A / N: This was not supposed to be published since I started writing it for fun and it was in my original language (italian), but it turned out liking it, so I decided to translate and post it. I apologize for any errors. Also, I'm terrible with titles, so don't mind it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

A Matter Of Looks

The visiting knights would be arriving shortly to take part in an important tournament organized by the kingdom. Merlin quivered with anticipation but also with the tension that such an event entailed.

"The tournament to be held in a few days hosts knights belonging to important noble families, and it is the perfect opportunity to maintain cordial relations and try to forge alliances with them," Arthur had explained that morning as Merlin helped him dress. "I know you've never been particularly efficient, Merlin, but I expect you to behave, or at least pretend to behave, like a perfect servant these days and not offend our guests with your insolence."

After that speech, Merlin promised to himself to be as efficient as possible and to make sure the knights were satisfied with the treatment they received; he also didn't want to be a reason for dishonor to Arthur with some unprejudiced attitude, so he was determined to behave in a polite and respectful manner all the time.

When the knights arrived, Arthur greeted them courteously and thanked them for their presence: his voice clearly expressed his determination to make the most of the event for the kingdom, and this strengthened Merlin in his resolve to be on his best behavior.

He soon discovered that this would not prove easy.

Most of the knights barely noticed him or merely glared at him; some of them, on the other hand, looked at him mockingly, often snickering when he passed by or amused themselves by giving him too much work to do.

But there was one knight in particular - Sir Herald - who made Merlin agitated. He was always watching him insistently from afar, his eyes lingering on him in a piercing and scrutinizing way, and every time Merlin found that gaze on himself he felt his heart speed up unpleasantly. Moreover, there was something about his elusive demeanor, his polite but detached tone, his cordial smile that never reached his eyes, that made Merlin extremely suspicious.

He had told Arthur, had revealed to him the unpleasant feeling he had when in Sir Herald's presence and how he did not trust him, but Arthur had dismissed his concerns as one of Merlin's absurd 'bad feelings'.

Soon those glances became more frequent and made Merlin more and more anxious and restless: he felt an unpleasant discomfort tingling under his skin the moment Sir Herald's deep, dark eyes rested on him, and when that night the knight slowly and carefully slid his gaze over his body, Merlin felt his stomach tighten horribly.

He began to avoid him, to try not to be alone with him, and to quickly change paths when he came upon him in the corridors. He knew Arthur valued him for his swordsmanship - he himself had told him one night that Sir Herald would make an excellent knight in Camelot's ranks - and, true to his promise, he did not want to risk ruining possible partnerships and alliances.

However, the stress he had accumulated over the last few days trying to avoid Sir Herald and forcibly ignoring any glance at him, as well as disentangling himself from the various tasks assigned to him on a daily basis, made him nervous and disquiet.

In particular, that morning Merlin woke up with an unpleasant feeling that made him more distracted and clumsy than usual. That bad feeling accompanied him throughout the day, a vice in his stomach that made him feel tense and irritable, and it proved to be well-founded when he saw Arthur returning from the afternoon training session with the knights in the company of Sir Herald.

"Merlin," Arthur called beckoning him when he saw him in the halls.

Merlin forced himself to ignore that damn feeling and walked over to do his duty. "What can I help you with, sire?"

"To be honest, Merlin," Arthur began, "I would like you to take care of Sir Herald for tonight".

Merlin opened his eyes wide and felt a weight sink into his stomach. "But... sire, who will be in charge of assisting you?" he asked, straining to be polite and hide the anxiety that threatened to seep into his voice.

"Don't worry about that, I can find other competent servants to do it," Arthur said with a hint of irony.

Merlin wanted to cry in frustration. He clenched his teeth instead, and forced himself to bow his head. "As you wish, sire," he said softly, and refused to look up as he followed Sir Herald into his chambers.

Once the door closed behind him, Merlin began to feel a little agitated. "What can I do for you?" he asked the knight nervously wringing his hands.

Sir Herald approached him looking at him, and Merlin instinctively looked away.

"Relax," the knight said, placing a hand on his shoulder in what was supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but for some reason Merlin felt his nervousness rising and suppressed the instinct to evade the touch. He nodded briefly, hoping to end the contact as soon as possible.

He felt Sir Herald's gaze linger heavily on him, then the knight's hand moved to his chin, causing him to wince and lift his head. Sir Herald's eyes scanned his figure so carefully and intensely that Merlin felt naked and exposed before him, and the negative feeling in his chest intensified.

"Merlin," the knight said slowly, weighing the name on his tongue before letting it go, and Merlin hated the way it was pronounced. "I can understand why Arthur chose you as his personal servant."

It was then that Merlin began to feel a vague sense of alarm as the knight's smile turned mocking and his eyes moved lasciviously over him.

"What other services do you offer him? I'm sure you entertain him in many ways," Sir Herald continued as he slowly advanced until he pushed him against the wall. Merlin could not move or think properly, he could hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears, his head was spinning and everything was horribly wrong.

He became paralyzed when Sir Herald ran a finger along his lower lip and leaned toward him, whispering in a rough voice, "It would be a shame to keep such a tempting servant all to himself, wouldn't it? I'm sure the prince won't mind if I take advantage of him as well".

A violent shudder took hold of Merlin and panic began to make its way through his body as the knight's mouth attacked his exposed neck and his hands began to touch him everywhere, sliding over his chest, hips and reaching for the laces of his breeches.

Merlin tried desperately to hold back the furiously pulsing magic struggling to get out, but when he tried to scream for help, Sir Herald quickly covered his mouth with his hand muffling any sound.

"We don't want the fun to end, do we?" he said against Merlin's ear, making him shiver with revulsion. "Besides, who would care about a servant?"

Something in Merlin's stomach dropped: even if someone had heard him scream, who would challenge a knight to stand up for a servant? He was aware of the terrible treatment many nobles gave to their servants and of the substantial indifference of high society about those abuses, and the inevitable horror of the situation struck him with more force than a slap.

Meanwhile Sir Herald's other hand had loosened the laces of his pants and was struggling to lower them.

'No no no no' Merlin thought frantically, closing his eyes to again hold back the magic that was struggling inside him. He had never felt so helpless and exposed in his entire life, and tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes, making him feel pathetic.

He was vaguely aware of the door opening and someone grabbing Sir Herald, pulling him away from him; he barely heard the screams, the sound of a body being slammed against the wall, the sound of knuckles meeting flesh. As soon as he felt the slimy hands leave his skin he slumped to the ground shivering, struggling to remember how to breathe.

Then someone was beside him, and Merlin raised his head at the wonderful sound of Arthur's voice calling to him. The boy's gaze was on him, full of intense concern but also attention as he scrutinized him for injuries, his reddened hands trembling with barely contained anger.

"Merlin... are you all right?" asked Arthur softly, looking into his eyes, and after the initial, blinding relief that had pervaded him, suddenly the realization of what he had just experienced overwhelmed Merlin. He looked away in embarrassment, shame burning his cheeks.

"Merlin, please look at me," Arthur gently touched his arm, trying to get him to turn toward him, "Everything's alright, okay? He won't touch you again, you have my word".

Merlin nodded and closed his eyes, letting Arthur help him up and letting him guide him out of the room and into the hallways as he fell into a state of confusion, his only constant foothold Arthur's gentle touch, his warm fingers around his wrist.

He was rallied only when he heard the door to Arthur's rooms close behind him and knew he was finally safe. Arthur guided Merlin to the bed and gently induced him to sit up, his hands resting on his shoulders as he examined him more calmly.

"What did he do to you?" he asked through gritted teeth, and Merlin lowered his head feeling overwhelmed by the fierce concern in his gaze.

"He... when we got into his rooms... he started saying things to me and pushing me against the wall... then he started touching me... I tried to scream but he covered my mouth and..." he shrugged briefly, his voice starting to break. "You know the rest."

"What did he tell you?" asked Arthur. Faced with Merlin's reluctance, he insisted: "Tell me, Merlin, I need to know if he disrespected you".

"He said... he implied that... that the only reason you chose me as your servant was so that I could..." Merlin swallowed, feeling humiliated at the memory, "so that you could have fun with me," he concluded in a low voice, lifting his eyes to Arthur with trepidation in anticipation of his reaction.

He saw the shock cross Arthur's gaze before his entire face became a mask of anger.

"How... how dare he," he growled, his jaw contracted and his hands clenched into fists. He turned back to Merlin. "I would never dishonor you like that, nor ask you to do anything you don't want to. You know that, don't you?"

He seemed concerned, even horrified that anyone would think that of him - that Merlin would think that of him.

"Arthur, I... of course I do," Merlin replied, his eyes wide. He stood up to move closer to him, sustaining his gaze with conviction. "I know you wouldn't."

Merlin knew him better than he knew himself, he knew that Arthur was too noble and honorable to force someone into his bed without his consent, and that was also why the knight's words had made him so repulsed: not only because they offended him, but also and especially because they besmirched Arthur's honor.

Arthur looked relieved. Then his eyes lingered on a spot on Merlin's neck and his gaze hardened again. "That bruise..."

"Oh" Merlin touched his neck, remembering Sir Herald's mouth, sudden and fierce. He had been too confused to really pay attention to it.

A muscle at the corner of Arthur's jaw twitched as his expression darkened. "If I hadn't arrived in time... if I had been late... that bastard would have..." he interrupted himself, unable to finish his sentence. "Gods, I don't even want to think about it."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably, trying not to dwell on that horrible possibility.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said regretfully, his gaze so distressed that Merlin felt something in his chest tighten.

"It's not your fault," he replied, wanting to wipe that pained expression off his face.

"It bloody well is! You had expressed your concerns to me about that man and I didn't listen to you like I should have, worse yet, I sent you to serve him! If anything had happened to you I would never have forgiven myself," he said sincerely, his eyes full of remorse, and Merlin fell silent as Arthur's gaze lingered on him.

Unlike what he'd felt with Sir Herald, he didn't feel uncomfortable under that gaze, didn't feel the urgent, instinctive need to withdraw feeling violated, quite the opposite. He felt that nothing could happen to him as long as Arthur was looking at him.

One of Arthur's hands reached up to gently touch the bruise on his neck, warm, gentle fingers tracing small circles on the reddened, scarred skin. Again Merlin didn't feel the instinct to retreat, but rather found himself almost unconsciously enjoying the touch, a strange warmth in his chest.

"A-Arthur," he stammered. Gods, he could have sworn he was blushing.

"Merlin," Arthur pronounced, and just his name coming from him sounded so soft, so right, completely different from the way Merlin had heard it come out of Sir Herald's mouth. "Tomorrow, when the tournament begins... I will face him. And I will make him pay dearly for it, I assure you."

Merlin opened his mouth wide and felt a wave of emotion tighten in his throat. "Really?" he asked in a choked voice. "You would do that for me?"

"Merlin... I don't think you know what I would do for you."

Arthur's voice was firm, his gaze steady and determined in a way that made Merlin's heart quicken a little. He didn't think Arthur would care that much about him, and suddenly he was hit with an unpleasant thought.

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head.

Arthur looked at him confused. "Why?"

"Because Arthur, you said it yourself, this tournament is a chance to make alliances, not create enemies," Merlin said, feeling guilty: he had tried so hard not to create disasters but had ended up causing them anyway, and he didn't want Arthur to be involved or the kingdom to suffer because of him.

He hadn't expected the response that followed.

"Then Sir Herald had better not have touched you, for I will not make alliances with anyone who has harmed you."

Arthur's tone was fierce and resolute as he looked at him with his proud blue eyes, and Merlin felt a warm feeling in his chest again. He had never felt so considered, and he wondered briefly why Arthur was doing this, but then Arthur rested a hand on his shoulder and his expression grew kinder. "Don't worry about it, okay? Just leave it to me."

And Merlin could only nod confidently, allowing all thoughts to disappear and hinting at a smile for the first time in that long, horrible day.

The tournament was about to begin. From inside the tent, Merlin could hear the king's opening speech as he helped Arthur put on his armor, a ritual he had accompanied him with before each fight numerous other times.

He remembered the first time he had done it, the way he had been awkward and unsure as he tried to remember the order and placement of all the armor plates. Arthur had huffed, but then had taken his hands showing him how to properly hold all the various parts of the armor and guided him as he placed them on him.

Now Merlin's hands were definitely more experienced and confident, trained by practice. When he had completed, he paused for a moment to look at him: Arthur looked absolutely glorious, as he always did when he had to fight.

This time, however, he looked different. There was a solemn atmosphere in the air, as if heralding a decisive clash, and Merlin was assailed by doubts: would Arthur attack Sir Herald first? What if someone had noticed Arthur's aggression towards the man and suspected something? What if the other knights took advantage of the situation and attacked him? What if his father had reprimanded him for treating a potential Camelot ally too roughly? What if-

"Merlin. You're thinking too much," he was called back to reality by Arthur's voice. Merlin looked up to be confronted by that confident, determined look. "I'll beat him and it'll be fine, you'll see."

"It's just..." Merlin began unsure. "Why are you doing all this for me, Arthur? If it's because you feel guilty I'll tell you again you don't have to, you didn't know what was going to happen and I-"

"Merlin." Arthur had moved closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm doing this because I care about you. No one can hurt you and get away with it," he said simply, in a deep voice and an intense look that made Merlin's cheeks burn a little.

The hand on his shoulder moved a little to brush the mark on his bare neck again with gentle, reassuring gloved fingers, and Arthur's gaze suddenly became burning, almost possessive, looking at him as Merlin had never been looked at before.

And then it was Arthur's lips that pressed against his virgin skin, a soft, unexpectedly intimate touch that made Merlin's stomach curl and made him all warm inside. It was a sweet, brief contact, and when it was over Merlin was breathless; he felt his skin burn as if it had been touched by fire.

Arthur looked at him, and for a brief moment something fiery and wild flashed in his eyes as he lifted a finger to lightly caress Merlin's lower lip - a warm and welcome touch completely opposite to Sir Herald's.

"When I win," Arthur said in a hoarse voice, without taking his eyes off Merlin's lips, "that's all I want as a reward. After all, I am your champion".

He turned a smirk on him, and he was so beautiful and warm and bright that Merlin felt his knees go weak.

"Forget it," he said awkwardly, and Arthur laughed.

"We'll see," he said with his usual confidence as he stepped out of the tent.

The sun illuminated his golden hair, creating bright reflections on his armor, and Merlin thought that when he looked like this he could never refuse him anything, even though he kept telling himself that he couldn't kiss him, that he would regret it.

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(He kissed him warmly and passionately when he won, and never regretted it.)