A/N: Thank you Buckhunter, Hodophile-Sandhiller, SnidgetHex, and GuestM for reviewing!

Chapter 3

Lancelot hadn't slept so deeply in a long time, but he was woken the next morning by the sound of the door opening and some wooden servants hobbling in. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, the shackles chafing against his wrists and the chain bumping his chest. Arthur was already up.

"Your attendance won't be required from now on," the prince told the wooden statues.

They stood there for a prolonged beat as though unable to understand the dismissal. Arthur waited until they finally turned around and clopped back out. He then stood there in his shirt with an expectant look toward Lancelot, who scrambled to his feet but was embarrassed to admit he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

"My coat," Arthur prompted.

Lancelot hurried over to retrieve the garment from the back of the chair and held it up for Arthur to slip his arms though. Arthur then gestured to the bed, and Lancelot supposed he should make it, so he went over to straighten the sheets and blankets. It was a little awkward with the dangling chain between his hands.

Then came the breakfast bell, and Lancelot went down to the kitchen to retrieve it. There were two plates, one for him, so he brought them both back up and hesitantly took a seat at Arthur's table to eat with him.

"I am sorry for all this," Arthur apologized again. "Do- do you have family that will be wondering what happened to you?"

Lancelot dropped his gaze to his plate. "No. My village was destroyed."

"By magic?" Arthur asked too readily.

Lancelot shook his head. "No, raiders. They plundered what they wanted and burned the rest. I'm the only one who escaped."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

They fell silent after that. Merlin sat in front of the hearth, giving himself a bath.

After breakfast, Arthur informed Lancelot he had clothes that needed to be laundered. Lancelot gathered them up, but before he had a chance to feel self-conscious about not knowing what to do with them, Merlin got up and said he'd show Lancelot where to bring them. Fortunately, there were servants who did the washing, so at least Lancelot didn't have to spend all day in the steam room and worry about making a mistake and ruining Arthur's nice garments.

As he was walking back through the castle, he made a wrong turn and ended up passing an alcove with a bronze statue of a woman and a harp gleaming in the sunlight streaming through an open window. The sun-kissed bits of bronze almost glittered with gold highlights. Lancelot stopped to admire her striking beauty.

Then the statue's eyes opened and Lancelot startled. Was every statue in this place a cursed inhabitant?

"Hello," he said awkwardly. "My apologies if I disturbed you."

She didn't respond, of course, but her eyes seemed filled with such sadness that it tugged at Lancelot's heart. She lifted her arms and began to strum her fingers over the harp strings. The resulting melody was so melancholic that Lancelot felt waves of sorrow like physical ebbs and flows through his soul. It was as though she were communicating through the music.

A falcon abruptly flew through the open window to land on the crest of the harp, sharp eyes blinking at Lancelot. He stared back, unsure what to make of it. Birds of prey didn't typically fly into castles like this. He didn't know if he should shoo it away or not.

"Her name is Guinevere," Merlin's voice interrupted, and Lancelot turned as the cat trotted into the hall. "She's the blacksmith's daughter. And that's her brother, Elyan."

Lancelot cast a confused look at the falcon. "I thought you said everyone under the curse were statues and you were the only talking animal?"

"Elyan can't talk, and he's not under the original curse," Merlin explained. "He'd left Camelot shortly after the purge started. He had a wandering spirit. But when he heard what had befallen the castle, he came back to rescue his sister and father. It didn't go well."

The falcon turned its keen gaze on Merlin, ruffling its feathers almost indignantly.

"What happened?" Lancelot asked.

"Uther turns trespassers into animals," Merlin answered. "That's what he would have done to you if Arthur hadn't begged for a servant instead."

Lancelot's stomach cramped at the thought. "There are others?"

The cat bobbed his head. "Several knights have come seeking to slay the rumored beast, but Uther turned them all into beasts themselves for their trouble."

"I thought Uther hated magic and wanted to ban it."

"Yeeeah, Uther's a hypocrite that way."

Lancelot canted his head at the cat curiously. "But you're not someone he cursed."

"Nope. Like I said, I'm a special case."

Lancelot got the feeling there was more to Merlin than he was letting on, but he decided not to press. Guinevere continued to play the harp and Lancelot stood there listening to the lilting, mournful notes. Then the music petered out with the end of the tune and Guinevere's nimble fingers stopped as she went still, almost lifeless. Like a statue.

Lancelot's heart ached for her predicament, and he wished there was some way he could break the curse if only to free her. But he supposed that was naive to consider; after all, many had come before and failed.

He returned to Arthur's chambers with Merlin and set to cleaning the room. Arthur and Merlin sat down at the table with a game of chess, Merlin using his paw to nudge his pieces across the board. Lancelot was getting used to seeing weird things.

"Lancelot," Arthur suddenly spoke up. "Do you know how to play?"

"Uh, no," he replied regretfully.

Arthur waved him over. "We can teach you."

Lancelot hesitantly took a seat behind Merlin's side of the board. "Are you sure? I don't want to detract from your game."

"Merlin and I have played each other so long we can practically read each other's minds now," Arthur answered.

"A change of pace will be good," Merlin echoed.

Lancelot didn't say it would be a very slow pace.

Arthur and Merlin gave him an introduction to the pieces and then started a game. Lancelot had absolutely no idea what he was doing and picked a random piece to move. His wrist chains knocked over several pieces as he reached for the knight.

"Sorry," he said abashedly, hurrying to right the pieces.

Arthur's mouth thinned, but he said, "It's okay."

Lancelot tried to be more careful after that as they continued to exchange moves. Merlin gave Lancelot instructions on which pieces to move, but Arthur still won in the end.

"Not bad," the prince commented as he put the chess set away and Lancelot returned to cleaning.

The next several days passed in repetition: Lancelot performing his servant duties, learning to play chess with Arthur, and Merlin showing him around more of the castle so he began to get a feel for the place and had less chance of getting lost. Merlin took him by the staircase to the east wing and warned him to stay out of there, as that was where Uther dwelled. Lancelot committed its appearance to memory so he wouldn't make that mistake ever.

The chores were backbreaking in the beginning, as was the constant going up and down several flights of stairs, but as Lancelot had more full servings of food every day and proper rest at night, his strength and stamina steadily built up.

"Tell me about your home," Arthur said one morning over breakfast. "Before it was destroyed."

Lancelot paused with a spoonful of porridge halfway to his mouth. "Well, it was very small. Single-room homes with thatched roofs. My sister and I slept in the loft. We had a goat and some chickens, and a little vegetable plot." He trailed off, thinking this all must be rather boring, but Arthur looked completely interested, so Lancelot went on. "There was a river not far where we would sometimes fish. It came down from the mountains to the east, which were usually always capped in white, even in summer sometimes."

"It sounds beautiful." Arthur's expression sobered. "I'm sorry about what happened to it."

Lancelot dropped his gaze at that, his porridge suddenly feeling heavier.

"What about other places you traveled afterward?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, there were many of those." They weren't so interesting in and of themselves, but to someone who had spent his entire life locked in a castle, it was probably fascinating, so Lancelot leaned back in his chair and regaled Arthur with tales of the people he'd met and towns he'd visited, making sure to describe them in detail.

"You never found one you wanted to stay in?" Arthur asked.

Lancelot hesitated. "Well…actually, no one wanted me hanging around. I had no money, no skills." He let out a small huff and lifted his chained arms. "Despite appearances, I've received more kindness here than anywhere else."

Arthur frowned at that. "I've always dreamed of seeing the world one day," he remarked.

Lancelot didn't ask if his father would allow it; he could guess the answer. "Why haven't you just…left?" he asked tentatively. "Is that part of the curse?"

Arthur looked away. "No. I tried to leave once. Not even to run away, but just to explore the woods outside the walls. My father tracked me down and was so furious…" Arthur shuddered. "I haven't tried to set foot outside again. My father would just bring me back." He shrugged. "I can't outrun a beast."

Their conversation ceased and they finished their breakfast in silence. Lancelot hadn't even thought yet about trying to escape one day, but he supposed that was warning enough that he shouldn't try. He didn't want to be turned into an animal after all…

Lancelot never saw the beast again after that first night, until one day he was walking through the castle and Uther suddenly cornered him, his hulking mass towering over Lancelot. There were barely any human features behind the fur and fangs, and even his eyes had a feral gleam to them.

"You seem to be working out as my son's manservant," Uther rumbled. "You shall start serving me as well. Bring my supper at 6:00 after you deliver Arthur's."

Lancelot nodded fearfully, trying to keep his gaze averted. Uther chuffed and turned around to skulk off, leaving Lancelot slumping against the wall in relief and terror.

That night, he retrieved both his and Arthur's plates from the kitchen to bring to the prince's chambers.

"Um, your father ordered me to bring him his supper in the evenings now," Lancelot said.

Arthur looked perturbed by that, as did Merlin by the glance they exchanged with each other.

"Oh, okay," Arthur replied. It wasn't like either of them could go against the king.

So Lancelot headed out on his own, his anxiety escalating as he picked up the king's plate of a whole cooked chicken from the kitchen and then made his way up into the east wing. This portion of the castle was much darker, with claw marks down the stone and torn through tapestries. The windows were all covered up, making the ambience even more ominous as he passed through torch lit halls.

A set of armored guards outside a door were his only clue as to where he was expected, and inside was an empty dining room. He cautiously entered and set the plate on the table, unsure if he was supposed to wait for Uther or not. Part of him wanted to flee while he had the chance.

He felt the air shift and whirled to find Uther looming over him from behind. The beast pushed past him and went to sit in the large chair at the head of the table, pulling the plate of chicken closer with a scraping sound. Lancelot started to slowly inch back toward the door.

"You are not dismissed yet," Uther snapped.

Lancelot jerked ramrod straight and held still as Uther dug into his meal. Lancelot's gorge rose as he watched Uther tear into that chicken with his fangs.

"Where are you from, boy?" Uther asked, mouth dripping with juice from the meat.

"A small village that no longer exists," he replied, barely able to get his voice to carry through the hall.

"And what do you think about magic?"

Lancelot knew he had to tread very carefully. "I don't know," he hedged. "I've never encountered it before coming here. But from what I've seen…it's dangerous."

Uther hummed. "It is. Magic is evil and must be destroyed."

Lancelot tried not to fidget under the beast's scrutinizing gaze. Was he testing Lancelot's sympathies simply because he was here? Or did he have another purpose? Lancelot hoped Uther didn't know about Arthur's cat.

But Uther didn't say anything about Merlin, and after several more tense moments, he returned to his supper. "You are dismissed."

Lancelot turned and fled as quickly as his feet could carry him. He hurried out of the east wing before collapsing against a wall, his heart thudding against his ribs. A suit of armor appeared in front of him, scaring him half to death.

But the knight didn't appear threatening, his metallic expression one of commiseration instead. He took up a guard post at the bottom of the steps, looking solemn as the solo sentinel.

Lancelot took a breath and straightened, then headed back to Arthur's chambers.

Arthur was pacing anxiously and spun as soon as Lancelot opened the door. "Are you all right? What did my father want?"

"I'm fine. And he wanted me to stand at attention while he ate. And he questioned me on my views on magic."

Arthur stiffened. "And what did you say?"

"That from what I've seen, it's dangerous."

Arthur nodded. "Okay. Okay, that's probably fine. And you didn't mention Merlin?"

"I would never," Lancelot vowed.

Arthur's shoulders drooped in relief. "Thank you."

Merlin piped up from where he sat on the dining table. "I only nicked a small piece of chicken from your plate."

Lancelot's stomach churned unpleasantly; he wasn't sure he could bring himself to eat that anyway at the moment. "You can have it," he told the cat. "I'll just eat the bread and cheese."

Merlin flicked his tail in anticipation as Lancelot took a seat and tossed some of the chicken to him. He gobbled it down much more neatly than Uther had his.

Arthur had finished his meal while waiting this time, but he stayed sitting at the table as Lancelot finished his supper.

That night when they went to bed, Merlin came over to Lancelot's pallet.

"Are you really all right?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Lancelot murmured. He hadn't been hurt, only frightened.

"Okay." Merlin curled up against his hip, settling into a rhythmic, soothing purr.

Lancelot closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he was realizing that he'd let himself forget his situation. Arthur may have been nice, but he wasn't the master of the castle. The real master was a very dangerous figure indeed.