Chapter Text
Chapter 1: So many things that you wish I knew
If anyone were to ask Arthur what his thoughts were on Merlin, his manservant, several things would come to mind. Loyal (of course), clumsy, brave, stupid, and just a little too curious to be ordinary . So perhaps, Arthur shouldn’t have been surprised when he discovered that Merlin had magic. But he was.
To his credit, he was a little less surprised that Merlin mostly only used magic in reckless, heroic attempts to protect him . After all, he’d long known Merlin was loyal to a fault. If that meant committing treason for the crown, so be it.
Still, it didn’t sit well with Arthur.
After he’d gotten over the initial shock and stamped down the hurt at the thought that Merlin hadn’t trusted him with this, he was left more than a little lost. Should he ignore it? Confront him? Demand him to stop?
Arthur hadn’t even made up his mind when he soon learnt that turning a blind eye would be impossible. Now that he knew of Merlin’s magic, it was easy to see anywhere. The boy used it with seemingly no caution whatsoever and Arthur wondered at his own foolishness for not having noticed it before.
It was everywhere. In bath water that never took longer than a minute to heat up, trays that almost fell out of Merlin's grasp but conveniently righted their balance again, in the way his mail shirt never snagged on the same spot twice, or how the path seemed just a little bit more clearer when they rode together and how, of course, branches miraculously snapped off of centuries old trees to land directly atop one bandit or another.
Even his horse seemed unnaturally cooperative when Merlin was nearby.
So, yes, ignoring it was out of the question when Arthur was certain that at the rate he was going, Merlin would be found out.
On the other hand, demanding he stop didn’t seem like a much better option either.
Merlin had hidden his magic (or, tried to) for a reason. If Arthur condemned him for it, he'd just be validating Merlin’s fear and that he was right to not trust him. That was the last thing he wanted. He cared too much for Merlin to allow their friendship to be tainted by an order such as that.
That only left one option. Confrontation.
He wasn’t sure what it would achieve but he knew it couldn’t be a worse option than the others. At the very least, he would get some answers and then figure out their next steps from there.
So, a fortnight after initially seeing Merlin’s eyes flash amber, as a heavy branch knocked out one of the bandits he’d been fighting with the knights, Arthur waited for Merlin to slip up again. This time he was not going to quickly avert his eyes before Merlin could catch him watching, as he’d done several times since then.
He didn’t need to wait very long.
It was past dinner and Arthur was going over the reports for the next day, glancing at Merlin every few seconds as he bumbled around the room getting things in order for the next day.
It was a nice calm and he wondered, distantly, if things would change after their talk . He hoped not. He would do everything in his power to make sure their friendship remained steadfast, even in the face of Merlin’s reckless behavior.
The castle was getting colder as winter steadily drew nearer, and eventually, Merlin crouched next to the hearth to start a fire and wade off the chill. Arthur quickly busied himself. He knew by now that Merlin preferred to use his magic for this task but that he wouldn’t do it if he thought Arthur wasn’t distracted enough.
So, he shuffled the papers in front of him and watched out of the corner of his eye as Merlin quickly turned to glance at him. Once he’d looked away, Arthur fixed his stare on him.
Oh god, here goes.
Arthur didn’t need to see Merlin’s face to know his eyes flashed that beautiful gold and that he didn’t need to murmur anything at all to get the fire going. The flame came to life instantly.
He waited.
When Merlin turned back around to glance at him one more time, Arthur raised an eyebrow and watched as Merlin’s eyes grew owlishly wide.
When it seemed he wasn’t going to do anything except blink, Arthur finally said, “What was that?”
Another blink. “What was what?”
Heaven forbid Merlin ever make anything easy for him.
“You know what.”
Merlin tilted his head a bit and seemed to think feigning confusion would work. “No?” Arthur wondered if that had worked on him in the past.
“ Mer lin.”
“Yes, Arthur?” He had the audacity to smile in the midst of being confronted about breaking one of Camelot’s most sacred laws. Only Merlin.
“That was magic ,” he seethed. His anger was not entirely fake. After all, he was still mad that Merlin was foolish enough to learn it, let alone practice it so regularly.
Merlin’s jaw fell open. “Was not!”
Lord help him.
“That fire just lit itself. I’m not blind.”
Merlin snorted and Arthur thought maybe that was a little fair.
“You’re being a dollophead again, Arthur. Did you get knocked too hard on the head in practice today?” He smiled, cheekily and stood up, dusting off his hands.
“No," he glared. "I know what I saw.”
Merlin seemed to hesitate and his eyes drifted around the room, uncertainly. Still, he didn’t acknowledge the accusation.
Arthur sighed and dropped the quill he had started to fidget with—a terrible habit that no amount of royal training managed to beat out of him. “Why would you do this? You know the law, Merlin. To learn sorcery and practice it so recklessly, while living in the castle? How could you be so foolish?”
Merlin’s stance shifted and, finally, he protested, “I didn’t learn it. It’s something I was born with. I can’t help it any more than I can help having two hands.”
Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought magic had to be learnt?”
“Yes, in most cases. I’m a bit of an anomaly. I could make things happen with my mind even as a baby.” Merlin’s tone was aiming for casual but Arthur could see the fear in his eyes and the tense set of his shoulders.
He blew out a breath. “Why would you come to Camelot of all places then? That’s just stupidity.”
Merlin shrugged. “Too many people back home found out about my magic, and they weren’t exactly happy. My mother suggested going to Gaius to learn to control it better.” Gaius knew too. Wonderful.
“The hurricane with Kanen’s men, that was you?” Arthur had no doubt about it now.
Merlin nodded and his arms were crossed in a defensive stance.
“What else? Tell me everything?”
Merlin startled. “About my magic?”
Arthur sighed. “Maybe it’ll help me understand better.”
Merlin crossed the room and settled in the chair across the desk. He took a deep breath and started explaining everything right from his first day in Camelot. Arthur was woefully prepared for everything that came out of Merlin's mouth next. An alarming number of pieces fell into place as Merlin talked about everything from dragons to griffins to magical swords and enchanted goblets.
He spoke about shields with live snakes, potions that went horribly wrong, spells whispered under his breath before battle, and a whole plethora of people always trying to kill him or Arthur—usually just Arthur.
He spoke of courage and bravery unlike any Arthur had ever witnessed and he marvelled at the man before him.
Merlin grew more confident in his explanations as he went on, encouraged by Arthur’s carefully neutral tone when he asked questions. Inside, Arthur was reeling and his head was positively spinning. At some point, he’d poured them both some wine but it didn’t seem to be doing much to calm his racing thoughts.
He could’ve never even imagined the amount of threats Merlin faced to protect him. It made his heart swell when Merlin explained it was all for him .
It made his heart break.
As he listened, it became clearer what he had to do. A fourth alternative that he hadn’t even thought to consider; nor one that he thought he’d ever have to.
Arthur took in Merlin’s expression, completely light now as he reminisced about all the times he’d managed to fool Arthur in some silly way. He looked so carefree and happy to finally be able to get it off his chest that Arthur couldn’t bring himself to do it in this instant.
Instead, he nodded when Merlin finished and took a large swing of his third goblet of wine. He allowed every bit of his father’s upbringing to tinge his tone with a harsh coldness as he dismissed him, saying he had much to think about.
He didn’t miss the way Merlin’s expression fell, or that fear and uncertainty clouded his eyes again as he left with little more than a mumbled, “Alright, I'll see you in the morning.”
He waited until the door had closed to bury his face in his hands. Despite being the best route, it was also the hardest one. Merlin couldn’t stay. He was sure of it.
Nothing would dissuade him from protecting Arthur when he was already so set in his ways and certainly capable enough to do it. But, Arthur refused to let it go on. Merlin was more than just his servant. He couldn’t allow him to keep putting his life on the line for him. What kind of friend would that make him?
Not to mention, the threat of anyone else catching him doing magic. His father would have him on the pyre by morning, and past experience told Arthur he would be helpless.
Merlin would happily die for Arthur, with no regard for how that would make him feel. And, though Arthur couldn’t imagine a life without the idiot, it was certainly better that it be because he’s somewhere far from Camelot, rather than because he’s dead .
That was an even worse, unimaginable thought.
Arthur didn’t change into his nightshirt, before he collapsed onto his bed. He lay awake all night, not even attempting to sleep as he thought through every other possible course of action, desperate to not have to do go through with this. By the time the sun rose, he’d discarded them all and decided on a clear plan of action.
He hated it more than anything, but it had to be done.
He got up with bleary eyes and got a few things in order. Then, he waited patiently at the dining table, for his forever unpunctual servant to show up. He took the time to collect his thoughts and forced himself to push away every ounce of affection deep, deep down.
When Merlin entered, not looking much better than himself, Arthur was ready. He didn’t falter at Merlin’s hunched shoulders or the way he avoided his eyes as he set breakfast down on the table.
Merlin hesitated before asking, “So?” He crossed his arms as he waited for Arthur to dole out his judgement.
Arthur steeled himself as his eyes met Merlin’s deep blue, now rimmed with red. He’d never felt more cruel before than he did in this moment.
“You know Camelot’s law, and despite your intentions with your magic , you are not above it.” He tried to sound disgusted, again, thinking of all the times he’d seen his father reacting to magic and channeling that. He was Uther Pendragon’s son. If anyone had it in them to be cruel to a sorcerer—no matter how loyal they were—it would be him.
“The pyre, then?” Merlin asked, bravely. Arthur internally commended him for his nerves of steel.
“No. You are to leave Camelot by sundown and never return.” Then, because he knew it wasn't enough to simply banish Merlin, he added, “It is a testament to our friendship that I haven’t thrown you in the dungeons, yet.”
For this to work, He’d have to cut all illusions that Arthur cared even a little about him. Merlin had to hate him. Otherwise, he was sure to remain in Camelot, sneaking about saving his royal arse whenever he felt like.
Merlin’s loyalty and stubbornness must be stamped out or this would all be for nought.
Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “Really. Thi s is how you repay friendship?”
Arthur stood up, knocking his chair back. “I don’t bloody well owe you anything! Magic is the root of evil and it’s astounding to me that you haven’t forsaken it even after seeing all the evidence of that. It just goes to show what kind of man you are.”
Merlin shook his head. “No. There’s no way you actually believe that. Not when, I’ve told you every instance I’ve ever used magic for and it’s never been for evil. It was always for you.”
He scoffed. “I couldn’t care less about what you told me. You’re a sorcerer. You think I’d ever believe a word that comes out of the same mouth that speaks of the old religion with reverence?”
Merlin flinched back and Arthur begged whatever higher power there was for this to be it. Just leave. Please. Don't make me go on.
“You’d forsake our years of friendship and trust over this?”
Arthur shrugged. “You were just my servant, Merlin. Don’t get ahead of yourself. And you had to have known I’d never accept you. Why else have you never told me?”
When Merlin remained quiet, with hurt settling in his eyes, Arthur added one final blow. “You disgust me, and I can’t stand the sight of you anymore. Now get out.” He stepped back with finality.
Please leave. Don’t make me open my mouth again. Please.
But Merlin was more stubborn than that. “Don’t do this, Arthur. You know me. I’d never hurt you,” he pleaded.
“I don’t know you," he hissed. "And I sure as hell don’t want you.” The look of hurt that settled on Merlin’s face was one that would stay in the very front of Arthur’s eyes for years.
When he saw Merlin start to tear up, he quickly turned. He blinked several times to clear his own eyes of any wetness as he grabbed the pouch of coins on the dresser. He turned back with renewed resolve. It was nearly over. One final shove.
He walked over to Merlin and shoved the pouch in his hands. “For your services.” He had wanted to put enough in there for him to buy a whole village, but he couldn’t. It would only serve to reverse the work he was doing right now. “No need to bother the stewardess about the month’s pay before you leave. I want you out of here quickly.”
He almost stumbled over his words when he saw Merlin rub a shaky hand at his face, wiping away a tear that had escaped. He looked between the pouch and him, shaking his head. “Where do you expect me to go? Everything I have, everyone I love is here.”
Arthur gave a careless shrug. “That was your mistake, coming to Camelot and putting down roots as if you could ever fit in here.” The words tasted like bile in his mouth and he struggled to not choke over them. “I don’t care where you go, as long as it’s not in my kingdom, ” he spat out.
Merlin looked up from his intent glare at the pouch and fixed him with a pained look. Arthur swallowed, forced his expression to remain cold, and took the opportunity to commit the exact blue of his eyes to memory.
It hurt that his last moments with the man would be tainted by this . He wanted to see him smile one more time. He wanted to be called a clotpole and a dollophead and a trollop and whatever other idiotic name Merlin could think of, just one more time, because god knows he was right .
Instead, he got, “You’re a lesser man than I thought possible, Arthur Pendragon." He swallowed. "And I feel ashamed to ever have called you my friend.”
“Not more than I am, believe me.”
Merlin tossed the pouch on the little ground left between them. There was a flash of his golden eyes and a spur of flame. What landed on the ground was nothing more than ashes.
Merlin didn’t look at him again as he turned and left. Arthur’s eyes didn’t leave his back and when the door resolutely shut, he collapsed on the ground, leaning against the leg of a table and sobbed. It took every ounce of willpower to not go after him.
This is for the best. He’s safe now. He doesn’t have to run after me ever again. He’s safe.
It became a mantra in his head that he repeated again and again, every time he felt his resolve falter.
He sat there for hours, willing his tears to stop shedding and eventually giving up and succumbing to his misery. Every word he’d said replayed in his mind, in an agonising loop and Arthur felt he ought to throw up from the taste it left in his mouth.
More than that, he knew he deserved worse. He wished Merlin had shown his anger, maybe knocked some things around. All he had was the ashes on the floor that seemed to mock him. He should’ve known Merlin wouldn’t accept the money.
Several times, a knock would sound at his door and Arthur would quiet his sobs and his breathing until they left. They weren’t Merlin. He knew, because every time footsteps approached his door, he listened for the familiar pattern. It never came.
Arthur didn’t move from where he was curled on the ground until it neared sundown. He got up on shaky legs and went over to the window that looked over the courtyard. He waited forever for Merlin to exit the castle and leave through the gates. When night fell and the numbers buzzing around the courtyard dwindled and he had yet to spot Merlin’s familiar brown jacket and dark head of hair, he realised he was already gone.
Merlin had left, and Arthur had missed him.