A.N: Hey faithful readers. I hope it's going well for you, and to brighten up your day, here's another chapter. Although it may not brighten at all...

Chapter 4

Gwaine struggled to remain conscious. He paid no heed to their deprecate roars; he was concentrated on his chest. The men jeering and kicking at him made that action difficult. Every few moments, a boot would crush into his lungs, breaking a bone from time to time. Gwaine forced himself to inhale, then slowly exhale in between jolts of pain. First he would focus on staying alive, then he would help Merlin.

Their shouts were indistinct, but Merlin's wasn't. Gwaine couldn't see him, but his cries were discernible. Merlin screamed more intensely than Gwaine; his paine must have been to as well. They were torturing him. Gwaine mustered up his strength, but it was barely enough to stand. When the smashing ceased, Gwaine did just that. He choked out breaths that were meant to stop from blood and bile. He coughed out anything he could onto the dirt and muck.

"St-" Gwaine's words failed. He swallowed down irony blood that threatened in his throat. He groaned, and heard some of their sardonic taunts.

"Some knight of Camelot!"

"Does Uther pick anyone off the street now!"

"Can't defend anything, can you!"

"Pathetic!"

"Pitiful!"

"Worthless!"

Among worse ones, their derisions didn't touch his ego. It was too big for that.

The next few swings, the knight sloppily maneuvered. He tried to retaliate, but his strength was weakening. His force was fading, and his breath stopping. The strain was harsh on his body, and his legs collapsed. One of the men removed a whip from a tent.

Crack!

Gwaine winced and juddered from the gash.

"Get up, you coward!" The man with the whip called. Gwaine tried, wrenching his muscles and commanding them to move. They disobeyed and remained in agony.

Crack!

"Get up!"

Crack!

The strikes became louder and faster and harder and wilder. The snake tail imprinted on his entire back.

Crack!

Gwaine could feel his vivacity slipping away. It touched his cheek and kissed him softly before fading and leaving him cold. He reached for it, but it dissipated until there was a glimmer left of it.

Then, it returned to him in the form of a beautiful girl. She had midnight blue hair and sad eyes. Her lips were full and worried. She had the palest skin he ever saw, and viridian green eyes that gazed at him with compassion. She smelled like a sea breeze as she stroked his hair. He felt warmth diffuse into his body. The girl leaned in and pressed her forehead against his. She stared into him.

Gwaine snapped from his vision back to reality. The whipping halted and the air was heavy. His tender back was left to the open air and it stung. The needles stabbing his wounds nerved him. Gwaine tilted his head to see the most unexpected sight; Morgana.

… … …

Gwen chuckled as she watched Arthur amble from his encounter with her. He was obviously discomfited from his frazzled talk. Gwen couldn't help but think it was adorable.

That meant he felt something for her, right? He couldn't lose his words in front of a ten foot man, let alone a servant. It was only her to whom his mouth stopped. No; she was overanalyzing. He couldn't ever feel something for her; even if he did, he could never admit it. There was too much stigma around a relationship like that.

Her heart dreamily wretched for him as she padded through the halls. She slipped out a sigh, and combed back a stray curl. Gwen hummed a meaningless melody. Arthur Pendragon; silenced from a servant.

Morgana caught her eyes. The ward was sneaking out of the castle with her hood up. What was she doing at this hour of night?

The possibility that she needed help was low, but curiosity ruled Gwen's thoughts. Her mind told her to go, in case she did require… something. Everyone needs something at one point or another.

Gwen followed Lady Morgana, but at a distance. This wasn't her only curious behavior of late. Morgana had been disappearing at night for days. Gwen didn't mention it, but she knew. She was the sole owner of this knowledge.

She trailed Morgana out of the castle. Gwen kept to the edges of houses and stayed in the darkness. She removed her heels, which were making clicks against the cobblestone. Morgana sought after alleys and the awkward space between hovels. She darted through the mess of buildings on the outskirts of the city, careful to retain silence.

They reached the west gate. Gwen silenced herself as she watched Morgana stride towards a pack of guards lingering near the exit. She listened closely, but only the guards were audible.

"Sorry, milady, but it's too late to leave. You should head back to bed." The biggest of the guards answered Morgana's quiet question.

The king's ward spoke again, softly.

"I can't let you leave. The king-" The guard gurgled and dropped his sentenced. Gwen drew her eyes to try and infer what happened, but the guards stepped aside and let Morgana pass.

Seeing Morgana disappear through the gate, Gwen shuffled towards the guards. She reached them as the gate began to close. The servant decided to pursue her lady, instead of examining the guards' opaque glare. Gwen crept under the heavy gate, and trotted after Morgana.

Gwen stayed in shadow while trailing Morgana. Every few minutes, the king's ward would turnabout and stare into the empty space where Gwen had been standing. Once, after an hour of passing trees in the forest, Morgana smiled. That sneer was wicked and bent.

Well into night, Gwen began to smell rotten food, putrid waste, and iron. The metallic smell tickled her nose as a fire lighted darkness. There were screams; bloodcurdling cries rebuked by laughter. As she followed Morgana ever closer the smell and the sounds, her heart raced. It took the speed of a galloping horse and she grew terrified. Her mind questioned Morgana thoroughly.

Crack!

A whip and a grunt. More screams. More terror. Morgana stepped onto the outskirts of the camp. The whip stopped, but someone's pain didn't. The air, weighed down by Morgana's presence, seemed to stop flowing.

Gwen sneaked closer until she caught sight of Gwaine. He was in horrible condition; beaten and battered, bruised and bloody. Morgana stared down at him, pursing her lips.

Morgana spoke bitterly, "What is this?" She tapped Gwaine's face with her toe.

The large man grasping the whip replied, "What you wanted."

"All you give me is this sour disgrace of a knight? And over there? Who is that, Argus?"

Argus barred his teeth in a nasty grin, "That? That is Emrys, lady Morgana."

Morgana twitched at the name, and waltzed to a disfigured boy. The boy's face was swollen, and his body ravaged with gashes and pain.

Morgana snickered, "This is the mighty Emrys? The all-powerful warlock? How can you be sure? He seems pathetic and weak."

"We can smell 'im."

"Bring him. We have some things to prepare for. Maybe you aren't so incompetent after all." Morgana rested a hand on Argus' chest, "And seeing as my servant followed me here, bring her too."

Gwen was grabbed by the waist and pushed to the dirt. She kicked and scratched, but the men who took her were much stronger. One withdrew his sword and thrust with all his force down on her head with the hilt, and it became dark.

A.N: Oh noes! Not Gwennie... please review. If you don't, I'll... I'll think of something to threaten you with! I know! Don't eat any chocolate until you review, else you'll be cursed with a bad hair day.