Warnings for sex and mildly disturbing themes
Sometime along the journey, Morgana fell into a deep slumber, curled into Merlin's side, settling herself in the softest way possible onto his injured frame.
It was not long before her silence turned to whimpers to mumbled words to frantic shouts.
"No! Let him go! Don't hurt him! Please, please, please, please, please. He's all I have!"
"Someone wake her!" Arthur hissed desperately.
One knight trotted forward. Reaching within the cart, he shook Morgana's shoulder as gently as possible. After a series of shakes, she woke with a yelp and looked at no one as she buried her face in Merlin's shoulder, trembling as she tried not to weep.
The men gave her the illusion of privacy as they looked away.
By the time they arrived in the citadel, it was well into the afternoon. Morgana had recovered from her dream, but still clung to Merlin like a second skin. Arthur handed the reins of the horses over to a servant and ordered another to retrieve Gaius.
"Come now, Morgana. It is time to visit Father," he said softly, allowing her to remove herself from the cart, unassisted.
She swayed a bit, but righted herself before anyone was able to come and aid her.
She went to follow Gaius to his chambers, but Arthur took her by the shoulders and guided her away.
"No… I have to make sure he's okay," she mumbled, reaching out to Merlin's body, which was being carried away.
"You must speak with Father first," Arthur said, guiding her to the throne room.
She did not relent quietly, shouting and shoving before realizing that resistance was futile.
When the great doors opened, Uther stood merrily, greeting them with a smile.
"Morgana, we were concerned that you would not be found," he said reverently "I am incredibly glad that you have returned to us."
Morgana smiled weakly, her mind still on her warlock in the physician's chambers. She wrung her hands and shifted on her feet.
"I apologize if this gives you bad memories, but do you know why you were taken?" Arthur prodded.
She hesitated for the smallest moment, gripping her upper arms with both hands, digging her nails into the soft flesh of her skin.
"They wanted information, pain, punishment. They wanted to break us."
She shuddered, moving her arms again to clutch at her ripped shift, wringing it in her palms. She remembered the sound of Merlin's pain filled grunts and the calloused hand that beat her cheek.
"What did they do to you?" Uther asked furiously.
Morgana flinched with his angered tone.
"Th-they wh-whipped and b-beat him," she choked, biting her lip, trying earnestly to not let tears come to her eyes "Cut and b-broke him. They t-tried to make him s-scream, but he n-never w-would. Eventually, they s-stared to bring me in to w-watch. He w-would yell for them to t-take me a-away, begged me to c-close my e-eyes, b-but hearing his s-soft sounds of p-pain was unb-bearable. The-they would s-slap m-me when I did a-anything but w-watch. T-they would hea-heal him cr-crudely with m-magic so that he w-wouldn't di-die, but n-near the end we were w-wishing for d-death."
Morgana covered her mouth with her hand suddenly, attempting to catch a sob.
"Now he could d-die, and it's all my fau-fault!"
"It's not your fault, Morgana," Arthur consoled as gently as he could. Uther just stood, uncaring of the tale of the boy's suffering.
"Y-yes it i-is! He to-took what was supposed to be my pa-pain! Gave me more f-ood, protect-ted me from those mons-ters!"
She was hysterical, hiccupping and catching her breath, most of it dry and heaving, like her body couldn't muster the tears.
"I care not for this servant boy. You are what matters," Uther proclaimed, clasping his hands behind himself.
"Would you care for me if I told you that I am no longer innocent? That my maidenhead is not my own?" Morgana growled, her previous grief melting into anger. In her vexation, she forgot to heed her tongue.
Uther's lips became thin, his fists clenching and jaw tightening. His face turned a blood red, his eyes like slits.
"What?" he roared.
Morgana flinched and took a step backward.
"You have been ruined? What is your worth now? No good man will wish to have you!"
The words were harsh, biting. Even Arthur took a breath of incredulity.
"I do not wish for a good man! I wish for M-Merlin! I want hi-him! No one e-lse!" she cried, knowing in the recesses of her mind that she was letting her anger get the best of her.
Uther raised his hand to slap her, his leather-clad hand reaching out to take a fistful of knarred raven curls to bring her face closer to his livid eyes and growl at her.
Morgana's eyes widened, her eyebrows raising and crunching together, her mouth slightly agape in a silent scream. She curled into herself, her bare toes pointing in the empty space to the king's right, towards the nearest door. In her haste to escape his approaching hand she fell backward, covering her face with her arms.
"Get out of my sight!" he roared.
"Father!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling Morgana up by her forearms and pushing her behind his broad frame "She could have been raped!"
"I care not!" the king bellowed, waving his hand dismissively "She no longer has any worth as a Lady of the Court! No respectable man will have her now!"
The prince thought for a long moment, eyes slightly wide and eyebrows brought together. Slowly, a light came to him.
"So give her to Merlin!" he tried to reason, "He has withstood intense interrogation and torture, protected a Lady! He has done far better than any knight I have seen! Give Morgana to him as a gift!"
The idea was a bit half-baked, Merlin being a peasant from some far away settlement. He was born with nothing and, according to law, would die with nothing. In theory, it was an excellent solution.
Morgana felt sick. They were speaking of her as if she were an object or a fine horse in the stables. A "gift" to be given. Though she conceded that if she, in fact, was to be "given", she would prefer, virtually wish, to be given to her Merlin. Her Emrys.
It was then that she made her decision. She loved Merlin far too much to be taken away from him. If this proposal did not pass, he would be executed for holding the affections of a Lady.
She would request, beg if she had to, to be "given" to Merlin. She hated it, the thought of degrading herself to the point of being passed off as something without a mind of it's own, but it was either this or his death. If she wished to be with him, wanted him to continue living, then she would present herself as nothing more than an object in the court. She was "ruined" to them, but she knew better. Merlin knew better. She was worth more than ever before because she had joined with the man she loves.
Arthur broke her from her thoughts.
"How did you escape in the first place, Morgana?" he tried to deviate the subject line.
She smiled softly, if a bit strained.
"It was Merlin. I was hasty in my desire to be free. He stopped me from making many foolish mistakes. He said we should have waited, let the time pass until they lessened the patrols. We bode our time, and in turn we had a relatively easy escape. They thought we were broken, and Merlin knew that they thought that. But we were strong. He was strong."
She wasn't lying. He had done all of those things, though she made it sound a bit more elegant.
Uther, though still incensed, considered the facts that the new information brought to the table. He could not just give his ward to a peasant, even if she was sullied. He could give the boy a small area of land, far off in the outskirts and include Morgana as a house-warming gift, but that was too giving for a king of his demeanor. Uther mulled over his options.
"What is this boy's surname?" he demanded. He was sure it was of no consequence, but there was no harm in asking.
"A-Ambrosious," Morgana stuttered in her haste to reply, still a bit shaken by his previous anger. She buried her unease deep within her, but it leaked slowly through her stone mask.
Uther's red completion melted to a milky white.
"He said his name was far too long, so he shortened it. Ambrosious is just an abridged version," she added, hoping to placate him.
"Bring that boy in here!" Uther roared with a newfound urgency.
The siblings jumped, unsettled by the king's sudden change of manor.
"Father, he is unwell," Arthur attempted to reason. "He wasn't even conscious the last time I saw him. What could be so urgent that you must interrupt his healing?"
The king's teeth clenched and his jaw pulsed.
"That boy's father was a traitor! He abandoned the court, was a Dragonlord!" Uther snapped.
Arthur was surprised, but he thought for a moment while Morgana tried to look shocked.
"With all due respect, Father, my manservant has confided in me that he never knew his father. Didn't even know the man's name. He had assumed that he had died while he was in the womb. His mother never spoke of the man."
Uther paced before his throne, tapping a gloved hand on his stiff lower lip.
"You are sure that he knows nothing of his heritage?" the king frowned, the heels of his shoes tapping the marble floors.
"Positive, Father. All of the Dragonlords have died out, as you know. The legacy died with Balinor. And even if the powers have passed to him, I have slain the last dragon. If we wish to hide Morgana's impurity, he must be alive. He is ignorant and holds no connection to those beasts. We must play our cards right, for we no longer have a full deck."
The king sat heavily in his throne. He knew that his son was correct. It was something he would never admit, but they were stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"I will think on this, but it seems as though we have little choice," he mussed, bringing his fingers to his temple as if soothing an ache.
"Thank you, sire," Morgana spoke softly, curtsying as deeply as she could.
"We will take our leave," Arthur stated, grasping Morgana by the shoulders and pulling her towards the doors.
Uther gave an absent nod.
Once they were in the hall, Morgana shook her brother's hands from their uncomfortable perch far too close to her neck.
"So…" Arthur tried awkwardly. "How did you become, uh… deflowered?"
it was an unseasonable situation and admittedly, Arthur had never had to deal with one quite like the one that was thrust upon him right then.
Morgana walked onward, mulling over what to tell her half-brother.
"Merlin and I… we needed to remind ourselves what love felt like. We had our weak and our strong moments. We still do, as you have seen. But that moment- that moment of weakness was thrust upon us. The disgusting guards wanted a fun time, but Merlin wouldn't allow it. He fought even in chains, covering my body with his. He wouldn't let them near me. They fought to the point where the guards said either he bed me, or they would."
"You fucking bastard," the filthy man spat. "You think you can get in the way of my fun time, boy?"
The other two men flanking the man jeered.
"Hey Weis," the one to his right came forth, his tone too eager for comfort. "Why don't we strike this little man a deal?"
The first man hummed.
"What kind'a deal were ya thinking?"
The second man smiled in a feral snarl.
"Either he fucks her senseless, while we watch, of we get to do it ourselves."
"Em-Merlin," Morgana caught herself, "nearly broke then. It was the first time in our five-and-a-half month imprisonment that he cried in front of them, or at all."
Merlin's eyes widened and filled with tears. He fought to keep the drops in, but the force of the horror that overwhelmed him pushed the tears over.
How could they ask that of him?
His eyes stayed wide and unfocused as the diamond droplets slipped down his elfin features and onto Morgana's cheeks and nose.
"E-Emmy," she choked softly. Her eyes were like saucers, emerald green irises watching the tears emanation from his cobalt orbs with nauseating wonder.
"Wh-what do I d-do?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. He was asking, not her, but himself. And for the life of him he could not find an answer. His arms shook from where they were braced beside her head.
"Love me," she whispered clemently, fisting her hand firmly in his hair. "Love me like they never would."
"And love me he did," she sighed, fingering the mass of curls about her shoulders. "I'd always wished for him to love me like that; with his body as well as his heart and soul. But not like that. Not with those men watching our love. We made the most of it, though."
"Ar-are you with a child?" Arthur asked tentatively, twisting his fingers in a very un-princely way.
Morgana paused in her steps, truly thinking on the question. She did not turn to face the prince.
"I do not know, but if I am, it was born of love, and nothing else."
He looked at her for a long moment, taking in her matted hair and dust-stained cheeks. She was beautiful.
"Fuck her already!" the third guard called.
He was ignored.
Eyes never leaving hers, he lifted a shaking hand to caress her torso. Her dress was torn, and the once white silk had long ago turned a dull, foggy gray.
Where his work-worn fingers touched her exposed skin, heat bloomed. Long fingers skimmed up the expanse of her back, clumsily loosening the laces holding the precious fabric to her body. His hands hooked themselves beneath the silk, removing her modesty along with the cloth.
Her thin fingers danced down his chest, which was bare from the primitive healing session that had been held just a few hours prior. They had not replaced his rags.
Everything was slow; from the movement of his hands pushing her shift past her hips to the way the tips of her fingers caressed his protruding cheekbones and full lips.
As she shifted to allow the fabric to glide past her legs, Merlin ever so softly kissed her lips. Her lips were not smooth and red as they once were so many months ago, but chapped and pink, like pale seashells. They were just as soft, though, despite the circumstances.
They poured everything into that kiss, all their love, all their passion. Morgana tensed when she heard the men spit harsh encouragements to go faster, but Merlin dragged her attention back to him.
"Hey, hey, look at me," his breath brushed against her lips "It's just us. They don't exist."
Nodding, she pressed her lips more firmly to his, and his hands were brought to her breasts in a gentle hold. His thumbs skimmed and circled her pink nipples softly, and she hummed lowly.
Full lips prodding, he moved his way down her neck and to her bosom. He kissed and lavished her peaks and mounds, his tongue circling the pink rings one at a time.
His lips then went to the flat of her stomach, his tongue delving into her bellybutton teasingly. She moaned softly, threading her fingers through his ebony locks. Eventually he came to her womanhood, the very essence of her.
The palms of his hands spread her thighs, and he took in a breath at her beauty. Despite their situation, she was eager for him, her essence dripping for his love.
Delving into her folds, he licked and nipped the diamond between her lower lips, massaging the nub lightly.
She mewled and keened quietly, her fingers gripping his hair and holding him to her core.
Sliding lower, Merlin lapped at her sweet nectar, humming in pleasure at the slightly sweet, slightly salty taste.
He glade his lips back up her winsome form and back to her lips.
Morgana could taste herself on his lips and tongue, and she gave a half moan, at the taste of him mixed with her, half groan at the need for him blooming within her.
He understood her silent plea and moved the hand that was braced on her hip to her womanhood. He circled and teased her, until she pulled fiercely on his raven hair.
Fingers dancing within her, Merlin nipped and licked her lips, jaw, and neck. Her cries grew louder in volume and higher in pitch, contrary to her attempt to keep herself quiet.
"Fuck her!" the men growled.
"Love me," she breathed.
And with that soft whisper of a request, Merlin unlaced his trousers with a single hand, and pushed them down past his knobby knees and ankles, kicking them off.
He spread her legs and inched forward, his manhood stiff and aching, craving her heat. He took care to be gentle while inching into her, her tightness wrapping around him, smooth like silk.
It stretched and pulled her in ways she had never felt before. It was foreign, but the pain was not sharp like a sting until he reached her maidenhead. It was a split second where it broke and the prick made her flinch. The rest of the way was much like before: an ache on her walls, which was sharp but dull at the same time- acute. It was the kind of ache that alerts you, makes you feel filled with an odd energy. It pulled and tingled in a bright kind of way, like touching ice to a healing burn.
Morgana shifted slightly. He filled her completely, and she sighed at the full feeling it gave her behind the ache. Merlin paused, sheathed to the hilt, his face hovering over her own.
"Well come then, love. Haven't the time to dally, do we?" she whispered fondly in his ear, pulling his chest to hers in a gentle embrace.
Her fingers played with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck faintly, nuzzling his cheek a bit with the tip of her nose.
Merlin lifted himself a bit to look into her eyes and smile lovingly.
And with that lilt of the lips, he moved within her.
It was slow; a small shift of his shoulders and rock of his hips. It felt like falling; a rising feeling within her, slightly uncomfortable, but slightly pleasing.
An "oh!" slipped from between her lips, a tiny exclamation. Merlin looked at her expectantly and smiled. She smiled in turn, nodding and fluttering his lashes in a teasing sort of way.
It was a dance of many speeds and rhythms; soft and slow to hard and fast. It varied, as did the sounds emanating from their mouths; from loud to quiet, moans being swallowed by lips and tongues and teeth as they joined in more ways than one.
Their finish was not grand, nor intense, but satisfying in way they never thought possible.
Morgana came first- Merlin made sure of that. She tightened her hold on his hips that she had claimed with her endless legs, pulling him to her firmly and pushing his hips to hers.
She pulsed around him, her muscles convulsing sporadically, her mouth shaped in a tiny "o" before she bit her lip kindly to stifle her "mu-ah" of pleasure.
Her moan melted into his as he, too, came to completion within her, spilling his seed and pulling her to him in a loving embrace, still sheathed inside her.
They ignored the world around them; the men who stood behind them, hands disgustingly thrust within their trousers, chafing their skins to a shallow finish; the cold stone walls surrounding them; the dusty cell floor laying harshly beneath their bare bodies; the chains binding their wrists. They saw nothing but each other.
And something beautiful came to be.