Merlin Oneshots

My Knight, my strength

TRIGGER WARNING!!! MENTIONS AND DEPICTIONS OF ABUSE, IMPLIED/REFERENCED ABUSE. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. BLOOD AND INJURY, SO MUCH WHUMP. PLEASE DON'T READ IF IT COULD TRIGGER YOU!

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Merlin shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness, but it only made him nauseous. The guards glared at him with anger, resentment, and disgust in their eyes. Merlin opened his mouth to say something, and got a kick in his stomach and a punch to his head. He groaned and put a hand to each threatened area. He felt something wet in his hair and knew that something had hit him hard enough at some point to draw blood. He barely heard the snarl before a boot stomped on his face. Blood gushed from his nose and he scrambled back as much as he could, trying to put some distance between him and his tormentors. 

"You'll speak only when the King deems you worthy enough to speak." The man who had punched him growled. 

Merlin whimpered and tried to focus on his breathing. He vaguely heard the guards grumble something before hearing the cell door slam shut, the sound reverberating in his mind. The pain in his head was intense, and he was having trouble remembering how he ended up in this position. The last thing he remembered was … a hunting trip? They had been setting up camp … they were attacked by bandits … Merlin had been held and threatened to try and get the others to give up their fight. Merlin had twisted and fought back, not wanting to be the reason they were captured. He stomped hard on the booted foot closest to him, swung his sharp elbows into ribs and slammed his head back against another face, hearing a crunch and a howl of pain as he broke a nose. When the hand holding his hair released him, he dove to the ground and the Knights and King fought. 

Merlin took off his neckerchief to try and put it to his head to stop the bleeding while he thought. He had gotten away from the fight, and hidden behind a tree so he couldn't be used against his friends again. But, there was a sorcerer. They … they attacked Gwaine. Merlin saw red as Gwaine was thrown several paces and landed with a loud crack. He didn't know what happened next, only that the bandits and sorcerer all dropped dead as he rushed to Gwaine. He felt frantically for a pulse and once he was assured that he was breathing he felt along his spine and all his bones, assured the only thing broken was his left arm. He quickly wrapped it and breathed with relief when the Knight groaned, eyes fluttering. That's the last thing he remembers before everything went dark. Had someone noticed his magic? Had his eyes flared? That is the only reason he would be locked down here. They had discovered his secret and Arthur was debating with his council the best method to put him to death. 

Merlin wished he could be disappointed, or sad, or angry even. But all he felt was the ache of his recently inflicted wounds, and relief. His friends were safe, and he had served his King with loyalty and devotion. He eventually fell asleep, his hand pressed to the cloth leaned against the wall for support. 

He didn't know how long of a reprieve he got, but was awoken with a douse of cold water. New guards stood at the door, sneering at him, bucket held between them, dripping. Merlin spluttered and wiped at his face. As soon as he could see the guards he covered his head, hoping they would avoid hitting him there. They chuckled darkly at his response, and dragged him away from the wall. He was kicked, and punched, and stomped on. He felt his leg break but muffled his scream with his arm. They tossed a hard lump of something at his head before spitting on him and leaving the cell. They had been in there for nearly half an hour. He hoped that someone had noticed their absence and reported them. But he knew that if they weren't there, that someone could have guessed where they had gone. 

He whimpered as he tried to move his body back to the back wall. Part way there, he passed out from the pain. When he woke again, he managed to pull his belt off and grabbed a loose board from the pallet for prisoners and braced his leg. He couldn't set it on his own, but he could immobilize it. He curled into himself as much as he could in the corner in hopes he'd be left alone. Gwaine was safe. He was alive. He repeated this until he fell asleep, in pain, hungry, and thirsty. He wasn't hopeless yet.