Chapter Text
Merlin had imagined a vast amount of ways in which Arthur would discover his magic: he’d be caught when trying to protect his friends, he’d confess for the greater good, he’d break down and give in. And he also thought about, if or when it happened, what Arhur’s reaction would be. Would he sentence him to the pyre immediately? Would he hear him out? Would he banish Merlin? Too angry to let him stay, but too attached to end his life? All of these different ideas plagued Merlin day in and day out as he waited and wondered if the wretched day would ever come to pass.
It did, eventually, though it played out in a humiliatingly different way compared to how he thought it would.
It all started one morning as Merlin waltzed into the King’s chambers like he owned the place, set down the plate of food he brought in (of which was missing a piece he’s stolen) and then began his routine of waking Arthur up.
“Rise and shine!” he beamed as he ripped the covers off the man, making him immediately curl up in on himself from the abrupt coldness. “Come on now, Arthur, you’ve got things to do.” He goes to the window and retracts the curtains so the sun can direct itself right into the King’s eyes. “Let’s have you, lazy daisy!”
“Please stop.”
“There’s no pleasing you, Arthur, there really isn’t. You complain that I don’t do my job but then when I do do it, you tell me to stop.” Honestly, royalty demands just too much from the everyday people.
“How on earth is this doing your job well?”
“...Oh, you want me to do it well? You should have said, sire,” Merlin replies, earning a pillow thrown at his head. “Hey!”
“Shut up, Merlin!”
It takes the usual amount of time to get Arthur out of his bed and into his clothes for the day. When he goes to sit down, he doesn’t even ask. He just looks.
“I didn’t take anything.”
“Merlin?”
“I took one itty-bitty little thing.”
“Give it back.”
“You want me to throw up the sausage?” Merlin asks, miserably failing to stifle his laugh at the face Arthur makes.
“Just get me another one!” he demands.
“Wha—no.” He turns his nose up in disgust. “It’s one sausage and you’ve still got three right there. I’m not going all the way down to the kitchens for one thing.”
“Did…did you just say no to me?” Arthur asks, and the words sound as if he’s truly mad, but his voice is bored. This is, again, a normal morning.
“I did, sire.”
“I am your king.”
“And I am Merlin.”
“...Fair point, I suppose,” he mutters under his breath, accepting that his breakfast is lacking…well, nothing. It’s always four sausages on his plate in the kitchen when he has them, and it’s always three when he sits down to eat. At this point, all the talk is a part of their routine, as if it’s as much a part of the list of things to get done as is Merlin waking Arthur up and getting him dressed. One would think the King would be annoyed at this, but he’s grown rather used to his incompetent servant.
“What’s on for today?” he asks before taking bites of his meal.
“You’ve got a council meeting this morning, followed by training with the knights. After that, you’ve got a window of rest before the hunt you planned.”
“Ah, yes. It’ll be nice to relax.”
“Right.” Merlin sounds very unenthused and it’s really irritating for Arthur. He needs to be more enthused or something, it’s rather dampening to his mood. “Because killing innocent animals is just a relaxing thing to do.”
“You don’t like hunting because you’re bad at it.”
“I don’t like it because it’s ridiculous!” Oh dear, Arthur really should have seen this coming. Hunts are, for some extremely odd reason, big things that make his manservant blow up into rants. But, he’s got food in front of him, so at least he can try to drown the other man out.
“—Oh, and another thing!”
“Are you done? I hope you are because I’ve finished my breakfast so I’ve got nothing else to focus on to ignore your incessant chatter.”
“You weren’t listening to me? Of course you weren’t listening to me. You’re an absolute prat, you are.”
The two of them insult each other for a couple of moments more before Arthur stands, ready to leave. “Please take the plate down to the kitchen before polishing my armour, sharpening my sword, cleaning up my room and…hmm, I’ll let you know if I think of anything else.”
“I’ll take the plate down later. It makes more sense for me to do everything that’s in here first since I’ll be heading to the kitchens afterwards anyway.”
Arthur stares at him for a moment. “Just do as I say, Merlin!”
It’s Merlin’s turn to stare at Arthur now. “I’m not saying I won’t do it, just that I’ll do that later.”
“What if rats smell it and come into my chambers?”
“Firstly, that’s ridiculous. Secondly, there’s nothing even left on the plate, you practically licked it clean. Thirdly, that’s ridiculous.”
“You said that twice.”
“Yes, well it takes a while for things to be put into that small brain of yours.”
After a cup gets thrown at Merlin’s head and more insults fall between the two of them, Arthur starts to get really irritated. All he’s thinking is ‘how hard is it to follow such simple instructions? Why is the idiot making such a big deal out of this?’
“You look like you’re thinking. Please don’t hurt yourself, it’s hard to do things you’ve never done before.” And, oh, there goes another goblet flying at Merlin.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Merlin! Will you just do as you’re bloody told!” Arthur screams, distantly wondering if this whole thing’s made him late for the council meeting.
“Fine!” Merlin screams back, his arms thrown up into the air as his face grows rather red. “Why are you looking at me like that? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost, Arthur.”
When his King doesn’t answer him and instead only shifts his gaze to beside Merlin, he spins around, expecting some assassin of sorts to be in the room, having appeared with magic. Fortunately, there’s no one else here but the two of them. Unfortunately, for him, Merlin’s arms weren’t the only things he’d thrown to the air in his frustration.
The plate’s floating.
The plate is fucking floating.
Of all the things!
“Merlin… Merlin.”
“Yes…sire?”
“My plate is in the air.”
“It appears so, sire.”
There are many things tumbling about in Merlin’s head, but some of the main things consist of: ‘do something, you absolute twat!’ and ‘I’m going to die because of a plate’ and ‘hey, at least he’s not screaming at me’ and, finally, ‘why the hell is he not screaming at me?’ to name a few.
“Merlin, why is my plate in the air?”
“Because…because…well…because—”
“If you say ‘because’ one more time I’m going to walk out of here and forget that you or the floating plate exist.” Merlin thinks on it and wonders if he’d actually prefer that to anything else. “Merlin?”
“Yes?”
“Are you making the plate float?”
“...No?” Arthur raises his eyebrows at this. “Yes?”
“ Merlin.”
“Maybe?”
“Oh, dear god. Someone help me—help him.”
The two of them stand in silence for a moment, and now Arthur is positive that he’s late for the council meeting. It was about grains and such, though, so it’s not the worst thing in the world. Still, he can’t just not show up, so he walks towards the door, opens it up and begins speaking to the guards. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Merlin turns almost green, with his eyes wide and jolting from one place to another, as if he’s searching the room for exits.
He remembers that one time with the window and rope and decides that Merlin isn’t reckless enough to do that. At least, he’s pretty sure the man’s not.
Once he’s done telling the guards what he wants, he closes the door again and turns his attention back to his manservant.
“I thought you were telling them to come in and arrest me.”
“No, I was telling them to go and tell everyone in the meeting to begin without me seeing as I’m already late to it. No thanks to you.”
“But…you are going to arrest me, aren’t you?” Merlin asks, sounding upset that Arthur isn’t. Which, albeit, is stupid but so are a lot of things to do with his manservant and the brain he possesses, so Arthur just sighs and ignores it for now.
“No, I’m not.”
“How come?”
“Because, Merlin, I’d like you to explain first.”
Merlin’s having a heart attack. He’s sure of it. Or maybe an aneurysm. Why is he being so goddamn calm?
Obviously, this is far from how he’d assumed this whole ordeal would go, as previously mentioned. Merlin thought of panicked magic used to save a life or coming clean for a greater cause. What he did not think of, however, was accidental magic because he was irritated. And, really, not even! It was just banter between him and Arthur, like normal, but no, his magic just had to come out and ruin his life.
“Why are you being calm?”
“Sit down. Also, please remove the plate from the air.” Merlin does as he’s told—for once—and sit’s in the chair next to Arthur’s, who of which is sitting at the head of the table like normal.
“So, you’re a…”
“A sorcerer, yes.”
“I was going to say an idiot, but sure.”
Why is he being calm? Why?
“Are you going to kill me?” He doesn’t mean to ask the question, he really doesn’t, but currently he’s just revealed his magic and Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon and King of Camelot, is bloody calm.
He looks taken aback by his servant’s words, and an expression of hurt covers his face, if only for a moment. Then, “Just, please explain what the hell is going on? And, no, I am also not quite sure why I’m being so calm either.”
“Maybe you’re in shock. Gaius talks about that with patients of his all the time.”
“Ah, perhaps. Now, please…”
“Right, right.”
And so, Merlin explains everything. He tells the thoughts about how this was a ridiculous way to reveal his magic to start off because, yes it was but there’s nothing to do about it now. So, he explains from the start; his arrival in Camelot. Shortening some bits here and there, Merlin does well to be completely honest, though he fears he’s gone a little past explaining and perhaps into the territory of rambling, but Arthur’s saying nothing against it so he carries on.
He’s not sure how long he talks for, but by the end of it his throat is sore and he feels the urge to down a bath-sized jug of water. For a while Arthur says nothing and Merlin wonders if he’s still in shock and if Gaius might be needed. He would call for his mentor but his legs don’t appear to be working, rather unfortunately.
“So, you mean to tell me that you are the reason I’ve lived this long and have achieved so many things?” he finally asks.
“Well, of course you had something to do with it all as well, but I was there to help, yes.”
Arthur sighs and lets his head fall into his hands, his elbows resting on the table and Merlin doesn’t move, letting the man take as much time as he needs to process it all.
“Right. I’d like you to know that I will not be sentencing you to death, nor will I be arresting you. I…I can’t say I trust you right now, but if I put you in a cell I think it would make me feel worse than letting you carry on with your duties.”
Merlin lets out a breath. That was to be expected, he would have been so extremely shocked if Arthur still trusted him after it all. Of course he didn’t, he’s just found out his manservant’s been lying to him for all these years.
“For now, you will continue to be my manservant and work for Gaius, but I hope you understand that I cannot trust you. At least…not right now.”
“I understand completely, Arthur. I just want you to know, I’ve only ever used my magic to help you, to protect you.”
He sighs again, then looks Merlin in the eyes. “Stop, Merlin. Stop lying.”
“It’s not a lie!”
“I…I understand that you don’t want anything to happen to you, and so I’m making sure nothing will. But that doesn’t mean I appreciate you fabricating that giant lie of destiny and you being some powerful sorcerer. So, please, just drop it.”
Wait… what?
He…he thinks that all of my story is a lie? “No, Arthur, all of that is true!”
“Merlin!” His fists slam onto the table, and his manservant’s reeling back. “The more you try to convince me that you’ve been using magic for me the more mad I’m going to get. You are a sorcerer, you probably suck at it, and you most likely have used it for meaningless things. I am not going to kill you, you don’t need to make up some big story to try and convince me not to.”
He’s speechless. He’s…Merlin doesn’t even know what he is! Arthur thinks he’s making it all up which, granted, his story is vaguely insane but, still!
“Arthur—”
“I need to head down to the council meeting before it’s over completely. Once I’m done with that, I expect my chambers to be clean and my armour polished with my sword sharpened. Understood?”
“But—”
“Understood?”
“I…yes, sire. I understand.” And with that, Arthur takes his leave, the door closing behind him and letting the past couple of minutes finally sink into Merlin’s head.
“He didn’t believe me, Gaius! He didn’t believe me at all!”
“Well, son, you have to understand it from his point of view.”
“Oh, and what would that be?”
“That for years he’s known you as his clumsy, useless, foolishly brave manservant who has no manners or balance or knowledge in fighting.”
The two of them are in the physician’s quarters where Gaius makes some remedy for a patient of his. It’s the evening of that same day, and Merlin had gone through watching training to going on a hunt—which, for once, had no surprise bandits or assassins—with Arthur still not believing his story. The truth, Merlin might add.
“Okay, yes, sure. He thinks of me as his idiot servant who hates hunts, trips over air and can’t keep his mouth shut—”
“You are all those things.”
“Gaius!” Merlin does not whine, thank you. “As I was saying, he might think those things, but surely now that he’s seen that I have magic he understands that there is more to me than meets the eye?”
“Can I ask you a question before this continues?” Gaius asks, earning a nod from his ward. “Right, if I give you genuine answers, are you going to listen to them or do you just want to complain about Arthur?”
“...Uh.”
“I thought as much. Complain away, Merlin, I’ll give you my ear, I suppose. But, don’t expect me to add anything if you’re not going to take it in.”
“Fine, fine…So—”
Gaius sighs to himself. He’s thankful that his ward isn’t in a cell or on a pyre right now, but this whole thing with Arthur and him not believing the story is starting to irritate him. He’s the court physician, for crying out loud, not the court therapist. Though, this place probably needs someone with that title, given all the going-ons that occur. But, alas, Camelot has no official Court Therapist, so everyone comes to Gaius.
God, he’s too old for this.
About a week or so passes before the whole magic thing is brought up between the two of them again. They’re out on another hunt, because of course they are, and it’s currently getting rather dark. The two of them, plus the knights, are looking for a spot to start up a fire. Things had been strained between Merlin and Arthur, to the point where multiple of the knights have come up to both of them, on separate occasions though, to ask about it. Lancelot and Gwaine have come to Merlin while Leon’s gone to Arthur. Elyan and Percival have yet to ask one of them specifically, mostly because they thought it weren’t much their business. Besides, they got all the gossip from Gwaine anyway.
With Lance, Merlin explained everything, much like what had happened with Gaius. Meaning, a lot of rambling and ignoring helpful suggestions from the other party. As for Gwaine, he said it was just a small thing and wasn’t his business anyway, though unbeknownst to him, his friend explained this to the other knights and then gave his own thoughts on the matter which consisted of ‘a lover’s spat’ to put it plainly.
Anyway, once they find a clearing, they settle in and begin to start a fire. “Can you guys go fix up the horses,” Arthur says to all the knights.
“But Merlin’s doing that.”
“Yeah, no, I need to speak with him.” All of them left, surprisingly, but not to follow orders. Well, maybe for Leon and perhaps Lancelot, but for the rest of them they understood that this had to do with the lover’s spat (as they were now calling it) and wanted to give the two of them some privacy.
Once they’re gone, Merlin sits down opposite Arthur, the unlit campfire between them.
“So…”
“So.” He sighs, as if he’s not quite sure what he wants to say. Merlin doesn’t interrupt because he knows it’s about his magic and he doesn’t want to ruin anything. “Can you start a fire?”
“Oh, um, yeah? I’ve done it loads of times and you’ve seen—”
“No, you prat. I mean with…you know.” He wiggles his fingers as if saying the word will burn his tongue, but Merlin gets the jist of it.
“Ah, right. Um, yes. Yes, I can. Do you…want me to?” Arthur nods his head.
A fire is simple, it’s so simple and yet right now it means the world to Merlin. Still, with one quick glance to where the knights had walked off to, he puts his hand out and lets his eyes turn gold. The fire’s no different to any other fire, because why would it be? Though, he wonders if Arthur’s looking for anything like the sort.
Merlin catches his eyes and the way they study the flames. He’s holding his breath, afraid that if he breathes it’ll somehow kill the fire and whatever lingering feeling between the two of them will disperse.
The knights soon come back and Arthur’s yet to say anything, so Merlin begrudgingly leaves it be and makes a start on the food. They all sit and talk about all sorts of things, though it’s clear a certain two are less talkative than normal. Still, Gwaine does pretty well filling in all the gaps with the weird dreams he has—a sock made of apples…or maybe an apple made of socks?—and other peculiar stories he’s got tucked into his belt.
Finishing off the food, Merlin mutters that he’s going to go check on the horses and leaves before he can hear any of the responses. He does check on them, but then he stays in the forest after doing so. He’s not entirely sure what he’s meant to do, really. Merlin had imagined so many different ways of it all happening, but had never once thought about something even remotely similar to this. Perhaps that is his own fault, maybe he should have accounted for the fact that he’s quite the idiot.
Still, Arthur’s relatively fine and he’s not in any trouble himself, but the troubling feeling lingers. Then there’s of course the issue that his king doesn’t believe his tales of heroicness and saving of the day. He’s rather offended by the complete assumption that it’s all lies, he really is.
“Merlin?”
“Ah!” He spins around to face Arthur, who annoyingly snuck up on him while he’d been pondering about what his life has become. “Hello. Can I help you with anything, sire?”
“Stop calling me that, it’s weird.”
“I’m supposed to call you that. You get mad when I don’t.”
“No, I…look, it’s just weird. Alright?” Arthur shakes his head, as if Merlin’s somehow the one making no sense. He’s making perfect sense, thank you! Arthur’s the one doubling back in on himself with all his jibber-jabber.
“So, why’d you come over here?” See, he’s dropping the ‘sire’ so the prat’s got to be happy now.
“The fire. Your, um, well you know.”
“Again with the wiggling fingers. The word isn’t going to hurt you, Arthur.”
“I know! I know, I just don’t want the knights to overhear.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
Seriously, maybe it would have been better if Merlin was exiled or something, at least then he wouldn’t have to deal with this awkward limbo thing they’ve now got going on. Maybe doing the fire was a mistake.
“So…”
“Hmm? Oh! Yeah, so, the fire. I, well, um—” Dear god, Arthur Pendragon does not stutter, yet here he is. “Look, this whole thing is going to take a while for me to get used to, but if you want to start using magic when it’s just the two of us, I won’t mind.”
That was…unexpected. “Really? Are you sure?”
“Yes, well, now that I know all magic isn’t evil like my father told me, I should get used to it. Just, only when it’s the two of us, okay? I can’t have you getting found out by anyone else.”
Merlin’s ecstatic. Oh, this had rarely been a scenario he thought out, mostly because he’d always been too scared to get his own hopes up when Arthur forgiving him was such a vague, unachievable idea. And yet here they were.
“Oh, alright then.”
“Okay.” The two of them stood in the woods awkwardly, neither of them quite sure of what to do next.
“Does anyone else know?” Arthur abruptly asks.
Merlin wonders if it’d be right to tell him about Gaius. Maybe he’s already thinking about it, maybe he’s already suspecting Gaius of knowing. “Nothing’s going to happen to them?”
“No, no. Of course not. I’d just like to know. Really, I’d just like confirmation on Gaius.” Ah, so he is already thinking about that.
“He knows, yeah.”
“I thought so.” He pauses for a moment. Then, “Is there anyone else who knows about you?”
Lancelot. He should tell him, but Merlin’s worried. Gaius is one thing; the man used to perform magic and Arthur’s aware of that, not to mention the fact that he’s lived with the old man for many years. Lance, on the other hand, is Arthur’s knight. He’s a part of Arthur’s trusted people—not to say Gaius isn’t—but as far as the king is aware, Lancelot has never touched magic.
But, lying can’t be any better. It’d just be delaying the inevitable.
“Merlin? Sometime today, perhaps, you could answer me.”
“You have to promise me that nothing will happen to them.”
“I already did—”
“Yes, but you already suspected that Gaius knew. It’d be unlikely for him to be unaware of the fact that he’s been harbouring a sorcerer for years. This person, however, you might be more surprised.”
He sighs, hands on his hips and he’s flicking between his kingly stance and his just Arthur one. “Please, just tell me. I promise no harm’s going to come to them. Besides, it wasn’t their secret to tell, I suppose.”
Merlin takes a deep breath. The man’s only so far away from them, back with the rest of the knights. “It’s Lancelot.”
“Lancelot knows? He…for how long?”
“You remember when he first came to Camelot, right?” A nod. “Well, the reason he left after defeating the griffin was because he felt like he didn’t earn that right, because he saw me enchanted his spear. Gaius was right about it only being able to be killed by magic, so I did what I could.”
“I…is this a part of your tall tales again?”
“No, I swear! This is true. Not that anything else I told you isn’t true, because it is, and we should really try to talk about that at some point because you thinking I’m lying about it all is really not great and—”
“You’re rambling, Merlin.”
“Ask him, I’m not lying about me helping with the griffin.”
“Fine, I will.” And with that, the two of them head back to the knights, who of which are now in their bed rolls splayed out on the ground. “Lancelot?”
“Yes, sire?”
“May I speak with you for a moment?”
As Lance gets up to follow Arthur, he catches Merlin’s eye. He gives the knight a nod, hoping he’ll understand the message. He himself lies down, but he keeps his eyes open until footsteps are coming back. Once the two come back, Merlin risks a glance at them. Lance gives him a small smile, so he assumes it all went fine. As in: Arthur believes Merlin’s story and Lancelot is not in trouble whatsoever.
God, he really hopes he hasn’t just ruined every piece of trust the two had between them. He just couldn’t lie to Arthur again, not after he knows the rest.
“So, let me just get this straight, Arthur found out about your magic because you two were doing your usual bickering and your magic accidentally lifted his plate into the air for no reason?”
“Well when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”
“I mean no offence, Merlin, but it is stupid,” Lancelot replies as he sits on the table. They’d come back from the hunt that morning and then the knights had done some training. Arthur had gone a little harder on Lancelot, which is why he found himself in the physician’s chambers. Gaius was out, however, but Merlin knows the basics.
As he fixed up his friend, Lance explained what had happened that night when Arthur spoke to him. It was simple enough; the man had asked about the griffin, explained what Merlin’s version was, and he gave the truth. Merlin’s telling the truth, sire. My apologies for keeping it a secret from you, however I deemed it not something of mine to tell.
Arthur said he was forgiven, though getting his frustration out via swordfighting was definitely still his go to. After Lancelot was done explaining his side of it, Merlin began filling him in on the rest.
“That is not the point of this!”
“I feel like it should be.”
“Okay, goodbye. I’ve fixed you up so you can get the hell out of my room!” Merlin yells, quite miserably failing to hide the smile on his face.
“He’s fine with it? Seriously?”
“Apparently. Though, he doesn’t believe a word of my tales, even though they’re all true.”
“Well, you have to understand that from his perspective—”
Merlin wanted to roll his eyes backwards and just keep them there. “Yes, yes, I’ve already been told all of that my Gaius. I don’t need it from you as well.”
“Apologies, my friend. Well, I should be off, but keep me filled in on the situation.”
“I will. And, I’m sorry for training today. It’s my fault he’s mad at you.”
“No, it’s not. I’m fine, anyway.”
Lancelot leaves the room and Merlin’s left in the silence. He’s got a little while to spare, so he sits down and begins trying to think up tactics because he was getting sick of Arthur not believing him. Sure, his life stories are insane but they are true and he will make his king see sense. He has to, especially since Arthur’s half of the goddamn destiny.
He could call Kilgharrah, but that might be a bit too much.
Merlin does not whine, but he doesn’t not whine either as his head slams into the wood. Then, he remembers another scaly friend of his, only one far smaller, cuter, less metaphor-y and, well, far less annoying as well.
Aithusa.
“Where are we going? I have things to do, you know. Merlin? Merlin! Are you even listening to me?”
“Stop talking and follow me.”
“You seem to have forgotten, Merlin, that I am the one who gives orders and not you.”
It’s the next day and Merlin had decided to do his plan straight away, so no fear of backing out of it or whatever. Besides, Arthur had a mostly free day, and he knows this since he deals with the man’s schedule so actually, no he doesn’t have many things to do.
They soon arrive at the usual place where he meets up with Kilgharrah, only this time he won’t have to deal with riddles and an old lizard mocking him. He’ll have to deal with a baby harmlessly biting him—mostly harmless, anyway—but he’d prefer that one.
“Since you think I lied about everything I told you, I want to prove to you that I didn’t. Why you don’t believe me in the first place, I’m not sure, but you will after this.”
“I don’t believe any of it because it’s ridiculous!”
“Yeah, yeah. Now, don’t be frightened by what is about to happen,” Merlin says, earning a scoff from the man beside him.
“Merlin, I am a king. I do not get frightened—ah!”
He begins speaking in the Dragonlord tongue and has to really refrain from giggling at Arthur. The man pretends that he didn’t squeal (he definitely did) and finally registers what is going on. Or, at least, his understanding of it.
“You sound ill. And stupid. And…ill.” He doesn’t tell Arthur to shut up because he needs to concentrate, but he hopes his glare gets the message along well enough.
Once he’s done, he turns back to his king. “What the hell was that?”
“You’ll see.” Merlin’s gotten a whole lot more calm regarding his magic and all his secrets with Arthur, but he’s glad about it. Besides, this whole thing of his life not being believed as the truth is vaguely starting to get to him. It’s stupid that Arthur won’t accept that what he told the man is what actually happened. Maybe he just doesn’t want to acknowledge that his useless manservant has helped him so much over the years, but that shouldn’t at all take away from what Arthur has done himself. Still, Merlin would like just a little bit of recognition. Just a tad.
“Seriously, Merlin, what on earth are we doing here—” A loud roar cuts him off, and the very brave and fearless King of Camelot is stumbling backwards, falling onto his arse and then freezing in his spot on the ground.
“Arthur, meet Aithusa. Aithusa; Arthur” he introduces, letting the small, white dragon climb on him. She’s gnawing at his hair for a moment, a way of saying hello as she’s yet to develop her speech like Kilgharrah has. Then, she finally acknowledged the second man, not that he himself is all too pleased with that.
“What the f—”
“Please don’t swear in front of her, she’s only a baby still.”
Arthur is once again looking at Merin as if he’s gone mad, or perhaps has grown another head. Though, considering where Aithusa has currently placed herself on him, he technically does have another head right on top of his own.
“Believe me now?” he asks, no longer trying to hide the smile on his face. He beacons for Arthur to stand up. “She won’t hurt you, I promise. She’s a baby, and even if she did anything, she’ll listen to my commands.”
It takes a couple of minutes before Arthur even dares to go anywhere near Merlin and the…dragon. And no, he doesn’t appreciate that his manservant thinks that saying things like ‘she won’t bite’ or ‘I can control her’ makes him think that Arthur is any more interested in going near. Sure, this one is a whole lot smaller than the last one he met. And, he supposes that it not trying to kill everyone in his kingdom is a plus, but it’s still, you know, a dragon.
Eventually, however, he’s standing as side-by-side as he can be without panicking. The dragon’s still crawling over Merlin, from his arms to his shoulders to his head, but she’s staring at him. It’s terrifying. And interesting. But most terrifying.
“Aithusa, you said.”
“Yeah.”
“Pretty name.”
“I named her, actually.”
“Pretty stupid, I meant.”
Merlin rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “What happened to that other dragon being the last of its kind?”
“I told you about that, back in your chambers. Remember?”
“So you weren’t lying about secretly taking a dragon egg, lying to me about it, hatching the thing yourself and letting your magic name it?” He’s looking at Merlin with a stare he often has when his servant’s being weird. So, most of the time.
“I was not.” He wants to mention that he was telling the truth about all of it, but decided that he should focus on the dragon thing first.
“So, you’re the last living dragonlord?” A nod, and a step closer. Arthur, surprisingly, doesn’t back away with it, letting the distance between him and Aithusa—and by extension, Merlin—lessen. He gives his king another nod. “And…Balinor was your father?”
At this, Merlin looks away, not that Arthur really notices. No, he’s connected eyes with Aithusa, though Merlin’s certain it’s because the man fears what will happen if he looks away from it, if only for a second.
“It’s cute.”
“She, Arthur. But, yes, she is.”
They can talk about his father another time. Right now he’s more interested in his king and his dragon, and then letting the tall tales become a little less tall in Arthur’s mind.
Aithusa climbs to the end of Merlin’s arm, stretching her neck out to try and get closer to the new man she’s never met. A little reluctantly, he holds his hand out, not quite sure what else to do. The dragon sniffs it and, as if she could sense her master’s love for the man, immediately begins squealing about and trying to reach over. Arthur panics, but listens when Merlins says that she’s just happy to be meeting someone knew.
In the end, Arthur doesn’t hold Aithusa, but he does stroke her, let her lick his hand and, overall, falls just a little bit in love with the adorable thing.
“Fine, I believe you about this whole dragonlord thing,” he says as they walk back to the castle.
“Thank god! I told you, I wasn’t lying about any of it—”
“I still think you’re an idiot.”
Merlin stares at him for a moment. “But?”
“But nothing. I can clearly see that you are a dragonlord, so maybe those stories are true, but that doesn’t mean everything else is. Last I checked, Balinor was a dragonlord only, so how you’d have so much magic just wouldn’t make sense.”
“Magic doesn’t make sense! It—Arthur, get back here!”