Arthur was sick of nobles.

It was a strange epiphany, but it was true. After all, he never would have expected that he would ever feel this way. When Arthur was younger, he used to live it when nobles visited from far-off lands. It gave him a rush of excitement—something to look forward to. Many of them came for tournaments, and Arthur always beat them. Then after, they would shower him with respect, and Arthur, in turn, respected them. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Arthur had come to realize that most nobles that visited were pig-headed, stuck-up, and frankly, they kissed up to him. Arthur understood that to a degree—he was the king, after all—but it still drove him mad. He much preferred Gwen's company, or even Merlin's (though he'd never admit that) any day.

So when the time of Yule came, and Camelot was flooded with nobles and snowfall, Arthur couldn't help but drag his feet a bit.

"Rise and shine!" Merlin's voice sing-songed, slicing through the serenity of the morning like a freshly-sharpened sword.

That was all the warning Arthur received before the curtains flew open and flooded Arthur's chambers with the beautiful cursed morning light. Arthur's hands automatically launched a pillow in Merlin's direction as he turned over, away from the oppressive light.

"Lots to do today, sire," Merlin said, unfazed by the assault. "The great feast is tonight, and you have several meetings with our guests. Come on."

Arthur felt gentle but insistent hands grab his arms before the mattress disappeared under him. Good gods, Merlin was lifting him out of bed. When did Merlin get so strong? Arthur squirmed, successfully dislodging himself from Merlin's grip and sending them both to the floor. Arthur glared right at Merlin, now fully awake. Merlin just smiled brightly from where he now sat on the floor.

"Merlin. Please stop smiling," Arthur huffed, peeling himself off the floor.

"If you say so," Merlin replied, still smiling.

Arthur rolled his eyes, allowing Merlin to drag him over to his wardrobe and dress him. Merlin chattered chipperly, and Arthur half-listened. Even if he hated mornings, Arthur secretly hated them less when Merlin was there.

"Lord Grey told me yesterday that he wants to have a small tournament between his knights and yours while he's here. I told him it was a great idea, but of course his knights don't stand a chance against Camelot's. Oh, and then Lord Galantry—"

"Merlin, please, I can't hear myself think."

"Even if it were quiet, I don't believe you are capable of thinking," Merlin quipped, not missing a beat. "Besides, I am just trying to help. A lot of nobles came here yesterday, and while you were out training, I brought them their things and showed them to their rooms. So, I know how you can best cater to their needs."

Arthur just shook his head.

"Truly, what would I ever do without you, Merlin?" Arthur asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Merlin just smiled again. "Crash and burn."

Arthur's entire day was a constant reminder of how he'd grown to dislike most nobles. Merlin's advice had actually been helpful, and Arthur was able to stay on top of all of their demands, and yet Arthur still felt exhausted by it all. Merlin has quieted as the day progressed, but he remained a steady rock at Arthur's side, and he was grateful for it. Together they roamed the castle, checking on knights, ladies and lords, meeting with a few who wanted to discuss certain agreements or favors.

Arthur had just finished speaking with Lord Galantry about trade routes and distribution when Lord Henry entered the council room. Merlin, who stood to Arthur's left holding a pitcher of wine, tensed a bit at the sound. Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin, but sighed internally along with him.

Here we go again, Arthur thought.

"Lord Henry, welcome. Can I help you with something?" Arthur greeted, hoping he conveyed warmth and not annoyance.

Lord Henry bowed, his long, dark hair cascading along the sides of his face. When he met Arthur's eyes, he smiled warmly, but for some reason, Arthur felt put-off by it.

"Your majesty. Truly, all is well, but I should like to have someone tend to my fire. It is growing rather cold, and my hands are not functioning well enough to tend to it myself, not that I should have to."

For some reason, the lord's eyes kept skirting around Arthur and settling on Merlin. Arthur cleared his throat.

"Of course. I do apologize. Genevieve usually tends to the fires. Perhaps she overlooked—"

"Ah, but your manservant looks quite... capable. And he is here now."

Arthur felt Merlin tense up next to him again. Or maybe that was Arthur, or both of them. It wasn't the first time a noble had shown a certain interest in Merlin, but every time, it has made Arthur inexplicably angry. Arthur didn't like that sickening pit of worry he felt in his stomach whenever someone leered at Merlin. And it was always a Lord.

"Merlin has much to assist me with with the feast coming tonight. I will have him send Genevieve to tend to your fire." Arthur replied, hoping that the excuse wouldn't be questioned.

The Lord's face fell for a moment before he bowed and his smile returned, although it didn't reach his eyes.

"Thank you, sire. I look forward to the feast tonight," he said, eyes sliding back towards Merlin, whose eyes were fixed on the floor.

When Lord Henry had gone, Arthur felt like he could breathe again.

"Have George accompany Genevieve when she goes to Lord Henry's chambers," Arthur instructed as Merlin was moving towards the door.

"Arthur, it's a waste of time to go track them down. Why not just have me tend to—"

"Merlin, just do as I say. When you're done, I need you to help me get ready for the feast. Don't be late. "

Merlin paused, debating on whether or not he should challenge Arthur, but decided against it. It wasn't right, but Merlin was immensely grateful that someone else was being ordered to help Lord Henry. Merlin really didn't like that man.

Merlin burst through the doors to the council room, breaking into a light sprint. He was intent on finding Genevieve and George as quickly as possible, in case Lord Henry gets easily impatient.

As Merlin rounded the corner, he was shocked to find Lord Henry waiting there. A sharp cry escaped from Merlin as the lord snatched Merlin's wrist and pinned him against the stone wall behind him, his other hand covering Merlin's mouth.

"So the rumors are true, then," Henry hissed with a smirk as Merlin struggled under his grip. "And really, who could blame Arthur? If you were my manservant, I would want to keep you all to myself as well."

Cold fear filled Merlin's mind at the vile words thrown at him. He twisted his arm again, but Henry's grip on him was too strong.

"Come now, I need you to rekindle my fire," the lord sneered, starting to drag Merlin down the hallway.

Merlin felt another stab of fear and decided that he would not allow himself to remain helpless. He steeled himself for the consequences and kicked out. The lord cried out in surprise and loosened his hold. Merlin gracefully slipped away, racing down the corridor. His heart was pounding, his stomach turning over and over. Merlin was used to lords behaving cruelly, and even harassing him a bit, but none had ever gone so far.

There was one thing Merlin knew for certain—he was not going to send any servants to Henry's chambers. If need be, Merlin could defend himself against the lord much better than anyone else in the castle. Merlin could handle it, and soon Yuletime would be over and Henry would leave. No one needed to know.

Merlin passed Lord Henry's chambers on his way back to Arthur. The door had been left open, and thorough it, Merlin saw the fire blazing.

"Why are you so quiet?"

Merlin finally looked up.

"Come on. You're supposed to be helping me with this speech."

"I'm concentrating, sire."

That wasn't it. Arthur knew that wasn't it. Merlin always knew the right thing to say, with his annoying wisdom that only came forward when arthur needed it most. No, Arthur could tell that Merlin's mind was elsewhere, and Arthur had an idea as to where.

"Genevieve will be fine. That's why I had George accompany her," Arthur said, trying but failing to catch Merlin's gaze.

"I know," Merlin said quietly.

Arthur wondered if he should say more, but then thought better of it.

"Let's take a break. I need to change for the feast, anyways."

Merlin nodded, springing forward to gather up Arthur's formal ensemble. As Merlin helped Arthur get dressed, Arthur's eyes caught on Merlin's right arm as he lifted it and the sleeve fell back.

"Merlin, what's that?"

"What's what, sire?"

"Are those bruises?" Arthur asked, taking Merlin's arm lightly but firmly.

Rage filled Arthur's chest as he inspected the purple marks on Merlin's wrist. Gods, they looked like a handprint. Had someone—?

"Oh, it's nothing, Arthur. Really. You know how clumsy I can be," Merlin said, eyes failing to meet Arthur's.

"Merlin. Did someone do this to you? You can tell me."

"No. I didn't even notice they were there. I bruise easily… I must've accidentally done it to myself."

Arthur wanted to believe him, but something felt so wrong. But Merlin had turned away, smile plastered on and claiming that he finally had an idea for the speech.

Fine, Arthur thought. I'll just have to keep you out of trouble myself.

Merlin was determined not to enjoy himself at the feast. However, the dining hall looked gorgeous, filled with beautiful decorations and trays of flourishing fruit and hearty meat sent delightful smells into the air. Merlin couldn't help but smile as he topped off the knight's drinks, especially since Gwaine was so determined to get Merlin in on their conversation.

"Merlin, Leon tells me he's never had a drink with you at the tavern. I say, we should all head down there later to continue the celebrations," Gwaine suggested loudly, eyebrow waggling.

"A fantastic feast in the king's court isn't a good enough celebration for you, is it, Gwaine?" Merlin teased as he refilled Leon's goblet.

Gwaine just shook his head. "No, mate. Y'see, there's no mead, and you don't get to drink."

Although Merlin could tell Gwaine was a bit tipsy from the wine already, he felt touched that his friend wanted to celebrate with him.

"I think Gwaine just wants to get you drunk," Percival said, giving Gwaine a nudge.

Merlin laughed. "I don't believe any of you would like to see that."

"Oh, come now, Merlin. Have a little fun, will you?" Elyan jabbed, dark eyes glinting mischievously over his goblet.

"Fine. But none of you are going to get me drunk."

Merlin had way too much on his mind to let himself go like that, but that didn't mean he couldn't spend time with his friends. Plus, Merlin didn't want to disappoint Gwaine tonight. It was a party, after all. Merlin took a step back from the knights, still holding the pitcher of wine to his chest.

He settled for simply observing the feast: Gaius was speaking with Geoffrey, probably about some form of research they were partaking in. Arthur was caught up in a conversation with Lord Grey and Lady Belfrey, and Guinevere was watching the exchange fondly. Every so often, Arthur would lock eyes with her and smile softly, and her face would somehow brighten even more. The knights suddenly roared with laughter at some shared joke, and Merlin smiled to himself. How lucky he felt to be surrounded by so many wonderful people.

The conversations began to lull and Merlin turned to look back at Arthur, who was now standing. He began speech that Merlin had mostly written all of, since the royal dollop-head was quite frankly a horrible writer. It was a good speech, if Merlin did say so himself, and the guests seemed to think so too. Everyone stood and applauded Arthur as the speech ended, and soon the knights were leading Merlin out of the dining hall and down to the tavern.

It seemed that quite a few of Arthur's guests had the same idea. The tavern was full to the brim and then some-a mixture of folk from the lower town and nobles from the feast. Even Arthur had now joined their group, and now Merlin was laughing hysterically at Gwaine's drunken gambling with the king.

"Gwaine, you're out of your head. You should really withdraw. I'm not even sure you can even pay what you already owe me."

"No, no, no. A knight never draws from a fight," Gwaine slurred stubbornly.

Merlin almost felt bad for Arthur. He doesn't know Gwaine like Merlin does, and Gwaine was quite obviously making a show of his drunkenness to throw Arthur off. In the next round, Merlin had a feeling that Gwaine would completely change his demeanor and come out as the winner, and possibly hurting Arthur's pride more than it could bounce back from. It was all incredibly entertaining, so Merlin let it play out.

"More mead for everyone!" A voice called out, and the entire tavern erupted into screams of triumph and joy.

Mary began passing out pints to everyone, even Merlin, who she knew rarely ever drank. Merlin sighed and accepted it, knowing that whoever had paid for the round of drinks might take offense. The next round of the dice game began and Merlin watched gleefully as Arthur walked into the trap that Gwaine had set up for him. Soon the alcohol had loosened Merlin up even more, until he was crying of laughter at Arthur's looks of disapproval. The knights were in uproar all around him, and Merlin didn't think he had ever laughed so hard.

It was only when Merlin had reached the halfway point in his drink that things started to feel off. The voices filling the tavern seemed to grow in volume and blend together and suddenly every sound hurt Merlin's head. His vision toppled and it became harder to stand. Was he really that drunk? No, that wasn't possible… He hadn't even finished his pint. Merlin's mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. He turned back towards the bar, intent on asking Mary for some water, before someone grabbed hold of his arm.

Merlin couldn't look up at whoever it was because the room was spinning and he thought he might be sick and so he watched his own feet be led away from the bar, away from his friends and outside into the night. Whoever held Merlin upright was walking at a brisk pace and Merlin could barely keep up, could barely see, could barely breathe-

"You have proved yourself quite difficult to get alone, hm? I must say I have enjoyed our little game. I love it when they fight back."

Merlin froze, his feet skidding to a clumsy stop. No, not that voice please no-

"But the fighting is over now. I grew tired of simply watching your pretty face from afar and I just had to have you for myself."

Merlin's stomach clenched dangerously as his tunneling vision turned upwards, right into the face of Lord Henry, who was the only thing holding Merlin upright.

It took a few tries before Merlin's mind supplied the right words, "y-you… drugg'd me…"

"I had to. You were too tempting not to take. And when you fought me off like that, I knew I'd have to catch you off-guard."

Merlin groaned, cursing his own foolishness. The one night he actually had a drink… Merlin twisted suddenly, trying to wrench himself from the lord's grip. Henry only tightened his grasp, and Merlin cried out. Merlin was slammed against a wall again, this time it jarred his ribs and drove the air from his lungs. Henry was suddenly too close to Merlin, hissing in his ear.

"Don't fight me this time. I found it amusing once, but I will not be so merciful tonight."

Too close too close too close, Merlin's mind screamed at him.

Merlin reached for his magic to get the vile man off him, but he couldn't seem to grasp it. Perhaps the drug was subduing it somehow? Or perhaps Merlin's brain just simply couldn't focus. Whatever the case, Merlin had never felt so helpless in his life. His stomach roiled with disgust as the lord ripped his neckerchief off him and cast it to the ground, showering his exposed neck with unwanted kisses. Merlin tried to squirm away, to call for help, but Henry had a death-like grip on him and pinned him to the wall, and Merlin could only whisper.

"Stop it… stop…"

Henry merely laughed, fingers hooking on the edge of Merlin's trousers.

"Why would I stop when I've only just begun?"