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Chapter Text

Arthur was, to say the least, not a gentle person. He had never really been given the chance to be if he was being honest with himself. As a boy, he had played rough and he’d never grown out of it. In fact, he was encouraged in his brutality, training his knights and defending his kingdom from all sorts of evils. His hands were not nimble and delicate. They were broad and calloused, made to grip a sword. When he spoke, his words were rousing and inspiring, not soft and soothing. He tried occasionally, for words of comfort and compassion but they never came out right, or at least, he wasn’t comfortable saying them. No, Arthur had resigned himself long ago to the notion that he was meant for a harsher kind of lifestyle.

That being said, he knew his own strength. Merlin always accused him of hitting him too hard or pushing him too forcefully. That was because Merlin was a giant baby when it came to friendly horseplay. Arthur never put his full weight behind it. He never left a mark.

A fact that he had to remind himself of every time Merlin came into his rooms with a new injury. He knew that his own abuses were not the cause of the purpling bruises on his servant’s cheek one week or his split lip the next. It angered him to see him in such a state but it angered him even further when Merlin tried to lie about how they had happened. He was a terrible liar.

So it came as no surprise that when Merlin showed up with the beginnings of a black eye blossoming under his skin, Arthur was concerned.

“What did you get yourself into, Merlin”

His servant grinned sheepishly as he set down his bucket of water near the door. “I assume you’re inquiring about the state of my face, sire.” He started clearing up odds and ends of the floor, a quill that had fallen to the floor, a curtain he had failed to tie up earlier. 

Arthur set down his scroll and leaned back in his chair. He’d been reading harvest reports for the last half an hour and he needed a bit of a reprieve. Whatever Merlin was about to say would no doubt give him the small distraction he needed. 

“No, I was talking about the state of your muddy boots.”

Merlin looked at him in surprise. 

“Of course, I’m talking about your face, you idiot. What the hell happened?”

Merlin shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said as he took his bucket to the far corner and knelt down to begin scrubbing at the floor. 

“I don’t believe half the things you tell me anyway.”

Merlin paused, his entire body stiffening before he resumed the practiced rhythm of the brush against the polished stone. Arthur groaned internally. He’d said the wrong thing again. He hadn’t meant to offend the man. He’d just been joking around. Of course, he trusted his servant. Merlin had proven time and time again that he could be depended on for most any task when stakes were high. He should have known not to imply his distrust in him. If Merlin valued anything it was loyalty. 

Merlin kept scrubbing at the floors. 

“Well?” Arthur asked after a while, trying to keep his voice light. “Please tell this magnificent tale of how you received this mighty battle wound.”

Merlin paused and wiped a hand across his brow. “If you must know, I, um.” He looked around the room as if searching for something. His eyes landed on something behind him. “Well, as it turned out, Gaius slammed a door in my face.”

Arthur let out a little guffaw, first at the mental image of the old man obliterating Merlin’s face with a door, and secondly at Merlin’s confidence that he would believe that story. Arthur hazarded a glance behind him at where he thought Merlin had focused earlier. His wardrobe door was slightly ajar. Arthur rolled his eyes. This was pathetic. Even for Merlin’s standards. He’d have to try harder if he wanted Arthur to believe any of his stories.

He decided to play along. He wanted to see how long it would take for the other man to break. 

“I’m not sure Gaius has the strength for something like that,” he said casually.

Merlin grinned and went back to work, satisfied in his deception. “You’d be surprised, sire. You’ve clearly never seen him fight his way through an army to get the first go at the bathwater.”

Arthur’s nose wrinkled at the thought. He watched as Merlin stood and took the bucket to another section of stone. He was facing Arthur now. He could better see the man’s injury; a dark circle well contained in the hollow of his eye socket. 

“Well, in any case,” Arthur said, “I can’t remember a door ever giving anyone a black eye to the likes of what you’ve got there, Merlin.”

“Hmm, weird.” Merlin scrubbed harder. 

“In fact, I dare say it’s almost unbelievable.”

Merlin’s head shot up, eyebrows coming together. Arthur tilted his head to the right with a smirk.

“Are you trying to imply something?” asked Merlin.

“Perhaps,” said Arthur, rising from his seat. He stalked toward his servant. “Perhaps I find it hard to believe that even a fool such as you could find yourself in such an unfortunate situation.”

“Are you casting doubt on my honorable character, sire?” Merlin said humorously, but there was a nervous edge to it. 

Arthur stopped a foot in front of him. “Maybe I am.”

Merlin stopped his scrubbing. “Well, I - you know,” he spluttered, eyes darting away from his own. “Ah, you know what. I forgot to mention, it was the door handle that hit me.”

Oh, this was too easy, Arthur thought as he raised his eyebrows. 

“The door handle hit you.”

Merlin hesitated, perhaps already realizing his mistake. “Yes.”

“That’s very interesting, Merlin.” Arthur strode casually over to his chamber doors. “Oh, but now it makes sense.” He stopped short of the threshold. “I can clearly see that this door handle is right at eye level. ”

Merlin swallowed. His eyes drifted toward the ceiling as if trying to recollect something. “Well, ha, the funny thing is -”

“Oh, please do tell,” said Arthur strolling back to his position in front of his servant. 

“- I was actually cleaning the floors at the time.”

“Merlin, I know you are lying. Just tell me what happened. I promise I won’t laugh.”

Merlin ducked his head and resumed his task with renewed vigor. “I’m not lying.”

Arthur sighed. “Merlin, stand up.”

The servant’s shoulders slumped but he stood without protest. He looked down at the floor. 

“I want you to look me in the eyes and swear to me that what you’re saying is true.”

Merlin raised his gaze. This close he could see the individual colors around his eye. He could even pick out the pinpricks of red in the cloud of dark purples and dirty yellows. He hated seeing those colors on his friend’s skin. He wanted to wipe them away. Without thinking, he lifted his hand to do just that when Merlin flinched. 

Arthur recoiled and stepped back. Damn it. What was he thinking? He should have known better. Merlin couldn’t expect any gentleness from a person like him. Especially him. Arthur swallowed. He didn’t know what came over him anyway. He felt his face grow red.

“Arthur?”

“Come up with a better lie next time, will you?” Arthur snapped. “If you’re going to lie to my face at least make it entertaining.”

“Arthur, I’m-”

“Actually, next time, don’t even bother. I don’t care.” He stalked over to his seat and ripped open a report. He was angry. Why was he so angry? He stared at the report but could not focus enough to actually read. 

He looked back at Merlin. His servant hadn’t moved. 

“What are you doing? I don’t pay you to just stand there.”

Merlin set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “I’ll finish this when you’ve calmed down.” His voice was cold and pitying. He walked to the door and opened it slowly. He turned back toward him. “Send for me when you’re ready.”

Arthur was too stunned to protest. He watched Merlin close the door behind him. He groaned and let his head fall into his hands. Damn it. What was wrong with him?

Chapter Text

Merlin looked absolutely dead on his feet. His shoulders slumped forward, his eyes looked bruised and if he stood in one place too long he started swaying. Arthur thought that he had better mention the fact to his servant. 

“I’m fine,” Merlin insisted, forcing his eyes wider as if they weren’t closed a second ago. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Arthur said.

Merlin shook his head slowly, his eyelids drooping again. “Nope.”

Arthur raised his eyebrow at him. “Merlin, you’ve been leaning on that broom for the past ten minutes. I actually thought you started snoring at one point.”

Merlin shook his head more vigorously as if to clear the lethargy from himself. “Fine, I’ll admit. I am a little tired.” He resumed sweeping his chamber floors weakly.

“Yes, I think that is quite obvious,” said Arthur, taking up a quill to sign an invitation for the upcoming tournament. “How much is Gaius having you work?”

Merlin looked confused for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching together. Then he said, “Oh. Yes. Right. Gaius. Lots. Lots of work. All the time.” 

Arthur shook his head. “What could he possibly have you do that is more important than you getting enough rest to work for me?”

Merlin scowled. “Listen, Arthur,” he slurred like a drunk man. “I came here to work for Gaius, not you.” He pointed at him accusingly but swayed as he did so he really pointed at the window next to him. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Good lord. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I. Am. Fiiiiiiiiiine,” insisted Merlin, elongating the last word dramatically. He started sweeping more vigorously to prove his point. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“What’s keeping you up all night?”

Merlin raised his eyebrows flirtatiously. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Arthur blinked. Merlin was clearly delirious.

“Merlin.”

The servant waved his hand absently. “He wants me to… um…” He stopped sweeping again as if his mind could only handle one thing at a time in this state. “... collect herbs,” he finally finished.

“He wants you to collect herbs in the middle of the night?”

Merlin shrugged. “They’re… moon herbs.”

Arthur sighed. He was getting a little tired of being lied to all the time. Though he supposed he was not an expert on such things. He could give Merlin the benefit of the doubt.

“Moon herbs,” Arthur said slowly. 

“Yeah,” Merlin said.

“Can’t he get someone else to do this job?” Arthur asked. “Perhaps someone with fewer duties.”

Merlin’s mouth hung open as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m… I’m the physician’s assistant, though.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows at the young man. 

“Wow. How are you still standing?”

Merlin smiled, his eyes falling closed. “I’ve been awake for three days,” he whispered secretively. 

“Alright,” Arthur sighed. This had gone on long enough. He stood from his chair and walked over to where Merlin had begun to sweep with his eyes closed. “Merlin.” 

His servant blinked slowly up at him. His eyes were so unfocused he didn’t think he was actually seeing anything. Arthur pried the broom gently from his hands. 

“How about you go and take a really long nap,” Arthur said gently.

Merlin shook his head petulantly, clarity seeping back into his gaze. “I can finish.”

“Merlin, come on.”

“No.” Merlin grabbed the broom back. “I can. I can. I said I would so I will.” Merlin looked suddenly very upset. His eyes became vacant again like he was seeing something that wasn’t actually in front of him. “I promised.”

Merlin swallowed forcefully. Arthur thought he saw tears in his eyes. 

“I promised,” Merlin said again. “He asked me to help him so I will. I promised him I would help.” His voice broke as he gripped the broom handle tightly. 

Arthur studied him carefully. He’d obviously struck a nerve in his sleep-deprived servant and Arthur had a strong feeling that the man Merlin was referring to was not himself. Merlin rubbed at his eyes. 

“I promised him.”

Arthur felt that he was invading on something private and that Merlin would be very upset that Arthur had seen him like this when he finally regained some clarity. He reached out to try and comfort the man but Merlin shrugged him off, the fabric of the man’s shirt slipping through his fingers. 

Merlin walked over to the table where he had left the dustpan. He kept muttering about promises. Arthur looked at the dustpile at his feet. What was going on with him? Arthur knew that he was missing a lot of details but he didn’t think he was going to get any straight answers out of Merlin when he was in this state. 

A thunk and curse broke through his silent musings. He looked up to see his servant holding his head and muttering viciously at the corner of the table. 

Arthur rushed over to him. “I told you you were going to hurt yourself.” Merlin was always clumsy but his sleepiness only appeared to make it worse. 

Merlin continued to hold his forehead and scowl at the table. “I just bent down to get the dustpan…”

“Alright, come on,” Arthur took him about the shoulders and guided him over to his bed. “Just lie down before you do any more damage.” Merlin crumbled onto the blankets, still holding his head.  Arthur sat beside him. “Let me see what you’ve done to yourself.”

Merlin lifted his hand and Arthur saw the strip of red leaking out of his skin. Arthur exhaled. “Well it’s not that deep, but you’ll have a nice goose egg on your already giant head before long.”

 Arthur rose to get a damp cloth to wipe the blood away. When he returned Merlin had closed his eyes. He opened them a sliver when Arthur pressed the cloth onto his wound. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Arthur’s lips twitched. “You just need some sleep.”

Merlin chewed his lip. A number of emotions swam over his features as Arthur finished his meager attempts at healing. 

“I am sorry, though. I didn’t mean to…” He inhaled a shaky breath. A tear leaked out of his eye. His voice wavered. “I promised him that I would help.” 

Merlin looked absolutely anguished. And Arthur had no idea how to help him. He didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. But he couldn’t stand to see the look on his face any longer. He reached out and ran his hand through Merlin’s dark hair.

He closed his eyes again. 

“Just get some sleep, okay?” Arthur urged quietly. Sleep seemed like the only logical answer right now. He moved his fingers through his hair slowly until he saw all the tension leave his friend’s face and his breathing steadied. Satisfied, Arthur rose and closed the curtains. He’d give him the rest of the day at least. Maybe then Merlin would be able to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him. 

Until them, he’d let him rest.  

Chapter Text

“Where is he?” Arthur growled. Gaius stood in the small gap between the door and the wall. Usually, Gaius would let him enter the physician’s quarters without a moment’s hesitation. Today did not appear to be one of those days. Arthur could just see the multicolored bottles lining the shelves over the old man’s head. Unfortunately, he saw no sign of his fool of a servant, who had been missing for six days straight. As soon as he had received word that Merlin had returned, Arthur had rushed to see him, which at the moment, was proving difficult.

“Gaius, let me in.”

“Sire, Merlin is not well,” the physician said placatingly. “It would be best if -”

Arthur slammed his fist on the doorframe. “Gaius, I command that you let me pass!”

The old man sighed. “Very well. Just please be mindful of his condition. Don’t go riling him up.” Gaius opened the door fully and stepped aside. 

Arthur’s eyes immediately found his servant laying on a little cot next to the fireplace. He strode over and stopped beside his sleeping form.

“What in the hell happened to him?” he whispered. 

The man was as pale as a ghost. The only exception was the purple circles under his eyes, glaring up at him as if he hadn’t slept in a week.  His dark hair lay dull and flat upon his forehead. Perhaps most worrisome was how thin he looked. Merlin had always been lanky, his days of servitude lending him a sort of wiry appearance, but now he appeared almost emaciated. Even through the blanket, Arthur could tell the man had lost weight. His skin looked stretched, the hollows of his cheeks more defined. 

“He is suffering from severe malnutrition,” said Gaius from behind him.

Arthur whipped around. “How did this happen? What did he say?”

Gaius hobbled over to where a chair was set out and sat down with a shrug. “He didn’t say much of anything. One of the guardsmen found him outside the inner city walls, unconscious.”

Arthur’s gaze was dragged back to his sleeping servant.

“I cleaned him up a bit. Tried to get some broth into his stomach. But besides some incoherent muttering, I’ve not a clue what happened.”

Arthur clenched his fists. Clearly, something had happened. And he suspected someone was to blame. But who?

He began pacing. How could he have allowed this to happen? Merlin had been missing for days, and he was apparently within his reach the entire time. He should have sent out more search parties, should have asked more questions. Merlin’s sickly form loomed in his vision and he forced himself to look away. Blood boiled beneath his skin. He needed to do something. He needed to act, punish the person responsible. He had to fix whatever this was. 

Gaius cleared his throat. “With all due respect, sire, there’s no use muttering to yourself about something you have no knowledge of.” 

Arthur grunted dismissively in response. The old man didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand the responsibility he had to keep the people he - Arthur stopped himself. The responsibility of keeping his people safe and whole. 

“Arthur,” Gaius said softly. Arthur stopped moving and tried to focus his eyes on the other man. “These past few days have been very trying for all of us. You should get some rest as well.”

Arthur’s mouth tasted sour. Rest. He’d been resting this entire time. Rest was the opposite of what he needed now. He resumed his pacing, nearly knocking a bowl off the tabletop in his fervor. 

“Arthur, please,” Gaius tried again. “You’re agitated. You should return once you’ve regained some peace-”

“Peace?!” Arthur shouted, a glare sizzling over the physician. He whirled a pointed finger at the man lying in the cot. “You think he got any peace?”

Merlin stirred in his blankets. Both men turned towards the noise with bated breath. 

“Arthur?” Merlin groaned. 

Gaius rose from his chair as Arthur rushed to his friend’s side. Merlin blinked slowly, trying to focus his eyes on his surroundings. 

“Merlin?” Arthur hovered over the boy, cursing the worry that seeped into his voice. He watched as Merlin’s gaze gained some clarity, looking between Arthur and Gaius and back again. He relaxed a fraction. Then without warning, his body became rigid, his eyes wide.

“Where is it?” His hand shot out to grip Arthur’s forearm almost painfully with his bony fingers. “Did she get it?” Merlin insisted. 

Arthur was bewildered, but before he could ask what he was talking about, Gaius was shouldering his way into view.

“Don’t worry Merlin. I’ve kept it safe for you.” The old man patted his arm soothingly and Arthur felt Merlin’s grip on him relent. Relief clearly flooded over his servant as he sank back into the cot and closed his eyes. Gaius didn’t even spare Arthur a glance. “Let’s get you some water. Arthur, get the cup from the table. Do you think you can keep some bread down?”

Merlin nodded but his eyes remained closed as Arthur fetched him a cup of water. When he returned Gaius had propped him up on some cushions. He offered his servant the water. Merlin took it with shaking fingers. 

He still looked terribly pale. He watched Merlin nibble on a crust of bread. Arthur turned away from him to lean into the physician. 

“What was he talking about before? What are you protecting?”

The old man chewed the inside of his cheek and busied himself preparing a medicated broth for his ward. “Ah, that was nothing, sire. He keeps little trinkets on his travels. Collects them, if you will. He’s rather possessive of them.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. Gaius wasn’t telling him everything. Who was the woman he mentioned? Why was it his first waking thought? Arthur opened his mouth to voice his suspicions when he was interrupted by a bout of coughing from his left.

Arthur’s attention swerved to the matter at hand. Merlin gulped down another mouthful of water. Arthur waited until he swallowed before he began his interrogation. 

“Merlin, what happened to you?” Arthur tried to keep his voice gentle but his emotions were still running high. 

Merlin clutched his cup to his chest and glanced at Gaius questioningly. He must have come to some conclusion because he said, “I, um, I got lost.”

Arthur stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He turned to Gaius to see if he had heard the same thing or if he’d at last gone mad. He turned back to Merlin who smiled weakly at him. 

The young royal closed his eyes and tipped his head back to the ceiling. 

“You got...lost?” he whispered, as if afraid to grant even a sliver of validity to his claim by repeating it. 

Gaius, perhaps predicting the impending catastrophe, tried to insert himself quietly. “Sire, I believe Merlin is slightly delirious at the moment. Perhaps it would be best if you would revisit him when he has a clearer head and -”

“A more believable story?” finished Arthur, finally turning his gaze upon his servant. “Merlin, I understand that you are a fool, but even you know which way is North.”

Merlin took another hasty gulp of water. “What can I say,” he said feebly. “I surprise even myself sometimes.”

Arthur shook his head in disbelief and ran a hand through his hair. “Just tell me who did this.” Someone had done something, he was sure. But why would Merlin protect them like this? He didn’t understand.

Merlin shook his head imperceptively, not in defiance, just denial. “I just got lost, Arthur. I couldn’t find my way back to the main road,” he paused for breath, his strength not as it usually was. “And I didn’t really find food… or water… or…” he trailed off, obviously realizing how ridiculous he sounded. Arthur knew that Merlin was probably the clumsiest person alive but he wasn’t helpless. He had basic survival skills. He’d seen it. 

Arthur threw his arms out at his sides. “Merlin, please stop this stupid narrative and just tell me the truth.”

Merlin looked trapped. He looked to Gaius for help, but the old man just shrugged. 

The servant cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Fine,” he said at last. “If you must know… I got stuck.”

Arthur bit his lip. “Fine. I’ll bite. How’d did you get stuck?”

“I - you know, the details aren’t important, right? You’ll spare me the embarrassment of recounting them, won’t you? The important thing is that I’m back home and I can get back to work.” Merlin started making motions to get up. Both Arthur and Gaius started to protest but Merlin waved them off. 

The young man stood shakily. Arthur’s arm was half raised toward him, ready to steady him. If it was possible, Arthur thought he lost even more color in his face. Without the blanket to shield him from view, he saw Merlin’s hunched form, the obvious soreness at his joints, the atrophy in his muscles. Merlin swallowed and looked at them both.

“See, I’m fine.” 

Merlin’s eyes rolled back in his head and Arthur lunged forward, catching him none too gently before he could hit the floor. He awkwardly maneuvered his limp body back onto the cot. He huffed a breath when he finally got him settled. 

“He’s going to get himself killed.” He turned toward Gaius, trying to gather his thoughts. “He’s not going to tell me what happened is he?”

Gaius’s mouth formed a grim line. “Probably not.”

Chapter Text

Arthur walked down the steps of the west entrance to the castle. It had been a rather long day but he hoped to get in some leisurely riding in before the sun went down. He wouldn’t have a minute of free time for the next week so he thought he’d try to have some peace and quiet while he still could. His steps slowed as he approached the bottom of the stairs. 

Merlin was sitting on the second step, he’d recognize the back of his head anywhere. And it looked like Lancelot was sitting next to him, a consolatory hand on his shoulder. What were they both doing out here? He took a few more steps and saw Merlin’s shoulders quake. Was the man crying?

“Merlin?” he called and both men straightened immediately. He’d definitely interrupted something.  Merlin wiped hastily at his face with his sleeve, his back still turned. Lancelot twisted around a gave Arthur a grim smile before gripping Merlin’s shoulder tightly. He then whispered something to the servant that Arthur couldn’t catch. Merlin nodded at the ground. Satisfied, Lancelot turned and took a few steps up to meet Arthur. 

“Lancelot,” Arthur greeted pleasantly, but his gaze kept darting to Merlin’s back. He still hadn’t turned to look at him. 

“Good evening, sire,” Lancelot returned. He gestured up the staircase. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Unless you need me for something that is?”

Arthur shook his head distractedly. Merlin hadn’t moved. 

“Right.” Lancelot leaned into him suddenly. “Be gentle with him, won’t you?” he whispered. “He’s had a rough day.”

Arthur scowled slightly. What was wrong with Merlin? Lancelot’s eyebrows twitched like he needed a verbal response. 

“Alright,” Arthur whispered back, tightly. He could be gentle. 

Lancelot nodded. “Well, goodnight then.” He passed him quickly and Arthur looked back to the man still sitting on the steps. 

“Merlin?” he called again, quieter this time.

Merlin stood at last and turned to him. His eyes were red as well as the tips of his ears. He must have been crying really hard. 

“Arthur.” His voice was hoarse. “Do you need anything?”

Not for the first time did Arthur curse the fact that all of his conversations started this way. He sometimes just wanted to talk to someone, but he always had to assure the other person that he didn’t need them to do anything first. 

Arthur shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

Merlin’s eyes dropped to the ground. “Nothing,” he lied. 

Arthur waited a moment. “Was it the execution?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and disarming. Merlin’s silence in the seconds that followed just confirmed his suspicions. “I know it’s not always easy, but all of us must try to get accustomed to a certain level of violence -”

“She was a child!” Merlin spat suddenly, the pink hue returning to his ears. 

Arthur raised his hands slightly in a calming motion. He tried to be delicate when he next spoke. “Sixteen is hardly a child, plus she knew what she was doing.”

“No, she didn’t,” Merlin sighed and screwed his eyes shut as if he wanted to block out the memory. “That’s the whole point. She was young. She didn’t know how to control it.”

“She set her house on fire,” Arthur reminded him, a bit of force creeping into his voice. 

“You really think she meant to do that? She said it was an accident.”

Arthur scoffed. “You can’t trust what those people say.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. Arthur thought for a second he saw fire within his irises. He took an involuntary step back. He rarely saw such an expression on the man’s face.

“So you didn’t even believe her?” Merlin asked. Arthur thought he heard disappointment in his voice. He sighed. How could he explain this to Merlin?

“It wasn’t my decision to make,” he said tiredly. He didn’t want to dwell on what could not be undone. 

“Oh, well that makes everything better doesn’t it,” Merlin said sarcastically, a biting edge to his voice that Arthur didn’t understand. “Maybe if your father was less of a coward, then -”

Arthur grabbed his shoulders and slammed his servant against the wall. Merlin let out a grunt of surprise. 

“Be aware of how you speak, Merlin,” he hissed, his face inches from Merlin’s. “You’re treading dangerously close to treason there.”

The fire in Merlin’s eyes flared again and Arthur thought he was going to say more, but then he felt the man’s shoulders slump. Merlin’s eyes dimmed and fell to the ground. When he raised his head again, his eyes had welled with fresh tears. 

Arthur released his grip on him and winced. He was supposed to be being gentle. He was doing a rather shoddy job. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Merlin spoke before he could start.

“She was a child,” he whispered. 

Arthur could not help the way his heart shattered at the look in Merlin’s eyes. He was truly anguished. He couldn’t stand to see it anymore. He reached out and grabbed the back of his neck, his thumb resting in front of his ear. 

“I know,” he said softly. He did know. He’d seen the girl’s face, all red and wet from weeping. He knew she hadn’t meant to, she had no control. But it wasn’t his place to speak out against his father. Not when so many nobles were in the room. “I know,” he repeated. His voice shook slightly, but he didn’t mind. Merlin needed to know anyway. 

Merlin’s lip trembled and he let a tear fall. Arthur swiped it away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered after a while. “I didn’t mean to disrespect -”

“It’s alright,” Arthur cut him off, equally softly. He knew Merlin hadn’t meant what he said. He had just been upset. His servant sniffed pitifully. “Come here.”

He tugged gently at the base of his neck and brought him closer into a tight hug. Merlin buried his nose in his shoulder. Arthur felt his chest expand beneath his fingers as he took a deep breath. He let it go a few more moments before he loosened his grip. Merlin pulled back and wiped his eyes again. 

“Thanks,” he said weakly.

Arthur took a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Merlin.” 

His servant nodded and walked up the stairs slowly. Arthur didn’t move until he was out of sight.

Chapter Text

“Not me,” said Gwaine proudly, gazing over the campfire to the other knights in challenge. “I’ve never lost a bar fight.”

“Gwaine, I’ve literally seen you get thrown out of a tavern window three times,” said Merlin, taking another bite of bread. 

The knights laughed. Arthur remembered his first encounter with the man. It wasn’t unreasonable to believe that he’d gotten himself into trouble that many times.

“When was this?” Gwaine said in defense of his honor. “You were only there the one time.”

Merlin grinned. “I believe you were too drunk to remember.”

Gwaine scoffed in mock offense. “I’ve never been drunk in my life,” he grinned. Percival smacked him on the back of the head before eating another spoonful of stew. 

“I’m surprised you don’t see Merlin more often, Gwaine,” said Arthur with a twitch of his eyebrows. “It seems he’s in the tavern every other hour these days.”

Merlin turned to his right to face his king. “I am not there that often,” he protested. 

“Leon and I have a bet,” Arthur said. Leon raised his hands defensively. “Every time I go to ask Gaius where you are I say tavern and Leon says you’re asleep.” 

“I took the bet one time,” Leon stressed looking apologetically at Merlin.

“I win every time,” Arthur said smugly. 

Merlin sighed and shook his head. “Maybe I go there to get away from you people.”

“You can’t stay away,” Arthur joked and punched him lightly on the arm. 

Merlin let out a hiss of pain, and Arthur’s smile faded. Were those tears in his eyes?

“What’s wrong with you? I didn’t hit you that hard,” Arthur said. Merlin blinked the tears away quickly but Arthur saw them. “Aren’t you country folk supposed to be tough?” he joked and nudged his knee into Merlin’s. The man flinched. 

Merlin chuckled nervously and tried to discreetly shift toward Leon, moving away from his king. Arthur narrowed his eyes. 

“Seriously,” Arthur said and reached out and poked him in his bicep roughly. 

“Ow!” Merlin yelped. He stood abruptly, holding his arm. All the knights looked up from their food in concern. 

“Merlin?” Gwaine asked.

Arthur waited for his servant to explain himself. 

“The sun’s getting lower,” Merlin said tightly. “I’ll go get more firewood.” He turned swiftly away from the camp before any of them could say anything else. 

“What’s gotten into him?” Elyan said curiously. 

Percival shrugged and Arthur narrowed his eyes as he watched Merlin disappear into the trees. 

“Should one of us go with him?” Gwaine asked.

“Maybe he needs some of his alone time, but they haven’t got any taverns out here,” Percival said. 

Elyan snickered into his stew. Arthur just shook his head. Merlin was a very strange man. He found he did many things that appeared to be confusing. Quite often. And he was never very good at explaining himself. Sometimes Arthur thought it was purposeful, that Merlin just liked keeping him on his toes. And then other times he didn’t think even Merlin knew how strange he was being. 

“Maybe he just wanted to get away from you ,” Gwaine countered. He gave Percival a pitying look. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you kind of smell.”

“Piss off.” The man shoved him so hard he nearly toppled off the log he was perched on. Gwaine let out a laugh as he righted himself.

“Percival only smells because he was the only one working up a sweat,” Leon said with a smirk.

“What are you implying?”

Percival grinned at Gwaine. “You know exactly what he’s implying. I took out four of those bandits all on my own.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes. “That’s not fair. I had the big one!” He stood and started reenacting the skirmish. The others egged him on, interjecting every once in a while with their own details. When he was finished, he puffed his chest out and raised his arms to the sky in victory. “I’ll have you all know that I sweat buckets.”

“We know. Put your arms down,” said Elyan, waving a hand in front of his nose dramatically. Gwaine pouted. 

“Ladies, ladies,” Arthur interjected. “You all fought very well today. I’m very proud of all of you.”

His knights preened under his praise. Percival lifted his bowl of stew in a toast. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, sire.” The others all murmured their agreement. Arthur smiled in return. He truly was extremely proud of the team he’d gathered. Each one brought something different to each fight, a new perspective, a unique strength. Which reminded him; where had Merlin run off to that was taking him so long?

As if listening to his thoughts, it was then that Merlin came through the tree line, a bundle of large sticks in his arms. 

“Merlin!” Gwaine said delightedly. The servant puffed a breath as he dropped his haul unceremoniously next to the encampment. 

“What’s that on your arm there, Merlin?” Leon asked. All eyes turned to the man’s arm where Arthur had poked him earlier. A dark stain had spread over the fabric of his shirt. Arthur squinted. That hadn’t been there before.

Merlin peered awkwardly at his arm and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Arthur stood and walked until he was right in front of his servant. He grabbed his wrist to pull it closer. Merlin grimaced. Yes. That was definitely blood. 

“Damn it, Merlin. Why didn’t you say anything?” Arthur loosened his grip on the man’s wrist. He didn’t know how bad it was yet and he didn’t want to hurt him any further. He cursed inwardly. He’d punched him there for God’s sake. 

“Let me see it,” he said. 

Merlin was already shaking his head. “No, it’s fine really-”

“Merlin are you alright?” Gwaine appeared at Arthur’s side suddenly. 

“What’s he done to himself now?” came Percival’s voice from behind them.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, keeping eye contact with his servant. “I don’t know yet, but he better let me see it before I tear his sleeve off.”

“Arthur, please. I only have three shirts.”

“All the more reason to not ruin this one with any more blood.”

“Blood?” Elyan asked anxiously.

“Guys, I’m fine,” Merlin insisted. 

Arthur took the hunting knife from his belt and wielded it threateningly. “You think I’m joking about the shirt?”

Merlin gave a great sigh before pulling his shirt over his head. To Arthur’s surprise, the wound had already been bandaged, although not very well. Red seeped through the formerly white cloth wrapped around his bicep. 

“Gwaine, get some fresh bandages from my saddlebag,” he ordered. Gwaine disappeared from the corner of his eye as he focused on the bloody fabric in front of him.

“Come sit down,” he said to Merlin. “It’ll be easier.”

Merlin sat without a word at the edge of the fire. Gwaine returned with the bandages just as Arthur was taking a seat next to him. He took them gratefully, set them in his lap, and started undoing the loose knot of the meager bandage on Merlin’s arm. 

“Did you do this yourself?” Arthur asked softly, attempting privacy with all the knights around staring anxiously. 

Merlin nodded, a hint of shame lining his features. “It’s hard to do with one hand,” he muttered. 

Arthur agreed quietly and unwrapped the bandage as gently as he could. When it was off, he examined the wound carefully. It was small but deep, definitely a blade of some kind. It was also at least two days old, by the looks of it. Arthur must have broken the fragile scab when he’d poked him. Guilt rolled in his stomach, but he tried to push it down. It wasn’t his fault Merlin hadn’t told him. He took up the new bandage and began wrapping the wound, more securely this time.

“Did one of those bandits get you, Merlin?” Gwaine asked. “You should have said something.”

Merlin hesitated before speaking. “Yeah. Yes, it was the bandits.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. Gwaine was grasping for a reasonable answer, but Arthur knew for a fact that Merlin was lying. They’d only fought those bandits hours ago. The wound was too old for it to have occurred then. Merlin would have had no time to bandage himself without anyone seeing anyway. And above all else, there would have been a gaping hole in his shirt where the hypothetical weapon would have pierced it to get to his skin.

Merlin shot a nervous glance at Arthur as if he knew he wasn’t at all convinced. Arthur gave him a stern look in return. He would leave it be for now in their present company, but as soon as they got home Merlin would have some questions to answer.

He finished the knot on his arm. Merlin looked at the ground, avoiding his gaze.

“Put your shirt back on,” Arthur said resignedly. He stood tearing his eyes away from Merlin to address his men. “Get a good night’s sleep. We leave at first light.”

He looked at the back of Merlin’s head. He wondered what excuse he’d hear when they returned.

Chapter Text

“I told you, sire, I tripped over a bucket in the stables,” Merlin said for the third time that morning. He limped over to the other side of the bed to smooth out the covers, heavily favoring his right leg, grimacing with every step. 

“And I’m telling you that I don’t believe you,” Arthur countered from his seat at the table. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw the cloth irritably down on top of his half-eaten breakfast. 

Merlin sighed. “I don’t care much of what you believe, Arthur. That’s what happened.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in what he hoped was an uninterested manner. “Fine. Let’s say it was a bucket. What was in the bucket?”

Merlin threw his arms out in exasperation. “What was - why does it matter - nothing! Nothing was in the bucket!” Merlin grimaced as his frustrated flailing pushed weight on his injured leg. He steadied himself on the bedpost and said with a forced calm, “Do you need help with your clothes, sire?”

Arthur ignored him. “Were there any witnesses to this incident?”

“No, I-”

“Pretty convenient I should say.”

Merlin’s face was getting red, from exertion or frustration he couldn’t tell. 

“Let’s just analyze this a little shall we?” Arthur gazed up at the ceiling and adopted the most patronizing voice he could muster. 

Merlin groaned and limped over to the table to gather his dishes. Arthur ignored his protest. If Merlin thought he could get away with lying this blatantly to his face he had another thing coming. 

“You, Merlin, my humble and hardworking servant, who would never think of deceiving me, went down to the stables early in the morning, even though I gave no reason for you to be there-”

“That doesn’t-”

“On your way to do a nonexistent task, you stumble over an enormous empty bucket, right in the middle of your path-”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this.”

“Falling and twisting your ankle so severely that you can barely walk-”

“ I’m fine. ”

“And there was no one around to even help you up-”

“Would you bloody leave it alone!” Merlin nearly shouted.

Arthur stopped his ramblings and drew his gaze to the other man who was already lowering his eyes to the floor in penance for his outburst.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” Merlin said. “Is there anything else you require of me?” His eyes left the floor to quietly dare him to keep pushing the issue. 

Arthur felt a little guilty at riling him up but he hated being lied to. And he would get to the bottom of the entire ordeal eventually. He held his gaze.

“Help me with my clothes,” he said after quite a bit of time had passed. He rose from his seat slowly, making a show of nearly skipping over to his bed where Merlin had laid out his outfit for the day. Merlin set his jaw.

He waited leisurely as Merlin hobbled over, the servant’s mouth stubbornly closed against any noise of discomfort that must have been bubbling behind his teeth. The man was obviously in pain, Arthur thought as he watched him make his way to where he sat. 

Merlin grunted slightly as he reached the bed and Arthur deflated a little. He didn’t like seeing Merlin in pain, despite whatever his servant said when Arthur bullied him. He didn’t actually need help with his clothes. He was being cruel, he realized that. But Merlin wasn’t going to tell the truth without some pushing. 

Merlin let out a labored breath as he leaned on the bedpost for support. 

“What would you like first, my lord ?” Merlin glared at him.

“I’ll need my shirt first, I think,” said Arthur, perfectly innocently. 

Merlin let go of the bedpost and took the hem of his sleep shirt in his hands. Arthur raised his arms to allow Merlin to pull it off of him. The servant folded it quickly before setting it on the bed covers. He then anchored himself on the bedpost before reaching to grab his shirt for the day. Arthur glanced down at their feet. Just by the way he was standing, Arthur could tell Merlin’s left foot was barely touching the ground. His servant gathered the material in his hands before draping it over Arthur’s head. Arthur put his arms through just as Merlin winced as he shifted his weight. His hand reached for the bedpost again.

“Merlin,” he said in warning, his voice low. Merlin stilled. “If you touch that bedpost again, I will give you a reason to limp.” 

Merlin’s eyes bore into his as he slowly lowered his hand. His chin raised in challenge even as his breath became heavier with exertion. 

“If you tell me the truth, however,” began Arthur, his voice almost a purr, coaxing, “you can lean on anything you wish.”

He saw Merlin’s jaw clench. Arthur raised his eyebrows. Finally, he gritted out, “I tripped over a damned bucket, sire.”

Arthur nodded, slowly backing away from him. “I see.” His back hit the wall. Merlin narrowed his eyes. 

“Would you be so kind as to hand me my trousers, Merlin?”

His friend looked like he wanted to commit several forms of treason in that moment. He snatched the trousers from the bed covers and took one step on his right foot. Arthur watched as Merlin deliberately took another step, putting what appeared to be his full weight onto his injured leg. His pride brought his right foot to the same level and paused, drawing a deep breath. He managed to keep the pain from showing on his face though Arthur assumed the mask of extreme anger would have blocked out any other expression at that moment. He was only about four steps away now. Merlin locked eyes with him again. He took a confident step forward, then another with a small grunt. He was almost there. Another step. Just one more. Merlin drew in a breath, stepped out and - 

His leg buckled almost immediately. Arthur lunged forward and caught the man under his armpits before his knees hit the ground. He felt Merlin’s fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to any support he could reach. 

“Easy, easy,” Arthur muttered as Merlin tried to right himself while still maintaining his dignity. 

“I’m fine,” said Merlin unconvincingly as he gripped Arthur’s arms as he steadied himself on his right foot. His servant panted but didn’t let go of him. His trousers lay on the ground forgotten. 

Arthur studied him as he readjusted his grip to rest on the other man’s shoulders. 

“Oh for the love of - Merlin you are sweating. Please just sit down for a moment,” implored Arthur. He didn’t care anymore about what had happened. His friend was in pain and Arthur had only made it worse. Guilt roiled in the pit of his stomach as his gaze roamed over Merlin’s damp forehead and unfocused eyes. He wouldn’t have antagonized him so much if he’d know it was this bad. Merlin should have said something.

Merlin was shaking his head. “No, no. I think I just need -” 

He paled suddenly and Arthur tightened his grip on his shoulders in case he fell faint. Merlin sucked in a breath and some color returned to his cheeks. 

“I just need to go rest in my room.” He blinked several times. “Yes, I just need some rest.” He took Arthur’s wrist and pulled gently. Arthur released him reluctantly, hovering just out of reach in case his legs gave out again. 

Merlin looked down at the floor to Arthur’s forgotten trousers. “You can…?”

“Yes, Merlin I’m not helpless.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows as if he was going to argue but then thought better of it. 

“You’ll send a page if you need me?”

Arthur scoffed. He would never fail to be amazed at his servant’s willingness to suffer at his expense. It was annoying really. “Of course,” he said placatingly though he had absolutely no plans to need Merlin for at least a day. Not while he was in this state. He should have made sure the other man was well. A sudden caring urge overcame him.

“I could take a look your leg before you go -” he began.

“NO!” Merlin shouted forcefully, his eyes wide like a panicked deer. 

Arthur nearly flinched at the harshness of his tone. Disappointment and hurt flooded through him without volition. He tried not to let it show on his face. Merlin rarely showed that level of defiance, and even more uncommon was it directed at himself. Arthur’s despondence quickly morphed into suspicion. 

Arthur narrowed his eyes at his servant. What did Merlin not want him to see? What was he hiding from him?

Merlin cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice had a forceful cheer. “No. Thank you, though. I’ll just get Gaius to look at it. He’ll know what to do.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly, though he didn’t know what to say after that.

“Arthur, please…” Merlin murmured, his eyes searching his own.

Arthur looked back, desperately trying to find answers in the blue depths. Why was he hiding things from him? He could be protecting someone. Did he not trust him at all? Had he not proven himself to be a worthy confidant?

Merlin’s eyes pleaded with him. Finally, Arthur nodded slowly. Merlin sighed in relief. They shared another long glance. Then Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly and looked around.

“Could you - Would you mind if-”

Arthur smirked. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

Merlin smiled gratefully.

“Just let me change my damn trousers first.”

Chapter Text

“Good morning, sire,” Merlin said as he opened the curtains. Arthur groaned against the harsh light and threw an arm over his eyes. He felt Merlin poke his side. 

“Come on, get up. You’ve got a big day today.”

Arthur grumbled as he remembered his schedule. Meeting after meeting with a variety of different dignitaries. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to. He’d been up all night trying to organize the letters and essays to prepare for the day. Which reminded him… 

“Where were you last night?” he asked groggily. 

“I fell asleep,” Merlin said distractedly, getting his clothes out for the day. 

Arthur frowned and sat up. “Where? I went to your room and you weren’t there. Gaius didn’t know where you were either.”

“I was at a friend’s house,” Merlin muttered, examining a loose thread on Arthur’s tunic as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“Merlin, you don’t have friends.”

“I find that very insulting,” he said. He didn’t sound insulted. He sounded tired. Merlin motioned for him to get up. “Get up, you’re not going to have time to eat at this rate.”

Arthur got up slowly and stretched. 

“Trousers,” Merlin urged. Arthur sighed dramatically but allowed Merlin to manhandle him into his trousers. 

“So what’s this friend’s name?” Arthur asked. He was curious about who Merlin had decided was more important than himself. 

Merlin shook his head. “You wouldn’t know them.” 

Arthur watched him carefully. Something was wrong. Merlin held out his undershirt to put on but kept his eyes lowered. Merlin hadn’t made eye contact with him the entire morning, he realized. He was hiding something. He looked him over. What else had he missed? He needed another clue. 

“Are they new in town or something?” Arthur pressed again as he shrugged on his undershirt. 

“No, they’ve been here forever.” Merlin turned to the side to grab his tunic, and that’s when Arthur saw it. 

The beginnings of a dark bruise peeked over the top of Merlin’s scarlet neckerchief about his neck. Oh. Perhaps Merlin was at a friend’s house after all. Arthur smirked. He’d have never have thought in a thousand years that Merlin would be the one with a secret lover. He felt a strange mixture of pride and disappointment blend in his mind. Is that where he went off to when Arthur couldn’t find him? He wondered why Merlin hadn’t shared it with him. He would have thought after all this time they’d known each other, this would have been exciting news. 

In any case, Arthur had new teasing material. 

“So this friend of yours,” Arthur smirked. “How long have you known them?”

“What does it matter?”

Arthur shrugged. “I was just wondering if it was new, but by the looks of it, you’re already past the initial introductory phase.”

Merlin paused his busy movements in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on. Tell me about them.” Arthur grinned as he stuck his head through the tunic. “No use hiding it anymore.”

He reached out to tug at Merlin’s neckerchief while Merlin busied himself with the buttons. 

“Don’t-” Merlin protested but he wasn’t fast enough. 

Arthur pulled down the fabric to expose the evidence of Merlin’s romantic endeavors but that is not what found. Instead, the bruises continued, dark and dreadful all around the front of his neck. He only saw it for a second before Merlin was stepping away from him, hastily readjusting his neckerchief to cover himself again. 

Arthur could not move for a moment, his grin long gone, replaced with shock and confusion. 

“What the hell is that?” Arthur asked, at last, his voice finally breaking through his momentary paralysis.

“It’s really not as bad as it looks -” Merlin started.

“ Merlin.” The man started to speak but Arthur didn’t give him the chance. He closed the distance between them in a blink and was reaching for the fabric once again, this time with a stronger purpose. 

“Arthur, please -”

He tugged the neckerchief down again, stepping even closer to examine the skin more carefully. The bruises were really more red upon closer inspection. Merlin’s pale skin only made the discoloration more drastic. It was a mostly steady line broken only by where the skin had split and allowed pricks of blood to come through. A rope then, or something very similar. 

His mind raced through all of his enemies, foreign kingdoms, rogue thieves and spies, anyone he’d had a disagreement with in the past ten years. Why would they attack his servant and not himself? Were they trying to get information? Oh God, had they tortured him? Fear seized his insides like an ice-cold vice. He scanned the rest of his face carefully. He didn’t see anything else, but that only lowered his heart rate by a fraction. It wasn’t like Merlin was in the habit of telling him if he was injured. 

He raised his eyes to meet his friend’s. He was so close to his face, he couldn’t focus. He took a small step back but kept his hand on the man’s chest just in case he tried to deny his injuries again. Merlin looked at Arthur’s chest dejectedly. 

“Who did this?” Arthur was shocked at the anger in his own voice. 

Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“No, don’t even start,” Arthur hissed. “You will tell me the truth.”

He opened his eyes but still did not look directly at his own. “Arthur, I promise I will tell you. Later. But you have meetings-”

“They can wait,” Arthur assured him. Merlin swallowed thickly. Arthur watched the bruises move on his throat. “Who. Did. This.” he repeated slowly. 

Merlin sighed and finally looked him in the eye. Arthur sucked in a breath. Arthur couldn’t explain it, but his eyes looked as if they’d aged fifty years. His face remained the same, but his soul had matured beyond his understanding. It was still Merlin, but he was exhausted. 

“Merlin?” he breathed. 

Merlin’s hand came up to grip Arthur’s wrist where it rested on his chest. Arthur thought for a moment that he meant to remove it, but his grip only tightened. 

“Do you trust me?” Merlin asked, holding his gaze.

Arthur hesitated. He knew Merlin kept things from him, told him half-truths, or omitted certain details, but when it came down to it, Arthur would always trust his friend. 

“Yes.”

Merlin nodded. “Then you will trust me when I say that the people who did this will never do it again. They are gone. They are never coming back.” He leaned forward slightly, pressing Arthur’s hand into his chest. “I promise.”

Arthur searched his eyes and felt Merlin’s heart beneath his palm. They were both as steady as stone. Merlin released his wrist and Arthur took a moment before lowering his own hand to his side. 

He still had many questions. Things were not adding up. Why would Merlin never explain himself? 

A knock sounded at his chamber door. Merlin pulled away and readjusted his neckerchief once again. 

“Your majesty,” a voice called from outside the door. “Sir Branagan awaits your presence in the throne room.”

“Tell him I will see him in a moment,” he called back, not caring that his frustration carried into his voice. 

Merlin straightened his tunic and ran his hands through Arthur’s bedhead. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. 

“Alright, go, go,” he said seemingly satisfied, practically pushing him toward the door. 

“Merlin-”

“I promise I’ll be here when you are done, sire,” Merlin assured him gently. “Now go.”

He opened the door for him and gave him a small shove. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Merlin shut the door behind him. He nodded awkwardly to the guardsman posted outside the door and started down the hall. He took a deep breath and tried to reign in his thoughts. He had to focus on other things for a while. He had work to do. 

Chapter Text

Arthur rounded the corner, not even trying to hide the annoyance on his face. Merlin was late. Again. This was the fourth time in two weeks and Arthur was getting rather tired of hunting him down at all hours of the day. If he had to chase his manservant down one more time he’d -

A crash sounded from the open door of the physician’s quarters. Arthur sped forward. What had Merlin done now? 

“... that’s not really going to fix anything, is it,” came Gaius’ tired voice. “There’s no sense in losing your temper.”

Arthur entered the room just as Merlin pulled a childish face at Gaius. 

“What the hell is going on in here?” Arthur asked. Both men jumped in surprise, looking to each other anxiously. 

“Ah, good morning, sire,” said Gaius, regaining a neutral expression. Merlin turned away and knelt to pick up whatever had fallen to the ground earlier. Arthur watched him carefully. He could tell he was in a bad mood. “To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing you here?”

“Merlin wasn’t in my chambers this morning.” Arthur crossed his arms. 

“Well, I do apologize for that, sire,” Gaius said. “That was my doing. I had Merlin doing some chores for me in here.”

Arthur looked around at the cluttered tables and shelves, the dust on the bottles, the cobwebs on in the corners. He raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Yes, I can see he was very hard at work.”

Gaius looked around the room as well and frowned. “Hmm, yes. Well, Merlin here was just going to go see to you.”

Merlin whirled around and stared at Gaius pointedly, his eyes wide. The old man shrugged. He turned back to Arthur.

He spoke hesitantly. “But you should know before you leave, that -”

Merlin slammed his hand on the table loudly.

“What?” Gaius said. 

Merlin shook his head vehemently, pointing to himself and then Arthur. 

“Gaius, tell me what is happening here,” Arthur said, unease creeping into his voice. He was starting to get a bad feeling about all of this. 

The physician sighed. “Merlin’s lost his voice a bit.” Merlin threw his arms out to his sides in exasperation. “What, did you think he wouldn’t notice, dear boy?”

Merlin scowled and opened his mouth for an angry retort, but no sound came out. He was clearly speaking forcefully, but it was as if he was watching the man from the other side of three panes of glass. He couldn’t hear a sound. It was the strangest thing to see. Merlin gestured wildly between the three of them while his mouth moved without sound.

“Young man, I will not have that kind of language in here,” Gaius reprimanded. Merlin rolled his eyes and muttered soundlessly at the floor. “Don’t try and deny it. I saw that word as clear as day.”

Arthur stepped further into the room, watching Merlin closely. “How did he lose his voice so quickly. He was fine yesterday.” 

Gaius gave one last judgemental eyebrow to Merlin before turning back to Arthur with a placating smile. “I believe it to be just a passing ailment of the throat, sire. I do not believe it to be too severe. In fact, it should be quite temporary.” He gave a pointed look to Merlin, whose shoulders slumped in a silent sigh. 

“Good lord,” said Arthur. “He really can’t make a sound can he?”

Gaius shook his head gravely. “I’m afraid he is even worse than a mute.”

“Is it contagious?”

“No, no, definitely not.” The old man patted his arm reassuringly. “It seems to only be affecting Merlin.”

His servant rubbed a tired hand over his face. 

“I’m working on a cure as we speak, sire.” Gaius nodded over to the main work table, cluttered with open books and raw ingredients. 

Arthur smirked. “Well, don’t be too hasty, Gaius. I wouldn’t mind some peace and quiet for a change.”

Merlin pouted. 

“Come along, Merlin. What shall I not hear you complain about first?”

Chapter Text

“Careful now, men,” Arthur warned. They walked through the old abandoned castle slowly, careful not to disturb any of the building’s already precarious structures. He knew the witch was here. But this was unfamiliar ground, they were at a clear disadvantage. The corners and half-formed walls made the perfect cover for an ambush.

He looked to his right. Merlin scanned the walls for movement. Beyond him, Gwaine and Percival had their swords at the ready. On his left were Elyan and Leon. A formidable group, but Arthur had learned long ago to never underestimate a sorcerer. 

Another cloud blew in front of the sun, dimming the entire corridor. 

“We should come back when it gets lighter,” Merlin said softly, keeping his eyes peeled for any threat. Arthur wanted to agree with him. The shadows within the old castle were growing longer. Before long, they wouldn’t be able to see an attack coming two feet in front of their faces. But they’d already traveled so far, and she was close. He could feel it in his gut. 

“No,” Arthur said. “We’ll at least search until we hit the east wing. She can’t have gone far.” 

He led the way carefully until the large corridor expanded into a grand throne room. The sun bled through the crumbling windows and created eerie beams of light that illuminated the abandoned hall. Arthur saw the remnants of an old stone throne. The back had crumbled to pieces. The feet looked as if someone had hacked at it with a sword. He forced his eyes to search for clues of the witch. He did not have time to dwell on the long-forgotten history of faraway kings. A flash of color caught his eye.

“Look,” said Leon, pointing at the iridescent green scales near the doorway in the corner. Just like the ones the witch had draped about herself on that dirty old cloak she wore. Arthur quickly took stock of the rest of the room. An uneasy dread seeped into his chest but he quickly regained his composure. 

“Alright, I’ll go through first, then Percival and Gwaine, then Merlin. Leon and Elyan will bring up the rear.” His knights nodded. Merlin was still looking at the scales skeptically. 

“Merlin?” 

Merlin nodded distractedly. Arthur sighed. That boy was going to get himself killed one day. He raised his sword and took a step forward. 

“Wait!” Merlin said. 

Arthur froze, his eyes darting everywhere in search of a threat. Merlin took a few cautious steps forward. 

“Merlin get back here!” he ordered. He moved forward to drag him back but Merlin threw up his hand to halt him. 

“Stay there.” Merlin’s eyes were bright in the darkening room, his voice sure. He could barely see him now. Damn clouds.

“Trust me.”

Arthur did not know what possessed him to follow his servant’s ordered but he did not move toward him again. His knights waited by his side, awaiting his next command. 

Merlin turned away from them and approached the door carefully, all hints of his usual clumsiness gone. His feet did not make a sound on the worn stone floors. He hardly seemed to breathe, or perhaps that was Arthur.  Merlin made it two feet from the doorway. He peered carefully down the hallway as if expecting someone to jump out of the shadows. When no one did, he knelt to pick up one of the scales. Arthur felt uneasy.

“Merlin, don’t-”

But he was too late. Merlin’s finger touched the surface of the scale and the room erupted in a blinding green light, the force of it pushing Arthur back and to the ground. He felt as if a horse had run into him. He heard stone fall and tried to cover his head instinctually, making his body as small as possible. He hoped his men were doing the same. The castle had been on the brink of collapse anyway, but whatever that magical burst of light had been was taking its toll. 

Arthur felt the floor crack and shake beneath him for a moment longer. Then everything was still. Arthur sat up to assess the damage. He coughed through the dust floating in the air. He could barely see a thing. 

“Everyone alright?” he choked out through another bought of coughing. 

Gwaine groaned beside him. “Percy?”

“Here.”

The dust settled a bit more and he saw Gwaine sit up. “Damn that was close, wasn’t it?”

“Merlin, Leon, Elyan?” Arthur asked again, fear quickening in his heart in the silence that followed. 

“I’m alright,” Leon said at last.

“Can’t see a damn thing,” Elyan’s voice carried through the room. 

Arthur waited another moment but he did not hear a third voice. 

“Merlin?” Gwaine called into the cloud of dust, his usual canty tonality faltering. 

Arthur coughed again and stood shakily. He stumbled through the haze in the direction he’d last seen his friend. The clouds outside moved again and the room flooded with light. 

The entire back wall and half of the ceiling had collapsed into an enormous pile of debris that sloped against the corner of the room.  Shattered stone, crumbling mortar, and splintered support beams had crashed to the floor, completely cutting off the doorway they’d all been trying to get through. Where Merlin had been seconds before. No. No, no, no, no, no. 

Arthur could do nothing but stand and stare at the rubble. Merlin was beneath that. He couldn’t breathe, the air refused to enter his lungs. 

“Merlin!”

Arthur thoughted he’d made the frenzied cry himself but then it was Gwaine rushing past him and scratching away at the jagged rocks with gloved hands. 

“Percival, help,” he grunted as he tried to shift a cornerstone. 

And then suddenly they were all scrambling forward, Arthur among them, shifting bricks and hauling boulders in a desperate attempt to retrieve their friend. 

Or whatever was left of him . 

Arthur’s mind whirled with images of Merlin’s broken form buried underneath the rubble. He’d be broken and shattered and they were so far away from Gaius or anyone that could help. Why had he allowed Merlin to go before him? Why had he allowed him to come at all? 

He shifted a stone away from the pile and his entire body ached with a phantom loss. He blamed the tears in his eyes on the dust clouding the room. He still couldn’t breathe properly. What was wrong with him? They hadn’t even found him yet and he was acting as if Merlin was already gone. 

“Merlin?” Gwaine kept calling each time they shifted a larger stone.

 Nothing answered him. Arthur’s heart sank further with every silent second. But he did not stop. There was still a chance. Merlin could still be alive. He’d be mangled and crushed but he could… he could still be… 

Arthur did not feel the tear slide down his cheek, but he tasted the salt when it reached his lips. He would never forgive himself for this. As long as he lived, he would remember this feeling. 

He clawed at a stone the size of his bedside table and managed to heave it to the side with Leon’s help. He turned back to the pile and a flare of hope sparked in the pit of his stomach. A hole in the rubble had appeared. Small and black and hardly enough to fit his arm through, but it was the closest thing they’d seen that even resembled a glimpse of their friend. 

He surged forward, peering into the darkness hoping to catch a flash of red of that ridiculous scarf he always wore. 

There! Was that a hand? 

“Merlin,” he breathed. There was barely any light but Arthur dared to hope that he saw his friend. 

“Do you see him?”

“Is he alright?”

Arthur barely heard the knights. He leaned back to start tugging frantically at the loose stones around the opening they had made. 

“Wait!” Leon put a strong hand on his shoulder. Arthur could barely hold himself still. “We have to do this carefully. We don’t want the rest of this to fall on him by accident.”

Arthur forced himself to take a deep breath and assess the situation. They’d found him but now they had to get him out. And as quickly as possible. They didn’t know what state he was in. His hands shook as he pulled them through his hair. 

“Elyan.” He forced his voice to come out strong. “Find me some kind of torch in this damned place so we can see what we’re doing.”

“Yes, sire.”

Arthur heard him leave but his eyes did not leave the small opening. “Percival, Gwaine, take the heavier stones from the top. Less likely to crush us all if something gives way. Leon, you’ll clear the small bits with me.”

They set to work, Elyan returning soon after with a lit torch. By then the small opening had doubled in diameter. Arthur could see Merlin’s entire arm, but it wasn’t moving. He hoped above anything else that the man was just unconscious. If he was anything more, Arthur did not know what he would do when they drug him out. 

“I can see his face,” Leon said excitedly. Arthur shouldered past the knight to see. Half of the boy’s face was covered in blood, his eyes closed. He was so still. Arthur held his breath as he looked for any sign of movement in Merlin. 

 Did his shoulder just rise with an inhale? Had his pulse just jumped at the skin of his neck? 

“Damn it,” he growled aloud. He couldn’t tell. He needed Merlin in front of him. He needed to hold him. He needed to know that he was safe and alive.  

“I think if we widen it to the left a little, we’ll be able to pull him out,” Leon urged. 

Arthur agreed. They shifted a large stone carefully, held their breath as pebbles skittered down the pile and into the small cavern they’d discovered. But then it was clear. They could see him as clear as day. Arthur wasted no time and reached into the opening, grasping Merlin’s wrist as gently as he could while also pulling him to safety. Gwaine reached in carefully and hooked a hand underneath the man’s shoulder and together, they pulled him out. They settled him against the stone slope he’d just emerged from.

He was covered in dust, a thick coat of it covering his hair and his clothes. It made his skin look even paler than it usually was. Crimson shined in the firelight, blood oozing from a wound at his temple. He’d never seen the man look quite as ghostly as he did then. 

Arthur tore off his glove and pressed his fingers under his jaw. He choked on his relief as he felt a steady pulse beneath his skin.  

“He’s alive,” he said through his gasp of alleviation. The knights shared a collective sigh of relief. 

“I’ll go get some water and bandages for his head,” offered Percival. “Is he hurt anywhere else?”

Arthur’s fingers slipped from the reassurance of Merlin’s pulse point to run gingerly over the rest of his body, feeling for the dampness of blood or the odd angles of broken bones. He shook his head, amazed. 

“Shall we camp here for the night, sire?” Leon asked. Arthur just nodded and let his men arrange a fire and set out a meager supper. He could not bring himself to leave Merlin’s side. 

He’d come so close to losing him entirely. But he was alright, he was going to be fine. So why did he still feel the dead weight of dread in the pit of his stomach?

Percival returned with the bandages and water and they attempted to clean the grime and blood from his face. The wound on his head was small and already starting to clot but Percival bandaged him anyway, wrapping the cloth securely around his head.

“How long will it take for him to wake up?” Arthur asked, trying his best not to sound like a scared child. He just wanted to see his eyes open. Percival shrugged. 

“He’ll come around, sire,” Gwaine assured him from where he sat around the fire they’d made. “He always does.”

Leon came to crouch next to him. He held out the end of a loaf of bread and some dried venison. “Here. It’s been nearly a day since you last ate.” Arthur took it gratefully. 

“Thank you.” He took a bite and chewed slowly, finally looking at the rest of his men. They sat around the fire quietly, their usual rowdy conversation dulled by the events of the past hour. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief that no one else had been hurt. And that they’d all been there to help him get Merlin out safely.

Merlin’s breath stuttered at his side. Arthur’s heart seized as his friend groaned. 

“Merlin?”

The man opened his eyes slowly. “Arthur?” He winced and raised his hand to his head. Arthur nearly laughed in his relief. 

“Is he awake?” Gwaine jumped up and crowded around the man. He beamed when he saw Merlin’s confused expression. “Ah, Merlin!” He leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. Despite everything else, Merlin looked as if he were blushing. “You gave us quite a scare, there, mate.”

“What happened?” Merlin looked around the room blurrily. 

“You were buried under half a castle,” Percival butted in, leaning over Gwaine to get a good look at him. “We had to dig you out.”

“Really?” Merlin looked to Arthur for confirmation. He found he could only nod. 

“It was a miracle, I think,” said Gwaine. “It was like all the rocks stopped just short of crushing you. You were in a perfect little cave. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Merlin chuckled, his smile tight. “I guess I’m just lucky.”

Arthur didn’t care what Merlin was, he was just relieved that he was alive. He thanked whatever deity had decided to intervene with the entirety of his being. 

“Merlin, just promise to let one of us go first next time,” Arthur urged, squeezing his shoulder. 

Merlin smiled weakly. “I’ll make no promises.”

Chapter Text

Arthur left his rooms leisurely, nodding a morning greeting to the scullery maid as she stopped to curtsey politely. He was honestly in a good mood that morning. Merlin had been on time this morning with his favorite breakfast, if the weather held, it would be perfect for training, and Gwen had said she would meet him later near supper time. He had a short audience with his father scheduled about the tournament planned for the week’s end. They’d already had several knights and their aids arrive at the castle but there were still things to plan before the week was out. 

He turned the corner and almost ran into his servant. “Merlin!”

The boy ducked his head. “My apologies, sire.” He tried to move past him but Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him back in front of him. Merlin was being evasive and polite, which meant there was something wrong.

“What have you done now?” Arthur asked resignedly. 

Merlin looked at the floor, fists clenching at his sides. Arthur felt the muscles flex in his arm where he still held on.

“Merlin, look at me.”

Merlin raised his head slowly and the first thing that Arthur noticed was the anger in his eyes. He’d been in a perfectly good mood this morning. Then he saw the drying blood on his bottom lip. A simmering rage rose within him before he could control himself. He was sure there was a reasonable explanation for this. He raised his hand to lift Merlin’s chin so he could better examine the wound. Merlin brushed him off irritably. 

“Did you get into a fight?” Arthur asked, putting his clues together. 

“If you could even call it that,” Merlin muttered. 

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “So someone did hit you.”

Merlin swallowed his anger and gazed bitterly at the floor. “Yeah, I’d say that’s fairly evident.”

“Well, who was it?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Oh come on, Merlin,” Arthur said. “You can tell me. I’m sure you deserved it, but people have to answer to me before they go around battering my manservant.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious,” Arthur said, lowering his voice. “Was it one of the visiting knights? I know you lot never seem to see eye to eye.” 

Merlin’s jaw clenched. “I have to go,” he said and rushed past him. 

“Merlin -” Arthur started but he’d already turned the corner. 

He sighed and began walking again. He’d never understand Merlin’s need to protect the people that hurt him. Had he always been that way, even when he was a child? Had he tried to hide his scraped knee from his mother? What was the point of it anyway? He was just being a self-sacrificial idiot for no reason. If Arthur found out who had hit his manservant they’d be sharing some words. 

He went down the stairs distractedly. 

Merlin had probably said something to offend a knight’s homeland or a nobleman’s dress. Arthur found that most people had to get used to Merlin’s inappropriate remarks. But that didn’t give them an excuse to hit him that hard. Arthur never drew blood when he ‘punished’ his servant. He mostly just thwacked him upside the head or threw pillows at him. Sure, Merlin complained, but it was usually through a grin.

He turned another corner and entered the great hall. His father was already seated at the head of the long table in the center of the room. 

“Arthur, come in, come in,” Uther beckoned. “I was just setting out the plans for the jousting portion of the tournament.” 

Arthur sat next to him and gazed over the papers. 

“Would you like to assign the rivals by coin toss or do shall we assign them by our own choosing?” Uther grinned mischievously. 

Arthur shrugged. “A coin toss seems the fairest.”

Uther’s face morphed to a serious one. “Right you are, Arthur.” He nodded and made a note. “I’m reminded every day what an honorable man you have become.” He looked at his son proudly. 

Arthur dipped his head humbly. 

The king began listing how many servants would be needed to clear each event at the tournament and Arthur chimed in occasionally, but when the topic moved to preparations for the opening ceremony, his thoughts began to wander.

Perhaps Merlin hadn’t actually gotten into a fight. Perhaps he’d slipped and fallen and hadn’t wanted to admit his foolishness. It wasn’t an outlandish possibility. Merlin was always stumbling and breaking things. His clumsiness had become somewhat of a joke around the castle. That could be why he hadn’t wanted to admit who had hit him. He hadn’t wanted to wrongly accuse anyone. Arthur should have guessed it before. 

Satisfied, Arthur turned his attention back to his meeting. His father was still going on about the visiting knights.

“... Sir Finnegan was complaining about whoever we assigned to be his secondary squire. I’ll have to talk to the servant master about replacing him. It’s so hard to find good servants these days. The mouth on some of them. Speaking of which, you need to teach your manservant some respect. Next time you see that foolish boy, tell him to watch his tongue.”

Arthur blinked in surprise. “What?”

Uther waved his hand dismissively. “Respect, Arthur. All of these young people don’t seem to know the meaning. Next time you see the boy, I would encourage you to remind him of his place. I’m not sure he took my message to heart.”

Arthur became still. He swallowed thickly, a picture forming in his mind’s eye. 

“What are you talking about,” he said carefully, but he already knew. 

“Your manservant talks out of turn far too much,” Uther scowled at his papers. He flipped through them as if he had rathered they changed the subject back to the tournament. Arthur forced himself to speak softly. His knuckles turned white on the arms of his chair. 

“Did you strike him?” His voice sounded brittle. 

His father sighed. “He all but interrupted me. He’s had trouble in the past you know -”

Arthur stood suddenly, his chair scraping against the stone floor, cutting his father off. His teeth ground together in an attempt to stop him shouting. 

“What could he have possibly said to make you-”

“Oh, I don’t remember now,” Uther said pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Arthur bit his lip before he said something that he would regret. He drew in a deep breath.

“Father,” he started as calmly as he could. “I will personally see to it that Merlin shows the appropriate amount of respect in the future. He is my servant and I take full responsibility for his actions.” He paused thinking about his next words carefully. His mind flashed with the memory of the anger in Merlin’s eyes, unable to do anything to fight back. “I would not wish to inconvenience you any further in the future. If there is a time where you feel Merlin’s respect is lacking, do not hesitate to let me know and I will attend to the matter in your stead.”

Uther’s fingers twitched indifferently. “Yes, fine, fine. Whatever you think is necessary.”

“You will excuse me,” Arthur said with a slight bow. 

Without waiting for a reply, he turned away from his father and walked stiffly out the main doors. As soon as he was clear he braced an arm against the wall and cursed under his breath. He could not tell if he was angrier at his father for beating his servant, or at Merlin for giving him the excuse. He slammed his fist against the stone and grimaced. 

The tang of iron spilled onto his tongue and he realized he’d bitten into his lip. He wiped at his mouth distractedly, staring at the crimson trail left behind on the back of his hand. He needed to see Merlin. 

The stones of the walls blurred as he rushed past them on his way to Merlin’s room. When he finally arrived at the wooden door he was nearly panting.

“Merlin?” he called as he opened the door. The man was sitting at the table pouring over a book. He slammed it shut when he heard his voice. 

“Arthur.” He got up quickly. “What’s wrong?”

Arthur opened his mouth but nothing came out. He has come down here in such a fury, but now he couldn't find words. He’d had something to say. Merlin came closer examining his face. 

“What happened to your lip?” Merlin asked, his eyebrows coming together. 

“My - Oh - nothing I just -”

“Hold on, I’ve got something for it.” Merlin jogged to a shelf of tiny clay jars and selected one. Arthur came further into the room and leaned against the table, watching him work. 

Merlin tugged off his neckerchief and dipped the cprner of the fabric into the jar as he walked over to Arthur. He reached out and dabbed at Arthur’s lip gently with the medicine. Arthur stood still. Merlin's tongue poked out his teeth in concentration and drew Arthur's attention to Merlin’s own injury. He’d cleaned himself up a bit so only a thin slit of red could be seen on his lower lip. The beginnings of a small bruise circled the corner of his mouth. Arthur closed his eyes against the sight as guilt bubbled in the back of his throat. 

Merlin stepped back to admire his handiwork. “So did you just want to match or…”

Arthur smiled despite himself, the action tugging at the tear in his skin. Merlin replaced the jar on the shelf and threw his neckerchief on the table haphazardly. He smiled at him. Arthur tried to get back to the matter at hand.

“Merlin.” Arthur swallowed nervously. “I know who hit you.”

Merlin’s smile faded. “Well, your deductive reasoning is certainly improving, sire. Can’t get anything past you.”

“Why do you insist on angering him?”

“It’s not like I invited it!” he said defensively. He turned to the side and displayed his cheek with a flourish of his hand. “I didn’t say, ‘Please, my king. I need some of my teeth knocked out.’”

Arthur grimaced. “Merlin I’m serious. You have to control yourself around him. I can’t -” he broke off and took a deep breath. He could not always be there to drag him away before he said something. Could he even stop his father if he’d already made the decision to hit him? Would he have just watched it happened?

“Hey,” Merlin said softly, his demeanor shifting. “It’s not your fault.”

“I am responsible for you.”

“I make my own decisions,” Merlin assured him. “And I am perfectly capable of handly whatever Uther Pendragon can throw at me.”

Arthur looked into his eyes and saw confidence there. Probably unjustified confidence, but it made Arthur smile all the same. 

“Just promise me you’ll make an effort,” Arthur urged. 

Merlin shook his head and smiled sadly. “I’ll do my very best, Arthur.”

Arthur’s fists relaxed minimally. That was going to be the best he was ever going to get. The truth was he didn’t really want Merlin to stop. Of course, he’d have rathered Merlin not get slapped for speaking his mind, but he would never dream of having him stop entirely. Arthur would never admit it out loud but he liked hearing what Merlin had to say. He had a unique perspective, so different from the nobles and royalty he had grown up with. Merlin kept him grounded, kept him humbled, kept him sane, despite what he told him whenever he was being particularly foolish. 

Merlin looked at him thoughtfully, the slightest of smiles still on his lips. Arthur felt his chest constrict.

“Will you…” Arthur hesitated, hating how his voice wavered. “Please tell me if he does this again. I - I know you are your own person and you don’t need me to -” Arthur stopped, unsure of where he was going with this. Merlin was not a damsel in distress in need of rescuing but damn it if that’s not how Arthur felt sometimes. He tried to start over. “I’ve told him that I will be overseeing your punishments from now on.” The corners of Merlin’s lips twitched upward. “But in the case that he does not remember…”

He gazed imploringly at Merlin. “You’ll tell me, right?”

Merlin’s fingers twitched at his sides. He nodded reluctantly. Arthur sighed with a strange relief. He would do his best to make sure that this didn’t happen again, but Merlin had to do his part as well. They smiled at each other. Merlin really did need to learn when to keep his mouth shut, though.

Chapter Text

Arthur sat and watched as Merlin winced, gingerly closing the door to the physician’s quarters. Shadows moved across his servant’s pale face making him look sickly and gaunt and Arthur could only imagine what sort of troubling activities he'd been participating in to make him so late. Merlin tiptoed his way through the dark over to the shelf where they kept all their medicines. Of course, the fool had injured himself again.

“If I were an assassin, you’d be dead,” Arthur finally said. 

Merlin yelped and shoved his hands behind his back like a child caught stealing sweets. “Arthur! You scared me half to death.”

Arthur lit the candles beside him. Merlin’s panicked eyes became illuminated by a soft yellow glow. 

“What are you doing here?” Merlin said cautiously, trying very hard not to glance around the room for a different surprise. 

“Why, I was waiting for you, of course,” Arthur said with fake pleasantness. 

Merlin chuckled weakly. “You really don’t have to do that, sire.”

“Oh, but it appears that I do,” Arthur countered. “It’s a shame really, that I must go to such lengths to secure the whereabouts of my manservant. You see, he so often goes missing.”

“Where’s Gaius?” he asked nervously.

“I believe he is still assisting in the delivery of Sir Harding’s baby.”

Merlin’s eyes lit up. “Estrilda’s having her baby? Oh, that’s wonderful. I should go and help.”

“You will stay right here,” Arthur demanded. Merlin visibly wilted. “I’m sure Gaius is more than capable of doing it without you.”

Merlin looked dejectedly at the floor. 

“Where were you tonight?”

“Um, the stables.”

“You were in the stables in the middle of the night?” He stared inquisitively at his servant. 

“I was bored.”

“So you went to the stables?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Merlin said defensively.

Arthur sighed. This was going nowhere. He’d have to try something else. “Why do you have your hands behind your back?”

Merlin’s eyebrows raised. “What? Nothing - no reason. It’s comfortable.” Arthur stared at him, his eyelids half-closed, unimpressed. “What? Now I can’t put my hands behind my back?”

“Not when you’re being stupid.”

“Fine.” Merlin threw his arms out to his sides. “Are you happy now?”

Arthur scanned Merlin for anything else suspicious. He’d pulled his sleeves down so only the tips of his fingers were showing. Perhaps Merlin thought him a fool. 

“No. Not really.” He stood from his seat and stalked toward the other man. Merlin took an involuntary step backward as Arthur got closer. He stopped two feet before him.

“Merlin, would you be so kind as to show me your hands?”

“My hands?”

Arthur clenched his own in frustration. “Merlin,” he warned. 

Merlin pouted but stretched out his arms to reveal two bloody palms. 

“Merlin!” Arthur said again, this time in alarm. He turned in a half-circle before he located the water basin. He grabbed a mostly clean rag and soaked it through, turning back to his pouting servant. “I really can’t leave you alone for one second can I?”

Merlin made minimal sounds of protest that Arthur didn’t bother to listen to. 

“Let me see.” He took one of Merlin’s wounded hands in his own and tried to wipe away the blood to actually see what he was dealing with. It looked as if it was a single clean gash across his entire palm. Merlin hissed when he got too close to the open wound. “Don’t be such an infant, Merlin,” he muttered, but he tried to be more careful. 

He moved to the other hand before his interrogation began. 

“Would you like to explain to me how this happened?” He dabbed gingerly around the split skin near the edge of his palm. It was strange, but the two cuts looked almost identical. 

“Not really.” Arthur paused to look at him dangerously. Merlin rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t paying attention and I cut myself on a sword.” 

Arthur set the bloody rag aside and searched through the bottles and jars on the shelf beside him. He knew Merlin had a healing salve of some kind he just couldn’t remember what it looked like. 

Merlin nodded to his left. “The one with the green lid.” 

Arthur picked it out and unscrewed the lid. He put a bit of the mixture on the end of his finger and took Merlin’s hand in his again. 

“Why did you have a sword in the stables?”

“I, um, wasn’t in the - Ah - I was in the armory.” Merlin winced as Arthur spread the salve on the cut. 

“Then why did you say you were in the stables?” Arthur asked, moving to the other hand. 

Merlin blinked a few times. “I was in the stables. I was in the armory and then the stables and then I came here.”

“So let me see if I have the sequence of events down correctly,” Arthur said. “You cut your hands in the armory and think to yourself, ‘You know what would fix this? Horses.’ And then only after that, do you come back here to tend to your wounds.”

Merlin opened his mouth and then closed it. 

“You think about that,” Arthur said, turning to replace the jar back on the shelf. He looked around. “Where do you keep your bandages?”

“Cabinet on your right,” Merlin said distantly. Arthur could practically smell the smoke coming from his ears, he was thinking so hard. He searched through the cabinet until he found what he was looking for. He took an acceptable length of the material and began bandaging his servant’s hands. 

“You know, Arthur it’s late, I was confused earlier,” Merlin began hesitantly as Arthur finished up the first hand. “I actually went to the stables first, then the armory.”

Merlin smiled at him as Arthur finished the second hand. Arthur straightened and gazed at him as if he were a disappointed parent. 

“One day Merlin, you will tell me the truth without any prompting.” 

“Arthur I -”

“I look forward to that day, I truly do.” Arthur grasped his shoulder fondly despite himself. “And I hope whatever the truth is, it’s absolutely ridiculous, and I won't believe you. I love a good ironic joke now and again.” 

Merlin swallowed and tensed beneath his touch. He gave his shoulder a consoling pat before turning toward the door. 

“Have a good night, Merlin. Heal up. I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast. Don’t be late.” He did not wait for a reply as he exited the room, leaving Merlin to stare numbly at the place where he had been only seconds before. 

Chapter Text

“Arthur!” Merlin burst into his chambers, wild-eyed and manic. 

Arthur looked up from his maps irritably. “Would it kill you to knock every now and then. I could have been indecent.”

Merlin slammed the doors shut behind him, looking around the room wildly. “I’ve seen you indecent a bunch of times,” he muttered. Arthur scowled. 

“What are you doing here? I gave you the evening off.” Arthur rose from his desk, watching as Merlin crossed the room to his wardrobe. He ripped the doors open with a flourish, pushing aside some clothes before he closing the doors again. He turned around and swayed on the spot, blinking rapidly as if he had something in his eye. He looked at Arthur warily. 

“Have you seen anything suspicious lately?” he asked, his eyes darting side to side.

“You mean besides you?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed and pointed to himself in disbelief. “Me? I’m not suspicious,” he slurred. He poked himself in the chest again and hiccuped. “I’m an open book.” He stared at Arthur before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Merlin are you drunk?”

Merlin shook his head roughly. “Nooooooooo. I would never - I’m the soberest I’ve ever been.” 

Arthur sighed and looked him over head to toe. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with him physically, but Merlin was clearly inebriated somehow.

“Perhaps you should lie down before you hurt yourself,” Arthur said, gesturing to his bed vaguely. Merlin’s eyes widened, a grin spilling over his face.

“The bed! Arthur, you’re a genius!” He rushed over to the four-poster bed and dropped to the ground so quickly Arthur thought he had fallen. He popped up again with a frown. “There’s nothing under the bed.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m going to need some wine if you’re going to continue like this.” He walked over to the table where his food had been left.

Merlin stumbled forward. “Who brought that? I didn’t bring you food.”

“Yes Merlin, we’ve been over this, I gave you the night off,” Arthur reminded. He’d known Merlin to be slow but he was not normally like this. He must have really abused his tab at the tavern this evening. Merlin didn’t appear to have heard him. He tripped over himself trying to get to the table. 

“Did you see who brought you this?” Merlin sniffed at a sausage suspiciously. 

“No, it was here when I got here.”

Merlin picked up a bread roll and glared at it. “Did you eat any of it?”

Arthur picked up his goblet and sighed. He was too tired for this. “No, I just got back and I wanted to finish some things before I ate.” He brought the cup to his lips. 

“No!” Merlin slapped the cup from his hand. It clanged on the floor, wine spilling everywhere.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled. “What is wrong with you?”

His servant glared at the spilled wine as if it wasn’t entirely all his fault that it was all over the floor. He looked back at Arthur seriously. 

“It’s bad wine,” he said in a stage whisper. 

Arthur pointed an angry finger at his friend. “You’re cleaning that up.”

“No, Arthur, listen.” Merlin lunged forward, grabbing at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Merlin-”

“Someone is trying to poison you!” Merlin said, shaking him slightly. Arthur stilled. He peered at Merlin closely. His eyes were dilated and his breath smelled like flowers. What kind of ale smelled like a rose garden? He gripped the young man’s shoulders and pulled him gently away from him.

“That’s a very serious accusation, Merlin,” he said softly. Arthur eyed the plate on the table suspiciously. It looked normal, but it was a little odd that it had just been left for him. “What proof do you have of this?”

Merlin blinked and opened and closed his mouth twice, his eyes traveling back and forth as he was watching an argument play out in his mind. Merlin scrunched his nose adorably and tried to lean in closer to Arthur. 

“I just can tell,” he whispered into his ear slowly. Arthur felt an uncomfortable heat rise in his neck. He cleared his throat. 

“Merlin -” he started gently. 

“You don’t believe me,” Merlin said, his eyes watering.

“No, stop, that’s not it,” Arthur assured him quickly. He did not know what was wrong with his servant but he did not have the emotional capacity at the moment to deal with a weepy Merlin. Someone was apparently trying to kill him. He had to focus. “It’s not that I don’t believe you…”

Merlin pulled away. “Think, think, think,” Merlin muttered. He hit the palm of his hand against his forehead as if he could activate his brain by blunt force. “What would Merlin do?”

Arthur’s eyes widened. Speaking in the third person was never a good sign. He wondered if Gaius was still awake at this hour and how much effort it would take to drag Merlin to him while he was like this.

“Wait!” Merlin said excitedly, eyes wide with epiphany. “I can fix this. I can fix me. ” 

Arthur stared at him open-mouthed. Merlin rushed to the table, picking up the plate of food and striding over to the fire. Without preamble, Merlin threw his supper into the flames. He stumbled back to Arthur and pointed at him sternly. His eyes crossed just enough to be noticeable. 

“I have to go for a second but I will be right back. Don’t move.” 

He turned a strode out the door as quickly as he had come in. Arthur stood frozen for a moment. His eyes moved to the shadowy corners of his room warily. If Merlin was to be believed, someone was trying to kill him. Then again, Merlin seemed to be rather out of his mind this evening. Perhaps he’d been working him too hard.

Arthur strode over to his bedside table and opened the drawer. He took out the knife hidden there and placed it on the table’s surface. He sat on his bed and looked around again. At least now if someone attacked him he’d have a weapon ready. He jumped as something in the fireplace popped and crackled. 

Arthur took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves. He didn’t know why he was so jumpy. He had no real evidence of anything sinister going on. He just had Merlin’s word and the burning remains of his supper. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there but his thoughts began to wonder where Merlin had gone and what he had been talking about when he had said he was going to ‘fix’ himself. Arthur prided himself on knowing his servant like the back of his hand but he had to admit that he had not seen this behavior in Merlin before. Now that he thought about it, for all the time Merlin spent in the tavern, Arthur didn’t think he’d ever seen the man drunk. Perhaps this is just how he normally acted when he was inebriated.

He jumped again as Merlin burst into the room, a new meal in hand. Merlin’s gaze fell on Arthur’s. 

“I told you not to move,” he said tersely. His voice sounded clearer. 

“Merlin, what is going on?”

“Don’t worry, Arthur, I’ve got it all taken care of.” Merlin strode confidently into the room and placed the platter on his bedside table, taking up the knife Arthur had set out and returning it to the drawer. “You won’t be needing that,” Merlin said matter of factly. His entire demeanor had changed. His steps were sure, his eyes were clear. Arthur still didn’t have any answers.

“So, no more poison then,” Arthur said slowly, his eyes following Merlin as he tidied up the room. He checked behind the curtains for something. 

“Of course not. Everything is fine,” Merlin assured. He ran his hand along the mantelpiece carefully. 

“What are you looking for?”

Merlin smiled pleasantly. “Nothing for you to worry about, sire. Just lie back and eat your supper. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.” He strode over to the other window and stuck his head out. Arthur heard him say something unintelligible.

“What did you -”

A scream sounded just outside his window. Arthur jumped up in surprise. Merlin pulled his head back into the room and closed the curtains. 

“What the hell was that?” Arthur said. 

Merlin looked at him unfazed. “Someone was climbing the tall tree right outside. I told him to stop. I must have startled him because he fell. I’ll go make sure he’s okay.” He made his way over to the door without any further explanation. He paused at the threshold. “Do you know if Lancelot is on patrol tonight?”

Arthur was at a loss for words. “ I - what are you - I think so.”

Merlin smiled. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, sire.” He opened the door. “Don’t forget to eat your supper.” He closed the door behind him. 

Arthur stared at the aged wood of his door for a long time, bewildered. The fire dimmed in the hearth and he shook himself. He had a very strong and immediate urge to get drunk.

Chapter Text

Arthur walked down the hall, nodding politely to bowing servants as he passed. Sir Leon had asked him to come on patrol and Arthur was in need of his servant. He turned the corner and saw that the physician’s door was wide open. That was usually a good indicator that he was there. Perhaps, for once, Arthur would not have to scour every inch of the castle to find Merlin. He came up on the doorway but stopped short when he heard his servant’s pained voice.

“Ow!” 

“Hold still,” came Gaius’s chastising tone. Arthur pressed himself to the wall and strained his ears. What had his servant gotten himself into this time?

“I am holding still!” Merlin yelped. “Maybe you’re just not a very good physician!” Arthur imagined the stern look that Gaius gave him in the silence that followed, the piercing glare, the single raised eyebrow.

 “Sorry.”

“Yes, well… perhaps next time you’ll be more careful,” Gaius said. 

“I was careful!” Merlin pouted childishly. 

Arthur heard Gaius sigh. “Well, I am just glad you’re okay.” There was silence for a while and Arthur nearly revealed himself, but then Merlin spoke again. 

“You should have seen it, Gaius.” Merlin’s voice held a wonder that Arthur rarely heard from anyone. “It was the brightest thing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Amazing.” Gaius hummed quietly in acknowledgment. “When I held it - ow! Gaius, I’m begging you.”

Gaius grumbled unsympathetically. “Do you want to do this?”

“No.”

“Alright then, stop complaining.” Arthur heard the clinking of clay bowls hitting a table.

What were they talking about? Arthur racked his brains but nothing seemed to fit the minimal clues he’d been given. 

“Anyway, I don’t know how I will get through the next few days without anyone noticing,” Merlin said dejectedly. “I know Arthur will notice. What should I tell - Ow! Gaius, please!”

Arthur’s fists clenched. He’d heard enough. If Merlin wanted to hide things from him, so be it. What did he care if Merlin never told him what was wrong? Merlin didn’t have any obligation to tell him anything. That wasn’t part of his job. So if he never wanted to confide in him, then that was fine, but that didn’t mean Arthur wouldn’t find a way to make it as difficult as he could. Arthur wasted no time storming into the room.

“Arthur,” Merlin said in surprise just as he whipped his arm behind his back. Arthur raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Merlin must be having an off-day if this meager attempt at deceit was the best he could come up with. 

Gaius shook his head at Merlin. “How many times must I remind you to close the door!”

“That wasn’t me!” Merlin spluttered. 

“You were the last one to come in here!”

Arthur cleared his throat forcefully, looking between the two men in annoyance. “Would someone please like to explain what is going on here?”

Merlin glanced nervously at Gaius before turning back to Arthur. “Well, Gaius was just helping me with, um - Well, you see, I’ve injured myself.”

“Yes, I think that is fairly evident,” Arthur said. 

“He will be fine, sire,” Gaius butted in, smiling placatingly. 

Arthur waved a dismissive hand and breathed in, gathering the strength to hide his frustration, though he didn’t know why he bothered. They should know that they angered him. He had every right to give them both a piece of his mind. He walked further into the room, stopping as he approached the table they were all crowded around.

“Let’s see it then.” Arthur looked expectantly at Merlin. His servant stuttered incoherently for a few moments before Arthur cut him off. “No, really. If you’re so keen on hiding it from me I know it must be spectacular,” he seethed. “So let’s see it. Show it off. What have you done to yourself now?”

He glared at Merlin. The boy’s eyes were pleading, but Arthur wasn’t going to back down, not from the blatant falsehoods that Merlin always seemed to be spouting. Merlin returned his gaze for as long as he dared. Finally, he dropped his eyes to the floor and took his arm from behind his back.

His hand looked raw, the flesh pink and blistering over his palm. The marks continued in an odd spiraling pattern trailing up his forearm. Arthur winced, despite his anger, when he saw it. It looked like one of the worst burns he’d ever seen. 

“Good lord,” he said, the ferocity melting out of his voice in his surprise. “Did you boil your hand?”

Merlin raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “No.”

Gaius gave Merlin a pointed look that expressed what a perfect opportunity he had just let pass by. 

Merlin’s eyes widened. “I mean - Is that what it looks like to you?”

Arthur brought his hands up to his face but was too exasperated to actually but his head in hands. His fingers floated by his temples in a distressed limbo. “I don’t know what it looks like, but now I know it wasn’t that!”

Merlin stared dumbly at him. 

“I mean it is truly a miracle that you’ve lived this long without a brain,” Arthur muttered to himself, finally lowering his hands in defeat. 

“I tell him that myself on occasion,” Gaius said.

“Oh, don’t you start,” Arthur said, rounding on the old physician. “You’re just as bad as he is.” Gaius lowered his head. Arthur turned back to Merlin. “No, I’d really like to know what you can come up with on your own. How did you hurt yourself this time?” His eyes flashed in challenge, daring Merlin to take the bait. Arthur knew he was lying. Merlin knew that he knew. He’d be mad to try and keep up this stupid charade. 

“I, um,” Merlin started. Arthur raised his eyebrows, prompting him to finish his thought. “I tripped on the corner of the table - I started to fall but I caught myself - the stove was right there and…” Merlin slowed, trying to gauge whether his tale was persuading anyone. “And I burned my hand,” he finished lamely. 

Arthur blinked at Merlin. Then he looked at Gaius. They stared back at him silently, waiting for his reaction. He looked between them once more before reaching a conclusion in his mind. Arthur slowly started backing away from them both. 

“I’m going to forget that this happened,” he said softly, his voice distant and airy. He gazed at an interesting stone in the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them. Let them do whatever they want. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Bandage yourself up. Put a glove on. I don’t want to see it.” Merlin opened his mouth to speak but Arthur raised a hand to stop him before he hurt himself or caused Arthur to do even more damage. “I will see you tomorrow,” he said with finality. He turned and left through the open door. 

Arthur could stand to go on patrol without Merlin for once. It would be good for his health not to see his servant for a few hours, anyway. 

Chapter Text

Merlin groaned from atop his horse for the fifth time that afternoon. Arthur and Gwaine shared a concerned glance. Merlin did not appear to be well.

Arthur and his knights were on their way back home after a job well done. Thankfully, they defeated the old crone without any casualties or injuries. Arthur had made sure this time. The second he knew the witch had been bested he had checked his servant from head to toe for any bumps and bruises. To his great relief, he had found none. But now he wished he had checked him over more thoroughly. 

Arthur held up his hand to halt the procession. “Alright. Let’s take a short break here.”

Most of his knights dismounted, as did Arthur. He gave the reins of his horse to Elyan before turning around to evaluate his moaning servant.

Merlin had slumped forward in the saddle, his face pressing into the neck of his horse. 

“Merlin,” Arthur uttered softly as he got closer. Merlin did not stir. He reached out grasped his knee. “Merlin.” 

The boy groaned again and lifted his head. Arthur scowled in concern when he saw the man’s face. The skin around Merlin’s eyes was red and irritated but he tried valiantly to focus his gaze enough to meet Arthur’s. His hair was plastered to his forehead and sweat ran in droplets along his jaw. He looked miserable. Arthur told him so. Merlin just moaned in response. 

Arthur frowned. He’d been fine just hours ago. What could possibly have made him so ill in such a short amount of time? He reached out to feel his sweaty forehead. 

“For God’s sake, Merlin,” Arthur muttered. “You’re burning. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin attempted a small smile. “I’ve been moaning for the past hour. I thought you would have noticed.” He grimaced then, making a pitiful sound of distress and pressing his nose into the mane of his horse. 

Arthur bit his lip anxiously. Merlin was never one to share his pain so flagrantly. He’d known him to try and hide an actual stab wound before. The fact that Merlin was verbally expressing his discomfort did not bode well for his general health. 

He put a comforting hand on his servant’s arm. “Merlin, can you tell me what’s wrong with you?”

Merlin scrunched his face in pain. “My body hurts and my head feels like it’s simultaneously going to explode and cave in at the same time,” he gritted out. 

Arthur sighed and gave him one last consolatory pat before saying, “Alright, just wait here just a second.” 

Merlin grunted in response. Arthur took a few steps back before turning and locating Leon. He beckoned him over with a wary glance at the rest of his men. Most of them were enjoying the ground time, horsing around and swapping jokes, bust some of them were casting curious looks at Merlin’s slumped form. Leon approached him with raised eyebrows. 

“We may have to stop,” Arthur said quietly, gazing about their small party anxiously.

Leon frowned. “Sire, is this because of Merlin?”

“Well, just look at him.” Arthur’s voice went up higher than he had planned. He cleared his throat. “He’s in no state to travel.”

“With all due respect, sire, none of us are trained physicians. We’re only five hours from home. Would it not be better to ride now and get Merlin to Gaius as quickly as possible?”

Arthur looked back to his servant, shivering on his horse, and ran a hand through his hair. This was not his area of expertise and a wrong decision would only bring more pain to his friend. Sometimes he wished someone else could tell everyone what to do instead of it being his responsibility. He looked back at Leon. 

“Let me ask him.” The least he could do was give Merlin a say. He left Leon and hurried over to his servant. “Merlin?” he asked gently. Merlin grunted. Arthur hesitated before he spoke. “We can stop and rest here or we can try and keep going. You need to see Gaius immediately.” Merlin moaned in agreement. “Do you think you’re okay to keep going?” Arthur coaxed. 

“‘M fine,” Merlin slurred. “I can keep going, urgh.” His assurance was lessened slightly by the pained grunt at the end but Arthur was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He started chewing his lip again. Merlin was decidedly not fine, but the sooner they got to Gaius’s practiced care, the sooner Merlin would get better. 

“Alright, but you’re riding up at the front with me so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Yes, mum,” Merlin mumbled deliriously. 

Arthur gave the order and soon they were back on the road again, Arthur and Merlin leading the procession, followed closely by Leon and Gwaine. Arthur trusted them to keep an eye on his servant when he could not. 

They were making pretty good time at the beginning. The horses kept a steady pace and the skies were clear. Under normal circumstances, Arthur would have enjoyed the ride. As it was, every grunt and groan that passed Merlin’s lips was a blow to his resolve. 

He glanced at his friend again as they rounded a bend in the trail. He looked like he was going to vomit but Merlin had given no indication that he was nauseous. His eyes kept falling closed and he slumped in his saddle like he was going to fall unconscious. Arthur Still, Arthur pressed on. The best thing he could do was get him home. 

They rode for another three hours, Arthur checking in with his servant every once and a while to gauge how he was doing. The other knights were blissfully quiet as they rode. Arthur did not have the energy to deal with random suggestions and conjectures while also worrying about his friend. 

They were a little more than an hour away from Camelot when Merlin slumped to the side of his saddle dangerously. Only Arthur’s quick reflexes and practiced handling of his own horse kept Merlin from falling off his. Gwaine quickly dismounted and helped Arthur right Merlin on his saddle. His knights reined in their horses as the procession was brought to a halt. 

“‘M fine, ‘s alright,” Merlin said when he came back to himself with two other people propping him up.

Arthur cursed to himself. He would have to ride with Merlin to make sure he didn’t fall off and kill himself. He made sure Merlin was steady with Gwaine before he himself dismounted. He had one hand already on Merlin’s saddle before he realized what he was doing.  

What was he thinking? He couldn’t ride with Merlin. Not here in front of everyone. With a slight cough, he let go of the saddle and gestured for Gwaine. 

“You’ll ride with him,” he ordered quietly. “Make sure he doesn’t break his neck.”

Gwaine nodded seriously. Arthur looked to Leon to take care of Gwaine’s horse before getting back onto his. When he looked over to Merlin again, Gwaine’s arms were wrapped around him, a steady anchor of which he was in desperate need. 

Merlin only protested minimally, his body slumping into the support of Gwaine’s chest nearly as soon as it was available. Arthur grimaced when the knight had to shift Merlin’s weight almost immediately as he swerved to the side. There was clearly no time to wait. 

Arthur spurred his horse forward and they were off, once again. Arthur tried to keep his eyes from traveling too often to his friend but his small groans and delirious murmurs kept drawing his attention. 

It wasn’t that Merlin hadn’t been sick before. He’d get colds with the weather and he tended to have a particularly sensitive stomach for a servant. But despite past experiences, it did not make it any easier to see him so unhealthy now. A battle wound he could handle. Bumps and bruises were minor inconveniences. But Arthur did not have the first clue of what to do to combat a fever. It made Arthur’s blood simmer that he could do absolutely nothing. So when the towers of the castle came into view, Arthur breathed a little easier. 

Unfortunately, Merlin’s health was not improving. His mutterings were increasing in frequency and Gwaine had to keep a tight hold around his waist for fear of him tumbling over. Arthur began to want to block out the sounds when at last Merlin gave the most pitiful whimper he’d ever heard. Arthur’s simmering blood ran cold. He could not stand to see him suffer any further, not when they were this close. 

“Gwaine, ride ahead,” he said suddenly, coming to a decision. Arthur would have gladly taken Merlin himself but he had men to lead. Merlin would be fine, though. He trusted Gwaine with his friend as much as anyone. “Get him to Gaius with all the haste your horse will allow.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Gwaine gripped Merlin tighter and split off out of formation. In a blink, they were racing through the lower towns. 

Arthur straightened his shoulders and kicked his horse into a trot. The procession would not be able to keep up with Gwaine but they could shorten the distance by a fraction. 

Arthur gazed along the road ahead and tried to calm his nerves. Everything would be fine. He would see Merlin soon. He would recover, he was sure of it. 

Chapter Text

“Merlin?” Arthur called into his empty room. Nothing answered him. He should have been here by now. Arthur stood from his desk and strode out of his room and into the hall. He stopped and asked random people if they had seen tardy manservant. He was beginning to lose hope until a passing page pointed him toward the physician’s quarters. 

He quickly changed his course. Merlin had better have a good excuse for making him search every inch of the castle to find him. He stormed into the old man’s rooms without bothering to knock, fully prepared to yell for his servant, but Merlin was already right there in plain view, sitting at the table under Gaius’s attentive care. 

“What did you do to yourself now?” Arthur nearly whined. 

Merlin looked up from his seat. He’d hurt his left arm. Gaius had just finished tying the sling around his neck.

“Arthur.” Merlin brushed off the old physician and stood. “I’m sorry I was late. I broke my arm at the training grounds, or else I would have come to get you your lunch.”

Arthur held up a hand to try and pause the conversation. “You broke your arm?”

“Well, yeah.” He looked at Gaius questioningly to see if he had been unclear. The old man shrugged and went about tidying up his workspace. 

“How did you break your arm?” Arthur asked suspiciously. 

“I fell off a horse.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Come on, Merlin. Just tell me the truth for once.”

“I did!” Merlin said indignantly.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” Merlin asked. 

“You know perfectly well why I don’t believe you. I have every right to be suspicious of everything that comes out of your mouth,” Arthur growled.

Hurt flickered across Merlin’s features before he lowered his face to the ground. “That’s what happened,” he muttered sullenly. Arthur sighed. Merlin’s head shot up, a wild grin spreading across his face. “And I can prove it. Come on.” 

Merlin surged forward and grabbed Arthur’s hand with his good arm, pulling him toward the exit. Arthur stumbled into the hallway and wrestled with his servant as gently as he could.

“Merlin let go of me, I -” He cut himself off to smile awkwardly at a kitchen servant. Her eyes widened before she promptly turned around back the way she came. Great. Now he’d have to deal with kitchen gossip. 

“Merlin!” he hissed. His servant never seemed to understand what sort of image he had to uphold while they were in the castle. 

“Fine.” Merlin let go of his hand. “But you have to follow me.” He sped off down the hall leaving Arthur little option but to follow him or be left standing in the middle of the corridor like a fool. 

Arthur ground his teeth together as he took a step forward. He was going to kill him. 

Arthur hurried after him, swearing under his breath. Merlin had just broken his arm for God’s sake and he was still outpacing him. Most of the servants and advisors seemed to know to get out of Merlin’s frenzied path and pressed themselves to the walls as they passed. Arthur barely acknowledged their attempted bows and curtsies. Merlin burst out of the castle doors and into the training courtyard where several of his knights were sparring with each other. 

“Merlin, would you hold on for just a second,” Arthur said. 

Merlin slowed and looked back. 

“What are you doing?”

“I told you,” Merlin said. “I’m going to prove that I’m telling the truth.” 

“Oi, Merlin.” The knights had noticed the servant’s arrival. Sir Alwin smiled lazily at them as he leant on his sword. “That was some spectacle earlier. Are you going to give us another show?” He and his fellow knights chuckled lightly. 

Arthur scowled and shoved his way in front of his servant. The knights quieted. He turned back to his servant. 

“Did they put you up to something?” he questioned seriously. “I’ve told you not to take them up on any of their stupid dares.” He shot an accusatory glance at the gathered men. 

“Arthur, calm down. It was really all my fault,” Merlin insisted, resting his good hand on Arthur’s shoulder placatingly. 

Arthur’s teeth ground together. “What, and they just watched you break yourself?”

“Well, there wasn’t much we could do, sire,” Sir Hywel explained sheepishly. “He got his foot caught in the stirrup and fell. We picked him up and dusted him off as much as we could -”

“But then I could tell his arm was broken,” Alwin said proudly. 

“Yes, you sound like you were very helpful,” sneered Arthur. If he had been there -

“Arthur,” Merlin chastised, his fingers digging into his shoulder forcefully. Arthur turned to gaze at him. Merlin shook his head slightly. 

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered halfheartedly to his knights. “As you were.”

His men inclined their heads respectively before turning and resuming their earlier exercises. 

“I told you I was telling the truth,” Merlin said after they had stepped a respectful distance away. 

Arthur pursed his lips defiantly. “Yes, well… you were lucky there were witnesses or else I would have had no choice but to put you in the stocks for trying to deceive me. Do you understand?”

Merlin grinned. “Of course, my liege .” 

Arthur slapped him gently upside the head. “You know I hate it when you do that voice.”

“ It has been noted, my liege. ”

“Merlin!”

Chapter Text

Arthur marched down through the courtyard. He’d told Merlin to muck out the stables as punishment for being late earlier that morning but now his servant was late with his dinner as a result. He had to think of a better system here, or perhaps, someone could just gift Merlin a sense of timeliness and they would never have to be in this position again. The familiar smell of the stables greeted his nose as he got closer. He had to figure out what he was going to say. If he told him he was late then Merlin would just blame it on Arthur for giving him extra tasks. Arthur could pull an ‘I’m the king of Camelot, you must do as I say’ but that very rarely worked on his stubborn servant. 

Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and Arthur wiped at his brow. It was absolutely sweltering and the trek down to the stables was doing nothing to alleviate his body temperature. What he wouldn’t give for a cooling bath. Perhaps after he finally got his dinner. 

The smell of damp hay and horse manure began to permeate the air as he drew closer. A servant boy led a horse out of the stable doors. 

“Good evening, your majesty,” he bowed politely. 

“Evening,” Arthur returned. “Is Merlin still in there?”

“Yes, my lord.” The boy brushed the damp hair from his eyes. His cheeks were flushed from the heat. 

“Is it still a mess in there?”

The boy shifted the reins in his hands nervously. “I could gather a few of the other stable boys to assist -”

Arthur shook his head. “Not to worry…” Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“Derek, my lord.” The boy’s ears had turned pink.

“Thank you, Derek. You’ve been a lovely conversationalist.”

The boy stuttered thanks and bowed again. Arthur moved past him and entered the stables. It was dimly lit by a few lanterns, the setting sun lending little light through the open windows and cracks within the walls. It seemed to be even hotter inside the wooden walls if that was even possible. Most of the horses were in their stalls for the night. The floors didn’t look too bad honestly. Arthur wasn’t surprised. Merlin usually did at least an average job at most things involving manual labor. What did surprise Arthur was the fact that Merlin had taken off his shirt to do it. 

Merlin hadn’t seen him come in yet, the pale expanse of his back was turned away from him as he shoveled filth into a pile. He was absolutely drenched in sweat, every inch of skin Arthur could see glistening in the dim light of the lanterns. Merlin straightened and wiped his forehead, his sides expanding as he panted a breath. Arthur looked away and had a strange and pressing urge to leave immediately before Merlin saw him. 

“Arthur,” Merlin panted. He slowly turned to face his half-naked servant. Merlin smiled at him. There was a stripe of dirt along his jaw. 

“You’ve got no shirt on,” Arthur said stupidly, immediately wanting to kick himself. 

Merlin chuckled. “Very astute observation, my lord. It’s the hottest day of the year. Everyone’s saying so. You want me to muck out this entire stable and faint from the heat.” 

He set his shovel against a stall wall and walked past Arthur to get to a water bucket set on a stool. Arthur tried to look at the floor or the ceiling or - why was he being strange like this? This was Merlin. He’d just never seen him without a shirt was all. It was just different. 

Merlin raised the ladle to his lips. “What can I do for you now, my lord?” Merlin asked between gulps of water.

Arthur tried to regain some of his composure. “I will be in need of a supper at some point in the evening.”

“Couldn’t wait for me to finish?” Merlin smiled. 

Arthur swallowed. Had Merlin’s shoulders always been that broad? Good god, get a hold of yourself. He forced himself to focus.

“I’d rather you just get things done on time,” said Arthur mildly. 

“There were unusual working conditions,” Merlin said. He took a neckerchief from his pocket and dunked it in the water bucket. He wrung it out and wiped his face and the back of his neck while he waited for Arthur’s response. Arthur didn’t have one. What had they been talking about again? 

Merlin cocked his head to the side. “You alright?” 

Arthur’s gaze kept darting down to his chest inadvertently. “I’m fine.” Stop. Just focus. But he couldn’t. He’d never seen Merlin without his shirt before and he’d never seen all the marks left on his body. 

There were two straight lines stretched over his navel, just barely darker than the rest of his skin. On the ridge of his hip, a small red scar sat, raised and angry. A strange, runic shape was etched into the tight skin of his sternum. Arthur couldn’t stop staring.

He watched Merlin rub at his shoulder with a slight grimace. He was probably sore from shoveling all day. Actually, it looked like there was another mark he’d missed on his first inspection. He peered at it curiously.

Arthur needed to break the silence. “What’s that on your shoulder?” he asked. Arms he could deal with. He’d seen Merlin’s arms before, right? Merlin looked at his opposite arm. 

“Where?”

Arthur stepped forward and grabbed the afflicted appendage. “Here, you idiot.” A dotted patchwork of purple and raised skin curved up his shoulder and then came down again. “What happened there?” 

His arm glistened as he moved to look. Merlin frowned. 

“It was a dog,” he muttered. 

“A dog did that?” Arthur scoffed. He examined the scars again. If that was a bite radius, this dog must have had the widest jaws in the entire world. It looked as if a manticore had used him as a toothpick. 

“It was a big dog,” Merlin said.

“How did it get all the way up to your shoulder?” Arthur released his grip on his arm. 

“It was a big dog.”

“Merlin!”

His servant grinned and took up his shovel again. “I was easily accessible when it happened.” He began shoveling again.

“When was this anyway? I don’t remember you complaining about any dog bites before.”

Merlin scrunched up his face trying to remember. “Two years ago? Three? Whenever it was that that really fat duke from the southern territories visited.”

Arthur tried to recall. “Did he have dogs?”

Merlin smiled bitterly. “Trust me, they were more beast than dog.” He shoveled another pile a bit more forcefully. 

“Yes, they were quite vicious, I remember. We haven’t heard from him in a while,” Arthur said,

Merlin grunted in exertion. “Perhaps he didn’t like it when someone told him to keep his dogs tied up,” he joked.

 Arthur watched Merlin work for a few more moments. He was being uncharacteristically silent. Either he was keeping an important detail from him, or he was too tired to talk anymore. Arthur tried to focus on the scar on his shoulder but his eyes kept traveling to the muscles on Merlin’s back. He’d have to analyze that behavior later.

Arthur’s stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting Merlin’s hard work. His servant looked up at him and grinned, panting slightly. The king rolled his eyes.

“Take a break from this and get me some damned supper,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “And for the love of God, would you put on a shirt?”

Merlin just laughed. 

Chapter Text

Arthur’s eyes snapped open. Something had awoken him, but for now, the woods were quiet and tranquil. He glanced at the glowing embers of their fire. Usually, Merlin would have been vigilantly tending to the flames but it had been a very long two days of travel. Arthur decided his servant could probably sleep a little bit more. 

He got up stiffly. These nights spent out in the open always locked up his joints. He poked the embers and watched as they flew into the air, dissolving into ash. Carefully, as to not wake the sleeping form of his manservant, he leaned a few more logs onto the fire, adjusting them purposefully so they could light faster. Arthur sat back down and stared up at the stars. 

They’d be back in Camelot tomorrow evening if everything went according to plan. Arthur was meant to have gone on this quest alone, but Merlin had decided to tag along despite his protests. It was probably for the best anyway. If Merlin hadn’t been there to distract that beast he wasn’t sure he would be sitting where he was.

He looked over to his sleeping servant. The firelight danced across his features, accenting the sharpness of his cheekbones and the wells of his eyes. Merlin usually looked like a fool when he slept. His mouth tended to hang open. He’d been known to drool on occasion. Tonight, however, Merlin looked a bit perturbed. His mouth was firmly closed, his lips twitching ever so often. His eyebrows had less space between them than normal. 

Perhaps Merlin had produced a thought and his brain was having trouble handling the achievement. 

Arthur reclined back onto his bedroll and closed his eyes. He should really be getting some sleep. Dawn was not far off and Arthur intended to make it back home before nightfall. He listened to the insects in the trees and the fire pop and sizzle as it warmed the right side of his body. He had just begun to doze when Merlin made a small distressed sound beside him. 

Arthur’s eyes cracked open, his vision flooding with stars. He blinked several times but otherwise stayed still, listening. He heard nothing but the bugs and the wind in the leaves. He closed his eyes again. Perhaps he had imagined it. 

“Ngh-no,” Merlin groaned.

Arthur sat up just as quickly as he opened his eyes. Merlin had curled in on himself, his fingers twisted into his chest and twitching spasmodically. His breath was shallow and troubled. Merlin whimpered again, his entire body shuddering as if from the cold. 

Arthur got to his feet hastily. His friend was obviously having a bad dream. The least he could do was interrupt it by waking him. He knelt at Merlin’s side and was just about to rest a hand on his shoulder when he heard his name.

“Arthur,” he whined. 

The prince froze. What could Merlin be dreaming about that involved him? 

“‘M sorry… sorry.” Arthur saw the glistening trail of a tear over the bridge of Merlin’s nose and his heart cracked. He had no idea what was so troubling in is servant’s nightmares but he couldn’t stand to observe anything further. His hand gripped the man’s shoulder tightly.

“Merlin,” he called to him, shaking his arm slightly. 

“No,” Merlin slurred. 

Arthur shook him a little rougher but he seemed to be locked inside his mind. “Merlin.”

“Please,” Merlin mumbled, his voice splintering. 

Panic surged in Arthur as the word passed his friend’s lips. His hand left Merlin’s shoulder to cradle the side of his face. “Merlin!”

To Arthur’s great relief, Merlin’s eyes opened, glazed and glassy, the remnants of his nightmare fading behind his irises.

“Merlin?” Arthur moved his hand back to his shoulder to give him some space. He didn’t know what sort of state his servant was in. 

Merlin panted as his eyes finally focused on him. His face scrunched in confusion. 

“Arthur?” he muttered. “What are you doing?”

“You were having a nightmare,” he explained softly.

Merlin raised his head slightly and wiped at his eyes. Arthur chewed his lip nervously. His servant sat up with a sniff and looked around their small campsite as if reacquainting himself with his surroundings. Arthur let his hand fall away to return to his side. Merlin took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry if I woke you. I didn’t mean to-”

“Merlin,” Arthur cut him off gently, but firmly. He had nothing to apologize for. He could not control what he dreamt about no more than he could control the weather. “It’s alright.” 

Merlin looked at the fire, lost in thought.

“Are you? Alright, that is?”

Merlin turned his head to meet Arthur’s gaze. A deep sorrow flickered over his face before he schooled his expression. 

“I’ll be fine, Arthur,” Merlin assured him softly. The firelight made his irises seem to glow. 

Arthur realized he was very close to his friend and leaned away slightly. He checked him over again as discreetly as he could. He knew Merlin did not like him worrying but Arthur had never heard such a broken plea in his life, and certainly never from his servant. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked hesitantly. Arthur was not normally one to suggest sharing personal information such as fears and nightmares but he felt he had to know what had made Merlin so distressed. 

Merlin choked out a laugh then wiped his nose with his sleeve. He stared at the fire again bitterly. 

“Maybe one day,” Merlin glanced at him before his eyes returned to the fire, “but not tonight.”

Arthur deflated disappointedly. He couldn’t really fault him for keeping his nightmare to himself. Dreams were private affairs, especially ones so wrought with emotion as Merlin’s had been. Still, Arthur hoped Merlin knew that he was willing to try to help given the opportunity. 

Merlin sighed heavily. “I’m going to try and go back to sleep.” 

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked as Merlin laid back down on his side, facing the fire.

Merlin gave him a small smile. “I’m alright, Arthur. I promise.”

Arthur swallowed and nodded. He did not trust himself to speak. If Merlin said he was fine, then he was fine. But the way he had said his name in his sleep still echoed in his mind. He rose and shuffled back to his bedroll, pausing to stoke the fire before laying down. The woods were quiet again. Just the bugs and the wind and the fire. Arthur sighed softly and closed his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he heard Merlin say into the wind. 

Arthur’s lips twitched. Merlin would be fine. And one day, Arthur hoped, he would be able to tell him about his dreams. 

Chapter Text

Arthur would have never expected in a thousand years to be put in this position. He would never have dreamed that he would have chased down an assassin to the top of an abandoned watchtower. Never would he have thought that Merlin would be at his side, cornering the cutthroat against the wall. And he would have laughed if someone had suggested that Arthur wasn’t trying to hurt the assassin, only capture him. The only reason the man was still alive was because they didn’t know who he was working for. A fact that didn’t prevent Arthur from raising his sword at the man dangerously. The man’s dark eyes narrowed from beneath the hood of his cloak. He would not be easily defeated.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Arthur panted. He wished his voice came out stronger but he had just climbed enough stairs to make a hare want for breath. As it was, Arthur was afraid his legs would not be at their full strength if I fight broke out, which unfortunately seemed inevitable at this point. 

“Lay your weapons down, and no harm will come to you,” Merlin urged. He stood by Arthur’s side with a confidence he couldn’t fathom. Merlin had no weapon, no fighting chance. Arthur wanted to berate him for bringing attention to himself. The king usually prided himself on being a competent warrior, but he wasn’t sure he could protect both himself and his servant if things went south. 

The assassin made no move to surrender. He looked wildly around for an escape route but the only way out was a door to their backs.

Merlin edged closer, stepping into the light of the open window. He stared down their assailant without a hint of restraint. Arthur resisted the urge to pull him back and out of harm’s way. 

The assassin made an offensive adjustment to his fighting stance and Arthur felt a hint of dread seep into his chest. He did not foresee a happy ending to this situation. 

“What makes you think I’d ever surrender to you?” the man snarled. His fingers flexed at his sides, ready for any attack. The air was thick with a silent stalemate, each side holding off their assault.

Then, from the ceiling above them, Arthur heard the grinding hiss of stone on stone. They all looked up just in time to see a brick come hurtling down toward the assassin as if he had a target on his head. The man lept out of its path just in time, rolling forward and into Merlin. The men collided with a quick shuffle of limbs and stuttered grunts. Before Arthur could intervene, the assassin had Merlin pressed against the windows ledge. Their fingers clenched around each other’s clothes tightly. Arthur had his sword raised before he could think. 

“You will unhand him now, or I will cut you down where you stand.” Arthur surprised himself at the levelness of his voice. He tried to keep his gaze steady on the assassin but his eyes kept flickering over Merlin’s alarmed features. 

“You’ll let me go or he’ll never speak again,” the man growled, pressing Merlin further into danger. The wind disturbed the boy’s hair mockingly as his body leaned into the open air. 

Arthur swallowed and looked to Merlin once more. They needed a plan. Immediately. 

He watched Merlin relax his grip on the other man’s cloak. Arthur flicked his attention between the two men, trying to decide what Merlin was trying to do while simultaneously gauging the assassin’s reaction. If they made one wrong move, Merlin would be tossed out the window. 

And it was a very long way down. 

Everything depended on Arthur’s next few actions. He looked to his friend again. Merlin nodded at him, complete trust in his eyes. Arthur set his jaw. He could not allow any harm to come to him. 

He lowered his sword slowly. Triumph glinted in the hooded man’s eyes. The king crouched to set his weapon on the ground. 

“Was that really that hard?” the man said.

Arthur glared at him. “Let him go.”

His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a cruel smirk. “You’re quite, demanding you know.” He locked his gaze with Arthur’s and gave Merlin a final shove. His friend’s eyes went wide, his mouth agape, air and stone slipping through his fingers. And then he was gone.

“Merlin!” Arthur screamed, but it was useless. He was gone. He’d fallen. 

The assassin stepped back from the window and brushed his hands together as if he’d just finished throwing out the kitchen scraps. 

A rage he had never known engulfed Arthur. It started behind his eyes and burned through to the tips of his fingers. He had no thoughts. He perceived no sound but the pounding of his heart. He hadn’t even realized he picked up his sword until it was sliding through the flesh of the other man. 

The assassin fell to the ground, choking soundlessly as blood filled his lungs. Arthur didn’t bother to watch. He would die of his wounds in minutes. 

He stumbled to the open window. The sound of his sword tip against the stone floor was a dull ring in his ear. 

Bile rose in his throat as he approached the opening. He couldn’t bring himself to look. It was easily a fifty-foot drop to the ground. There was no chance Merlin wasn’t already dead or mortally wounded. Oh God, if he was still alive, what misery would he be in? Still, his feet carried him forward until he was looking out into the small grassy clearing surrounding the watchtower. 

Merlin wasn’t where he’d thought he’d be. In fact, he wasn’t anywhere. Arthur leaned further, looking at every patch of green he could find but his servant’s body was nowhere to be found. Where was he? Had someone taken him? Had he miraculously survived and dragged his broken body into the treeline? 

Arthur’s senses returned to him like a physical blow. He sucked in a breath and turned on the spot, not even sparing the dying man a passing glance. He had to find Merlin. 

He rushed to the stairs, sheathing his sword out of muscle memory, and went down the steps two at a time in his fervor. He can’t have lost him entirely. What would he tell Gaius? How could he face anyone back home? How could he face himself? 

He’d been the one to drag Merlin along. And while he certainly hadn’t planned to run into an assassin along the way, he had done very little to ensure his safety. How could he have been so stupid? So slow? If he’d been faster, a more talented negotiator, a leader not worth assassinating in the first place-

No, he couldn’t let himself think like that. There was no use in dwelling on things that could not be changed. He just had to find Merlin and go from there. He tried to focus only on the steps as he descended. He counted them in his head as they passed under his feet. 

He was so engrossed in his mindless effort that he nearly ran into Merlin as he came up the stairs. 

“Arthur!” 

Arthur stumbled back a step in shock. His heart seemed to simultaneously leap forward out of his chest and fly into his throat. 

Merlin looked past him carefully, searching for signs of danger. “Are you alright? Did you take the assassin down?”

The king stared. There was Merlin, whole and apparently unscathed, standing two steps below him. His eyes were focused, his breath heavy from the stairs he’d managed to climb before running into Arthur. He was very solidly real and yet Arthur had the sudden urge to reach out and confirm that he was a tangible being and not a ghost of his imagination. 

“Merlin,” he breathed, still in disbelief. He’d seen him fall. A five-story drop. It didn’t make sense. 

“Arthur?” Merlin cocked his head to the side curiously. 

“How…” Arthur couldn’t find the words. A steady stream of relief was beginning to seep into his consciousness making his legs weak and his tongue numb. “How are you here?”

Merlin frowned. “I came up the stairs,” he offered slowly. 

“No-” Arthur shut his eyes and tried to gain any sense of reality he could muster. When he opened them again, Merlin’s frown had deepened. 

“How are you alright? I watched you fall.” Arthur swallowed. “You fell .”

“I guess I’m just lucky,” Merlin shrugged with a charming smile. “I just landed right, I suppose.”

Arthur gazed at him a moment longer, studied his easy smile, the deep blue of his eyes. 

“No,” he said finally. 

“No?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Arthur asked softly, dangerously. He would not stand for this any longer. 

Merlin seemed to wilt under the intensity of his gaze. “Arthur, I swear. I don’t know how it happened any more than y-”

Arthur seized the fabric of his shirt in his fists, shaking him slightly in his agitation. 

“Don’t. Lie. To me,” he hissed. His face was inches from Merlin’s. Close enough to see the tiny wrinkles in his forehead as his eyes widened. 

He was so damn tired of all the lies. He wanted so badly to trust his friend but this was going too far. He’d accepted that Merlin didn’t wish to tell him about his problems. He’d made a grudging peace with that. But damn if it didn’t hurt like hell every time Merlin decided he wasn’t worth confiding in. He just wanted the truth. For once. 

Arthur swallowed thickly. He released him and Merlin took a step down, steadying himself on the wall, though he kept his eyes glued to Arthur’s the entire time. 

“I’m not stupid,” Arthur said. “I saw you fall. There is no way you’re-” Arthur broke off as another wave of relief broke over him. He let himself falter for a second. Merlin searched his eyes. His resolve reformed and his eyes narrowed.

“I am not stupid,” he said again, softer this time, calculating. “There is no natural explanation that can account for you standing here before me.”

Merlin looked up at him, his mouth falling open slightly. His eyes took on a watery sheen. 

“You’re right,” he finally whispered. 

Arthur frowned. “What-” but Arthur stopped. A cold stab of ice shot through his core as an idea began to form. It was a wild, terrible, grasping idea, but plausible nonetheless. Arthur’s breath stuttered in his chest. 

No. His head shook in denial imperceptibly. No. There was no way. It could not be.  

But Merlin was looking at him as if he were grieving the loss of a loved one. Arthur thought back to all heir past adventures, every example of Merlin’s strange behaviors. Tears began to well in his eyes and he didn’t know to blame his continued relief or the realization that he truly did not know his friend. 

“Arthur,” Merlin began slowly, his voice shaking. “Please. You have to understand-”

Arthur shook his head more vigorously. He did not want to hear him say it. He could not hear him say it. All the lies, all the hiding; was he ever truly his friend? Had he ever truly cared for him? Were the deceit and betrayal so deeply rooted that their entire relationship was a fabrication?

“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was choked. The tears in his eyes overflowed and fell on to his cheeks. “Please just listen!” 

He made a desperate grab at Arthur’s arm but the king lurched away from his reaching fingers, stumbling back before he could think. His ankles connected with the front of the step and his balance was thrown. He fell but never touched the stone. He floated, suspended in midair above the stairs like a cloud. 

He watched Merlin’s golden eyes as his servant, the sorcerer, lowered him softly onto the steps. 

There it was then. Confirmation.

Arthur’s throat closed as Merlin lowered his head and stepped down two stairs. 

“I have magic,” Merlin said, his voice strong despite the tears that fell from his eyes. “And I use it to protect you and our home.” He raised his head to meet Arthur’s gaze. 

He wanted to look away but he could not. Merlin’s eyes were nervous yet determined. The irises that had moments ago changed color seemed to simultaneously invite challenge and cultivate sorrow. Arthur could not make sense of it. Only one thing seemed clear. 

“You lied to me.”

Merlin lifted his chin.

“All this time.” He didn’t bother hiding the bitterness in his voice.

“I lied to protect you.”

“You lied to protect yourself,” Arthur all but spat. 

Merlin took a step up defiantly. “Would you rather me be dead?!”

Arthur froze. The icy shard that had struck him earlier expanded inside his chest. His thoughts raced to moments before when he’d thought he’d lost Merlin forever.

“No,” Arthur murmured. Realization and unused grief made his voice crack when he spoke. “No, of course not.”

Merlin took a deep breath and wiped at his nose. Arthur suddenly felt lightheaded. He slouched and stared into the middle distance. 

Merlin hesitated before he spoke. “I understand why you’re upset.”

Arthur brought his hands to his face.

“I understand if you never want to speak to me again,” Merlin continued, his voice wavering. “But it is my destiny to protect you until the day I die. And I will never stop trying to keep you safe. You will have to kill me if you want to be rid of me and-”

Arthur’s head shot up from the sanctuary of his hands to glare at even the suggestion. “Merlin, I’m not going to kill you. I would never-” He didn’t want to continue the notion. 

  Merlin blinked and Arthur saw the flare of hope within his eyes. A hint of understanding began to seep into his consciousness. 

“I… understand why you hid this from me.” 

Merlin swallowed. Arthur did understand. His heart broke at the fear he must have felt, the loneliness of the lies. But a seed of pride warmed in his chest as he thought of the courage Merlin must have had to have come all this way. But he could not just simply let go of this betrayal. His fists clenched at his sides as he pondered his next words. 

“But you must never lie to me again,” Arthur said finally. He looked into Merlin’s eyes to make sure he comprehended the severity of his request.

He would never hurt Merlin, he cared for him too much to let that happen. But his deceit had burned him. Arthur would be thinking about this revelation for days. And when the relief of Merlin’s safety finally wore off, and Arthur could be rational, they would have a very long, serious conversation. For now, the two men nodded at each other. Arthur hoped to the powers in the world that Merlin would keep his promise. He didn’t think he could take anything more. 

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes and reclined on the steps, ignoring the sharp corners digging into his back. After a moment, he heard Merlin hesitantly climb the few steps separating them and sit next to him. 

The king opened his eyes and met his gaze. “Were you ever going to tell me?” Arthur asked softly. 

Merlin winced. “I always imagined I’d do it privately. You had a right to know before anyone else. I thought, once the laws relaxed, and Camelot was safe, and I was sure no harm was headed your way, I would tell you. That way if you decided to cut my head off, you’d be safe for a little longer without me to protect you.” He smiled when Arthur scoffed.

“In what world would I need your protection?”

“Every world it would seem. You get yourself into quite a lot of trouble, Arthur.” 

He looked at him in disbelief. 

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you know how many people I’ve fended off, how many adversaries I’ve fought?”

Arthur frowned but Merlin appeared to be completely serious. He thought back to all his terrible lies, all his strange scars and injuries, the unabashed strangeness of his behavior at times. He gazed at him fondly and let a small smile curve his lips.

“I have a vague idea.”