Work Text:
They’d been caught. Of course they were. How could Arthur be this stupid and careless? They had hidden their relationship for months without getting caught, without his father even suspecting anything. But Arthur had to be an impulsive idiot and kiss Merlin in the middle of a corridor. Granted, he had made sure they were alone before doing it, but it had been so risky. And of course, someone had rounded the corner while Arthur was kissing Merlin, his hand tangled in his hair, the two of them moaning softly in each other’s mouth. It was one of his father’s knights. One that was loyal and made sure to always report any wrongdoing to the King. Arthur had always disliked the man. Now he absolutely hated him.
Uther had been furious. He had screamed and slapped Arthur, the sting of his words worse than that of his hand. Arthur’s father was ashamed of him. He had called him a disgrace. Said he wished Arthur was never born. And Arthur knew that despite the words being spoken out of anger, Uther meant them. Arthur and Merlin had been thrown in the dungeons, in separate cells. They were lucky that the young guards who were on duty at that time loved Merlin. Arthur briefly wondered how anyone could dislike Merlin. They were put in adjacent cells, with only bars separating them. As soon as the locks of their cells clicked, their hands found each other, gripping tightly as if challenging anyone to force them apart.
“I can’t do it,” Arthur whispered brokenly, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t stand beside my father and watch you get whipped. I can’t do it.”
Merlin squeezed his hand tighter, rubbing his thumb over Arthur’s knuckles. As much as Arthur hated to admit it, Merlin had always been stronger than him. Arthur could feel the slight tremors that agitated his fingers, betraying how anxious Merlin really was at the prospect, but otherwise, he didn’t let it show. He was the one who had been sentenced to twenty lashes. He was the one who would get brutally punished the next morning. And yet it was Merlin who comforted Arthur.
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Merlin whispered. How could he still speak so reassuringly?
“Uther will make sure the person who carries out the sentence won’t go easy on you.”
Merlin’s hand shook in Arthur’s, his grip tightening to the point it became painful. Arthur didn’t care. “My magic won’t let me get hurt too badly. I’ll be fine.”
A sob was wrenched out of Arthur’s chest. An ugly, undignified sound. “How can you be so sure of that?”
Merlin smiled. Through all this pain and fear, he still managed to smile for Arthur’s sake. Arthur wasn’t sure what he had ever done right to deserve such a strong, kind, caring man in his life, but he would do everything in his power to prove himself worthy of Merlin.
“I’m not. But my magic has always protected me, I trust it to take care of me now too.”
“I can’t watch you get hurt, Merlin. Even if your magic protects you, it will still be painful. I should be the one getting punished. I tried telling Uther that I used my position to coerce you into it, that you had no choice in following my orders. I thought he would have spared you, then. But he said it would teach me a lesson.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice soft but firm, “You can’t defy your father. For both our sake, you have to follow his orders. If you challenge his authority, I don’t know whether he’ll take it out on me or on you, but in either case, it’ll only make things worse. Please.”
Arthur knew Merlin was right. If he defied his father, Uther was able to order the both of them to be whipped, but he would surely make it even worse for Merlin. Arthur couldn’t risk it. But the mere thought of having to witness Merlin’s agony while he was powerless to do anything but watch made his gut twist painfully and his heart throb.
Morning came too soon. They were still holding hands when the guards came to fetch them from their cells. They lead Merlin to the courtyard and Arthur to the balcony where Uther was already waiting. Merlin’s hands were tied to a pole, his shirt had been torn from his body and lay in tatters at his feet.
“Watch and learn,” Uther said, his voice as cold and hard as the steel of a sword, “this is what happens when you act like a fool and dishonour our name.”
Arthur didn’t reply. There was nothing he could say. He could never be ashamed of his feelings for Merlin. No matter what Uther said, the only one dishonouring their name was the King himself. He kept his eyes on Merlin the whole time, wincing every time the whip landed on the pale skin of his back. Merlin didn’t scream, he didn’t beg, he didn’t ask for mercy. The punishment was held in public, and a large crowd had gathered to witness it. But they weren’t cheering, they weren’t shouting insults at Merlin. Instead, they silently stared at their King who watched the scene in cold delight. There were tears streaming down Arthur’s face again. He tried to be strong for Merlin, tried to keep a straight face and swallow the sobs and whimpers that fought their way out of his throat. But he wasn’t strong enough to keep the tears from spilling. By the time it was done, Merlin’s back was covered in blood, deep gashes marred his once untouched skin. If it wasn’t for the rope keeping him tied in place, Arthur was sure Merlin would have fallen to the ground.
It was only when everyone had left and Merlin had been abandoned to bleed out that Arthur was allowed to free his lover and carry him to Gaius. Merlin was still clinging to consciousness, whimpering as each step Arthur took caused the pain to flare. The physician allowed Arthur to stay as he took care of Merlin’s wounds. Merlin was in agony, and still he fought to stay awake, his hand squeezing Arthur’s each time Gaius touched a particularly sensitive part of his back. Merlin only fell asleep after Gaius gave him a sleeping draught.
“Merlin is strong, sire. He will recover,” Gaius said, patting Arthur’s shoulder before retreating to work on his potions.
Arthur had no doubt that Merlin would make a full recovery, but it didn’t make what happened any better. The certainty that had been spreading its roots in Arthur’s head and in his heart solidified as he watched his beloved laying pale and wounded on the patient bed. He had to take Uther down.