A/N:

Welcome to the first story drawn from my Red Prompt Bucket! Please put your hands together for the lucky winner of today's draw! Wisegirl16 (Do I see a Percy Jackson reference?) who has requested Merlin is taken by slave traders and actually sold to someone cruel and abusive (can't avoid whump here) and is finally rescued by Arthur. I hope you guys enjoy!

Merlin is not mine, although I have that picture with Bradley James framed now (normal timber frame, not one with silly love hearts etc) so you could say I kind of own the Once and Future King...

CHARACTERS: Merlin, Arthur, Knights, Gaius & a few nasty OC's

RATED: T

GENRE: Hurt/Comfort, Angst


THE ADVENTURES OF MERLIN

Slave

Merlin tried to bite back a scream as the whip curled around his shoulder, immediately flaying the sensitive skin and flicking hot blood onto his face. This was not the first time he had undergone this punishment since the beginning of his time with Lord Gellich, and he doubted it would be the last. The youth squeezed his eyes closed as the braided leather cord was brought down once more across his damaged back, which was already a maze of scars and half healed welts from repeated abuse. In an attempt to focus on remaining conscious, Merlin tried to remember how long he had been in the Lord's service; how long it had been since he had seen Gaius, Guinevere, Arthur...
He had been marking the days in the pathetic excuse of a room he called home, and his fingernails were worn down and bleeding from the effort, but for the life of him, as the whip was brought down again and again, he could not remember.
The youth was sobbing now – in pain, frustration and lost hope – is emaciated frame quaking from the force of his emotions, possibly combined with shock and blood loss.

Surely Arthur would be looking for him? Even after all this time...what was it again? Come on Merlin, Think!
Three months.
Three long and painful months.
His magic had been suppressed by some foul tasting potion that was forced down his throat every night, which he only ever spit out once, earning him a dagger in the shoulder and a near death experience. No, he wouldn't try that again.
Merlin felt his cracked and broken ribs protest as he was cut from the whipping post, and allowed to fall on his front – his flayed back exposed to the harsh sun. He tried not to watch as Lord Gellich approached; his imperious nose in the air as though Merlin was nothing more than a pile of dung.
'I ought to demand my money back,' Gellich hissed, gripping his greasy black hair and jerking his head back so their eyes met. 'You are the most useless runt I have ever had the misfortune of purchasing.'

Finding his courage that had fled after his first beating, Merlin grinned darkly up at his captor with bloody teeth. He must have bitten his tongue at some point during the flogging.
'You...are the worst kind of pig,' the youth panted, fully expecting the heavy blow across his skull that followed to comment.
Part of his brain told him that he shouldn't be antagonising this man, but Merlin was beyond caring. Arthur wasn't coming and if he was going to die here, he would die with a fight.

Fighting the urge to be swept away into unconsciousness, the young man laughed, the movement putting strain on his damaged chest. Another blow and Merlin felt the skin above his brow split from the excessive amount of rings this man wore.
'You have no right to call me useless when you have brought me illegally from a group of bastards who have taken me away from my home!' Merlin spat the blood into the Lord's face and sneered. 'I only serve one man, and that is King Arthur of Camelot!'
The Lord snarled, but did not strike him again, for which Merlin was grateful – but that malicious glint in his eye, the cruel smile stretched upon his lips told the young man he would have preferred the hit. Gellich turned to his guards, his eyes still shining with barely concealed excitement.
'Fetch the Crow Pole from the dungeons. Today, my slave dies – slowly and painfully. I want him under the sun before noon.' He ordered.

Merlin swallowed the lump of panic rising in his throat and tried to control his breathing. The Crow Pole sounded awfully unpleasant – in fact, the young man wanted to scream for Arthur until his throat bled...but for his King, he would be strong. He would be defiant and he would make his friend proud. With much difficulty, he pulled himself upright and raised his chin, eyes blazing with fierce determination as he watched the Guards reappear carrying a roughly hewn pole, with a vertical crossbar close to the top so that the pole resembled the letter 't'.
Although Merlin's mind was screaming in panic, his face was calm, even as two Guards appeared by his side and grabbed him roughly under the arms.
'You're going to wish you'd never been born, boy.' The Guard on his left growled.
The young man did not even glance at the man – he just allowed them to lead him down the scaffolding and through the crowed, following those who carried the Crow Pole out into the fields that were bordered by dense forest. If he could make a break for it now, he cou-
His train of thoughts were interrupted by a heavy blow to the back of his head. Refusing to pass out, Merlin fell to his knees with a grunt, spitting out another mouthful of blood. It wasn't from his tongue.

Taking a deep, experimental breath, the young man hissed. One or more of his damaged ribs had lacerated his lungs. So he didn't have much time anyway.
Almost resignedly, he sighed – only crying out when the pushed him onto his back against the rough texture of the pole.
None to gently, they extended his arms far above his head and produced two iron nails, both long and thick.
Oh God's...they weren't going to tiehim up here...they were going to nail him.

Surprisingly, Merlin's face didn't even twitch at the sight of the grotesque nails, he just watched on as one of the Guards produced a large mallet and set the point of the first nail against his wrist bone.
The pain was blinding, as the spike drove through his flesh, muscle and bone – but his determination to show strength was intense and instead of screaming in absolute anguish, his throat burned as he bellowed: 'FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!'
The Guard snarled as the nail was driven into the wood behind him, and continued to do so as Merlin shouted those five words over and over.
Even as the second nail held his wrist secure and the pole was erected, the weight of his body and unsecured feet (even as malnourished as he was) pulling his arms from their sockets, he continued to cry.
'FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT! FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!'
Even as they Guards and the Lord that had been his master walked away and the crows swooped down to drive their sturdy beaks into his flesh, Merlin still yelled: 'FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!'

*~*M*~*

Arthur hadn't given up. Even after three months of fruitless searching, fights with the council and sleepless nights – The King still searched.
All of his Knights remained loyal to his cause, travelling with him wherever the whispers led, and eventually, all their hard work paid off.
They had finally found the group of illegal slave traders that had stolen Merlin from beneath their noses.
It wasn't easy to break the leader – It took many days and certain methods of extraction, that Arthur was not exactly proud of using, but this was Merlin...kind, loyal and brave Merlin. His best friend and unofficial advisor. So he reasoned that these bastards deserved the treatment they got and left them in the dungeons whilst he and the Knights rode out.
Merlin's buyer, according to the leader, was one Lord Gellich – who oversaw a province a few leagues south of the Camelot border – and with that knowledge, the King and his Knights now sat at the edge of the forest, watching as a wooden pole was raised and secured, leaving the man – still yelling the words that had first led them to this spot – vulnerable to the crows.
To say Arthur was angry would have been a vast understatement. His fists were clenched at his side, knuckles white as the large black birds began to swoop.
'We have to do something,' Arthur hissed, feeling his heart clench in fear as the youth's voice began to lose its strength.
'We're working on it, Princess,' Gwaine responded as he began to gather sturdy branches from the forest floor. It was obvious to the King that they planned to fashion a ladder, lashed together from the ropes in their packs, but Arthur shook his head.
'It's a good idea, if we had the time. Merlin...he needs to come down from there now.' He explained, unsheathing his sword. 'I need you all, because we can't climb up there, so we need to fell it like a tree.'
The King was surrounded by his best Knights; Sir Leon, Sir Gwaine, Sir Percival and Sir Elyan, who drew their swords without hesitation and followed Arthur as he raced through the field and towards their goal. As they got closer, their anger heightened and the five wanted nothing more than to kill the man who did this to their friend.
Up close, the pole wasn't as high as they previously thought, but Merlin's injuries were...gruesome, to say the least. Even from his vantage point, Arthur could see the bloody and mangled flesh of his back and Oh Gods...they actually nailed him to the post!
Clutching his gut, Arthur turned his head and promptly threw up.
'We have to get him down,' The King gasped, wiping the bitter taste of vomit from his lips before swinging his sword against the post.
'Percival, Leon and Elyan – I need you to position yourself beneath the pole to catch it when we break through. Gwaine...start chopping.'
It was crude, and the knights were beginning to wish they had the forethought to pack an axe or two, just in case, but after forty minutes or so, the post started to fall back, eliciting a pained yelp from the youth that was attached.
With a grunt, Percival caught the post on his shoulder and with the help of the others, gently lowered it to the grass.
Arthur was sick again.
Merlin's face was gaunt and hollow beneath the shroud of blood that coated the side of his face, Arthur could count the ribs beneath the boy's skin, and the severity of the bruising upon his pale torso indicated that some of those ribs had punctured his lungs.
It was not looking good.
The King crashed to his knees by Merlin's side and brushed his damp raven locks from his fiery brow.
'F-f-for...t-the...l-love of C-C-Camelot...' The youth gasped hoarsely, his cobalt irises blinking up at him with a mixture of agony and relief. 'Y-you...came...'
Arthur choked back a sob and lifted the boy gently to his chest. 'Of course I did, you idiot...I won't ever leave you behind...' he whispered as the young man trembled against him.
Merlin chuckled humourlessly into Arthur's collarbone. 'I never gave up hope...' he replied with a sigh, before finally losing himself to the darkness that had threatened to sweep him away for hours before.


It took the party four days to reach the citadel walls, by which time Merlin's brow burned with a raging fever. The times he was actually awake were spent deep in delirium, before his body convulsed with the heat of infection, sending him back into unconsciousness.
Gaius met the troupe at the gates, and nearly sobbed at the sight of his ward, but he schooled his features and began shouting orders to the Knights.
Without being asked, Arthur lifted the young man gently from the saddle and cradling the malnourished youth in his arms, raced towards the Physician's chambers.
With a high pitched moan, Merlin opened his eyes, the movement of the King's gait making him dizzy. He could see the look of fierce determination in Arthur's eyes, but right now that was least of his problems. His lungs felt like they were being crushed, and the feeling of drowning was overwhelming. Merlin began to struggle as the heat rose to his throat, but being unable to turn; blood spattered from his lips and coated his chin with the thick gore.
Arthur looked down, his face panicked as Merlin's gaze met his. 'Just hold on, Merlin...I've got you.' He assured gently as his eyes began to slide shut.

He was dying – he could feel his heart slowing, the world around him swimming. The King quickened his pace as fear overtook his logic, watching Merlin suffer like this was like a blade to his heart. Merlin gave him a sad smile before he was once again, lost to black.

*~*M*~*

Merlin had died, several times – whilst Gaius tended to his wounds, but thanks to both Physician and King, they managed to bring him back and keep his heart beating. It was during these times, Arthur had realised, just how much the self-sacrificing idiot meant to him, and just how painful it would be if he lost him. Guinevere had taken care of most of his duties, meeting with the council and such while Arthur stayed by Merlin's side, holding his hand and speaking words of comfort to the youth.
It was a painstakingly long week before Merlin finally opened his eyes, looking not so much like death as he had, but still weak and in pain.
'W-water,' he gasped, giving Arthur's hand a quick squeeze and waking him up instantly. It was past midnight and Gaius was asleep in Merlin's chambers, while the King continued his vigil by his friend's side.
The King, with one arm behind Merlin's neck for support, lifted him gently and brought a cup to his lips, allowing only a few dribbles to begin with before giving him the rest.
'Merlin...' he whispered, his words sticking in his throat from emotion. He had suffered great emotional stress for three months and tears of relief threatened to spill from his azure orbs. 'God's...Merlin. I should have found you sooner...'
Settling back against a pile of donated pillows, the dark haired youth gave him a small smile.
'D-don't blame yourself,' he wheezed, his gaze suddenly serious. 'You never gave up on me...t-that's more than I can ask.'
Arthur sniffed, and those accursed tears began to fall. 'What they did to you was unforgivable,' he muttered thickly, his lips trembling as Merlin reached up to catch the tears on his finger.
'Shh...Arthur. I'll be ok...I'm just...really tired.'
The King chuckled wetly. 'You've been asleep for a week straight. How could you be tired?'
Merlin's brow furrowed in pain, and Arthur sighed – the moment of humour gone. Resting his calloused palm against the boy's forehead, his fingers stroking, Arthur allowed more tears to fall. 'Don't ever do that to me again...I almost lost you,' he sobbed, watching as sleep overtook the boy once more.
While to boy slept, Arthur swore with every fibre of his being, that he was going to find the man who did this to his friend and make him wish he had never crossed him.


Hmmm...I like that – nice and whumpy. Please let me know what you thought and I will draw the next prompt. I will see you for the next chapter!