Author's Note: Having recently rewatched "The Poisoned Chalice," I always wondered what Uther's reaction would have initially been when he realized Arthur defied him regarding saving Merlin with the flower. So this is my attempt to fill in the gap. I also have read a million fics that have Merlin sacrificing himself for Arthur, but I've always thought Arthur would be just as willing to sacrifice for Merlin.

Arthur heard Uther's footsteps before he saw him. He'd been expecting his father's arrival and stood up from the floor of his cell as the king halted outside. He met him eye to eye.

"I expressly forbid you to help the boy."

"I assume he lives, then."

Uther's face flashed with anger.

"Then I don't have to find another servant," Arthur added, referring to Uther's earlier callous remark that implied Merlin would die and Arthur could replace him.

"No," Uther growled. "I'm disappointed in you, Arthur."

Arthur almost cheekily replied "So what's new?" but managed to keep his tongue in check. "I didn't want to go against you, but a life needed to be saved. I could not stand by and watch a subject of Camelot die when I had the ability to save him."

"He's a servant, nothing more."

"He's a..."

"You disobeyed your king!" Uther shouted. "How do you think it looks when even my own son is bold enough to question my orders? Some day you will understand what it means to be king and that the obedience of your subjects is the foundation of your kingdom."

Arthur understood he'd wounded his father's pride, but he still wasn't sorry for what he'd done. "I did what was right. A king should do what is right."

Uther let out a frustrated breath. "You're acting like a willful child."

"And you're acting like an arrogant king!" Arthur returned, his anger getting the better of him.

Uther widened his eyes in surprise, then his gaze hardened once more. "You've only confirmed my decision to modify your punishment."

What now? Arthur thought.

"You must remember your place. You are not king yet." Uther gestured behind him, and a guard stepped forward with a long rod in his hand.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course. His father had called him a child and so he would be punished as he had in his youth. As the door to the cell was unlocked, Arthur stared Uther down. "Do whatever you see fit."

"I intend to."

It had been a long time, but Arthur remembered the routine. He hadn't been struck much as a child, but the times he had stood out in his memory. Looking back, he had understood that he deserved every blow. This was the first time he felt the punishment unjust, but he pulled off his shirt anyway, dropping it on the floor. He turned to one of the cell walls and braced outstretched arms against it, clenching his teeth in anticipation of the blows.

When he was a child, Uther would make the punishments as formal as possible, stating his crimes and the number of strokes he'd receive. This time there was no preamble. The rod cut the air and whipped across his shoulder blades. Arthur sucked in a breath through his teeth, then pinned his lips together, determined not to make another sound. He counted each stroke as it fell, partly curious as to how many his father would give an adult, and partly to keep his mind focused on getting through it without any blubbing.

Arthur lost count at twenty-five. They'd long past his previous experience and he'd begun to wonder how far his father would take this. He stopped worrying about the number, and worried instead if he'd manage to last. He'd stopped clenching his teeth and now breathed in and out, trying to maintain his composure. Time felt like it went on forever, but finally the blows ended. Arthur's arms shook. He didn't move, afraid he'd collapse if he tried.

"Do not ever defy me again," Uther grumbled.

Arthur heard the cell door open and close, locked once again. He listened to the retreating footsteps. He took several deep breaths, and slowly pushed off the wall. He stumbled a few steps over to the pallet and sank down to the floor, elbows resting on his knees.

A guard appeared the next morning, opening the door and declaring he'd been released and his father wanted to see him. Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. So, apparently, being chastised with the rod meant his week long sentence in the dungeon had been commuted. He picked up his shirt and gingerly slipped it back on, wincing as he did so. The soft fabric meant for royalty chafed like burlap against his wounds. He eyed the guard incredulously when his jacket was handed to him, but put it on as well, unwilling to show the pain it caused.

He followed the guard to the battlements where his father stood atop them, staring out at his kingdom. He crossed the rooftop and peered out as well. He had to admit that standing here, he did feel a bit guilty he'd so flagrantly flouted his father's commands. But even so, he knew he'd done what he had to, and he would have done it again, whatever punishment his father inflicted.

Morgana appeared to his left, smiling at him. He guessed she didn't know that Uther had chosen to beat him. He hoped she wouldn't have looked so pleased otherwise.

"Okay. Let the bragging begin. How did you manage it?"

"I'm not sure," Arthur answered honestly, not in the mood to brag. "All I do know is I had help. Someone knew I was in trouble and sent a light to guide the way."

"Who?" Morgana asked.

"I don't know," Arthur said quietly. "But whoever it was, I'm only here because of them."

Morgana smiled. "I'm glad you're back." She walked away leaving him alone with his father.

"Arthur?" Uther spoke.

Arthur hesitantly turned his attention to Uther, unsure of his father's current opinion of him.

"The woman you met in the forest, what did she tell you?" Uther's voice was quieter than usual, and Arthur wondered at the change.

"Not much. She was too busy trying to get me killed." His voice grew quieter as well. "It was strange, though."

Uther turned to look at him and Arthur was surprised to see concern in his eyes. "In what way?"

Time in his cell had provided Arthur with much for thought beyond just his father's injustice. "I was at her mercy. She could have finished me off, but she chose not to. She said it wasn't my destiny to die at her hand."

"You must've been scared."

Arthur pondered briefly if the man speaking to him was the same who'd shown up at his cell the day before. "Had its moments."

Uther's voice became hard. "Those who practice magic know only evil. They despise and seek to destroy goodness wherever they find it. Which is why she wanted you dead. She is evil."

Arthur contemplated his father. "Sounds as if you know her."

"I do," Uther admitted. "To know the heart of one sorcerer is to know them all. You did the right thing. Even though you were disobeying me."

Ah, so this was the apology. A little late for my back, Arthur thought, but he smiled, satisfied his father had seen sense.

Uther laid a hand on his arm. "I'm proud of you, Arthur. Never forget that. "

Arthur nodded, appreciating the unexpected praise, though he wondered if something more than reflection had changed Uther's mind.

Arthur made his way to the physician's quarters. After he'd ridden halfway across the kingdom, almost been killed by a sorceress, been locked up and beaten, he very well was going to see the servant he'd suffered it all for. He entered the room to find Merlin sitting up at a table. Arthur was relieved to see he looked perfectly normal. He nodded to Gaius as he entered, then strode up to the table.

"Still alive, then?" he asked lightly.

Merlin smiled at him. "Oh. Yeah, just about. I understand I have you to thank for that."

Arthur rolled his eyes, uncomfortable with the servant's gratefulness. "Yeah, well, it was nothing. A half decent servant is hard to come by. I was only dropping by to make sure you're alright. I expect you to be back to work tomorrow."

Merlin looked slightly put out. "Oh yeah, yeah of course, er, bright and early."

Arthur, satisfied Merlin had recovered sufficiently, turned to leave.

"Arthur. Thank you," Merlin said sincerely.

Arthur looked back at him. "You, too. Get some rest." He walked out the door and sighed as he traversed the hallway.

He made his way back to his own chambers, glad to be alone at last. He moved over to the dressing screen and stepped behind it. He removed his jacket and carefully pulled his shirt over his head, hissing at the pain the movement caused. He let his shirt fall to the floor and stared at himself in the mirror tacked to a wall. He slowly turned around and looked over his shoulder to assess the damage.

The guard had certainly been thorough. Raised welts, some still inflamed, crisscrossed from his shoulders to his hips. A few had even drawn blood, now dried. Arthur stepped out from behind the screen. He walked over to a dresser and poured some water into a bowl, then submerged a cloth. He awkwardly applied it to his back several times until the coolness of the water had found every wound.

He walked over to his bed and lay down on his stomach, closing his eyes. At least he knew one thing—Merlin wouldn't be in today, and he suspected his father would leave him alone for a time. He could sleep the day away.

"Rise and shine, sire!"

Arthur groaned when he heard Merlin's bright voice chiming from the door. Then he remembered himself and abruptly sat up, turning so his back was to the headboard of his bed. He ran a hand through his hair. "Aren't you still recovering? Who told you to show up today?"

"You," Merlin said jovially, setting down a tray he carried on Arthur's table.

"You're lucky I'm too tired to throw something," Arthur grumbled.

"Cheery as always, I see," Merlin said, walking to the dressing screen and retrieving the shirt and jacket Arthur had abandoned behind them. He tossed them in the laundry basket. "You don't have much on your schedule."

Arthur nodded groggily. His father, still trying to make up for what he'd done to him.

Merlin opened a wardrobe, pulling out a new set of clothes. He stood at the end of the bed. Arthur slipped off the bed, keeping his back turned away from the servant. He swiped the clothes from Merlin's hands.

"Do you need any help?"

"No."

Merlin moved over to Arthur's desk to straighten his papers. Arthur ducked behind the screen. He put on the pants, then bit his lip as he slid the shirt over his head. The welts still stung, but much less than the day before. He walked out from the behind the screen and sat down at the table, spooning breakfast into his mouth.

"I heard you were in the dungeons for a time," Merlin said, making conversation as usual.

Arthur nodded.

"I'm glad Gwen wasn't."

Arthur cocked his head. Oh, right. Gwen had taken the flower to Gaius. He hadn't thought about the fact she might have been punished, too. His father's change of heart must have spared her.

"I really should thank you again, Arthur."

Arthur rolled his eyes and spoke while chewing. "Enough, Merlin. I'd do the same for any subject of Camelot."

"Well, I'm still grateful."

Arthur didn't reply, tearing off a crust of bread.

Merlin left the desk, a parchment in his hand. He approached the table. "So, let's take a look at your schedule." He clapped Arthur on the shoulder and made to sit down, but Arthur gaped and sucked in a breath. "Arthur?"

Arthur swallowed hard and closed his eyes momentarily.

"Are you alright?"

Arthur opened his eyes, cursing the tears that had welled up involuntarily. "I'm fine. What do we have?"

Merlin sank down in his seat, but eyed Arthur suspiciously. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm. Fine."

Arthur looked back at his plate to continue eating, but Merlin shook his head. "You're lying."

Curse his idiot servant! Arthur pulled the parchment out of Merlin's hand to look it over.

"Tell me."

Arthur looked up, annoyed. "Tell you what?"

"What happened to you."

"Nothing happened to me."

"Were you hurt when you looked for the flower?"

"No."

"Then..."

"Stop worrying over me like a mother hen, Merlin. Training was a little rough, yesterday, that's all."

Merlin narrowed his eyes at Arthur. "You didn't train yesterday."

"And how would you know?" Arthur challenged.

"I asked what you'd done yesterday so I'd be informed. I was told you stayed in your chambers. I just thought you were being a lazy prat."

"I was."

Merlin shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I don't care what you think."

Merlin glanced back at the desk. "I forgot something." He stood and took a few steps, but then turned and swiftly lifted up the back of Arthur's shirt. Arthur jumped up from the table at the same time he heard Merlin gasp.

"Merlin, what the..."

"Arthur," Merlin spoke in a hushed whisper.

"I don't need you today," Arthur spoke quickly. "You may go."

"Arthur."

"Go!"

"No." Merlin stared him down, holding his ground.

Arthur let out a frustrated growl and slumped back down in his seat.

"Have...have you had them tended to?"

Arthur slowly shook his head. "I took care of them."

"You should go to Gaius."

"No," Arthur said firmly. He had no wish for the physician to see he'd been beaten like a child.

Merlin walked to the door, opened it, then left.

Arthur sighed, turning back to his breakfast, his cheeks flushed red. At least Merlin had obeyed him for once. He finished his breakfast, then pushed the plate away to read through the schedule. He looked up when the door opened again. Oh, no. Merlin had returned. The servant walked up to the table, a small jar in his hand.

"Take off your shirt."

Arthur shook his head. "Giving me orders again. You're not supposed to do that."

"If you don't, I'll wrestle you until you do."

"Like you'd win," Arthur muttered.

"I will."

Arthur looked up at Merlin's dead serious eyes and decided he didn't really want to get into a match with the servant, not when his back still stung. He sighed and removed his shirt, biting back a groan, but unsuccessfully suppressing a wince.

"Lean over the table," Merlin instructed.

Arthur obeyed, leaning forward with his arms resting on the table. Merlin opened the jar, swiped some ointment onto his fingers, and began to gently rub at the wounds that had bled. Arthur stiffened at first, but gradually found he felt better.

"Your father did this, didn't he?" Merlin asked, sounding disgusted.

"Well, I did disobey him, so..."

"It's wrong."

"Oh, come on, Merlin. It's little more than a bloody nose. I'll be perfectly healed in a week, maybe two."

"My mother never hit me."

"My father never has either. He gets guards to do it."

"Arthur..."

"You weren't raised to be king, were you?"

"It's not right, Arthur."

"He's king. He has every right to punish as he sees fit."

"By whipping you?"

"Yes," Arthur mumbled softly.

"I knew Uther was cruel, but this..."

Arthur stood up from the table and turned on his servant. "Don't talk about my father that way." He walked away to his desk, shuffling the papers. He heard Merlin's footsteps come up behind him. He turned to meet his pitying gaze.

"It's always been this way," Arthur explained. "I mean, he hasn't punished me like this in a long time, but when I was younger...Well, sometimes he did and he always meant well by it. You can't understand. It's different for me. I have to learn the strictness of law." Arthur dropped his gaze, rummaging through the papers again.

"You were whipped because of me."

Arthur didn't look up. "I didn't want to go through the trouble of finding another servant."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"You already said that."

Silence descended. Arthur picked at the papers, then looked up. Merlin still stared at him. He moved back over to the table and his schedule. Merlin followed, standing next to him.

Arthur sighed. "Look, Merlin, you're not the only one who can sacrifice for another. You drank the poison. I took a beating. We're square now. Alright?" He looked up and smiled at his servant, who managed a small smile back. "Now, the schedule."

Merlin picked the parchment up and sat down at the table. Arthur recovered his shirt, slipping it back on.

"Just one more thing," Arthur said.

Merlin looked up. "Yes?"

"If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll dunk you in the well until you cry for mercy."

Merlin grinned. "I won't tell anyone."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

And Arthur knew beyond a shadow of a doubt his loyal servant would keep his word.