," Merlin finishes softly, understandingly, from beside him. He had stiffen when Arthur had first mentioned magic, but now he was leaning in again, a comforting presence.

"Even if someone could heal Uther, and it would have to be someone powerful to do it, who would? Sire you must understand that there will not be a line to save the King's life. Not when, if they succeed, it will lead to their death."

"Not even if I promise protection and to lift the ban when I am King?"

Both Gaius and Merlin stiffen again.

Arthur nods as if they had spoken. "I know, but I am serious. If someone would manage to do this, I would swear to lift the ban on magic as soon as I am able."

Neither of them had to know that Arthur had been planning on doing that already. But this gave him the perfect excuse to initiate it as soon as he could. After all, how else could he reward his idiot manservant? Court Sorcerer should do nicely. And of course a new hat to go with the title.

The two exchange a look.

"I may know someone," Gaius tentatively suggests.

Arthur nods. "Good. Tell me everything."

Arthur watches as Merlin – in that ridiculous disguise – heals his Father. He is in awe. Never before has he had a chance to observe his aura when he was using magic. It was magnificent. Definitely worth all the trouble of getting him here.

Merlin's magic is truly a marvelous thing.

But then things go wrong – terribly and terrifyingly wrong. He doesn't understand what and, from the expression on Merlin's face, neither does he. The spell had been working before suddenly reversing all the good it had done. Within moments his Father went from being almost healed to being dead.

Arthur admits that he loses his temper at this point. He's not proud of it, but he did. And in he temper he said some things he did not mean, at all. He could never blame Merlin for this. He knows he did his best and this failure wasn't his fault.

But Merlin runs and Arthur chases and the knights chase and everything is a mess before they find Merlin, as himself again, and 'the trail is lost'. What a mess.

That night as he is sitting vigil, he tries to form a plan. He needs to make things right and that includes having a long and probably emotionally fraught conversation with Merlin. One that is long over due. He's not looking forward to it.

He's tries to sort of his emotions as well. It won't do to lose his temper in the middle of it. He deals with the fact that he is hurt that Merlin hasn't told him yet. He understands, he does, but it still hurts. He deals with that he is now King and will be expected to act as such. He deals with the fact that he will soon be lifting the ban on magic.

He deals with the fact that he finds Merlin's magic a bit terrifyingly as well as beautiful. He knows Merlin would never use it against him. That has never been a worry. But there is so much of it. How can one man have so much power yet be so stupid and yet, sometimes, so wise, is beyond him. Merlin is truly one of a kind.

When he opens the doors and sees Merlin sitting there, waiting for him, any doubts he may have had vanish. This is someone who will always be beside him, even if the world burns to the ground. It is a comforting thought.

He smiles and Merlin starts, obviously not expecting it. "Come one lazy bones, go get breakfast and come to my room. We need to talk."

Merlin looks him over carefully. "Of course Sire," he says with a small smirk, "any special requests?"

Arthur waves him off. "Whatever Cook has is fine. Make sure you get enough for yourself as well."

Merlin nods, use to this over the last months.

When he comes in the room, tray loaded, Arthur is already sitting at the table. He has made sure that any weapons or anything Merlin could feel threatened by are put away. Merlin sets the tray down and helps himself to the food.

As they eat, he keeps glancing over at Arthur.

"I'm not going to explode or burst out into tears, Merlin. You can stop checking."

"Aw, but you said we need to talk. That obviously means you have been thinking. You know what a strain that puts on you."

"At least I have a brain with which to think."

"Are you sure that's not just indigestion?"

Arthur snorts. "Your faith in me is astounding, Merlin. Truly."

Merlin's smirk falls from his face and he turns serious. "I have every faith in you Arthur. You are going to make a great King. The best Albion has ever known."

At any other time Arthur would make a joke and lighten the mood. But now is not the time for that. Now is the time for answers. "Merlin, why didn't the spell to heal my Father work?"

"What?" he sputters, "How should I know, I don-"

"Merlin," he interrupts, still calm, "what went wrong?" He looks Merlin in the eyes.

He seems to deflate. "Arthur... Arthur, I..." he runs his hand through his hair, "You know?" he finally settles on.

Arthur can't help but snort. "I've always known," he admits.

"How?"

He takes a deep breath. This is it. "Have you ever heard of auras?"

Merlin scrunches his nose. "No, but then I haven't had the chance to study like I would like to. There's still so much I want to learn."

"We'll have to resolve that then. auras are a person's soul – or at least that is how it was explained to me. Every person has a different one, a different color, depending on their personality. But with magic users it's different. They all have the same color, it just varies in intensity."

"What color?" Merlin asks, obviously intrigued.

"Gold."

"...So you knew, the first time you saw me?" It comes out as more of a question than a statement.

Arthur can't help but snort at it. "Knew? I'm surprised a blind man couldn't see it. Do you have any idea how bright you are? You're like that sun. The sun, Merlin. I've never seen anyone who has even come close to you. Even Morgana..." he pauses, but then pushes on, "Even Morgana doesn't match you and up until you, she was the most powerful magic user I knew."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?"

They stare at each other before they start giggling helplessly. Obviously the tension is getting to them both. They grin at each other.

"I admit," Arthur starts once he can talk again, sobering quickly, "I could have handled Morgana better," he ignore Merlin's soft "you aren't the only one" and pushes on, "and I refuse to do the same for you. I need you by my side," he says quietly, not liking how vulnerable this makes him, even if it is only in front of Merlin, but feeling it necessary to say.

Merlin gets up and comes to kneel beside him, uncharacteristically taking his hands in his own. "I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to. You are my other half. Everything I am is for you Arthur, only for you – my life, my magic, everything."

Arthur turns the chair so that Merlin is now kneeling in between his legs. "I know. That's something I've never doubted. Your magic has always astonished me. Today was the first time I saw it in action. It takes my breath away."

Merlin looks up at Arthur and taking one of his hands away, cups it. He whispers in a foreign tongue and a familiar blue ball of light appears. Arthur watches Merlin's aura glow as his magic creates it. "Even when you're dying..." he mutters, fondly exasperated. Then, "What went wrong Merlin?"

"Morgana. Morgana made an amulet that would reverse the healing spell. I'm sorry Arthur, I should have checked, I didn't think-"

"Shh, it's alright Merlin, I don't blame you. I never did. I was just angry. But how did the amulet get on my Father in the first place?"

Merlin pauses for a long moment. "There is traitor in Camelot."

"Who?"

"Agravaine."

Arthur bows his head over their joined hands.

"Okay, well that's going to have to be taken care of as soon as possible."

"You believe me?" Merlin asks, sounding shocked.

"If I can't trust my Court Sorcerer, who can I trust?"

"What?!"

Arthur smirks. "What Merlin? Is your hearing going bad? You heard me."

"But the ban..."

"I was planning on removing the ban as soon as I could. Healing my Father just gave me the excuse I needed. I would have saved my a lot of arguing... maybe. If no one had told my Father anyways."

"I'm sorry," Merlin apologizes again.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault." Arthur brings his forehead forward to rest it against Merlin's. "I owe you my life many times over. I trust you completely."

Merlin shutters and brings their faces together. He rubs his nose against Arthur's. Arthur smiles softly, feeling a bit mushy frankly. It's not a kiss, but it seems more intimate than one. It's a sure sign of affection on Merlin's part. Giving into the enviable, Arthur returns the nuzzle. He can't bring himself to call Merlin a girl for it. Not this time anyways.

Next time however...

Feeling enough emotion had been expressed – alright fine, yes he is emotionally constricted – he decides to lighten the mood. "Now about your new uniform. I was thinking a robe with stars on it. And a hat, we can't forget the hat. Not feathers this time, but perhaps a cone shaped one..."

Merlin laughs, "Prat."

"Idiot."

"Clot pole."

"Girl's petticoat."

All was well. Or at least, it would be.