A.N: Hope you all had a fine holiday. I know I did. This chapter... well, just read it.

~Chapter 10~

Days became weeks. A routine was set up with Cecil; he'd give them clean water and whatever food he could scrounge. Gwaine was happy to receive such kindness, but moved his mind away from getting sentimental.

The usual Cecil could scavenge were bits of bitten bread, hard biscuits that nearly broke teeth, and occasionally cooked river herring. Gwaine accepted them all with gratefulness, but strayed from eating the herring; it was oily and too salty for his taste buds. He always gave a portion of his food to Gwen and Merlin, though they refused it every time. Eventually, from the little nutrition they acquired and their gurgling bellies, they didn't want the food to be wasted.

Gwaine tried to count the hours of the days and the days of the weeks that passed, but some were lost to sleep. The sleep was neither nightmarish nor pleasant, but empty and short-lived. It was the last activity he could partake in without driving himself mad. After a dreamless nap, half his thoughts were consumed by Morgana.

The silence from her troubled him deeply, for it was unknowing that stuck a twinge of fear within him. He waited as his skin seemed to grow tighter by the day. Muscle and fat were used by his body in effort to keep him breathing. Merlin and Gwen looked no better.

"Do you know how long we've been here?" Gwaine turned to Merlin. He may have the answer; after all, he was a warlock.

Merlin picked at the cuff that was slapped on him the second day he was conscious from illness. Gwaine recalled Vincent being slightly afraid before Merlin had the bronze chainless shackle fitted on him. Merlin said the cuff seemed to drain him of his power, and was most definitely created by Morgana to retain the magic of Emrys.

"An hour longer than the last time you asked." Merlin groaned tugging at the metal chaffing his wrist. Raw rings were drawn from his itching with it.

"Oh. I didn't remember. I am feeling quite lightheaded, now that you mention that. What do you think it's from?" Gwaine blandly gazed without latching on to any particular object.

"Starvation? Dehydration? Malnutrition? Being sober? Take your pick. There could be millions."

"Funny, that 'sober' joke."

"I don't hear any laughter."

"Lighten up, will you? You know I don't like being around depressed people." The knight complained to his companion. He shifted to better accommodate himself against the rough cobblestone.

"By all accounts, leave. I'm not stopping you." It was like Merlin was trying to pick a fight.

"You know you get real nasty when you're grumpy. Like how you got with me when I told you about what happened with Kate."

"Caley."

"Whatever her name was. You should consider yourself lucky; she wasn't all that pretty in the morning."

Gwen intervened before it became a quarrel, "Stop it, the both of you. Merlin, maybe you should improve your attitude a little. Gwaine you just need to be quiet for a while. Can we manage that?"

Gwaine and Merlin locked eyes, "Yes, mum."

Gwen was about to continue scolding when Cecil slid down the steps, nearly tripping and spilling the substance in a pot. He landed on his butt, dripping a few drops of liquid, and sighed exhaustively. He seemed to have had a long day.

"Guard change." He muttered to the resting guard on duty. The man stood while picking out the yellow crust of his eyes. When he passed Cecil, still on the ground, he kicked the pot and it flew to the ground. Cecil scrambled for it, but only half of its contents remained. He gave a groan accompanied with a huff.

Cecil removed a single wooden spoon from his jacket pocket and dropped it into the pot. He handed it to Merlin through the bars.

"I managed to get you soup today. Not much left now, I suppose, but it'll help you regain lost strength." Cecil offered. He plopped on the chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

"Is something the matter?" Gwaine crawled to the front of his cell.

Cecil raised his eyebrows and stroked his hair, "Morgana sent word that the ingredients she requires for the ritual are almost all set. She's been having trouble getting out of the castle due to an increase of guards on the gates ordered secretly by Prince Arthur. But when she manages to leave, she'll come straight here."

"What ritual?" Merlin asked, first spoonful of soup still in his hand.

"Morgana," Cecil took an intense pause for effect with his words, "Is going to drain Merlin of his magic and take it for herself."

"I figured it would be something like that."

Gwaine interjected, "You said that Arthur was building up guard? That means he suspects something, and that means he's looking for us."

Gwen shook her head, "Yes, but Uther must not have commissioned his search. Arthur is doing this in secret, which would take him twice as long to find us."

Gwaine found himself, again, frustrating beyond reason. The only luck that turned up was in the form of soup and magic healing water that ran on the back wall of his cell. There was no plan. There was no escape. Every decision they could possibly make would only end in pain or death. He tapped his head against the bars.

Merlin brought the spoon up to his lips, but when the soup entered his mouth, he sprayed it in Cecil's direction.

"What's wrong with the soup?" Cecil slouched his shoulders and his monotone nature seemed expectant of bad news.

Merlin spat out the remnants of the liquid, "It's cabbage. I hate cabbages."

Gwaine stifled a laugh.

Cecil buried his face with one palm. He grumbled his own problems, but was muffled by his hand. He finally brought both hands together and interlocked with his own fingers. Terribly annoyed, he asked, "Why do you hate cabbages?"

"Now that's a story you ought to hear." Gwaine chuckled, "It all started back at a tavern, one of my personal favorites, just outside the walls of Camelot's citadel, on the south side. Merlin and I went out drinking to relax and have a good time. We drank our way through two bottles of whiskey before Merlin set his eyes on a pretty girl.

"She looks at Merlin, and he looks back at her. Neither of us can remember much of what happened during the night, but in the morning, I awoke in a bed full of carrots. I left as soon as I could, leaving and returning to Camelot, never to see whatever that girl's name was again. Merlin's story is much more interesting.

"When he awoke the next day, he was in a field of cabbages. Naked. We aren't sure why he was naked, or in a field, but he was there. He had massive headaches from our night before, and one mile seemed like twenty to him. He wandered for three full days, completely lost and wandering in circles. All he had to eat were the cabbages in that farm. He slept in the cabbage field when night came, and there wasn't a soul around that he could find. Eventually, he gathered his wits and found the road back to Camelot, but he was still naked. To avoid complete embarrassment, he covered his privates with a couple of cabbages.

"When he made his way back into Camelot, Arthur and I had been looking for him, and we found him heading back to Gaius'. Naked. When he returned to us, fully clothed, he smelled rank of cabbage. The smell of his body didn't disappear for days and the smell of his breath lingered for one week. Now he can't stand cabbages."

Gwen nodded, "That's why you smelled odd that one week. I thought that was strange because you normally smell good."

They all turned their heads.

"Uh," Merlin said, "Thanks."

Gwen shrugged, "It's hard not to notice a person's smell when you've worked with them for years."

"How do I smell?" Gwaine wondered.

"Do you really want to know?" Gwen took the soup and began sipping.

He paused, weighing his options, "No, actually, I don't."

"You two get into mischief like that often?" Cecil smiled, and the scar on his left warped with his cheek.

"If you liked that, you'll love the story of Merlin and the pig." Gwaine laughed.

Merlin collapsed to the ground, "Please don't tell him that one. No one must ever know. It must never be spoken of, conversed of, written of, or thought of. Ever."

"Alright. But that means I can tell him about the rabbits and the onions."

Merlin lifted his head to Cecil and spoke fast, "Gwaine got himself stuck in a barrel of onions for two days. We didn't know where he was. He was in an alley, where local children threw rabbit skins on him. I eventually found him, and through bad luck, I got myself stuck in the barrel as well. After two hours of dead rabbits, the barrel broke under our weight. We stunk. The end."

"It's not as good if you rush it. Stop being so grumpy."

"I can't. I feel like I'm being trapped inside my own body. It's this stupid cuff! I can't breathe with it on."

Gwaine sighed, "Sorry-"

The door at the top of the steps busted open and Vincent and a few other mercenaries tramped in. One carried chains and a lock. There was no happiness on their face other than twisted and demented joy.

"Get up, pretty boy." Vincent mockingly teased Gwaine, "You're going for a swim."

Cecil stepped in front of Vincent, "What's going on?"

"Morgana says we can kill the knight and the girl. We'll be killing the knight first, and we're going to have a little fun with the girl before we slit her throat."

The three prisoners stood, and Merlin stepped in front of Gwen protectively.

"Vincent, I don't think that's wise." Cecil puffed out his chest faintly.

"And what are you going to do about it, eh? Punch someone again? You barely even scratched Lew when all he did was try to look up the girlie's skirt. You don't seem to have any fun left after your brother did that to you."

Cecil staggered backwards and looked at Vincent and his men. He removed himself from Vincent's way and didn't look at Gwaine's betrayed face.

Gwaine had been somewhat sure he could count on Cecil. As the men unlocked Gwaine's cell, he tried to fight, but his strength was failing. Easily he was defeated and arms chained. His body refused to let him struggle as he was hauled away from Merlin and Gwaine, up the stairs past Cecil who was glassy eyed, and into the burning sunlight.

That altercation seemed glossed over to Gwaine, like it hadn't happened. Perhaps he was too dizzy and starving to properly recount things much more. He was tied to the flank of a horse, and watched Cecil exit the dungeon into the courtyard. Cecil mounted a horse and ran away. The mercenaries let him go, feeling no threat.

Gwaine was pulled by a chestnut mare with Vincent as its master. He hadn't remembered removing his shoes, but they were gone nonetheless. He trekked barefoot through shrubs and sticks, carelessly stumbling and stubbing his toes on rocks. It wasn't long before they reached the edge.

It was an edge of a ledge of the cliff they trudged on. A sharp fall was met by a lake at the bottom. A waterfall gushed beside them, and the water was like the one in his cell; he recognized the smell.

Vincent's final adjustment was to Gwaine's feet. They were chained to a heavy boulder like rock. The chains were warm from soaking up the sunlight, hardly fiery to the touch.

"Any last words?" Vincent brought Gwaine to the brink.

"Fu-" Gwaine began to say, but his voice was lost when Vincent shoved him into the air. Gwaine felt his gut drop and fly and twist with the stinging air falling up, and he plummeted, his last thought being the fate of his friends.

A.N: And how'd you like that last bit, hmm? Sorry I had to go and ruin some happiness they just found with sadness. Oh well. See you in the next chapter, though I don't really see you, there will be a next chapter. Probably tomorrow. Don't blame me if it's not, I have a lot on my mind.