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"I've been thinking."
Merlin's attention was almost entirely absorbed by a particularly tough stain he was attempting to remove from the table in Arthur's chambers. He'd been hoping Arthur would go out and train with his knights or something so he could just throw a quick spell at it, but the prince had been moping around his chambers all morning, staring pensively out of windows and sighing and so on. Even Merlin's usual prattle hadn't provoked so much as a half-hearted attempt at an insult or a hurled boot, so eventually Merlin had fallen silent and focused on his work, a very unusual occurrence. He didn't normally take cleaning quite so seriously, but this damn stain had raised the kind of stubborn determination he normally saved for people who were trying to kill Arthur and he scrubbed at it ferociously. Arthur's sudden announcement, breaking a two hour silence, only half registered in his mind, and he automatically began to form some snarky response like it's about time or don't hurt yourself.
Except.
Some part of him, the part that was always paying attention to Arthur, noticed something a little strange in Arthur's tone. It wasn't his I'm about to do something stupid and brave tone, or his languishing under the pressure of being the sole heir to the throne of Camelot tone, or even his I'm having a rare moment of sincerity and wisdom tone. It was something new, something different and serious, that sent a tremor down Merlin's spine for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on.
So instead of making a silly joke, he just asked quietly, "What have you been thinking about?" He raised his eyes to see that Arthur was watching him, his face very grave.
"I've been thinking…" Arthur broke off, shrugged and gave a little laugh, but to Merlin it sounded forced. "Well, it's probably nothing, really. I've just been thinking about that wizard - the one who turned out to be guilty instead of Gwen. A few things about the whole incident don't really make any sense."
"Oh?" Merlin tried to make himself sound nonchalant, went back to his scrubbing in the hope that it would disguise his trembling hands.
"Okay, well firstly," Arthur rose and paced towards the window, "isn't it a bit convenient that he happened to get caught just when Gwen was about to be executed? He just showed up, confessed to everything and disappeared again."
"Well you did catch him in the act." Merlin pointed out, trying not to sound as though he cared very much. "I suppose he had to confess at that point."
"Right. But he was clearly very powerful. I mean he just vanished right in the middle of the castle. Why wait so long to do that? Why go through the whole process of confessing and being imprisoned and almost being burned if he was always capable of escaping? It's like he wanted to prove that Gwen was innocent."
Merlin shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on the table.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
"I suppose," Arthur pressed on, "maybe he just developed a conscience and didn't want someone else to be blamed for his crime."
Merlin breathed a tiny sigh of relief.
"But then there's the nature of his crime. Love potions. Except that Gwen and I weren't under the influence of love potions. That was just a stupid theory my father came up with. So why would some random, very powerful sorcerer, pretend to be guilty of a crime that no one actually committed?"
Merlin shrugged again. "Sorcerers are strange people," he said, "Who can never really know what's going on inside their heads?"
"Well you of all people should know."
Merlin froze. Slowly, he straightened up and faced Arthur. Arthur's eyes were fixed on his, serious and stern and soft and … actually he wasn't sure. Normally he could read Arthur's feelings all over his face, but today they were clouded in mystery, hidden behind that strange, grave expression that Merlin had never seen before.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked quietly.
Arthur took a few steps towards him. Merlin couldn't move.
"I told you." Arthur's voice was gentle now. "Your eyes. I would recognise your eyes anywhere. No matter how old and crazy the rest of you looked."
They stared at each other in silence. Merlin couldn't speak, could barely even think. Of all the ways he'd imagined revealing his secret, this was nothing like any of them. A dramatic moment of truth, maybe, during some high-stakes, life-or-death battle. Or a deliberate moment of trust, everything laid out in carefully chosen, well-practiced words. But suddenly, unexpectedly, it was out. And somehow Merlin had never counted on Arthur just … figuring it out.
A thousand words sprang to his tongue. Apologies, explanations, promises, assurances. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I do trust you I promise I was just scared you would reject me or hate me and I promise I'm not dangerous or evil and I won't ever hurt you it was all for you Arthur always for you I would do anything for you.
But he didn't say any of that. Instead, all that came out was a question, a single, cowardly question.
"Are you going to tell your father?"
Another moment of silence.
Then Arthur laughed. Like mist dissolving in the sun, all that strange seriousness vanished from his face and he was just Arthur again. "Well I knew you were stupid, Merlin, but what kind of question is that?" he drawled condescendingly. With a dramatic sigh, collapsed into a chair. "I'm starving, Merlin. Are you going to keep cleaning that same spot on the table for another hour or are you actually going to do something useful like get me my lunch?"
And that was that.