Title: Words which aren't names
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin preslash
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1000 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to the BBC.
Spoilers: Set sometime post 1.02, but 1.01 would cover you, really.
Summary: Arthur hears the shouting from across the courtyard. When he gets close enough, he can pick out the voice – Merlin.
AN: Originally posted on LJ, so you may have seen it already!

Arthur hears the shouting from across the courtyard. He is hunting down his errant manservant, due to meet him on the practice field nearly half an hour ago. The clamour is a distraction, but the castle is always loud, so he doesn't know why he finds himself following the noise.

When he gets close enough, he can pick out the voice – Merlin. Merlin yelps when a heavy boot catches him in the stomach, and curls in, breathing hard. He unfolds, and grins up at his assailants. "My master's not going to be happy, you know."

Arthur stops.

Merlin doesn't shut up, but then he never does. Arthur's learnt this even after such a short time in his company. Merlin glares at them – ragged bunch of palace guards, clearly in need of more strenuous duty – and spits out a mouthful of blood. He repeats himself, "My master, you know, the prince, he's probably looking for me. He gets kind of angry when I don't show up on time."

Arthur wonders at how great the difference is in Merlin calling him 'sire' to his face, always slightly mocking, and the way he says 'my master' to these others, quite plain. Like a wooden shield, or a barricade against the world.

Merlin is still laughing, and Arthur doesn't know if it's a touch of hysteria, or if he has noticed that Arthur is now but three paces away. Merlin coughs, "My master- My master is going to-"

Arthur makes his entrance. "Merlin. There you are." He puts his hand to his sword hilt, smirking when the guards blanch and scurry backwards. "I believe I instructed you to come straight back."

Merlin climbs back onto his feet. "I was delayed. Sire." And there's that word again, with just an edge of bite in it. Merlin doesn't know how to be an obedient servant. He's something quite different. Arthur is only just beginning to see the value in that.

Arthur nods. "I see." He unsheathes his sword, swinging the flat of the blade like a club, knocking the others flat on their backs one by one. Arthur touches the tip of his sword to the ringleader's neck. He turns to Merlin. "Run and get me some real guards. My father will want to know about this."

Merlin runs.

*

Having seen the miscreants into the company of the prison guards, Arthur looks for his manservant. When he cannot find Merlin, he climbs the stairs to Gaius's chambers. He hears Merlin hissing in pain, and hurries his movement to the doorway. Through the gap, he sees Gaius tending to Merlin's injuries, and waits.

Merlin cranes his neck to look back at Gaius. "I couldn't."

"You were prevented?"

"No, it's just that… there were a lot of them. Even if I had managed to get them all down, someone would have seen. And that really wouldn't have ended well for any of us. Not you, certainly not me. Even Arthur probably would have got it, prince or not."

"And so you waited for rescue."

Merlin's mouth twists. "You don't need to make it sound like that! It's not that I couldn't get myself out of it. I just… chose not to."

"I'm simply surprised. You showed more sense than I thought you were capable of." Gaius rubs something foul-smelling into Merlin's shoulder, shaking his head at the bruises.

Merlin screws up his face in pain. "Yes. Well."

"So you waited for Arthur."

"Yes. Sort of. Yes."

"And he came."

"Yes. Unless he's asleep, I'm generally to be in shouting distance. I thought he would notice."

"And he did."

"Yes."

There's more to this conversation than Arthur can see. He opens the door. The pair of them silence so quickly that Arthur's suspicions are confirmed, but he can't demand answers without admitting that he's a royal heir who listens at doorways.

Merlin looks as though he came off much the worse in a duel. His chest is covered in splotches of dark bruising, his lip is split, and there is blood matted in his hair above his left temple. Arthur, of course, has been injured much worse than this, but it looks more damning on Merlin. Merlin is (not weak, not cowardly, Arthur reminds himself) smaller, leanly muscled under his pale skin. He looks like a boy still. In some ways, at least.

Arthur nods at Gaius. "Is he badly injured?"

Gaius frowns. "Worse than the damage you gave him, but not by much."

Arthur looks at Merlin. "You can resume your duties tomorrow then."

Merlin's eyes drop to his lap. "Sire."

"And Merlin?"

Merlin looks up again, meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Next time," Arthur says, "Feel free to be a little more obvious about it. I've heard you use my name often enough, though you do seem to think I can't hear you." Merlin blushes. Arthur continues, "So use it if you need, I give you leave. Shout for me - I'll come and find you."

He passes Merlin the damp cloth, gesturing at the blood on his forehead. When Merlin takes it from him, smiling, their fingers brush, and it is like a spark jumping between them.

Arthur snatches his hand back, but Merlin has not noticed. He is still smiling, smaller now, and more sincere. "Thank you. Sire."

"Yes. Good. So I'll-"

"The morning."

"Yes. Hand to hand training. You need it, if you will keep rescuing damsels in distress."

"Well, really, sire, it ought to be your job. But as you were away, I thought I should step in."

"That's the trouble with you, Merlin. You're always stepping right into trouble."

Merlin shrugs, unrepentant, but winces at the pull of bruised skin. Arthur frowns, and perhaps it is that which tugs Merlin's lips into such a broad grin. "Well then, I count on my master to pull me out of it again."

"You shouldn't," Arthur says, but supposes his nodding confuses the issue. "Tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow," Arthur promises. "I'll try not to be waylaid this time. And if I am-"

"Yell."

FIN