Somehow, he had thought it would all come out at once. Secret would follow secret like a pulled thread unraveling a sock.
Merlin had thought a lot of things, once upon a time. He had thought, for instance, that there were a great many lines he would not, under any circumstances, cross.
There were a few, still. Not as many as he would have liked.
He knew, someday, Arthur would know everything. The idea that Arthur might catch him in a fight and find out was one of the more common scenarios to go through his head.
He had not thought that Arthur might find him fighting an enemy sorcerer when his magic was pretty much exhausted after fighting off way too many serpent-bear-lion-things and that he would be down to a dagger and himself. He had not thought he would be found grappling in the dirt with an enemy assassin with his eyes fierce and savage and on fire with rage instead of magic. He had not thought he would be seen plunging the dagger down, again and again and again. He had not thought he would be seen wrestling as he did so, his teeth tearing at the other man's ear. He had not thought he would stand up and back away from the corpse and wipe the blood away from his mouth with a hand only shaking a little only to turn and see Arthur and realizing in the same moment that his shirt was still soaked with blood.
He hadn't thought a lot of things when he left Ealdor.
The blood on the front of his tunic had cooled and stiffened. He sat straight backed in the chair he had been led to and looked straight ahead.
"He was trying to kill you," he said. His voice sounded strange. Distant.
"I know," Arthur said quietly. "He was a sorcerer. I saw."
Merlin flinched but plowed on. "Then why am I in trouble?"
In trouble. Such an odd phrase. It sounded childish. Absurd.
Arthur looked at him for a long time. Merlin couldn't interpret the look for once. That troubled him.
"You're not. I just have a few questions, that's all."
Pull the thread, unravel the secrets . . . He shrugged. "All right."
"Where did you learn to fight like that."
"Just picked it up, I suppose." He grinned weakly.
Arthur looked away. Merlin flicked his tongue up. Ah. He still had blood on his teeth. That would rather negate the intended effect.
"Why didn't you tell someone? Get help?" he demanded. He was angry. He was always happiest when he could find some way to be angry instead of whatever other emotion wanted to bubble up.
Merlin considered it. Help might have been possible this time. Swords could have taken care of the monsters at least. "Just got used to doing it on my own, I suppose."
"How many times has this happened?"
Merlin bounced a little in his seat, rubbing his neck. "Dunno. Lost count."
Arthur just looked at him, something horrified and lost in his eyes.
"Can I go now?" Merlin finally said. "This shirt's getting a little uncomfortable."
"Of course," Arthur said automatically.
Merlin hesitated. He didn't want to leave Arthur looking like that. A joke would work, but he was too tired. None were coming to mind. He glanced at the window and judged the position of the sun. "I'll have your supper ready in an hour or so, if that's all right."
Arthur shook himself. "Don't worry about it. Take the night off."
"It's fine," Merlin reassured him. "I didn't get hurt or anything. This is nothing, I've had plenty worse."
He realized too late that he should have gone along with it, should have rejoiced in the time off. It was off and Arthur had noticed.
At least, that was the only reason he could think of for why Arthur's expression only grew more worried and lost.
