Chapter Text
‘You saved my boy’s life. A debt must be repaid.’
‘It was nothing-’
‘You must keep your magic secret,’ Hunith pleads, cupping her face with hands that had seen a hundred harvests. ‘In Camelot you will be vulnerable to men and monsters alike, but you cannot save yourself with magic. It will be the death of you.’
His eyes linger on the pale blue of her dress and the tight laces of her bodice, his hand clapping on Arthur’s shoulder as he protests, ‘No, don’t be modest. You shall be rewarded.’
‘Even-’ Merlin stares at her mother in confusion ‘Not even to save myself?’
‘Your Highness, please, you don’t have to-’
Hunith presses a kiss to her forehead. ‘You’re clever. You can use your nails and your elbows like the rest of us. Anything but magic, Merlin. Anything.’
‘No, absolutely. This merits something special.’
‘But Mother!’ Merlin exclaims, desperate, pleading.
‘No, Merlin. I do not want to hear another word.’
Uther sways, still in shock that his son was so close to being assassinated. Merlin, for a moment, wonders if she shall be granted permission to apprentice under Gaius officially, a budding hope rising within her chest as she imagines what it will be like to be recognised by the Crown.
‘If Your Highness wills it,’ she says, smiling as the thrill of relief surges beneath her skin.
It’s far from the goodbye she expects, but Merlin is no ordinary commoner. Magic flows through her like sweet honey, always there, always breathing life into the ground beneath her feet and bending to her will, like she is some young goddess. Her mother’s human fears seem so impossible when she has magic to defend herself with.
But Hunith says she cannot. She must not.
‘You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household. You shall be my personal maidservant.’
‘Anything but magic, Merlin. Anything.’
His chambers are dark, except the flickering of the hearth. Merlin, unsure and beside herself with nerves, curtsies low when the king turns to face her.
‘My lord.’
‘What is your name, girl?’ Uther asks her, gesturing for her to stand.
‘Merlin,’ she says, dusting off her skirt. His lip twitches and Merlin forces herself to stay still. ‘What will be my duties, sire?’
‘I have all the castle for those chores,’ he says, the first ripple of uncertainty flowing through her as he steps forwards, walking a circle around her. ‘Though propriety will remain, of course. You will deliver my meals and assist me in dressing and bathing. Otherwise, I expect you every evening at my leisure and in the daylight hours to assist Gaius, as previously arranged.’
‘Propriety?’ Merlin whispers, before feeling his hand at her waist, dragging across her stomach to the laces holding her dress up. Merlin steps back, but the king grasps the blue fabric tight, his eyes boring into hers.
‘I am the king,’ he says, ‘and while my heart remains with my late wife, I have needs—needs you will see to as I please.’
‘Do I get a say in this?’ Merlin asks him, knowing she does not.
‘It is an honour to serve the crown in such a manner,’ he says, before another hand joins the first. He undoes the laces of her bodice, letting it fall loose enough that her dress starts to slip, shoulders coming into view. Merlin trembles when he cups her face, leaning in to press their lips together.
‘As a gift to you,’ he says, ‘I shall make sure your first time will be pleasant.’
What do you say to that? Merlin feels his lips against her own, pressing and unyielding, before his tongue slips between her teeth. She can’t contain a noise of surprise, adrenaline rushing through her veins as he pulls her dress down with one hand. Flailing, Merlin doesn’t know what to do, unable to stop the invasion in her mouth any more than she can prevent her dress from falling down past her breasts, now bared to the muggy, hot air of spring.
Uther pulls away, calmly removing her arms from her sleeve as Merlin stands there in paralysis, frightened of what is to come. She wishes that sex was something she knew. She wishes that this experience was not her first, like Uther somehow guessed. Her magic bubbles inside of her, but her mother’s instructions are clear in her mind. Anything but magic. She chains down her power, trying to find any way—any way at all—to get out of this.
‘We will undress,’ he tells her, ‘then go to the bed. I shall please you and then, the proper fun will begin.’ And for some reason, he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his teeth glinting in the firelight. Merlin doesn’t know what she looks like to him. Like a terrified peasant, probably.
Her dress falls to the floor, leaving her in smallclothes than Uther ignores, so he can take off his own shirt and boots. Merlin finds herself backing away again automatically, until Uther reaches out and grips her wrist hard enough to bruise, smile fading.
‘Come,’ he orders, half-throwing her towards his bed. Merlin trips over her own feet, landing on fine blankets and silks, the open shutters of the window letting moonlight trickle in to illuminate the bed on which she will undoubtedly lose her virginity on.
He comes up behind her, something pressing into her backside. ‘On the bed,’ he demands, lifting her up himself and turning her around, laying her out on her back. That’s when Merlin sees him truly, naked and hanging, not so long but thick enough that she can’t imagine how it will fit.
Her fingers scramble for purchase on the blankets as he pulls her smallclothes down, revealing her mound, his back bending as he kisses the inside of her leg. Merlin shivers in dreaded anticipation, watching in horror as his face climbs further north, until he buries it in her dark hair. Then something wet touches her. Merlin jerks violently, but Uther is already holding her down, his arms trapping her knees as he runs his tongue over her nub, sending electric tingles through her body.
‘Oh,’ Merlin says weakly, pressing her eyes firmly shut as he continues, dampness forming between her legs that doesn’t come from Uther’s mouth. Her stomach aches, pulsing as she starts to shake, trying to get her most sensitive parts away from the king’s machinations. Her movement makes him clamp tighter around her knees and before Merlin even understands what’s going on, she’s sobbing through a bursting high, her whole body thrumming with energy that still doesn’t quite seem to be released. It’s not even her magic, which writhes pleasantly, churning through her blood with a feeling of yes, more!
The king leans back, pleased with himself. ‘There,’ he says, before the mattress jolts—the king climbing on top of her, boxing her in. Merlin’s heart fills with ice, feeling his cock brushing against her legs. One arm holds him up by the right side of her head, while the other reaches between them, aiming his cock at her wet entrance.
‘Wait,’ Merlin says, ‘Wait-’
‘Unless it is to moan or cry out from the pleasure I give you,’ Uther interrupts, ‘you will not say a single word, Merlin.’
Merlin shakes her head, squeezing her legs together until he pushes them apart with his knee, the head of his cock pressing hard against her entrance. ‘Please-’ she starts, only for Uther to brace himself against her body, pushing.
Merlin gasps. She tries to get away, but Uther only uses that movement to push harder, his cock squeezing inside a tight ring which burns as it stretches, accommodating him in ways Merlin hadn’t thought possible. Tears stinging at her eyes, Merlin sobs in pain, gasping again as he keeps going.
Uther groans in pleasure, leaning his head against her collar. ‘So tight! Definitely a virgin…’
It burns. She feels him impaling her, a fullness she can’t pull away from. The part of Merlin that is her magic wants him away, but her mother’s words fill her ears. Anything but magic. Uther is the king—he will burn her if he discovers her magic. Merlin can’t do a single thing but let him fill her with his cock and his seed, the burn brightening in a different way as he pulls out halfway.
‘Please,’ Merlin sobs, ‘Please.’
‘So tight,’ he repeats, before pushing in hard, their pelvises aligning. Merlin feels a jolt inside, feeling horrified as she recognises the feeling as her own pleasure. He leans out again, pounding into her a third time and she keens. Uther laughs low in his chest. ‘There. I am the king-’ he does it again ‘-and you are mine.’ Again. ‘A tight cunt.’ Again. ‘A whore.’ Again. ‘Tell me who you belong to?’ Again, again, again. He orders her, ‘Tell me!’
Merlin sobs, the burn fading as the pressure in her stomach mounts. ‘Yours,’ she says, hating herself, ‘I belong to the king!’
‘You belong to the king,’ Uther growls, before he loses himself in the movements. Merlin raises her hips into his thrusts, over and over until she feels release, stomach twisting. Uther doesn’t stop when she does, however, keeping up his unrelenting rhythm until he abruptly stops and Merlin, for the first time, feels a strange release inside of her—revealed to be the king’s seed when he pulls out his cock, liquid dripping from the tip.
Merlin stares at the king. His brow shines faintly, sweat dripping down his face. When he sees her looking, he smirks and bundles his arm behind her back, hauling her into the proper position on the bed, so her head meets pillows.
‘You will be a good bedwarmer,’ he says approvingly, as if he had not backed her into a corner or allowed her to leave. His arm—strong, thick—holds her in place as they settle, the king breathing slower and slower, until he sleeps.
Merlin can’t sleep. Part of her is in shock, still and another is petrified of the man beside her. She is no longer a virgin, instead she is a whore to a king, his seed drying between her legs. What would happen, she thinks morbidly, if she came with child? Would he send her away? Beat it out of her? Merlin can’t imagine Uther being happy with any bastard off a servant girl.
But it is a good thing she never slept, because the king wakes after an hour and he presses kisses to her collarbone, his cock hardening again against her.
‘Hands above your head,’ he mutters. Merlin doesn’t understand why, but does as she’s told, lifting hesitant arms up onto the pillows behind her, not expecting him to reach up and press her fingers to the gaps in the bedframe.
‘Sire?’
‘Hold on,’ he grunts, ‘and don’t let go.’ He spreads her legs and—with no preparation at all—spears into her abused cunt. A heady ache makes itself known, pain from actions unsuited to her frame, while Uther pounds in and in. Merlin struggles to hold onto the bedframe, trying to ignore how his bulbous cock makes her wanton and breathy. She feels disgusted with herself.
Whore, she calls herself as he comes again, filling her up without question, then leaving her on the edge. Merlin is ashamed to want more, to feel finished, but when he lowers her arms down from where they’ve gone numb, she can’t help but reach below, Uther’s eyes dark with passion as he watches her touch herself.
‘Have I left you undone?’ He asks her, obviously knowing the answer as he presses two fingers into her hole. Merlin, who circles her nub with shaky fingers, jerks her hips onto the pair of digits again and again, her embarrassment a gaping void in her breast as she gets herself off on the king’s fingers.
When she finally collapses, panting, Uther only chuckles and lays down beside her, once more pulling her smaller frame against his own. Merlin lays her head on his chest, closing her eyes, even as the tears refuse to come. She feels ashamed, abused and broken.
The king kisses her hair, then sleeps.