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Someone’s been hurting Merlin. Arthur comes to this conclusion quite quickly actually, he began to notice the difference in his manservant two weeks prior. Merlin had come to work limping, and treating his wrist delicately, using it as little as possible. A few days later, a black eye and Arthur was sure if he were to look further he would find more bruises littering the boys skin. So, yeah, someone’s been hurting Merlin. And that just doesn’t sit right with Arthur. So, when Merlin walks in to Arthur’s chambers that morning, a bruised wrist that makes Merlin grimace if touched, and a nasty cut on his forehead; Arthur decides enough is enough. This can’t go on any longer. And he’ll be dammed if he lets it. “Who did that to you?” Arthur and it between mouthfuls of breakfast, as if it’s unimportant, as if it’s just another chore. But it isn’t, someone is hurting Merlin, and Arthur - Arthur isn’t quite sure what he feels about that, but he is not okay with that. Merlin looks casually confused about the question, or he would, if Arthur didn’t know the boy as well as he did. He could see straight through Merlin’s pretences, right through to the panic, to the guilt. He could see Merlin freeze and tense up, getting ready to leave. Fight or flight put into motion. “I - Arthur? Forgive me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arthur shot Merlin a look as if to say: ‘you don’t really think I’m that stupid, right?’. As it turns out, Merlin does think him that stupid, because the boys brow is still furrowed in mock confusion. Merlin’s eyes flicker around the room, seemingly looking for the quickest way out - of this room, this situation- the quickest way to get away from Arthur. “Liar.” “N - no, Arthur, really - ” “Okay, okay,” Arthur tries to soothe Merlin, who is quickly going into defensive mode. “Say I believe - which I don’t - say I believe you, explain to me your wrist.” Merlin’s eyes flick between his wrist and Arthur, “Explain it how?” Arthur rolls his eyes, pushing his chair back and standing up. He goes over to Merlin, till he’s standing in front of him, panting at his left wrist. “Don’t play dumb, Merlin. It’s black and blue, it looks like someone’s grabbed you.” Arthur reaches out and gently grabs Merlin’s wrist, Merlin shakes his head mutely. Arthur looks up from Merlin’s wrist, meeting the boys eyes, “Let me look, Merlin. It’s okay, I promise. I’ve got your back, okay?” “N - no, Arthur, Sire! Please don’t - ”. It all happened so quick. Merlin pulled away, Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s wrist, and the boy screamed. Not loudly, but he sounded in so much pain. And Arthur had caused that. He let go of Merlin, as though he was on fire, and had burned Arthur. That pain on Merlin’s face, in his voice as he cradled his wrist - that was Arthur. Arthur had caused that. And he hated it. Guilt welled up inside him, to a point he felt as though he should burst. “M - Merlin,” the boy flinched away from Arthur. His face turned away as though he’d been hit, as though he’d been expecting a slap. And, God, that hurt. “I’m so sorry.” “Why couldn’t you just leave it be, Arthur!?” Merlin’s face was contorted in anger, his cheeks flushed in rage. His eyes were screwed up, glossy with tears. “Because, someone hurt you, Merlin! Am I just supposed to be okay with that?” “Yes! You’ve never cared before,” Merlin scoffed, “Sometimes I don’t understand what is going on with you Arthur. Why you suddenly care.” Now, Arthur felt as though he’d been slapped, he couldn’t think of something to say in return. The way Merlin seemed so shocked that Arthur cared, that he wanted to help, that struck him to the bone. Merlin’s hint at being hurt before and Arthur not caring. That wasn’t true! He would’ve cared, if he wasn’t so thick, if he’d noticed. “Merlin,” Arthur says softly, eyes large and searching Merlin’s face. “I care, I do. I promise! I’m just slow. Let me help you.” “Come on, you can do better than that.” Arthur wasn’t going to rise to Merlin’s bait, he didn’t want to say or do something he would regret. He didn’t want to contribute to any pain or suffering the boy was already dealing with. “Merlin, your excused for the day. Please, before we both say something we’ll regret. I just hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me who’s been hurting you, let me be there for you.” “No.” And Arthur’s mostly sure that it’s out of spite he refuses to tell him, he can tell Merlin’s wanting to. Something is holding him back - or, rather, someone is. And, dear god, when Arthur finds out who. “I respect that, but you deserve help. So if you can’t, or won’t, tell me; just tell someone.” Merlin frowns, as though he is beginning to understand that maybe Arthur really does care. And he does, Arthur cares so much, he can feel it pouring out if every pore. It’s blatantly obvious, his emotions are on full display for Merlin. Merlin makes him - vulnerable. Merlin leaves. Quickly and quietly. He gathers his stuff, the glasses and plates, and all the left over food. And when he’s gone, Arthur feels cold and empty. As though he didn’t try hard enough, as if he’s just lost Merlin. And he can’t deal with that. He needs Merlin. He needs him to turn around and tell Arthur, he need him to come back. Arthur needs Merlin to be safe. Because, because - Because Merlin is his friend. His best friend. His everything.