Merlin groaned softly, his arms aching from all the cleaning he had done that day. Along with his normal chores, the prat of a prince had added even more onto him! But he was finally done, having prepared the prince's bath before he had come down to the stable. He had used his magic to keep the water hot until someone got into it, allowing the water to cool naturally afterwards.

He stretched, his back popping with painful pleasure, and he rinsed himself off from the well nearby after he decided, since he had finished his duties for the day, to take some time for himself and go to the tavern. After, of course, getting Arthur's dinner. A grumble from his stomach reminded him that he had barely ate through the day, the bacon and sausage the only things that had been in his stomach since he awoke. He mentally added to get a small bite to eat after he happened to get the prince his food.

A small, that light tingle that is lighter than the kiss of a butterfly's wings, ran up his spine, causing him to freeze and glance around. The feeling of being watch invaded his senses. He couldn't place it, and after making sure the coast was clear, he whispered a spell. His eyes flashed a brilliant gold, but as he looked, he could see no one around. No one cloaked in magic, no one hiding. There was no one.

Sighing and smacking himself mentally, he called forth his magic again and released the magic he had set onto his eyes to see the heat signatures of anyone around him. Since Morgana hadn't attacked Camelot recently, it had fallen into a rather happy time of peace and quiet. There didn't seem to be any raiders, bandits, magicians. No one had attacked the surrounding villages either. Everything was oddly quiet. Merlin guessed that that was to blame for his jumpiness. He expected Morgana to just poof up and start throwing people left and right to get to the throne room, or summon the dead, again. There was no limit to where she would be willing to go or who to ask for help in her quest for dominion over Camelot.

He shook his head, and proceeded towards the kitchens for the second time that day to fetch Arthur's dinner. The knight's would be finishing up with their practice by now, and Arthur was always starving when he came back from a full day of training. A small wish to have the prince give him a compliment for once surfaced in his mind. Why couldn't Arthur just tell him that he did a good job for once?

'I mean, look at the stables! They look brand new...' Merlin sighed, just wishing that he would be given just a fraction of the gratitude that was most definitely deserved. He knew the prince wouldn't do that, and why he really even cared to have the prince give him some sort of token of endearment made no sense to Merlin. Gaius always told him he did a great job. When it was deserved, of course. He DID do a lot to mess things up, that was always, mostly... sometimes because he was trying to stop something bad from happening in the first place!

The entire time his mental dialogue was going on, Merlin had picked up Arthur's food from the kitchens. He was halfway down the hall from Arthur's room when someone grabbed his elbow and pulled him, hard, into a darkened corridor, the platter of food smashing onto the floor with a loud clang.

He would have yelled out, but for the large hand that slammed itself over his mouth to keep him from making a sound. He struggled, unable to see his attacker or see how big they were. And because he had no idea what was around, he couldn't just use his magic to smash something against the attacker's body or knock his attacker out. Right as he was about to cast a spell to overthrow his attacker, he was spun around and pulled into an unlit room, with the window allowing the moonlight in.

After a few seconds of his eyes getting used to the slightly brighter room, he noticed immediately who was in front of him and gave a huge sigh of relief.

"Percival! You scared me half to death! I was about t-"

Merlin was silenced when his head exploded into pain, stars forming before his eyes. Falling to the ground, he almost immediately tasted blood, his teeth having cut the inside of his cheek. Confused, he looked up to see Percival, unclad from the waist up, staring at the blood, Merlin's blood, on his knuckles. Slowly, he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the blood off, a low rumble escaping him, almost like the growl of a wild animal.

The raven haired boy was stunned, not being able to move a muscle. 'Wh-why... why did...' Merlin's thoughts were a whirl inside his own head and he jumped when he heard Percival's steps as he walked towards him. He tried to back away but he didn't get far. The solid wall behind him kept him from going any further. Trying to gain traction, his legs weakly kicked at the floor, Percival stepping on either side of the boys legs before sitting down heavily.

Merlin bit back a yelp of pain as his ankles were ground into the hard floor by Percival's arse, making very sure that the younger boy couldn't move his legs. Making a decision, Merlin whispered almost inaudibly a spell that would send Percival flying across the room. Except, it didn't. He didn't feel the familiar rush of energy, the tingling of magic as it wove his will into existence. Nothing. He tried again and again, but nothing came. A low laugh sent goosepimples up Merlin's arms, and we he looked up at Percival, he jumped.

The man's face looked almost demonic, an animalistic grin spread his lips that was almost a baring of teeth. His eyes, though, were what frightened Merlin the most. It was as if he was possessed by something. And whatever it was wasn't allowing him to do magic. Getting a crazy idea, Merlin tried to punch out at Percival's face with all he had, expecting the man to dodge and shift his weight off his legs so he could pull them back and kick out. Except Percival didn't dodge. He just turned his face, allowing Merlin's fist to smash into the side of his face.

The pain that snaked up his arm wasn't expected. Merlin had never really punched anyone before so he didn't know how much it would hurt him to do so. Another low chuckle and Percival slowly turned his head, staring Merlin straight in the eye. It froze the poor boy, fear causing his breath to quicken and his heart to flutter. He felt like prey. Prey that was caught and being toyed with.

Percival leaned in, causing Merlin to whimper softly as he expected something, anything, other than what happened next. A warm, wet thing touched his neck, causing a surprised yelp to slip from Merlin's mouth. When he realized it was Percival's tongue, he was frozen with both fear, and confusion.

"Wha-wha... Perci-" Another explosion of pain hit the other side of his face, causing him to moan out pitifully. Percival had punched him again. Merlin didn't understand what was going on, and we was legitimately afraid.

Percival placed his large hands on the lean boy's shoulders, slowly, gently, possessively running them down his arms. Merlin shuddered, his stomach roiling, head ringing with pain. He felt Percival grab his wrists and with one hand, pin them above his head. The other hand gently went down to Merlin's face, thumbing the darkening bruise that had already begun to flower there. Merlin hissed in pain and that seemed to make Percival happy, his thumb pressing ever so gently into the bruise.

Merlin, thinking that Percival was distracted, tried pulling his hands free, but to no avail. Percival had an iron-like grip on them, and the more he moved, the tighter he squeezed. He kept struggling, however, and Percival squeezed both of Merlin's thinner wrist hard enough to pop one out of socket. The pain made Merlin speechless, his mouth hanging open. Percival took that as a queue and brutally slammed his mouth against Merlin's.

His bruised face stung in protest of Percival's actions but Percival didn't care. His tongue tore through Merlin's move, almost like a knife. He poked several times at the cut in Merlin's cheek, moaning softly as he tasted the blood there. Percival's hand came up, grabbed the front of Merlin's shirt and yanked down hard, ripping the fabric open. Merlin just sat there, whimpering softly as Percival claimed his mouth, his large calloused hand roaming over the smoother boy's frame.

He seemed to have no more patience, though. Percival fell away, stood, pulled Merlin up by his wrists and flung him across the nearby table, sending the contents crashing to the floor. His heavy hand settled itself on Merlin's lower back, the pressure intense enough to make the smaller boy wince in pain.

Merlin felt, more than heard, the next bit of clothing being ripped away, the cool night air kissing his bare legs and arse. Percival had just ripped away his pants and exposed him to the world. Trying to turn around, to stop what he knew was going to happen next, he used his good hand to grab a nearby candelabra, using his hurt arm's elbow to hold his weight as he threw the metal decoration at Percival, missing him by a wide berth.

Another punch, this time to his side, took his breath away. He had heard a small crack, and worried that Percival had broken a rib. As he was able to get his breath back, Percival used his pants, having removed them while Merlin gained his wind, and tied Merlin's hands together behind his back, which hurt Merlin's already dislocated wrist.

A shiver tore through Merlin's body, the cold and fear finally making a physical manifestation. He closed his eyes as he felt Percival's hands grope his arse, spreading his cheek to show his virgin entrance to the world. He shook his head, not wanting to be taken this way, tears streaming down his face.

"Arthur..." he whispered, wondering why he had whispered the name of the one person he couldn't stand. He breathed in deeply, his tears continuing to stream down his now dust-laden face, and prepared himself for what would happen next.