A/N: Finally, the sequel to Rememory! You have all been so patient! If you haven't read it, well, a history to this whump is helpful. It's not necessary, though, if you want a quick fix of whump. Just know you're missing out on some top-notch hurt/comfort. I hope you enjoy this, because I have had it in the works for a while now and decided I should just post it and relieve the terrible tension I caused by promising its delivery so early. So dive on in, and drop a review with your questions/comments/cries of distress for our boys.

"That's it, no more leaving the castle."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "We have to leave the castle sometimes."

Arthur turned from where he'd been testing the hinges of the door. "Really? We have to? I'd rather be seen as some weird hermit king than a dead one!"

"It's not every time."

"Often enough! Ambushes, bandits, kidnappers, sorcerers-" He waved his hand dismissively as Merlin was about to argue. "Evil sorcerers, Merlin, obviously not girly ones like you."

"Oh, so a violent sorcerer deserves to die, but a pacifist is weak?"

"Not all of them, just you."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you still haven't gotten us out of here, Sir All-Powerful-Warlock."

"I was drugged!"

"It's always something with you, isn't it?"

"Just move already."

Arthur stepped away from the door. Merlin took his place, stretching his shoulders and rolling up his sleeves.

"Do you have to be so dramatic?" Arthur pestered.

The warlock lowered his hands from where they were about to direct magic at the hinges just to glare at the king. "Yes, please make fun of me as I prepare to possibly melt my brain."

Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation. "Melt your brain? Must you be such a girl's petticoat about this? It should be easy!"

"I was drugged!"

"Yes, I know!"

"How am I supposed to use my magic? That potion's making it all…" He swirled his hand in the air. "Woozy."

"Just do it."

Merlin sighed and faced the door once more, holding his hands out in front of him. "Aliese." With the utterance of the spell, his eyes flared that amber hue.

As soon as his magic tried to flow to the melody of the word, Merlin's face contorted in shock, brows knitting together and lips parting for a split second before he gasped and crumpled to the floor.

"Merlin!" Arthur knelt at his side as the warlock seized. The king tried to hold him still, to no avail. He had no idea what to do. It was terrifying. All Arthur could do was keep him from hitting his head on the floor. Violent tremors made the thinner man's body jerk in Arthur's arms.

"Gah," The servant groaned, finally regaining some control of his body. Twitches still ran through him, but he managed to push away from the hovering king. "I'm fine, just… nnng," He moaned in frustration as he rode out a smaller wave, trying to get the shaking of his hands under control.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, feeling just as shaken.

Merlin looked up at him, then at the door beside them.

"Someone doesn't want me to use my magic."

He was tired. Very, very sleepy. Merlin's thoughts swam about noncommittally, his body groggy and disconnected from his leaden mind.

Wait. Something was wrong. He had to open his eyes, listen hard, know what was happening. He wasn't alone.

Now that he thought about it, he could hear Arthur. Not particular words, but he recognized the tone. Outraged. Righteous. Downright prattish.

He tried to speak, managing only a mumble. "'r'th?"

Someone else spoke now, someone closer. As sensation slowly returned to Merlin's bogged down bones, he could feel someone holding his arm. He couldn't pull away, though. He couldn't even open his eyes yet.

"... a minute to return to…" Sound was coming back too. Merlin was growing restless. What had happened?

"Merlin," The stranger said. He held Merlin's wrist a few more seconds, feeling the pace of his pulse. That made the warlock uneasy. He opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurry at first. He was lying on the floor, he knew that much. When his vision cleared, he saw above him the man who had tricked them on the road, appearing as a desperate beggar one second and attacking them with magic in the next. A tall, sturdy man, with a mess of ashen hair.

"Who 're you?" Merlin asked deliberately, determined to speak despite how foreign his body felt right now.

"You should take a moment to collect yourself, I fear the spell doesn't clear up right away."

"What'd you do t' me?" He could move his arms now. He pushed himself back, finding a wall right behind him. He maneuvered his unresponsive body so he wasn't looking up at the hostile man from a vulnerable position. Well, more vulnerable.

"Not a great deal. I just couldn't have you testing the efficacy of my magic-binding potion again. It would be most inconvenient if you did permanent damage to your mind before we could get started. Can you move your legs yet?" He laid his hand on the boy's knee, feeling for the convulsion of muscle there.

"Don't touch him!" Arthur barked from out of sight. When the sorcerer turned to look at the king in annoyance, he moved and Merlin could see past his form to where Arthur was stood flush up against the opposite wall. From his stance, Merlin figured he was held there by some kind of restraining magic. This man was methodical. It made the warlock all the more uneasy, knowing a spell had been cast on him and knocked him out before he was even aware of it. This man had complete control over them, seemingly effortlessly.

"Anyway," the sorcerer looked at the young warlock once more. Merlin could almost feel his body back to normal. Before he could even think to move, the sorcerer lifted a small bottle from the ground beside him and leaned forward. "Don't try and spit this out or spill it, because I have plenty extra. I don't want to waste any time." He held Merlin's chin in one hand, pressing at the sides so his mouth would open, and poured in the tincture. Merlin coughed, trying not to drink it, but the sorcerer tilted his head back and held him firmly in place. Once it was down, he was released.

"What is that? What are you doing to him?"

"Just restraining his magic. Much like one would muzzle a dog, but more proactive. See, your little warlock here isn't just a magic user - he's a creature of magic. Which means that keeping him from using it, by force, will prove to be a rather painful experience for him."

Merlin was already struggling with the effects of the potion, his chest feeling like it couldn't expand to bring in enough air. His head tipped down as he tried to keep calm and focused. The sorcerer stood, done his maintenance for the time being.

"We'll get out of here," The warlock swore, raising his head and staring the older man down. "You'll regret acting against us."

The sorcerer tutted and shook his head. "I'm not afraid of you, Merlin. But I do know what you're afraid of. No matter what you say now, I don't think any man could survive what you'll go through without losing his sanity. So, gentlemen…" He flashed a grin at the livid king and wary servant. "Let's see what your worst fear is."

Merlin watched the door close and stared at it a moment before he turned to look at Arthur.

No.

He watched, horror dawning on him, as his friend was released from the wall and took a breath as if awakening. Merlin sat stock still, petrified, as Arthur stared right back at him. Not his Arthur.

The blonde didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Merlin didn't move away as the king approached. The warlock was silent as Arthur - that Arthur - grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the center of the room.

After the first shock he felt upon seeing those cruel eyes again, Merlin was afraid. He wanted, needed to get away. Mind blank with panic, he tried to crawl away. He flipped onto his belly and started to pull himself toward the door.

But Arthur grabbed his leg, pulling it out. He stood straight quick and brought his heel down on Merlin's ankle, which snapped on impact. Merlin screamed gutturally.

Arthur moved to stand beside him. Merlin reached up uncertainly in a silent plea for mercy. The blonde took his hand.

Hope shone in the warlock's eyes.

Arthur placed his boot on the boy's chest and, with his grip on the hand, yanked on that arm with all his strength, effectively tearing the shoulder's joint from its socket.

Merlin ground his teeth, trying not to scream again. The groan he produced felt loud. Arthur was still silent. Then Merlin should be silent, too. He would obey.

Arthur let the useless arm fall and took a step back. With a sneer, the blonde kicked the servant in the side. Seeming to be disappointed in the effect, he delivered a much harder kick in the same place. Still, not the desired outcome. More kicks, increasingly forceful, and still that bemused look. Finally, he brought his boot down on Merlin's chest in a heavy stomp rather than a kick, and a rib was fractured. The boy yelled in pain, cringing as he'd been too loud. That was bad. He was weak. This was nothing! He'd been through far worse than this. A few broken bones had never stopped him from serving the king or doing his duties. Now, here he was, lying on the floor after just one punishment? Weak.

Another harsh kick and the next rib gave way. This time, he was much quieter. Good. With each new blow, he kept quiet and tried not to pull away.

I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this. He didn't know why he was so sure that this was his fault, but lying at the king's feet, suffering brutal blows, old doubts and self-loathing returned to him as if they'd never left.

Pain. Fear. Pain. The familiar onslaught in his mind made him feel small and weak, just like before. Locked in a cage with Arthur, good, gentle Arthur, turned cruel once more. This time, though, he could not even consider whether Arthur was suffering, whether he was trapped within his own mind and forced to do this. For every doubt in his mind made the servant feel that maybe Arthur wanted to do this. It was illogical, impossible, but it made sense in his tormented mind. After over a year of punishing weakness, beating him down for every fault, surely Merlin's every action spoke to how incompetent he was. Surely, everything he did was chipping away at the king's patience, and now he could hold back no longer.

Each blow brought both pain and anguish. Arthur hated him. Arthur wanted him to suffer. He was weak and useless and bad.

Suddenly, Arthur was gone. Well, that Arthur. He still felt the pain of the beating, but he was now sat against the wall rather than splayed on the floor. And Arthur wasn't standing above him, he was sitting beside him. Holding his hand. Merlin held on tighter at realizing this.

"A-Arthur?"

Nothing was as it seemed. Magic. The man. "Let's see what your worst fear is."

Arthur hadn't hurt him, didn't hate him. It was a trick of the mind, just something meant to break him down. But Arthur was beside him. That was one mistake their captor had made - for with Arthur there, Merlin knew he would be alright. He'd be safe. And he'd keep Arthur safe as well.

A/N: Tune in to the next chapter for another perspective of... whatever just happened. Anyone confused?