Merlin's POV:

I heard him shouting at me, heard him telling me how useless I was, but not with my ears, with my heart. Every day he told me that I was worthless, that I didn't deserve to be alive. I could try to ignore that, try hard, and it worked. Until the day he started to hit me. At first it was just a light smack on the cheek, hard enough to hurt and to be red for a while, but not to bruise. Then he advanced to punching me, kicking me in the ribs. Those bruised, and hurt so badly. It was all I could do not to cry out in pain, to keep silent so no one else would know. I could stand that, as well. As long as I was with Arthur, there to protect him, I could stand a bit of pain. Then he brought out his knife, and started to cut me. First just a few cuts on my torso, then my upper arms, enough to scar and bleed but not to kill me. Lastly, a line across my cheek, deep and soaking my shirt with red. After he left, I pressed my hand to my cheek, only to have it come away stained crimson. I take my neckerchief and wrap it around my head so that it's pressed tightly against my cheek. It looks stupid, but I could care less. As I leave to go get Arthur's breakfast, all I'm hoping is that Arthur won't ask questions.

"Merlin, why the bloody hell is your neckerchief around your head?" Arthur inquired, looking irritated.

"No reason, Sire." I stutter out.

"Then remove it." Arthur replies. I hesitate, at which point Arthur yells at me to remove it. I flinch at the tone of his voice, and immediately hopes he didn't notice. He'll be suspicious enough when he sees my face. I slowly remove it, keeping my face turned away from Arthur.

"I'm sorry, Sire." I whisper.

"Look at me, Merlin." Arthur commands. I hesitantly do so, not wanting to meet his gaze. I do, and his eyes search my face, finally landing on the cut.

"Sire, I can explain, really." I start to say.

"What happened to you?" Arthur inquired.

"I fell down this morning, and I was holding a knife." I lied.

"Merlin, be more careful." Arthur said, coming over and clapping me on the back. I tense and clench my teeth in pain, hoping all the while he doesn't notice.

"What's wrong, Merlin?" Arthur asked, of course he noticed.

"Nothing, Arthur- I mean, Sire." I say.

"Take off your shirt." Arthur commands, his brow furrowed.

"Sire, please." I beg.

"Just take it off, Merlin." Arthur wearily says. I gingerly peel off my shirt, dropping it to the ground. My back is facing Arthur, and I know he can see the few bruises there, but the worst is hidden from him.

"Sire, can't I just go back to work?" I plead.

"Turn around, Merlin." Arthur orders.

"Arthur, please. Please, don't." I whisper.

"Merlin, turn around." Arthur repeats himself, irritation in his voice. I instinctively flinch back; this was how it started with him. I slowly turn around, and squeeze my eyes shut. I can hear Arthur's gasp of shock clearly, and start to back away.

"Sire, I can explain." I softly say.

"Who did this to you, Merlin?" Arthur inquired.

"No one, Sire." I reply.

"Merlin, tell me the truth." Arthur whispers.

"The head servant, James." I softly say.