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The war was won. Cenred had fallen earlier that day, slain by Arthur’s sword. His banners came down, and Arthur’s men had fanned through his camp, capturing Cenred’s loyalists and cataloging the man’s supplies.
And also searching out the man’s omega.
Arthur had retired to his tent to wash off the filth of battle while his second organized the remaining cleanup.
He’d only just managed to get wiped down and changed into fresh clothing when footsteps approached his tent. When the flap lifted, several of his guards entered, pulling along their prize.
Cenred’s omega was half-dragged, half-carried between them. The scent that wafted in with the party was sour with terror and edged by the beginnings of the heat triggered with the death of his Alpha. The omega’s legs crumpled under him when the guards dropped him in front of Arthur. He folded down into a ball by Arthur’s feet, kneeling but bent so low that only his back was visible, with his forehead pressed to the floor.
Arthur’s jaw clenched.
He had ordered the omega to be treated with gentleness, but the man was flinching from every guiding touch and cowering like a beaten dog.
“Leave us.”
The guards didn’t hesitate before obeying, retreating, and letting the tent flap fall shut again.
Arthur crouched down, lowering himself to the omegas' level. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and tipped the man’s chin up. A pale face streaked with tears was revealed, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Arthur sighed, using his thumb to wipe away the wetness of his cheek.
“Easy,” Arthur murmured, trying to broadcast a sense of calm and safety to the terrified omega.
It clearly failed.
The omega gave a violent shudder and folded back into himself as soon as Arthur’s fingers left his chin. Arthur let him. If the man felt safer in that position, then Arthur was loath to force him out of it even a second before he had to.
Arthur swept his eyes over him, studying. He was wearing the cloak of a Camelot knight, likely Percival’s, judging by the sheer amount of fabric. The only visible skin was that of his neck, and it was not a pretty sight. Cenred’s bite sat at his nape, badly scarred and inflamed as the omega’s body began rejecting the claim of the now dead alpha. There were finger-shaped bruises peeking around from the front of the omega's neck. Someone had strangled him badly enough that Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if his breathing was being interfered with.
The picture this man painted made Arthur doubly glad he’d finally been able to put Cenred down. The man had been a cruel king, and evidently a worse alpha. Even if the omega hated him, Arthur could take comfort in knowing he couldn’t possibly be worse than Cenred.
He wanted to wait for the omega to calm before trying to move him, but the man’s heat was fast approaching, and Arthur desperately needed to speak with him and try to get some water in him before it struck.
Arthur very gently pressed a hand to the man’s bony shoulder and nudged against him. “Sit up for me?”
The omega obeyed instantly, lifting until he was more vertical than horizontal. He stayed nearly half folded over with his arms wrapped around his stomach. Arthur sighed again when the tears started anew, forced out from between tightly squeezed eyes.
Arthur touched a waterskin to his lips, holding it steady even when the omega startled. “Drink. It’s just water.”
He opened his mouth just slightly, taking a tiny sip. The moment he realized it was truly water, his eyes snapped open, and he pressed forward into the waterskin, hands coming up to hover in the air like he wanted to snatch it from Arthur’s hands. He drank in huge gulps, tilting his head to chase the drink, not even pausing to breathe.
Arthur had to pull the water away when the omega began to choke, and the whine that escaped was pitiful.
“Slowly.” Arthur soothed, waiting for the man to catch his breath before returning the water, letting him drink again, but carefully and measured this time.
Arthur waited until the waterskin was nearly empty and the omega's desperation had calmed before he gently tugged it away and set it aside. He carefully caught one of the smaller man’s wrists, inspecting the raw rope burns that circled around his protruding bones. Arthur would have liked to tend to the man’s injuries immediately, but they were quickly running out of time.
“What is your name?” He tried to keep his voice low and soothing, but the omega still flinched when he spoke.
For a moment, Arthur thought he wouldn’t respond, either incapable of speech from the injury on his throat or paralyzed for fear, but after several drawn-out moments, there was a whisper, ragged and painful sounding, “Merlin.”
Arthur nodded. “Merlin. I am sorry that this is how we’ve met. My name is Arthur. I’m Camelot’s king.”
The name had the opposite effect he wanted. Merlin froze, whole body going rigid. Arthur quickly added, “It’s all right, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
But Merlin just tucked his arms tightly over his stomach, silent as the tent filled with the sickening scent of his rising terror.
Arthur rubbed a hand across his forehead, sighing. This situation was so far from ideal. Arthur never wanted to be the kind of alpha that forced an omega into a bond, but in this case, he really had no choice. The death of his alpha had sent Merlin into a reactionary heat
If another Alpha didn’t bite Merlin, this heat would almost certainly kill him.
“You understand what needs to happen, now?”
The omega let out a choked whine but nodded.
“If— If there’s another alpha you’d prefer…”
Merlin shook his head. Arthur sighed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. He shuffled closer on his knees, reaching out to catch the omega's elbows and lift him to his feet, “Come on, then. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you’ll feel better.” He guided Merlin to his furs but let go of him once they reached the sleeping pallet, letting the omega choose how to lie down.
Merlin dropped down, rolling until he settled belly down, arms tucked protectively underneath him. He shifted his legs beneath himself and then lifted until his rear was lifted into the air, ass presented in what was clearly a trained position.
Arthur closed his eyes for a breath. God, he hated this. He tried to take comfort in the fact that he would be a far better alpha than Cenred. Merlin would never want for anything ever again. He would heal and grow healthy, and if their bond resulted in a pup, the whole of Camelot would cherish the omega.
Arthur reached out, tugging the heavy red cloak away from Merlin’s form. Nothing lay beneath it. His knights must have found him already bear. Arthur’s fists clenched before he forced them lax again.
The sight was worse than he could have imagined. Old and fresh whip marks crisscrossed his back, a patchwork of color that ran down his spine to his buttocks and thighs. Bruises bloomed in all colors, and there was a deep purple bootmark pressed into the base of his spine. His spine and ribs were clearly visible, pressing through the damaged skin. This was pure cruelty.
Arthur vowed that the instant Merlin’s heat was over, Gauis would come and examine him properly.
For now, though, he had to act.
He touched first with just a single finger, pressing carefully at his entrance. Heat slick made it easy, and Merlin’s body opened readily despite the fine tremble of his muscles. Merlin’s spine arched deeper, but he made no move to shift away. The heat scent in the air thickened, beginning to drug Arthur’s senses, stirring his own arousal.
The omega was concerningly loose. Far too loose for someone whose Alpha should have been away in battle for nearly a week. Arthur filed away the suspicion, anger simmering.
He worked into Merlin gently, and with the other hand reached beneath, cupping the small cocklet and stroking until it began to leak. Merlin’s scent began to shift, terror finally giving way to arousal.
“That’s it. You’re alright.” Arthur whispered, petting his flank carefully around the bruises.
When Merlin began rocking faintly back into his finger, Arthur took the cue. There was no point in prolonging. He alighted himself and pressed in, slow and careful. Merlin flinched, but lay pliant. The angle wasn’t quite right for Merlin’s pleasure, so Arthur shifted, lifting the omega’s hips until his cock could press into all the right places with every thrust.
He slid out, then in again, rocking gently and stroking that small length. Merlin came once, quickly, shuddering hard, and then again immediately after, hole clamping down desperately around Arthur.
Arthur picked up his pace, mind muddled on the heat scent. His knot began to form, catching on Merlin’s rim with every push and pull. He braced an arm around Merlin’s waist and pressed forward, pushing deep until his knot swelled fully and locked them together. Merlin whimpered below him, squirming on his knot as though he was torn between pressing back and pulling away. Arthur prayed it was more the former.
He leaned down and gently clamped his teeth around Merlin’s nape, replacing Cenred’s teeth marks with his own.
Instantly, Merlin went limp. All tension melted from his body, and it was only Arthur’s arm under his hips that prevented him from fully collapsing.
Arthur’s heart twisted.
This was hardly a victory. It was not a victorious bond to be celebrated. It was just survival. Still, though, Merlin’s body quaked under him, orgasm shaking through him as his body instinctively tried to milk Arthur’s knot, tried to ensure successful breeding. Arthur petted him through it, avoiding his injuries and trying not to excite him again.
When his knot finally deflated, Arthur eased away. Merlin was spent, face pressed into his arm, the visible skin bearing fresh teeth marks where he had bitten himself to stay silent.
Arthur brushed the dirty hair back from his forehead, then stood. At the flap, he found Leon and Lancelot waiting, concern plain on their faces.
“Have Gaius brought first thing in the morning,” Arthur ordered. “And food — broth and soft cheese. Nothing heavy.”
Lancelot peered over his shoulder, looking into the tent, “Is the omega alright?”
Arthur glanced back himself at the figure curled up on his pallet.
“His name is Merlin. And not really,” Arthur admitted. “But he will be.”