He was so sure everything would be alright, until, suddenly it wasn't.
Things didn't just go a little wrong for him, they went straight from bearable to a long waking nightmare as scar face threw him to the tent floor unlacing his breeches with one hand and wrapping the rope binding Merlin around his fist.
"What are you doing? Keep your pants on, I - I order you to!" he demanded in a poor imitation of Arthur as he scrambled to put as much room between them as possible. "You are in no position to be giving orders little prince" scar face said his expression frightening in that he had none - no hate not desire nothing but dark empty eyes that stared into Merlin as though he could read his soul.
"Not much to look at are you?" his mouth curving int ao cruel smirk as he flicked at his ear. Merlin set his jaw firmly, "Nope, not at all just stupid big-eared Merlin."
Scar face chortled, "I suppose I can stand your face if I squint" he hums tilting his head this way and that, "you have nice skin, soft" he adds his hands cupping Merlins jaw his hand tightening to hold him still, "like a woman."
"Please" Merlin said his voice soft and cracking, "don't - don't do this."
"I to have my martching orders boy, and they come from a man far more able to follow through than you are" he said shoving Merlin flat on his back cracking his head against a rock; making his vision spin nauseatingly.
"You do this and I will curse you your family and anyone who might come after!" Merlin hissed, "I will-" scar face slapped him and he tasted blood, "You will do nothing boy, even if your magic was strong enough this will prevent it" he said jerking at the metal collar.
Scar face pinned him down yanking his breeches in one tug until they pooled at his anckles, "Like this your almost lovely" he mutters his fingers tracing over his quivering thighs and the dark thatch of hair at his groin.
"Did you know fucking a boy, is not much different than fucking a woman?" he asked a strange glee overcoming him when Merlin stared back blankly. "A virgin are you, well then this is no harship at all" he dryly added, "no need to worry about catching something, then is there."
Merlin felt something sting at the corner of his eye.
This was happening, this was really trully happening and he couldn't stop it. He kept hoping that any second now Arthur would come charging through that flap, sword drawn and raring for a fight, but he didn't.
Scar face hefted his knees over his shoulder, his breath smelled like ale and he resisted. He pushed and kicked and bit, scar face growled shaking the bleeding hand teeth having dug into the skin between thumb and joint.
Two more men where summoned.
It salvaged a paltry scrap of pride that he had managed to fight that much at least, but, ultimately meant nothing. Scar face had his way plunging his cock within him as though it was some macabre torture device; not an object of flesh and blood.
More than the physical pain that leaves him breathless and shaking, is the mental sorrow tearing at him. It sickens him to the core that he's allowing this man to do with him as he willed, that he has no choice but to allow it.
They cannot know he is only a peasant in King Uthers court, they cannot know that Arthur is the true prince, they cannot know these things so he seals his lips with whimpers and tears and holds tight to the image of Arthur. He clings tight to thoughts of his prince where in this moment it is all he has.
Scar face is blotted into a hazy lump when Merlins vision blurs with silent tears soaking into the ground, his head turned aside from the man above him - in him - he thinks he might have called for Arthur but cannot be sure.
All he knows is the agony thrumming through him that tells him he's torn and bloodied, and the night has barely begun.
Scar face takes him three more times that night, and with each round he cries harder than the last. Scar face tells him to stop bawling like a girl, and he laughs until his stomach hurts and his eyes are sore and gritty with tears and he can taste blood in his mouth and feel it trickling down his thighs.
Its so horribly like something Arthur would say that he laughs even as something cracks inside, something beyond flesh and blood and he knows this is wrong - and that he may never be right again.
He thinks he might have scared scar face a bit with his laughing because he's tossed him out now, leaving him to pull up his breeches and scrawl back to Arthur who is laying face first in the dirt. He pushes him onto his back and tucks himself beside Arthur and lays still slipping away from this waking nightmare with the steady thrumming of Arthurs heart luling him into dreams.