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Chapter Text

Gwen sat down with a loud sigh, stretching out her pruney fingers. Finally done with Morgana’s laundry, it was now that coveted hour of the evening where she had a little time to herself.

“Long day?” Elizabeth, an elderly maid sitting next to her, asked with an amused smile. Gwen just grunted and grabbed one of the provided goblets with fresh water, downing it.

The kitchen was warm thanks to the oven that had been fired up for dinner, which was part of the reason the servants used it to gather each night. When the chores were done and the nobles and royalty went to bed, the servant staff of Camelot’s castle found reprieve in sitting around, gossiping about the upper class and complaining about their monotonous work.

Gwen didn’t join them often. She honestly didn’t have much to complain about on account of Morgana’s kind treatment of her, as well as often feeling too tired at the end of the day. Even so, today’s endlessly long list of chores seemed to have unconsciously carried her feet down the steps to the kitchen, seeking a social break from it all. So, she found herself in the dimly lit kitchen around a table with tonight’s selection of servants.

“You’d never believe the crap I’ve had to deal with with Lord Aldous today,” bemoaned Dunstan, a manservant swirling his cup of water as if it were brandy.

“Ooh, did he slap you around?” pressed Elizabeth, her wrinkled eyes hungry for drama.

Dunstan leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “He might as well have. The man’s a snobbish puss. He ordered me around all day, screaming about every little thing I did wrong. Once, he even allowed me to fully dress him for the banquet, only for him to decide it was the wrong clothes and making me undress and redress him. It took close to an hour.”

“I’ll say,” Chef Audrey chimed in from across the kitchen, her back turned as she made preparations for breakfast tomorrow, “The man even made a show of spitting out my soup at the banquet saying it was too spicy, although I’ve never made anything milder in my life…”

Gwen put her chin in her hand as she listened to the complaints, an amused smile softly tugging on her lips. Whenever visiting nobility came it usually created a stir, the staff’s opinions of them always a hot topic of conversation.

After a few minutes, the conversation died down. Following a beat of silence, Henry, a teenaged stable boy, blurted, “Has anyone seen Merlin this evening?”

Gwen’s ear immediately perked up at the name, and everyone’s attention was quickly on the boy. It wasn’t uncommon for Merlin to miss these nightly meet-ups or be scarce since he was always with Arthur, so it was a peculiar question. Everyone shook their heads.

“Why? Is he missing?” asked Abigail, a young cookhand with large, doe-y eyes. There was a hint of concern in her voice. It wasn’t a secret that Merlin was well-liked among the serving staff.

Henry looked down in his goblet, frowning. “No, I just… I saw him get hurt earlier this evening and I wasn’t sure if he was okay or not. At least, I think he got hurt? He walked away from it like nothing had happened…”

Gwen clenched her fists in alarm as others let out noises of confusion.

“Wha- he’s hurt?? What on earth happened?” Gwen nearly shouted, concern for her friend flaring up like a torch inside her chest, her previous fatigue completely forgotten.

It was then that the door swung open, and the topic of conversation himself casually waltzed into the room with an oblivious grin on his face.

Gwen gasped along with the others as she looked at him. He had a large, red and purple bruise on the right part of his forehead. There wasn’t any bleeding, but it had swelled to be a small lump on his skull, and looked painful.

Completely unaware of the mood, Merlin nodded in greeting, taking a seat at the table. Gwen noticed the wince as he sat down, and quickly perceived that he wasn’t moving his right arm.

“Evening, everyone. Sorry I’m late to the late-night chat, but I missed dinner. Mind if I snag some leftovers?”

The servants all gaped at him for a moment. Chef Audrey, however, with her back still turned, snorted in reply, “Dinner was over hours ago, Merlin. You’ll have to lick the crumbs off the table—” but she cut off as she turned to look at him. Taking in the sight of his face, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Merlin rolled his eyes in response, but then finally seemed to notice all the gazes fixed on him. He frowned. “What—”

“Merlin, your head!” Abigail exclaimed, nearly jumping to her feet. At the same time, Dunstan loudly talked over her, “What in the blue blazes did you do to yourself this time, Merlin? Get in some kind of fight?”

Merlin blinked for a moment, then waved away the concerned questions and comments with a flopping wrist, looking tired. “Nothing of interest. Just fell over.” He scanned the kitchen table. “Are there at least some drinks going around?”

Henry pressed his palms into the table in exasperation. “‘Nothing?’ I— Merlin, I saw you almost get trampled by a horse today.”

“What??”

More looks of bewilderment centered on the lanky manservant and he sat up straighter, his expression becoming defensive.

“I wasn’t trampled, just…. “ he swallowed, then said, softer, “just kicked a little…”

Elizabeth slammed her goblet onto the table, water sloshing out the sides. Merlin jumped a little, and Gwen caught his wince at the slight jostling of his arm.

The white-haired woman cocked an eyebrow at him. “Alright. Out with it, boy. Either you tell us the story or Henry will.”

Dunstan leaned further back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table with a smirk. “Honestly, Merlin, you can’t come in here with a face looking like that and expect to keep the details quiet. Why come here in the first place if not to ‘spill the tea’, so to say?”

Merlin stared at him and Elizabeth with annoyance, but finally let out a sigh of defeat, his shoulders dropping. “All right, you insufferable lot. Here it is: I was taking a horse back to the stables after the hunt. One of the hunters threw something at me and yelled, spooking the horse, and she barely managed to clip me in the head with her hoof. The end.”

Unsatisfied, Gwen raised her eyebrows at Merlin, tilting her head innocently. “And your arm?”

Merlin stared back at her with wide eyes, now unconsciously rubbing his right arm, which continued to dangle limply. “How did you…”

“Think he landed on his elbow weird from what I saw,” Henry mumbled thoughtfully, rubbing a finger on the rim of his goblet.

Not waiting any longer to tend to her friend, Gwen rose to her feet and made her way to the seat next to Merlin. “Here, let me look at it. Have you seen Gaius yet?”

Merlin opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Chef Audrey, who quietly placed a bowl of steaming soup and a spoon in front of Merlin. He looked up at her with confusion and gratitude.

“Thought there was nothing left?”

“Scraped the pot,” was all she said, already making her way towards the dirty dishes in the wash box.

Gwen smiled at the gesture as she settled next to Merlin. Even with all the barbs Merlin and the Chef threw at each other, she knew the woman had a secret soft spot for him.

As Merlin began shoveling in food, she tried to get a good look at the massive bruise. The swelling has gotten worse in the short minute he has been here, causing her to frown. Merlin still hadn’t answered her about Gaius, and still a million more questions played on her tongue about his story. Fortunately, the other servants quickly voiced them.

“Who spooked the horse?” Abigail asked, her eyes wide with worry. “They should’ve been more careful, that’s awful that you got hurt.”

Henry, next to her, looked equally as curious, showing that he hadn’t seen the guilty person himself.

When Merlin remained silent, opting to continue to slurp soup instead, Dunstan hummed. “I bet it was that awful Lord Aldous, wasn’t it? Man couldn’t stop boasting about his kills when I was dressing him. I wouldn't be surprised if he hollered like a banshee about it enough to spook a full stable of horses. I wouldn’t put it past him to throw stuff at servants, either.”

The others mumbled in agreement, looking angry and annoyed.

The thought of someone causing harm to Merlin on castle grounds made Gwen’s hands still before she could examine Merlin’s arm. She has a brief and sudden realization.

“Wait. Merlin, does Arthur know about this?”

There was a beat of silence. The servants around the table froze, the stillness only broken by a single moth flying around the dim light of the candelabra.

Merlin sipped his soup, a bead of sweat pouring down the side of his face.

Gwen grabbed his good shoulder and forced Merlin to face her. “Merlin, why haven’t you told Arthur? Is the reason you’re down here to… to hide from him?”

Merlin gave a sheepish grin, making his small “...no?” entirely unconvincing.

Dunstan was the first to speak, jumping to his feet. “Are you kidding me, Merlin?? Oh, when he finds out, Prince Arthur is going to kill you. No, he’s going to kill Lord Aldous, then kill you.”

That’s when chaos erupted. Abigail let out a terrified squeak, Henry ran a nervous hand through his hair, and Elizabeth began cackling, smacking a hand to her forehead. “Oh this is good. This is way too good.”

Merlin finally spoke, his spoon dropping from his hand. “What? Why is everyone freaking out??”

Gwen shook her head in disbelief. It seemed everyone in this castle knew how protective Arthur could get over his manservant other than Merlin. When Arthur found out Merlin got hurt by someone and Merlin didn’t tell him…

Suddenly, loud, hurried footsteps gradually grew louder until the kitchen door flew open with a bang. A young castle guard stood panting in the doorway, looking like he was being chased by a ghost.

“Prince Arthur is looking for Merlin. He’s tearing apart the castle and he is mad as hell.”

Behind him, a distant call of “MERLIN!!” Could be heard echoing through the stairway, along with some crashing sounds.

It was too late for the manservant, it seemed.

Abigail screeched, Henry gazed around the room looking for an escape, and Chef Audrey crossed herself, murmuring a prayer.

Merlin stared at the table in front of him, eyes wide as he listened to his name echoing through the castle. He gripped the edge of the table with trembling hands, “I knew he’d freak out… just… just not this much…”

Gwen tried to muster some sympathy for him, but instead amusement seemed to tug at her as she observed his plight. Merlin had made this bed for himself, and now was going to lie in it.

Merlin suddenly gripped her arm, his eyes pleading.

“Gwen. Hide me. Hide me please.”

Chapter Text

The guard who had warned them (and seemed to value his life) was now long gone, leaving the group of panicked servants to figure out what to do with the Prince’s currently-hunted prey.

“Oh he’s going to kill us all for letting you hide here…” Dunstan moaned, now pacing back and forth.

“Where should we hide him??” Abigail squeaked, swinging her head to look around the room. There was only the one exit of the stairwell, and the sounds of Arthur’s thundering footsteps and yelling were growing progressively louder from that direction.

“The broom closet!” Gwen shouted, standing Merlin up and steering him towards the opposite wall. She doubted it would protect him much from Arthur’s fury, but it was the least they could do to give him a chance.

She managed to shove him in there, close the door, and run back to the table right before the door flew open with a loud bang.

There, in the doorway, stood the Prince of Camelot himself. And he was positively livid.

Gwen could practically see the steam rising off of him. His face was red, he was panting as if he had been running around the castle for hours, and he held them under his gaze as if he was ready to distribute 6 executions in one breath. Still fully dressed in his day clothes despite the late hour, his hair was mussed and he looked rather ragged and unregal.

Those of the servants who weren’t standing already stood, and each grasped their sweaty palms in front of them in polite respect.

Chef Audrey, apparently the bravest of them all, cleared her throat. “Good evening, your majesty. How can we help—”

“Merlin.” He breathed, his voice deadly. “Is Merlin here?”

Everyone quickly shook their heads. Even so, Arthur continued to hold them under his threatening gaze expectantly, long enough for it to get extremely uncomfortable. Abigail was the first to break, and she made a fatal mistake, her gaze flicking to the closet for half a second.

At that, Arthur’s face broke into a manic grin.

“Ah. An evening chat among the servants I see? Here, let me help you clear the table.”

He walked over to the table and everyone stepped away in confusion and fear, lining the walls.

He sauntered forward, trailing a hand along the wood. “You see, my dear serving staff, I’m in search of my idiotic manservant for a few reasons. Not only did he disappear without a trace hours ago, shirking his duties, and making me fret over his disappearance like a madman…” he swung an arm and smacked a goblet to the ground, making a loud clattering sound that caused everyone to wince.

He reached for the next goblet. “...but he also made it so I had to squeeze information out of every bloody guard in this tower—” he threw the next one to the ground— “to finally find out he has been seen with a bludgeoned face—” another clatter—“which was quite possibly, as the rumor among the guards has gone, given to him by someone on this very castle ground.”

With one last backhand, all the goblets were on the ground, small puddles of water pooling out across the floor. He turned to face Henry, still keeping up his crazed smile. “...and instead of coming to me, he thought he could hide from me. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

Henry swallowed, looking pale. “Yes, sire. Very ridiculous”

Arthur let out an unsteady laugh. “I’ve been losing my mind because I’ve been itching to kill someone but have no idea who.” He raised his voice and swiveled himself towards the closet. “But perhaps my manservant cowering in the closet can enlighten me.”

With that, he walked to the closet and flung the door open, revealing an exposed, fumbling Merlin.

Merlin quickly averted his gaze. “Ah. Here it is.” He grabbed a broom and held it out with a nervous smile. “Finally found the broom I needed. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

Arthur grabbed his shoulder in a deadly grip, making Merlin drop the broom.

“Let’s have a little chat, shall we, Merlin?”

Merlin audibly swallowed. The servants shivered.

“You’re all dismissed.” Arthur called to the group, not bothering to look over his shoulder. He steered his manservant over to two chairs, faced them towards each other, and forced Merlin to sit down across from him.

The servants didn’t have to be told twice, and they all booked it to the exit, shoulders dropping in relief at the realization they had gotten off without punishment. Henry flashed Merlin a sympathetic look over his shoulder, and soon they were all gone.

Gwen chose to stay. Firstly, because she wanted to help treat Merlin. She and Arthur were good enough friends at this point that she knew he wouldn’t mind, and he knew better than to boss her around. Chef Audrey seemed to understand this, and she wordlessly handed Gwen a first aid kit from the kitchen cabinet before she left, to which Gwen nodded in gratitude.

Secondly, she chose to stay because a small, curious part of her was wanting to hear their conversation. And as she sat down next to Arthur with the bag of medical supplies, the scolding, predictably, began.

“Of all the idiotic things you’ve done, Merlin, this is top of the list.” He growled, reaching up to hold Merlin’s chin in his hands, tilting his face to look at the swollen injury. The gentleness with which he handled him greatly contrasted with the harshness of his tone. “I should sack you on the spot. How could you possibly think it would be reasonable to let someone beat you up under my nose and then run away from me like a child–”

“Because I knew you’d freak out like a maniac– ow–”

“Hold still,” Arthur muttered, now brushing away the hair at Merlin’s hairline to see how high the bruising went. “Did Gauis say you have a concussion? Any dizziness or nausea?”

Merlin bit his lip, “No, no symptoms like that,” but then grew awkwardly quiet, the first question left unanswered.

Arthur froze, then scowled. “You didn’t see Gauis, did you.”

“He’s downtown helping with a birth this evening. Look, I appreciate your concern, Arthur, really, but this is a very minor injury and I am perfectly capable of–”

“We need to look at his right arm, too,” Gwen chimed in, preparing a rag soaked with chilled water to put on his head.

Arthur’s body visibly tensed, his already available fury coming back to the surface. “What’s wrong with his arm?” he asked, his voice low and bristling.

Merlin tried to scoot away, but the prince firmly grabbed his wrist, pushing up his sleeve. His arm now bare, Gwen frowned at the sight of swelling around Merlin’s elbow and the redness of the skin.

The manservant let out a sigh. “Honestly, it’s just a sprained elbow. It’ll go away in a week or so. Arthur, we both know that I am a more qualified physician than you are. I can take care of myself.”

Arthur nodded in fake agreement, as he continued to hold the arm in his hands. “Uh huh. Now tell me, great physician, shouldn’t an injury like this warrant a sling? It seems your great expertise thought it best to let it dangle around like a noodle, which I’m sure is just excellent for the damaged muscle.”

Seemingly not able to think of a good comeback, Merlin mumbled “prat” and allowed Arthur to tend to it.

Gwen watched as Arthur carefully lifted Merlin’s arm into a bent angle, causing Merlin to let out a noise of pain, his arm twitching. The sound broke Arthur’s mask of anger, his concern now on full display.

“You alright?” he asked softly. Merlin swallowed and nodded, though his face was noticeably paler.

With increased gentleness, Arthur took the bandages supplied by Gwen and began wrapping them around the elbow, securing it in place. Fortunately, the first aid bag had a large square of fabric they were able to use as a sling, and he gently placed Merlin’s arm in it and tied it around the his neck. Gwen couldn’t help but smile at the display of tenderness in which Arthur handled him, something that could hardly be seen between any other monarch and servant.

“There. That should be adequate enough until Gaius can look at it.” After he finished securing it, Arthur sat back and cleared his throat, regaining his “I’m the prince and you better listen to me” voice.

“Now. This is the part where you tell me who did this to you so I can have the dungeon cell occupied by first light. And don’t—” He cut off Merlin before his mouth could open for an excuse “—think you can get around it. I am not letting either of us leave this spot until you give me a straight answer.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Fine. The stable hand Henry can tell you. It was no one, just a horse that got a little jumpy. It knocked me down. Would it please you to jail the horse, my lord?”

Ignoring the jab, Arthur took the cold rag from Gwen’s hands and began dabbing his forehead, making Merlin wince slightly. The prince’s face remained unsatisfied. “A horse, you say? Then why is the whole castle buzzing with rumors that it was a nobleman or knight who hurt you?”

“He said someone spooked the horse. Threw something at him,” Gwen said automatically, though quickly wishing she had just kept quiet when Merlin gave her a look of betrayal. Gwen sent back an apologetic look, but also felt confused. Why did he want to keep quiet about this? Why did he care so much about protecting Lord Aldous?

The prince leaned back in his chair, pausing his ministrations. He lifted an eyebrow, his expression hard and voice intimidating. “Well, Merlin? Who was it?”

The manservant threw his good hand up in air in frustration. “What does it matter? You really want to ring someone’s neck that badly?? Arthur, I don’t matter that much, I’m just a servant for god’s sake!”

Arthur stood up and bellowed, “JUST A SERVANT?? By the gods, Merlin you are not–” He then cut himself off suddenly. The silence was so abrupt that Gwen turned to look at him, bewildered. His expression had completely changed from anger to some form of twisted pain and realization. Merlin watched him silently.

After a moment, Arthur said quietly. “...it was me, wasn’t it?”

Silence.

She turned to Merlin, waiting for him to deny it, but he just continued to stare at Arthur, looking sad. After a moment, he looked down at his lap and mumbled, “It was an accident, Arthur. Not your fault.”

Arthur sat down heavily, putting a hand over his mouth. His eyes were wide as he recalled previous events. “It was… it was when I threw my gear at you, wasn’t it? I just expected you to catch it and turned away… I was so focused on chatting with the Knights that I treated you like a pack animal. What did I shout? “Go put this away, idiot?” or something? And the horse, I caused it to kick you… I didn't even notice.”

Gwen watched as Arthur slowly broke down, sliding his hands through his hair, letting out some kind of strangled version of a laugh. He looked at the ground, his expression twisted in despair.

“That’s why you hid from me, huh? You didn’t want me to know.”

Merlin wrung his hands, but gave a slow, small nod. “I didn’t want you to feel bad. You always beat yourself up about things that aren’t your fault. And you have enough to worry about.”

Arthur shook his head. “You never have a problem calling me a prat, Merlin. Why, when I’m actually behaving like one, do you decide to keep your mouth shut?” Gwen saw tears well up in his eyes, something she had never seen happen to Arthur before. “This whole time… the fool who hurt you that I was searching for, ready to strangle… “ he trailed off. An unspoken “it was me” hung in the air.

Merlin placed his good hand over Arthur’s, which was resting on his lap, and squeezed it gently. Not for the first time in this conversation, Gwen felt like she was invading on a private moment where she didn’t belong.

“It’s okay, Arthur. I forgive you.”

The prince let out another choked laugh, finally looking up to meet Merlin’s eyes. “I haven’t even apologized yet.”

“You don’t have to. Although, you could manage to treat me a little less like dirt every now and then…”

Arthur put his other hand over his face, chuckling through tears. “Oh, Merlin… what did I do to deserve a friend like you? I’m positively horrid to you and you stick around anyways. Why in the world do you do that?”

“To keep you from falling off cliffs. Oh, and make sure you actually bathe every once in a while.”

Arthur laughed again at that. For the next few minutes, they joked and exchanged more friendly banter. Arthur soon began fussing over Merlin once again, dabbing his head, asking about his pain, and threatening him if he didn’t rest and take the day off.

Pretty certain that they had forgotten she was there long ago, Gwen decided to take her leave. Leaving the supplies on the chair, she quietly slipped through the door, finally giving them privacy. As she padded up the candlelit steps, she observed with some humor the aftermath of Arthur’s rampage, seeing knocked over candlesticks and shaken-looking guards.

Once again, she found herself admiring Arthur and Merlin’s friendship. How Merlin managed to change Arthur from a raging beast to a laughing, tender caretaker in only a matter of minutes, Gwen didn’t know.

It was a kind of magic that only he possessed.