A/N Hey guys! This is a little plot bunny that just hopped into my head. It's cute, Merthur yay, One-shot, and a Reveal Fic, and I hope you'll like it.

Gwaine was where he always was. You guessed it.

The tavern.

Merlin had attempted to rescue him from the ale, because Gwaine was already running up a huge bill, and a knight's wages only go so far. Plus, they were teaching the new recruits tomorrow, and 'Princess' (Or Queen, now) was not going to be pleased if Gwaine had a hangover. Gwaine was practiced enough in the art of alcoholism not to usually get hangovers, but tonight was a big night.

Gwaine's dog's half-birthday. Well, half-adoption day, but Gwaine was determined to enjoy all the ale and mead for his dog Maxwell, and to do so would come with a massive hangover: one even Gwaine could not handle, which was saying something. And Gaius' hangover medicine really only goes so far.

So, back to Merlin. He was attempting (key word: attempt) to get Gwaine not to spend all the money he had and not to get so drunk he wouldn't be able to stand the next day, but to no avail. So Merlin bitterly walked out of the bar, rubbing his forehead. Gwaine had tried to hug him, but had only achieved knocking his tankard against Merlin's forehead, which Merlin decided was quite enough.

He moved into the back alleyway, leaning against the wall and sighing. Sometimes Gwaine was exhausting. Well, not really sometimes... all the time. Just as he uncrossed his arms and was about to head off the castle to get some rest, he suddenly froze up.

His arms and legs would not budge, try as he might, and it was obviously magic. How else would he be paralyzed like this?

Soon, the magic turned him around to face a cloaked figure lurking in the shadows. He soon was brought into the moonlight, though his face was not revealed. All that could be seen was two golden orbs, burning through the shadows and darkness. His hand was outstretched towards Merlin.

He brought Merlin's immobile body ever closer as he also walked to him until they were about two feet apart. His voice was gravelly and deep. The sorcerer growled, "Emrys. How nice it is to see you."

Merlin could only blink.

"I see that you haven't told your pet King what his 'pathetic' manservant can do. Now, we can't have that, can we? I'm afraid that perhaps you should give up your innocent character, Emrys." The man's hand clenched, and Merlin, in that small time in which the sorcerer lost control of his emotions, tried to move, but the moment was so small and fleeting that it simply looked like a flinch.

"Let's see how much your beloved King likes you when he learns your secret."

The sorcerer raised both hands to chest height and started to chant in the language of the Old Religion. "Cierr æt éow sóþ ansíen.." When he was done, he turned quickly and a gust of wind soon came and whisked him away into the night.

Merlin collapsed to the ground as his body started to tingle, and then sting, and then burn like it was on fire. For a second, he cracked open one eye, in which he could see golden light radiating from every piece of his body. He let out a pained, strangled yell, but it would not be heard in the alleyway of the loud, raucous tavern. Anyone nearby was accustomed to hearing yells and shouts from there.

Soon, the pain faded, although a burning sensation could be felt behind his eyes. He staggered to his feet and set off for the castle again, hoping to avoid being seen.

Arthur was mad.

Livid, in fact. Today was the day that he would be teaching the new knights and overseeing their training, and he expected no less than the best from everyone.

Gwaine had an unimaginably terrible hangover. It was a wonder that he had even rolled out of bed that morning, let alone get dressed and attend a practice. And now he was setting a bad example for the younger knights, as well! A knight should not be getting drunk the day before a big training session.

But Arthur was not in good shape, either. Merlin had not shown up that morning to wake him up, or give him breakfast, or pick out his clothes, or dress him, which meant that there was a sleepy, hungry, cold, and very, very late King that day. To say that he was grumpy was an understatement.

Nevertheless, the training session went by quickly, and Arthur soon went up to his chambers and awaited lunch. Needless to say, there was no Merlin arriving with lunch. Instead, a random maidservant timidly knocked on Arthur's door before coming in, set down his lunch tray, and hurried away from him at a surprisingly high speed.

Arthur was not happy then, either. He shoveled in his lunch and headed up to Merlin's chambers, where he was expecting to see Merlin still asleep, or maybe having a hangover from possibly joining Gwaine last night at the tavern? Knowing the idiot, that was probably what he had done.

Arthur entered Gaius' chambers. Gaius was currently away, caring for the carpenter who had fallen ill last night. So Arthur strode through the chambers to Merlin's room in the back, where he tried to barge in before realizing that there was a chair pushed up hastily against the door. Arthur took on an exasperated expression.

"Merlin. What have you done this time, broken one of Mary's favorite pots? You really think she would follow you up here, you girl?" There was no response, but from peering through the cracks in the door, Arthur could see Merlin sitting on the bed with his head in his hands and his back turned to the entrance.

"Merlin." Arthur said again, feeling a little concerned.

It could barely be heard, but a dejected "Don't come in." came from the figure on the bed.

"What? Accidentally broke your favorite hairbrush? Rip a dress?" Arthur teased, hoping to get a chuckle out of Merlin or at least get him to turn his head.

Merlin muttered again, "It's not funny, Arthur. Do not come in."

Arthur decided to push all the banter aside for the moment; it didn't seem like Merlin was in the mood. "Seriously, Merlin. What's wrong?" Merlin didn't turn or move.

"A sorcerer cursed me." Arthur held in a gasp.

"Well, what was the curse?" Merlin sighed.

"He - he made my physical form take my true form." Arthur furrowed his brow.

"What?"

"Basically, I look like what my soul is. I have taken the form of my personality." Many things of what Merlin could look like ran through Arthur's head: maybe he looked disfigured? Like a child? A girl? Or maybe he had the face of a cat, or a tail, or maybe bear paws, or something strange like that...

Arthur sighed as well. "Well, let me in, then."

What he heard was much colder and much angrier than he thought the response would be. "No. Do not look at me."

Arthur shook his head, and started banging against the door. Merlin lifted his head, but didn't turn. His voice shook with anger and - was that fear? "Don't come in, Arthur!" He also sounded a little hysterical.

Arthur laughed and said, "No, I'm coming in. It can't be that bad, can it?"

Merlin made a bitter scowl that Arthur could not see, but he gave in.

"Fine. But please, please, please do not judge me for what you see."

Arthur was a bit bewildered. What could he possibly see that could make Arthur judge him? Merlin was simple, care-free, whatever he looked like couldn't be that bad, could it?

Merlin approached the door, his head down, and shifted the chair to this side before going back to his bed and facing the wall again.

Arthur opened the door and entered the room, looking at Merlin and sitting down. From what he could see, Merlin looked just as he always did. Arthur took the chair beside his bed.

Arthur said, "Merlin, I don't understand. You look just as you always do, what's for me to judge?" Merlin turned his face to him, eyes closed. He looked the same, still.

"Why are your eyes clo-" But Arthur never finished the sentence, because Merlin's eyes snapped open.

Merlin's eyes burned the brightest gold possible. They were ever-moving, with small swirls of bronze and fiery golden waves crashing and swimming around in his eyes. They shined brighter and purer than anything Arthur had ever seen, and he recognized them.

"You're - you're a - a sorcerer!" Arthur shot up, knocking the small wooden chair over. "You have magic!" Merlin looked momentarily terrified.

"Arthur, I - I've never used it for wrong. I've only used it for you, Arthur. Only for you." Arthur said nothing, but his mouth hung open in shock.

"You - you lied to me. Have you been lying to me ever since we've met?" Arthur's tone was cold, harsh, hurt, and screamed How could you do this to me? I thought we were friends!

Merlin's eyes watered, and he looked down as one golden tear made its way down his cheek. "I - I've had it since I was born, Sire. I could use magic before I could speak. I am, uh, the most powerful warlock of all time." He looked up at Arthur and gave a sheepish smile.

Arthur was scandalized. "You - you - leave." Merlin's mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but another bright golden tear fell, and he started to leave his own bedroom.

He turned back to Arthur. "You know, I thought you cared. I thought it wouldn't matter to you that I used magic because I couldn't help it. I thought it wouldn't matter to you because I've only ever used it for you, and for Camelot, and for my friends. I thought it wouldn't matter to you because I thought.. I thought that what we had was stronger than that." And he once again started to walk towards the door.

Arthur was stricken. Perhaps... perhaps magic wasn't evil. Perhaps magic did not corrupt. Perhaps it was the men who wielded it for evil who were the ones who were evil, and not the magic itself. And perhaps what Merlin said was true.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's wrist. "No, I'm sorry. What we have is stronger than that. Maybe... maybe magic isn't so bad after all." Merlin gave a weak smile as his golden eyes almost roared in approval. The golden light increased tenfold, and the tears that he gave were swirling with light and golden dust.

Arthur's grip loosened, and slipped down to Merlin's hand. Merlin watched as Arthur laced his fingers between Merlin's own, and then he looked up with a smile. "What we have... it's strong." Merlin nodded a bit as Arthur leaned in for a kiss.