Title: Everything

Warnings: Some foul language, mentions of torture, descriptions of injuries.

Note: This is my very first fanfiction, so critiques are welcome. I'm always trying to improve!

~Ra1n

"W-where were y-you?" Merlin breathed, his eyes fluttering closed. His ribs expanded quickly as he took in shallow pulls of air. Arthur's fingers trembled as he carefully undid the knots around Merlin's frail wrists.

"I-I waited," he whispered, his eyes still closed, "I waited and w-waited and y-you said-" he took another shallow breath as his freed hands fell into his lap, "you said y-you would come b-back."

"I know, I know," Arthur choked out, kneeling to untie Merlin's ankles from the chair's legs, "And I did."

"No," Merlin's eyes opened a fraction of an inch, "You d-didn't."

He closed his eyes and his brow furrowed as he attempted to keep his breathing under some kind of control. Arthur's stomach lurched as he finished unwinding the rope around Merlin's ankles. His feet fell together with a soft slap and Arthur took in the raw, thin skin where he'd struggled against his bonds. He'd fought back, but he'd never had a chance.

Arthur glanced at Merlin's neck nervously. The collar was still there, heavy and glowing faintly against his pale, broken flesh. It had been made for Merlin specifically, and Arthur had been so proud of it.

The iron had been measured precisely, the runes etched by the neatest scribe in the kingdom. Each of the jewels and precious metals were cut and fitted to ensure the optimum amount of contact between them and the vulnerable skin of Merlin's neck. Iron to numb the magic, nickel to weaken the muscles. Rubies to slow the blood, amethyst to slow the mind, emeralds to slow the lungs.

It was a truly beautiful piece of equipment that Arthur now found utterly revolting. He itched to rip the thing from Merlin's neck, but forced himself to remain calm. He feared the only thing keeping Merlin from unleashing a pain-fueled wrath on him was that collar, so Arthur would keep it on him until he was sure everybody was safe.

Instead, he focused on everything else. The bruising all over his body. The gashes weeping bloody puss down his rib cage and abdomen. His fingers and toes broken at odd angles. They were classic marks of interrogation; Arthur wasn't surprised by them. He'd ordered the guards to get any information they could out of the sorcerer, and he didn't expect any less.

The sensitive skin of Merlin's inner arms and thighs resembled minced meat, however, and Arthur stared at the wounds for a moment, stumped as to what could have caused them. A vague memory floated through his mind.

"The sorcerer isn't giving us anything, sire."

"Well, then you're obviously not doing your job well enough."

"We have tried all of the standard techniques, he simply isn't talking. Is it possible that he truly doesn't-"

"Don't you dare. He knows something and I will not hear my own guards sympathizing with a lying sorcerer."

"I'm not sympathizing, sire- I am merely suggesting the possibility that-"

"He knows something! I know he does! He was here for a reason, and you damn well better figure out what that reason is."

"But we have already gone through the procedure for interrogation, and he has said nothing. What do you suggest we do now?"

"I don't care! Be creative! You have an entire kingdom of instruments at your disposal! You can figure something out!"

"Y-yes, sire…"

As the memory ended, Arthur turned his head and promptly threw up across the stones. He heaved again when he saw the myriad of stains already there, and had to force his eyes closed as he recognized the shape of the Pendragon crest burned into the sole of one of Merlin's feet.

He'd told them to get creative…

And they'd obeyed him.

Of course they'd obeyed him -they'd had no other choice. The king of Camelot had ordered them to torture an innocent man, so they had tortured an innocent man. God, the head guard had even said they believed he was innocent, and Arthur had refused to listen. And now… now Arthur was taking mental inventory of his best friend's wounds.

Merlin shivered suddenly, his unbroken toes curling and releasing again. Arthur instinctively put a comforting hand on his arm and was met with a full-bodied flinch. Merlin's eyes opened in panic and he jerked his arm towards his chest, breathing more heavily than before. Arthur's hand stayed frozen in place for a moment, and Merlin stared at it as if it was going to reach out and strangle him.

It was then that Arthur noticed the overlapping bruises across Merlin's throat... somebody already had.

He lowered his hand.

Merlin's breathing slowed slightly, but he was still staring at Arthur's hand with wide, fevered eyes. His arm was trembling.

"I'm-" Arthur began to apologize, but was cut off.

"Don't apologize," Merlin snapped, lowering his arm to his lap. "And don't you dare touch me again."

In the dim light of the cell, Merlin's blood-occluded eyes glittered with malice. Arthur shivered. What had he done?

He finished untying Merlin's bonds in silence. Merlin rested his head against the back of the chair and focused on breathing once again. As the final rope was removed from his chest, Arthur took a step back to allow Merlin room to get up.

Merlin's eyes fluttered open and surveyed Arthur, then the floor in front of him, and finally the rope burns across his own bare body.

"Um," Arthur didn't know what to say, "you...you're fr- you can leave now. Um, I'm not going to… to hurt you."

Even in his head, Arthur thought the words sounded pathetic.

Merlin must have thought so, too, because he smirked. One of the corners of his mouth twitched up, and he let out a low, hysterical chuckle.

Arthur jumped at the sound. It wasn't Merlin's usual carefree laughter -this was deeper, more crazed than joyful. He opened his mouth to speak when the laughter abruptly stopped.

"It's a l-little late for that n-now, isn't it A-Arthur?" he hissed darkly, and began to giggle again. "W-what do you h-have left to t-take?"

Arthur tensed as the noise echoed against the stone walls of Merlin's prison.

"You can go now," he said again, but Merlin kept laughing. Arthur rose his voice. "You can leave now!"

As quickly as the giggles had started, they stopped as Merlin suddenly roared.

"I can't, you useless prat! Don't you understand? I bloody can't!"

On the last two words, Merlin jerked up to stand in front of the chair for a moment, the tendons in his mutilated neck standing out, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, and Arthur had a moment to witness the pure powerMerlin could possess before Merlin promptly crumpled to the ground.

His knees jarred painfully against the stones and he caught himself with his elbows, his spine curved downward in utter defeat. Arthur watched as each of his prominent, bruised ribs pulsed under his skin. When Merlin spoke, he spoke to the floor.

"I can't," he whispered. Arthur saw a few weak tears drip from his cheeks. "Can't you see? I have nothing left." His arms gave way beneath him, and he collapsed fully, curling to cradle his fragile abdomen. "D-do what you w-want. I d-don't care anym-more." He squeezed his eyes shut, and a few more bloody tears slipped down his face."J-just please...make it end."

Arthur didn't move. He was frozen to the spot, shock paralyzing his muscles and keeping his feet stuck to the floor. A few thoughts flashed through his mind at once.

Merlin was too weak to stand.

Merlin was too weak to defend himself.

Arthur banished the second thought immediately, hating himself for thinking it. But the first thought stayed. For some reason, the thought that Merlin - brave, stubborn, stupid, powerful Merlin - didn't have the strength to walk out of his own prison made Arthur's stomach clench.

As Arthur watched the sorcerer sob into the floor, things suddenly snapped into perspective.

Arthur had taken everything.