A Hester story, spanned over three chapters.

When Arthur finally realized, it was a fairly normal day. They were wandering toward Camelot through bandit-infested territory, returning from a journey to a neighboring kingdom. It had been a fairly typical adventure, in which Arthur had been attracted to the one girl who was obviously a sorcerer (generic villain #83), had pigheadedly refused Merlin's warnings, and then believed the manservant wholeheartedly when he'd told him that of course, Arthur, ancient iron-wrought doors fall on people all the time. So naturally, journeying back through the middle of the forest in broad daylight, they were attacked. Well, Merlin was attacked, in any case. Arthur, being Arthur, stupidly jumped in and knocked his manservant aside. So, as in the style of their many similar encounters, Merlin found himself sprawled on his stomach, watching helplessly as Arthur fought. He stretched out his arm and whispered one of his simplest spells, knocking away a straggler. Only this time, one thing was different.

Arthur saw.

All it took was a slight turn of the Prince's head, just a quick glance, to see if his friend was alright. Merlin could even believe for a moment that Arthur had turned just a second too late to catch the gold in his iris. But then the Prince's eyes went wide and Merlin knew, and felt his whole world stop with one quick, ill-timed look.

Arthur gasped and stepped forward.

The action spurred Merlin on and he jumped, scrambling to his knees and moving until his back hit a tree. He fell still, unable to look his Prince in the eye and see the hatred he knew would be there. Arthur took another step toward the warlock, hesitated, and stopped. Even though the bandits were long since dispatched, the forest was deafening. The sound of a cracking twig echoed and oscillated like a taut string released from an archer's fingers, and Merlin's breath faltered in the answering silence. Eventually, the boy risked a glance at his master. Arthur's face was blank, and he seemed to be debating something furiously with himself. He caught Merlin's gaze for an instant and the boy jerked his head away, staring determinedly down at his knees. Arthur drew in a sharp breath.

"Right," he said. "Merlin, up."

Merlin's head shot up and he stared at Arthur fearfully.

"Arthur—"

"No," said the Prince firmly. "No."

When Merlin remained frozen Arthur strode forward and grasped him by the arms, hauling him to his feet. He studied Merlin for a moment and sheathed his sword.

"Look at me," said Arthur.

Merlin, for what may have been the first time since he came to Camelot, silently obeyed. He was seized by the intense feeling that his whole life had led up to this moment and that whatever Arthur found in his gaze would ultimately determine his path. Arthur revealed nothing.

Merlin squirmed but the Prince did not relax his grip and pulled the boy closer, as though afraid he might escape. Which was ridiculous, of course, seeing as Arthur would catch him in seconds, but Merlin wisely chose to remain silent and waited for Arthur to speak again.

"You know magic," he said finally. Merlin did not answer, but once again cast his eyes to his feet.

"How long have-you-how the hell do you know magic, Merlin!"

How long have you been a prat? thought the boy nastily, but he said nothing, and attempted to shuffle away.

"No," said Arthur viciously, and Merlin was taken aback. "You don't get to hide from me, Merlin." The Prince growled the last and the boy shivered violently. "Why didn't you tellme?"

"You weren't ready to know," Merlin said quietly. Arthur's grip tightened, his eyes narrowed.

"I 'wasn't ready to know,'" he hissed mockingly. "And where did I have any say in that decision, Merlin? I am your Prince. You are my servant." He pulled the warlock closer, and gritted his teeth. "I am your friend and I had every rightto know something that dangerous." His grip tightened once more and Merlin winced, feeling tears spring to his eyes. "You could've—"

He stopped, suddenly, strickenly, and looked so horrified and so hurt that Merlin felt sick.

"You—you actually—" he paused to breathe and when he spoke again his voice was rough and shattered. "You actually thought I would kill you." Arthur seemed to sway with the weight of his words and instantly, unthinkingly, Merlin reached out to steady him.

"No," he said, very quietly, and it was mostly true. "No, Arthur, I—" Merlin sighed. "You were already caught in the middle of Uther's hate. I couldn't make it worse." He gestured helplessly, willing the Prince to understand. Arthur glared at him, though he didn't move the warlock's hand from his shoulder.

"That wasn't for you to decide, Merlin," he said finally. "But I—I understand, I think." For an instant, the warlock felt his breath catch and his chest tighten and like maybe this was it, and the Prince understood and everything would be fine. But then Arthur sighed again, and Merlin's heart dropped. The two fell silent, watching the woods around them.

"You need to tell me all of it," the blond said after a time. "Everything. But not now. Now, we need to go home and I need time to—to think about all of this."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest—How could they go back to Camelot? Didn't Arthur realize how dangerous it was for both of them now? What would stop the Prince from letting it slip to anyone, to Uther?—but then Merlin caught Arthur's gaze, and wisely remained silent.

They walked back slowly and unsteadily with Arthur leading the way. Merlin let the Prince be and simply watched his steps, the tense of his muscles, the occasional shake of a head or a muttered curse. He lowered his eyes after the fifth, "Goddamn it, Merlin" and chose instead to watch his own feet. Now that Arthur knew, if he did decide to turn Merlin in, there would be no reason for him to stay. He would simply use his magic to escape and hide himself somewhere beyond Uther's reach for a time. He thought, with no small amount of affection, that he would have to watch Arthur from afar, because there was no way the lousy prat would manage without him. If Arthur did somehow find it in his heart to keep Merlin around, things would never be the same between them. After that thought, Merlin occupied the rest of his walk with mourning the loss of the Prince's friendship.

By the time they had made their way back to Camelot, the late-evening air had already begun to settle over the city, winding its way through the corridors of Uther's palace and down through the lower town, drifting over the dust and seeping into the warlock's skin. Arthur left Merlin at the gates to go and train with his Knights and Merlin went solemnly to finish his duties. He used no magic and looked out the window constantly, keeping an eye on Arthur as he charged and slashed at the unfortunate wooden dummy in the courtyard. The Prince's shoulders were wrought with tension. His moves were forced and stilted as though his muscles had locked tight and all of his usual grace had fled. He was, thankfully, no longer scowling, but the look of pure determination on Arthur's face worried Merlin almost more than the blonde's displeasure. It meant that Arthur had come to some sort of decision, and there was little to nothing anyone could do to change his mind. Merlin quelled his panic and resigned himself to simply wait and see what the Prince would do when he finally stilled his blade.

Merlin met Arthur again as he was walking back to Gaius' chambers that evening. He had just rounded the corner from the kitchen when he was caught and he struggled violently at first, clawing at the strong arm that wrapped itself around his chest and hauled him effortlessly along. It was a moment before he realized that his assailant was wearing Arthur's jacket and Arthur's rings and had Arthur's stupid, pompous, hair on his head. Merlin did his best to keep up with the Prince's brisk pace, but in the end Arthur practically dragged him up to his chambers and only relinquished his hold on his servant to bolt the doors behind them.

He rounded on the warlock then, and for the first time in his life, Merlin found himself truly and horrifyingly terrified of Arthur Pendragon.

"Show me."

Merlin blinked.

"What? Arthur—"

"No, Merlin," the Prince snarled and stepped menacingly forward. "You've lied to me for far too long. Show me. I want to see."

The boy hesitated, and Arthur had to restrain himself from yelling at him again. Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes and muttered some words in a language the Prince didn't understand. He found himself obscenely fascinated with the warlock in that moment, when his entire body tensed and he held his arm out in front of him, fist firmly clenched. A light shone from between his fingers, like the first bright glow of a fire being lit in the hearth. Arthur looked up right as Merlin opened his eyes, just in time for his stomach to drop and a cold, awful dread to take its place as he watched the last curls of gold fade back into blue.

"Here," said Merlin. He held out his hand. "Look."

Arthur looked, and wished he hadn't. Because sitting there, curled in Merlin's palm was the irrefutable evidence of a betrayal that he had hoped against all hope he had imagined in a moment of panic. A tiny, burning, golden dragon fluttered its wings and lifted its head to look at the Prince. A tiny, burning, magical dragon, something Merlin had made with his only his breath and his hand and an utterance that could be learned by anyone and used by only a few. The freezing shock of it slammed into Arthur and he sat heavily on the edge of his bed.

"Stop," he said, breathlessly. The cold in his belly surged and he shook his head. "Stop, Merlin, just—just make it go away."

Merlin jerked his hand away and Arthur almost caved at the horrible, hurt look on his friend's face, but then he realized that the man in front of him was a sorcerer and suddenly just wanted to cry from it all. Merlin sighed.

"Look," he said. "I'm sorry, alright?" he lifted his eyes to meet Arthur's own. "I didn't ask to have magic. And I just—your father hates people like me. Youhate people like me." It hurt to hear it-hurt like an arrow ripping through Arthur's chest-but it was true. "But I—I'm your friend, Arthur." The warlock sagged, already defeated. "All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe."

Arthur glared at the boy.

"And you thought the best way to accomplish this was by lyingto me?" he spat. "Tell me, Merlin, what exactly—"

"Yes!" Merlin yelled. His face was flushed and angry and Arthur flinched. "I did have to lie. If you'd known, I wouldn't have been able to help you! You wouldn't have let me!" Arthur's face twisted in rage and he opened his mouth to speak, but Merlin cut him off.

"No, Arthur," he snapped. "If I had told you four years ago that I had magic, would you really have let me live?" The Prince deflated a little at his friend's question.

"I—I wouldn't have—I'd never want you dead, Merlin," Arthur said, earnestly. The warlock sighed again.

"But you wouldn't have wanted me here," he pointed out sadly. "And that would've meant I couldn't help you, and I wasn't going to let that happen." Merlin spared a moment to glare at him. "A great prat like you would've been dead in a week."

The blond was struck with an odd rush of affection for the boy in front of him, because only Merlin would have the guts to insult the Crown Prince when his life was at stake. How he had been able to keep his magic a secret from everyone was beyond Arthur completely. All it had taken was a single, ill-timed look on his part and—

"Wait," said Arthur. "Merlin, you're an idiot." The boy gave him a look of such incredulity that Arthur almost backed down. Almost. "How did you possibly manage keep this a secret from everyone?"

Judging from the look on the boy's face, he hadn't.

Arthur felt his his body flood with an awful sickening fear and he stood abruptly.

"Merlin," he said lowly. "Who else knows?" The servant's eyes widened and he shook his head nervously, and Arthur wondered how he managed to hide anything from him.

"Arthur," he said. "I can't—"

"Gaius has to know," Arthur said bluntly. "But it's not just him, is it?" Merlin's eyes flicked away from his.

"I—"

"Who?" Arthur hissed. Merlin flushed again and Arthur felt an irrational spike of jealousy. He loomed over the warlock and grasped his shoulders roughly.

"Who is it?"

"Arthur—"

"Merlin!" he shouted. "How am I supposed to keep you safe if you won't stop lying to me!" His temper unleashed, Arthur felt like every feeling he'd ever had for the boy was bursting in his chest and he wanted to strangle Merlin and kiss him and kill him and hold him and most of all never, ever let him leave his sight again.

"I wasn't—wait." Merlin stepped away from the Prince. "You—keep me safe?" the surprise in his voice clanged in Arthur's ears.

"Yes, Merlin!" he yelled. It came out harsher than he intended and the servant flinched. Arthur took a deep breath.

"I mean, yes," he said again, softly. The boy looked at him. "I'm going to keep you safe." Merlin blinked.

"But," he spluttered. "You—you're not angry?" The blond rolled his eyes.

"Of course I'm angry, Merlin," he snapped. "You've been lying to me for years." The boy slumped and Arthur sighed. He clasped Merlin's shoulders again, but the gesture was kind and reaffirming and Arthur could feel Merlin relax into his grip.

"You're also my friend, Merlin," he said. "I—" Arthur held his breath and reminded himself that it wasn't fair for him to lie by omission, either.

"I love you, Merlin," he said finally. "And I know that you'd never hurt me, not intentionally." Merlin was blushing again but he looked sick with relief.

"Well, good," he said. He shifted uncomfortably. "So…does this mean I'm notsacked, then?" Arthur stared at him and wondered, not for the first time, why on earth he was best friends with an idiot.

"Merlin," he said, slowly, so that the warlock might have a hope of keeping up. "I love you." Merlin looked at him oddly.

"Uh, y—yes, you've said that, Arthur," he reminded him. "I love you, too." He said it was such ease and casualty that Arthur bristled.

"I don't think you quiteunderstand, Merlin," he muttered through gritted teeth. The boy rolled his eyes.

"Yes I do, you clotpole," he said bitingly. Merlin put his hand on the Prince's shoulder. "I love you, too." Arthur felt sick and nervous and he knew that Merlin didn't know, that he couldn'tknow, because Arthur had never let on and never noticed anything before.

"Arthur." Merlin's voice broke through the Prince's mantra. "Arthur, I love you." Arthur looked his friend straight in the eye and realized that Merlin must've been good at hiding things, because the magic was one thing but how in the world had he managed to miss this?

So Arthur kissed him, full and sweet and Merlin smiled when he pulled away.

"You're a prat," he told him. Arthur glared.

"I'm still a Prince, you know," he informed the boy, though it was somewhat ruined by way his hand came idly up to cup Merlin's jaw. "Well, I'm still mad at you, anyway." Merlin had the grace to look sheepish.

"But," he began, "you understand why—why I didn't tell you, right?" Arthur sighed and let his hand fall. He didn't answer for a few moments and wandered over to the window instead. Below, the square was teeming with people, preparing for the festival that was in a week to come. He spotted Guinevere—sweet, kind Guinevere who deserved more love than he had for her—and turned back to the warlock, arms crossed protectively over his chest.

"You still haven't told me who else it is who knows about your….thing." Saying the word out loud would still feel too heavy and poisonous on his tongue, but Arthur had to remind himself that the boy in front of him was magic and it couldn't be all the evil his father had taught him.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably.

"Not Gwen," he muttered. "If that's what you're thinking."

"I was actually more worried about someone like Morgana," said Arthur honestly. "I trust her with a secret about as far as I—well, as far as you could throw her, anyway." Merlin glared at him for a moment, but the message was clear.

"Well, it's not her, thank goodness, so we don't have to worry about that," said the warlock.

"So there is someone else," said Arthur triumphantly. Merlin's eyes widened much in the way they usually did when the servant gave an excuse that Arthur always found too ridiculous not to believe.

"No," he said firmly. "Tell me who it is, Merlin. Now." And it really had to be Guinevere, because they talked about everything, as far as Arthur knew, and it wasn't like there was anyone else the warlock could've trusted with his secret. Other than Arthur, of course.

"Lancelot." Arthur blinked.

"Excuse me?" he said, incredulous. Jealousy pooled in the pit of Arthur's stomach.

"Lancelot knows," said Merlin, quietly. "He just-"

"Let me get this straight, Merlin," the Prince spat. "I've been your closest friend for years-for years, Merlin-and you decide to tell your darkest secret to a man you knew for a week?" Arthur was nearly yelling by the end of it, and he had to remind himself that this was his father's castle, and if anyone overheard them Merlin would be dead within a matter of hours. He settled for sticking the boy with his most vicious glare and watching with satisfaction as Merlin squirmed guiltily.

"It was an accident," Merlin told him. "I didn't mean for him to find out, it just-he needed the magic, Arthur. To defeat the griffin." Merlin looked at him. "I did it to save you," he said. "And Camelot. But mostly you."

Arthur's chest tightened and his glare softened a bit, but he kept his shoulders tight. Merlin seemed to see through it, though, and the Prince couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit ineffective at the servant's wide smile. He sighed.

"Fine," he said. "Just, fine, Merlin. But you can't tell anyone else." Arthur eyed his friend sternly. "Not anyone." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Of course not, sire," he said, spitting the word in a way even Morgana hadn't mastered. Arthur gave Merlin a look of such seriousness that the servant felt abashed.

"I mean it, Merlin," he said. "If anyone else found out and they told father, and then he-I just-I," he paused for a breath, to steady himself. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you." He looked broken for a moment and so unlike Merlin's Arthur that the world seemed to stop. "I just don't."

"You don't have to know," said Merlin earnestly. "If you're not going to get rid of me, Arthur, then no one will." The Prince looked at the warlock's expression and decided that he believed him.

"You should move into the antechamber," he said suddenly. Merlin blinked at him, and Arthur was a little surprised himself.

"What?" he said. He wrinkled his nose. "Why? I like my room." Arthur let out a slow breath.

"Because, Merlin," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It really is ridiculous that a servant should live so far from his master's chambers." Especially when they've been keeping secrets like their affinity for magic and their undying love for you all to themselves, he added silently. Merlin gave the Prince a decidedly suspicious look.

"Alright, Arthur," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll talk it over with Gaius." At the physician's name, Arthur looked up sharply.

"Are you going to tell him that I know?"

Merlin stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"Oh," he said eloquently. "I hadn't thought about that." He looked faintly sick and Arthur felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Do-do you me to?" said Merlin shakily. Arthur considered him for a moment.

"How much has your magic helped?" Merlin shifted and the Prince crossed his arms over his chest. "Be honest, Merlin. I think I deserve that much."

Merlin winced and Arthur knew it was a low blow, but he kept his expression blank and waited for an answer.

"More than you know," the boy admitted. He avoided Arthur's gaze, but the Prince nodded anyway.

"Then tell him," he said. Merlin's head shot up, his eyes wide and pleading. Arthur smirked.

"This is your fault, Merlin," he said. "Of course, if you think Gaius would rather hear it from someone else before you got up the courage to tell him, I'm sure I could always-"

"No," said Merlin loudly. "No that's, that's fine, sire." He swallowed and gave Arthur a truly heroic attempt at a smile. "I'll tell him." The blond held his gaze.

"You know I'm doing this for you, Merlin," he said quietly. "If Gaius knows that I know, he doesn't have to hide anything from me. And if you ever need something...special," he reached out and held Merlin's face carefully in his hands. "I can get it for you." Merlin smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Arthur," he said quietly. "I'll-I'll tell him, I promise." The Prince nodded and slung an arm across the boy's shoulders.

"Now, about this whole 'not sacking me' business..." Arthur smirked.

"Why don't you start with the stables?"