A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.
Sorry for the late-ish update guys, I'm visiting some relatives at the moment, and like most relatives, they have rubbish WiFi. I don't know how often I'll be able to post until I'm home on Tuesday, so I just want you to know I've not abandoned you, the Wi-Fi just keeps dropping every 5 minutes before I can get a chapter uploaded and published. *Sigh*. Bear with me. Here's some quite strong Merlin whump to keep you going.
"I will ask you once again. Are you going to join me, boy?" The aging warlord snarled, scrunching his wrinkled features in Merlin's direction as he was unceremoniously dumped on the floor. The balding man, to Merlin at least, looked like a snake, his squinting eye dull and his toothy snarl poisonous.
"This again? Didn't I give you your answer enough yesterday?" Merlin sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes as if he were bantering with Arthur. The kick to his face by a large leather boot soon reminded him that he wasn't. As the copper tang filled his mouth, it was all Merlin could do not to spit on the man towering over him. His head was beginning to pound, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had something to eat or drink, his dry throat calling out for water and his head for quiet. Though he was unlikely to receive either at this point as he was pulled roughly to his feet, his hands fastened to manacles hung from the low ceiling. Magic suppressing manacles, etched with runes that made a part of Merlin want to curl up and die, it left his body feeling cold and his heart beating a little slower. He hated everything about the situation, how weak and vulnerable a position he was in, and how pathetic he actually was without his magic.
"I'll give you one more chance, sorcerer, help me take over Camelot and destroy King Arthur, or the results will not be pretty, I promise you that." The man – who Merlin had discovered was called Drin, though he was not going to humanise the man with a name anytime soon – spat. He pulled a knife out of his boot, still coated in Merlin's dried blood, and turned it over in his hand, a reminiscent smirk plastered across his smug lips. The warlock visibly shuddered, memories of last night's fun and games shooting across his vision, but if he was going out, he thought it might as well be kicking and screaming.
"Make me." His voice was low and unwavering, not an ounce of fear in it, which only served to annoy Drin even further.
"Oh I will." He slashed the knife across the rags that were once Merlin's shirt, letting what was left of them fall the ground. Merlin sucked in a breath as the cold air nipped at his bare torso, but also at the sight of it. Purple and splotchy, at least one rib out of place and covered in dark red crusty cuts, Merlin didn't know if he'd ever looked so broken. "Did some damage to you yesterday, huh boy?" Drin sneered, poking a particularly angry looking wound. Merlin fought back a cry as agony shot through his stomach. The cuts would be infected soon, he was sure, if they weren't already. "Since we didn't really make any progress yesterday, apart from turning your voice hoarse, we'll do something different today, shake things up a bit.
"Instead of simply asking for your... services, I'm going to get to know you a little better, and then get some of answers that I need. What's your name?" Merlin remained silent. "I do not have time for your games sorcerer. Tell me your name." Drin growled as Merlin stared defiantly at him, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a small grin. That was until Drin made a cut just above his popped-out rib. He grunted as the metal tore into his flesh, he could feel the blood trickling down his stomach which sent a wave of nausea coursing through him. "Name, now. Or I start work on those ears of yours." He held the tip of the knife dangerously close to Merlin's lobe, the boy squirming away as much as he could in his awkward, restrained position. Drin raised his eyebrows, the metal beginning to rest on the soft skin behind his ear, and Merlin screwed up his eyes tightly.
"Merlin." He croaked, admonishing himself immediately for answering anything at all.
"Merlin. I see." Drin considered this for a moment, as if he'd been expecting something a little more exciting. "Where are you from Merlin?" The warlock was not going to answer that no matter what. Any response that even had the faintest chance of hurting his mother was unacceptable.
"Camelot. The lower town." Merlin growled. He would say no more than that, which luckily Drin took as an acceptable answer.
"Must've been difficult for you. Growing up in such a hostile environment, and then working directly under the very man who'd destroy you without a moments notice." The man's pathetic attempt at sympathy still came off as cold and calculating.
"It's had its moments." Merlin attempted a shrug, which was nigh on impossible as his aching muscles protested any further movement.
"Tell me Merlin, what is King Arthur's biggest weakness?" Drin was suddenly up in Merlin's face, one arm clutching his throat, the other wrapped around his side, so the knife tip pressed sharply against his shoulder blade. He bit his lip until Drin began to push the knife further in, unable to contain his scream as it was ripped from his throat. "Tell me." Merlin looked straight into Drin's gloweringly dead eyes, groaning as the knife began to twist in his back, tearing at his flesh.
"It's…" Merlin started, gasping through the pain shooting through his shoulder.
"Yes?" Drin grinned sweetly. Merlin fought hard to keep his eyes alert and awake, the knife in his back sending a burning pain across his body as he had trouble focussing properly on the warlord.
"Arthur does have a penchant for throwing goblets at my head. I also believe he is a little touchy about his weight. Extra holes on his belt, I'm telling you." Despite the agony searing in his shoulder blade, Merlin chuckled humourlessly, even as a fist connected with his jaw. Hard.
"Is this some kind of game to you?" Drin screeched, and Merlin likened his anger to that of a dragon's at the moment, he could just see the man with smoke pouring from his nose.
"Could've brought some dice, made it a proper game." Merlin rasped. He would not give in, he'd keep pushing and pushing until he was dead or Arthur was safe and faraway from here. Preferably the latter, but Merlin never knew what he would have to do when it came to defending the King. His body was beginning to tremble, whether it was the pain or his body going into shock at how much blood he'd already lost, or a mix of the two, Merlin didn't know.
"You've a sharp tongue, I'll give you that. Serve me, overthrow Camelot, and I'll see you to an elevated position within my court." He pulled out the knife with a sickening pop, and Merlin heaved a sigh of relief as the pain subsided somewhat. Despite his gratitude at having the offending weapon removed from his body, he still managed a look of utter contempt.
"Never. I'll never whore out my magic to some oppressive tyrant."
"Isn't that what you do already? For your beloved King?" Drin sneered, causing rage to burn inside Merlin, at the mere insinuation that his protection was something inherently wrong.
"I protect my King with whatever means necessary, because he is worthy of such. I do not use my magic to save Arthur because I want power, but because I believe in our cause." The man only let out a harsh cackle.
"Your cause? You think he'd stand by you if he knew what freakish magic scum you are? Shall we test that little theory?" Merlin's blood ran cold, fear stirring in his stomach. Not yet, not like this. He needed more time, though to do what Merlin didn't know, but Arthur couldn't find out like this, under such duress. "You," Drin pointed at a cluster of guards hovering by the door, "fetch the King."
"No!" Merlin seethed, struggling against his manacles. He was suddenly winded by a punch to the stomach that left him gasping for air like a fish plucked from a river. Footsteps approached, accompanied by familiar grumblings, and Merlin felt his heart both soar and sink when Arthur entered the room.
And on that note... *evil laughter* I'll try updating soon but it's so difficult at the moment.
(P.s should this fic have an M rating? I don't know.)