Archive of Our Own ^beta

It'd started off small, originally seeming so insignificant, so harmless, until it'd blossomed into something bigger. Something that suddenly wasn't so harmless.

What had arisen out of this issue wasn't anything good. Abuse is what Arthur would eventually call it, in Arthur's well-formulated opinion, what Merlin has undergone was abuse. He himself didn't see it as that.

Admittedly, Merlin hadn't exactly caught onto that being what it was at first. More often than not noblemen weren't the fairest people, not to servants at least. So much in fact, that If he thought real hard into it Merlin thinks he'd met maybe three memorable noblemen that'd been kind to him among the thousands that hadn't been. And those three noblemen had been outliers from the rest, outliers that he cherishes regardless.

That's right, noblemen weren't kind, that's why when Lord Creon had come to Camelot, full of a scalding attitude and a heapful of insults, Merlin hadn't thought anything of it. Other's hostility wasn't ever anything to dwell upon, it was normal, just something he'd grown used to like eating his vegetables because his mother had told him to.

And then things picked up, gradually things worsened. It was something that could be excused though, for a man like Creon who still stuck to old ways and traditional values.

So Merlin hadn't let it bother him, not even when he figured out that most of Creon's outdated values weren't in his favor. The man was against servants, wanting to command them, to break their will.

Merlin wasn't willing to break. Wouldn't give that man, or any man or even any sorcerer for that matter, the satisfaction of being the one to break him.

Creon's treatment was nothing, because it had to be nothing. It rivaled the annoyance felt when a thorn was felt prodding into one's side, a bee sting, or a tack pricking and drawing blood. Exasperating but not anything that was intolerable.

In royals eyes, Merlin was sure this could all be classified as harmless teasing. What Creon was doing to him was all in good fun, it was nothing that he needed to reasonably go and complain about. And nothing that he couldn't foresee being able to handle.

Until it wasn't.

The first incident had hardly started off any different from what Merlin routinely did. He'd been walking beside Arthur, as he always was. Footing in sync with the Prince's as they walked throughout the hallways of the castle. There weren't many people gracing the halls, no one around to weave through, yet somehow even at the lack of people around, Merlin still felt strangely disconnected from his friend.

Arthur hadn't voiced that anything was the matter. But Merlin knew, could feel it. Clearing his throat, Merlin's fingers prodded at his neckerchief. Hiking it up further as his line of sight trailed over to Arthur, taking in the elder's side profile. The strong nose bridge, stone-cut jaw, and... those full lips twisted in contemplation.

Yes, while it was true Arthur hadn't said anything, hadn't told Merlin that there was anything to contemplate, it was clear as day, as dark as night — that something was wrong. Yet again, Merlin recapped himself of that as he unabashedly stared. There was something abnormal about the other, he wanted to place what the cause of it was. Merlin's eyes fled from Arthur's face, tracking their movement instead. He couldn't tell if it was the fact that there was a cautionary step in Arthur's steps that had never been present before. Or if it was the level of tenseness at Arthur's broad shoulders.

Merlin couldn't not speak on it,

''Are you okay?'' He questioned sincerely, Arthur's steps stuttered before him. Merlin mimicked the movement himself and stopped. Then, Arthur's steps didn't just pause but they ultimately fell short entirely.

''I'm perfectly fine, Merlin, don't be such a girl,''

''You're fine,'' Merlin repeated.

''Yes, I'm better than,''

''Uh huh, and say you weren't fine,''

''Which would be wholly hypothetical and wouldn't happen because I am, once again, perfectly fine,''

''This wouldn't have anything to do with the nobleman your father said was to be visiting, now would it? Is that what's troubling you?''

Arthur's shoulders stiffened.

''Is my business always your business Merlin? This isn't something that pertains to you,''

''It is then,'' He murmured quietly. ''Well then, don't let his arrival worry you so, you carry on, I’ll hold him off,''

''That's not — ''

''Not necessary, I know. But I have no problem doing it, Arthur, whatever business he has with you, it can wait until a later time, surely?'' Merlin pointed out helpfully. ''The castle is quiet lately, there’s no matter of urgency to attend to — and should there be I will tell you immediately. Even a prat such as yourself needs to relax, Arthur,''

The reply that his remark signaled from Arthur wasn't a vocal one. It rarely was, it came in the form of actions, In a rare display of gratitude, Arthur clapped a hand upon his shoulder. Giving him a grateful look, Merlin only chuckled before slapping the hand off of him. It'd been done light-heartedly, so lighthearted that Arthur hadn't even taken much notice of it other than a quick burst of laughter.

Unbeknownst to the both of them however they weren't alone.

Then, Arthur turned and began walking out of the room, leaving Merlin in the corridor by himself. Merlin let out a small breath. He could only hope this 'Lord' would be more pleasant than some of the others he'd dealt with before.

Merlin rolled his shoulders and turned, continuing to walk down the corridor. He didn't get that far. A startled noise tore from the back of his throat when Merlin's stroll was interrupted. One minute was spent walking, the next he was abruptly cornered against the wall, held in place by a rough hand on his shoulder — darkened ivy eyes piercing his own with a dark glare.

Ivy-green eyes, midnight black hair, and pale, nearly ghostly white skin. The man certainly met the description of what he had heard Uther describing. 

''Ah, you must be the Lord Creon I've heard about,'' Merlin greeted, sounding as warmly as he could muster. ''You've actually just missed Prince Arthur. I assume that's who you're looking for,''

Creon didn't agree with his statement. Thinking on his feet, Merlin came up with a reasonable excuse for Arthur's absence. One he could only hope would appease the other into unhanding him.

''He sends his apologies for not getting to greet you himself, but he has some business to attend to with the council. He says he looks forward to speaking with you another time,''

''I don't know why no one's ever corrected you as they should. But you really should be more respectful towards your Prince,'' Lord Creon damn near growled the words as his grip on Merlin’s shoulder tightened. Merlin’s jaw clenched slightly. ''It shouldn't be this difficult to remember your place,''

Oh, right, Lord Creon hadn't yet dropped that thought. So, that was how this was going to be.

He leveled the male with a glare of his own, jutting his chin out slightly in defiance. Creon must have seen Merlin brush off Arthur's hand before. Must have been passing by — or, lingering around, a darker part of his mind provided. He pushed that option away. Creon was newly visiting, it was natural for the man to be still defensive over Arthur.

''Lord Creon,'' Merlin said, tone a deathly calm, ''I'm sure what we have here is only a bout of miscommunication. Even so, I do implore you to do the right thing by taking your hand off of me,''

In contradiction to his words, Creon's grip only tightened further. Merlin gritted his teeth not to wince. There would no doubt be bruises left behind — light but present. He already knew it.

''You dare try and deceive me and plead such things of me? You have no business laying your hands on the Prince,'' Lord Creon pushed, glare darkening. ''He doesn't need your filthy servant hands on him, worthless boy,''

Half of him wanted to roll his eyes, he was sick of these visitors who came and acted as though a servant's touch was some kind of god-awful plague. It was good enough to tend to their every waking need, yet somehow servants were deemed 'unworthy' to make contact with.

The other half of his being was more amused if anything. Worthless, huh? That's all the man could come up with? He'd heard that one before back in Ealdor countless of times. Along with bastard, useless, and an extremity of other insults. Eventually, they lost their meaning. He wasn't going to go snivel and cry at Creon's poorly made insult like the male wanted.

Merlin stared at the newly introduced man in silence for a moment, waiting for Creon to continue. Forcing his facial expressions to obey him and not be so expressive. He waited for this man to get this whole speal out and in the open, as well as waiting for the nobleman to do something else. When Creon didn’t do much of anything other than glower at him, Merlin did the next thing he could think of. He lifted his own hand and grabbed Creon’s wrist before wrenching the man’s hand off his shoulder.

If they'd been in a different situation then Merlin would've almost have found what happened next funny. Lord Creon looked ready to pop a vein by the time Merlin dropped his wrist — stunned for whatever reason.

Merlin took the opportunity to slide out of between him and the wall. He brushed off his shoulder and straightened his posture, raising his chin and looking down his nose at Lord Creon. From there, he could tell he was about a few inches shorter than the dark-haired elder.

''And you, Lord Creon,'' he began, taking perhaps too much joy in the way the Knight stared at him with wide, dumbstruck eyes. ''You have no business laying your hands on me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to perform for Prince Arthur. Have whatever kind of day you deserve,''

That'd been what'd started it, and yeah, in hindsight, maybe Merlin had let his mouthiness get a tad out of hand. At the time it'd seemed deserved, now though? He knew he'd soon pay for it.

All he knew now was that this was the one event that'd set the pendulum that was Creon's hostility toward him swinging.

Two things in particular followed that event. One, his shoulder did in fact bruise as he'd said it would. How could it not when the less-than-noble man's grip had been so relentless?

And two, he didn’t tell Arthur, nor did he go around showcasing his newly formed bruise. Because he truly didn’t see the importance. It was just a nobleman making a small mistake. The middle-aged man would learn of why this wouldn't always be tolerated, of why the damaging touches weren't welcomed. And Lord Creon would get better, and there was no reason to make it a big thing. Which brought him to why he couldn't say anything to the Crowned Prince, he knew Arthur  — and he knew Arthur would make this out to be a bigger ordeal.

There was no doubt in his mind that that's what would happen, Arthur had always been much too quick to wield a sword for him. Truthfully If Merlin wasn’t the same with his magic, he wouldn't understand Arthur's willingness of protecting him. He would be confused and wouldn’t understand how someone could be so wildly protective of another. Sometimes he still wasn't sure he quite understood Arthur's side of this. Pushing that thought aside, though, all points still stood. Arthur had too much on his plate to deal with petty noblemen who haven’t learned the ways of Camelot yet. So, Merlin kept his mouth shut.

It was just a one-time thing.

He really didn’t think it would happen again.

Merlin was really getting sick and tired of jinxing things.

As if the substandard first impression of the other wasn't bad enough, he gets to see his assailant more. Merlin doesn't get lucky in avoiding the nobleman, soon after, Creon encounters him a second time.

The second incident had caught him off guard, while it was apparent that it hadn't surprised him more than the first — the feeling was still evident. This time though? It was different than the first, it seemed as though the male had actively sought him out. There was no granted reasoning that Creon would have been climbing the stairs at the same time he had. It hadn't even seemed coincidental either.

Merlin had been performing such an average task, getting on with his rather mundane day so that he could flop into his bed later. Again, he'd been unsuspecting that it'd turn into anything else. Slender arms strained as Merlin held onto the pails of hot water. Arthur had insisted that the bath he'd left for the other had been lukewarm at best. And that the blonde wouldn't settle for it being any less than warm water. So Merlin had been sent out with the orders of fetching Arthur some 'suitable' bath water.

Retrieving the water had gone quite smoothly, that wasn't the problem. It was bringing it back to Arthur that had a problem arising. The problem presented itself as he was trekking up the stairs, balancing the heavy pails of water in his hands. As he went up, Merlin hadn't even seen the man, honest, he wasn't even aware of Creon's presence until he'd stumbled into the Lord. As he tripped up, the pails of liquid dowsed him, soaking his midnight blue shirt in the process. It was hot enough that it felt scorching for a half of a second as the water seeped into his chest. Merlin choked back an indignant cry, not yet looking up at who he'd collided with.

''Could you try and watch where you're going — oh, Lord Creon,'' Merlin trailed off, left slightly aghast upon realizing who'd he run into. Oh, this wasn't good.

One look down, proved that things could've been worse. The liquid had astonishingly missed Creon, not a single droplet had fallen on the man except for a single dribble on the man's otherwise pristine dress shoes. Merlin bemoaned as the male's eyes fell on the evidence.

''You useless vermin, making a mess, you can't do anything right, can you?''

With every ounce of self-restraint he had, Merlin forced his sharp tongue to not get involved or retort. He suppressed the tingling of his magic that he felt at his fingertips. Even as it begged and pleaded with his mind for him to let it free. It was a strong feeling, one that had him submerged in the presentiment.

No matter how much his magic wanted to come to light and be used in his defense, he wouldn't allow it, he couldn't. Not if he wanted to keep his head intact and be allowed on the premises of Camelot. Being cooperative and bearing the nobleman's mistreatment was the only way he could do that. Was the only way he would be authorized to continue protecting Arthur.

So no magic, nobody wanted a sorcerer in their kingdom. And so, Merlin took to the task of coercing his body into obeying him. Pushing his magic down.

It'd be fine.

This was nothing, nothing he couldn't handle. A few cutting words at his expense had never been enough to phase him or keep him down.

Every part of his body wanted to believe that that's all this would be, was an emotional lashing. That the Lord would snipe him with a few creative insults before leaving him to be.

None of which happened. What did, was Lord Creon moving forward. Doing so directly after spewing the insult at him, going as far as crowding into his space as an intimidation tactic. Before gripping at him by his shirt, fisting the material as the elder drags him up by it. It's at the point where Merlin's feet are hefted off of the stairs from the rug on his body.

And Merlins never felt particularly short before, has always been tall and lanky. But now? Now he does, Creon's got some height on him. Is taller than Merlin by at least a couple of inches. It just goes to show how detrimental those few inches are while used against him.

He thinks he knows why the nobleman's doing this all now, why the male's being more bold now. And part of Merlin thinks it's probably because the elder knows the likeliness that Creon's going to get himself caught soon. And in turn, the vile man is trying desperately to squeeze in as many victim's, to beat on as many servants as possible — which makes Merlin more than a little nauseous. 

''Oh my, I didn't — Lord Creon, it was an accident,'' He hisses out with what composure he has left still intact. But Creon isn't done, hasn't given up on tormenting him. ''I swear, I didn't mean to run into you,''

Creon isn't done with him yet because it's Creon who hauls Merlin up further and pushes him into the castle's stone wall. He slams into it and cringes as his back makes contact with the cold surface. His back is definitely going to be more than a little cut and bruised up with the amount of force he's being thrown around with.

''As is your entire existence, it's a wonder Arthur keeps you around,'' Creon says venomously, spittle flinging at Merlin's face that he wishes to wipe off. ''Does he punish you often enough to avoid blunders such as this?''

The leftover spittle on him feels disgusting but it's nothing compared to the words spilt.

The sting Merlin feels at the words is unexpected. He's poised to deny having felt it, and why the hell should he care what Creon thinks? The man doesn't know him personally, aren't even friends, anything this man knows about his and Arthur's dynamic is that of a bystanders perspective. One who doesn't understand.

''Define punish,''

''Flogging, beatings, withholding food, branding. You know, the common punishments that're seen for this level of disrespect,''

''Don't depict him as being capable of being so cruel, the prince wouldn't do that to any of his help, not even me,''

''And that is his problem,'' Creon exclaims, matter of factly. ''Surely not even he is foolish enough to not see that you aren't good for anything, you'd stumble over just about anything! Even your own two feet,''

''For one, I've already apologized, and two, don't kid yourself, my lord, to tell yourself Arthur will make anything other than a great king one day would be ludicrous of you. He's hardly foolish,''

''And that apology wasn't acceptable enough,''

''But —''

''I will not hear it, I demand silence out of you, boy. I've heard quite enough from you and through your constant blubbering I've still said your apology isn't enough. And It won't be until you've paid with your blood tears and sweat. Then again that's all one as low class as you could ever hope of having to offer,''

On queue, the cruel male delivers a cruel blow to Merlin's gut. His eyes widen, breath knocked out of him. He has the urge to sag like a puppet without its puppeteer, but Creon only holds him there tighter. Creon only stares down at him with beady eyes, beady eyes that grow impossibly more so when Merlin tries to free himself. Creon's hands clasp around his wrists, tightening subsequently. The sorcerer already knows that later, once he's separated and at a safe distance away from Creon, that there'll be rings of redness around them.

''You should know you won't get away with this, us servants aren't here to be pushed around when you're feeling a little bored. I'll,'' Merlin's voice momentarily broke, shattering to the floor like a poorly made ceramic statue. ''I'll tell Arthur of what you've done,''

Creon picks up on the pieces of his voice, notices the weakness in them, notices that Merlin's not as sure of what he's saying as he likes to think. And Creon smiles, teeth glinting in an animalistic sort of way if Merlin's ever seen one. And then, Creon uses that weakness as leverage. Merlin really should've known better than to speak.

''You're wrong, you won't be saying anything about this,''

''And why not?''

''Because you can't honestly think he'd take the word of a lowly serving boy such as yourself over mine? I know Arthur and I know he isn't too fond of you. Certainly not enough for him to side with you,''

Merlin stayed quiet, it was all that he could do. Was that true? He wasn't of noble blood or noble descent. He was a mutt, a mere servant. Obviously, if given the choice Arthur would side with a noble.

''I'll be taking my leave now, not one word of this shall get out, alright? I promise I'll be seeing you around more often from here on out, Merlin, I'll know if you choose to step out of line again,''

Is what Creon says to him and with that final parting word the royal is gone.

On the other hand, Merlin's own departure isn't so brisk. It takes him a few moments to collect himself, pulling himself up from the stairs. Picking the emptied pails up and sidestepping the water that's now drenching the stairs. It takes a few more to breathe through the pain. He knows he has to go back out there, that he has duties assigned to him, a destiny to fulfill. None of which are going to stop on his account.

Still, Merlin truly doesn't want to face anyone right now. This whole ordeal was making him not want to face anyone ever.

Thing was, Merlin didn't go and inform Arthur at the first notice of the badgering growing physical like most thought he would. They expected that of him, crying wolf would surely not help him at all.

And as for not telling his destined friend, Arthur of this? He hadn't done so because...because well of course he didn't, it wasn't needed. Something he'd never let his mother, Hunith know is that Merlin had been bullied enough in his childhood, he was made an easy target. While his mother knew of kids being rude toward him, she never was filled in for how bad it got. Being seen as a bastard and all didn't make you friends, so yeah, he'd been put through enough to know that confiding in someone didn't help. It wasn't necessary in his humble opinion.

But that being said, Merlin had also for some reason expected this to be like the standard bullying he was used to. The kind that he knew like he knew the back of his hand. Where the assailant would pick and prod anyway they knew how. Eventually, it'd come to a still when they'd grow tired of not being reacted to. And have eventually left him alone. Merlin had thought Lord Creon's mistreatment to be a one-time thing.

Arthur Pendragon had nearly forgotten of what Merlin had done for him earlier, had nearly forgotten that Merlin had covered for him in the first place. By the next time he catches sight of the other, his servant arrived in his quarters sometime midday, helping him rid himself of his armor. Nimble fingertips help ease him out of the chainmail of his, Arthur has to stop himself from sighing out of relief once the gear leaves his sweat-soaked skin. Immediately, Merlin scampers elsewhere, taking the abandoned armor with.

He tipped his head back, sweat-soaked blonde strands plastering to his forehead. It didn't take long for his eyes to search for Merlin. Admittedly, when they did find his manservant, the relief felt would be short-lived. And this vital moment would be something Arthur would store in his mind for the days to come. It would prove to be the first incident that Arthur had noticed something out of the ordinary.

His manservant's sleeve had slid up a fraction, that's all that was needed for a singular bruise to show from around Merlin's wrist. As stark and unconcealed as it may be, it flashes at Arthur from against Merlin's ivory skin. He pauses at the sight, tilting his head upwards with practiced calmness. His eyes track the young man as his manservant leaves the folded pile of chainmail, heading toward a table with a pitcher and goblet.

''Ah, Merlin? Hold on a second,'' He calls, trying to keep his voice even, Merlin doesn't halt the tasks the younger had been doing prior. ''I said hold on, I've got to ask you something,''

''Can't it wait? I've still yet to complete the rest of the tasks you've assigned me. I swear you assign more each day out of spite,''

''It very well can't,'' Arthur enjoins. ''And that wouldn't be such an issue if you weren't always lollygagging about,''

''I think I've predicted what you were going to say. Meaning we can skip over the portion where you were about to talk,''

''Oh, really?''

''Yeah, I know what you're going to ask, and no I will not be cutting more notches into your belt, Arthur,'' Merlin wisecracks. ''That'd be the second time this month,''

''Cut it out, my belt and I are doing just fine,'' Arthur snaps back indignantly. ''Alright Merlin, back to my point, what is that?''

''What's what?''

Arthur looked at the younger thoroughly unimpressed. Merlin stalled, gesturing toward the object that was being held within the servant's hand.

''Oh this, well, you see, my dear clotpole, this is what's called a pitcher, and it's most commonly used by us servants to avoid your cup from running dry,'' Merlin quips, looking amused. ''It comes in rather handy considering the last time that happened you lobbed me in the head with a goblet,''

Arthur's expression tilts upwards ever so slightly. But then he shakes his head, rolls his eyes up to the sky as if looking for divine intervention, and blows a breath out. And Merlin is struck by the fact that Arthur looks fond, fond of Merlin almost.

''Nobody ever told me people that're this dramatic actually existed, I figured servants this theatrical were all make-believe, I wasn't ready for you,''

''Likewise, I honestly never knew princes got this whiney until meeting you of course,''

''Oh, yes Merlin, because you've just met so many princes,'' Arthur ripostes sarcastically.

''I have, I've met plenty! And you Arthur are by far the least pleasurable one I've met,''

''Uh huh,'' Arthur says. ''Seriously though, it'd do you well to cut the dramatics. I mean when have I ever hit you, much less lobbed you with a goblet?''

''We're getting into this?''

''Yes, we are,''

''If you're asking for specific examples, I have a few on hand. Let's see, you threw a goblet the other day expecting me to what did you say? Oh yeah, expecting for me to dodge it, because I forgot, it's apparently an entirely normal thing to have a cup thrown at you. My fault, should've been more prepared, and on top of that there was the time when —''

''That's all aside the point, and you know that isn't what I was asking you about in the first place. I meant the mark I seen on your wrist, Merlin. What's it come from?'' The Prince replied, trying to keep some fondness out of his voice to replace it with irritation and keeping his eyes on his servant. ''That's what I was asking about,''

''Oh, I didn't think you'd noticed that,''

''Fortunately, I did,'' Arthur divulged, sea-colored eyes narrowing at the implications of Merlin's comment. ''So now we're at the point where you tell me where it came from. Don't think playing it off as something I've done is going to work either. I know it wasn't from me or sparring considering I haven't been working you that hard lately,''

Merlin’s movements didn’t falter, but the merry look on the younger's face dimmed for a fraction.

''We're still on this?'' The young raven replied, voice sounding practiced, ''Look, I — erm, who knows where I got it from. It didn't hurt enough for me to notice until you'd pointed it out. I'm guessing it came from the… tavern maybe?''

''The tavern,'' Arthur repeated testily. ''Got it, now my next question would be are you asking or telling me that that's where it came from?'' Arthur inquired, a bit amused.

''I'm telling you, obviously dollop-head,'' Merlin's head bobbed up and down in a nod, ''If you couldn't tell that then maybe it'd do you well to get your ears checked,''

''It's a wonder I haven't put you in the stocks for your insolence by now, lord knows it'd make my life easier. But lucky for you I'll make an exception just this once,''

''How generous of you —''

''If,'' Arthur began, ''And only if you can promise me that you're telling me the truth,''

Ever so slightly, Merlin's breath hitched, it was brief, nearly undetectable. But Arthur caught it, and Arthur knew.

''I am, it's nothing, really, I'm sure I had too much ale. Gwaine says I turn into a blundering fool while drunk, I probably just fell and bruised from hitting it on a stool or something,'' Flimsily, Merlin grins. ''You of all people know how I get… I just can’t seem to stay away from the tavern,''

Merlin added with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Begrudgingly, Arthur only nods, realizing they’re at an impasse, and decides to leave it. For now.

''If you say so…'' Arthur trailed off as his eyes tried to find once again the bruise, but by then Merlin's arm had already been withdrawn from him.

It didn't stop the blond as he kept staring at Merlin, an uneasy feeling had already settled in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn't right, he just didn't know what.

From then on it was set into stone that Merlin was acting strange. Peculiar behavior was Merlin's common behavior, dare he even say it was Merlin's forte. That's why small nervous quirks about the man were something that Arthur could normally write off.

So why is it that this feels different? Why doesn't it feel like he can just brush this under the rug this time?

Arthur muses over it during a celebratory dinner his father had decided to host. Dedicated to the safe arrival of a nobleman. He sits at the dinner table, served with a variety of food, all he can find himself doing however is staring bleakly at the tapestry hanging about. That damned Merlin, always having him worrying. Arthur was a Prince, he wasn't made for worrying, wasn't made for getting attached. And somehow Merlin had gotten him to do both.

Arthur isn't in his element during dinner, he's distracted. Late to adding into conversations, maybe that's why It's not until later that Arthur notices the main guest. Not until later that he sees just who the nobleman is.

When his eyes do glimpse at the nobleman, Arthur's not sure that's even who he's looking at. Merlin who's standing next to the noble is who gains his attention. The raven-haired boy's posture was incredibly stiff, lips pressed into a thin line, head bowed and hands clasped behind the younger in a submissive way. One that by all means Merlin should not be in, after all the years Arthur had taken to know Merlin, he could say that the stance just didn't suit the other. It didn't fit Merlin or the boy's boisterous personality.

Arthur must've been looking for too long, since the nobleman runs with the idea that Arthur had been looking at him.

''Ah, hello Prince Arthur, It's absurd to me that it's been so long without seeing you. So long that I nearly didn't recognize you there,''

''Lord Creon?''

''The one, the only,''

''My father didn't tell me you'd be arriving here so soon, what a surprise,'' Arthur greeted shortly. ''And I could stand to say the same about you, you're looking much more...wise,''

''Wise is what word you settle up on?'' Creon laughs. ''Oh, don't be so softspoken. If you are to be a future king, Arthur, then you'll have to speak your mind. You mean I've aged,'' Creon corrected, a tight-lipped smile in place. ''It's alright, I don't take offense to such remarks, after all, I as a man do not fear what age has to offer,''

''I suppose not,''

''You, however, my boy, have not gotten away from aging yourself. You've grown, plenty. The last time I saw you you'd been but a mere boy,''

''Times have changed since then,'' Arthur flicked his eyes and general attention to Merlin, then back to Creon. Tone assertive he responded, ''I see you've become acquainted with my servant,''

''This knobby-kneed boy here is your servant?''

''Yes, that'd be Merlin,''

''Do tell, Prince Arthur, how did you happen upon him?''

''A vial of poison was slipped into my drink during a banquet, it went unnoticed by me. I hadn't thought of the dangers of leaving my drink unattended. And it went unnoticed to any of our guests as well, all except one. My father chose him to serve me after Merlin'd intercepted that attack on my life. I guess I've kept him around since then. He's been appointed to me for a few years now, he also attends to any tasks that Gaius our physician gives him, he gathers herbs and such for him,''

''So he intervened in an attempt on your life once. And now from what I'm seeing here is that you simply keep him around as an errand boy?'' Arthur's brows furrowed. ''Well, is he?''

''I'm not sure I'd phrase it like that, but more or less yes,''

''Well then yes, now that you've cleared up who this Merlin fellow is, unfortunately, I do believe I have become acquainted with your little errand boy,''

''Oh? I can't help but notice how displeased you sound,'' Arthur calculated.

''How kind of you to notice,'' The elder begins. ''It's funny, I always was told you'd make a fine king someday. That you were attentive as they come, now I think I see it,''

Flattery gets you nowhere, Arthur mentally rebuked.

''Is something wrong then? It seems to be related to my servant, whatever it is it shall be taken care of,''

Creon nods.

''I apologize if it has to do with him. That's it, isn't it? Has Merlin's service as of late, not been up to par with your standards?''

''I do apologize, for the fact that I'd rather not discuss your unsatisfactory servant in front of that said serving boy,''

''Right, I see. So it is an issue with him then,'' Arthur lamented warily. ''That's no problem, Merlin, won't you go off and get us refills?''

''Arthur —''

''Go on,''

''But Sire, he —'' Merlin began, only to cut off as Arthur threw the younger a sharp look.

''Yes?''

Something in Merlin's demeanor crumples, Arthur almost feels bad. He reminds himself that this is for Merlin, that he sent the other away because the male had seemed uncomfortable in Creon's presence.

''Nevermind, it was nothing of any importance,'' Merlin said dismissively. ''But of course, I'll be back with those soon,''

''Take your time,'' Arthur responded. ''And while you're at it, I believe I have a suite of armor that still needs polishing,''

''Yes, however, could that have slipped my mind? I'll get right to it,'' Merlin murmured, although Arthur could have sworn he'd heard something mumbled after that faintly resembled the word 'prat'.

''I'd prefer that the task be done without the additional snark added in, Merlin,'

''Yes, Sire,''

''You must tell me more about you and this Merlin boy, call me officially intrigued. Does he always behave in such a manner?''

''What do you mean?''

''You don't see the issue with it?''

''I'm beyond that, I'm not sure I understand what you're implying,''

''The implications are already here, I was wondering if that boy is always so — so insufferable, so insolent? I mean no harm in speaking out, and I'm not trying to cross you or intrude but do you truly let him speak to you that way?''

''Perhaps we should have this conversation another time. This isn't what we agreed to conversate about. You had me send him away, I did. I sent him off for now, now what is it you wanted to discuss?''

''My curiosity still hasn't dimmed l, don't you ever discipline him for addressing you the way that he does? He acts like he's never been met with punishment a day in his life. A nice drawn-out flogging would fix him up real nicely,'' Creon suggests, voice sickeningly sweet. ''Might even adjust his poor attitude,''

Arthur grits his teeth.

''Don't worry, Merlin's handled just fine,''

''But are you sure? You're sure you haven't been slacking on the disciplinary measures? It's okay to admit it if you have, happens to the best of us. Even doing so just a bit is bad for the servants. Has them believing that they can think for themselves, that they can behave unorderly,''

''I'm more than sure, Merlin is fine with me. Moving on, what was it that you originally wanted to talk about, Creon? Other than my personal manservant,''

''Oh, it's nothing, really — it's just that I wanted to assist you, propose something. When I see an issue, I can't help but want to fix it,''

''And what were you wanting to offer assistance for?''

Creon's mouth fitted into a wolfish smile,

''You have quite a… special servant, a troublesome one at best, but I'm sure you already know that? If I may be so brash here, I  think It'd do you good to let me borrow him,''

In surprise, Arthur choked. Throwing an arm up against his chin and coughing into it.

''Sorry, I — excuse me, I must've misheard you, what was that?''

''I said I'd like for you to lend me the boy,''

Pardon? Merlin wasn't an object that could just be lent around.

''You'd like to borrow Merlin? And what is your purpose with him? Because despite popular belief of the noblemen that come to Camelot, Merlin is not a bedwarmer, I won't be lending him out as one,''

''I don't wish to have him as one,''

''Then what do you want him for?''

''I know that's asking for a lot, asking for your main servant and all. So I'd make sure it'd be a quick task, really. At most one night with the boy is all I'd need. Heaven only knows the fool needs to learn some manners, by the time I'd return him he'd be acting well within his rights, Merlin would realize how small he is in social class. He'd know his place,''

''Absolutely not,''

Arthur feels himself go cold as he takes a second to imagine a life without Merlin by his side and it. Is. Absolute. Hell.

''You won't reconsider? Surely you must see that I'd be doing you a favor,''

''I know that you see it as such, however, I've considered what you've said for as long as I need to. And the answer is still no, Lord Creon,''

''I see, how unfortunate it is that we couldn't come upon a compromise,''

''Yes, very,'' Arthur said, composure slipping.

''May I know your reasoning for rejecting my offer?''

''It's simple really, Merlin's duty is to me, and he has a place is here in Camelot, no matter how insufferable he may be. That means that while he is here your customs and form of punishments are not something that're abided,''

''With all due respect, young prince, I think that's something that's rather unfair. What would other noblemen think of you allowing such disrespect to take place in Camelot?''

Lord Creon’s voice hit back with force and Arthur stared back at the visiting noble.

''There's never been any issues with this before, I've never had anyone question my ways either. Only you are the one whose had one. And in the future, if anyone does see an issue with the way I do things then they can take that up with me,''

''Look, I know you mean no harm in this, prince. You're just rather uneducated, luckily for you, this is something I'll overlook however seeing as your lack of age is something that might've confused you with this all,''

''Point blank, your words aren't going to sway my decision. My opinion remains untainted, Merlin stays with me, untouched,''

''If you say so,'' Creon says, ''Oh, and one last thing, Arthur?''

''What?''

''For the future, I'd learn to choose your battles with this sort of thing. After all, you wouldn't want to burn bridges with anyone now would you, Prince Arthur?''

''Is that a threat? One should know that threatening a prince counts as high treason. Not even your ties with my father could get you out of that one,''

''Course not, don't mistake my intentions so easily. This in no way was meant to intimidate you, it's but a friendly reminder,''

Just as quickly as the threat had been uttered But Creon simply purses his lips, before bowing to Arthur and leaving, footsteps loud and heavy with recognizable anger.

It's not something he feels bad about, Creon's tantrum isn't one that falls on him. Arthur's eyes fall elsewhere, looking around to see if he can catch sight of someone, he does. Merlin across the room, looking relieved at Creon's exit, then Arthur gets caught for looking. And Merlin’s staring at Arthur with an emotion the blond can’t place gleaming in those eyes.

It's okay though, Merlin's okay. That's all Arthur can think about.

''Who the hell does he think he is? Questioning me and my methods within the walls of my own kingdom,'' Arthur raged the second his chamber doors closed behind him. ''He may be closely knitted with my father but I am the crowned Prince! He can’t defy me so openly like that!''

Merlin stood dawning a slightly thoughtful expression but otherwise said nothing. The dark-haired man didn't make any of the usual quips that made them Arthur & Merlin.

This only seemed to distress Arthur more as he paced, Merlin let out a long sigh and plastered a condescending smile on gentle face,

''That's all fine and dandy except you still haven't told me what it is he said to you, Arthur,''

''Merlin, I'm going to ask you something, don't be a twit about answering either,''

''It appears answering isn't an optional thing,''

''Look at you, your learning,''

Merlin grins back at him sarcastically.

''Ha ha,'' The younger man indulges Arthur back dryly.

''I need to know something, what'd you do to anger Lord Creon so badly?''

''He's said that...I've angered him?''

''Read in between the lines, yes, you angered him, Merlin. It wasn't something that needed to be voiced when his passive aggression toward you is there. What did you do? He's not been here for but more than a few days and you've already seated yourself as a target,''

''Jeez, you always assume it's something I've done, don't you? It's always the Servant or Steward's fault, never anyone else's, is it?''

''Was it not?''

Merlin stayed silent. Arthur's composure lapsed, he found himself averting his eyes away from his manservant before speaking.

''Stop looking at me like that, I'm not the enemy and I'm definitely not against you,''

There was a moment of silence — a beat of hesitation — then, a soft sigh.

''Kinda' seems as though you are,''

No.

No, no, no, that isn’t right.

This isn’t right.

Merlin is the very man who waltzed right up to Arthur on his first day in Camelot and told him to stop being a prat.

Merlin is the man who metaphorically spat in Uther’s face as often as possible.

Merlin is the man who demanded that everyone is treated as a person, be they servant or noble, or royal. Merlin isn't the one who should be thinking Arthur of all people would be against the boy.

This here, this is wrong.

''Get that nonsensical thought out of your mind then, because I'm not. All I'm saying is to tread warily from now on, it's not bright to go off angering nobles. Others aren't like me, Merlin, others don't tolerate half of what I do. There are some noblemen who haven't yet let go of the belief that servants are there to do as they deem fit. That includes disciplining them, if anything, and I have no idea why this is — if anything I'm looking out for you,''

''I know,''

''Then you need to act like it, if you know then you should be hunkering down and staying out of his way Merlin, not attracting more attention to yourself,''

''Easier said than done, my prince,''

Eventually, the entire situation had grown out of hand. It'd bloomed into something ugly, something that even Merlin couldn't brush off anymore. So he didn't, he stopped pretending like this was all a mistake or a one-time thing. He stopped pretending like the unkind touches were a one-time thing.

This was just Merlin's life now, and that was okay. Because it had to be okay. It had to be okay with him because this thing between him and Lord Creon doesn't just resolve itself like Merlin hoped it would. It won't.

There's a chance it never will, there's always the chance that this is just his life now. That Merlin has hopelessly condemned himself to this life of suffering. He wouldn't be surprised if that were the case with how the more time that goes on of this, the harder it becomes for him to just bloody say something to someone about it. And maybe Creon knows, maybe the nobleman takes that as a weakness. It's not a hard conclusion to come upon with the way that Creon just doesn't quit. Never quitting, never easing up on him. And frankly, the bruises are only racking up on Merlin's body by the day. He's running out of space to house the discolored and broken skin.

The second Creon spots him though, Merlin supposes, what's a few more bruises to add to the mix? As always in their routine, it's Creon that stalks toward him. Crashing into him like a meteor.

''Not that you have any right to know this but I'm leaving for a day or two for some business matters, I need to address something beforehand with Prince Arthur. Be of use and see to it that you fetch the prince for me, at once,''

''I cannot,''

''You will,''

''Shall not,''

''My goodness, I don't think you're hearing me, you must be deaf or severely lacking brain cells. Get this, I'm not asking what you'd like to do anymore, I'm commanding you,''

''I'm sorry to refute that command then, but for now Arthur has expressed that he doesn't wish to be disturbed. I'm asking you to leave until the prince is ready to see you,''

''This is ridiculous,'' Creon announces belatedly.
''I don't have time for this. Move out of my way peasant, I need to see Prince Arthur, now,''

''Sir, my answer is and will still be the same as it was a second ago. Arthur hasn't yet finished his breakfast or getting dressed for the day, I'm afraid he won't meet with anyone up until he's done,''

''You see, pet, I'll be frank with you, I’ve had enough of your insubordination. And when I speak to the prince later I shall tell him how displeased I am by your behaviour. Perhaps a flogging or some time in the stocks will teach you a thing or two about manners,''

Before allowing him a chance to speak, Creon backhands Merlin, hard enough for him to hit the ground. When Merlin hits the floor, it doesn’t hurt. Not the way it should. His heart has been cauterized, his nerves burnt down to ember-tainted ends. Even when his head cracks against the ground, he can’t muster the energy to do anything but cry out, curling in a futile attempt to shield himself from the oncoming attack.

This man is always there, always hovering over him like a looming rain cloud, Creon continues to stand over him.

''Creon, stop —''

''What was that, boy?''

''I said stop,''

The elder stoops down low, into a crouch. Entertained as Merlin flinches, Creon only leans forward. Invading what was left of Merlin's space.

''No, no, there's where you've messed up. You don't say anything to me, you ask. If you wish for me to stop hitting you? Then you must ask but you certainly won't be ordering me not to. Don't you ever think you are good enough to tell me anything, Merlin,'' The words tumble low into Merlin's ear, and a shiver crawls down his spine. He tries to wriggle free from the grip on him but Creon stops him with a hand on his back, holds him in place. ''You will address me as Lord Creon and nothing else, I won't have a lowly servant strip me of that title,''

''Do you understand?'' No response, so Creon's temper doubles. Smacking him again, Creon waits for an answer. He can't act like he's shocked this time when he feels the slap. ''Answering wasn't optional, I said do you understand?''

''Yes,''

''Yes, what?''

''Yes,'' Merlin ground out. ''I understand,''

''Let's keep it that way, a person like you should always know their place,''

It'd been three days since Lord Creon had taken residence in Camelot, and subsequently three days of Merlin looking relatively unhappy, the younger hasn’t even been smiling at all. Arthur likes to pretend there isn't correlation there even though Arthur also swears that it must be connected.

He only swears it's unconnected out of the fact that he has faith Merlin would've told him had it been.

But apart from the bruise on Merlin’s wrist and the lack of smiles, life continues as normal in Camelot — until the fifth day. When Arthur finds that he can't not comment on the unusual silence anymore.

''Is there any reason in specific for why you’ve been strangely quiet today?'' Arthur commented. ''Don't say it's nothing because I don't think I'm imagining this either, not with the way you've been more... more reserved and dare I say respectful lately,''

''Didn't sleep well is all,''

"That is all?''

''Yes, that's all,''

''You're sure? The way you've been lately — It's not like you, thing is, I'm not sure I'm all that fond of this new you either,''

Merlin stayed silent.

''Come on, what is it, Merlin? Level with me here and tell me why've you been acting so different?''

''It's nothing, legitimately I'm doing fine, Sire. Just doing as you've asked,''

It's not nothing, it was something.

''What? So that's it, isn't it? This all started because of the comment I made, the one about hunkering down and staying out of his way, isn't it? Don't tell me you're upset over that,'' Arthur insisted. ''God, that didn't apply to me, to think it did would make you an oaf,''

When Merlin didn't retort, Arthur softened.

''Fine, I suppose I won’t push you on it, only because that's not my place to do so,'' Arthur murmured, rare, open concern coloring his voice, ''So long as you know that you can speak up if something's the matter, that if anything is going on… no matter what it is, you can tell me, and you have my word that I won't cast it aside as something trivial,''

''...Thank you, Arthur,''

''It's not a problem Merlin,''

''I didn't know you were capable of being anything other than a prat,''

''Watch it,''

It's not like he doesn't know he's been different, Merlin's aware he isn't the same as who he was before this all. Not by a long shot. But trauma has a funny way of stripping your being, stripping you, of who and what you once were.

The last thing he wants is that, the last thing Merlin would want in this lifetime is to become a shell of what he once was. So he keeps up with the quips, accompanies Arthur wherever Arthur may go, and adds in his habitual amount of snark where it's needed.

Or rather, he tries to do that all. He falls short, his quips aren't as sharp-witted, he's more silent when he does accompany Arthur, and his usual snark feels flimsy. Even though Merlin tries to act like himself, tries to keep a sense of normalcy things aren't the same. They aren't like they were before Creon — he and Arthur certainly aren't either. Gone is the easy camaraderie, smiles, and jokes they'd had. The two of them, they're not on the same wavelength anymore. Merlin tries pathetically hard to keep Arthur from seeing what's been going on, and Arthur? Arthur fights him on it, through push and shove, tooth and nail. It's an ever-waning battle — Merlin doesn't call Arthur out on it, but Arthur doesn't back down either.

Merlin doesn't know the day when it'd become more than just him and Arthur involved in this matter. Doesn't know when the Knights Of The Round Table had noticed something to be up with him as well. Doesn't know when they'd decided to make it their problem or when they'd chosen to seek him out. But it was clear that they had.

''Merlin, everything okay?''

Whetstone in hand, Merlin paused, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sound of Gwaine's voice being so close to him. The sudden proximity of it threw him off guard. He stared down at the half-sharpened sword in his grip and sighed, shrugging.

It took a moment for him to eventually look up from the weaponry he was sharpening. When he did, he noticed Gwaine standing nothing short of a few feet away from him. Lancelot lingered at Gwaine's side with a disconsolated expression. He should've known it'd be them, he doesn't know why he didn't think. Gwaine is not one that's known for being discreet when it comes to care or affection toward him. Nor is the knight especially reserved in demonstrating that the brunette is here for Merlin, not for Camelot, not for Arthur even, but simply for Merlin. Usually, that reminder lightens something in his chest. Because sometimes Merlin just needs a little reminder that he’s worth fighting for too, and that hes not fighting something bigger than himself. Perpetually though, Merlin doesn't feel light and airy at Gwaine's affection for him, he feels trapped. He's had to lie to Arthur about Creon so much as is, he doesn't want to lie to Gwaine or Lancelot. Who're two of his dearest friends.

Fortunately for Merlin, Gwaine's oblivious of his inner dilemma. That and the knight hadn't seemed to of noticed the distinct shrug of his shoulders, only focused on Merlin's general reaction and jumpiness. Frowning at him in unconcealed concern, Gwaine's hands raised in a placating gesture. In contrast to Gwaine's movement, the brunette proceeded into coming closer to him.

''Woah, it's just me, only me,''

Right, only Gwaine. How foolish of him. Dear god, he hated how jumpy he was becoming. It had to have been noticeable. Someone was going to catch onto something being wrong and — and Creon would make him pay.

''Merlin?'' Lancelot prompted gently. Suddenly much closer to him than before, he heard his friend's voice from his left side, and then it was right beside him. The knight rested a hand on his shoulder. He tried his best to just relax.

For his friend's comfort, Merlin quirked his thin lips upward. He cracks an uncharacteristically shy, shaky smile — it’s small, but it's one nonetheless. Lancelot returns it while Gwaine appears as though the knight wants to. It doesn't happen, Merlin watches as Gwaine scrutinizes him, earlier reproachfulness he'd noticed on the others face having not left yet. He thinks he knows enough about why the man's features had contorted in such a way.

''Hey, I apologize Gwaine for my overreaction, it's been — it's been a long day,''

''An apology isn't needed,'' Gwaine's amiable voice rebuked, the knight's mouth closed. Lips parting a second later so to speak only for Lancelot's voice to halt the brunette's oncoming remark.

''What is wanted is an explanation,'' Lancelot tacked on, a sense of inquietude present in Merlin's comrade's voice. ''What's going on with you, my friend? And don't even think about lying, I know you too well,''

''Only the usual affairs I deal with, today Prince Prat has been —''

''Nice try Merlin, I told you I'd know if you were lying though. Arthur isn't why you look like you’re ready to be sick,''

''Yeah — no, it's nothing, I’m fine,'' Merlin quickly lied, plastering on a grin. He felt queasy. ''Alright, you two aren't though. Why're you ogling at me like I've grown another head?''

Lancelot didn't say anything, would Gwaine?

''Gwaine?'' Merlin tried.

''Don't you think it's time we start asking questions of you now, Merlin?''

''No?''

''Even princess has been worried about you, Merlin, and…'' Gwaine paused, sighing. ''And I know I speak for the both of us when I say so are we. You’ve not been yourself, don't say you have. You’ve been quiet, jumpier than usual, you’re constantly wounded it seems — yes, don’t think we don’t catch that, we do. So what is going on, Merlin?''

''I…'' Merlin posture slumped; brows kneading together. A small wave of guilt washed over him.

All this time he'd justified his actions, the sneaking around, hiding injuries, the outright lying. Because he'd thought leaving people in the dark was doing them a favor. He’d thought he had been doing better at hiding it… now, he’d just been making the people he cared about worry.

He had been making Arthur worry.

Trying to rid himself of the unwanted thoughts and series of emotions that came with it, Merlin shook his head. Ebony strands of his hair tickling at his skin as he did so.

''Whatever's going on we need you to tell us, whatever it is you need Merlin, we can help. We can offer you protection,''

''I'm not doubting that,''

''Then you'll let us help you,''

''I would if there was anything to help with,''

''Merlin, don't do this,''

Merlin winces at the unadulterated pain gracing Gwaine's voice, rubbed raw, and rendering the other's voice into a hoarse sound. Seems to Merlin that he can't stop this, try as he might.

He sees it now, sees the way he's hurting those around him, having them all caught in the crossfire of his own issues because he can't pull himself together. And maybe things have always been that way, maybe they hadn't. Merlin doesn't know...

He just can't stop.

The second time Arthur found marks blossoming on his servant's skin, he couldn't take Merlin's responses for an answer anymore. He'd noticed the marking on the other when the dark-haired male had been avoiding looking at him.

Someone had done more than just mark Merlin's wrist this time, they'd dared to have marked up the boy's face. And this time, upon knowing that — Arthur was less happy about the injury than the first time.

''Merlin, look at me,''

Merlin's shoulders rolled forward, thin back curving, spine poking skin as the lithe body hunched protectively.

''Sire, I promise, you don't want to see me. Aren't you always the one going on about how unpleasant my ears and I are — ''

''Merlin, it's not hard to do as I've said. I order you to look at me,''

''Arthur, please —''

"Now!"

And so Merlin does.

Tell him he wasn't seeing clearly, tell him this one wasn't going on another time — finally, Merlin looked at him.

It was, this was going on again. Someone had, and maybe that someone still was hurting Merlin. The darkening shade on Merlin's cheekbone was an indicator of that.

''Not again, look I don't know what the bloody hell you think you're doing hiding this from me. And I don't care, it's time you come clean. We aren't doing this again,''

''Doing what?''

''These marks, I won't see you covering for who's laid them on you, who is it that did this to you?'' He barely recognizes his own voice, quiet and tense. ''Seeing them once was enough but to have this go on again is too far,''

Merlin swallows before adverting from his gaze.

''S' not a big deal,'' Merlin mumbled. ''It was an accident, I got clumsy, fell down the stairs —''

Arthur’s chest clenches so painfully he fears he’s going to have to send for Gaius. Merlin…Merlin doesn’t believe himself to be worth worrying about when he’s hurt? Merlin doesn’t care that he’s getting hurt? Merlin is letting someone hurt him?

No, that won't stand. Won't ever.

''No, don't give me an excuse. As much as I wish you weren't being untruthful, I know you, Merlin. And I know you are,'' Arthur is quick to cut his next excuse off. ''Your nose scrunches when you aren't telling the truth. You know how I feel about those who lie to me,''

Not now, not today. He won’t be letting Merlin get away with lying today.

Not when someone had hurt Merlin, and the selfless idiot was trying to hide it — for what reason, he didn't know.

''I know,'' Merlin replied, sounding meek.

''Then you'll tell me what's been going on with you, so that I can help, won't you?''

''I would if it were that easy,''

''Then make it that easy,''

''Arthur, you really don't need to involve yourself or worry about me. please, let it go,''

The raven-haired man whispered, looking distraught. But the blond shook his head, once again lifting Merlin’s chin up with gentleness.

At least Merlin was back to addressing him properly, none of the Sire that Merlin had been referring to him lately. But the younger was lying to him. And Arthur knew Merlin, he always knew when the man was lying to him.

Ignoring his thoughts for the time being, Arthur leaned closer to better examine Merlin’s face. He was horrified when Merlin took a step back as he did so.

This made Arthur more furious than he could say. Merlin was scared. Merlin had obviously been hurt enough to flinch at any touch, even at Arthur’s. Thinking of anyone laying a hand on Merlin and making him this scared made him want to kill whoever was responsible.

Thus, he tried a different tactic. Communicating wasn't his strongest skill, he always learned more toward actions. Towards touch. But Merlin was all words. It'd be the only way to get through to the other.

''Another thing, you never say please,'' Arthur says.

''Neither do you,''

''You don't say please,'' Arthur restates. ''So I hope you know I’m not letting this go, Merlin,''

Arthur reveals with a soft voice, staring into tear-bright azure eyes.

''You’re overanalyzing this all,'' 

''I'm not, over analyzing would be knowing that you haven't smiled in days. It'd be me knowing that you've been sticking to the sidelines thinking I haven't noticed this. You think you’ve been subtle, but I’ve seen how unhappy you’ve been and I’ve seen the marks — '' He briefly pauses to look at the places where he knows the current and previous bruises are, ''And I'm not letting it go on any longer, this was the last straw. And if you tell me nothing else, Merlin, at least tell me why it'd all begun — ''

The second that —

''Creon,''

— had arrived.

At the name alone, Merlin flinched, and that was all the proof Arthur visibly needed.

''I apologize,''

''Oh, this is new,''

''I just apologized and all you can say is oh? How eloquent of you,''

''What would you want me to say? Should I be scared? Do I need to get Gaius, are you under some form of enchantment? Is that it?'' Merlin joked. ''Because just say the word and I'll get him,''

''What, no Merlin! I feel fine. I'm only apologizing if you misunderstood my behavior the other night. I want you to know there's reason behind why I acted the way I did last night,''

''I'm sure there is, I'm not doubting that. But you mustn't doubt me either. It's all fine, I've got it covered,''

''It's not a matter of doubt. You need to know that this isn't okay, what this qualifies as is abuse Merlin,''

''I know that it's not okay, and no, no, I'm not being abused,''

''Do you? To me it doesn't seem that way,'' Arthur prompted, navigating the conversation elsewhere a second later. ''You know, I'm not one to push or poke my head where I'm not wanted,''

''You're sure you aren't? That's news to me,''

''Hah, aren't you just hilarious today,''

''I sure like to think so,''

''Right, you would. As I was saying, I'm not one to put pressure on matters that I'm not explicitly involved in. However, I couldn't quite help but to notice something odd,''

''Oh, and what might that be, Sire?''

''Your behavior with Creon, it's still something that needs to be addressed. I still need confirmation that it's him harming you,''

''My behavior, what of it?''

''He's turned you into something you aren't, you've grown meek, respectful, reserved in a way that isn't you. I know his methods of doing so couldn't have been kind,'' Arthur divulges, then generously says. ''And for that, I think it's quite time that he leaves this castle, I think it'd do him well to know that he's prohibited from entering Camelot again,''

''You can't prove that it's him who's done anything, Arthur, do try and be reasonable here,''

''I am, I've been very reasonable, although now I'm through with being as such. He's overstayed his welcome,''

''You aren't new to being a prince. You're aware that you can't throw a royal out simply for being obnoxious — if that were the case your royal pratness would've been thrown out ages ago,''

Arthur holds back a flippant comment of sending Merlin to the stocks.

''That's the thing, Merlin, it's as you've said I'm the prince, I can do as I see fit,''

''It’s near midnight, even you must know Arthur, that you can’t just go throwing people into the street at this time of night. And in the scenario that you did, it'd cause more trouble than it'd be worth. It would cause a scandal to have a nobleman thrown from the castle — Arthur, listen to me, people like that behave that way because they believe they can, it’s not important. And giving someone like that a reaction would only be giving into what they want,''

''You don't get to decide that,''

''I wouldn't have to decide anything if you'd just make the right one yourself. Stop being brash for one second and —''

''No, you don't get to decide what is and what isn't of importance. It is important,'' Arthur barked, turning on him and grabbing his face, his grip softening immediately. ''He's targeted you, has struck you on more than one occasion — I can see the mark left by that hideous ring he wears. That is not how we do things here in Camelot,''

''It’s not how you do things, maybe, but this is not the first time a nobleman has spoken with their fist, Arthur. It won't be the last,'' Merlin said quietly, oh so aware of Arthur’s hand still pressed to his face. ''Don't make things worse,''

''Worse? That's nearly impossible to do. What could be worse than this?''

''Yes, worse. If one stops going after me then I can't guarantee they won't go after someone else in my place. That alone could make life more difficult for a lot of the servants. Especially if he feels he’s been undermined and needs to exert his authority over them,''

God-damn Merlin and his manservants lack of self-preservation skills. The man's far too selfless, even now — even beaten beyond what is normal, Merlin is thinking of others' well-being. Merlin's always prioritizing it, always putting it above Merlin's own.

He feels all the emotions Merlin's statement brought him next, granted, Arthur knows he must look like he's going into shock as he processes them all. He goes completely white for a moment but he quickly gains his color back.

Arthur's taking too long to dissect Merlin's words. He comes to the realization now that he needs to speak now before he starts to lose his edge of anger.

''Don't be an idiot, that doesn't mean you've got to be the one to suffer,'' He says slowly, tone measured. ''I won't allow you to hurt anymore. I don't have to ask your permission to protect you, for that is my right and my duty,''

''Arthur —''

''I've said all that is needed, now you may go to your chambers,''

Arthur's glad for the silence of the room. Inside himself, he's alternating between a battle of succumbing to his exhaustion and rage.

Merlin had continued to deny Creon's relevance, not allowing Arthur the rightful privilege of kicking Creon out during the night. So Arthur settled, doing the next best thing.

Rays of sunlight filtered inside, pulling Merlin into the land of consciousness. Aside from the sudden light, Merlin woke up in the usual way, to the sound of Gaius’s mixing potions. The aged man's ladle for the mixtures clattered noisily in the adjourning room. Merlin groaned to himself at the physician's ruckus.

The yawn that came from his mouth wasn't stifled, he turned around on his bed and opened his eyes just to close them tightly immediately. Too bright.

Wait, sun? No, that couldn't be right, the sun was never out this early unless... Merlin deadpanned at a sudden realization.

''Oh no, don't tell me I've overslept, gods no, Arthur's going to kill me,''

He sat up abruptly. Maybe a little too quickly for his body's liking, he groaned and felt around for the big bruise on his lower back. Merlin was very glad that Arthur hadn’t discovered that one; dealing with Creon's rage had been bad enough, he didn't need Arthur's protectiveness added. He could only guess that this bruise had been caused by being thrown into one too many walls.

It wasn't uncommon knowledge that Creon was the biggest ass that stalked around in Camelot, and Merlin couldn’t wait to catch him unaware.
Shaking his head at his introspections, Merlin shrugged the thought off. Now was the time to get dressed and think about an excuse for why he hadn’t shown up with breakfast. Hopefully, it'd be a good enough one to satisfy the Prince.

While he was getting his own boots on, Merlin wondered if he would really need an excuse… Arthur had been very, very lenient with him as of late. Jumping from his bed, Merlin stomped down the few stairs it took to get to Gaius’s room, to which the old man peered at him questioningly.

''You've been awake this whole time?'' Merlin blurted out.

Slowly, Gaius blinked at him. Not comprehending the issue.

''Yes, is that a problem?''

''If you've been up then why didn’t you wake me? It's too late now, I'm a goner. Or I will be soon enough, he's going to have my head on a silver platter when I serve his breakfast three hours late,''

''Actually,'' Gaius turned around to look him over, one eyebrow almost meeting the hairline. ''He'll be doing no such thing because he's allowed you to sleep in,''

''You're telling me that Arthur, as in Prince Arthur let me sleep in? I'm just not buying it, there's got to be an ulterior motive or.. or — oh,''

''It's true,''

''Well, did he seem enchanted by chance? I mentioned it to him earlier but he'd told me he felt fine. I really shouldn't have taken his word in the matter when he's been behaving so strangely,''

''No, he was behaving like himself, Arthur was briefly here at dawn; he told me to let you sleep in. He apparently had private matters that needed attending,''

''Private matters,'' Merlin repeated, suspicion blatantly obvious. ''Gaius, tell me this isn't related to Sir Creon, please tell me you haven’t told Arthur?''

''What exactly would I have told him? Would I have informed him of the way Sir Creon treats those that're of a lower class than he? Or would I have shed light on the way you've been being abused?”

''He's hardly been — he isn’t abusing… Gaius! You didn’t tell him about this, did you?''

''The Prince may have come to me and have inquired about it,'' Gaius huffed. ''He had his fair share of suspicions regarding the man,''

''And you told him what in return? None of this is necessary, I've handled worse men than Creon on my own; I most certainly don’t need Arthur for it,''

''Must you always refuse help when it's offered, my young boy?''

''Please, don't dodge the question anymore, what'd you tell Arthur,''

''The utmost truth, Merlin, and nothing else, I had to. We both know you weren't going to tell him yourself no matter how dire the situation became,''

Merlin broke into a run, he was sprinting out the door before the older man had even finished explaining. By the time he'd arrived, he saw Arthur looking nearly ready to pummel Creon.

That forenoon was a special one, Arthur woke himself for the day especially early, already knowing what today would entail.

It wouldn't be anything good. Well, correction, it would be a great day for him — not for Creon though. The name alone produced rage in his soul, rage that needed to be released. He didn't often have long-winded spouts of anger, but this was an exception. This would be different. Because someone had touched Merlin, that was something he'd never be able to let go.

It's why the very moment Arthur had awoken he wasted no time, his chainmail armor was put on, and then Arthur slipped his gauntlets on one at a time, fastening them. That was the first order of business that needed to be taken care of, then he'd spoken with Gaius. Eventually alerting the other that Merlin wasn't required to perform any duties today.

From then on, one thing was on his mind, his ravenous need for revenge. One that couldn't be clenched. That and the need to invoke justice on Creon. He would, he wasn't wasting any time.

So he didn't, he stalked out of his chambers in pursuit of Creon. A man on a mission Arthur was. Luckily, It wasn't hard finding the nobleman from there, he found Creon in the common area.

Arthur with a smoldering heat in his eyes, fire in his lungs, wasted no time. He spoke at Creon.

''I don't suppose I need to inform you of why I've gone through the troubles of finding you,''

''You could, I'm afraid I'm uncertain of what has provoked such anger out of you. Is there a problem, my prince?''

''As far as I'm concerned, there is, actually,''

''I see, well that does seem rather hapless,'' Creon lamented. ''What's the matter? And I don't suppose you've sought me out for nothing so Is there anything I could assist you with?''

''I'm afraid there's not much you could do considering that my issue happens to involve you. No actually, let me retract that. This issue -  it doesn't just involve you, it's with you,'' Arthur retorts, voice dead and even. None of the usual liveliness was detected in it even for a second. Creon doesn't get to have that. ''Now I want you to listen to me as thoroughly as your ears will allow, I consider myself fairly easy to please, I'm one that has few rules. Although those rules are easy to oblige in my eyes. Would you yourself say that they've been difficult to follow?''

''No, of course not,''

''Then how is it that within your time here you've broken one of the most important rules? I’ve always expected foreign nobles to treat the members of this kingdom with respect,''

''And I've done so,''

''You have?''

''Yes, I have, I won't stand to hear you say otherwise,'' Creon hissed back. ''So excuse me for not understanding where these accusations have sprouted from, I've done nothing to disobey them,''

''So pray tell then, Lord Creon, if you are blameless - if you've done nothing wrong as you've said. Then why've you deemed yourself above that law? Explain yourself and your reasoning on why you saw it fit for you to raise a hand against my personal manservant?''

''Hah, the true meaning of this has shown itself, hasn't it? I should've known,''

''Yeah, you should've, it's quite unfit for royal descent to go out of their way to harm servants,''

''This isn't about just a common servant for you though, is it? You never spoke out on this up until something happened to your personal manservant. Speaking of the simpleton, I see he went and ran his loud mouth to you when he'd explicitly been told not to. How predictable, can't even defend himself, much less can the boy fight his own battles,''

''Shut up,''

''Don't speak to me that way, I require respect and I won't bargain for it. It's expected,''

''Conversating is doing nothing to help you. And I don't take lightly to what you've done, so I believe you owe me a match, I'll pose the stakes. If I win, you'll leave Camelot,''

''For Merlin, really?'' Creon spat. ''All this over an unruly serving boy? You'd dare taint your father's honor for that of a peasant?''

''I would,''

''How do you sleep at night while knowing that you have battered the Pendragon name all to defend someone such as that - that boy?''

''He's earned my protection whereas you have not even earned an ounce of my respect. I know you like to think that you're in your own kingdom. And that you can parade around mistreating and 'disciplining' who you please. You'll have a rude awakening, Creon, finding that that isn't the case. I've told you, we do things differently here in Camelot, I really should have been more specific for those who're unjust such as you. So let me fix that by being more clear. Here, we don't beat on those who help us. Much less over simple mistakes, we don't discuss flogging servants as punishment, I'm not my father,''

''Oh, that's been made painstakingly clear. There'd be no mistaking you two for one another when you separate yourself from your father quite enough. Your father isn't a pushover as you are, he'd never tolerate such disrespect from his subjects the way you do, you'll never make half the king he is,''

''And that may be. My father and I are very different, we have two very different visions of how Camelot should be run. But here in Camelot, one thing always applies and that is, that you don't touch what's mine,'' Arthur raged possessively. ''Don't you touch him or any of my other servants again,''

''My, Arthur Pendragon, you've gone soft,''

''Once I win against you, you will be leaving Camelot, this Kingdom is not one for you, Creon
— and don't you return here lest you're prepared to face consequences for doing so,''

''Guess we'll just have to test those words, now won't we?''

''Seems we will, tomorrow night, at dusk. Meet me here. If you choose not to then you automatically forfeit our negotiated terms. And will be banished,''

Pride rendered useless in this situation, Creon merely nodded at Arthur. Before going to leave the room. At the last second of Creon's presence, the door had burst open. Merlin blinked owlishly at the scene, before a knowing smirk settled.

''Not a word,''

''Not one?''

''Not one,'' Arthur amended. ''And will you stop looking so smug, I didn't do this for you,''

''Oh, of course not,'' Merlin agreed mildly. ''You wouldn't do such a thing,''

''No, really, I didn't,''

''And I wholeheartedly believe you. I believe that you didn't do this to conserve my dignity. And you most definitely just happened to challenge him to a duel after you'd found out he'd hit me. Obviously, it's all a total coincidence on your part,''

''Exactly,''

After the duel, Merlin follows the prince as Arthur took off, it's not a surprise that Arthur took the liberty of going ahead of Merlin. The blonde didn't exactly seem happy with the manservant. Immediately, Arthur was darting toward the prince's chambers. Merlin in tow, once inside — Merlin stood there mutely as Arthur tore off the gauntlets the prince had been previously wearing, flinging them onto the bed a second later.

The mess made from the armor being strewn around could be worried about later. Merlin was more focused on the possible injuries Arthur might have.

''Are you hurt at all, are there any aches or pains you feel I could get Gaius for?'' No response, Merlin sighed. ''Fine, no need to acknowledge my obvious concern. After all, it's just Merlin,''

Still nothing. Louder this time, Merlin spoke. Striving to get an answer.

''Well then, when you decide responding to me is worth an ounce of your time, Iet me know if you need anything. In the meantime I uh, I'll take these and clean them up for you, if that's what you want,''

No response followed, just Arthur's angered breathing. It felt tense around them. And to say the least, Merlin was getting rather tired of being ignored.

''Or not, that's fine too,'' Merlin muttered, abandoning the gauntlets in favor of pestering Arthur into speaking. ''The silent treatment is what we're resorting to, huh, you royal prat? That's awfully mature of you, real princely,''

Damn this.

''Talk to me, clotpole, I know you know how to speak up,'' Merlin said In jest. ''With how I always hear you drone on senselessly,''

Not even a half smile from Arthur shun at him.
Merlin sighed, eyes burning in frustration. Had Merlin actually screwed up this badly? It was reasonable that Arthur would be unhappy at finding out of this all. Merlin hadn't known it'd be like this though.

''Hey, dollophead, talk. You know you want to say something. You can yell if that's what you want, goad at me even, I don't care, just do something,''

The stinging sensation in Merlin's tear ducts worsened.

''I'm sorry, prat, okay? Just — just come on, don't do this,'' Nothing, Merlin's voice caught in his throat. ''Arthur, please,''

The desperation was rewarded with nothing other than a muscle tensing in Arthur's jaw.

''I've upset you somehow, I know you wouldn't challenge Creon over someone like me,'' Merlin's voice wobbled, enough that Merlin granted himself a steadying breath. ''And I didn't stay out of his way like you told me, is that why you're mad? It is, isn't it? Which means you really didn't do this for me then...did you?''

Finally, Arthur spoke. There was no avoiding this any longer it seemed, they were bound to have this conversation one way or another.

''Don't question that, regardless of what I may have said, you know I did it for you, I wasn't going to let him just keep on whaling on you. I just don't understand what I've done wrong, you won't even grant me that,''

It was Merlin's turn to be silent now, Arthur's reply had left him speechless at first. And then,

''You — what? Arthur, it's because you've done nothing wrong. There's nothing for me to tell,''

''No, clearly I have done something. Was there — had I ever given you a reason for you to feel as though you couldn't come to me with this? Did I ever make you feel unsafe? Make you feel unable to confide in me when someone's actively hurting you?''

''No, no, I — that's on me, not you,''

''Then why, Merls, why wouldn't you tell me about this? Why is it that you'd prefer being hurt over coming to me?''

''I didn't,'' Merlin pushed past a lodge in his throat. ''I didn't know that was an option,''

Arthur's lungs burn at that.

Something in the prince's chest squeezes so tight it breaks. He keeps his hands away from Merlin like he’s been stung, backing up until he hits the headboard of his bed. His mouth is open in shock and he can scarcely draw breath.

''God-damn you, Merlin, you thickheaded fool, It's always an option!'' Arthur bellows, ''Ever since I've met you, ever since you were entrusted to me, it's been an option. You telling me when you are in danger is something that's always been on the table, something I'll always condone and want out of you. I want you safe, that's all,''

Afterward, Arthur's chest heaves at the confession, he pauses, emotionally spent in a way he's never been before. And Merlin blinks, pounding heart currently split between fixating on the inner workings of Arthur's sudden pause, taking it for hesitation. However, that doubt, that insecurity that's been ingrained in him lately, doesn't last long before Merlin is brushing off the moment of hesitance. Processing Arthur's undoubtedly earnest words instead.

''I didn’t mean for what I said to come out like that, it’s just… I thought I could handle it. That it was normal. The way Lord Creon treated me was how the older boys in Ealdor treated me. I got used to it. And it always made sense,''

Arthur shakes his head furiously.

''It doesn’t make sense, Merlin. He's been hurting you. People have hurt you. That’s anything but alright, that’s awful. And I’m going to stop it,''

''You can’t just fight all the nobles who don’t like me,''

''Oh, just watch me,''

''Be so sincere in this, you know your father will —''

''To hell with that,'' Arthur snarls, ''To hell with anything, that nobleman was no noble. He had been hurting you. And you condemned yourself to dealing with it in silence, in pain. And I won’t stand for it,''

''Careful Arthur, it'd almost seem like you cared about me. Honestly, If I’d known that all it would take for you to show it is me getting a slap from that idiot, I’d have annoyed Lord Creon days ago,''

Arthur visibly went still but his hand reached out and traced the bruise that'd formed across Merlin’s cheekbone some time ago. 

''Yeah, well don't go making annoying Noble's a habit, even if it is your specialty,''

''Wait, you.. — you didn't deny it,''

''Was I meant to, Merlin?''

''No, guess not,'' Merlin says cheekily,

And that smile, that god-damned smile. It doesn't fix everything, doesn't remedy the horrors his manservant had endured. What it does do though is ease something in his chest.

The smile he sends back to Merlin is genuine and unforced. He's sure of something that If needed, Arthur knew that he would do it again; night or day, rain or shine. He would protect and defend Merlin whenever need be. No matter who it was that he was defending his manservant from, didn't matter. He would always be there for Merlin, his sunshine.