Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, its characters, settings, or events; all rights belong to their respective creators.

Dedicated to 1917farmgirl.

Cover art by the ever-delightful Phoebe594, used with permission and many thanks!

Dawn

The morning after Arthur's coronation, Merlin arrived at his chambers early as requested and was surprised to find the king—and that would take some getting used to—already up, despite the fact that it was still that nebulous part of the morning when one wasn't sure if it was quite daylight yet or not, everything grey and fresh and maybe a little fuzzy from sleep. Arthur didn't look like he had slept much, or at all, sitting at his desk with midnight circles under puffy eyes and shoulders slumped with the weight of his father's loss and the assumption of the crown—sad, but not surprising, given Arthur's devotion to his duties and his inability to grieve as he would in the rush to make him king. Arthur looked up when he entered, face flat and eyes tired and distant, and something flashed in his face for a moment—apprehension? Anticipation? Whatever it was, it was clear he'd been waiting for Merlin and equally clear this wasn't an occasion for joking.

"Breakfast at the table or at your desk?" Merlin asked quietly.

Arthur blinked at the question, pulled out of his thoughts in surprise, and his eyes fell to the tray in Merlin's hands as if he hadn't expected it. He frowned. "I—" Then he cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, snapping completely out of his haze and focusing on Merlin with what Merlin had always referred to as his official face. "Have a seat, Merlin."

Merlin hadn't expected that, of all things, but there was a chair opposite Arthur at the desk that hadn't been there when he'd left the night before and he was beginning to think this was premeditated. Possibly even the reason Arthur had asked for the early wake-up call. He shrugged and stepped over to the chair, sliding Arthur's breakfast in front of him before sitting. "You should eat something," he suggested.

Arthur, who had just gathered himself to speak, faltered, then waved a hand in distracted frustration. "Stop, Merlin. Stop . . . talking about food. We have more important things—" He pursed his lips and huffed. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Merlin frowned, starting to become concerned. Arthur had asked him to come early for this, hadn't slept the night before . . . and now he was leaning forward, pushing the tray out of the way to brace his elbows in its place and clasp his hands together, frowning himself. This was very serious and Merlin found himself leaning forward in response.

"Merlin," Arthur began, in the slow careful voice he used when saying things he'd thought long and hard about. "Now that I'm king, we need to discuss some things that are going to change. For you."

Relief flooded through Merlin instantly and he leaned back in his chair. "Not really," he said dismissively. "It's not all that different from when you were regent for me."

Arthur frowned and blinked in confusion. "Of course it is, Merlin. I don't think you understand. I'm not just ruling in my father's stead anymore; I'm ruling under my own power. I'm responsible for making the law as well now, not just upholding it."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know being king is different than being regent, Arthur. But manservant to the king isn't actually any different than manservant to the regent—" Arthur's face abruptly cleared in understanding, then frowned again. "—except the title, really, which I know is supposed to be a great honor, but—"

"Not as my manservant," Arthur cut in.

Merlin stumbled to a halt, confused. "What?" A sudden feeling of dread washed over him and he sat up straight in the chair. "Am I not going to be your manservant anymore? Why—"

Arthur cut him off again, this time with a wave of his hand, frustrated and maybe slightly amused. "I meant that I wasn't referring to changes for you as my manservant." Merlin had the distinct feeling he was missing something very important. "I was referring to changes for you as a magic-user."

Merlin froze, suddenly very aware of the breath being pushed out of him as he fell back against the back of the chair, numb and almost limp. His ears were ringing. His tongue seemed immovable. His usual instinct, drilled into him from the time he was very young, to deny, deny, deny any association with magic, to play dumb, to deflect attention—that instinct rose immediately, as it had for years, and fell away just as quickly in the face of a surge of something like mingled hope and dread and apathy. This was Arthur. This was his friend, his king, the one person he'd wanted to tell more than anybody in his entire life, and in that moment he couldn't bring himself to lie, again, even one more time. Looking up at Arthur, he could see the certainty in the other man's eyes and knew it would be pointless anyway. And painful for both of them.

There was something fragile in that moment, a feeling of balancing on a cliff's-edge and holding one's breath lest even that cause one to fall. This could be everything he'd ever wanted. This could be everything he'd ever feared. If he knew Arthur at all, if he'd ever been able to read his master, then Arthur was feeling the same fragility. Merlin would have made the decision to trust him from that alone if it had ever been a decision. He waited, the pain of each anxious breath throbbing in his chest.

"I'm not going to kill you," Arthur said after a long moment, studying him.

"I know," Merlin said with absolute certainty. He'd known for years that if the choice were in Arthur's hands, he'd live. He'd also known for just as long that the choice might very well never be entirely in Arthur's hands, not so long as he was bound in duty to Camelot and his father—and he'd never been able to begrudge Arthur that, not knowing he'd do the same for his king. That burden was removed from Arthur now, at least partially, but death hadn't been the greater part of Merlin's fears regarding this moment for a very long time. There were other things he'd feared from Arthur's discovery more, things he'd dreaded someday seeing in Arthur's eyes—hatred, fear, distrust, disgust, the nameless agony of having to choose between duty and family and Merlin. The light beginning to filter through the window behind Arthur cast his face in shadow; Merlin couldn't see his eyes, couldn't read his expression, and had to ask, "But are you—Do you—?" He found he still couldn't voice those fears past the lump in his throat and swallowed heavily, hoping and afraid to hope.

Arthur waited silently a moment, head tilted, then leaned back in his chair, hands dropping to the desk. His face slid into the still-shadowed part of the room; Merlin could see it again, and what he saw steadied him. "Things are going to change for you, Merlin," Arthur repeated. "Starting with your honesty. I want you to be completely honest with me from now on; I don't want you to—to be afraid to tell me things anymore."

"I was never afraid of you, Arthur," was the first thing Merlin said. "That's being completely honest. I—I've always been as honest with you as I can, Arthur, I swear it, but complete honesty—that'll be a welcome change." Arthur raised an eyebrow in question. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you, how much I've wanted to tell you, how many times I almost did tell you. Arthur, I've never wanted anything more in my life. I didn't tell you, not because I was afraid you would kill me, but because—" He looked away. "I was afraid you'd see me differently, that you wouldn't—wouldn't want me around. I was afraid you'd have to make some terrible choice, kill me or feel like you're betraying your father and your duty. I was afraid." He looked up and met Arthur's eyes. "But not of you."

"I do see you differently," Arthur said, and Merlin's heart dropped. "I always teased you about being a coward—" Merlin cringed. "—but secretly I always thought you were the bravest of us. And all this time—" Merlin looked away and Arthur leaned forward to catch his eye. "—all this time, you were facing dangers and heartache and choices I didn't even know. I always knew I could trust you with my life, Merlin, however much I joked about you. Now I know that I've done so more than I ever knew, and that you've saved my life more times than I can ever repay. I have relied on your council for years—except occasionally to ignore it to my detriment—but now I know I can trust your council on matters of magic as well. I think differently of you, Merlin, not less." Merlin grinned in relief and Arthur pointed a stern finger at him. "Don't let it get to your head."

"You trust me?" Merlin asked, half teasing and half needing to hear it confirmed.

"I said don't let it get to your head," Arthur grumbled rolling his eyes. Then he eyed Merlin seriously. "Yes, Merlin. I trust you. Completely."

"Thank you," Merlin tried to say. It came out on a rush of air and he couldn't be sure Arthur heard it, but Arthur nodded once in acknowledgment and he decided there would be time to worry about that later.

Arthur pulled his tray closer, the fully-risen sun shining on his bare head and lighting the gold hair like a crown more spectacular than any wrought by the finest craftsmen, as if nature herself were anointing Arthur king. The Once and Future King, Merlin thought with pride. Then Arthur shoved a bite of ham in his mouth and jabbed his knife in Merlin's direction, saying, with his mouth still full, "Start talking."

Merlin smirked. Once and Future Prat is more like it. Once and Future Mess. He couldn't be happier as he leaned forward to begin.

"I suggest," Arthur continued, pausing a moment to reel a loose piece of ham back in, "I suggest you start with my father's death."

Well, now he could be happier.

I have a series based around a reveal that I am currently writing and posting; this is not part of that. I have at least a dozen bunnies for stories that involve a reveal in some way or another; this does not belong to any of them. My muse thinks she's hilarious.

Basically, this is a reveal gone completely right. Arthur is logical and reasonable, Merlin gets what he wants, it's before the mess of season five . . .

I've always said that there is no one correct way to write the reveal-too much depends on how the magic is revealed and when and how much time Arthur has to react (because he can be a hot head, bless his heart). So I'm not saying this is the correct way to write the reveal, I'm not saying this is the best way to write the reveal, I'm just saying, this is probably the ideal for both of the boys. Which makes me all kinds of happy and gooey inside and Farmgirl, too. So here you go.

As of now, there are no plans to continue this in any way. Then again, there were no plans to write this, so . . .

Have a beautiful day!

M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng