A/N: New story! Unlike any I've posted before, this whole thing is written. I just finished it, piecing it together from many notes on my phone. I've never arranged a story so easily before. I love it. Warnings: Graphic depictions of rape and beatings. I'm so sorry, it's so terrible. Poor, poor Merlin. Honestly, it doesn't get much more graphic than this. Another warning: the ending is kind of abrupt. I mean, it works for me, because I'm mostly here for the whump and don't much like excessively long wrap-ups, but you could find it dissatisfying. I don't know. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this brutal, violent, very sad story. Oh, yeah, and Arthur's hardly center stage for this - but Gwaine is absolutely there for Merlin. They're just such sweet friends. Ok, on with the despair.

"Get us out of here!"

"Get the keys off that body there. Do it!"

Merlin didn't move. He stood stock still, watching the men grow desperate and furious.

"If you don't open the gate now," The worst of them growled, "You'll wish we killed you that first night."

The warlock's eyes flickered to the body with the keys, then to the lock, before settling on the seething men trapped in the cell. Eyes cold and determined, Merlin raised his arm, palm facing the cell. His irises glowed gold, summoning raging flames from the ground of the cell. The men yelled in surprise, then pain as the fire engulfed them. Merlin watched with a sense of justice, the fear coiled dense in his gut unraveling so he could breathe a little easier. He limped away and up cellar stairs, away from the screams in the cell.

There were still bandits fighting with the rest of the camp. Merlin eyed them warily, not willing to intervene to save the lives of any of those men. He backed away, moving along to the side of the building he'd come from.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind. Merlin staggered backward in the arms of someone he couldn't see. The man let him go once they were out of sight of the fighting at the center of the camp. Merlin spun around. He froze when he recognized Doran.

"Stay back," Merlin gasped as he stepped away. "Don't touch me."

Doran raised his hands placatingly, a mocking quirk on his lips. "Wouldn't dream of it." He gestured toward the sounds of swords clanging with a nod of his head. "It's a right mess out here. Where are the boys?"

"I burned them alive," Merlin said lowly.

"Ah," Doran clicked his tongue. "Shame. We're the last two, then." He stepped forward, and the warlock took a step back to stay out of reaching distance. "We ought to stick together, then."

"What?"

Doran gestured around at the woods surrounding the small clearing with a sweep of his arms. "We're far from any village, let alone your precious Camelot. You won't make it out here alone."

"I'll be fine."

"And what about when you cross paths with more bandits, or a slave trader? Will you kill them all? I don't think you could. You need someone to watch your back."

"I could never trust someone like you."

"Look at it this way. If I do anything you don't like, you can kill me with a glance. Isn't that right, creadur?"

Merlin tensed at the mocking term of endearment. The sounds of the fighting were dying down, meaning that the last survivors, either their captors or the bandits, would soon find them.

"Okay," The warlock conceded. "Just... stay away."

"Sure," The other man lowered his hands.

With that, they headed into the cover of the woods, at a slow enough pace to accommodate Merlin's limp.

The raven-haired boy hit the wall and crumpled to the floor. The men laughed when he curled in on himself with a sound of fear.

They'd beaten him into submission several times already, when his recoiling and struggling grew to be too disruptive. Some of them laughed and goaded him on when he tried to fight back, but in the end they all wanted the same thing, and they were willing to bash his head in to get it if he was too stubborn. They made that very clear the first time.

"I found a trap," Doran explained as he came back into sight after going out to scout ahead. "We should get away from this area before we stop to cook it," He lifted the rabbit in gesture. "Don't want whoever caught it to catch us too."

Merlin looked up at the sky. Judging by the stars, they were still far from Camelot.

"Alright," He agreed. He started in the right direction.

"How did it feel?"

"How did what feel?" Merlin asked flatly.

"Punishing them. Getting your revenge."

Merlin was silent for a while.

"Hollow."

"You sound like you've seen a lot."

Merlin grunted in agreement.

"It must have been humiliating to go through what you did. You have such power, such a mind... what we did to you..." He didn't sound remorseful, but rather full of wonder.

"You're only alive because you're useful. As soon as you're more trouble than you're worth..."

"I remember saying something quite like that to you."

The warlock clenched his fists, more to restrain himself than to show anger. Doran took the hint and said no more. He watched the young man before him, silent and powerful and solemn. To think that just days before, he'd been nothing more than a sniveling wretch curled up in the corner of their cell.

As soon as he was thrown into the cell, there were hands on him. They shoved him between them, the men in the cell sniggering.

"Look at the kid, he's all skin and bones!"

"We should be careful," The man holding the struggling young man by the arm joked. He pushed Merlin over to another prisoner, who punched him in the gut rather than catching him. Merlin doubled over with a wheeze. Before the man closest to him could grab hold of him, he straightened and backed into a corner. Merlin raised a hand and felt magic beginning to course through his body. His eyes flashed gold and-

"Ahhh!" The warlock howled in agony and fell to his knees, head in his hands.

"Fool!" One of the prisoners shook his head in amusement. "This cage is warded. You can't use magic in here."

Merlin looked up in dawning horror, blood dripping from his nose after the exertion of the failed spell.

"What do you want?" He asked, voiced edged with bravery.

The man who had hit him lowered to a squat before the warlock with a look of twisted amusement. "We're all prisoners here, kid. Rest of us, we're muscle. Tools that our captors bring out occasionally for any odd job or theft. Sometimes, they catch a mage and bring 'em here." He gestured behind him to the rest of the men. "But we get bored, see? Magic users are weak without powers. They don't last long with us."

Merlin tried not to look phased by the dark implications behind those words. "I can help, we can work together to-"

"You're not listening," The older man tutted in disapproval. "There is no way out. Those guys," He nodded toward the stairs leading up to their captors' camp, "only want the best and strongest stored down here. They don't care what happens to you. If you don't make it, well, you're not strong enough to be worth keeping anyway. That's their logic." He smiled brutishly. "Works for all of us."

The man stood and grabbed Merlin, shoving him face down on the floor.

"What are you doing?" The warlock asked, trying to push against the ground to get up. "You don't have to do this!" His head was pulled up by his hair and smashed into the stone floor. "Please," The warlock pleaded, unable to move beneath the weight of the other prisoner.

"No use begging," The man said close to his ear. "But feel free to."

When one of the men began pulling at the boy's clothes to tear them off, the warlock lost control. With a cry, he tried to channel all of his magic into one force to drive the men away. The cry of determination morphed into a scream as the effort drove spikes of pain through his skull. He didn't let up, though, and his attackers were moved back several paces. As soon as their hands were off of him, he stopped the magic. His screams didn't die down instantly. By the time he was quiet, he'd almost lost consciousness. He gripped his head with shaking hands and choked on the blood pouring steadily from his nose and the blood leaking from between his lips from the force with which he'd clenched his teeth.

"Damn fool," One of the men cursed, staring incredulously at the moaning youth on the ground. Another prisoner, enraged that the warlock had dared touch him with his magic, stormed over and placed a knee on the younger man's chest to hold him in place. He proceeded to punch the warlock in the face, over and over, determined to beat some sense and respect into him. Merlin's hands fell from his head. Each blow rang louder and louder in the silence after the magic show of force.

Once the other prisoners were over the weak magic that had moved them back, one of them stepped forward.

"That's enough, Rafe." He walked over and got the livid man's attention with a neutral hand on his shoulder. "He'll learn."

Rafe glared up at him before he calmed with a chuckle. "Yes, he will." He stood and walked away, wiping his bloody knuckles on his ragged shirt.

"My name's Doran," The man now standing over Merlin spoke. "You'd do well to learn this now." Doran lowered to grasp Merlin's chin, making sure he listened. Merlin looked up at him with uncertain eyes. "You are expendable. You'll live as long as we get what we want. If you really want to fight back like that, you'll die quick. Whether it's the wards or us, you'll pay for resisting." He looked into Merlin's eyes for any spark of defiance. Finally, he stood and turned to the other men.

"Shall we?"

Upon hearing the approaching caravan of slave traders and horse-drawn carts with carriages, Doran leaped from his bedroll. He got on top of Merlin, holding him still, and pressed a hand over the warlock's mouth. Merlin's nightmare being interrupted by the weight on his chest, the pinned man woke. When he realized that he was trapped, by Doran no less, his eyes widened. The gold had almost begun to glow before Doran looked down at him and shook his head, expression focused and serious.

"Quiet," He whispered.

Merlin heard it now, horses and men speaking. Merlin looked up at Doran in confusion. The caravan was not completely passed before Merlin tried to shake free the hand clamped over his mouth. Doran pressed down harder, annoyed. When the traders had ventured far enough that making a sound wasn't a risk, Merlin grunted and tried to move out from under the hold again.

Doran chuckled. "Reminds me of the good times."

That was enough. Merlin would not put up with this anymore. The warlock's eyes flashed gold. Doran's lecherous smile morphed into a frown and he yelped in pain, pulling his arm to his chest. The wrist of the hand that had been keeping Merlin silent had snapped under the force of the pinned man's magic. Enraged, Doran punched him hard in the jaw. Stunned by the blow at first, Merlin managed to twist free of the other man's weight. He scrambled back, breathing heavily and watching the other man with wary eyes.

Doran looked angry a bit longer before he shook his head with a sigh.

"I shouldn't have said that."

Thinking about it made Merlin shudder.

Doran got up and offered Merlin a hand. The warlock accepted reluctantly. Once he was up, Doran stood back to give him some room as he inspected his broken wrist. He prodded the joint with a wince.

Watching for any sudden movements, Merlin stepped forward and held out his hand. Doran, surprised by the open gesture, held out his wrist. Merlin took hold of it gingerly and allowed his magic to reach out to the wound. His eyes glowed gold and, with a small crack and a hiss from Doran, the bone was set and mostly healed. Doran pulled his arm back in and felt the joint. It was much better.

"Thank you."

Merlin nodded, not looking him in the eye.