Gwaine did not go back to his chambers after leaving Anna at Gaius's door. Instead, he went in search of Percival and Elyan. They were both in Elyan's room talking, and it didn't take long for him to put them in possession of all the facts.
They were as appalled and infuriated as he was. "This has to stop," Elyan said firmly, his eyes blazing. "Merlin catches one of them making advances on a maid, so they attack Merlin and beat him half to death, and then they start making advances on Anna. Who's next—Gwen?"
"We have to talk to Agravaine," Percival declared. "I know you said Merlin wouldn't testify against them, but something has to be done. Our choices are to incite a diplomatic emergency, or put up with them doing whatever they like to anyone in the citadel that they manage to catch alone. Personally, I'll take option one."
"I agree," Gwaine said. "Let's find Agravaine."
Agravaine, who was alone in his study, listened politely and kindly to everything they had to say, and expressed concern over Merlin's condition and the maids' nerves.
"But what would you have me do?" he said, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"Send them away!" Gwaine said, leaning forward sharply. "Kick them out of Camelot!"
"On what grounds?" Agravaine answered calmly. "You say that when you entered the armory, Anwen and Bergam were talking. Did you actually see him attack her?"
"Thankfully, I stopped him before he could," Gwaine answered through gritted teeth.
"Then it would be her word against his. And you say that Merlin will not declare who attacked him, and it is only his word that Bergam inconvenienced a castle maid."
"Arthur believed him!" Percival exclaimed.
"And dealt with the matter," Agravaine finished. "Everything else you have told me is purely speculative."
Gwaine brought his fist down on the table. "Are you calling me a liar?" he practically shouted.
"Not at all, Sir Gwaine." Agravaine's tone was still reasonable and polite, and it was like a dash of cold water on a fire. "But I cannot… kick two princes, the sons of one of our allies, out of Camelot without bringing charges against them. And we have here no charge that would stand up, or convince their father, the King of Mora, that we had acted justly in sending them away. I am sorry, gentlemen, but there is nothing we can do."
Gwaine spun on his heel and marched out of the room, slamming the door open. Percival and Elyan exchanged a look, and bowed respectfully to Agravaine, who looked completely unfazed by Gwaine's response.
"Nothing he will do, he means," Gwaine growled when they caught up with him.
"We'll just have to wait until Arthur comes back," Elyan said as calmly as possible. "I'm sure he'll do something about it."
"I don't understand how Arthur could have such… creeps for friends," Percival said as Gwaine continued to fume.
"Well, Gwen tells me Arthur wasn't always as… amiable as he is now," Elyan answered. "In fact, I believe the first time he met Merlin, they got into a fight and Arthur beat him up a bit."
Percival looked like his idols had fallen. "Really?"
"Yes. Obviously his personality has improved over the years, but his old friends' haven't."
Gwaine was still standing with his arms crossed, frowning like a thundercloud. "I don't care where their depravity came from; I care that it stops. Even if Agravaine won't do anything, we have to. It's our job to protect Camelot in Arthur's absence."
"Do you mean… scare Bergam and Cranog off?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," Elyan said.
"Hopefully it won't come to that: Arthur should be back in a week or so," Gwaine answered, apparently beginning to cool down. He uncrossed his arms. "But we can protect the people, meanwhile. We can walk the castle employees home at night if any of them have to go down to the lower town."
"And we can tell the staff to do their work in pairs when they're going to be in any isolated part of the castle," Percival added.
"Let's go down and talk to Cook."
000
So it was that the only night Anna had to work late and ask Gwaine to escort her home, they were also accompanied by two other maids and a stablehand who had all decided safety was to be found in numbers. Anna was disappointed—and immediately took herself strongly to task for it. What right had she to be disappointed?
One comfort, she told herself as Gwaine and the last kitchen maid said goodnight at her door, was that Merlin was improving much more swiftly than she would have thought. She would have liked if she and Gaius could have taken credit for it, but she believed the cause of his fast recovery could be found elsewhere—an elsewhere she was trying hard not to think about for now. In a couple of days, Merlin would be well enough to leave his bed. She only hoped he wouldn't overdo it—he was so energetic, and took so many responsibilities on himself, she was afraid he would try to do too much too soon. Or that Arthur, who seemed to work Merlin like a dog, would make him try to do too much. But Arthur would have to come home first. It was an event the inhabitants of the castle were all beginning to look forward to with fervor.
It finally occurred five days later. Up in Gaius's chambers in the tower, Anna had had no intimation of Arthur and Leon's return until the former suddenly burst into the room, barking "MERLIN!" so loudly that she jumped.
Merlin had been sat in the most comfortable chair Gaius owned. His back was to Arthur, and he didn't even bother turning around, his pale, bruised face growing hard as he heard the anger in Arthur's voice. Anna quickly made herself scarce.
"I'm away for a fortnight, and I come back to find my chambers a mess, my bed unmade, and my guests complaining of lack of service!" Arthur ticked the charges off on his fingers. His diplomatic mission to Mercia had been tiring and occasionally infuriating, he hadn't managed to get everything he wanted out of the negotiations, and he was tired and—though he wouldn't admit it—sore from the journey. He was also hungry, which made his temper sharper than usual. And coming back to a pigsty of a room when all he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a week had been the final straw. He let fly. "I told you to take care of our guests, the PRINCES OF MORA, and when I get back I find that they haven't seen you in more than a week! What have you been doing, lazing around the tavern? Making trysts in the woods with some pretty girl from the lower town? I should have you thrown in the stocks!" He glared at Merlin's unmoving form. "Get up and look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Merlin reached a hand out of the blanket that Arthur only then noticed had been wrapped around his shoulders, and grabbed a cane that had been hidden beside the leg of the chair. Slowly and gingerly, he got to his feet, wincing as he turned to face Arthur. His face was covered in old bruises, the skin between looking even whiter than usual against the dark circles under his eyes. He wasn't wearing his usual neckerchief, and more bruises were visible over the neckline of his shirt. His left arm was in a sling, and his right ankle, bootless, was wrapped in bandages. But worse than all of these was the expression in his eyes when he looked up—a combination of hurt, anger, and underneath, a determination not to show just how much pain he was in.
Arthur was struck dumb in a moment and felt himself blanch white at that look. Then Merlin wavered on his feet, and Arthur found himself across the room, supporting Merlin's weight, trying not to hurt him as he lowered him anxiously back into the chair, scolding again, but this time in a different tone. "Careful!"
Merlin closed his eyes with an expression of pain, trying to calm his breathing, his good hand to his ribs, which Arthur assumed were injured from the whimper Merlin had made when Arthur touched him. He sat down on the edge of the table and stared, waiting until Merlin opened his eyes again with some semblance of calmness.
"God, Merlin," he said quietly, "what happened?" And a moment later, his tone harsher as he realized the import of the injuries, "…Who did this to you?"
Merlin looked away, swallowing hard.
"Merlin," Arthur said again: "tell me."
"I would… prefer not to make accusations that could cause trouble for Camelot," Merlin said, his words quiet and clipped. He glanced back up at Arthur fleetingly, and looked away again.
Arthur swallowed hard as he realized the truth. Straightening up, he paced back and forth across the room a couple of times.
"And I brought them here!" he said furiously through clenched teeth, almost to himself. "Don't come back to work until you're healed," he added to Merlin, his tone angrier than he meant—but he knew Merlin understood that he wasn't angry with him. "I don't want to see you lifting a finger until Gaius says you're well." Merlin nodded, and Arthur took a deep breath. "And I'll take care of this," he said finally, his face grim, and stalked out the door.
TBC
AN: Goodness, lots of capslock, italics and exclamation points in this chapter…
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