Warnings: There is blood and violence based on medieval corporal punishment, more specifically flogging. I don't think it is particularly graphic, but if you are squeamish about that just be prepared.

A/N: This is my first foray into Merlin fanfiction. I'm not too far in as of yet, having just finished S2 recently, but I have been rather busy. This can take place pretty much any time between S1 and S3, I think, so there are no real spoilers for anything there. Anyway, I hope you all like it! *runs and hides*

To your knowledge, Merlin has been flogged once. Only once… as after that first time it happened, you vowed it would be the last.

Once upon a time, you took a certain pleasure from watching a lawbreaker receive the punishment he deserved. Your father referred to it as a form of purification, and you couldn't agree more. You've witnessed countless floggings in your life, ever since your father decided you were old enough to watch at eight years of age. You would stand with him and observe the punishment from the walls of Camelot. Flogging was simply a part of the justice system.

Then, your servant (friend) Merlin went and got himself caught stealing food from the royal kitchens and was brought before your father. You assumed he would be thrown in the stocks for the umpteenth time since arriving in Camelot, as he was probably stealing it for someone else. Merlin was overly nice in that way. In this case especially, he was too kind for his own good. He refused to admit he was taking it for another, insisting he took it for himself because he was hungry. At this point, the king didn't even seem angry, just frustrated and possibly disappointed. How many times did Merlin have to be punished for something stupid? So the king announced that the servant boy would receive fifteen lashes tomorrow morning after spending a night in the dungeon. The color drained out of Merlin's pale face, his blue eyes wide with fear.

"Father, please, don't you think that's a bit harsh? Merlin does stupid things all the time, but-"

"Exactly! The boy doesn't learn from the stocks or the dungeon, so perhaps the whip will teach him a lesson," Uther explained calmly, "I am sorry, Arthur, but it's the only way."

Gwen was furious, of course, begging you to stop it from happening, but your father's mind was made up. Merlin would have to suffer the consequences for his actions, however distasteful you thought it to be. Later that night, you went down to see him. He looked pitifully miserable in the small cell, curled up on the straw covered floor, back pressed to the stone wall. You cleared your throat awkwardly, and your heart clenched in your chest to see how eagerly Merlin got to his feet and approached you, that stupid wide grin on his face.

"Arthur, it's good to see you!" he said happily; oh, how it hurt.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," you blurted out.

"Sorry? For what?"

"For wha-? Merlin, what do you think?"

"But you didn't do anything."

"Exactly! I did nothing to help you!" you said loudly.

Merlin's eyebrows pulled together slightly, giving him the look of a sad puppy.

"I barely tried," you continued, "I said one thing to my father and then just gave up when he confronted me. I should have done more for you."

"No, stop worrying. I'll be fine. Besides, there was nothing you could do. I've been stupid anyway. I probably… probably deserve it."

Merlin, however, looked suddenly terrified again. You tried to take his mind off the next morning by asking, "So who were you stealing the food for? It wasn't for yourself, so don't lie to me. Father may believe it, but I know you better."

"It was for another servant," Merlin explained softly, "Her father is old and barely able to work, and her family is on the brink of starvation. I told her to ask you or Gaius to speak to Uther, but she was too afraid. Then, I told her to try and see if the kitchen would give her any scraps, but was too scared to do that, too. So… I went myself to get food for her and her family. And now… well… now I'm here… waiting to be flogged."

You ducked your head, not wanting to look at him. You felt so bad for him. Suddenly, after seeing countless men being whipped and flogged, you wanted to be far away tomorrow. You didn't want to see your servant's pain. Merlin was more than a mere servant. He was a good man, and an even better friend. He was never afraid to accompany you on dangerous missions, and he was the most loyal companion you'd ever known.

"Will you be there tomorrow, Arthur?" the other boy asked quietly.

His pale eyes were wide and fearful.

"Do you want me there?"

The raven-haired boy nodded, his hands clutching the bars so hard his knuckles were white.

"Then I will be there for you, right in the square. I promise."

Merlin still looked utterly terrified, and you could think of no words to soothe him.

"Would you like me to fetch Gaius?" you asked, knowing that they cared for each other like family.

His voice seeming to fail him, the servant simply nodded again. You whispered, "It'll be alright, Merlin," and turned to go, letting your fingers brush over his as you left. You made your way to Gaius' chambers quickly. His emotions were hard to read.

"Gaius, Merlin wants to see you. I've just come from him."

"How is he, Arthur?" the old physician asked.

"He's scared," you answer simply, "Terrified, and he has every right to be. I know he's been clapped in the stocks and tossed in the dungeon, but he's never been hurt."

"Merlin will be fine. He's always stronger than we think, and I'll take care of him after… after his ordeal is over. He'll be back at your side in no time."

With that, Gaius swept out of the room to go down to see Merlin, leaving you alone. You slowly walked back to your own quarters and tried to get some rest, but sleep did not come easy. You were worried for Merlin, moreso than you'd ever been for anyone.

When did this happen? When exactly did this clumsy, stupid servant worm his way into your heart as one of your closest companions? As someone you cared about above nearly all others? You've saved each other countless times, from the first time you met and he saved your life and became your servant… when he allowed himself to be poisoned and you risked your life for his. You sometimes thought you were meant for each other in some strange way, as if Fate weaved her web in such a way that you two would always come together. It was strange that a prince should feel so strongly for his servant, but you found you could not bring yourself to care.

With little sleep and no rest, you found yourself in the square the next morning with much of Camelot, many of whom knew Merlin well and liked him. You stood at the front of the crowd near to the post, waiting for Merlin. You wanted him to know you were there, like you promised… as he wished you to be. Your stomach churns as Merlin is brought out to the post for his punishment. The poor boy was pale as milk, his eyes wide and terrified with dark shadows under them. Gwen stood by with tears in her eyes, and Gaius looked sad and withdrawn. You were unfocused as the lictor announced Merlin's 'crime' and the punishment he would receive for committing it. Even your father looked unhappy about it. You forced yourself to watch as they stripped him of his shirt and tied his hands above his head.

To his credit, Merlin was quiet for the first four lashes; you likely flinched more than he did. The fifth pulled a sound from the boy's lips. Each one after that ripped more noise from his throat. On the tenth, he screamed. After that, he only sobbed, his body shaking from crying and pain. You willed your own tears back, remembering your own advice: No man is worth your tears. You needed to be strong.

So when the lictor raised the whip for one more blow after the fifteen were administered, you bellowed, "Stop!" and stepped forward.

"Sire, I-"

"That is enough!" you continued, "The punishment was already meted out as ordered. Do not overstep your bounds. You leave the boy alone."

You made sure to square off your shoulders and be as authoritative as possible. The people were silent. The lictor only hesitated another moment before dropping the whip. You and Gaius both approached Merlin. His face was contorted in pain, tears streaming from his eyes. His back was a maze of lacerations and drenched in blood, and his breathing was shallow and choked. Carefully, you cut the binds around his wrists and lower his arms, causing him to whimper as the injured flesh and muscle moved. Gaius gently shushed him.

"We need to get him to my chambers," the physician whispered.

"Of course," you murmured, "I'll carry him. I just don't…"

"He'll be in pain no matter what you do. Just try your best not to injure him more."

You tried to keep from hurting him, only taking his arm to walk him into the castle. As Gaius had said, Merlin was stronger than he looked. He managed to make it inside before he legs buckled beneath him.

"I can't… I c-can't, Ar-Arthur…" he panted.

"I know," you replied, paused, continued, "Here, I'll carry you. I don't mean to hurt you, but it is necessary. You'll be alright soon."

It's not easy to gently throw someone over your shoulder, but you did your best; it still pulled another whimper from the servant. Gaius' chambers had never felt so far away.

Once there, you made sure to avoid touching his back as you slipped him off your shoulder and onto his feet. You kept a tight grip on his arm, trying to keep him upright until you could lay him down on his stomach on the cot. Gaius was not far behind. He immediately began putting together a thick paste to cover Merlin's torn back, moving from one side of the room to the other. You simply sat at Merlin's side, wishing you could do more for him, listening as he choked down his sobs.

"Merlin… if you… umm…" you stammered, unsure of what to say, "if you need to – uh – cry… I promise you I will not mock you for it. You have suffered enough, I think. Do not hold back."

It was as if a flood had been unleashed. Loud, harsh, heart-wrenching sobs filled the small room. The thin, pale, bloodied body shook on the cot, wracking the boy's form. Gaius moved to comfort him, but you held up a hand to stop him, citing his need to finish Merlin's medicine. You then rested that hand on the raven hair, stroking it soothingly. It pained you to feel him flinch at your touch. A few minutes later, Gaius approached again, this time with a damp cloth and a bucket of warm water, saying, "Here, I need you to clean some of the blood off his back."

You were as gentle as possible, not wanting to aggravate his wounds or cause him pain, but he continued to whimper and cry. Your poor Merlin…

You stood back only for Gaius to apply the medicinal salve, meant to heal and prevent infection, then took up your seat beside him once more. The old physician handed you a bottle, telling you to have Merlin drink it all so he could sleep through the worst of the pain.

"Here, Gaius wants you to drink this so you can sleep… c'mere…"

You carefully helped him swallow the potion down. His face shone with sweat and tears, was contorted with pain, his body shivering violently from all that plus a chill. He was utterly wretched. It was almost painful to look at him. You ducked your head, still trying to hide your tears. Still, even after all that he had been through that day, Merlin mumbled, "I'm okay, Arthur… th-thank you…"

"For what?"

"You-you're a… a good friend… I'm… sure you'll be a… a great king… one… one…"

With his face now smooth in dreamless, painless sleep, you murmured in his ear, "If being a great king means never allowing this to happen to you again, then yes. I'm sure I will be, Merlin," running your hand through his damp hair. If you sat there beside him the whole day, hand in his while he slept, still stroking his hair, well, he was asleep and wouldn't know, and Gaius wouldn't tell if he saw.

You cannot say your father was terribly happy with all the time you spent in Gaius' chambers with Merlin while he healed, but you were happy during those weeks… and that is really all that mattered in the end.

A/N 2: I used the word 'lictor' for the person doing the flogging because I was unsure of who would have actually done it. Did they have a flogger, and that was all he did? Did they have the executioner do it? I honestly don't know, but from the research I did, a lictor was a Roman official who had the power to administer floggings among other duties, and I was rather fond of the word, so that was the one I used. If anyone has the proper term, please let me know :) Also, I love constructive criticism. *hinthint*