Chapter Text
Uther smirked as he heard the sound of commotion in the corridor beyond. He knew the guards would wait until the right time, it had all been arranged. Seizing a fistful of hair, he yanked Nimueh’s head back, staring down at the sorceress kneeling in front of him.
He hadn’t just chosen her because she was the most powerful. She was also beautiful and defiant. For years she had been bound to him now, her magic forced into submission by the iron collar etched with runes fastened around her neck. The shackles that glittered at her ankles were more like jewels; Uther had had them specially designed to reflect her beauty rather than the thick, heavy ones that bound most sorcerers. They too were designed to keep a sorcerer at bay, but they were more than that.
Once they had been secured, the victim could only go where the master pleased. To start with, Uther had used them to keep her trapped in his rooms, not trusting her. He still didn’t trust her, but their mutual hatred had turned into something fiery and fierce. It made fucking her all the more worth-while and Uther knew she had spent so long as his prisoner and whore she had accepted it. She was loyal to him in her own twisted way, and that had meant he had given her more freedom.
Of course, the shackles forced the person back to their master when they were wanted. So if he returned from a long council meeting and she wasn’t there, he only had to think about it and she would be forced to his side. He always took out his frustration on her when she wasn’t waiting for him on those days and she often left him scratch marks in return.
But today wasn’t about Nimueh. There would be no denying the pleasure he would receive from it as he looked down on her, the expression on his face ordering her to open her mouth. She knew better than to fight and he thrust into the heat with a moan. He had to keep himself in control today though, he had to show he was serious. The grip on her hair tightened, wrenching her head back further and exposing the pale column of her throat. The collar was obvious against her skin and Uther smirked even as he thrust harder.
Then there was a knock on the door.
The king grinned; the timing was perfect. He knew how to break new sorcerers, he could do it better than anyone else in the land. How else would he have a high priestess choking around him without fighting back otherwise? And he knew first impressions went further than any words or threats.
“Enter,” he called, his voice slightly hoarse as he thrust again. He looked into Nimueh’s eyes, seeing them widen in understanding. She stopped sucking, her tongue ceasing its movements and Uther growled, yanking on her hair until tears of pain came to her eyes and she obediently went back to her task. He had this set up perfectly, he was not going to let his whore ruin it.
The guards entered. Three of them had a struggling youth pinned between them. Even though the boy was collared, Uther admired his spirit with how hard he was fighting, kicking out with every step and forcing them to literally drag him in order to get him into the room. He was around Arthur’s age, Uther decided in a glance, maybe a little younger. The iron collar stood out in sharp contrast against his ivory skin and defiant eyes glared from their framing of thick, black hair. Instantly, Uther’s mind thought about how it would feel having his hands running through it and his cock pulsed. Nimueh gagged.
The guards ignored their king’s position though, wrestling the youth into the corner. Once they had him on the ground, they made short work of pinning his arms behind him and shackling them there. They chained his feet too. Ordinary cuffs rather than the enchanted ones though; Uther was not to be the boy’s master. The cuffs had to be put on by the one who would own them. The men began threading a chain through the handcuffs and down to the feet, forcing the boy into a twisted, curled position that he had no chance of moving from. The boy had stopped struggling though, he had caught sight of the scene in front of him and his eyes had gone wide in horror.
By the time he realised what was happening, the men had him secured. They backed away, bowed to their king and left. The boy growled, a low primitive sound and for a split-second, Uther thought his eyes flashed gold. But then a high scream escaped him as his magic rebounded, caught by the collar and forced back into his body. Uther had forced Nimueh to describe it to him; the feeling of every nerve feeling as if it was on fire. The more powerful the sorcerer, the harsher the sting. The boy was panting, tears streaming from his eyes as he curled up tighter with a whimper. Uther smiled. This boy was strong.
He was perfect.
The thought caused him to spill with a roar. Nimueh didn’t even flinch; she was well practised at swallowing him down. He pulled out before she could clean him – the way he usually demanded – and wrenched her around. The boy’s eyes were horrified as he saw she too was collared. He knew she was a witch; he had just learnt of his fate.
“How powerful?” Uther growled. Nimueh looked at him.
“Please…”
“How powerful?” he demanded, throwing her towards the boy. Knowing she had no choice, Nimueh stretched out a hand and gently touched the collar on the boy’s neck.
“What’s your name?” She murmured gently, her voice kind.
“Merlin,” he whispered, his own trembling. Uther knew she would smile gently at him, just before both jolted with a shock. Nimueh pulled back, looking at her master with eyes wide.
“The strongest I’ve ever felt,” she whispered, her voice filled with both fear and awe. Uther sighed. He wished now he didn’t already have plans for the boy. A defiant youth with all that power would be a refreshing change; a chance to prove his worth as he broke the boy down and had him as obedient as Nimueh.
“Good. You should be honoured, boy. You are to be gifted to the Crown Prince of Camelot, my son. There is no greater honour than to serve royalty.”
“I’ll never serve you,” the boy spat. Uther looked at him coldy, walking closer. Inside, however, he smirked. He loved them defiant, although he had to wonder if Arthur was up to the challenge of breaking him. The prince had always been reserved in expressing how he felt about his father’s pets. But Uther saw the flicker of fear in his eyes when he stood over him, still hanging free. His member was swelling again and he saw the boy try to squirm back.
“You will do as you are told or the consequences will be severe.”
“Go to hell,” the boy was struggling as hard as he could against his chains. But there was a reason his hands and feet were joined; he didn’t have enough movement to even roll back a few paces. Still, he was trying and that was enough for Uther to step forward, letting his foot rest against the boy’s throat. He exerted pressure, just enough to force him to still and concentrate on his breathing in order for enough air to reach him.
“You will learn respect or I will beat it into you,” Uther said calmly. The boy was just that – still a boy; a child. No doubt the threat of a thrashing would be enough to still him. Uther bit his lip, his body betraying his interest in taking the insolent boy over his lap and spanking him. Merlin had stilled, staring up at him. Fear was slowly becoming more dominant in his eyes and Uther released him. He crouched down, running a thumb over the pouty lips. The boy snapped at him and Uther swiftly delivered him a backhanded slap that sent him slumping to one side.
He held out his hand to one side. Nimueh knew what he wanted, although her own hand was trembling as she pressed the gag into his hand. Uther fisted his fingers through Merlin’s hair, forcing his head upright while he used his free hand to press the wad of material into his mouth. The pressure pinned his tongue down; uncomfortable and sore. But satisfied it was in place, Uther wound another strip of material around his head, keeping the ball in place and silencing him.
“You’re lucky; my son’s blows are not as powerful as mine. But rest assured, you show him any disrespect and he will have you whipped.”
Merlin looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to glare or tremble. Uther chuckled, reaching up and uncurling another chain from the wall. Nimueh flinched at his side; she was often clipped to this chain when Uther wanted something more than just his bed. He attached it to the boy’s collar and stepped back. Silenced, shackled and secured. The boy was going nowhere. It was a perfect sight.
Uther stepped back and began stroking himself, forcing his eyes to stay open as he watched Merlin. What would it feel like to be inside the boy? No doubt his first. That would show ownership more than the collars; and remind Arthur that everything he had was only by the grace of his father. But Uther knew he couldn’t; he had told himself that he was going to gift Arthur with a sorcerer for his birthday, and it was hardly fair to have unwrapped the gift before giving it to him.
But the images in his head meant he needed something more than his hand. He whirled around, seizing Nimueh by the wrist and dragging her across the room. Her dress was torn off in one movement as her back hit his desk. His hands eagerly groped her, his fingers digging into her breasts as he forced her legs apart. He never prepared her; he never needed to as he shoved into her. She was forced to cling onto the edge of the table as her master rocked her hard, thrusting almost frantically. Even though his hands continued bruising her body and his lips drew blood as he bit down just above her collar, his eyes didn’t leave the boy.
Nimueh had been so well trained as his whore that she too received pleasure from his roughness. As her breathy moans began to rise, Uther rested his palms flat on the table and set up a fierce rhythm. The boy had his eyes shut, his head twisted the other way. But Uther could see how hard he was trembling even from across the room; he was definitely still a virgin. What would it be like to have him bent over the desk? He would fight, no doubt, and that would just make it even more perfect.
Uther came silently this time, pulsing hard as he spilled, his lips curled into a snarl. He pulled out, cleaned up and dressed, ordering Nimueh to stay naked. As long as the boy was in his chambers, Uther had a feeling he would never be satisfied and he didn’t want to have to battle with clothing every time he wanted his whore.
Still, it was only two days until Arthur’s birthday. They would keep the boy contained here and hopefully he would lose some of his stubbornness. After that, it was up to the prince to keep him in line.
Uther comforted himself with the thought that if Arthur wasn’t up to the challenge, he would just have to be a dutiful father and show him how it was done.
MMM
Merlin woke from a light slumber when he realised there was someone standing over him. He jolted, glancing up in fear. It was only a guard, although that didn’t mean anything positive for the restrained warlock. But although the King had never done anything more than slap him a few times over the last couple of days, his behaviour towards Nimueh had begun to embed a deep fear in Merlin. He had felt how powerful she was when she had touched him, and yet she could do nothing to stop Uther from raping her day after day. She was his slave, his whore, and Merlin had a feeling his fate was going to be no better.
He shied back from the guard, but couldn’t move far. His limbs were screaming for release. Having spent two days with his wrists shackled to his ankles, he would do anything to stretch out. Nimueh gave him a little food and water each day under Uther’s close watch before the king forced the tight and painful gag back into his mouth. Merlin couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to; the feeling of his magic being suppressed made him feel like he was going to vomit every time the gag was removed. It was only his need to survive that had made him swallow the food.
He was going to get out of here. Someone had to know the secret to the collars. Seeing how obedient Nimueh was didn’t fill him with encouragement; if she was firmly under control what chance did he have? But he was determined he was going to get out of here and for that he needed his strength. Not to mention when Uther saw him obediently take the food, his following blows were never as strong. It seemed being submissive was his key to survival.
Not that Merlin was going to keep it up. From what the king had said, his son wasn’t nearly as firm. Merlin would be able to find a way to escape the arrogant prince, of that he had no doubt.
But for now, he could only watch with wide eyes as the guard reached towards his chains. He unlocked the chain binding his wrists to his feet and then unclipped his collar from the wall. Gently – almost apologetically – he teased out the gag, took hold of Merlin’s upper arm and pulled him to his feet. The warlock cried out, cramp shooting through his legs as they buckled. It was only the guard’s grip that stopped him from collapsing.
“Come with me,” the man murmured, pulling him from the room. Merlin hobbled along the best he could – anything to get out of Uther’s chambers. Nimueh had just watched silently from where she was sprawled on the bed. No doubt she had been expecting someone to come for him, for otherwise Merlin was sure she would have raised the alarm. He felt dizzy and sick, and the pain each stepped caused made him wonder whether he would be allowed the escape of passing out. He had come close to it the first night; the shock of what had happened beginning to catch up with him. But Uther had made short work of throwing an icy bucket of water over him and jerking him back to alertness Merlin hadn’t dared faint since.
He tried to take note of where he was being taken, but the effort proved to be too great. All he could do was focus on placing one foot in front of the other so he wasn’t literally dragged. It was evening, the castle relatively empty apart from a few passing serving staff. They all avoided their gazes when they saw Merlin’s collar and he knew he would receive no help from them. It wasn’t anything they had against him, it was just that it wasn’t worth them taking the risk.
He almost stumbled when the guard opened a door and stopped. He let go and backed away without a word, leaving Merlin swaying on the spot.
“Well? Don’t just stand there, boy. Come in, let me look at you.”
Merlin forced himself to glance up, only to see an aged man standing in front of him, impatience etched into his face. Merlin tried to take a step forward, but his legs had decided they had had enough and he simply began to fall. He hadn’t even realised there was a stool near him until it was shoved behind his knees and a hand on his shoulder guided him down to it. The hand kept exerting pressure until Merlin had his head between his knees.
“Take a few deep breaths. That’s it. Now sit up…Slowly, boy, slowly! Here, drink this.” A cup was pressed into his hand. Merlin thought he should be suspicious, but one timid sip revealed it was nothing more than water and he drank eagerly.
“Who are you?” He managed to ask, the water helping to clear his head slightly. He looked up, properly studying the old man and the room this time. Books and parchment seemed to litter every surface.
“No one of consequence, but my name is Gaius. When was the last time you ate?”
Merlin could only stare at him, blinking stupidly. The old man tutted, reaching over the table and pulling a steaming bowl towards them.
“I’m supposed to be getting you cleaned up for the prince, but I doubt neither the king nor Arthur would thank me if you passed out through hunger before they even began.”
“Began what?”
“Eat your stew, boy, and learn not to ask questions.” The rebuke wasn’t harsh and Merlin was too hungry to think anything more of it. He forced himself to go slow, savouring every mouthful. He knew speed would only make him sick and there would be no telling when he was next going to be allowed a hot meal. It certainly wasn’t the best stew he had tasted, but the road to Camelot had been tough and his imprisonment so far had been terrified. It felt like the best thing he had ever tasted.
But all too soon he was finished. Gaius had the bowl whisked away and Merlin standing before he truly realised what the old man had said before. When hands began tugging at his clothes, Merlin recoiled.
“What are you doing?”
“You can hardly bathe with them on. Come on, strip.” Merlin couldn’t resist. Gaius might have been old, but he had a stubborn determination about him that meant he was persistent. Merlin wasn’t sure whether he helped or not, but before he knew it, his clothes had been removed and he was sinking into a warm bath. He groaned at the sensation and saw Gaius smile out of the corner of his eye.
“They never told me how I was supposed to clean you up,” the man murmured gently. He pulled a stool closer and began helping Merlin wash. When he insisted that he knelt up so he could examine more private areas, Merlin sank deeper into the water, shaking his head. Gaius looked sympathetic.
“It will be better for you, lad. Much better if you let me help now. Trust me.”
“No. No, you can’t,” Merlin whimpered, but Gaius’s hands were already on him. He cried out, tears of humiliation trickling down his face as he was examined. He couldn’t look the old man in the eye, even when Gaius helped him sink back under the water and disappeared to give him some privacy.
Merlin thought about just slipping down and letting the water close above his head. To let it all end and so deny the king his prize. But his body froze. He was still convinced he would find a way to escape, he couldn’t give up that easily. For his mother’s sake, he would continue to fight until he could get back to her.
“Out you get,” Gaius’s voice was kind and Merlin obeyed. The water was cooling anyway and the towel felt warm where it had been hanging over the fire. He dried and looked around for his clothes. They were gone; a long loose shirt being the only thing there. He donned it before looking around for more.
“Gaius?”
The man’s face was grave. It was as if some signal had been given because before he could say anything, the door burst up and three guards stalked in, the king following behind. Merlin tried to scramble backwards, but two of the guards took hold of his arms before he had gone so much as a step and held him fast. Uther strode up, first of all taking hold of his chin and tilting his head to the light. Merlin refused to look at him. Then he refused to react when the king’s hand slipped straight under the thigh-length shirt and took hold of him.
“Untouched you say, Gaius?”
“An innocent, Sire,” Gaius murmured apologetically. Uther squeezed hard for a moment, forcing Merlin to bite his lip in order to not react. But then he pulled away.
“Good. It’s time. Bring him.”
“Gaius? Gaius, what’s happening?” Merlin called, fighting to stay with the old man. He wasn’t sure if he was just a trick of the light of whether Gaius truly did have tears in his eyes as Merlin was yanked out of the room. The guards’ grip wasn’t gentle as they forced him along corridors in the flickering torchlight, following the king.
They stopped in front of a heavy oak door. Uther knocked lightly, then smirked in satisfaction when there was no answer and opened the door. Merlin gaped at the splendour of the room; it was almost as impressive as the king’s. But then his brain caught up with him and he began to struggle, realising this room must belong to the prince. He was being gifted right here and now.
The guards snarled angrily as Merlin fought back, but the third joining in meant Merlin didn’t stand a chance as they dragged him across the room and forced his arms above his head. The cuffs were clipped to a chain dangling from the ceiling, forcing his arms to stay suspended in the air. It made the shirt rise up a little and Merlin knew by the predatory gleam in Uther’s eyes it was only just covering him. But once he was secure, the guards bowed and left.
Merlin refused to give Uther the satisfaction of showing his fear. He clenched his hands into fists and stared at the opposite wall, forcing himself to stay calm. He could handle this. He would make them think they were in control, then he would make his escape once they had let their guard down. That was all there was too it.
Footsteps approaching, however, drew his mind from his planning. The door opened and young man entered. Merlin stared. He was young, tanned and well-toned, the firelight glinting of golden hair. This was not what Merlin had thought the prince would look like. Quick eyes took in the sight.
“Father? What is this?” His voice was pleasant despite his confusion.
“This is your birthday gift, Arthur,” Uther stepped up to Merlin, flicking the shirt up with one finger, exposing him even while his other hand stroked the collar around his neck. Merlin scowled at the opposite wall.
“I thought you deserved him now so you can start your birthday celebrations first thing in the morning by using him. I have the chains ready for you to shackle him with, making him yours.”
Merlin risked a glance at the prince. He wasn’t sure what he expected. But he did not think that it would be shock, pity and something that resembled horror shoot over the man’s face. Merlin frowned, trying to tilt his head to get a better look without Uther realising he was intrigued. But then the prince spoke again and Merlin knew everything had just become far more dangerous for him.
“No. I don’t want a gift like that, Father.”