Work Text:
Arthur fumed as he stormed through the stone halls of Camelot with Leon beside him.
“He’s late again,” Arthur snapped, the echo of his boots bouncing off the walls. “He knew training was scheduled earlier to accommodate the Glaedaran envoys. I told him not to mess this up.”
Leon, ever calm, cast him a look. “He probably just got distracted—”
“I told him this week was critical,” Arthur hissed. “I told him Camelot’s future could depend on—”
He stopped dead.
They had just turned a quiet corridor that opened into one of the unused side courtyards.
What they saw made time stop.
Merlin—his Merlin—was pinned against the stone wall.
Lord Carleon of Glaedara, the same man Arthur had spent dinner with the night before, stood before him. A dagger glinted in his hand, the blade streaked with blood.
Blood.
Merlin’s tunic was torn to shreds and soaked with blood. His arms were raised to shield his face, but he wasn’t fighting—he just stood there trembling, enduring it.
Carleon lifted the dagger again.
Merlin flinched, tried to move away—and CRACK.
Arthur heard it.
So did Leon.
The noble had snapped Merlin’s arm like kindling.
Merlin let out a strangled cry and crumpled to his knees, still trying to shield his face with his other hand.
Arthur ROARED.
“GET AWAY FROM HIM!!”
Leon surged forward, sword drawn, while Arthur moved faster than he ever had, throwing himself between the noble and Merlin, shielding the manservant with his own body.
“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, dropping his sword and shrugging off his cloak. He wrapped it tightly around the shaking man and pulled him close, sliding an arm around his waist, cradling him. “It’s alright. I’ve got you, sweetheart. It’s me. You’re safe now.”
Merlin looked up with one working eye, blinking blood away. He stared at Arthur, dazed, as if not understanding what was happening.
Arthur’s hand moved to his cheek, brushing away grime and blood. “You’re alright now, my sweet. I’ve got you. He won’t touch you again.”
Merlin sagged into Arthur’s arms, utterly still. For a long moment, Arthur simply held him, breathing him in, grounding himself in the steady rise and fall of Merlin’s breath. Then, with care, Arthur gently eased Merlin against the wall, pulling his cloak tighter around Merlin. Only then did Arthur rise—slowly, deliberately—anger simmering beneath every movement.
And then he turned.
He slowly approached Lord Carleon with deadly calm.
Leon had him cornered, sword raised—but Arthur held up a hand.
“Leave him to me.”
He stalked forward, the courtyard thick with silence.
“You laid hands on him,” Arthur growled, eyes locked on the bloodied dagger. “You hurt him. You cut him. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Carleon didn’t even flinch. “He’s a servant. Who cares? It's not like he matters. I’ve dealt with dogs with more bite. You told me he was your servant—if he’s yours, why not punish him yourself?”
Arthur’s fury snapped like a whip.
He struck Carleon hard across the face with the flat of his sword. The man hit the ground, dazed.
“You DARE—”
Arthur raised the blade—point aimed at the man’s heart, the tip trembling from his fury. “He’s MINE, yes—but not how you think. He is mine to protect. Mine to value. Mine to love.”
He lifted the sword, ready to strike him down—
and stopped only when a soft touch brushed his arm.
“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice croaked softly. “Don’t.”
Arthur turned his face to Merlin stricken, sword not moving an inch.
Merlin, barely able to stand upright, had reached out with his unbroken arm, blood still dripping from his fingers.
“Arthur. Please… don’t become like him.”
Arthur let his sword fall.
Not onto Carleon—but to the stones.
He stepped close to Merlin, pulling him close, holding his weight, kissing his hair, his temple, his brow.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve protected you.”
Merlin didn’t respond.
He just leaned against Arthur’s chest, clinging weakly to him with his unbroken arm.
The Trial
Broke his arm. All because he thought he could get away with it. Because Merlin didn’t raise a hand in return.” Arthur’s voice turned razor sharp. “Because Merlin honored em>me—and the delicate treaty I asked him to protect.”
Arthur turned to Merlin, his voice softening, his face smoothing from anger to something gentler. Arthur softly stroked Merlin's cheek.
“And because he’s better than I’ll ever be.”
Carleon sneered. “You cradle a servant like he’s royalty. What is he to you? A bedwarmer, a whore you won’t share?”
The room fell dead silent.
Merlin gasped in shock, his good hand covering his mouth slightly.
Arthur's head whipped round sharply as he drew his sword, ready to step down to strike him —but Merlin, even as battered as he was, reached out and gently tugged Arthur back by his sleeve.
Arthur looked down at him—his fury instantly turning gentle as he looked at Merlin.
“I’m alright, Arthur” Merlin whispered, though they all knew it was a lie. “Please don’t waste your honour on him.”
Arthur stared at him.
Then slowly he turned back to the room. He looked at Carleon. Then he looked at the court silently as he sheathed his sword.
“I could kill him. It is my em>right,” Arthur declared. “But I won’t. For one reason. And one reason ONLY.”
He looked down at Merlin, softly grasping his uninjured hand in his..
“The mercy of My Treasure.” Merlin's eyes widened at this.
Arthur gestured to the nearby knights, then turned completely to Merlin as Carleon was dragged away.
Arthur slowly kneeled in front of Merlin, cupping his face gently with both hands as the Court filed out.
“I am sorry,” he whispered. “For not seeing this sooner. For letting you suffer alone. For em>failing to protect you”
Merlin blinked rapidly, struggling to keep his composure. “You—you called me yours.”
“I meant it.”
“I thought you—”
Arthur leaned close, resting their foreheads together. “You are more to me than any kingdom.”
Merlin swallowed thickly, slowly, hesitantly touching Arthur’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I love you.”
Arthur’s eyes shimmered.
“And I love you, em>My Own.”
Merlin smiled faintly.
“Clotpole,” he whispered fondly.
Arthur laughed—a quiet, broken sound.
“Yours,” he whispered. “If you’ll have me.”
Merlin nodded shakily, burying his face into Arthur’s neck, fingers moving to clutch the front of his tunic. “Always.”
And Arthur—King, Warrior, Protector—wrapped his arms around him like the world could fall away at any moment and he wouldn’t care.