"5 Times Arthur Suspected Merlin of Using Magic (And One Time he Knew)"

When Arthur comes into his room, the first thing he sees is a vase and cloth crash to the floor in front of him. The second is a very guilty and nervous-looking Merlin on the other side of the room, straightening his sheets. He takes a minute to compose himself. "Merlin," he says carefully. "Did I just see that vase suspended in midair?" The fear on his servant's face increases exponentially. "No, of course not, sire. I was just…" he pauses, then lights up. "I was just thinking that you really need to redecorate in here. All these vases are very unmanly."

"So you decided to shatter them first, before removing them," Arthur states, testing.

"I've been having a very stressful day," Merlin answers immediately, and Arthur is annoyed by the reproachful look that is thrown at him along with the response.

"Uh huh," he says. "Well, then after you've cleaned that up, polished my armor, shined my boots, and mucked out the stables, you can have the rest of the day off."

Merlin gives him a smile that's more than half grimace, and continues with his work. As Arthur flops onto his chair, he's startled to see what almost looks like relief on the other man's face as well.

They've been out hunting all day, with no sign of a weasel, let alone a deer. Plus, it's cold and rainy, and Arthur may have gotten them slightly lost, although he would never admit it. So when eight bandits come screaming out of the woods with no warning, he can't say he's actually surprised.

Merlin, of course, is dismounted almost instantaneously, although Arthur doesn't hold onto his horse for much longer. He manages to land without seriously injuring himself, and spares a quick glance at Merlin, who is struggling to free his sword from its sheath before turning to the nearest thief and thrusting.

The thugs are strong, but disorganized. Even so, Arthur doesn't have much hope for winning the battle, although he intends to fight to the end. He manages to dispatch three before turning again to check on his servant. Merlin is, surprisingly, still on his feet, although he has a nasty gash on the right side of his forehead. One of the men is lying at his feet unmoving, and he's desperately trying to fend another off with a branch that he must have picked up.

Arthur can't watch anymore because two more men have flanked him, and are threatening to skewer him. He gives himself up to the fight, backing up against a tree, and then exploding away from it, catching both men by surprise. He strikes them both mortal blows and then quickly deals with the one who's tried to sneak up behind him. Then he looks again towards Merlin, whose attacker is gaining the advantage. Arthur watches, helpless, as Merlin's branch is knocked from his hand, and the deadly sharp blade of the bandit's sword is pointed at his chest, too far to do anything to help.

He is still watching as the brigand suddenly trips on nothing, landing on a sharp stick that Arthur would swear hadn't been there a second ago. Merlin grins in relief, gasping with adrenaline, then notices the prince staring at him. The smile drains from his face.

"Merlin," says Arthur. "Did you just do that?"

Merlin shifts uncomfortably. "No, sire. I guess I just got lucky."

Arthur keeps his gaze on Merlin a moment longer, but his servant has plastered on his best innocent look, which makes him look rather like a puppy, and Arthur's mind scolds itself for even thinking that someone like that could be an evil sorcerer. He nods. "Let's go home," he says.

"I'll be gone for no more than ten minutes. Wait here, and don't do anything. Go back to Camelot if anything happens to me, and tell my father. Don't try to go in on your own."

Merlin nods, and settles further down behind the log that's currently all that's hiding them from the sorceress' cave. Arthur gives him one last look, and crawls off.

He sees everything that he needs to after just five minutes. There is just the one entrance to the cave, and no traps that he can detect. Of course there could be magical ones, but there's no way that he can protect himself or Merlin from those. Arthur swiftly returns to the log, only to find Merlin muttering to himself furtively.

"What are you doing?" he whispers angrily. "The witch might hear you."

Merlin nearly jumps in shock. "I, uh, was just giving myself a pep talk."

"Why?"

"In case I needed to go rescue you, you prat."

Arthur groans quietly. "You really would have, wouldn't you?"

Merlin nods. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He seems sincere. Arthur grimaces. "I feel so much safer," he sighes.

There had been reports of a creature with the body of a lion, a tail that was a snake, and a goat's head attacking the villages, so Arthur had ridden out with his men. Armed with Gaius' assertion that the beast was called a chimera and that it would probably be best to try to fight it from a distance with bows and arrows, he'd been confident that he would be able to slay it quickly with little mess. Of course, the reports had neglected to mention the fact that the goat's head was able to breath fire.

The arrows were disintegrated in midair by the heat of the chimera's fire. After watching two of his knights subsequently get roasted and another have a fit due to a bite from the tail, he orders his men back while he thinks frantically of a new plan. "Okay, Sir Leon, take five men and attack the tail. Sir Gareth, you and Sir Bors distract the head, while I will lead the rest of the men to attack it."

The knights nod their understanding, and disperse. Arthur turns to Merlin, who is crouched next to the downed knight, trying to make him comfortable in the absence of any herbs that might help. "Merlin, stay here. There's nothing you can do, and I'd rather not have you chopping someone's arm off." Merlin looks as if he's going to argue, or possibly come back with an insult, but then glances at the man writhing in pain on the ground and thinks better of it. Arthur reaches down to pat his shoulder (in a completely manly way), and then gets into position.

He gives the signal to charge, and rides in fiercely, giving in to the temptation to shout his wild defiance at the beast. The next thing he knows, he's lying on the ground, waking up to Merlin's worried face. Turning his head, he sees that all the rest of the knights are either unconscious or dead.

"Wha' happ'nd?" he mumbles, struggling to sit up. Merlin does his best to help, and Arthur ends up awkwardly braced against Merlin's side.

"The chimera knocked you off your horse, and you hit your head. It got the rest of the knights too."

"So where is it?"

"Um," is Merlin's answer. "Yes?" prompts Arthur.

"It…uh…saw a squirrel, and went chasing after it," Merlin stutters.

Arthur is in the wrong position to convey the look of incredulity that he'd been practicing, but Merlin seems to get the message anyway.

"Don't ask me," he says defensively. "I didn't do anything. How could I?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, and passes out again.

They're on what's left of the castle walls, gazing together at the magnificent sunset. Camelot has lost a lot of good men that day, and there's a lot of rebuilding to be done, but he's content at the moment knowing that it's safe. He takes a moment to consider the miracle storm that had so recently raged and given his army the cover that they'd needed to launch the surprise attack that had saved the city.

There's a sudden breeze, and petals from the trees below fly up gracefully, swirling in exquisite patterns before settling gently to the forest floor. Beside him, Merlin grins.

Arthur turns to take a good look at his servant. Merlin seems perfectly at ease, leaning against a fallen stone, his eyes glowing gold briefly before returning to their normal hue. Arthur pauses, and considers.

"Merlin, did your eyes just turn gold?" he asks.

Merlin shakes his head, still smiling happily. "It must have been a trick of the light, sire."

Arthur can't help catching Merlin's infectious joy, and both turn again to the beauty of the woods beneath them, all troubles forgotten.

It turns out that he'd picked a fight with the wrong man. Again. What had started out as just an ordinary tavern brawl had suddenly turned deadly when several of the participants had produced knives and turned as one on Arthur and Merlin. The prince merely shrugged mentally, and threw himself into the fight with renewed vigor. Now, though, they've been separated, and Merlin is behind the bar throwing jars of ale at the patrons while he attempts to fend them off with a chair.

Arthur swings his chair, feeling a satisfying crunch as a man falls, and then uses it to catch another's knife thrust. But then he sees, as if in slow motion, a blade flying through the air straight towards him. There's no time to move out of the way or try to block the dagger with his own weapon. It occurs to him that he's not going to die on the battlefield in a blaze of glory, but instead in a grimy tavern all because a stupid thickhead took offense to Arthur's accusation that he'd cheated at cards.

Arthur can't do anything but watch as the knife comes closer and closer. But then, inexplicably, its forward momentum completely ceases, and it falls straight down. Arthur looks around, confused, and sees Merlin with his hand outstretched. The prince meets eyes fading from gold to blue, and sees them widen in horror as their owner realizes what Arthur has just seen him do. But there's no chance to talk, as the fight continues as though nothing had happened.

Ultimately, they are able to overcome the drunkards, and stumble out into the night. Arthur keeps his sword out. He notices that Merlin stays a safe distance away from him, watching Arthur's every move carefully.

For a long time, Arthur doesn't say anything, but just pants, trying to marshal his thoughts. Now that he's seen it, it seems so obvious. There's no other way Merlin could have survived all those battles, let alone finished his chores on time. But what is he going to do about it?

"You're a sorcerer?" he asks finally, just to make sure. Merlin gives the barest of nods, and takes another step back. "And how many times have you used magic to save my life?"

The look of confusion on Merlin's face nearly makes Arthur laugh aloud. "You're not angry?" he questions, scared.

Arthur just looks at him. "You could have let me die in there, but you didn't. So how many times?"

"Too many to count," answers Merlin, and a hysterical laugh bursts out of him. "Lady Helen, Sophia, Nimueh, Myror. Do you know how frustrating it was never to get any credit?"

"Huh," replies Arthur. Merlin suddenly remembers his danger, and abruptly stops laughing.

"What are you going to do?" he asks warily.

Merlin has a cut on his cheek, and his clothes are filthy from the food and alcohol that were thrown everywhere. His hair is sticking up wildly, and his neckerchief has come undone and is dragging on the ground. He looks just as he has always looked, like Arthur's dorky manservant. The only thing that unsettles Arthur is the deep fear in his eyes, with the faintest glimmer of hope only discernable if you knew him as well as Arthur did.

Arthur stares for one more second at Merlin, and sheathes the sword. "Nothing."