A/N: Thank you Buckhunter, GuestM, and LadyWallace for reviewing! I'm glad you liked the start of this. :D I probably should have said in the first chapter that this fic contains elements of Beauty and the Beast and other similar fairy tales. Intrigue awaits! XD

Chapter 2

Lancelot sat in the dark dungeon, despondently thinking about how his life had been one misfortune after another since his village was destroyed. At least it wasn't quite as cold down here as it was outside. For what little that was worth. It seemed he kept narrowly escaping death only to find himself facing a new means of one.

He heard a chuffing sound coming closer and tensed as the beast returned—and the prince had called it his father.

The hulking brute opened the cell, and Lancelot tried to scoot away, but the beast reached in with a meaty hand-paw and grabbed him by the shirt to drag him out. His heart lurched into his throat, expecting to be executed, but the beast only clapped his wrists in shackles with a length of chain between them.

"My son needs a servant," the beast spoke with a half growl. "That is the only reason I am sparing you a worse fate."

Lancelot was too terrified to think of muttering some sort of thanks.

With that, the beast spun and skulked out, and Lancelot spotted Prince Arthur standing several feet behind, gaze downcast.

"I'm sorry," the young man said contritely. "I never meant for this to happen."

Lancelot believed him. "You saved my life," he replied. "I'm grateful for that."

"Saved it for what?" Arthur sighed and beckoned for Lancelot to come with him.

They headed upstairs and through the castle corridors. Lancelot noticed suits of armor stationed throughout, but with metallic faces frozen like sculptures with such empty expressions yet mournful eyes that they creeped him out. Especially when it seemed like those eyes were following him.

"What is this place?" Lancelot asked nervously.

"This was once the kingdom of Camelot," Arthur replied. "But a sorcerer put a curse on it and we've been hidden away ever since."

"Your father…?" Lancelot tentatively broached.

"Wasn't always a beast. Or so I'm told. I was only a young child when the curse happened. This is the only life I've ever known."

Lancelot couldn't even begin to imagine what that was like.

They reached a set of chambers that were more warm and homey than the rest of the castle Lancelot had seen thus far. A fire was crackling in the fireplace, tapestries adorned the walls, and shelves were full of books.

"These are my chambers," Arthur said needlessly, looking around. He pursed his mouth in thought. "I suppose we'll have to find you some bedding." He turned to Lancelot with a regretful expression. "Sorry about the chains. Maybe after a while I can convince my father we don't need them."

Lancelot just nodded mutely. His situation certainly wasn't ideal, but the prince could hardly be blamed for it.

A black cat with vibrant blue eyes jumped up on the table and looked at them, its tail swishing.

"Oh, that's Merlin," Arthur said.

The cat's ears pricked toward Lancelot. "Hi."

Lancelot jolted in shock, throwing a startled look at Arthur, who didn't look surprised at all. "He…he talks."

"Yeah," Arthur replied casually. "It's very hard to get him to shut up, actually."

The cat stuck its tongue out at the prince before looking back. "It's nice to meet you, Lancelot."

Lancelot gaped at them both. He supposed with a monstrous beast ruling the castle, he shouldn't have been that gobsmacked. "You're under the curse as well?"

The cat cocked his head in a facsimile of a shrug.

Arthur looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure. Everyone else under the curse is some manner of statue, not talking animals. But Merlin's been around since I could remember." The prince's expression grew solemn at that. "He's the only friend I have." Arthur straightened and turned to Lancelot. "Don't say anything about him in front of my father. He's paranoid about magic."

Lancelot nodded, still unsure what to make of all this.

"So, I am to be your manservant? Your highness," he added quickly.

"You can just call me Arthur."

"Arthur…" Lancelot grimaced. "I'm afraid I don't know much about being a servant. I grew up in a small village."

"Oh, well, your duties would be bringing me meals, cleaning my chambers, fetching things. Like water for my bath."

A moment of awkwardness descended between them. This wasn't what Lancelot had expected to fall into, but he supposed it was better than being dead.

Merlin hopped off the table. "I can show Lancelot where everything is."

Arthur waved for them to go on, and so Lancelot turned and dubiously followed the talking cat back out into the corridor.

Merlin led him down to the kitchen where a bunch of statues stood affixed to various stations—one next to the oven with an arm melding into a flat wooden board for taking things in and out; another had knives for hands and was standing over a cutting board. No one was currently moving. Lancelot found the whole display rather frightening.

"The servants make the meals at the same times every day," Merlin informed him. "So you only have to pick them up and bring them to Arthur's chambers."

"Oh, okay…"

Merlin turned around and led Lancelot out a nearby door to a well where another serving statue stood ready to bring up water, empty buckets lined in a row beside them.

"What did Arthur do for servants before?" Lancelot asked curiously.

"Not all the servants are stuck at their stations," Merlin replied. "Some of them are able to move around, but, given their condition, they're rather stiff and slow." The feline jumped up onto the well's stone rim, whiskers twitching seriously. "As regretful as it is that you've gotten caught up in this place, it'll be good for Arthur to have a human companion. There's only so much a talking cat can do."

Lancelot didn't know if he was supposed to feel complimented by that or not. "Is there any hope of breaking the curse?"

The cat let out a somber exhalation. "If Uther was to repent of his wickedness, then maybe. But that will never happen. His heart is too black."

Lancelot frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It started before Arthur was born," Merlin explained. "The queen was barren, and Uther used magic so she would conceive an heir, but life magic isn't something to be trifled with. There's a give and take. Arthur was given life, and the queen died in childbirth. Uther was so overcome with grief and rage that he declared all magic evil and began to hunt down and execute anyone who practiced it. And so the same sorceress he once called upon as a friend to help him came back and cursed him, locked him away as a monster in this castle so he couldn't hurt anymore people, his exterior made to match the bestial soul within."

Lancelot winced and glanced at the unmoving servant by the well. "But why curse everyone here?"

Merlin sighed. "The sorceress was just as hurt and vengeful as Uther. Not a good combination."

"Why are you not a statue like the rest? Or are there other talking animals around?"

"Nope, just me," Merlin said with a toothy grin. "I'm just special that way."

"And Arthur? He's not cursed, is he?"

"Cursed to be a prisoner here like everyone else. He was five years old at the time. Perhaps the sorceress took pity on him because he was so young; perhaps she left him as the one thing to remind Uther of his humanity."

Lancelot wrinkled his brow, thinking how grown the prince was now. "I guess it didn't work," he said quietly.

"Not really." Merlin hopped down from the well and trotted back toward the castle. "Come on, we'll get some extra blankets and bedding for you."

Lancelot followed the cat to a storage room where he gathered up an armful of blankets and a pillow, and then they headed back up to Arthur's chambers. The prince was sitting in a chair by the window, reading a book. Lancelot looked around the room uncertainly before going to a bare corner to set up his bedding. Once everything was laid out in a pile of as much cushion as he could get, he sat down, unsure what to do next.

It wasn't long before a bell rang, startling him.

"That's the dinner bell," Arthur told him.

Lancelot took that as his cue to get up and go down to the kitchen to retrieve the prince's supper. He tried to remember the way Merlin had shown him, and thankfully managed to make it there without getting lost.

Watching the now animated statues work like mechanical gear people was unnerving. But they were efficient, and a plate of food was set on the center work table next to a pitcher of wine.

"Thank you," Lancelot said as he picked them up. The statues, of course, didn't respond, but it felt wrong to treat them like lifeless fixtures when there were real human beings trapped inside.

He brought the plate and wine back up to Arthur's chambers and set them on the prince's private dining table. Lancelot then stood back awkwardly as Arthur dug in.

Arthur paused with a piece of meat halfway to his mouth. "Oh. You need to eat too."

Lancelot's stomach rumbled in response, much to his embarrassment. He was hungry, had been for days, but his shock and terror over being in this cursed castle had momentarily made him forget it. And he supposed he couldn't blame Arthur for the oversight, since it seemed the prince was the only person who actually ate food in this place.

"Go back down to the kitchen and inform the staff they'll be preparing meals for an extra person from now on," Arthur said.

Lancelot hesitated, then gave an awkward bow and backed out of the room. He trekked all the way back downstairs to the kitchen where the staff appeared to be cleaning up for the evening.

"Um, excuse me," he said.

They stopped and turned granite eyes to him.

"Um, I'll be staying here. As Prince Arthur's servant." Or slave, he thought wryly with the chains weighing his arms down. "He said to include a portion for me in the daily meals from now on."

He wasn't sure whether the statues even understood a word he said, but they suddenly set aside their cleaning rags and brought out ingredients to make up a plate of food on the spot. Lancelot didn't know whether he was supposed to take it back upstairs or eat in the kitchen like a proper servant. He was hungry enough that he decided to scarf it down right there. And when he was finished, he was still hungry.

"Um, I don't suppose there's any more I could have?" he asked the statues nervously.

In their silence there was no judgement, and they set to work again to make another plate.

"Thank you," Lancelot said earnestly when they served it to him. "It was very good, by the way."

They just stared at him for a moment before returning to their cleaning.

Lancelot ate most of his second serving and then pocketed several bits in case he got hungry again later. He then went back upstairs to the prince's chambers.

Arthur was still sitting at the table with an air of impatience, his plate still half full. "Did you have any problems?" he asked tensely.

Lancelot shook his head, then realized perhaps he had taken too long with that second helping. "I ate down there," he replied. "I'm sorry…I didn't know the protocol for servants."

Arthur frowned. "Oh. Well, next time you might as well just bring yours up here with mine."

Lancelot nodded, and Arthur resumed eating his own supper. When he was finished, Lancelot made yet another trip to the kitchen to deposit the empty plate and pitcher to be washed.

He was exhausted and sore from climbing all these stairs, and he really hoped there weren't going to be any more expectations of him that night. But it seemed Arthur was happy to retire to bed, and so Lancelot was finally able to collapse onto his bedroll. He kicked off his shoes and burrowed under the blankets. It was difficult getting comfortable with the iron shackles and chain, but the blankets were softer than anything he'd slept on in a while, and he had a roof over his head and a warm fire a few feet away.

All in all, he supposed things could be worse.