Just a quick warning again about the rating of this being for a reason, I don't want to upset anyone!
And for those of you worried about Merlin's reaction - think of it more as him being shocked...now reality has caught up with him a little!
Arthur didn't move when he heard the door open. Why should he, they were going to do what they liked no matter what he did. He heard low voices murmuring, one sounding apologetic, the other angry. He refused to look around though, didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing the fear in his eyes. He couldn't help it, he had gone past masking the fear. He hadn't heard them sound this angry since his fourth and final escape attempt. Arthur attempted to compose himself as he heard footsteps get nearer, but when a hand grasped his hair, pulling his head back, he couldn't help but swallow hard as he found himself staring at Dunran. The man looked positively fuming.
"Leave us." He commanded to someone over his shoulder, and Arthur heard the man hesitate.
"I'm not sure, the boss wants him guarded."
"I'm here, am I not? I was promised an apology, now go." Unlike the voice he had used with Merlin, the sorcerer's voice was dripping with hatred. Whoever it was left, and Arthur felt the cord attaching his hands to the wall come lose before he was pushed down onto his stomach.
"Still think people are coming to find you, do you, princeling?" The man seemed insane, more than normal. He was driven by his need for revenge; it had become something of an obsession over the past few months. He placed his foot in the middle of Arthur's tattered back, and the prince's vision immediately waved until the burn brought him back to consciousness. He knew full well Dunran knew what the mark did, and he seemed to make it his personal mission of how many times he could activate it when he was given the prince.
Breathing heavily, but not making a sound, Arthur let his head drop forward. He could hear Dunran fumbling behind him, and before he knew what was happening, something cold and very solid had been forced in between his knees. Dunran fiddled with a few straps, lashing whatever it was to his legs and stopping Arthur from shaking it off. The prince felt himself trembling as he was arranged to Dunran's liking. There was a part of him that still screamed at him to react, to fight back. But his arms were lashed behind his back, and despite the majority of his legs being spread thanks to the bar, his ankles were still tied. He knew there was absolutely nothing he could do.
The feeling only intensified as he felt Dunran positioning himself. Without warning, the sorcerer's hands came down either side of Arthur's head as he pushed all the way in brutally. As Dunran set up a steady rhythm, his breathing coming in harsh gasps as he groaned now and again, Arthur let his mind go blank.
He wasn't here, he couldn't feel this...
A hand suddenly fisted itself in his hair, pulling his head back in time to meet Dunran's thrusts. If Arthur had anything in his stomach, he would have brought it up many times over, but as it was, he just squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from his eyes as he tried to keep himself grounded. Each thrust caused his hips to jerk forward, hitting the solid ground in front of him before he was jerked back again. It felt so much more real compared to when he was hanging. Apart from the cuts, he could almost guarantee he wouldn't be touched when he was in his cell, it was their way of keeping him alive. But whoever had tried to get him out had changed that. They had taken away the only form of respite Arthur knew.
Dunran was nearing his climax, Arthur could feel it as the thrusts got harder and faster each time, the man's breath coming in shallow pants. He could feel himself being ripped open, and yet he still did not vocalise his pain. Finally, with a long, shuddering breath, Dunran came, stilling for a moment before pulling out of the broken body. He delivered Arthur a sharp kick in the side as he stood up, but the young royal didn't react. His mind was closing down, refusing to accept what had just happened.
Dunran didn't let him stay oblivious for long. His hand once more entwined in the prince's hair and he jerked Arthur up into a kneeling position, spinning him around at the same time. His other hand grabbed Arthur's chin, forcing his mouth open. Arthur caught one look at Dunran's already half-hardened cock and shut his eyes.
He would not feel this.
Something nudged at his mouth, and Arthur clamped it shut. Only to have Dunran's hand pull down harshly on his chin again. This time, Arthur didn't have time to react until something hot and wet thrust past his lips, hitting the back of his throat and making him gag.
But that was as far as it went. Arthur could vaguely hear the sounds of Dunran flying off him, some sort of exchange taking place. Arthur paid no attention, letting his body take over and rolling back over onto his side. The burn may not let him pass out, but his mind had learnt how to zone out, how to take him far away from this place.
"Arthur!" There is was again, that same voice as before. A gentle, yet firm grip snaked around his chest, pulling him upright. Arthur barely noticed as the bindings and the bar were removed, his mind still blank. If he didn't think, he couldn't feel it. A hand rested on the top of his head, and for a moment, Arthur felt a blissful sensation wash over him, his muscles all relaxing as the darkness he had been denied for so long began tugging at his vision. Arthur didn't fight it, instead letting himself slip down into its welcoming embrace.
Only to immediately be pulled back into reality as the burn flared into life. He tensed, trying to combat the feeling of the dark magic. By the time it faded away, he was shaking. Subconsciously, he leant back on whoever was holding him, letting his head rest against their shoulder as his breathing trembled in an effort to calm himself down.
He had yet to put a name to whoever it was. All he knew that the man was radiating a sense of safety, a type of security Arthur had forgotten about. Without knowing what he was doing, and having no reason to other than the fact the man had pulled Dunran off him, Arthur found himself trusting the figure.
As he felt his body leave the floor, Arthur didn't struggle. Promises were being spoken that he hadn't heard in a long time, and Arthur knew he believed them.
"No! Arthur!" Merlin found himself thrashing wildly against the strong hands holding onto his arms as Arthur was carried away from him. Although he had been listening to what the men outside had been saying about what they had been doing to the prince, Merlin still couldn't believe the state he had found his master in. There were no words. Not only for the abuse his body had been through, or the magic used on him. But the look in his eye. The way he hadn't seemed to recognise his own servant, had tried to shy away from him when Merlin had tried to help him. He was vaguely aware of being dragged forward and pushed to his knees in front of whoever had given the commands, a biting grip on his shoulders keeping him down. But only one thought was crossing Merlin's mind. Was he too late? Had he lost Arthur?
"Who are you, boy?" Silence met the man's question. Merlin suddenly realised how much danger he would be in if they discovered they had the prince's own manservant in their clutches, so instead opted for staring at the floor, trying to get the broken look Arthur had given him out of his head.
"Not chatty, eh? We know another like that. Aha, Dunran? My apologies, my old friend." Merlin twisted his head to watch as the man moved forward, clapping Dunran on the shoulder as he whispered something in the sorcerer's ear. The man nodded, and moved forward, hate burning in his eyes when he let his gaze meet Merlin's momentarily, and his face twisted into a leer. Merlin knew in that instant he had to get to Arthur.
Before he could do so, a strong hand caught his chin, forcing him to look up at the man who had been giving the instructions to the first timers about how to treat the prince. "What are you, some sort of druid? A few of them tried to break him out, some misguided thoughts about a destiny or something. Their attempts didn't last long when we sent the last two back. In pieces."
Merlin felt sick again.
"But who do we send you back to, hmm? But then again," the man paused, tilting Merlin's head in the light thoughtfully. "We could use someone like you. Bit of a warm up act for those we have to hold back from killing him. No matter if you die, you aren't the target."
"Go to hell," Merlin snarled, shaking himself to try and rid himself of the biting grip on his shoulders. To his dismay, the man merely laughed, nodding at the men holding the warlock. They moved as one, pulling Merlin to his feet. His mind racing furiously, Merlin allowed himself to be bundled out into the main room, the voices going quiet as they stared at the strange party.
"Gents. Bonus offer for you. The prince's little saviour." So saying, the men pushed Merlin forward, and immediately, the crowds closed in around him, jeering. Merlin tried to fight them off, but there were too many of them. He shuddered at the feelings of their hands, everywhere. As one man pushed him forward onto all fours, Merlin let his magic build up. Before he could release it however, a hand entwined in his hair, jerking his head up to face his attacker.
"I know you." The voice muttered, and it was as if someone had cast a silencing spell over the room. A few people stepped back in surprise, and if Merlin wasn't deceived, concern. "You're the prince's servant, the kid always following him everywhere."
The man who had stopped Merlin from freeing the prince laughed, long and cold. "Seems you'll even follow him into hell. Don't you worry, you've got some catching up to do..."
"Wait." This voice sounded commanding, although Merlin could definitely detect a flicker of fear coming through. Another man moved forward, pushing the first none too gently to the side and gripping Merlin's chin in his hand. Even from his unusual position, Merlin could make out the druid symbol tattooed on his arm. The man stumbled back in horror when he met Merlin's eyes.
"Out! Everyone out!" The panicked yell was enough to make Merlin smirk as he climbed to his feet, power being radiated from him. "He's not just a mere servant. He's Emrys!"
All of the sorcerers in the room seemed to take a collective step back, a few even running for the door. The bandits just traded confused looks.
"Who?" One asked bluntly. Merlin smirked darkly as he locked eyes with the man who had announced it, an eyebrow raised as he dared the man to say it. He swallowed nervously, taking a tentative step backwards, unable to look away from Merlin's piercing gaze.
"The warlock of prophecy. He is to help the Once and Future King unite all of Albion." The bandits continued to look blank, magical prophecies being beyond their understanding. The man seemed to sense this, despite the fact he couldn't tear his eyes away from Merlin's ever darkening gaze. He swallowed hard before continuing. "The most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth."
"And we have him in our grasp?"
"Don't you understand, no one has him in their grasp." The man's voice trailed off as he took in the lingering smirk on Merlin's face. Right now, he couldn't be more right. It wasn't Merlin standing in front of him. It was Emrys. The warlock had a destiny to protect, and these people were standing in the way.
"Videlicet cella illae spurcamen!" Merlin's arms were thrown out to the side as his eyes turned gold, magic being flung from him in a great wind. Men were sent flying. A few managed to escape out of the door, preferring to risk their chances with the forest than stay and take on Merlin's fury. Bodies hit the walls, sliding down to not rise again. Instead of fading back to their normal blue, Merlin's eyes remained pure gold.
He turned in time to see one of the men disappearing down a side door, and almost gracefully, he followed. He looked unearthly, almost seeming to float along as magic continued to pour from him. He couldn't pull it back in, and as Arthur's broken look swam before his vision once more, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The man was his best friend, and these people had reduced him to this. Anything that got even close to coming in his way was thrown violently to the side, and as Merlin reached the door he knew the man had hurried through, it was torn from its hinges.
The man he was following was tossed to one side as Merlin's golden eyes snapped to Dunran, pulsing even more when he took in the positioning of the man, especially considering the way his britches were tangled around his knees. One hand outstretched, and without a word being said, the sorcerer was lifted into the air. His hands scrabbled for his neck, his eyes growing wide with fear as he struggled to draw in a breath.
"How..?" He managed to gasp, attempting to question how Merlin was performing such a powerful magic, and yet was not uttering a word. Merlin's outstretched hand tightened as he clenched his fist and Dunran took one long gasp before his head lolled forward. Merlin wasn't even sure whether he was dead or just unconscious, but he tossed the sorcerer away to one side.
"Arthur!"
As Arthur was finally revealed to him once more, the gold immediately vanished. Blue shot back into his eyes as they filled with tears.
"Arthur..." His voice was a mixture between a choke and a sob as he stumbled forward, dropping to his knees next to the prince. He knew no one would challenge him now. He just had to find a way of getting Arthur out of here without hurting him even more. It was not going to be easy.
Sliding his hand around the prince's chest, Merlin let his eyes flash as he whispered a word under his breath, and automatically found himself able to take the prince's weight without a struggle. That wasn't the issue, however. With nearly every inch of him covered in some sort of sores, holding him was going to be harder.
Merlin gently rolled Arthur over, pulling away the bindings with shaking fingers and removing the cold bar from between his legs. Lifting him into a sitting position so that he didn't put any weight on his back, Merlin let his hand rest on top of his head. Maybe if Arthur wasn't conscious, it would make things easier...
He breathed a word silently, and let the trickle of magic escape from him, the movement mirroring the tears running down his face. The magic hit the prince, and instantly, Merlin felt his body relax. Only to violently tense again, his muscles practically shaking as he felt more than anything Arthur hold in the pain.
He moved forward, intending to take a look at the prince's face. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the burn even as it faded back to its normal colour. Merlin swallowed hard at the power of the magic. Looked like he was just going to have to see how much magic he could get away with having the prince conscious. Considering there hadn't yet been a flicker of recognition in Arthur's eyes, Merlin knew he would have a lot more leeway than normal.
Hating the fact that he knew this was going to hurt the prince, he stood up. Another flash of his eyes and he lifted Arthur easily, draping him over his shoulder. He hesitated before folding his arm across Arthur's legs. He could see the angry welts, and didn't want to pain him anymore. But he also knew he had no choice. He would deal with Arthur's pain afterwards. Right now, they had to get out of here.
With the help of the magic and sheer dumb luck, Merlin managed to get them back to his horse. The men in the building had either been unconscious – or worse, part of his mind viscously informed him – or had immediately shied away from his approach, despite the fact that he had the prince on his back. A whispered word sent a stream of magic ahead, and the dense undergrowth Merlin had struggled through before was disintegrated to nothing more than a few weeds.
Even with the use of his magic, Merlin's arms were trembling when he finally lowered Arthur to the ground, making sure to rest him on his stomach rather than his back. He angrily dashed away the tears once more building in his eyes as Arthur hid his face away, clearly expecting something harsh to come. Considering what he had heard and what he had walked in on Dunran doing, Merlin wasn't surprised.
It was only then that Merlin realised the prince was completely naked, covered in wounds from head to toe. Some looked older than others, and the warlock knew this had been going on since day one of his disappearance. He had one hand resting comfortingly on the back of Arthur's head, and reluctant to move, he simply flashed his eyes and his bag came floating over from where his horse stood picketed.
The first thing he drew out was his blanket. He draped it over the prince's lower half, making sure it didn't touch his back. The marks on his legs, whilst angry and sore, had not broken the skin, so Merlin was content to let the blanket cover him. Next he pulled out numerous phials of salves and potions Gaius thought he might have needed.
Turning away from the prince, he quickly built up a fire, setting aside some of the dried food he had brought with him. It was going to be a long night, and Merlin knew he needed his strength. He had to stay awake!
The warmth flickering beside him, he turned back to Arthur. Starting on one shoulder, he gently began cleaning some of the wounds. The dressings he had were only limited, meaning he was trying to save them for the worst wounds. His magic helped a little, but it was not an area he was practised in, and whilst it was being a help at bringing him what he needed, he was reluctant to try it on Arthur. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse.
Despite violently flinching and jerking away more than once, Arthur remained conscious the whole time. Merlin knew he had to do something about the burn inflicted on his friend, but his mind was drawing a blank at what.
What concerned the warlock even more however, was that Arthur stayed silent. It didn't matter if Merlin pushed down too hard on an exposed cut, or his hand brushed against the wounds on his back. Not once did the prince make a sound.