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“Come with me,” Agravaine’s voice cuts through the silence and pulls Merlin from his thoughts as he is carefully pouring Gaius’s potions into flasks.
“Sire?” Merlin asks, standing up.
“There is a matter I’d like to discuss with you,” Agravaine says, putting on a false smile. “Follow me.”
He turns around without waiting for an answer and Merlin has no other choice than to follow if he wants to stay in his role of a dutiful servant.
While they walk, Merlin reaches out through space to confirm Arthur is fine on his visit of one of the Camelot’s nobles. Their estate is on the border with Mercia and Arthur wanted to make sure their allegiance will stay with Camelot by granting them an honour of being the one to perform a handfasting ceremony for their daughter and one of the knights of Camelot.
He left Merlin behind to help Gaius with an outburst of influenza that is troubling the lower town.
They enter the room Agravaine led them to and Merlin doesn’t notice the man standing beside the door until it’s too late and the man hits him over the head.
~x~
Merlin groans as he starts regaining his consciousness. Somebody stripped him from his shirt and he feels cold iron around his neck, wrists and ankles. He knows there is something else very wrong but can’t figure out what it is just yet.
“Finally awake then,” Agravaine says, his voice coming from behind Merlin who opens his eyes to find himself lying on the floor of the same room they entered before.
He is shirtless with his arms and legs free except for the clasps on them, but a chain is leading from the collar to the loop on the wall. It is long enough for him to move around the room, but it will stop him from escaping.
“You don’t have to try your little tricks now, warlock. Your magic won’t make it past the shackles,” Agravaine says and a cold dread starts unfurling in Merlin’s stomach as he realizes Agravaine is telling the truth.
But how did he find out about it? Where did he get the bindings? And most importantly, what is his plan?
“Stand up,” Agravaine commands and Merlin obeys but only to move to the wall to cover his back.
“You think you have any chance to escape or fight me?” Agravaine asks, stalking towards Merlin. “How about just being reasonable and telling me what I want to know right now. Do you intend to use Arthur as your puppet?”
“Never,” Merlin shouts.
“Then tell me, what is your plan here?”
“There is no plan,” Merlin says, watching Agravaine play with a dagger.
“I don’t believe you,” Agravaine states, crosses the last few steps of empty space and presses the tip of the blade to Merlin’s throat. “You’re powerful. Why would you spend your time doing menial chores without any sort of vision of future gain?”
“Arthur is a good man. He will be the greatest king Albion has ever known,” Merlin says, feeling the sharp sting where the blade pierced his skin, a few droplets of blood trailing down his neck.
“So it seems Morgana was right about your loyalty,” Agravaine muses, leading the tip of his dagger down to Merlin’s collarbone, tracing its shape. “But when I’m done with you, you’ll be eager to obey my every command.”
His smile is dark and ugly, the coldness seeping from his eyes.
“Get on your knees,” he says, stepping a few feet away.
“ No,” Merlin said.
Agravaine’s smile grows even wider and he grabs the chain, throwing it over a hook on the wall, a bit to the left above Merlin’s shoulder, and pulls, forcing Merlin to stagger to the side. He uses more of his weight to lift Merlin from the ground, leaves him standing on his toes as he gasps for breath and claws at the collar that is digging into his skin, blocking his airway.
Dark spots cloud Merlin’s vision. He’s sure he’s going to pass out any second, but then he’s falling to his knees, gulping in frantic gulps of air.
A hand on his neck. He is slammed into the wall, his head connecting with the stones with a crack, making him see stars.
“You will do as I say, boy,” Agravaine shouts and slaps Merlin’s face.
He lets go of him and Merlin slumps to the side, breathing heavy, trying to fight the wave of panic that threatens to overwhelm him.
“Get on your knees facing the wall,” Agravaine says and Merlin obeys this time to buy himself some time.
The chain is once again forcing him to straighten his back and he can see Agravaine looping it around the hook. He is completely unprepared for the first blow as it lands on his back, forcing a yelp of pain out of him. Then it’s a blur of pain as the riding crop crisscrosses the area. He claws at the wall to hold himself as upright as possible, the collar choking him once more.
The assault stops and the pressure on his neck lessens, giving him a chance to breathe, but it is hardly the end.
“Stand up,” comes a command, and Merlin manages to do so after a short moment of instability when his knees simply fail to support him. “As much as I regret not having all the time to focus my attention on you, I still need to attend the council meeting.”
He pulls Merlin’s arms behind his back, binding them tightly together with a rope.
“But I wouldn’t want you to get bored in here without me, would I? Drink this.”
He forces Merlin to drink two cups of water and pulls Merlin’s trousers down. Merlin presses himself to the wall instinctively. It only earns him a chuckle from the other man and a tightening of the chain leading to the collar. Agravaine finishes his work of undressing him and Merlin grits his teeth to stop the tears of humiliation from flowing.
“You will stand here and wait for my return. I have great plans for our night together,” Agravaine whispers into his ear, one of his hands fondling Merlin’s limp cock while the other forces itself in between Merlin’s clenched cheeks to rub around his hole.
He pulls Merlin’s neckerchief from somewhere and uses it to gag Merlin who is shaking in fury and disgust, calling for his magic that just will not come.
“You will learn to appreciate my attention,” Agravaine says with a smack to Merlin’s arse and moves away from him to open two of the windows, a gust of the autumn air running over Merlin’s naked skin, making him shiver some more. “Enjoy your stay,” is the last Merlin hears from him before he leaves the chambers, locking the door behind himself.
At first, Merlin tries to release his hands, tugging and screaming the spells in his head, but nothing works, his wrists only feel raw and he is losing precious energy. The chill is spreading through the room and Merlin tries to huddle to the wall to save as much warmth as he can, but it’s pointless. His back hurts. He’s sure angry red welts must be covering most of it.
As the time drags, light of the day giving way to the darkness of the night, Merlin’s everything is numb with the cold, his shoulders aching from being forced into the stiff position for so long time. Bone deep tiredness starts to descend upon him. He fights it, knowing that falling asleep could cost him his life, either from collar around his throat or the cold.
He wills himself to think about Arthur, the moments of their past, the vision of their future. He is needed here and only that stops him from sinking into the depth of surrender.
The rattling of the key pulls him from his memories back to the harsh reality of the disused guest room, a light of a torch blinding him after so long in the dark.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” Agravaine asks and Merlin stays stubbornly silent.
He lowers the torch to look at the ground beneath Merlin’s feet.
“No mess. I’m impressed,” he says, putting the torch into the holder on the wall and goes to unlock the door leading to adjacent chamber.
He unhooks the chain, dragging Merlin after him into the newly opened room. The shock of warmth is bliss for Merlin’s freezing body. He quickly scans the room, noticing the huge bed with obviously freshly changed linens, a steaming bath and a fire roaring in a fireplace. He is thrust towards the side of the room, the chain once more fastened to a loop in the wall.
Agravaine doesn’t pay him any more attention at the moment as he undressed and sinks into the bath with a groan, so Merlin allows himself to curl into a ball, as much as he can with his arms trapped behind his back, with his side pressed to the wall. He can’t stop thinking about what is to come, his mind providing him with flashbacks of the intimate touches from earlier, and Merlin wishes he could just wake up from whatever nightmare he is having.
A few painfully long and still too short minutes later, Agravaine emerges from his bath, toweling himself dry and pulling on a pair of trousers. He doesn’t even bother dressing completely and Merlin’s heart which had already been beating wildly in his chest speeds up even more.
Agravaine drags him to his feet and looks him up and down, rubbing his own cock through the fabric of his trousers, and Merlin can see it stiffening before he averts his eyes.
“Time to play,” Agravaine says with a predatory smile and fills a cup with water from the jug standing on the table.
He starts pouring the water over Merlin’s body. It’s cold and Merlin’s bladder is still so full. It costs every inch of Merlin’s willpower to not give in.
“You know it’s inevitable. Just let go,” Agravaine says, emptying another cup, this time over the sensitive skin of Merlin’s back.
“Let go I say,” Agravaine commands and Merlin shakes his head in protest. “I am your master and you will listen, you insubordinate whore,” he hisses and comes to stand behind Merlin in a parody of a lover’s embrace. He pressed three fingers over Merlin’s bladder. Merlin makes a muffled sound of protest, but he can’t stop the flow of urine now as it is creating a pool under his feet, traitorous tears flowing over his cheeks as his whole body burns with humiliation.
Agravaine pulls him towards the bath and before Merlin can ready himself, he is plunged into it and held under. When he’s pulled up again, he can’t breathe or cough out the water as the gag is in the way, but then it is removed and Merlin gasps for breath, his legs giving way completely, letting him almost go under again if not for the arms that catch him in time.
“Tell me, boy, who is your master?”
“Arthur,” Merlin rasps out.
“Wrong answer,” Agravaine says and forces his head back under the surface.
Merlin trashes around, his lungs burning with need for air, but eventually darkness descends and he lets go.
~x~
He wakes up lying on a bed with his hands tied to the headposts. His head is throbbing and breathing hurts.
“You’re making this much more difficult than it has to be,” Agravaine tells him, putting a knife and a jar beside Merlin before he climbs on the bed himself, straddling Merlin’s legs.
“It’s salt, in case you’re wondering,” he says, motioning towards the jar and Merlin’s eyes widens with fear as he realizes what is going to happen.
The blade is already sliding over the skin of his belly, not cutting yet, just playing with Merlin’s nerves.
After, Merlin won’t be able to say for sure when he cried out for the first time, if it was the moment the salt was spread over the cut over his heart or the one just above his bellybutton, but he knows for sure he screamed Arthur’s name and it makes Agravaine gag him again.
He is weak from pain and exhaustion when Agravaine finally decides it’s time for the main course, as he puts it, and spreads Merlin’s legs wide. He spits into his palm, wetting his cock just a little, and forces himself into Merlin, completely violating him with the vicious thrusts that follow.
Merlin’s chest hitches with silent sobs, his eyes unable to spill any more tears. He feels like all there has ever been is pain and wishes for an early end or at least a relief of unconsciousness.
Instead, the hot breath smelling of wine is washing over his face as the man above him nears his completion, driving himself even deeper into Merlin’s torn channel, the worst insults flowing past his lips. A warm liquid spreads through Merlin’s insides with a final grunt from Agravaine who collapses right on top of him a few seconds later.
The sting of the other man’s dick leaving Merlin’s body is nothing in the flood of pain, terror and complete humiliation Merlin’s mind is dealing with.
All he wanted is for it to be over.
~x~
Agravaine lifts himself from him, cleaning up the blood and semen from his cock and lacing his trousers once more. He returns to bed with another two pieces of rope, tying Merlin’s legs to the bedposts and then unties the gag.
“Who is your master?” he asks.
“Arthur,” Merlin croaks.
“I see you wish to continue,” Agravaine says, his eyes cold as steel, and retrieves the small bowl from the stand on the table, putting another one in its place above the burning candle. “There’s hot wax in there,” he says, swirling the liquid with circular motion. “And there’s more warming up right now.”
Merlin is staring up at the ceiling, not reacting. He tries to escape the pain as the first hot drops hit the sensitive skin of his armpit, but then the wax lands all over his belly and he can’t sustain the agonized whimpers as he feels as if he’s on fire.
“Your king’s not coming, boy. He won’t be back for days,” Agravaine says with a sneer and Merlin realizes he has been quietly chanting Arthur’s name through the waves of agony. “And when he does return, he won’t find you here. He’ll only hear about you conniving with Morgana, about your betrayal.”
Agravaine is back with another pot of wax, tilting it slowly above Merlin’s groin. Merlin can’t tear his eyes away. The coming pain is indescribable. He arches off the bed with a silent scream, his restraints cutting through skin, drawing blood. It’s too much for his body and mind to handle. He slumps back to the mattress, sinking into the calm waters of unconsciousness.
~x~
Next time he wakes up, he thinks he is still dreaming as he opens his eyes to find himself covered by a familiar red. Arthur’s cloak, he realizes when he first hears and then sees the man himself.
“What is the meaning of this?” Arthur yells at his uncle, sword drawn.
“He’s a sorcerer, Sire. A traitor. I was only trying to get information about his evil plans. I only want to help you, Arthur. We’re family,” Agravaine says.
“One,” Arthur says, taking one step closer, “I know he’s a sorcerer.”
“Two,” he takes another step, “he’s my most trusted advisor.”
“Three,” he presses the tip of his sword to Agravaine’s neck, “he is my lover.”
Merlin can see blood draining from Agravaine’s face.
“Guards!” Arthur shouts and two men enter the room. “Take him to the dungeons. No special treatment.”
“We’re no longer a family,” Arthur says calmly, and motions for the guards to lead Agravaine out of the room.
In a fraction of a second, Arthur’s demeanor changes. He crouches by the bed, running his fingers over Merlin’s cheek.
“Merlin,” he breathes out. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Merlin says, not sure the words are loud enough to be heard.
He feels safe again and the last thing he remembers before slipping back to deep sleep is Arthur freeing his limbs and kissing him on the forehead with a promise of never leaving Merlin again.