Warnings: noncon, dubcon, slavery, violence, blood, Bailieboro please don't read! I had written this as anon some long time ago.




The spoils of war.

It was one of the things Arthur enjoyed most about combat.

That, by the end of it, he sat on another King's throne; sipped another King's wine.

Claimed another King's son.

The conquered in question sat at King Arthur's feet. His hands were bound behind him, and a thin metal collar circled his neck, keeping his magic chained within him.

Arthur had planned to use him for his magic, eventually - once he was broken and trained. The monarch had heard the songs, the praises - all of the prophesies surrounding him and the sorcerer named Emrys. He drank in every word, clung to every story since his youth.

The day he first learned who Emrys was, Arthur knew he could not hesitate to take and claim the warlock destined to give him all of Albion - everything he had wanted.

But, for now he had other uses in mind.

He ran his fingers through the mage's dark hair, like he was a pet. Studied Merlin's features. He wanted to see how his latest prize would react, as he was forced to kneel beside his conqueror; his parent's murderer. What sort of emotion would show on his pale face as the coronation began, as all the nobility pledged themselves to their new ruler, as they once pledged fealty to his own parents.

Arthur wanted to learn Merlin's emotions, so that he would know how quickly he would break him.

Arthur would recall later that Merlin's eyes shone with the same hurt and betrayal - fear - as they would when Arthur claimed him that night.

Only, that time he screamed.

He wailed so much; his eyes shed so many tears.

The noise never ceased as Arthur rocked him against the mattress, moving in and out of the writhing, hysterical boy underneath; and he drank in every wonderful second of it.

They were always the noisiest the first night; all of Arthur's sorcerers were. He did not expect Merlin to be any different.

Merlin did not scream nearly as much the second time Arthur took him.

To Arthur's great amusement, Merlin tried to defend himself from his inevitable fate. It was a few days later, in the dinning hall after all the guests had left. Arthur had displayed him like a trophy, the younger male led in by a chain, forced to kneel on the floor. The red frock Merlin wore, the color of Arthur's glorious and righteous kingdom, barely clung onto his form.

The King smiled as he watched Merlin hold a broken piece of glass, steady as if it were a sword, daring the monarch to try to touch him again.

His eyes were cold and determined; focused and hopeful. Arthur would love to break that gaze.

Of course, the King overpowered him, taking the piece of glass from his small hands. He was born physically weaker for a reason, allowing Arthur to easily take control if required for his destiny.

He held the warlock down on the table, dishes and food crashing to the ground as the ruler moved aside this mornings breakfast to the floor, eager for his dessert.

He held those small alabaster wrists in his one larger hand, carefully cutting the boy's skin with the shard of glass.

Down his chest - Merlin hisses as the glass lightly moved over his nipple - and over his stomach. A beautiful red line began to form down the body white as snow; a stark contrast to the red liquid.

When the boy's eyes refused to break, Arthur moved his hand under the youth's backside. A beautiful scream burst from him once Arthur shoved the piece of glass up the tight hole, twisting and turning it roughly.

"Your magic will be mine, Emrys," he crooned, replacing the glass with something thicker and nonetheless just as terrible inside.

Unfortunately, Arthur is too skilled for the fun to last long.

It was only a matter of months before Merlin finally broke. No longer did he scream or spit at the ruler; not a curse escaped those lips on that beautiful face.

He obeyed every command like a dog; like the sorcerer Arthur moulded him to be. He no longer fought when the monarch took him, the powerful Emrys dropping to his knees the instant the order is given.

Another sorcerer in the Arthur's collection.

Emrys; he had finally conquered his key to destiny.

Slowly Camelot's territory expanded, his army conquering the lands as efficiently as he had captured and broken Merlin. Such small, pale hands and soft lips that could pump and suck and moan wculd also weave such deadly spells.

It wasn't long before Arthur ruled all of Albion, obtaining more wealth and glory than he could ever wish to obtain.

But, he had found he no longer wanted those things, anymore.

Arthur had discovered what he desired, longed for day after day, he had already shattered into pieces.

He ran his hands through the sorcerer's raven hair, the youth kneeling obediently by his side on the floor. He was always there when the King required him. He was there when he wasn't needed, as well.

Arthur broke him too well.

Merlin no longer screamed, no longer yelled; those blue eyes held nothing in them, simply lifeless blue waters that accepted and performed all of Arthur's commands.

Arthur wanted the other warlock back. Desired, lusted after the other man in his dreams.

Not Emrys, the silent, lifeless man. The powerful tool he had used for destiny.

His dreams were filled with Merlin, the emotional, determined, weak and collared Prince.

So, he began to mend him; the King loaned him to his wife.

Arthur sat and waited, day after day on his throne. Sometimes he would watch from the distance, as Guinevere held and healed Merlin slowly. Sometimes she told him stories, other moments she simply guided the empty shell of a man through the gardens. They were inseparable, the two of them.

Finally, Arthur's patience came to fruitation.

When Merlin became unruly and had to be collared again, Arthur enjoyed shattering him once more.

Arthur took in everything, from the younger man's screams, his tears, to the way his muscles clenched and fought against Arthur's thrusts. He did not hold the same fighting spirit as the original Merlin had, but Arthur had accepted long ago that the man would never return fully.

When the mended Merlin would return to the silent Emrys, growing more silent and submissive the longer Arthur cut and used him, the King loaned him to his wife all over again.

Arthur would wait, and watch.

Count down the days, as he sat on another King's throne as his borders gradually expanded beyond Albion. As he sipped another King's wine, served by another King's servants.

The Once and Future King was patient, as he eagerly awaited the re-arrival of his prize, and key to his destiny.

Reclaiming the long dead King's son all over again