Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe.

Author's Note: First two-shot is up to bat! I thought it best to separate out this particular vignette as its two parts take place two days apart. Episode 2x07 The Witchfinder had so much potential, I wanted to do it justice. I promise I will have the second chapter up soon—for now, though, please enjoy!

Reviewers: All 30 of you, thank you!

Summary: Merlin was certainly no wilting flower, but even lady hawks need protection now and then. Arthur just happened to be in a position to give it...

Rating: T

"Speech"

Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)

.:A Man's Measure:.

By Sentimental Star

IV: Protecting a Lady Hawk (Part 1)

As a general rule, royalty and nobility alike cared little for servants and commoners in a capacity as anything other than one who serves. Until Merlin had intervened with Arthur's life, Camelot's Crown Prince believed much the same.

(He could not say with certainty that he was grateful to be proven wrong; certainly not to his manservant. As always, though, there was just something about Merlin, and he had not returned to that way of thinking since.)

After acknowledging as much, to promise Gaius his protection for Merlin was among the easiest and most natural vows he had ever made. Especially when Gaius himself was incapable of providing it.

(It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Arthur wanted to do it):

In later years, Arthur rather suspected he might shake his head over the scene currently playing out in front of him—and his inability to absolve it.

As Merlin once more tearfully embraced Gaius (really, his manservant could be such a girl), Arthur shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, actively not-listening to their conversation and uneasily eyeing the archway behind him.

Reluctantly, he cleared his throat, "Merlin…" he began, cognizant of the restless shifting of the guards nearby, and received a ferocious glare for all his trouble.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur warned, "Merlin."

And winced, as Merlin's expression crumpled. The younger man turned back to their mentor, "Gaius," his manservant's voice choked on the plea.

Arthur grimaced impatiently, and immediately felt wretched for it, but they really did need to leave. Under no circumstances did Arthur want to expose Merlin to Aredian when he was this vulnerable, and both Aredian and his father would surely be here soon.

Gaius must have seen his expression, because he smiled sadly and bent to whisper something in Merlin's ear, before firmly stepping back and releasing him with a gentle push in Arthur's direction.

Arthur took that as his cue to step forward and pull Merlin away from the elderly physician.

He tried not to be hurt when Merlin roughly shrugged off his hands and all but fled the dungeon.

Cursing under his breath and praying Aredian was well away from here, Arthur hurriedly slammed the cell door shut and locked it.

He had just turned to bolt after Merlin when a familiarly wrinkled hand reached through the bars and gently grabbed his elbow, "Take care of him, Arthur."

Arthur suddenly had trouble focusing on Gaius's face. He dropped his eyes to the physician's hand instead and swallowed thickly, trying to ignore how all the colors around him blurred together. He wet his lips, "You never had to ask," whispered. Blinking his surroundings back into focus, he looked up and locked his gaze fiercely with the dear, tired blue-green eyes watching him intently, "Really, you never did. You could have asked anything of me, Gaius, anything at all, and I would have answered the same. I…I don't know how to stop Aredian, but I….maybe I can talk to my father…"

Gaius's smile turned mostly humorless, "You and I both know your father is intolerant of magic in all its forms, Your Highness."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Arthur nodded heavily.

Gaius's hand tightened, his hold comforting, "I am an old man, Arthur. I have lived my life as best as I can, and I can now say that it had some meaning. Do not hurt your right to the crown by attempting to help me."

"Gaius…" Arthur's throat closed. Even with his beloved mentor, Arthur could not ask, What about Merlin?

Gaius knew what he intended to say regardless. A true smile touched the elderly physician's lips, "Happily, he has you. You will find, Arthur, that there is very little he won't do for you."

Arthur had not been able to refute Gaius. He knew it all too well. In the end, he had only been able to nod and (not) rush after Merlin.

At least, he intended to (not) rush after Merlin, but his manservant had since fled the-gods-knew-where.

"It would be just my luck if the fool somehow got himself accused again," Arthur muttered, determinedly not contemplating what that might mean for his rather (at the moment) fragile nerves.

The memory of Merlin's absence during the whole Catrina diabolical was never far from his heart, after all. Arthur could readily admit (even if only to himself) that he would be unable to withstand a second absence like that again.

(And when had Merlin become almost as important as his own father?)

Perhaps because his thoughts revolved around Merlin to a worrying degree, it should not have startled him as much as it did when he discovered his feet (without his blessing) had taken him to said manservant's (and their mentor's) chambers.

Only, they did not look much like chambers anymore. They looked like a debris field after battle: potion bottles shattered on flagstones, books with their pages ripped out and scattered across the floor, tables overturned and their contents tossed to the ground, and in the midst of it all—oh, gods, was his heart supposed to hurt this much?—in the midst of it all, on his knees, was his missing manservant.

Arthur barely recognized his voice as his own as he choked out, "Mer…Merlin!"

The prince had barely processed his legs' movement before he abruptly found himself kneeling knee to knee with the younger man.

For once, he did not try to control the fierce protective instinct that rose in his gut, reaching out with one hand to gently cup the back of Merlin's skull.

Merlin, who had been gazing vacantly out over the shambles of the life he and Gaius had built, immediately snapped his attention to the pained countenance of his prince: "I am so sorry, Merlin," Arthur murmured achingly. "I am so, so sorry."

Gods above and below, but Merlin had to be the strongest man he'd ever met (not that he would ever admit that to the man in question), as from the depths of his soul, said manservant summoned forth a shaky smile, "I must have hit my head on the way in, because there is no other explanation for why Arthur Pendragon just apologized to little ol' me."

It would have earned Merlin a ferocious scowl, had his composure not betrayed him: the smile wavered, cracked, and a lonely flush of tears wended their way down his cheek.

Almost straightaway, Arthur grabbed the sleeve of his free hand and brusquely scrubbed it across Merlin's wet face, "Commit it to memory," he muttered gruffly, "because you will not be hearing it again."

(Actually, he probably would, but Arthur, despite what he liked to claim, was no omniscient.)

Gently bracing his thumbs against Merlin's damp cheeks, Camelot's Crown Prince seriously met his manservant's eyes, "I'll talk to my father, Merlin. I…can't promise it will work—in fact, it probably won't—but…" Arthur took a deep breath, "Gaius deserves better than this. I…I have to try, but I don't-"

Shaking his head, Merlin bowed it and shut his eyes, reaching up to tightly grip Arthur's hands. For a moment, the prince feared he would rip them away, but the moment passed and Arthur found their fingers had actually interwoven in place against Merlin's cheeks.

As long as he lived, Arthur would never admit that he cried a little, too, that day.

End Protecting a Lady Hawk (CH.1)