The Truth About Dolma

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"Merlin? Don't you ever knock?" Arthur greeted Merlin sleepily.

"I'm sorry." He replied. Arthur shook his head.

"It doesn't matter." A heavy silence stretched over them as they both waited for the other to speak.

"Did you want something Merlin?" Merlin closed the door nervously and tentatively sat on the edge of the bed. Arthur sat up and faced his servant. "Merlin?" He prompted.

"Arthur... There's something I have to talk to you about..."

"Go on..."

Merlin barely paused before answering. If he hesitated even for a second, he'd regret ever saying anything. He let the words stumble from his mouth.

"Arthur, remember at the lake?"

"The lake where Gwen died?" His voice was stiff.

"That's the one," Merlin continued in a softer tone. "Well, you remember Dolma, the Sorceress?"

"Of course. How could I forget someone with a face like that?"

Merlin smiled. "She wasn't really Dolma the sorceress. There's no such person. In fact "Dolma" wasn't even a she," he paused for a moment to let Arthur take in the information. ""Dolma" was me. I have magic. I'm a sorcerer."

He lowered his head, suddenly ashamed that he had kept the truth from Arthur for so long.

"I know."

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