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"I'm not a god!" Merlin says, very triumphantly, and he thrusts his hand up right in front of Arthur's face—and why in the name of Albion does the absolute idiot have a bloodied bandage wrapped all 'round his palm, oh, for the love of Camelot, what did the man do to himself now? And, hang on, how has the idiot even found the time to hurt himself? It's early! It's not a single second past sunrise! It's literally first thing in the damn morning! And Merlin has already landed himself in a heap of trouble! Why is Arthur not surprised! God, why does he even let Merlin out of the castle without a guard, or, hell, maybe a whole legion of guards, because God knows Merlin could slip just one guard way too easily, and also, he still really, really needs to get himself a sword, and learn how to use it, and no, Merlin, magic does not mean you're invincible, remember that time you swooned like a maiden—
"Look! See!" Merlin shouts, like Arthur can just not look, like Arthur can just not see, even with Merlin's knuckles nearly halfway up his nostrils and, also, like early is just the perfect time to shout like a lunatic. "See! Not a god! I un-godded myself!"
Arthur smacks Merlin's hand out of his face. "Great," he says, flatly, and he pushes himself up in his bed. "Now where the hell is my breakfast?"
"Oh," Merlin huffs, and his dark brow scrunches up in a scowl, "typical. Just! Typical! I finally un-god myself! And you don't even care! Of course not! You know, I could die tomorrow—actually, literally die, and you'd probably just go to my grave and be all like, Merlin, where are my extra sausages—"
"Un-god yourself?" Arthur echoes, maybe a little bit harshly. "You were never a god to begin with!"
"I know!" Oh, there, that just pulls Merlin right back out of his sulk again, doesn't it? He absolutely beams at Arthur, brighter than the golden light of the rising sun through the open window at his back. "And! I finally proved it!" He holds up his hand again.
"Let me guess," Arthur clambers off the bed, "you tripped and fell into the bog, and the druids finally came to their senses and realized you're a complete idiot who can't even walk right—"
"No!" But the tips of Merlin's ears turn bright red. "And I only tripped and fell into the bog once! And! It could have happened to anybody! There were lots of really tricky rocks and roots and things—!"
"Yes, and I stepped around the 'really tricky rocks and roots and things'. Fancy that." Arthur flicks open the wardrobe, and his mouth edges up in a grin at the sound of Merlin's humiliated sputters behind him. "And I don't even have magic to help—"
"You got lucky!"
"No, Merlin," Arthur plucks out his favorite red tunic, and turns back to the idiot, "I just learned how to put one foot in front of the other. Perhaps you'll pick it up for yourself one day."
"All right, look!" Merlin says, very loudly, and his cheeks have flushed absolutely scarlet by now. "Look, I really did un-god myself! No more cult!"
"What?" All right, now, Arthur's listening. Kind of a first, since, he usually tries his hardest to not listen to Merlin, actually. "The one in the Darkling Woods?"
"Yes!" Merlin beams again. "See, because, well, they have all sorts of stories and things about their gods—it's actually sort of entertaining, really—"
"Merlin."
"—right, yes, yep, heard it as I said it," Merlin nods, and plunges on, without a breath, "but, you know, in all the stories, the gods—" his smile gets even wider, if it even can, "—don't bleed!" He waves his bandaged hand again.
Oh, God. Arthur can see where this is going, a few hundred thousand miles away, and he shuts his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Don't tell me."
"So I just slashed my hand until I bled!"
Yeah. Right. There it is. Right there.
"Merlin," Arthur says, "you are such an idiot."
"So!" Merlin says, very happily, like he hasn't even heard Arthur. "I am, officially, an un-god! I did it! I un-godded myself!"
And here comes that once-a-day Merlin headache. Yeah. Right at his temple. Where it always starts. "You were never 'a god' to begin with!"
"Now," Merlin bounces a little, on his heels, "I just have to handle the other cults!"
Oh. Oh, God, no, Arthur was wrong, before, because now, here, this, is his once-a-day Merlin headache.
"The other cults?"