A/N: Yep here's another one shot. (Yes, yes I do have a problem.) Yes, yes, I should be writing my other fics but... here you go instead! *runs and hides*

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. (Unfortunately. Because I don't own it, we have THAT miserable ending... *cries*)

Those strangely familiar blue eyes, looking at him reassuringly. Those cursed words, uttered condemnation. The damning flash of gold, corrupting that innocent blue. Those moments of an eternity of tense anticipation. Then finally, those gray eyes opened, and met his own.

"Father," he'd breathed in disbelieving joy. "Father."

The King had smiled, showing a brief display of emotion that the young prince had never been shown before.

"Arthur."

It was moments like these that he had treasured — moments where he was not his King, not his commander, and not his ruler. Moments where he was simply his father. In that brief, treasured moment, all of the King's pride, joy, surety, and all of his goodness was shown.

If only it had lasted.

The furrowed brow, the wide eyes. Labored breathing. One thing after another as the Prince's entire world crumbled to pieces, turning into a whirlwind of confusion, hurt, and anger, spinning faster and faster and faster—

The King was dead.

Arthur sat alone at his table. What could I have done differently?

In the moment, he had attacked the sorcerer, hurt beyond comprehension. He had been beyond understanding. He'd refused to hear out the sorcerer's pleas.

Hours later, he tried to find reason. He tried to find something that put the blame where it was expected. Not betrayal. Not another one. Arthur didn't think he could take any more.

But there was simply no explanation. The King was dead, because Arthur had thought himself better, and had gone after the Dark Arts as a method to heal his father. Instead, it had killed him. The sorcerer, Magic, had killed his father, and it was Arthur who had sought it out in the first place.

How could I have been so stupid? So arrogant? I should have been more wise, discerning. I should have known, I should have known, I should have known.

Arthur clenched his jaw, coming to his conclusion. Father was right. Magic is at fault for this. And I am at fault for seeking it out.

As he studied the opposite wall, the doors to his chamber opened, and in walked a familiar tall, thin figure. Surprisingly, the man remained almost completely still, only moving to close the door behind him.

"I am so sorry."

Arthur didn't move. He wasn't sure he could even if he'd wanted to. It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fau—

"I sh—" the man began, before cutting himself off as he stepped closer. He appeared to gather his wits, and began again. "I shou—" he stopped again. Finally, he raised his head, his expression clear. "I wish that there was something I could have done," he said genuinely, the sincerness coloring his tone like a sunset.

Arthur finally stirred, swallowing. "Merlin, no one but me is to blame for this."

A spark of… something appeared in Merlin's shadowed, blue eyes. "You aren't to blame." His head lowered slightly. "This isn't your fault."

"I'm entirely to blame." Arthur fought back the tears, even though his tense jaw quivered under the strain. "My father spent twenty years fighting magic. To think I knew better. I was so arrogant. That arrogance cost my father his life."

"You were only doing what you thought was right. I am sure that that old sorcerer meant no harm."

Arthur met Merlin's gaze, eyes dead.

"Perhaps the spell went wrong."

Arthur lowered his head. Why can't things ever be in black and white? Why can't I know that all magic is evil, or that all magic is good? Why can't it be simple?

Magic is evil. Father is dead. Mother is dead. Lancelot is dead. Morgana is lost, corrupted by magic. There is no way it can be anything but the darkest evil there is.

"Uther was dying," Merlin pressed on. "Maybe nothing could have saved him."

Arthur released a low breath, then raised his head. "We'll never know." His gaze soon followed. "All I know for sure is that I lost both my parents to magic."

He didn't notice Merlin stiffen, or the smallest flash of pain dance across his elven features.

"It is pure evil."

Merlin stopped breathing. His blue eyes began to fill with tears. But Arthur didn't notice. All he saw was every mistake he'd ever made, every wrongdoing magic had caused.

"I'll never lose sight of that again."

Merlin started breathing again.

Arthur finally began to actually notice his servant. His disheveled appearance, his stiff position. He was about to ask what was wrong before a soft knock came through the door.

His gaze latched onto the sound, before his eyes fell to the table again, the meaning sinking in.

This was it. He had to go and see his father. The shell of a man who had been strong, capable, determined. A man who had been his king. His leader. His father. After this, King Uther Pendragon would be no more than a story—a legend. History. After this, Arthur would take the entire kingdom upon his shoulders, and his shoulders alone.

After this, he could no longer pretend that his father wasn't dead.

Arthur stood, straightening his shoulders as thunder softly rumbled outside his window. Gathering his wits, he stepped away from the table, and exited the room.

It wasn't until much later that he realized his best friend had not followed.

The large doors opened, and Arthur Pendragon stepped inside. As the room was sealed off once more, his eyes landed on his father. Pale. Cold. Dead… Gone.

He inhaled sharply, and stopped right by the doors, attempting to once again gather his wits about him. He… he had to say goodbye. Properly. He couldn't just walk away knowing that his last memory of his father was the moment the life left his eyes. He couldn't let it end like that. He… he had to be strong. He had to—

"We must leave him to mourn," came the familiar, warm voice, muffled by the wooden doors.

Gaius, Arthur realized. He must be talking to Merlin.

He furrowed his brow as he found that no response came to Gaius. That's not like Merlin. He's never quiet… unless something is wrong. Very wrong.

"Merlin?"

"This is all my fault."

Arthur straightened, refraining from barging out there right this second to knock some sense into the idiot. How could Merlin possibly think it was his own fault? He'd done nothing! But Arthur… it was Arthur who sought out the sorcerer. Who sought out magic. It was he who was to blame, and no one else. Honestly, he should go out there right now and—

"I killed him."

He froze. He… what? Merlin, how could you think that? You didn't do anything! It was the sorcerer who—

Those eyes. Those eyes. Those familiar, comforting, blue eyes. No one had eyes like that. No one but the sorcerer… and… and… Merlin.

Arthur stumbled backwards. The old sorcerer… was Merlin. His best friend, the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world had lied. He'd betrayed him. He'd killed his father. What kind of a sick, twisted man did that?! Came into someone's life, and teased and joked and bantered and then murdered their only parent left?!

No… not again. Arthur sank to the floor. Not another betrayal. I've already lost so many, I… I can't lose Merlin too.

But he knew it was too late. Merlin had betrayed him the moment he had started practicing magic. If they had ever been friends in the first place. Was that all it ever was? A lie, a trick? All those random spouts of wisdom, moments of loyalty, countless hours spent teasing like he was the brother the prince had never been able to have… was anything real?

"You did not kill Uther. Morgana did."

Arthur lifted tear-stained eyes from his palms. Morgana? But, she wasn't there. What could she have done? Was Merlin telling the truth? Did the spell go wrong because Morgana interfered?

"Uther's spirit died when she broke his heart. We must look to the future. Uther's death will allow Arthur's progression to the throne. We must hope it brings peace and stability to the land."

"Magic will still be outlawed," Merlin's quiet voice finally came. "I've turned Arthur against it forever."

Arthur furrowed his brow. He'd never heard his servant — his best friend — sound so heartbroken. He sounded guilty, like he was beating himself up inside. Like he was sorrowful, repentant.

The golden-haired prince slowly began to piece the puzzle together. Merlin, the old sorcerer, had tried to heal his father, and had tried to show Arthur another side of magic. But Morgana had somehow… interfered, and so Uther had died instead. And in spite of Gaius' words, Merlin still believed he was the one at fault. He still blamed himself for what he'd done. He hadn't wanted Uther to die, someone who would have killed him the moment he knew what he was. In spite of everything Arthur had said—

Oh, Goddess. What Arthur had said.

It is pure evil.

Those four words echoed in his skull and heart, and finally unlocked his friend's reaction. The young man had almost choked. And… Arthur could have sworn he'd been about to cry.

"He'll never know who I really am."

Arthur stopped breathing.

Merlin's words. There wasn't a hint of unsurity in his tone. His words weren't a question, they weren't an observation. They weren't even a simple statement.

It was a promise.

Arthur had heard enough oaths being sworn to know the tone a man takes when one is made. He knew what Merlin meant.

Before, the young man must have been waiting for the right moment to tell him the truth. He'd wanted to tell him. Of course he hadn't made himself known at first, for that was no less than a death sentence. No, he was waiting for the right moment. He'd been waiting for the day where he could be honest.

And now, he had sworn that that day would never come.

"That time will come, I'm sure of it," Gaius attempted to reassure the servant.

Arthur didn't need to be outside to see Merlin's resolute face. The lack of response was answer enough. The man wasn't going back on his word. Nothing would change his mind, not even Gaius.

"Arthur will be under even more pressure now that he's king. He will need you more than ever."

All the little spouts of wisdom made sense now. Oh, the disguise of an idiot was a clever one. No doubt that had helped him out of more than even he knew.

There's no way Merlin's a sorcerer.

Idiot indeed. Those spouts of wisdom were the true him, shining through. Perhaps the bantering as well but… Did Arthur really even know him?

He'd met Hunith, Merlin's mother. Did she know about his magic? Did she too have it? When he had visited Ealdor, there had been no father. Was he dead? Had he left them? Did he even know he had a son?

Merlin had had one friend… Will. Did he have any others? What else was back in Ealdor that Arthur had never bothered to think about? Had he found love? If he had, who was she? What did she look like? How did she win his heart?

The more questions that appeared in Arthur's head, the more his heart fell.

He was my best friend, Arthur realized. And I never knew him at all.

"There's nothing more to be done. Let's go have some supper."

Arthur's head dropped, and he rose to turn away. Of course they were leaving him. That was what they were supposed to do anyway. That was proper. He shouldn't expect anything else from a stranger he'd thought was his friend.

I've turned Arthur against it forever, Merlin had said.

No, Merlin, you did nothing, Arthur realized, tears flowing freely down his face.

Everything he'd ever said, everything he knew had ever hurt Merlin came rushing back. Merlin was all he'd had left, and he'd lost him. It seemed as though Arthur was cursed to lose everyone he ever cared for. Even the one person who had been there through every other person's betrayal, death, or disappearance, was gone. The one person who had been there, he had pushed away forever through his own blindness and hatred.

I've turned you against me forever.

He did not even bother to listen for Merlin's response.

Arthur stood in front of the heavy oak doors, lost in thought.

How was he supposed to face his coronation? He'd already failed everyone close to him. How was he supposed to lead an entire kingdom when he couldn't even protect those he cared for most?

Swallowing thickly, he pushed open the doors, allowing the light of dawn to shine through.

He stopped short when he saw what was in front of him.

Lying against the steps, head turned away, was the very person that had fueled his misery the night before. The reason he believed he was alone, and would forever be abandoned.

Or at least, he'd thought so.

Merlin. Merlin was right there, lying against the steps.

"Merlin," he began softly, unsure of what his once-friend would do.

Merlin slowly turned his head around, meeting Arthur's eyes. And suddenly, he was greeted with an unfamiliar, cold emptiness. There were no words of wisdom. No cheerful grin. No playful quip to incite their famous banter. The cold stabbed Arthur in his gravely wounded heart, and made him wonder why Merlin was even willing to look at him.

"It's a new day." Arthur said simply, warmly. Hoping that the rare kindness and warmth he showed would grant sunlight to the dark sky of Merlin's eyes.

Merlin glanced behind Arthur, to the sun shining in his face, as if only just realizing the fact his master had stated. And something flickered in his cold gaze. Some recognition. Some warmth.

But not enough. The servant stood, his countenance still as the night as he met Arthur's gaze.

Then it hit him. Though Merlin was cold, and distant, even broken, he was still there. By his side. Just as he'd promised all those years ago. I'm happy to be your servant. 'Til the day I die.

Merlin may have thought Arthur had forgotten those words, but they'd stuck with him. It was that moment when he realized how much Merlin meant to him. What a true friend he had somehow managed to gain.

And even after hurting Merlin so much that he'd convinced himself that he'd never see his best friend's face again, Arthur still found Merlin sitting there on the floor, in the exact same clothes as the day before, his dark eyes lacking the gleam of rest, dulled by a restless night.

"You been here all night?" Arthur asked, trying to keep the complete shock and unworthy relief out of his voice. For why would Merlin still be there for someone who had proved again and again undeserving of his unfailing loyalty, kindness, and patience? Perhaps the prince would have once said honesty, but it was no longer true. Besides, Arthur didn't feel as though he had the right to complain about that. He'd given Merlin no reason to ever come clean. All he'd ever done was push him away again and again and again and again—

"I didn't want you to feel that you were alone."

Arthur appraised Merlin, unable to keep the absolute shock out of his countenance, though he somehow managed to disguise most of it. After all he'd said. After all he'd done. After proclaiming that he was evil, surely he would have left.

But he hadn't.

He had stayed there, all night, in spite of everything he'd implied or thrown, or cutting words he'd said. Because he didn't want Arthur to feel alone.

Somehow, Merlin still cared. After all of that, everything he'd said and done, Merlin's loyalty had not wavered. Merlin, the absolute girl, clumsy buffoon, complete idiot, and unwaveringly loyal man, had stayed. Because he didn't want Arthur to feel alone.

Emotion overwhelmed the prince, and he wanted to say something. Express that gratitude, and understanding that he now felt. But at that moment in time, he could only think of one thing to say. He wished he could say more, that he could express his apologies, ask— no, beg for his forgiveness. But there was only one thing he could manage to say.

"You are a loyal friend, Merlin."

Something flickered in his old friend's gaze again, and the prince turned to close the doors to his father's resting place. When he faced Merlin again, he was still changed. He was still hurt. His promise was still there. But there was warmth. There was kindness. There was light.

"You must be hungry."

A small smile spread across Merlin's face. "Starving."

He matched his friend's expression. "Me too. Come on. You can make us some breakfast."

Yes, the promise was there. Merlin was not ready to tell Arthur of his magic. So many years of lies could not have made honesty easy. And Arthur was fine with that. He had faith that Merlin would tell him, one day. Once he had proved himself to be worthy of that loyalty. Once he was worthy of the love of the people. Worthy of the crown.

Once he was worthy of everything that was Merlin.

And so, he would wait. It was not his place to make Merlin reveal such secrets. Merlin would tell him in his own due time. But for now, he would wait. Wait for the day when he was worthy of the man at his side. A sorcerer, a manservant.

His best friend.

Years Later…

"I'm a sorcerer," Merlin said, tears falling down his face as he choked the words out. "I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you."

Arthur exhaled, in spite of the pain in his side, holding back tears of relief. The day had come. He had finally proved himself. He was finally worthy of all he now knew his best friend to be. The last dragonlord. Wise advisor of the Once and Future King. Emrys, the most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth.

Merlin.

And so instead of denial, or hatred, Arthur simply smiled, and said. "I know."

Merlin looked up at him in surprise.

Arthur's smile grew, and became more meaningful. With only his eyes, and six words, he managed to profess his undying gratitude and loyalty to the man who saved his life, made him into the king he was, and never left his side.

"You are a loyal friend, Merlin."

A/N: Done and done! Just like with my other one shot, Web of Lies, I am willing to continue this if enough people want me to. So let me know!

Koala789 out!