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The sun beat down over the training grounds, the air too muggy and humid for any sane person to be working. Merlin, however, was not feeling sane. He had been sitting in the sun, taking a stolen break from his chores to fan himself and try attract a non existent breeze but, of course, Arthur had foiled his plans. He was situated merely a hundred metres away from Merlin, shirtless, his tan skin pulled taught over sleek bands of muscle, and golden hair stuck to his forehead by sweat as he danced around the other knights he was sparring with, easily beating them in combat.
The sight was distracting, to say the least. Watching Arthur shirtless and glistening in the sun only reminded Merlin of what he couldn’t have; as a servant, he couldn’t have many things, one of which was the prince that his unwanted feelings chased after. He sighed, as he felt his heart sink lower into his chest, feeling as though it were about to drop in depths from which it would never recover.
Merlin was drawn out of his wallowing by the sight of a procession of nobleman on horseback entering through the castle gates. He rolled his eyes. They were from the neighbouring kingdom, here for a feast tonight, and were undoubtedly still as pompous and idiotic as the last time they were here. Scowling, he grabbed the armour he was supposed to be polishing and ducked his head, not wanting any un unnecessary interactions with the visiting nobleman.
Unfortunately for Merlin, two of the visitors had other ideas. He felt the tingle of wariness down his spine before he heard the footsteps following him. He had almost reached the servants quarters when he felt a shove from behind, and suddenly the gritty taste of dirt was in his mouth. He wasted no time in pushing himself off the ground and turning around to face the noblemen—they may have outranked him, but he was sure he could take at least one of them in a fight.
That was before he had time to fully take in their size. Two walls of muscle stood in front of him, and for the first time in a while, he felt fear billow up like a dark storm cloud in his chest. The taller of the two stepped toward him, reaching forward with a meaty hand and shoving Merlin back again. He feel on his butt, and scrambled back, armour forgotten as his survival instincts took over. Where was Arthur when you need him?
“What are you doing eh, boy? Running away before we have a chance to play?” The taller man laughed menacingly, as his accomplice lunged forward, grabbing Merlin as he made an attempt to run, pinning him to the wall.
“Get—Off—Me!” Merlin grunted out, struggling to force the bigger man off him.
“What, just when it’s getting fun?” The man pinning him to the wall asked, as a sickly smile took over his face. The other man prowled towards them, drawing a knife from his belt and trailing it over Merlin’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Merlin closed his eyes. This was it. He was going to die, and at the hands of two thugs. He always thought— hoped— that he would die next to Arthur, die protecting him. It was the only way he could go happily.
He kept his eyes closed, letting thoughts of the prince he loved play in his head as he felt himself being pushed to the ground, letting snapshots of his life as Arthur’s friend flash across his mind as malicious fists rained down on him. He felt his body being broken—pain consumed him, every part of him. He heard a sharp crack, and a fire ignited in his chest. He tried to sit up, to fight back, but the tiniest of movements had him howling in pain as the blows kept on coming. “Arth…. Arthur…. I love….” He trailed off as darkness swallowed him.
Meanwhile, Arthur
Arthur groaned. The visiting noblemen seriously needed an ego check. He could have fought them blindfolded and still won, as he had just proved, and yet they were somehow still cocky enough to claim they were going easy on him. As if. He snorted at the thought. He looked around for Merlin, craving the company of the one person he knew wasn’t a total idiot. Granted, Merlin could sometimes be an idiot, but Merlin was his idiot. Just the thought of his teasing friend bought a smile to Arthur’s face. Where was the little monster, anway?
Stalking away from the boasting visitors, an uneasy feeling overcame Arthur as he thought about the last time he has seen Merlin. He had been watching him train (which was very distracting to Arthur— how was one to focus on fighting when there was a boy with perfect eyes and perfect hair sitting there looking like a dream come true?) and Merlin had seemed uneasy when the noblemen arrived.
Quickening his pace, he followed a path around the back of the castle, towards the servants quarters. Mathe merlin had come this way. He heard laughter and a heavy thud, thud from ahead, and broke into a run, unease crawling down his spine. He rounded the corner, and saw the tall, muscular noblemen standing over a crumpled body. Adrenaline overtook him and he surged forward, using every bit of his strength to shove the two men away, pulling his sword from where it rested in his hip and hitting them with the blunt side of the blade, knocking them back. He then pulled his arm back, putting ever bit of strength and rage he had behind his fist, before lunging forward and hearing the satisfying crunch of bone as the men crumpled to the ground.
Arthur fell to the floor beside Merlin, tears running down his cheeks as he took in the battered body of the boy he loved, black and blue bruises blossoming like a deadly painting across his skin. Taking Merlin’s hand in his, he pleaded to him “wake up, Merlin…. Please wake up.” He didn’t know how long he crouched there, clutching Merlin’s hand and fisting his shirt in his fist, rocking back and forth and begging Merlin to wake up, to come back to him.
Merlin
The world was pain. Pain was everywhere. It was all he knew, surging through him like a fire. He cracked an eye open, and some of the pain dulled when he saw a familiar face staring back at him, blue eyes filled pain. “Arthur?” He breathed, his ribs smarting with pain.
“Merlin! Oh, thank gods! You’re awake!” Arthur cried, leaning towards Merlin.
“They… they tried to kill me.” Merlin breathed. “Don’t… don’t let them do it again, Arthur.”
Arthur leaned towards Merlin, as love and courage coursed though him, emboldening him to do something he’d never had the courage to do—something that he felt he would die if he didn’t do now. He brushed his lips against Merlin’s, whose mouth formed a soft “o” of surprise. “No one will ever hurt you again, Merlin.” Arthur promised. And he meant it.
From now one, Merlin’s was his, and no one would ever touch or harm him again. He then returned his mount to Merlin’s, and this time soft lips welcomed him.