Behind the Mask part 1
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Behind the mask - part 1
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: A drink, a seedy tavern as Arthur was chasing down rumours of a slaver in the neighbourhood, a slip into stupidity that he wasn’t proud of.
Warnings: talk of potential non-con but nothing explicit; foul language
Word Count:1151
Prompt: auction
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
------
It was humiliating, standing there naked for all the world to see. An iron collar chafing at Arthur’s neck, manacles, too, at wrists and ankles and a heavy chain fixing him in place. Off in one corner, the slaver was waxing on and on about how Arthur would be useful in the fields or perhaps, with proper training, even a fighter in the ring once he learned his place.
As if he couldn’t trounce any idiot willing to have a go at him. And as for the fields, Arthur would be off and running as soon as he was able. But not right now, not when chained hand and foot, and aching all over from the beatings. He wasn’t sure something wasn’t broken. His chest felt like it was on fire and there was sharpness every time he breathed.
It had been a rough few days. When he had come to, the drugs still pounding in his head and making him muddled, he demanded to be ransomed, that he was a prince and his father, King of Camelot, would pay handsomely for his release. The slaver, Trag, had laughed in his face, then punched him hard enough to send him spinning into the cold stone floor of his prison, kicking him in the gut for good measure. And every time, he protested, he got another beating.
He stopped protesting.
If only he hadn’t gone undercover. If only Uther hadn’t insisted he go alone and without any way to prove just who he was to the stinking slaver. If only he had brought his knights along instead of Merlin.
Not that he wanted Merlin anywhere within a hundred miles of the place. The man could give himself a concussion just tripping over his own feet and he certainly wouldn’t be any help. He would probably muck up any chance of their escape.
Besides, the very thought of Merlin at the hands of this brute made him ill. Arthur tried not to think about it.
Truth be told, Arthur didn’t know where Merlin was, if he’d been captured, too, or just sold straight away. They had eaten the same food and the mead Merlin drunk could just as easily been drugged.
Arthur could only hope that Merlin was even now on his way back to Camelot, intent on rescue. He would need back-up, he would need the knights to overwhelm the slaver’s thugs, he would need-
“Twenty gold coins for him?” At that, Arthur looked up. In the distance, he could see a man, cloaked in green, sneering at the slaver. “He wouldn’t last a day in the arena. And by the looks of him, he’s not smart enough to keep his mouth shut and avoid getting beaten.
Probably gave you lots of trouble, too.” As he got closer, the man shook his head. “Looks like he hasn’t worked a day in his life. Soft and useless.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. Soft, indeed. He’d show them all just how soft he was.
Trag scowled down at the man. “If you don’t want him, plenty will. He’s pretty for all that.”
With that, the other man snickered. “I suppose he might please the ladies, but I would want a real, rough-tough man, someone who could take my abuse and thank me for it once he knew I wasn’t putting up with his airs. This one, he’d probably prattle on about how badly I treat him, morning, noon, and night.”
Arthur couldn’t help himself. “As if I’d let you touch me, you swine. I am a-”
His cheek exploded in pain the next moment and he fell onto one knee, glaring up at Trag.
“I should cut out your tongue, you stupid fool. Now shut up or there will be worse for you,” Trag snarled at him.
The man in green was there, looking at Arthur, a flash of concern in his blue eyes.
For a second, he thought it might be Merlin. It would be just like his idiot manservant to throw himself into danger without a single thought about how to get out of the mess when he was inevitably discovered.
But it wasn’t Merlin after all. Instead of familiar features, the man had a bulbous nose and a face half-ruined, and when his smile turned feral, Arthur knew he was in real trouble. Especially when Green-cloak said, “Some fire after all. And a tongue has many uses. It would be a shame to lose it.” He turned to Trag. “I’ll give you fifteen and not a copper more.”
“This is an auction, not a fucking tea party,” Trag snapped back.
If Arthur didn’t know better, he could have sworn there was fire in Green-cloak’s eyes.
Pointing to the crowd, Green-cloak said, “I haven’t heard anyone else desperate for such a poor-quality slave. You are lucky I am a fool enough to even consider this one.”
At least he was right about one thing. No one else bid on him, the crowd milling around, not even looking in their direction. In a way, it was an insult-surely, he was worth more than a few coins-, but Arthur was in no position to protest.
Trag grumbled a bit, but finally grabbed the purse Green-cloak was dangling in front of him, and said, “No refunds. If he dies, it’s none of my concern.”
“Fair enough. Keys? And you have clothes for him?” Green-cloak looked Arthur up and down, clucking at him as if it were Arthur’s fault he was naked.
Trag tossed the keys in Green-cloak’s general direction. “You bought ‘em. You clothe ‘em. I’m not some slime-toad charity.”
Green-cloak grunted, then unlocking the heavy chain keeping Arthur in place, pulled on Arthur’s manacles, starting to drag him away. But Trag wasn’t finished. Blocking them both, he said, “And leave the jewellery. You bought flesh, nothing more… unless you want to pay me for ‘em. Ten gold coins.”
Green-cloak sputtered, “Ten? That’s ridiculous. I could get a better set for half that in the market.”
“That’s the price. Business is business. No skin off my nose if you have no way to control ‘em.” Trag’s eyes gleamed with avarice. Slowly, deliberately, he said, “And recapturing runaway slaves ain’t just profitable. It’s fun. Holding ‘em down, making ‘em scream. Sometimes I let my boys have a go at ‘em. And if the slave has a new set of scars, well serves ‘em right.”
Greek-cloak grunted at that. He reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out some coarse rope, then before Arthur could protest, tied Arthur’s hands together. He seems expert at it because there was no give at all. Unlocking the restraints, he kicked them aside, down into a puddle of horse piss nearby, snarling as he said, “I came prepared, after all. Sorry to ruin your fun.”
Trag wasn’t happy, but Green-cloak ignored him and walked away, dragging Arthur behind him.
Title: Behind the mask - part 1
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: A drink, a seedy tavern as Arthur was chasing down rumours of a slaver in the neighbourhood, a slip into stupidity that he wasn’t proud of.
Warnings: talk of potential non-con but nothing explicit; foul language
Word Count:1151
Prompt: auction
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
------
It was humiliating, standing there naked for all the world to see. An iron collar chafing at Arthur’s neck, manacles, too, at wrists and ankles and a heavy chain fixing him in place. Off in one corner, the slaver was waxing on and on about how Arthur would be useful in the fields or perhaps, with proper training, even a fighter in the ring once he learned his place.
As if he couldn’t trounce any idiot willing to have a go at him. And as for the fields, Arthur would be off and running as soon as he was able. But not right now, not when chained hand and foot, and aching all over from the beatings. He wasn’t sure something wasn’t broken. His chest felt like it was on fire and there was sharpness every time he breathed.
It had been a rough few days. When he had come to, the drugs still pounding in his head and making him muddled, he demanded to be ransomed, that he was a prince and his father, King of Camelot, would pay handsomely for his release. The slaver, Trag, had laughed in his face, then punched him hard enough to send him spinning into the cold stone floor of his prison, kicking him in the gut for good measure. And every time, he protested, he got another beating.
He stopped protesting.
If only he hadn’t gone undercover. If only Uther hadn’t insisted he go alone and without any way to prove just who he was to the stinking slaver. If only he had brought his knights along instead of Merlin.
Not that he wanted Merlin anywhere within a hundred miles of the place. The man could give himself a concussion just tripping over his own feet and he certainly wouldn’t be any help. He would probably muck up any chance of their escape.
Besides, the very thought of Merlin at the hands of this brute made him ill. Arthur tried not to think about it.
Truth be told, Arthur didn’t know where Merlin was, if he’d been captured, too, or just sold straight away. They had eaten the same food and the mead Merlin drunk could just as easily been drugged.
Arthur could only hope that Merlin was even now on his way back to Camelot, intent on rescue. He would need back-up, he would need the knights to overwhelm the slaver’s thugs, he would need-
“Twenty gold coins for him?” At that, Arthur looked up. In the distance, he could see a man, cloaked in green, sneering at the slaver. “He wouldn’t last a day in the arena. And by the looks of him, he’s not smart enough to keep his mouth shut and avoid getting beaten.
Probably gave you lots of trouble, too.” As he got closer, the man shook his head. “Looks like he hasn’t worked a day in his life. Soft and useless.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. Soft, indeed. He’d show them all just how soft he was.
Trag scowled down at the man. “If you don’t want him, plenty will. He’s pretty for all that.”
With that, the other man snickered. “I suppose he might please the ladies, but I would want a real, rough-tough man, someone who could take my abuse and thank me for it once he knew I wasn’t putting up with his airs. This one, he’d probably prattle on about how badly I treat him, morning, noon, and night.”
Arthur couldn’t help himself. “As if I’d let you touch me, you swine. I am a-”
His cheek exploded in pain the next moment and he fell onto one knee, glaring up at Trag.
“I should cut out your tongue, you stupid fool. Now shut up or there will be worse for you,” Trag snarled at him.
The man in green was there, looking at Arthur, a flash of concern in his blue eyes.
For a second, he thought it might be Merlin. It would be just like his idiot manservant to throw himself into danger without a single thought about how to get out of the mess when he was inevitably discovered.
But it wasn’t Merlin after all. Instead of familiar features, the man had a bulbous nose and a face half-ruined, and when his smile turned feral, Arthur knew he was in real trouble. Especially when Green-cloak said, “Some fire after all. And a tongue has many uses. It would be a shame to lose it.” He turned to Trag. “I’ll give you fifteen and not a copper more.”
“This is an auction, not a fucking tea party,” Trag snapped back.
If Arthur didn’t know better, he could have sworn there was fire in Green-cloak’s eyes.
Pointing to the crowd, Green-cloak said, “I haven’t heard anyone else desperate for such a poor-quality slave. You are lucky I am a fool enough to even consider this one.”
At least he was right about one thing. No one else bid on him, the crowd milling around, not even looking in their direction. In a way, it was an insult-surely, he was worth more than a few coins-, but Arthur was in no position to protest.
Trag grumbled a bit, but finally grabbed the purse Green-cloak was dangling in front of him, and said, “No refunds. If he dies, it’s none of my concern.”
“Fair enough. Keys? And you have clothes for him?” Green-cloak looked Arthur up and down, clucking at him as if it were Arthur’s fault he was naked.
Trag tossed the keys in Green-cloak’s general direction. “You bought ‘em. You clothe ‘em. I’m not some slime-toad charity.”
Green-cloak grunted, then unlocking the heavy chain keeping Arthur in place, pulled on Arthur’s manacles, starting to drag him away. But Trag wasn’t finished. Blocking them both, he said, “And leave the jewellery. You bought flesh, nothing more… unless you want to pay me for ‘em. Ten gold coins.”
Green-cloak sputtered, “Ten? That’s ridiculous. I could get a better set for half that in the market.”
“That’s the price. Business is business. No skin off my nose if you have no way to control ‘em.” Trag’s eyes gleamed with avarice. Slowly, deliberately, he said, “And recapturing runaway slaves ain’t just profitable. It’s fun. Holding ‘em down, making ‘em scream. Sometimes I let my boys have a go at ‘em. And if the slave has a new set of scars, well serves ‘em right.”
Greek-cloak grunted at that. He reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out some coarse rope, then before Arthur could protest, tied Arthur’s hands together. He seems expert at it because there was no give at all. Unlocking the restraints, he kicked them aside, down into a puddle of horse piss nearby, snarling as he said, “I came prepared, after all. Sorry to ruin your fun.”
Trag wasn’t happy, but Green-cloak ignored him and walked away, dragging Arthur behind him.