[Fic-Merlin] Correctives
Correctives
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairing: Arthur, Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: Hurt/comfort.
Summary: Being sent to the dungeons wasn't the only punishment Arthur received for getting the flower to save Merlin.
Words: 5000
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"Put me in the stocks for a week,
a month even, I don't care.
Just make sure it gets to him.
I'm begging you."
His father wouldn't put him in the stocks. That was a too ignominious punishment for a prince to bear but it didn't mean there weren't other more acceptable correctives. His time in the dungeons was proof enough.
At least the idiot had gotten the antidote and castle gossip had managed to reach him, even in the dungeons, to tell him that Merlin was doing fine.
Unfortunately, if castle gossip had reached him, it had without a doubt reached his father and Arthur knew better than to hope Uther would pretend his son hadn't challenged him yet again by managing to get the flower to his servant. There would be consequences. His punishment for leaving in the quest without his father's consent wasn't only his stay in the dungeons. No, more than that Merlin's death was supposed to teach him to obey the king's mandates and to understand that his actions always carried consequences to himself and to others. But Merlin had lived and though Uther had no problem letting a servant die, he wouldn't execute him just to teach Arthur a lesson.
That was why when three guards came into his cell on the early morning of his third day in the dungeons he wasn't surprised. Arthur stood up and regarded the men expectantly.
"Prince Arthur Pendragon," spoke one of them. He was an older knight named Aelfstand, one of his father's personal guard. "By order of the king you've been sentenced to receive eight lashes on the whip to be administered on the bare back."
It hit Arthur like a bucket of cold water. He should have expected it, really, but somehow he had thought the number wouldn't be as high. He had been flogged twice before. Once at sixteen for back talking to his father, questioning one of his commands in public. It had been four lashes then. The second time was just a week before his eighteenth birthday. A young girl, barely thirteen had been found a sorceress. Of all the people he had seen executed, the girl had undoubtedly been the hardest. He had actually yelled for the execution to be stopped and six of his father's guards had to hold him so he wouldn't rush to save the girl himself. His father had sent him to the dungeons and ordered for six lashes to be administered.
Next time, Arthur thought wit a small humorless curve of the lips, he would get ten.
Two of the guards advanced towards him and Aelfstand stayed behind. Arthur gave them a curt nod and took off his shirt. He faced the wall and allowed them to manacle his arms above his head to the beam on the ceiling. Keeping his head held high he clenched his hands into fists and steadied himself.
"It brings me no pleasure to do this to you, Arthur."
He hadn't heard his father come in. His muscles stiffened involuntarily but he remained quiet. His father wouldn't be expecting a reply either.
"I am king," Uther continued, "a burden you will know soon enough. Some things can't be ignored. Consequences must be paid. One lash for every day of the week you promised you would spend on the stocks."
"I understand," Arthur said, glad that his voice sounded detached and collected.
"Begin," Uther ordered and Arthur took one deep breath before he heard the crack of the whip.
His legs almost gave in on the first blow and only the manacles around his wrists kept him from stumbling. Lips pressed, Arthur stood up straight and refused to let his knees bend again.
Aelfstand, for it was surely him holding the whip, was quick. He laid the blows down Arthur's back in quick succession, something Arthur would never voice he was grateful for. He gritted his teeth and against his best efforts grunts of pain escaped his lips now and then. He was no stranger to pain, he had been stabbed, cut, beaten and burnt before, but each lash hit deeper than his flesh. It was humiliating to be tied down and punished in such a manner and though the whip hurt, oh did it hurt, the knowledge that his father was watching him, that he still didn't measure up, was much worse.
Arthur was panting by the time it ended. A drop of sweat was sliding down the side of his face and his eyes had shut at some point, he didn't even remember when. Someone was speaking and it took a moment for Arthur to grasp the words being said.
"Give me the whip, Aelfstand."
Arthur blinked and forced himself to listen.
"I'll deliver one last stroke, Arthur, so you'll remember who is your king and who do you serve."
The silence was thick and it took Arthur a moment to realize that his father was waiting for an answer. He swallowed and felt the copper taste of blood in his mouth. "Yes, Sire." The reply sounded raspy, as if Arthur had been screaming, but it was still steady and firm.
The whip cracked a ninth time.
It was somehow worse than the ones before and Arthur wasn't sure if the deeper agony was because his father hadn't held back and stripped his flesh to the bone or if just the knowledge that it was his father administering the punishment had made it almost unbearable. He managed to remain quiet, though, and by the time the guards had unfastened his wrists Arthur knew, without having to turn around, that his father had left.
He remained standing, barely, facing the wall, arms hanging at his side until he heard the cell door being locked and the steps of the guards fade away. Then he fell forward on the straw covered floor and closed his eyes.
* * *
When he woke up hours later he was shivering. His shirt lay crumpled on the corner of the cell and Arthur couldn't decide what would be worst, freezing or moving. In the end, he was shivering so much that he gathered all the strength he had left and crawled the few feet that separated him from his garment.
He winced as he felt his wounds reopening and his back was on fire. He was bleeding again. He knew it even before he saw the drops of fresh blood fall on the straw as he moved.
Some lashes had grazed his shoulders and upper arms and a couple had curled around his abdomen, the tip cutting the side of his stomach. His back was bad, he knew that without having to look, and somehow he suspected these blows wouldn't just leave the thin white scars that his previous punishments had. Arthur suspected this was the first proper flogging he had taken and the guards administering the previous ones had held back.
With a muttered curse Arthur put on his shirt and fell back facedown on the floor. This wasn't such a good idea, he knew, but the cold didn't let him think, didn't let him sleep and right now all he wanted was a few hours of unconsciousness. He would deal with the pain later.
* * *
When he next woke he felt a bit better. His back was still on fire; he had tried to roll in his sleep a couple of times, which ended with him being woken by the sharp pain of reopened wounds.
He remained where he was for a few minutes, staring at the dirty floor of his cell before taking a deep breath and steadying himself. His first attempt to sit up ended up with him panting, facedown on the floor, eyes shut in pain. He succeeded in the second one but he had bitten his lip again to keep himself from crying out loud.
Arthur allowed himself a few moments to rest before taking the little water he had left from his meal the day before and drinking it. It wasn't much but it made him feel much stronger.
He would need to take off his shirt again. It was bad enough that he had put it on with his open wounds. He could feel the material of the shirt sticking to the whip marks and he would surely reopen those by removing his shirt. Still, the damage was done and all he could do now was try to fix it.
One. Two.
"Fuck!" It came out as a long painful hiss that ended in a grunt. His wounds had reopened, of course, and the shirt was covered in dried and fresh blood. With a last effort he threw the shirt far away before laying down on his stomach again. He wouldn't be making that mistake again. The cold just had to be better.
* * *
He had almost fallen asleep again when he heard steps coming his way. He opened his eyes but made no move to sit up. He didn't think he would be able to even if he tried.
It was Gaius.
A guard was with him, one that hadn't witnessed his punishment, and he let out a gasp when he caught sight of Arthur.
"By the heavens!" Gaius exclaimed, rushing into the cell and to Arthur's side as soon as the door was opened. "I need fresh water and clean cloths," Gaius ordered the guard who hurried to get the required items.
The doctor kneeled down beside Arthur and put a hand to his forehead. "You're running a low fever. Not surprising with your wounds. What was Uther thinking only calling me this morning?"
"It's not that bad," Arthur said without conviction.
Gaius ignored him in favor of looking at his back. He frowned. "The wounds are bleeding still."
Arthur thought it better not to tell him about reopening them. Thankfully, the guard came back with a basin of water and clean cloths saving Arthur from answering Gaius' perceptive questions.
For the next minutes Gaius worked in silence, cleaning Arthur's wounds carefully and applying some sort of salve that stung so much that it had taken all of Arthur's will power not to jerk away.
"You are lucky your wounds weren't infected, Sire," Gaius said as he wrapped bandages around Arthur's torso. A maid had come minutes earlier and left a plate of food by Arthur's side. Gaius had helped him sit up and Arthur was munching on a piece of bread while Gaius worked. "It's very careless leaving open wounds untreated, especially in a place like this."
Arthur remained quiet. He didn't want to try to follow his father's reasoning for that. He didn't want to think about his father at all.
"After you are done eating, drink this." Gaius produced a vial from his pack and placed it on the floor. "It'll help with the pain. Try not to move too much or you'll reopen the wounds."
Arthur took the vial and nodded.
Gaius stood up slowly. "I'll be back tomorrow to change the bandages. If it hurts too much or you feel feverish send word with one of the guards immediately."
Arthur nodded but they both knew he wouldn't. He wasn't one to admit weakness.
The guard came back to unlock the door and Gaius moved to leave. He stopped by the door and looked back at Arthur. "What you did… Thank you, my boy," he said suddenly and bowed slightly to him.
"He's recovering, right?" Arthur asked, hesitantly.
"Yes, Sire. He should be completely recovered in a few days," the doctor assured him.
Arthur gave him a nod and Gaius left without another word.
* * *
The potions helped and when Gaius came back the next day to change the bandages Arthur was feeling more like himself. The wounds were cleaned again, the dreadful salve made another appearance and Gaius announced that his back was healing as well as could be expected.
"Merlin is feeling stronger now," Gaius said as he bandaged Arthur's torso. "He knows what you did for him."
Arthur could feel himself pale. "What?"
"The quest to get the flower, Sire. He was ready to go back to his duties this morning before I informed him that it wouldn't be necessary as you are to stay here a few days more."
"And what use would he be sick and weak? Sometimes I wonder if he has any common sense at all."
Gaius smiled. "He's not happy about you being here but he's glad for the extra days of rest."
"Did you tell him you were coming to see me?" Arthur asked, eyes narrowed.
"Everyone knows about you being arrested but the king hasn't made the rest of your, um, punishment, public."
Arthur let out a relieved breath. "Merlin?"
"Doesn't know about it, Sire."
"Good. Keep it that way," Arthur said and then added in an aloof tone, "the idiot is worse than a mother hen I don't need him to hover."
"Of course, Sire," Gaius replied dutifully but the tone suggested he saw right through the prince's act. "Gwen was let out yesterday. The Lady Morgana sends her regards."
Arthur frowned. "What? Guinevere was in the dungeons?"
"The guards recognized Gwen as the one who came here unauthorized the other day. The king sent her to the dungeons for a day."
"Is she alright?" Arthur asked, concerned.
"She's perfectly well," Gaius assured him. "She just spent a night on the cell and she's gone back to her duties now. She spends a lot of time sitting with Merlin."
"Oh." Well at least someone was there since he couldn't be.
"I'll be back tomorrow, Sire."
"Right," Arthur said and made the mistake of leaning back on the wall. He winced and sat up straight again. He would have to remember not to do that again. Gaius thankfully didn't seem to hear him and left. The physician wouldn't have been happy if he noticed Arthur messed up his work.
Now that he was feeling better and the burning in his back had gone down to almost tolerable levels Arthur was getting bored. His father knew very well just how much Arthur hated inactivity, which was why nights on the dungeon were his preferred punishment for his son. In a way the whipping had been a distraction and now Arthur was feeling cupped up and irritated again.
He stood up slowly and took careful steps across the cell. Moving hurt but it felt good to be doing something other than laying or sitting uncomfortably on the floor. Usually, when thrown in the dungeons, Arthur did his best to train in the confined space but now he also had to deal with the fact that any strong movement would reopen his wounds and he didn't want to think about the lecture and stern looks he would get from Gaius if he managed to do that.
He was careful and by the time the maid came with the evening meal Arthur was moving almost normally. He sat down, ate silently and then lay down to sleep.
* * *
When his week on the dungeons ended, Arthur's wounds were healing and he could walk and move with little or no pain. He still couldn't lie on his back but he figured he would have to wait until the wounds closed completely before attempting that.
After the guards let him out he hurried to his chambers. His father hadn't sent a change of clothes and he had been wearing the bloodstained shirt the last few days. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. The shirt was red and the dark color covered the dried blood but anyone who gave him a careful look would notice.
A few servants saw him on the way but they knew better than to stare and hurried with their duties as if the prince hadn't walked by them dirty and tired looking. Once in his chambers Arthur stripped from his clothes, ready to take a bath before he remembered Merlin was still recovering and there was no one to draw the bath for him.
He put on a robe, opened his door, stopped the first servant he saw and ordered him to get the bath ready. The boy was back a few minutes later with buckets of water and the bath was ready in mere moment.
"Should I help you, Sire?" the boy asked, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
Arthur gave him an irritated look and sent him off. He removed his bandages and stepped into the tub of warm water. His wounds stung at the contact with the water but after a moment his back muscles relaxed and he let out a content sigh.
Merlin's baths were always too cold or too warm and it took him twice the time to get them ready. He was really quite useless sometimes.
Closing his eyes Arthur enjoyed the quiet. It was never quiet with Merlin there, always rambling about one thing or another or complaining about the chores or how Arthur should stop acting like an annoying prat and do something for himself every now and then.
Yeah, it was too quiet now.
He finished his bath quick and was in the middle of redoing the bandages when he heard a knock on the door.
"Go away!" Arthur said, irritated.
"Sire?" someone asked from the other side of the door. "The king is requesting your presence. The Mercia delegation is leaving."
Oh joy.
"I'll be there in a moment," he said and finished with his bandages quickly.
When he walked into the throne room a few minutes later he found his father standing stiffly before Bayard and the rest of the Mercia delegation. All eyes fell on him and Arthur walked straight, head held high, to his father's side.
The king spoke, "We bid you farewell, King Bayard and hope that the misunderstandings of this visit won't blemish the good relations between our peoples."
Bayards eyes narrowed. "I see now that Camelot is quick to send royalty to the dungeons." He turned his eyes to Arthur. "But Amends have been made and we part in peace."
Uther stiffened but he nodded with a polite smile and extended his hand to Bayard. "Safe journey."
Bayard clasped Uther's hand. "Farewell."
* * *
The talk by the walls as they watched the Mercia delegation leave was his father's equivalent of an apology. When Uther put his hand on Arthur's shoulder he pressed unknowingly on one of the lash marks, making the pride Arthur felt at the slight recognition in his father's words to be tinted with the hurt and anger of what had happened a few days before.
Uther didn't ask about his back. Arthur didn't acknowledge any wound.
The short talk left him feeling drained and confused, thoughts and feelings jumbled, so with a decisive step he went to do what he should have done the moment he was let out. He went to see Merlin.
The idiot looked horrible. His skin was pale and clammy and he could barely get the strength to backtalk to Arthur. Still, Arthur made sure Merlin knew he was expected back at work and Arthur tried to tell himself it was because his boots needed polishing and his armor shining and not because he was tired of being alone with his thoughts and he wanted Merlin's incompetence and irreverence back.
There were a mountain of papers for him to revise when he got back to him room. The week in the dungeons hadn't spared him from his duties and he had a lot of catching up to do. In a way he was thankful because the crops' status and water shortage up north took precedence to the knights training so he felt entitled to spend the day in his chambers reviewing that instead of out in the training field. One more day to rest should be enough.
A servant girl came in the evening with a tray of food for him. He thanked her and ate while reading, thankful that his father hadn't summoned him for supper. It was late when he finally finished and he collapsed in bed, grateful for the soft and warm mattress.
* * *
"You do know it's light out already?"
Arthur's eyes opened instantly. He shifted, covers slipping past his waist, and found Merlin standing by the foot of the bed, giving him an amused look. "Wha?"
"Cheerful as always in the morning, I see," Merlin said and then opened the blinds on the windows. The bright light of day hit Arthur's face making him too aware that he had overslept.
"Why didn't you wake me!?" Arthur demanded as he threw the covers and stood up. The wounds on his back protested the quick movement but Arthur ignored them and went to the basin on the table to wash his face. "I should be training with the knights by now."
"For what I see they are doing a good enough job without you," Merlin commented looking out the window.
"Of course they're doing well." Arthur rolled his eyes. "I trained them. It doesn't mean I can slack off on my duties." He gave Merlin a careful look and then added, "Like some incompetent servants like to do."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Should I help you dress then, Sire?"
And just for the irreverent inflection in Merlin's voice Arthur was tempted to make him do just that but he shook his head. "Fetch my breakfast," he said instead.
Merlin turned his head to the table and Arthur noticed for the fist time the plate waiting for him. "Well, maybe you are not as incompetent as I thought." He sat down and ate his meal quickly. When he finished he gestured to the plates and ordered Merlin to get them back to the kitchen.
"Shouldn't I help you dress first?" Merlin asked.
"I'm quite capable of doing that myself." Arthur glared. "I'm a prince, I think I can handle pulling up my breeches."
Merlin silently gathered the plates but Arthur heard a mutter of 'prat' as his servant closed the door. Arthur smiled, shook his head amused and then changed quickly. He contemplated putting on his armor but he would need Merlin's help with that and it wasn't absolutely necessary for a training session.
The knights stopped training when he approached and stood respectfully, waiting for him to address them. Arthur nodded at them and told them to carry on while Sir Leon updated him on what had been done in his absence.
Two new hopefuls had arrived for training. Sir Leon had them mucking the stables for five days already but he was waiting until Arthur's return to move them to basic training. The younger of them, Lord Rydell had humbly assumed the task but the older, Lord Wessex, was acting most arrogant according to Sir Leon.
"Aright," Arthur said. "Go to Rydell and I'll find Wessex, let's see if they're ready to move up to basic training."
Arthur found Wessex leaning back on the wall of the stables, the broom ignored at the floor by his feet.
"I see you have little desire to become a knight," Arthur said, stepping up to the man. "Maybe you need more time at the stables."
The man glared at him. "I'm of noble blood, this is no job for me… Sire." The honorific was added as an afterthought.
"You think you're too good for this? Then you don't have what it takes to become a knight." Arthur bent down and picked up the handle of a broken pitchfork, laying nearby. He twirled it once in his hand.
"I have what it takes," the man replied angrily. He was older than Arthur and bigger and it was clear that being talked down like that by someone younger hurt his pride.
"Let's see it then, draw your sword."
And that was the first test. An honorable man would have declined and taken a weapon similar to the one Arthur was brandishing but Wessex had no such qualms.
Wessex struck first. It was a wide swipe that Arthur sidestepped easily. The man raised the sword again and tried a stabbing move. Arthur moved around him and brought the stick hard on Wessex's back. With a groan, Wessex collapsed to the ground.
"I think a few more days in the stables will suit you well." Arthur said and started to walk away.
He heard Wessex get up, heard the tip of the sword drag on the ground as the man rushed at him. Arthur turned turn around and raised the stick just in time to par the sword. The wood splintered and Wessex smiled as he brought his sword down, aiming for Arthur's side.
Arthur elbowed the man on the neck and pushed him back. Wessex stumbled but charged once more. Before he could swing his sword Arthur grabbed Wessex's arm, twisted it behind his back and pulled until Wessex's fingers gave and his sword fell down.
Using his foot Arthur flipped his sword up and caught it in his free hand. He rested the blade on the back of Wessex's neck. "Another week in the stables," he said. "And if you charge at an unarmed man again while wielding a sword you'll be out. Is that understood?"
A moment passed until Wessex said, "Yes, Sire."
Arthur let him go. "I'll send someone to watch over your work. We don't want you slacking," he said and turned to go.
He picked up Wessex's muttered curse but let it slide. He was no good. Arthur could see that now but having him muck up the stables would do no harm. Especially since he didn't want Merlin doing any heavy chores yet.
Rydell had faired much better since he was on the training grounds when Arthur returned. Arthur picked up a sword from the rack and approached the new trainee.
"Alright, Let's see what you got."
* * *
A warm bath was waiting for Arthur when he came back. His muscles ached after the days of inactivity. He was so glad to see the tub that he undressed immediately, made a quick work of the banages and stepped into the warm water.
"What the hell happened to you!?"
Right. Merlin.
His servant was standing by the table, open mouthed, looking straight at him.
"I would like some privacy, Merlin," Arthur said, tiredly.
"That's not an answer," Merlin said, walking closer, eyes fixed on Arthur's shoulders and upper arms. "What happened to you?"
Arthur sighed. "I don't know what you mean, Merlin, and if I did, it would be none of your business."
"Let me see your back," Merlin demanded, crossing his arms in front of him.
"Have you forgotten I am the prince and you are the servant?" Arthur asked, remaining stubbornly on the tub.
"Like you would ever let me forget that," Merlin muttered and then walked around. Arthur tried to slip more into the tub but he knew his upper back was still visible.
"Those are lash marks." Merlin sounded distressed. "Arthur, what happened?"
Arthur could feel the beginnings of a headache. "It's alright, Merlin. It's nothing."
"It isn't nothing!" Merlin was almost yelling now. "You have lash marks on your back. You are the prince, who would flog the prince…" A look of sudden understanding appeared on Merlin's face, which was quickly replaced by anger and then something Arthur couldn't quite place. "Your father… He had no right!"
"I'm his subject just like everyone else. He has every right." Arthur was suddenly tired of the bath and the discussion. "Hand me a towel," he ordered as he stood up.
Merlin almost dropped the towel when he got a full look at Arthur's back. "You are bleeding," he whispered.
"Perfect," Arthur muttered. He put the towel around his waist and went to the cupboard to get fresh bandages but then Merlin took them carefully from his hands.
"Allow me," he said.
Merlin guided him to a chair, kneeled down and then worked quietly, wrapping the bandages carefully around the prince's torso. "Was this…" Merlin said, breaking the silence. "Was this because of me?"
Arthur hated the guilt in Merlin's voice. "No," he said, quickly. "It's really nothing, Merlin."
"You are lying." Merlin finished and looked up at Arthur. "I'm sorry."
Arthur frowned. "What in haven's name are you apologizing for? Saving my life?"
"No." Merlin bowed his head. "Getting you hurt."
"You didn't do anything other than lying delirious for days and I certainly don't remember you wielding the whip." Arthur stood up and put on a shirt.
"But you went for the flower even though your father had forbidden it." Merlin stood up but his head remained bowed. "Gaius said you had been arrested but I never thought the king would…"
Arthur had enough of this. He walked up to Merlin and pulled up his chin. "Look at me, Merlin." Merlin raised his eyes. "I said it's nothing. I wasn't about to let you die and I don't regret it."
"Arthur?"
"Do you understand?" Arthur asked, still holding Merlin's chin.
"Yes." Merlin's eyes were wide and his lower lip was trembling. "I… thank you."
Arthur swallowed. "There's nothing to thank."
"But there is," Merlin said softly. "You did that and got punished… for me." He leaned forward.
Arthur held his breath. "It's nothi-"
Merlin put two fingers over Arthur's lips. "It's something," he said, removed the fingers and kissed Arthur softly on the lips. "Thank you."
Merlin took a step back, waited a second and then turned to leave. In a swift move Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand and pulled him back.
"You call that a proper thanks?" he asked, smirking.
Merlin was stunned for a moment and the rolled his eyes. "Demanding sod," he muttered.
Arthur's smirk widened. "Care to try again?" This time he didn't leave Merlin room to reply and just pulled him the last couple of inches until their lips met again.
And if Arthur had his way, which he usually did, Merlin will be trying again and again and again.
- The End -
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairing: Arthur, Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: Hurt/comfort.
Summary: Being sent to the dungeons wasn't the only punishment Arthur received for getting the flower to save Merlin.
Words: 5000
---
"Put me in the stocks for a week,
a month even, I don't care.
Just make sure it gets to him.
I'm begging you."
His father wouldn't put him in the stocks. That was a too ignominious punishment for a prince to bear but it didn't mean there weren't other more acceptable correctives. His time in the dungeons was proof enough.
At least the idiot had gotten the antidote and castle gossip had managed to reach him, even in the dungeons, to tell him that Merlin was doing fine.
Unfortunately, if castle gossip had reached him, it had without a doubt reached his father and Arthur knew better than to hope Uther would pretend his son hadn't challenged him yet again by managing to get the flower to his servant. There would be consequences. His punishment for leaving in the quest without his father's consent wasn't only his stay in the dungeons. No, more than that Merlin's death was supposed to teach him to obey the king's mandates and to understand that his actions always carried consequences to himself and to others. But Merlin had lived and though Uther had no problem letting a servant die, he wouldn't execute him just to teach Arthur a lesson.
That was why when three guards came into his cell on the early morning of his third day in the dungeons he wasn't surprised. Arthur stood up and regarded the men expectantly.
"Prince Arthur Pendragon," spoke one of them. He was an older knight named Aelfstand, one of his father's personal guard. "By order of the king you've been sentenced to receive eight lashes on the whip to be administered on the bare back."
It hit Arthur like a bucket of cold water. He should have expected it, really, but somehow he had thought the number wouldn't be as high. He had been flogged twice before. Once at sixteen for back talking to his father, questioning one of his commands in public. It had been four lashes then. The second time was just a week before his eighteenth birthday. A young girl, barely thirteen had been found a sorceress. Of all the people he had seen executed, the girl had undoubtedly been the hardest. He had actually yelled for the execution to be stopped and six of his father's guards had to hold him so he wouldn't rush to save the girl himself. His father had sent him to the dungeons and ordered for six lashes to be administered.
Next time, Arthur thought wit a small humorless curve of the lips, he would get ten.
Two of the guards advanced towards him and Aelfstand stayed behind. Arthur gave them a curt nod and took off his shirt. He faced the wall and allowed them to manacle his arms above his head to the beam on the ceiling. Keeping his head held high he clenched his hands into fists and steadied himself.
"It brings me no pleasure to do this to you, Arthur."
He hadn't heard his father come in. His muscles stiffened involuntarily but he remained quiet. His father wouldn't be expecting a reply either.
"I am king," Uther continued, "a burden you will know soon enough. Some things can't be ignored. Consequences must be paid. One lash for every day of the week you promised you would spend on the stocks."
"I understand," Arthur said, glad that his voice sounded detached and collected.
"Begin," Uther ordered and Arthur took one deep breath before he heard the crack of the whip.
His legs almost gave in on the first blow and only the manacles around his wrists kept him from stumbling. Lips pressed, Arthur stood up straight and refused to let his knees bend again.
Aelfstand, for it was surely him holding the whip, was quick. He laid the blows down Arthur's back in quick succession, something Arthur would never voice he was grateful for. He gritted his teeth and against his best efforts grunts of pain escaped his lips now and then. He was no stranger to pain, he had been stabbed, cut, beaten and burnt before, but each lash hit deeper than his flesh. It was humiliating to be tied down and punished in such a manner and though the whip hurt, oh did it hurt, the knowledge that his father was watching him, that he still didn't measure up, was much worse.
Arthur was panting by the time it ended. A drop of sweat was sliding down the side of his face and his eyes had shut at some point, he didn't even remember when. Someone was speaking and it took a moment for Arthur to grasp the words being said.
"Give me the whip, Aelfstand."
Arthur blinked and forced himself to listen.
"I'll deliver one last stroke, Arthur, so you'll remember who is your king and who do you serve."
The silence was thick and it took Arthur a moment to realize that his father was waiting for an answer. He swallowed and felt the copper taste of blood in his mouth. "Yes, Sire." The reply sounded raspy, as if Arthur had been screaming, but it was still steady and firm.
The whip cracked a ninth time.
It was somehow worse than the ones before and Arthur wasn't sure if the deeper agony was because his father hadn't held back and stripped his flesh to the bone or if just the knowledge that it was his father administering the punishment had made it almost unbearable. He managed to remain quiet, though, and by the time the guards had unfastened his wrists Arthur knew, without having to turn around, that his father had left.
He remained standing, barely, facing the wall, arms hanging at his side until he heard the cell door being locked and the steps of the guards fade away. Then he fell forward on the straw covered floor and closed his eyes.
* * *
When he woke up hours later he was shivering. His shirt lay crumpled on the corner of the cell and Arthur couldn't decide what would be worst, freezing or moving. In the end, he was shivering so much that he gathered all the strength he had left and crawled the few feet that separated him from his garment.
He winced as he felt his wounds reopening and his back was on fire. He was bleeding again. He knew it even before he saw the drops of fresh blood fall on the straw as he moved.
Some lashes had grazed his shoulders and upper arms and a couple had curled around his abdomen, the tip cutting the side of his stomach. His back was bad, he knew that without having to look, and somehow he suspected these blows wouldn't just leave the thin white scars that his previous punishments had. Arthur suspected this was the first proper flogging he had taken and the guards administering the previous ones had held back.
With a muttered curse Arthur put on his shirt and fell back facedown on the floor. This wasn't such a good idea, he knew, but the cold didn't let him think, didn't let him sleep and right now all he wanted was a few hours of unconsciousness. He would deal with the pain later.
* * *
When he next woke he felt a bit better. His back was still on fire; he had tried to roll in his sleep a couple of times, which ended with him being woken by the sharp pain of reopened wounds.
He remained where he was for a few minutes, staring at the dirty floor of his cell before taking a deep breath and steadying himself. His first attempt to sit up ended up with him panting, facedown on the floor, eyes shut in pain. He succeeded in the second one but he had bitten his lip again to keep himself from crying out loud.
Arthur allowed himself a few moments to rest before taking the little water he had left from his meal the day before and drinking it. It wasn't much but it made him feel much stronger.
He would need to take off his shirt again. It was bad enough that he had put it on with his open wounds. He could feel the material of the shirt sticking to the whip marks and he would surely reopen those by removing his shirt. Still, the damage was done and all he could do now was try to fix it.
One. Two.
"Fuck!" It came out as a long painful hiss that ended in a grunt. His wounds had reopened, of course, and the shirt was covered in dried and fresh blood. With a last effort he threw the shirt far away before laying down on his stomach again. He wouldn't be making that mistake again. The cold just had to be better.
* * *
He had almost fallen asleep again when he heard steps coming his way. He opened his eyes but made no move to sit up. He didn't think he would be able to even if he tried.
It was Gaius.
A guard was with him, one that hadn't witnessed his punishment, and he let out a gasp when he caught sight of Arthur.
"By the heavens!" Gaius exclaimed, rushing into the cell and to Arthur's side as soon as the door was opened. "I need fresh water and clean cloths," Gaius ordered the guard who hurried to get the required items.
The doctor kneeled down beside Arthur and put a hand to his forehead. "You're running a low fever. Not surprising with your wounds. What was Uther thinking only calling me this morning?"
"It's not that bad," Arthur said without conviction.
Gaius ignored him in favor of looking at his back. He frowned. "The wounds are bleeding still."
Arthur thought it better not to tell him about reopening them. Thankfully, the guard came back with a basin of water and clean cloths saving Arthur from answering Gaius' perceptive questions.
For the next minutes Gaius worked in silence, cleaning Arthur's wounds carefully and applying some sort of salve that stung so much that it had taken all of Arthur's will power not to jerk away.
"You are lucky your wounds weren't infected, Sire," Gaius said as he wrapped bandages around Arthur's torso. A maid had come minutes earlier and left a plate of food by Arthur's side. Gaius had helped him sit up and Arthur was munching on a piece of bread while Gaius worked. "It's very careless leaving open wounds untreated, especially in a place like this."
Arthur remained quiet. He didn't want to try to follow his father's reasoning for that. He didn't want to think about his father at all.
"After you are done eating, drink this." Gaius produced a vial from his pack and placed it on the floor. "It'll help with the pain. Try not to move too much or you'll reopen the wounds."
Arthur took the vial and nodded.
Gaius stood up slowly. "I'll be back tomorrow to change the bandages. If it hurts too much or you feel feverish send word with one of the guards immediately."
Arthur nodded but they both knew he wouldn't. He wasn't one to admit weakness.
The guard came back to unlock the door and Gaius moved to leave. He stopped by the door and looked back at Arthur. "What you did… Thank you, my boy," he said suddenly and bowed slightly to him.
"He's recovering, right?" Arthur asked, hesitantly.
"Yes, Sire. He should be completely recovered in a few days," the doctor assured him.
Arthur gave him a nod and Gaius left without another word.
* * *
The potions helped and when Gaius came back the next day to change the bandages Arthur was feeling more like himself. The wounds were cleaned again, the dreadful salve made another appearance and Gaius announced that his back was healing as well as could be expected.
"Merlin is feeling stronger now," Gaius said as he bandaged Arthur's torso. "He knows what you did for him."
Arthur could feel himself pale. "What?"
"The quest to get the flower, Sire. He was ready to go back to his duties this morning before I informed him that it wouldn't be necessary as you are to stay here a few days more."
"And what use would he be sick and weak? Sometimes I wonder if he has any common sense at all."
Gaius smiled. "He's not happy about you being here but he's glad for the extra days of rest."
"Did you tell him you were coming to see me?" Arthur asked, eyes narrowed.
"Everyone knows about you being arrested but the king hasn't made the rest of your, um, punishment, public."
Arthur let out a relieved breath. "Merlin?"
"Doesn't know about it, Sire."
"Good. Keep it that way," Arthur said and then added in an aloof tone, "the idiot is worse than a mother hen I don't need him to hover."
"Of course, Sire," Gaius replied dutifully but the tone suggested he saw right through the prince's act. "Gwen was let out yesterday. The Lady Morgana sends her regards."
Arthur frowned. "What? Guinevere was in the dungeons?"
"The guards recognized Gwen as the one who came here unauthorized the other day. The king sent her to the dungeons for a day."
"Is she alright?" Arthur asked, concerned.
"She's perfectly well," Gaius assured him. "She just spent a night on the cell and she's gone back to her duties now. She spends a lot of time sitting with Merlin."
"Oh." Well at least someone was there since he couldn't be.
"I'll be back tomorrow, Sire."
"Right," Arthur said and made the mistake of leaning back on the wall. He winced and sat up straight again. He would have to remember not to do that again. Gaius thankfully didn't seem to hear him and left. The physician wouldn't have been happy if he noticed Arthur messed up his work.
Now that he was feeling better and the burning in his back had gone down to almost tolerable levels Arthur was getting bored. His father knew very well just how much Arthur hated inactivity, which was why nights on the dungeon were his preferred punishment for his son. In a way the whipping had been a distraction and now Arthur was feeling cupped up and irritated again.
He stood up slowly and took careful steps across the cell. Moving hurt but it felt good to be doing something other than laying or sitting uncomfortably on the floor. Usually, when thrown in the dungeons, Arthur did his best to train in the confined space but now he also had to deal with the fact that any strong movement would reopen his wounds and he didn't want to think about the lecture and stern looks he would get from Gaius if he managed to do that.
He was careful and by the time the maid came with the evening meal Arthur was moving almost normally. He sat down, ate silently and then lay down to sleep.
* * *
When his week on the dungeons ended, Arthur's wounds were healing and he could walk and move with little or no pain. He still couldn't lie on his back but he figured he would have to wait until the wounds closed completely before attempting that.
After the guards let him out he hurried to his chambers. His father hadn't sent a change of clothes and he had been wearing the bloodstained shirt the last few days. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. The shirt was red and the dark color covered the dried blood but anyone who gave him a careful look would notice.
A few servants saw him on the way but they knew better than to stare and hurried with their duties as if the prince hadn't walked by them dirty and tired looking. Once in his chambers Arthur stripped from his clothes, ready to take a bath before he remembered Merlin was still recovering and there was no one to draw the bath for him.
He put on a robe, opened his door, stopped the first servant he saw and ordered him to get the bath ready. The boy was back a few minutes later with buckets of water and the bath was ready in mere moment.
"Should I help you, Sire?" the boy asked, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
Arthur gave him an irritated look and sent him off. He removed his bandages and stepped into the tub of warm water. His wounds stung at the contact with the water but after a moment his back muscles relaxed and he let out a content sigh.
Merlin's baths were always too cold or too warm and it took him twice the time to get them ready. He was really quite useless sometimes.
Closing his eyes Arthur enjoyed the quiet. It was never quiet with Merlin there, always rambling about one thing or another or complaining about the chores or how Arthur should stop acting like an annoying prat and do something for himself every now and then.
Yeah, it was too quiet now.
He finished his bath quick and was in the middle of redoing the bandages when he heard a knock on the door.
"Go away!" Arthur said, irritated.
"Sire?" someone asked from the other side of the door. "The king is requesting your presence. The Mercia delegation is leaving."
Oh joy.
"I'll be there in a moment," he said and finished with his bandages quickly.
When he walked into the throne room a few minutes later he found his father standing stiffly before Bayard and the rest of the Mercia delegation. All eyes fell on him and Arthur walked straight, head held high, to his father's side.
The king spoke, "We bid you farewell, King Bayard and hope that the misunderstandings of this visit won't blemish the good relations between our peoples."
Bayards eyes narrowed. "I see now that Camelot is quick to send royalty to the dungeons." He turned his eyes to Arthur. "But Amends have been made and we part in peace."
Uther stiffened but he nodded with a polite smile and extended his hand to Bayard. "Safe journey."
Bayard clasped Uther's hand. "Farewell."
* * *
The talk by the walls as they watched the Mercia delegation leave was his father's equivalent of an apology. When Uther put his hand on Arthur's shoulder he pressed unknowingly on one of the lash marks, making the pride Arthur felt at the slight recognition in his father's words to be tinted with the hurt and anger of what had happened a few days before.
Uther didn't ask about his back. Arthur didn't acknowledge any wound.
The short talk left him feeling drained and confused, thoughts and feelings jumbled, so with a decisive step he went to do what he should have done the moment he was let out. He went to see Merlin.
The idiot looked horrible. His skin was pale and clammy and he could barely get the strength to backtalk to Arthur. Still, Arthur made sure Merlin knew he was expected back at work and Arthur tried to tell himself it was because his boots needed polishing and his armor shining and not because he was tired of being alone with his thoughts and he wanted Merlin's incompetence and irreverence back.
There were a mountain of papers for him to revise when he got back to him room. The week in the dungeons hadn't spared him from his duties and he had a lot of catching up to do. In a way he was thankful because the crops' status and water shortage up north took precedence to the knights training so he felt entitled to spend the day in his chambers reviewing that instead of out in the training field. One more day to rest should be enough.
A servant girl came in the evening with a tray of food for him. He thanked her and ate while reading, thankful that his father hadn't summoned him for supper. It was late when he finally finished and he collapsed in bed, grateful for the soft and warm mattress.
* * *
"You do know it's light out already?"
Arthur's eyes opened instantly. He shifted, covers slipping past his waist, and found Merlin standing by the foot of the bed, giving him an amused look. "Wha?"
"Cheerful as always in the morning, I see," Merlin said and then opened the blinds on the windows. The bright light of day hit Arthur's face making him too aware that he had overslept.
"Why didn't you wake me!?" Arthur demanded as he threw the covers and stood up. The wounds on his back protested the quick movement but Arthur ignored them and went to the basin on the table to wash his face. "I should be training with the knights by now."
"For what I see they are doing a good enough job without you," Merlin commented looking out the window.
"Of course they're doing well." Arthur rolled his eyes. "I trained them. It doesn't mean I can slack off on my duties." He gave Merlin a careful look and then added, "Like some incompetent servants like to do."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Should I help you dress then, Sire?"
And just for the irreverent inflection in Merlin's voice Arthur was tempted to make him do just that but he shook his head. "Fetch my breakfast," he said instead.
Merlin turned his head to the table and Arthur noticed for the fist time the plate waiting for him. "Well, maybe you are not as incompetent as I thought." He sat down and ate his meal quickly. When he finished he gestured to the plates and ordered Merlin to get them back to the kitchen.
"Shouldn't I help you dress first?" Merlin asked.
"I'm quite capable of doing that myself." Arthur glared. "I'm a prince, I think I can handle pulling up my breeches."
Merlin silently gathered the plates but Arthur heard a mutter of 'prat' as his servant closed the door. Arthur smiled, shook his head amused and then changed quickly. He contemplated putting on his armor but he would need Merlin's help with that and it wasn't absolutely necessary for a training session.
The knights stopped training when he approached and stood respectfully, waiting for him to address them. Arthur nodded at them and told them to carry on while Sir Leon updated him on what had been done in his absence.
Two new hopefuls had arrived for training. Sir Leon had them mucking the stables for five days already but he was waiting until Arthur's return to move them to basic training. The younger of them, Lord Rydell had humbly assumed the task but the older, Lord Wessex, was acting most arrogant according to Sir Leon.
"Aright," Arthur said. "Go to Rydell and I'll find Wessex, let's see if they're ready to move up to basic training."
Arthur found Wessex leaning back on the wall of the stables, the broom ignored at the floor by his feet.
"I see you have little desire to become a knight," Arthur said, stepping up to the man. "Maybe you need more time at the stables."
The man glared at him. "I'm of noble blood, this is no job for me… Sire." The honorific was added as an afterthought.
"You think you're too good for this? Then you don't have what it takes to become a knight." Arthur bent down and picked up the handle of a broken pitchfork, laying nearby. He twirled it once in his hand.
"I have what it takes," the man replied angrily. He was older than Arthur and bigger and it was clear that being talked down like that by someone younger hurt his pride.
"Let's see it then, draw your sword."
And that was the first test. An honorable man would have declined and taken a weapon similar to the one Arthur was brandishing but Wessex had no such qualms.
Wessex struck first. It was a wide swipe that Arthur sidestepped easily. The man raised the sword again and tried a stabbing move. Arthur moved around him and brought the stick hard on Wessex's back. With a groan, Wessex collapsed to the ground.
"I think a few more days in the stables will suit you well." Arthur said and started to walk away.
He heard Wessex get up, heard the tip of the sword drag on the ground as the man rushed at him. Arthur turned turn around and raised the stick just in time to par the sword. The wood splintered and Wessex smiled as he brought his sword down, aiming for Arthur's side.
Arthur elbowed the man on the neck and pushed him back. Wessex stumbled but charged once more. Before he could swing his sword Arthur grabbed Wessex's arm, twisted it behind his back and pulled until Wessex's fingers gave and his sword fell down.
Using his foot Arthur flipped his sword up and caught it in his free hand. He rested the blade on the back of Wessex's neck. "Another week in the stables," he said. "And if you charge at an unarmed man again while wielding a sword you'll be out. Is that understood?"
A moment passed until Wessex said, "Yes, Sire."
Arthur let him go. "I'll send someone to watch over your work. We don't want you slacking," he said and turned to go.
He picked up Wessex's muttered curse but let it slide. He was no good. Arthur could see that now but having him muck up the stables would do no harm. Especially since he didn't want Merlin doing any heavy chores yet.
Rydell had faired much better since he was on the training grounds when Arthur returned. Arthur picked up a sword from the rack and approached the new trainee.
"Alright, Let's see what you got."
* * *
A warm bath was waiting for Arthur when he came back. His muscles ached after the days of inactivity. He was so glad to see the tub that he undressed immediately, made a quick work of the banages and stepped into the warm water.
"What the hell happened to you!?"
Right. Merlin.
His servant was standing by the table, open mouthed, looking straight at him.
"I would like some privacy, Merlin," Arthur said, tiredly.
"That's not an answer," Merlin said, walking closer, eyes fixed on Arthur's shoulders and upper arms. "What happened to you?"
Arthur sighed. "I don't know what you mean, Merlin, and if I did, it would be none of your business."
"Let me see your back," Merlin demanded, crossing his arms in front of him.
"Have you forgotten I am the prince and you are the servant?" Arthur asked, remaining stubbornly on the tub.
"Like you would ever let me forget that," Merlin muttered and then walked around. Arthur tried to slip more into the tub but he knew his upper back was still visible.
"Those are lash marks." Merlin sounded distressed. "Arthur, what happened?"
Arthur could feel the beginnings of a headache. "It's alright, Merlin. It's nothing."
"It isn't nothing!" Merlin was almost yelling now. "You have lash marks on your back. You are the prince, who would flog the prince…" A look of sudden understanding appeared on Merlin's face, which was quickly replaced by anger and then something Arthur couldn't quite place. "Your father… He had no right!"
"I'm his subject just like everyone else. He has every right." Arthur was suddenly tired of the bath and the discussion. "Hand me a towel," he ordered as he stood up.
Merlin almost dropped the towel when he got a full look at Arthur's back. "You are bleeding," he whispered.
"Perfect," Arthur muttered. He put the towel around his waist and went to the cupboard to get fresh bandages but then Merlin took them carefully from his hands.
"Allow me," he said.
Merlin guided him to a chair, kneeled down and then worked quietly, wrapping the bandages carefully around the prince's torso. "Was this…" Merlin said, breaking the silence. "Was this because of me?"
Arthur hated the guilt in Merlin's voice. "No," he said, quickly. "It's really nothing, Merlin."
"You are lying." Merlin finished and looked up at Arthur. "I'm sorry."
Arthur frowned. "What in haven's name are you apologizing for? Saving my life?"
"No." Merlin bowed his head. "Getting you hurt."
"You didn't do anything other than lying delirious for days and I certainly don't remember you wielding the whip." Arthur stood up and put on a shirt.
"But you went for the flower even though your father had forbidden it." Merlin stood up but his head remained bowed. "Gaius said you had been arrested but I never thought the king would…"
Arthur had enough of this. He walked up to Merlin and pulled up his chin. "Look at me, Merlin." Merlin raised his eyes. "I said it's nothing. I wasn't about to let you die and I don't regret it."
"Arthur?"
"Do you understand?" Arthur asked, still holding Merlin's chin.
"Yes." Merlin's eyes were wide and his lower lip was trembling. "I… thank you."
Arthur swallowed. "There's nothing to thank."
"But there is," Merlin said softly. "You did that and got punished… for me." He leaned forward.
Arthur held his breath. "It's nothi-"
Merlin put two fingers over Arthur's lips. "It's something," he said, removed the fingers and kissed Arthur softly on the lips. "Thank you."
Merlin took a step back, waited a second and then turned to leave. In a swift move Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand and pulled him back.
"You call that a proper thanks?" he asked, smirking.
Merlin was stunned for a moment and the rolled his eyes. "Demanding sod," he muttered.
Arthur's smirk widened. "Care to try again?" This time he didn't leave Merlin room to reply and just pulled him the last couple of inches until their lips met again.
And if Arthur had his way, which he usually did, Merlin will be trying again and again and again.
- The End -