The small cell rang with the force of Merlin's proclamation. Arthur glared at him, confused, but the effect was spoiled by Merlin, who had buried his hands in Arthur's hair. Fingers gently prodding as he felt along his skull. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for but he'd seen Gaius do it enough times that there must be something to look for. Goose eggs or something.

Arthur sputtered, wincing when he hit a sore spot, "What're you doing now?"

"I'm checking for swelling."

"Oh-kay," the prince didn't sound convinced. He knew as well as Merlin that his servant was no physician. But beggars can't be choosers, he griped mentally. "Why?"

"Gaius always does it when he treats people with head injuries. I don't know why exactly, but from what I remember, I think it's to check which area of the brain was affected - head injuries are tricky like that - depending on where it is and how much swelling there is….well…."

"Well? What?"

"Well, it can cause a whole bunch of other problems."

"Problems," Arthur repeated, haggard. He was tired and sore - which was an understatement to say the least. His shoulders were burning with a bone-deep ache and his head felt like someone was using it as a drum - and the last he wanted to do was play guessing games with Merlin. "So tell me, Merlin, what sort of problems might that be?"

"Oh you know," he hemmed and hawed, hesitant to tell Arthur the truth lest it upset him. "It can make you dizzy or tired or nauseous or cause vision disturbances like...blindness."

"Blindness?!"

"I'm sure it's only temporary."

"That's not exactly reassuring, Merlin ."

"I'm serious! Don't worry, Arthur. You only have a very mild case of serious brain damage. Once the swelling goes down and your concussion starts to heal, it'll come back with no problems, I promise." Maybe it was the sincerity in Merlin's voice. Maybe it was the use of his first name. Maybe it was that - being a knight - Arthur had at least a basic understanding of first aid and recognized the truth of Merlin's words. Whatever the case, he schooled his expression, taking a few deep breaths as he worked to calm himself down. Merlin waited while he appeared to go through some sort of breathing exercise. Eventually, he seemed to come back to himself. Though he still looked troubled.

"Good?"

"No," Arthur replied, sullenly, moving like he wanted to rub his eyes but aborting the motion with a grating noise of pain as it tugged on his ruined shoulders. "But better than I was," he choked out between gritted teeth, his eyes clenching shut for a moment before he forced them back open. Merlin took a step forward, hands fluttering helplessly.

He felt so powerless.

He couldn't use magic. Not with Arthur so close. And especially not on Arthur. The prince was bound to notice if his injuries magically stopped hurting, even with Merlin's paltry skill at healing spells.

It was a hard pill to swallow but without his magic, there wasn't anything he could do to help. He didn't know how to reset dislocated shoulders and he was afraid that trying would just make things worse.

He couldn't even brace the injury.

The cell was empty; there wasn't a bedroll he could use as bandages. He didn't even have a shirt that he could tear into bandages. His own shirt was a lost cause, stained with blood and sweat, his trousers had been taken. The only thing he had was his neckerchief and it was too small to be of any help.

It seemed the only thing he could do was stand by and do nothing while his friend hurt.

His eyes stung as he blinked back frustrated tears.

"We have to leave," he said gently after the worst of the pain seemed to have passed. He hated to do it. Arthur looked so tired and run-down that he wished they could lie down. Just for a moment. But they had to move. They had already stalled too long and Merlin definitely didn't want to be here when Morgause and the guards came back.

Arthur nodded.

Together they staggered over to the cell door. Arthur made a minute gesture - careful not to move his injured shoulders - and Merlin stopped. He waited while the prince pressed an ear to the door and listened carefully. Tense seconds crept by.

"I don't hear anything," he looked solemnly at Merlin, "Open the door. Slowly."

He nodded, moving to stand beside Arthur as he reached for the handle.

"Wait," Merlin froze mid-reach, fingers hesitating over the brass handle.

He turned to look at Arthur, "What is it now?"

"Your leg. It's still bleeding. You need to bandage it somehow or you'll lead the guards right to us."

Merlin looked down.

He had forgotten that his leg had been cut. The smaller hurt was completely undetectable under the steady throb of agony emanating from his back. In the low light, the wound seemed to glow red like a star, the beads of blood, blooming from it reflecting the torchlight. One escaped, as he watched sliding down his leg before vanishing into the folds of his knee. It left a grisly red trail in its wake.

And now that his attention had been turned to it, he realized that his skin itched unpleasantly. The sensation of drying blood sending shivers up his spine.

What he wouldn't give for a hot bath, right now.

But baths would have to come later. For now, he had to stop the bleeding.

Untying his neckerchief he wrapped it over the wound before drawing it shut, hissing as the fabric rubbed against the shallow cuts.

Blood immediately stained the makeshift bandage but it didn't seem like it was gonna leak through. He experimentally moved his way this way and that before shaking it, for good measure. The bandage stayed firmly in place. Good. That was good.

Satisfied that his injury was taken care of to the best of his ability - and Merlin swore the instant they found anything else they could use as bandages he was going to give Arthur the same treatment - he returned to cautiously opening the door.

The hinges creaked as the door swung open half an inch. Merlin winced at the noise, breath freezing in his chest, certain that any moment now someone would sound the alarm. A moment passed. Two. He released a shaky breath when no one came to investigate the noise or the opening of the door. Emboldened, he let the door swing open the rest of the way.

Peeking out, he cautiously stepped into the empty corridor before helping Arthur out as well. Linking their arms together, he wondered aloud which way they should go. The prince shushed him and hissed back in a whisper that they should go left. Merlin nodded, in agreement. They'd already been down the right corridor after all and he had absolutely no desire to get anywhere near that torture chamber ever again.

Even if it was the most familiar path...no. Just no. Never again.

Like the corridor from before, the left passage was dimly lit. The light of the torches doing little to cut through the gloom. Merlin's heart hammered wildly in his chest as they crept further down the hall. It was difficult to walk so close to another person, his legs kept tangling with Arthur's and he was more stumbling than walking at this point.

Arthur growled in nervous annoyance as he tripped again, nearly sending Arthur into the neighboring wall.

" Merlin!"

"Sorry, sorry," he hastily got his feet under himself, the blood draining from his face. What if someone had heard that? Wasting no time, he unhooked his arm from Arthur's before grabbing his wrist instead. Pulling him along behind him as he nearly raced down the hallway in his haste to get away from the scene of the crime.

"I knew you were clumsy but this is ridiculous. Your inability to walk in a straight line is going to get us killed."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Merlin hissed back, "It's not my fault your fat legs kept getting in the way."

"Fat!? It's muscle!"

"Wow, why don't you try again. I don't think the entire castle heard you yelling, that time."

"I was not shouting. Do I look like a complete idiot?"

"Yes."

Arthur scoffed, "Glad to see that torture hasn't ruined your sense of humor."

"I wish I could say the same for you."

"Just...don't run me into any walls, Merlin," he muttered wearily.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Any more hits and you'll lose what little brains you have left," Merlin joked.

Cenred's castle was not a place that Merlin was familiar with. Camelot's castle was the only one he'd ever been in but hopefully, they were similar enough that he could guess which way they should go. They were obviously being held in the dungeons - which if the layouts were the same - would put them at the lowest point of the castle. Any way out would be further up.

Back in Camelot, the staircase leading down into the dungeons was right next to the south wall. It led straight into the heart of the dungeon before splitting into offshoots that lead to the vaults, the cells, or - if one was feeling very brave - to Kilgharrah's prison.

But those staircases were only accessible one way. There'd definitely be a guard station at the bottom and if by some miracle they didn't pass anyone on their journey to a staircase, they'd still have to deal with the guards at the bottom.

Still, Merlin groaned internally, it was the best bet they had.

So...up it was.

Now they just had to find their way up.

He wished fervently that Arthur had his eyes. They could have used his royal heritage right about now. It would have made navigating the castle a sight easier.

Speaking of, he should probably see how Arthur's doing.

"How are your eyes? Are you still seeing spots?"

"Worse. Everything's starting to look really blurry. We have to hurry up. I won't be much help when I can't see anything. And I have no faith in your navigational abilities." They walked in silence for a moment before Arthur sighed, "I'm sorry that I'm not of more help to you Merlin."

"Don't sell yourself short," Merlin replied, his pace slowing as the hallway abruptly curved. Cautiously, he paused just before the final bend, checking for guards. "We wouldn't have even made it this far if it weren't for you."

The way was clear.

He led them around the bend then he saw something that made the blood freeze in his veins.

Arthur grunted as Merlin stopped in his tracks.

He groaned as the abrupt motion pulled on his shoulder. He opened his mouth ready to scold Merlin for his carelessness but hesitated. Merlin may be an idiot but he wouldn't have stopped without a reason.

He squinted trying to see why they had stopped to no avail. Everything looked like smears of color and shape and he couldn't make out anything he was looking at.

"What is it?"

He heard Merlin swallow.

"It's a wall. A dead-end. Arthur, it's a dead-end! We choose the wrong way," he whispered, horrified. He stared in horror at the wall in front of him. "I thought maybe we'd find a staircase - like the one back in Camelot - but it's not here." Merlin paused, face wane in the low light, "Where would it be? Did you see a staircase when we," he choked, voice stuttering, "... earlier… Down the other hallway…"

Arthur shook his head, heart sinking. The longer they spent here, the more likely they were to be spotted but where did they go? There had to be a way up so why couldn't they find it?

"We must have missed something. We have to go back."

They backtracked down the hall, pausing in front of the cell they'd been in to check that they were in the right spot before continuing.

Merlin glanced at it as they walked by.

Now that he had time to look, he noticed that there were other cells dotting the stretch of wall. These ones didn't have heavy wooden doors blocking the entrance. Instead, they looked more like the cages used to hold animals. Metal bars set low into the stone floor and crude doors with heavy-looking locks. They offered no privacy; Merlin could see every corner of the room through the bars. Straw and dirt covered the floor.

There was a large lump in one cell. He looked closer at it. At first, he thought it was a bundle of cloth - maybe a makeshift bed - but then the torchlight moved and he caught a glimpse of fingers, still curled in agony.

He grimaced and averted his eyes. He didn't look into any more cells after that but the image stayed with him. He felt panic rising within him threatening to choke him, to leave him a whimpering mess in the middle of the hallway. He inhaled slowly and let it, repeating the motion several times but it didn't soothe him the way he'd been hoping.

It was ridiculous. He had seen dead bodies before. He had killed people himself before so why? Why was he freaking out this time?

Maybe it was that he was willingly walking back towards the place he'd been tortured. Maybe it was that he was frightened of seeing Arthur - his friend - being tortured right in front of his eyes. Maybe he was just really tired; emotionally, physically, mentally. Once they were back in Camelot he was going to sleep for a week. He was so tired.

Whatever the case, he couldn't stop himself from panicking, heart in his throat as they headed back towards the torture chamber.

"-Keep your eyes peeled," Arthur's voice cut through the wave of panic and he mentally clutched at it. "Are you listening to me, Merlin?"

He opened his mouth to reply and was mortified when all that came out was a strangled-sounding moan.

Arthur stopped.

"Come on. Out with it. What's wrong," he asked. "Do your wounds hurt?"

Merlin cleared his throat, croaking a few times before he answered, "No. No, my wounds aren't hurting too bad. I'm just-" Scared. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. But Arthur seemed to hear it all the same.

He clasped Merlin's shoulder, squeezing gently, as he gazed at him with unfocused but overwhelmingly kind eyes. "It'll be alright," he assured him. "We just have to keep moving."

Merlin nodded and didn't reply.

The door, when they find it, blends in with the wall so perfectly Merlin almost walks straight past it before recognizing the dull gleam of metal and shadow for what it is. He squeezes Arthur's arm in excitement, dragging him over to the wall, before trying the door.

The handle moves uselessly. Locked.

The relief he had felt at the door's discovery drains away. Replaced with the panic from earlier; it threatens to crash into him. What if all the doors are locked? Then what would they do, it's not like Merlin can do magic. Arthur's right there. Staring... at… nothing.

Arthur can barely see anything.

Merlin glanced between the door and Arthur.

Stealthily, he whispered an unlocking spell. The metal handle glowed bright red for a second before dimming.

The spell hadn't worked.

The handle must be made of more spelled metal.

Merlin groaned and kicked the door. The door didn't even bounce in its frame and Merlin took a moment to be irrationally angry about that.

Of course, it couldn't be that simple. Nothing was ever easy; not for him.

Merlin sighed dejectedly, "Locked."

Grabbing a hold of Arthur's arm again, he pulled them down the hall.

He had really hoped they would find a way out before they reached the end of the hallway.

They'd almost reached the end and...

There was only one door left that he could see.

Bile rose in his throat, he choked it back. His stomach rolling suddenly with nausea as he gazed at that door.

That damnable door.

The last door - because of course, it would be the last one - in the corridor, which hid such terrible secrets behind its innocent facade.

The door leading back to the torture chamber.

He floundered like a man lost at sea. Tossed to and fro by the pounding of the waves as he struggled to hold onto anything to keep him afloat. One by one he grasped at them; his resolve, his belief in his destiny, his trust in Arthur. They felt as fragile as butterfly wings. Cupped uncertainty in his hands as he stood on the cusp of throwing in the towel and saying I'm tired. I can't do anymore. I cannot bear the weight of this trial for another minute let alone the rest of my life.

His courage flickered, guttered like a candle and he held onto with both hands. A life preserver in the dark ocean that he could see. That would lead him home if he only trusted in its light.

Shakily, he reached out a trembling hand, grasped the handle, and slowly, the door creaked open.

Merlin gagged as the room came into view, the bile from before returning with a vengeance. He abruptly twisted away from Arthur and threw up. His eyes burned with salt as dry heaves racked his body; lighting every nerve on fire as the skin on his back stretched and contracted with each violent motion. When it was over he felt scoured out, like someone had taken an ice cream scoop [1] and hollowed him out until all that remained was the hollow shell of his body. Empty as though somewhere along the way his soul had left him.

He wiped his mouth with a shaking hand.

Vaguely, he can feel hands on his arms, simultaneously holding him and shaking him in worry.

Hoarsely he reassured the worried prince that he was alright. He had just opened the last door - the door to the torture chamber, he spit out between clenched teeth - and, and he just hadn't been prepared to see the carnage that lay inside it. Arthur stiffened, ahhing in understanding. It's okay, he said. We'll get out of here and never have to see it again. Or we can come back and burn it to the ground if you want. Merlin nodded, a small huff of laughter escaping him.

They walked further into the room. Careful to go around the blood staining the floor and dripping off the table and the chains - crusted a sickly brown with old blood - hanging from the walls and ceiling. The scent of iron hung thick in the air.

There were no doors.

Just the same stone walls everywhere Merlin looked.

"I don't see a way out. I think that door we passed - the locked one - was the door to the staircase. You know, like the one in Camelot by the catacombs, that's guarded by guards. It's the only way out...we're...we're trapped."

Arthur hummed, "I don't think so. This is a castle. It must have secret passages. Someway the king and his family could escape if they needed to. Camelot has many. When we were little, Morgana," he faltered, a strange look passing over his face,"...and I would try to find all of them."

"How?"

"We'd knock on the walls. You can tell if it's hollow that way. The sound is different when you hit a hollow pocket. Now point me at a wall and let's do this."

Merlin did.

Spreading out, they made their way slowly along the wall, listening carefully for any difference in sound. It was harder than Arthur had made it sound and Merlin found himself worrying that he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. He glanced at the prince out of the corner of his eye and tried his best to copy his pose. Fist raised, ear flat against the wall. Neither of them spoke.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead as five minutes passed. Ten. This was taking too long. Someone was bound to notice they were missing eventually and they hadn't even made it out of the dungeon yet.

He jerked when Arthur exclaimed in triumph, "I found one. Over here, Merlin."

Nearly stumbling with relief, he hurried across the room. Skirting around the filthy table to stand next to Arthur. The wall in front of them was innocuous - if he hadn't known any better he never would have noticed - but upon closer inspection, he could see tiny cracks that could have been an outline of a door. He dug his nails into the crack, fingers slipping on its smooth surface before he found a handhold. With a grunt of pain, he pried the hidden door open, panting in exhaustion and agony. The space in the wall was an inky black hole so dark that it almost seemed to be alive with swirling shadows.

"Let's go," there was no time to lose. There was no time to try to pry one of the torches from their sconce. Plus, he wasn't even sure if he was able to lift his arms up high enough to grab one. They'd have to walk blind. Or, if worse came to worst, he could try to enchant some magic lights to guide them. He grabbed Arthur's hand, closed the secret door behind them as best he could, and led them into the dark.

The hallway was cramped and narrow; too small for them to walk side by side. Forcing them to walk sideways like crabs as they held onto each other so that they didn't get separated.

Cobwebs brushed against them as they walked. Merlin felt some cling to his hair and the wet fabric of his shirt. No one had been this way in a long time, it seemed.

Finally, it became too hard to walk sideways and Merlin stopped. Glaring at nothing. Arthur made a questioning sound but Merlin shook his head.

"It's too hard to walk this way," he had an idea of how to make the walk easier but he had a sinking feeling that Arthur would hate it. "Put your hands on my shoulders."

"I can't . My shoulders are literally broken, Merlin. "

"Oh, well, put them on my waist then."

"What? No way! Absolutely not."

"Come on Arthur! Don't be a prat. I'm tired of walking sideways. It's too hard and not very efficient. We'd make better time walking single file. But you need to hold onto me 'cause I'm not going to be the one to go running after you when you wander off and get lost, you blind menace."

"The hallway is straight!"

"Mmmm, and yet you could still manage to get lost."

" Merlin."

"Just do it. I am literally begging you."

Arthur made some indecipherable comments under his breath. Before gingerly placing his hands on Merlin's waist.

"This never happened. You better not tell anyone about this."

"Oh, don't worry, my lips are sealed."

Awkwardly, they walked down the hall. Arthur's hands brushing like butterflies against him, barely putting any pressure on his sides. Merlin stifled a grin. It was ridiculous - Arthur's aversion to non-violent physical contact - but at the same time, it was almost...thoughtful. That he refused to put any more weight than he had to on Merlin's injured sides.

He was grateful. It also gave him something to focus on instead of his burning back. That included with the attention he had to give his feet not to fall over, he almost was lost in the repetitive movement.

How long had they been walking? The door had provided a little light at first but now the darkness was oppressive. A physical presence that was weighing him down, bringing all of the doubts and fears he had been ignoring. They weren't moving fast enough and then they would be caught and brought back to that awful room. He wished they could move faster than an awkward shuffle but he couldn't see the wall right next to him let alone the floor. There was no way to tell where he was leading them.

Merlin groaned as he ran headfirst into...something in front of him and then again when Arthur ran into him. Forcing him further against whatever it was he'd run into. In the dark, he groped the thing in front of him, trying to figure out what it was. It almost felt like a rotted wooden door. He searched some more and was rewarded with what felt like a doorknob against his palm. He grinned through the pain still blazing through him.

"It's a door," he whispered to Arthur. "I really hope this is the way out."

Merlin pushed the door. Nothing happened. He pushed again harder, basically leaning all of his weight onto it.

"It won't open," he whispered frantically. "There must be something on the other side that's blocking it."

"Or," Arthur began slowly. "It doesn't open that way. Have you tried pulling?"

Oh.

His face burned. At least it was dark and Arthur was practically blind.

He turned back to the door and grabbed the doorknob, pulled the door open.

"Back up, I can't open it all the way."

There was some awkward maneuvering in the cramped tunnel before they both made it through the door.

The only thing in the room was a crumbling stone staircase, spiraling up the walls; weak light was filtering in through somewhere. It wasn't a lot but it was better than the inky blackness from before. At least now Merlin could almost see what was in front of him.

What he saw made him swallow, nervously.

The stairs were narrow. They looked like they were just barely big enough for both of them to stand side by side but there were no railings and they weren't exactly steady right now.

"Do you think you can get up the stairs behind me?"

Arthur made a confused face.

"There's enough room for both of us but it might be safer to go one at a time."

"We can try one at a time first."

"Okay, grab my waist again."

He led them to the first step and went up the first two before stopping.

He looked back at Arthur and saw that he was staring at the ground, inching his foot forward looking for the step.

"A couple more inches." Arthur's foot hit the stone. "Step."

They got into a pattern. Swing, hit, step. Swing, hit, step.

It didn't take long though for Merlin's leg to voice its displeasure. By stair ten he was uncomfortable, by number twenty he was sweating, and number twenty-five he was ready to give up.

"I can't," he wheezed. "My leg."

"Hold onto me, then. We'll walk up this staircase together. I'll...carry you if I have to. But I really hope that doesn't happen."

He huffed a laugh. "I make no promises. But...fine. You have to be by the wall, though."

Merlin guided Arthur up onto his right.

"Wrap your arm around my waist."

Merlin did so without complaint.

They staggered up the rest of the steps.

Another door sat at the top of the stairwell and Merlin hurried over to it, panting. He pressed gently on the wood, letting the door open a crack. The light flooding into the stairwell blinded him and he had to blink a few times to make the red spots go away before he could see what was outside the door.

It opened into an empty hallway. To his left was a wall, and to his right was another hallway that ran perpendicular to the one they came out in. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. "No guard table. No guards. Empty. They must have forgotten that this secret passage existed. Lucky break, huh?"

He grinned over his shoulder at Arthur. But of course, he couldn't see it.

"Come on." He ushered Arthur out next to him and wrapped his arm around his waist again.

Silently, they crept to the other corridor.

Merlin looked right and left. The right path extended a few feet and then came to a dead end. It had a couple of doors but he dismissed them. They looked like they led to storage rooms; they wouldn't help them get outside. The left path seemed more promising. It was longer, for one. Doors lined both sides of the hallway; and from what he could see, it seemed to extend further back into the castle. Hopefully, it was the main hallway that connected to the whole castle.

He knew which way he wanted to go but still….

"Which way now? Right or left"

"Well, it could be this way," Arthur flopped his arm to the right. "Or it could be that way."

"That's not very reassuring."

"I don't know every single castle in England, Merlin. Just because I'm a prince doesn't mean I know everything."

"I'll hold you to that," Merlin started down the left hallway, pulling Arthur along with him. He sighed theatrically. "It's what I get for asking a blind man for directions."

"Rude. I'm trying my best, Merlin. I'd like to see you try to-"

He abruptly stopped talking. Merlin's smile shriveled up and died as he heard it too. The sound of footsteps and laughter coming towards them. He pressed them back into the shadows, holding his breath, as the group of guards walked past them. Obviously on their way to the garrison quarters for a much-needed break, if their conversation was anything to go by. Merlin hoped that they'd decide to sleep or drink themselves into a stupor instead of sitting around and playing knucklebones or backgammon or nine men's morris or whatever games knights played in their spare time.

They'd be in the way.

Not to mention make it even harder to escape.

"Should we try to sneak past them?" The words were barely a whisper. Yet, even that ghost of a sound made him anxious that someone would hear them. He shifted easily on the balls of his feet. He realized that he was squeezing the life out of Arthur's waist and forced himself to loosen his grip. He swallowed, tried to breathe past the fear. He felt like he was all over the place. Bouncing between all-consuming terror, anxiety, and a hysterical kind-of giddiness that consumed him completely. Like he was fracturing and everything he was feeling was spilling from him like floodwaters. Destructive, messy, impossible to run from.

He couldn't fall apart.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Arthur nodded, unhappily. The corners of his mouth were turned down in a frown, eyebrows pinched together in concentration. His eyes narrowed. "You think you can do it?"

"I don't think we have a choice."

Footnotes:

[1] Honey sorbet was a luxury that the kings often enjoyed, and which featured heavily in Nero's vast banquets. In Medieval times, however, ice cream was often associated with sin, if not downright witchcraft