A/N: Warning for OOCness, but to be frank, it's my fanfic and I'll do what I want to. Also, I don't own this, nor do I have any money. Please don't sue me. Or kill me. Or anything… ^^' Oh, and for your future reference… this will be slash. And it starts between Season 1 Episode 7-8, though I'm gonna throw my own stuff around so it'll just be a big, hot mess once I'm done with it. Canon to 7.5, alright? 'Kay. I'm done.

Hit it!

Uther couldn't help but wonder how foolish his son was. How had the boy not seen it? It was clear as day, for everyone to see, and yet his son, his idiotic son, had not.

Uther couldn't help but want to strangle his son, sometimes.

He remembered being ill, so terribly ill, unable to move his body to respond to his son and daughter's pleads for him to wake up, but he heard them.

He had heard everything; including Merlin, Arthur's clumsy, endearing, ethereally beautiful manservant using magic to save his life.

Somehow, despite his mind screaming at him to burn the boy on a pyre, he couldn't bring himself to persecute such an obviously pure soul that had done nothing more, or less, rather, than save his life.

He gingerly stepped into Gaius' chambers, peeking his head round the door to make sure the physician was absent before continuing his silent path up the stairs to what he knew led to Merlin's room, and arrived at the door just in time to see Merlin place a staff, with a glowing blue gem that matched the boy's eyes, under a loose floorboard, followed by a book wrapped in cloth. He saw the manservant replace the wooden board and sigh heavily, before heaving himself up and towards his bed.

"Merlin." Uther called as he knocked twice on the door.

"C-come in! Sire!" Merlin frantically bowed, lowering his head in subservience rarely seen from the boy and even that could not hide the slight trembling in his hands.

"Please, Merlin. In this room, consider us equals, yes?" Uther raised a hand to silence the boy's wide-eyed, stammered arguments. "No, Merlin, for now I need you to listen to me, okay?" when the boy had nodded, Uther made him sit on the edge of the bed before kneeling before the former farmer.

"M-my lord…" he exhaled shakily, hands trembling as he lifted them to try and push Uther back to his feet. Uther simply lifted his hands and caught the small, pale and thin ones in his own. "'Tis not… seemly…"

"I believe I owe you my life, Merlin." Uther interrupted the boy, and of course the deceptively brilliant youth caught on immediately as his eyes widened and his breathing sped up to almost twice the speed it had been. "Shh…" Uther hushed him. "Listen?"

When Merlin had nodded again, tearfully this time and something about that tore at Uther's heart, he continued.

"When I was ill, while I was unable to move my body in any way, I was consciously aware of what was happening around me at the time. Therefore, I am aware that you have magic, but," he hurried to add, sensing the impending panic attack, "I am also aware of how you saved my life with it."

"S-Sire… I…" Merlin's eyes were wide and as deep as Lake Avalon as they gazed at him through a film of tears that had started to spill over.

"Please, it's Uther." He reprimanded gently, needing the boy to understand that he didn't mean him any harm.

"U-Uther, I… I'm so sorry, my lord – Uther, I… I'm so sorry." Merlin sobbed, lifting the back of one hand, sleeve covering it, to shield his eyes and tears from the King's gaze.

"Please, Merlin, do not fear me. I am simply here to know… why?" Merlin's head shot up so quickly the King momentarily feared for his neck but relaxed when the youth showed no signs of pain.

"Why?" Merlin's voice was small and uncomprehending. "Why… what?"

"Why did you choose to learn magic? And why did you come to Camelot, why haven't you killed us yet? Why didn't you let us die?" he would have continued, but the sudden rage in Merlin's expression left his voice to taper off in shock.

"You think I chose this? This life?! If you can even call it that?! Constantly living in fear of being discovered, betrayed, feared and hated by the people I love and hold dear. I was born like this! I had no choice! I could use magic before I could speak! It's a part of me, and the last time I tried to pretend it wasn't it ate away at me from the inside out! Do you think, that if I had a choice," suddenly, Merlin's was no longer shouting at him, but rather he had slumped in defeat, tears filling his voice again. "Do you think, that if I had a choice to get rid of it, I wouldn't? I would do anything to be normal, Uther…" the King's name escaped his lips in a hopeless whisper.

"If you're going to kill me, I would personally rather beheading. Burning alive is rather painful and drawn out, far more mess, too. Do you know how hard it is to get the plaza clean after each of your 'demonstrations'?" the word was sneered venomously. "It's awful, watching you call me a monster, murdering my people, staring down at us like cockroaches. You're a murderer! You're a monster!" Merlin's voice rose to a scream and he threw himself bodily at Uther, fists flying in an attempt to hit anything he can as he knocked the man onto the floor on his back.

"Do you have any," – thump – "idea how hard," – slap – "it is to spend every day," – crash – "in the presence of a man who would kill," – bash – "you without a second fucking thought," – another slap to the face – "just because of something you were born with?! I never asked for this!" he roared, fists raining down on Uther's incredibly, cruelly firm chest and the only sight that it was having any kind of effect was the soft grunting that came with the occasionally well aimed blow. "I'm scared! I don't want to die! I… I don't want to die… I'm only 15… please. You can't, you can't kill me! My mummy, she'd cry…" Merlin's hits were weakening until he simply had his clenched fists resting on the King's chest as tears fell onto the red shirt, clouding his vision. "Please… I'm so scared! I don't want to be a monster…"

He collapsed onto Uther's chest, sobbing like his heart had been ripped from his chest and Uther could feel his own breaking for the boy as he cried himself out, wrapping his strong arms around the worryingly thin waist and lifting the boy with alarming ease, settling him onto the bed and frowning in disapproval at the sight of the ratty, threadbare blanket that served the pale youth as bedding, pulling off his own, leather jacket with a fur lining and laying it over the deeply sleeping boy, pulling the blanket over him as well and simply letting him be.

This was a conversation they could continue tomorrow.