I am fairly certain there is nothing in "Merlin" to copywrite, but if there is, I don't own it. Enjoy!

Arthur knew Merlin was not wrong to call him arrogant. He certainly would never admit this to his manservant, that would only serve to make Merlin more insufferable than he always was, and that would be too much for the world to bear. No, it was best for everyone if Arthur continued to resign Merlin to the stocks for such comments- not that Arthur sent Merlin to the stocks much anymore. When Arthur thought about it, Merlin hadn't seen the stocks in quite some time; usually Arthur took it upon himself to throw things at Merlin. Of course that meant it might be time to send Merlin back, just to remind his manservant that Arthur still could. Especially now that Merlin was the personal servant to the King…

Arthur stopped the thought there. His new title, only hours old, weighed heavily upon, though it was also the title which reminded him of why he was, at times, arrogant. If Arthur was honest with himself, brutally honest, brutally honest in a way he could only be two days after the death of his father, Arthur needed to be arrogant. If Arthur didn't believe he was the most important man in Camelot, he certainly could not make others believe it, and if those beneath him-the scheming councilors and courtiers- realized that Arthur was fallible, or worse, that he could be swayed, Camelot would cease to function. If Arthur was weak, if he was indecisive, then he was nothing. His father had taught Arthur that. No one in Camelot could doubt the King, especially not the King.

There were times though, times like that night, when Arthur could not live up to this expectation. Since his coronation at dawn, Arthur had worked tirelessly, writing to Albion's other rulers, reviewing the qualifications of those who sat on his council, and seeing to the details of his father's internment. The work had been good for Arthur, it had kept him from having the chance to think. Now that it was over, now that Arthur had collapsed in his chambers exhausted, there was nothing left to distract him.

He cursed himself for having sent Merlin away. His ridiculous manservant had been dead on his feet, having slept less than even Arthur since Uther's death. It was stupid of Merlin really. The job of a servant was to serve, to do whatever they must to be ready for any task given to them. If he was a good servant Merlin would have taken the time to rest up while Arthur stood his vigil. Then Merlin would have been alert and useful during the following days' frenzy. Merlin, however, wasn't a good servant; he was a good friend. He had stayed for Arthur's sake, and Arthur appreciated it. Arthur appreciated it more than Merlin could ever know, which was why Merlin had been sent to bed when the day's work was done. That Arthur now regretted it did not mean it was the wrong decision.

Without Merlin, Arthur had nothing to do but think. He supposed he could sleep. It was late at night; he was exhausted; sleep was exactly what Arthur should do. He feared to try, however, because he knew he would only be disappointed. Sleep would not be coming to Arthur that night, just as it hadn't come the night before. It was easier to admit that than crawl into bed and be disappointed. Arthur would rather not do something than do something and fail.

Speaking (or more technically thinking) of things Arthur would rather not do than fail… he cast a glance towards where his new crown lay. Its weight had been unbearable all day. It was not the duties of kingship which Arthur had struggled under; he had been regent for nearly a year, the duties were nothing new. Arthur didn't struggle with the expectations either; if he was to falter under high expectations it would not be after his father's death. Uther had always held Arthur to a higher standard than anyone else, except, perhaps, Arthur himself.

No, the problem was that Arthur looked upon that crown, the crown he'd won through the death of his father, and a part of him was happy. If would be a lie if Arthur said he'd never wished his father ill. There had been times, times Arthur wasn't proud of, when he desired nothing more than for his father to just die already. Now he had, and Arthur grieved him. He'd been missing his father for months, and now the ache was accompanied by the hopelessness of reality- there was no chance now for Arthur to get his father back. Uther wasn't mad; he was dead. Arthur knew his father would disapprove, but he'd spent most of his vigil crying over that lost hope.

The problem was that while Arthur missed his father, he was also glad for Uther's death. He hated himself for it, and for many other things if he was being honest. Arthur knew he was more important than everyone else in Camelot, but he certainly wasn't a better person than them. In fact, Arthur was fairly certain he was a horrible person, a horrible son. He was glad his father was dead; he was glad to be king. Despite hating himself for that, Arthur couldn't make the feeling disappear.

It seemed the human heart wasn't destined for hopelessness. Just when Arthur had lost all hope of his father returning, a new hope had planted itself in his chest. Already it was flourishing, watered by the pomp and ceremony of the day. His whole life Arthur had been waiting to be King, thinking about what he could finally do when the day came. Now it had, and all those ideas in Arthur's mind were flourishing into realities. Never again would Arthur have to stand by while something in Camelot was wrong. Now he could just change things, fix things, make life better for every man, woman, and child in his lands with a single order. The power seemed to fizzle within him, like an undeniable force just waiting to break free. Arthur had never felt so wonderful… and it was wrong to feel wonderful two days after your father died.

Arthur tipped his goblet, finishing the wine inside. He went to pour another glass; alcohol seemed a good way to numb all emotions positive or negative. But his decanter was empty, and there was no more wine to be found. Arthur had never been a huge drinker; he had Gwaine for that. The goblet lingered in his hands for a moment, and then he hurled it at the door. It fell to the ground with a clatter, and Arthur dropped his head in his hands. He really needed to find a new distraction.

A knock echoed through the room. Arthur lifted his head, surprised. It was late; everyone else should have been sound asleep. He couldn't possibly think of someone who would show up knocking at such an hour. If something was wrong he would have been alerted with clanging bells and shouting, not a simple knock. His uncle had left the city on an errand immediately after the coronation, and was not to return for at least a week. Arthur's knights had all been giving him a wide berth, rightfully fearful when Arthur got into such moods. His sweet Guinevere knew better than to come to his chambers at night, the talk of such a thing would be devastating to them both, even with his father dead. And of course Merlin, the only other person Arthur could think of, wouldn't bother to knock.

"Come in," he called out, sitting up straight in his chair. Whoever it was, it would not do for them to see him in such a state. He was the King of Camelot now, and no one, especially Arthur, could forget it.

The door remained still, and Arthur rolled his eyes. Somehow this interruption was not the comfort he had expected. Still, he called out louder, "Come in."

For a second it appeared that no one was going to come in at all. Arthur wondered if perhaps a guard had accidentally knocked and then fled in a panic at having bothered the King. The thought was dismissed when the door crept open and a form appeared. Arthur's visitor was tall, lanky and gawky. His shoulders were sunken, and he looked very young. He even wore a silly little neckerchief just like… Arthur blinked. In the darkness he somehow hadn't even recognized Merlin. It wasn't Arthur's fault though. His manservant just looked… wrong. He'd knocked for one, and Merlin never knocked. Beyond that, his whole demeanor had suddenly changed. Even when he came in and shut the door Merlin didn't look up at Arthur. The King's heart dropped, and without any other greeting Arthur asked, "What has happened?"

Merlin shook his head, though his eyes were not particularly reassuring. "Nothing. I just… we need to talk, Sire. "

Arthur relaxed some, settling back in his chair. But he was only able to get so comfortable, because Merlin still looked strange, and was calling him by his honorific. Yet with the immediate threat of bad news out of the way, Arthur was glad to see Merlin, very, very glad that his servant had disobeyed him and was not asleep. A smile flitted across his lips, "Oh we have to talk, do we? Tell me, Merlin, whose coronation was it we celebrated today? I don't have to do anything; I'm the king."

"You're right," Merlin told him, finally looking up. "You don't have to do anything, but I do. I… I have to do this now or I cannot ever do it. "

Their blue eyes met, and Arthur was shocked to realize that Merlin looked on the brink of tears. His lip quivered, and he rubbed his neck awkwardly in a way he rarely did when alone with Arthur. The King sucked in a breath, startled by the raw emotion before him. But Merlin's 'feelings' were not something Arthur had ever known how to deal with. Instead, he did his best to ignore them, jibing at the man, "Well, Merlin, if you must talk then talk. It is late."

Merlin shuffled his feet, the two boots clicking together loudly. Arthur hardly could help from yelling at Merlin just to speak, but he restrained his temper, and waited. Finally Merlin admitted, "You won't like what I have to say."

Arthur laughed; Merlin walked right into things sometimes. It would honestly be a disservice to them all if Arthur didn't take the opportunities Merlin laid out for him. (Besides, he was still hoping their usual banter would help Merlin spit out whatever was bothering him before Arthur really started to worry.) "Honestly, Merlin, do you think I ever like your blather?"

A glimmer of the real Merlin flashed before Arthur, a smirk which promised rebuttal. But the words didn't come; they stuck on whatever it was Merlin had come there to say. When Arthur's servant spoke, it was with downright reverence, "This is different. You won't like me when I say it."

Arthur was getting very concerned, but he didn't know how to fix things. He could only keep trying to annoy Merlin into opening up. "Merlin, I never like you. Now say what you have come to say or leave."

Merlin took a step towards the door, clearly ready to take his chance and leave, but he stopped himself. Instead he ordered Arthur, "Give me your sword."

Arthur raised a brow. On the bright side, Merlin's absurd demand sounded like Merlin. On the other hand, it was still an absurd demand, "Merlin, I am King. You are my servant. I know that you get a little confused sometimes but even an idiot like yourself must know there is a difference. You can't order me around. Why do you need my sword?"

"I'm scared you are going to kill me before I'm done explaining. Please, Arthur."

Arthur had always known Merlin was insane; he didn't know why he bothered being surprised. Instead he just sighed, unhooking the belt and tossing the heavy sword over, "Now, will you tell me what horrendous crime you have committed?"

Merlin didn't speak immediately. Instead, he looped the sheath around him with surprising skill. (Not that it should have been surprising, considering how many times he'd put the sword on Arthur). Then he pulled out the sword, studying it. Merlin was near enough the window that the blade caught the moonlight, illuminating Merlin's face. It was only with that light that Arthur could truly see the shadows in Merlin's eyes, and Arthur was afraid. There were very few things Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, feared; the utter dejection on Merlin's face was one.

"I have committed a crime, Arthur," he whispered, eyes cast downwards at the blade. Then he sheathed the blade, and finally came towards Arthur. Whatever fear Merlin felt seemed to fade. It didn't disappear; it was simply replaced by a renewed determination. "By Camelot's laws, I have committed a very grave crime, and now that you're King I have to tell you the truth. If I don't tell you tonight, then it is no longer a deception meant to protect you; it is a lie meant to protect me."

Arthur shifted in his seat, and then decided that this was definitely a standing-up conversation. He wanted to think that Merlin was being melodramatic, but if he wasn't, if his servant had committed some crime… Arthur needed to be able to pace. It was far easier to think when he was moving, and he would have to be able to think clearly to know what he was to do with Merlin. No doubt whatever the supposed crime was it had been done in Arthur's service. Whatever complaints he had about Merlin as a servant, Arthur knew that Merlin did more for him than anyone. It was likely the man had done something foolish-and illegal- to help Arthur. Actually, Arthur could think of a number of crimes Merlin had committed over the years all the help Arthur, so his shocking confession probably wouldn't be that shocking. Certainly it would leave Arthur in the precarious position of punishing Merlin for breaking the law and rewarding Merlin for breaking the law for Arthur, but Arthur didn't mind that conundrum. He minded Merlin's trepidation more; it left Arthur's imagination to wander.

"I didn't want you to have to choose between me and your father," Merlin further explained, though Arthur had already deduced that. Merlin was very good at re-stating the obvious in Arthur's not-so-humble opinion. It was a familiar habit of Arthur's manservant; one Arthur only pretended to mind.

So Arthur nodded, continuing his pacing, "Yes, Merlin, I understand. Now tell me before I wallop you for wasting my time."

"I don't have that excuse anymore," Merlin continued as if he hadn't even heard Arthur speak. He was trying to embolden himself, restating the reasons he'd come back to Arthur's chambers that night instead of telling him in the morning. "Every time we're alone now that you're King I am lying by not telling you. I am lying to you, Arthur, and I cannot. Not because you're my king, but because you're my friend. Because if I truly claim to believe in you, I have to trust you, completely trust you, even if I have every reason to suspect you won't like what I have to say. Because I do believe in you, more than anything, and so you're worthy of the truth. No matter what you said the other day you're a good man and…"

Arthur had been content to let Merlin babble while it seemed he might simply be garnering courage, but now his servant was just stalling. Arthur hadn't the patience for Merlin to stall, and he hoped startling the man might knock him to his senses before they both died of old age. So Arthur snapped, "Merlin!"

"Forbaerne," Merlin exclaimed and a flame appeared in his hand.

Let it be noted that Arthur's first reaction was the most important one. The moment he saw the fire his mind did not scream Merlin is dangerous. Instead all he could think was Merlin is in danger. He leapt towards his servant, determined to extinguish the flame with his bare hands if necessary. Merlin didn't know that though. When Arthur leapt towards him, all Merlin could think was he's coming to strangle me. He therefore acted on instinct, extinguishing the flame and pulling as far away as possible.

Merlin's sudden movement ignited Arthur's second thought, of which he would later feel ashamed. With the fire gone and it was infinitely clear that Merlin wasn't in danger, Arthur was left with the startling realization of what Merlin was- a monster. "You're a witch."

"A warlock, only women can be witches," Merlin corrected in much the same way he would correct Arthur about his schedule, or his accomplishments, or which shoe went on which foot. Of course he was not correcting Arthur on his attire anymore, but the details of magic… which he seemed able to do.

"Only… only witches…" Arthur stammered. A blind fury built up within him. How dare Merlin stand there and correct his word-choice when he had just done magic. Magic, which had turned Morgana against them. Magic, which had threatened them daily. Magic which had killed his father two knights before. "I don't care what you're called I care that after everything we've seen you went and learned magic!"

"Hang on a second, Arthur. You may be a prat but I'm not actually an idiot," Merlin quipped. Any reverence or trepidation which had preceded his announcement was gone. Now Merlin stood before him like he always had, fighting with Arthur as he always had, even though everything between them had just changed irrevocably.

Arthur could not believe Merlin's nerve to call him a prat at a time like this, not when, "Magic is illegal. Magic is evil and you learned it. That is as stupid as you can get!"

"I didn't learn magic; I am magic!" Merlin shouted back. This time his words were accompanied by the flash of golden eyes. Everything around Arthur seemed to quake. Then Merlin regained control, or stopped, or whatever it was he was doing. Everything (and nothing) went back to normal.

Even Merlin seemed to calm down, his voice cracking with emotion when he continued, "I was born with magic, Arthur. I never had a choice. From birth, I was condemned under Camelot's laws. I learned spells so I could control myself, but if I could have made it go away I would have. I can't. I've tried, Arthur, I've tried not to do magic, and every time I think I've managed it something happens and then my magic is more powerful, more destructive, than before I tried to stop at all. I didn't ask to be a warlock just like you didn't ask to be the King of Camelot. I simply am."

Arthur shook his head, but didn't say anything. Merlin was right to say he was the King of Camelot. By that logic Arthur should have immediately called for his guards, retrieved his sword, and executed Merlin. But that possibility didn't even cross his mind. Despite having just seen Merlin's power Arthur still found it impossible to associate Merlin with the terrifying sorcerers his father had long executed. Arthur was furious with Merlin, absolutely furious, but it never crossed his mind to have him killed like a criminal. This felt like a matter between friends, not a matter of the law Arthur had sworn that morning to uphold.

Besides, Merlin's words had just contradicted everything Arthur knew about magic, and so he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around it. If people truly could be born with magic, then Arthur had no idea how it could be a crime. Existing cannot be a crime. That was why he spoke very clearly, ensuring Merlin understood him, "Merlin, you must not lie to me and you must not exaggerate. How long have you had magic for?"

"I'm not lying, Arthur. My mother said my eyes glowed gold the moment I was born. You have to believe me."

Arthur did, and that was the problem. As absurd a notion as it was, he believed Merlin was being truthful about this. How could such a thing be true though? And more importantly- What was Arthur supposed to do now that he knew it was?

For a moment, Arthur stopped pacing. He turned to Merlin, studying him. His gawky servant stood tall, firm, but the passion in his eyes was unmistakable. Merlin looked exactly as he always had. How many years had Arthur known Merlin? Three? Four? How had the man not even changed his wardrobe in that time? The man standing before Arthur then looked exactly like the upstart fool who he'd brawled in the street. Such invariability shouldn't have been possible for any man.

"You mean to tell me that all this time I have known you, you have been practicing magic under my very nose? You have been lying to me!"

Merlin raised his fist, shaking it at Arthur as if he was unable to control the very limbs of his body. "Now wait. That's not fair. I'm telling you now, today, because it wasn't a lie. I did not want to stand between you and your father, between you and the law. I could not tell you until you were King, but don't you dare call me a liar. I know this is the absolute wrong time to tell you, but it is the only time I can tell you that wouldn't involve my lying."

Arthur saw the sense in that, which infuriated him, because nothing involving Merlin having magic shouldn't have been allowed to make sense. Still this did. In the beginning they hadn't known each other, and Merlin had no reason to trust him. By the time Merlin could trust Arthur, he also knew the pain it would cause Arthur to chose between friend and father. Now that impediment was gone, and Merlin was free to tell. He had told. Yet since Arthur refused to permit Merlin to make sense at the moment, he pulled upon the most absurd thing he could, "You still are standing between me and the law. The law hasn't changed, Merlin."

"You are the law, Arthur. With a word you could make magic legal, or pardon me, or make it illegal not to have magic. In the end if you decide to execute me it's because you've decided to."

Again, Merlin was right, which just wasn't fair. The day before when Arthur had been reviewing his coronation oath with Merlin, it had been Arthur who quipped that it seemed strange to rule in accordance with the law when he was the law. How could he rule in accordance with anything but himself?

The weight of it all threatened to crush Arthur, and he collapsed back in his chair. He'd been wrong; pacing was not good. Pacing was just walking without going anywhere, the pinnacle of unproductivity. It seemed far easier for Arthur to collapse in his chair and pretend things were as they'd been before Merlin walked in.

A thought flitted across Arthur's mind, You've gotten your distraction, Arthur. You should be thanking Merlin.

He banished it, instead pointing to the chair in front of him. Merlin sat obediently, then the two of them stared. For a long moment, they sat in silent, their hearts pounding, their minds reeling. Then Arthur said, "You're right, I am the law. I am the only authority that matters-if I say you're evil, you're evil. If I say you're a sorcerer, you're a sorcerer. If I say you shall be burned at dawn, you shall be burned a dawn. So I am going to ask you questions, Merlin, and if you think for even a second about lying to me, or not answering fully, or deceiving me for my own sake-we are done. Two nights ago I thought I'd learned my lesson. I thought I'd learned that magic was pure evil, and that nothing could make me question it again. So if I'm going to be a liar, you owe me nothing but the truth. Understood?"

"Yes, Arthur."

Arthur took a deep breath. His mind was still spinning in confusion, but the things which were clear held his attention- mainly that Merlin, his best friend Merlin, was a sorcerer, a sorcerer with enough goodness and loyalty to confess the first opportunity he had. By everything Arthur knew, such virtues should not be possible in a man who'd practiced magic for decades. Therefore Arthur owed it to himself to hear Merlin out, because it was important, utterly important, that as King he knew the truth- whatever that may be. So he took a deep breath and started with what seemed the most important question of all, "Have you ever hurt someone with your magic."

The idea of Merlin hurting anyone seemed foreign to Arthur, and yet magic seemed to only bring pain. Arthur therefore did not know whether or not he was surprised when a shadow passed over Merlin's eyes, and he answered, "Yes."

Arthur gritted his teeth, leaning back in his chair not to distance himself from Merlin, but from the situation itself. "Have you ever killed someone with your magic?"

"Yes," Merlin answered once more, without even a moment's hesitation. Arthur couldn't stand it, and jumped from his seat. No, pacing was the right option in the first place. Why did I ever sit down? I need to pace, to do something!

"Then tell me Merlin why you even bothered to tell me! Why would a murderer such as yourself feel honor-bound to reveal your crimes?" Arthur shouted at the man.

"Hang on, Arthur," Merlin demanded. Arthur hadn't been looking at Merlin when he shouted, but the tone of Merlin's voice then caused him to stop and turn. Merlin had stood up as well, and he didn't look lanky and young. He looked furious, as furious as Arthur, and for a moment, a single second, Arthur was afraid. It finally occurred to him that all this was true, and therefore Merlin was a powerful, a deadly-powerful, sorcerer. Arthur should be afraid; he was.

Especially when Merlin pulled out Arthur's sword and began waving it around. For one, Arthur had long been trained to recognize swords as dangerous and servants as nothing. Mostly, though, seeing Merlin with a sword ignited an old fear- the fear that Merlin might meet his death at the end of a blade because he was far too useless to wield one.

Merlin didn't accidentally stab himself, however. Instead he looked almost competent as he waved the weapon about, "Look at this Arthur, look. How many people have you killed with it? My magic is no different. Everyone I've ever killed I killed to protect you. There are things I've done-things I regret doing-but none of them were done with magic. I've never used magic to hurt someone who wasn't trying to hurt you."

That seemed… plausible. Arthur didn't know if he believed it, per say, but he could see it. After all, he wasn't nearly as oblivious as people thought him to be. He knew how many times Merlin had saved him by non-magical means. It therefore stood to reason that he would also use his magic to save Arthur as well. "Tell me Merlin. Tell me everyone you've killed with magic."

Merlin paled a bit, and sat down. Arthur considered joining him, but decided the pacing was going much better and kept it up. Servants shouldn't sit in the presence of the King. Arthur shook his head; it could be fairly useless sometimes.

"There have been bandits and enemy soldiers, too many to name, not that I ever bothered to learn their names. If they attacked you I didn't care who they were," Merlin slowly admitted. "As for people you would know, it's still a long list. I don't like killing, Arthur, but I'm good at it. I'm too good at it, I think. The first was Mary Collins, when she pretended to be Lady Helen. You saw me save your life from the knife, but it was my magic that killed her- the chandelier. Edwin Muirden, Lady Sophia and Aulfric who were Sidhes, Nimueh, Hengist, Aredian, Grunhilda, the changeling in Elena… there were probably others. I know there were others whom I helped to kill, even if you made the final blow I distracted them, knocked them off their horse, whatever I had to do to help you."

Admittedly, Arthur didn't recognize all the names. Those he did recognize had his mind reeling, but the one thing they shared in common? They had all threatened Arthur. But still, "That is quite a number of people, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes darkened, but he nodded. When he spoke, Arthur could feel his servant's regret. "Yes, it is."

Though he still had questions, Arthur knew then that Merlin was irrevocably forgiven for anything he'd done. His friend sounded heartbroken, completely and utterly dejected. Merlin, it seemed, felt the same way about killing as Arthur did- sometimes it was necessary, but that did not ever make it good. Though they might not hesitate in the middle of a fight, once the battle was won Arthur and Merlin had to face reality. Someone had loved their enemies, and now that someone's life would never be the same. Arthur had wept the first time he took a life, wept until his father slapped him for doing so. Uther had always insisted that no man was worth your tears, especially not an enemy; Arthur had always known on this one thing his father was wrong.

It seemed though that Arthur's father had been wrong about a great deal of things. For one, magic, and those who practiced it, were not inherently evil. Merlin certainly wasn't, not if he could lament the deaths of men and women who had tried to kill them both. Whatever Arthur did next, he did with that in mind.

Though his resolution was not particularly obvious in his next question, "And have you ever used magic to hurt me, purposely I mean?"

"Never!" Merlin swore, lifting his eyes to meet Arthur's gaze. Arthur hadn't expected any other answer, but he was still relieved to hear it. He was less relieved when Merlin blinked, obviously having realized something.

"Err, never recently. Not since I knew, knew you I mean…" Merlin corrected. Arthur only raised a brow. Merlin had used magic against him? But then…

"When we first met, or the second time we met, and we dueled in the street? I was, ah, I was using magic to fight you. But in my defense you were using a mace, which is equally as deadly, and I personally think that it is far more egregious for a prince, the sworn protector of the people, to attack a seemingly-defenseless commoner than it is for said commoner who just so happened not to be defenseless after all, to use whatever resources he had to defeat said prince. And if those resources just happened to be illegal, illegal due only to a highly unjust law, then I personally think the commoner was completely justified in his use of magic, don't you, Arthur?"

There was only one response to such blabbering. Merlin had come there with something important to say, and he had said it. Now it was up to Arthur-King Arthur- to make things right. Before he could, however, there was something his stupid, magical, loyal, blabbering servant must do, and Arthur told him to do so in no uncertain terms, "Shut up, Merlin."

AN:

I don't really have any expectation of ever making a longer story out of this, but you never know. Besides, I think it's best left there, with the future's possibilities endless. If anyone wanted to take this and run with it, you're welcome to, but for now at least this is the end. I hope you enjoyed!