The King and His Sorcerer

Part XVIII: Secrets

Merlin didn’t like keeping his magic a secret from Arthur. In fact, he hated it. But his fear of rejection was greater than his hate of keeping secrets, so he still hadn’t told Arthur that he was a sorcerer. Even though he desperately wanted to. He wanted there to be nothing between them – he wanted them to bare every crevice of their souls to each other. There was no point, otherwise.

“He used magic against a knight of Camelot. He must be executed,” Arthur informed Sir Leon.

It was comments like these that fanned the flame of fear in Merlin’s heart. How could he tell Arthur that he was magic? That he was one of the people Arthur’s father had spent nearly his whole life hunting down? That he was one of the people who had caused so much pain in Arthur’s life?

‘I only ever use it for you,’ Merlin would say. ‘Only for you.’

He hoped the king would believe him. He hoped that when the day came, Merlin could bare his soul and his true self to the king of Camelot, and have him say that everything was okay. That he loved Merlin with or without magic. But Merlin knew that this dream was most likely too good to be true.

Merlin was sitting with Arthur at the dining table in his chambers when magic came up in the conversation. They ate dinner together like this almost every night. And almost every night Merlin detested the moment when he was required to leave his sire’s chambers. He wondered if there would be a night where he wouldn’t have to. Perhaps one day.

“The man I sentenced today … he swore his innocence,” Arthur mused, swirling the wine in his cup.

Merlin bit his lip. He was always so unsure of what to say in moments like these. Was he to support Arthur’s decision and perhaps reinforce his hatred of magic, or was he supposed to sympathise with magic users and perhaps arouse suspicion in the king? Most of the time, Merlin stayed silent. As he did now. He would rather Arthur make a decision on magic on his own – with no influence on Merlin’s behalf.

“I sometimes wonder, Merlin,” Arthur began. “If I am doing right by Camelot in continuing my father’s hatred of magic.”

Merlin swallowed loudly, choking on his sip of water.

Arthur looked at him, concern clouding his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Coughing, Merlin nodded at the king, waving a hand for him to continue. Arthur shook his head.

“I just don’t know, Merlin. It’s all so confusing. Magic users have caused much pain in the heart of Camelot, and yet so have many other completely normal men. Should we not judge all men the same, regardless of whether or not they possess power of a magical kind? Are not all men a mix of good and evil? Surely there are magical people out there with hearts as good as yours.”

Merlin’s heart raced at that last comment. Was now the right moment? Was now the moment to tell the man he loved that he had been hiding something from him since the day they met?

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed.

“Yes?”

“Do you truly believe my heart is good?” he whispered, words hardly carrying themselves to Arthur’s ears.

“Of course I do, you idiot. You’re one of the bravest men I know, and there is not anything you wouldn’t do for those you love.”

“And if there was a magic user with a heart like mine?”

“Then maybe I would be forced to rethink the way I look at magic,” the king replied solemnly.

His sorcerer regarded him carefully. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Why are you asking such questions?”

“Because I have magic.”

What have I done? Merlin thought to himself. Out of all the scenarios he had imagined … of all the times and places …the secret had been revealed now.

Arthur regarded him sceptically. “Merlin, are you playing some kind of joke on me? Because I’m afraid I don’t find it particularly funny.”

Merlin shook his head. “This is no joke, my lord.”

Arthur’s brows creased into a frown. “You haven’t addressed me in that manner in quite a while.”

“I know.”

“Why now?”

Merlin rose from his seat at the table, no longer able to sit still. “Because I don’t know if it will be the same now.”

“The same?” Merlin heard from behind him. He was too afraid to face Arthur.

“If you will still … want me.”

Merlin felt a strong arm snake around his waist and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“I will always want you, Merlin,” Arthur breathed in his ear. The sensation sent a shiver up Merlin’s spine.

Without turning, the young warlock asked if that was true.

“Why would I say it if it were not true? Merlin, your idiocy astounds me on a constant basis.”

Merlin tried to extract himself from Arthur’s arm, but the man was roughly twice his size and the feat was impossible.

“I have magic, Arthur. Did you not hear me? Magic. After everything … how can you still want me – knowing that? Knowing I am like the people Uther hunted; knowing that I have hidden this from you for so long?”

Merlin felt Arthur’s lips brush against his neck. “I would have done the same. If our roles were switched. I would have kept it from you.”

“But … you do not mind?”

“Merlin, I was just saying that every man should be treated equally. Plain men have done equally as horrifying things to Camelot as those with magic. There must come a time for my father’s hatred to wane. And that begins with you. You and me.”

“I love you,” Merlin mumbled, lifting Arthur’s hand to his lips.

“I know,” his king replied.

That night, Merlin left Arthur’s chambers much later than usual.