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Summary
Merlin made up his mind.
He was going to tell Arthur.
No beating around the bush, no excuses, he was just going to tell him. No time seemed right, so he would just have to get it out before he lost his nerve for the umpteenth time.
(And, if Arthur did have a problem with it, it wouldn’t be the first time Merlin had knocked him out.)
Marching to Arthur’s chambers, he rehearsed what he was going to say.
“Arthur,” he said, throwing the door open and scaring the tar out of the prince, and then Arthur again because this is not a one-Arthur situation. “I have magic.”
