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“It's fine, Arthur.” Merlin insisted. Arthur grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. “Fine, Merlin? Fine? You clearly can't see yourself.”
Merlin couldn't see himself, but he felt himself quite well. His shoulders throbbed from where he was pushed into stone walls, and his vision was impeded by his swollen eye. He limped as well, though he tried to hide it.
“It's nothing. You know I'm clumsy. Everyone says so.” he insisted.
“Merlin.” Arthur said urgently, gripping his shoulders. “You must tell me who did this. Who hurt you?”
“No one, Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed, ripping himself away. “I fell, alright? Right into a doorway.” Arthur grimaced. “Do you not trust me, Merlin? You are part of my household. My responsibility, and mine to defend.”
Merlin quieted and looked up at Arthur through swollen eyes and thick lashes. “I do not wish to implicated anyone...”
Arthur caught on right away. “So it was someone of nobility, yes? Was it one of my knights? Or someone in court?” At Merlin's flinch, he knew he was right. “Tell me.”
Merlin was silent, so Arthur gripped his shoulders again. “No harm will come to you, Merlin. I swear it. Tell me who has hurt you and they will dread the day they were born.”
Merlin looked into his eyes, tears threatening to spill. “What will you do, Arthur? I'm just a servant. According to many, I have no honor to speak of, nothing to be besmirched.”
Arthur paused, wrong-footed. Anger he could deal with, but tears? Tears were best left to maidens and nursemaids. Still, Merlin was his friend, even if he was a total girl. He dug into his mind for a solution. What would Gwen do?
He pulled Merlin into a hug, embracing him. “Idiot.” he said, fondness in his voice, “You don't have to deal with this alone.” He figured his action was the right one, for Merlin wrapped around him and sobbed into his shoulder. “Arthur. Sorry, sorry!”
Arthur ran one hand over Merlin's back, the other carding through his hair. “What are you sorry for, dollophead? You haven't done anything wrong.” Merlin laughed into his shoulder, thick with his tears. “That's my word.”
“And it suits you perfectly.” Arthur asserted.
Arthur waited as Merlin's tears soaked his tunic, murmuring platitudes that he wouldn't remember later. He swore to himself that whoever had hurt Merlin so would pay dearly.
When his friend's cries wore down, he pulled away and cradled Merlin's face in his hands. “Now,” he said gently, “who has done this to you?”
“Umm...that is to say...errm...” Merlin started, averting his eyes.
“I want the truth, Merlin.” Arthur said, holding Merlin's chin firmly and forcing him to hold the king's gaze.
Merlin slouched, defeated. “It was Sir Ethan.” he whispered, “and Sir Bedivere.” He gripped Arthur's tunic suddenly, and looked at him with pleading eyes. “Don't kill them. Don't hurt them! They just thought that I took too many liberties with your royal person. They sought to put me in my place. You can't blame them!”
Arthur peeled Merlin's fingers off of him one by one. Then he brushed Merlin's fringe. “I certainly can blame them, Merlin. A king's favors are his own choice.” He stroked Merlin's cheek. “And you have my favor, do you not?”
“Arthur—“
“Shut up, Merlin.”
Arthur buckled his own sword belt as Merlin stood, not knowing what to do at the admission.
“Let's go Merlin. No dilly dallying!”
***
On the practice field, Arthur wasted no time. He called Sir Ethan and Sir Bedivere to spar with him, two against one.
The other knights crowded to observe the confrontation. Gwaine was placing bets unabashedly. Arthur stood in the clearing.
“Sir Ethan. Sir Bedivere. You will both face me.” The two knights looked at one another, having an inkling as to the cause of the challenge. “Sire,” Sir Ethan encroached, “It would be our honor.”
“Honor? Do you have any honor, Sir Ethan?” Arthur said, his tone dangerous.
Ethan shuffled. “My Lord, I'm not sure what you mean.”
“Is there honor in hurting servants?” Bedivere gulped visibly. “Come,” Arthur beckoned, “and fight me. Both of you.”
With no other choice, Sir Ethan and Sir Bedivere drew their swords and fell into their stances. Without warning, Arthur came at them. He played with them, slapping the flat of his blade against them more than once, more than thrice. He even used his fists, catching each of them at least once in the face. At the end of ten minutes, they were both laying in the grass, groaning. Sir Bedivere was holding his side, and Sir Ethan favored his eye. Arthur threw his sword in the ground, point-first.
“And what have you learned today?”
Bedivere groaned.
“That's right.” Arthur said. “You've learned to respect those in the royal household.” The gathered knights looked at Merlin, who quickly became red in the face. “You've learned to respect what is mine.” Arthur faced the crowd. “If any of you have an issue with Merlin, you will come to me. I am in charge of this idiot, gods help me, and I will deal with him as I see fit.” He rested one foot on Bedivere's chest. “Understand?” There was an answering groan. “Good.”
“Sir Leon.” The man in question nodded. “I trust you'll be able to handle the rest of training today.”
“Yes, of course, your majesty.”
“Good. Come along, Merlin.” And with that Arthur began to head back towards the castle. Merlin trailed after him, though the further reddening of his face showed that he was unable to ignore the wolf whistles that followed him.
***
“Arthur” Merlin hissed as soon as they entered the king's chambers. “What was that!?”
Arthur looked at him imperiously. “What was what, Merlin? I was simply defending your honor.”
“I'm not a maiden to be defended!” claimed Merlin emphatically as he began to strip Arthur of his armor.
“Could have fooled me.”
Merlin continued to remove Arthur's armor viciously with mutterings of Self-important clotpole and Thinks so much of himself does he . When the last piece of metal fell to the floor the king grabbed his arm, causing Merlin to stop his tirade.
“Merlin. I hope I did not offend you. I merely wished for them to see justice.”
“Arthur—”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, drawing Merlin closer. “I don't tell you this enough—well, I never tell you—how much you mean to me.” He brought one hand up to cup Merlin's cheek. “I meant what I said. You're mine, Merlin. Mine to discipline and—mine to care for. Mine to love.” Merlin gasped at the admission. Arthur coughed. “Now get us some lunch.”