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“Where is that blasted idiot?”
Arthur’s voice rang loudly across the training field. His brows were furrowed, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he paced in irritation.
Leon raised a brow. “Maybe something held him up.”
“Yes,” Arthur snapped, “probably a bloody chicken he decided to rescue from a tree. Or a talking flower. Or he got distracted again doing something he wasn’t supposed to.”
Leon said nothing. He’d seen Arthur angry before. He'd seen him furious even. This was different somehow.
The king had been grumbling about Merlin all morning—louder than usual, meaner than usual, and more often than usual. And yet… every insult sounded a little too sharp, a little too defensive.
Like Arthur wasn’t trying to convince Leon.
He was trying to convince himself.
“He knew I needed him this morning,” Arthur muttered storming down the hallway with Leon. “We have visiting nobility. And he was supposed to help prep the field for the demonstration.”
Leon opened his mouth to respond. To calm or placate.
But the words never reached his lips, as they turned a corner into the castle courtyard.
And froze.
There, pinned against the wall, was Merlin.
One of the visiting lords—a tall, dark-haired man in green and gold—had him tightly by the throat against the castle wall. Merlin’s legs dangled off the ground, his face already battered and bloodied, his tunic torn and barely clinging to his chest in strips. One eye was nearly swollen shut. His chest was covered in bruises and cuts.
Arthur didn’t even think.
He was moving, sword already drawn, a sound like a roar ripping from his throat.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM!!!"
The lord turned, startled—just long enough for Leon to tackle him from the side, tearing him away from Merlin with brutal force.
Merlin crumpled to the ground, taking gasping breaths.
Arthur dropped beside him instantly, dropping his sword beside them without a thought, catching Merlin before he fell to the side fully. Merlin was slumped, barely conscious, trembling with pain and shock.
“Merlin. Merlin. Look at me.” Arthur breathed, cupping the side of his face gently.
Blood covered his face. There were bruises on his ribs, a long cut down one arm, and the way he flinched when Arthur touched his back made Arthur’s stomach clench.
He pulled off his coat and wrapped it tightly around Merlin, shielding his torn clothes.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” he murmured, cradling the broken manservant close.
Merlin stirred faintly. “Arthur…?” he barely whispered.
“I’m here.” His voice broke. “You’re safe. You’re safe now. I've got you.”
Leon was already dragging the lord to his feet roughly, fury etched into his normally gentle features. “What in the hells were you thinking?!”
The noble didn’t even look ashamed. “I saw the glow on his hands. He’s a sorcerer.”
Arthur stood slowly, still holding Merlin close.
And unleashed his fury.
“You DARE lay a hand on him?! You come into my kingdom, strike down the man who has saved Camelot a hundred times over—my sorcerer , my treasure, and you what? Think I’ll thank you?!”
The noble blinked, stunned.
Arthur stepped forward, eyes blazing fiercely.
“Let me make something abundantly clear. This man is not only under my protection—he is the ONLY reason we still draw breath. And I will have your title, your land, and your head if you ever touch him again. If you even look at him sideways, if you even go anywhere near him. Do i make myself clear?!”
Leon looked just as shocked as the visiting lords and the guards nearby.
But Arthur didn’t care. He didn't even wait for a response from the lord.
He turned, scooped Merlin gently into his arms, and carried him away without a word.
Gaius looked up in alarm as Arthur burst through the door.
“Merlin!” he gasped, rushing forward. “What happened?”
“Treat him,” Arthur said, voice tight. “Please.”
He laid Merlin down carefully on the cot, refusing to give up his hand as Gaius worked. Every time Merlin so much as flinched, Arthur squeezed his hand and whispered quiet words of comfort.
When Gaius touched a deep bruise on Merlin’s ribs, Merlin hissed and his body arched in pain.
Arthur cupped his face, and whispered, “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you.”
Gaius’s hand froze.
Merlin’s eyes fluttered open, pupils wide and confused. “Arthur…?”
“I’m here,” Arthur said again, brushing hair from his bruised forehead. “You’re safe, my heart.”
Merlin stared at him like he didn’t understand.
Like the pain was real, but this… this was not.
“I didn’t fight back,” he whispered. “I—I couldn’t. My magic… I was afraid to use it. I knew how important this was for Camelot.”
Arthur’s throat closed.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was angry with you. I thought you had gone and was practising magic. I thought—”
Merlin tried to sit up and gasped in pain.
Arthur caught him, held him upright.
“It’s alright,” he whispered. “You don’t need to move. I'm not going anywhere.”
Gaius finished bandaging his arm and stepped back. “He needs to rest. And perhaps, Sire, you should explain a few things.”
Arthur didn’t answer.
He was still holding Merlin.
Later, when the room was quiet, and Gaius had left to fetch a tonic, Merlin looked up at Arthur from the bed.
“You called me ‘my treasure.’”
Arthur didn’t deny it.
Merlin blinked. “Why?”
Arthur stared down at him for a long moment.
Then: “Because it’s what you are.”
Merlin swallowed. “I thought… I thought I was just your manservant. I didn’t think I mattered that much.”
Arthur let out a shuddering breath.
“You’ve always mattered. More than anything; anyone. I should’ve told you long before today just how much you mean to me.” Arthur softly stroked Merlin's cheek, avoiding his injuries.
Silence.
Then Merlin looked away and whispered, “I love you.”
Arthur’s heart stopped.
Merlin wasn’t smiling. He looked almost ashamed. Vulnerable.
Arthur leaned down, and softly pressed their foreheads together.
“I’ve loved you for years,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry I let you think otherwise.”
He kissed Merlin’s temple. Then his cheek. Then softly—carefully—his lips.
Merlin melted into it, clutching tightly to Arthur's tunic.
When they broke apart, Arthur rested a hand over Merlin’s chest, where his heart beat, steady and strong.
“My treasure,” he whispered again.
And Merlin smiled, even through the pain.
Because he knew, finally, he had found where he belonged.