Rain poured down on Arthur, soaking his clothing. He huddled on the floor of the cage, shivers wracking him. His teeth chattered, shooting waves of pain throughout his jaw.
He never should have gone hunting that day. He should have stayed home and read the reports he had been avoiding.
His chest was clogged. He coughed hard. Pain stabbed into his chest.
He drifted off to sleep still coughing.
"All right, fine," Lethervale said. "Move him down. He might as well give you entertainment." He chuckled.
Arthur shivered, jerking awake. He sat up. A cough rose up in him.
The guards stared at him, laughing amongst themselves. One grabbed the hook and pulled him in.
Arthur gripped the bars to steady himself in the swaying cage. "Let me go. Please," he mumbled. He coughed hard, his shoulders shaking.
The guards burst into laughter.
"Let you go?" Boar said. "Oh, slave, you should know better." He kicked Arthur's ribs through the bars.
Arthur shied away from Boar. He hid his face in his arms. He couldn't risk any more damage to his jaw.
The cage rocked. He refused to look out at those who undoubtedly gawked at the prince in the cage. Finally, the cage stopped swaying. He peeked out and shuddered.
The cage had been hung at a second story level of the castle, just above the busiest part of the castle courtyard.
Boar led a large group of guards and soldiers to gather beneath the cage.
"Look at that, the young prince up in a cage," Boar said. "I guess you were right. You really are above us all."
Arthur shrank back until his back hit the bars. He tried to talk back, but too much pain shot through his jaw. He didn't want to be above anyone. He just wanted to be left alone at home with his family and friends.
Boar hefted a rotten apple in his hands. He tossed it at Arthur. The soft, rancid fruit burst against his forehead.
Arthur swiped the fruit away from his face. He shrank in on himself. The less he presented to be hit, the better.
The crowd of guards pitched a hail of missiles at him. Apples, peaches, and apricots burst against his face and his ribs. Rotten filth tingled his nose. His stomach heaved. He pressed a hand against his mouth, keeping back the urge to vomit.
A radish smashed into his knee. A rock drove into his nose. Involuntary tears sprang to his eyes. The rock fell into his lap. He grabbed it and tossed it back, tears blurring his ability to see its landing.
A man roared. A solid pear slammed into Arthur's forehead.
"Get him!" a woman cried.
Arthur wiped the tears from his eyes. A trickle of blood made its way from his nose. He wiped that away as well and set his gaze on the sea of enemies.
Another hail of fruits, vegetables, and rocks sailed towards him. His eyes widened. He didn't even have the time to protect himself before the missiles smashed into his forehead, his nose, his arms, and his ribs. He jerked away from the trajectory of a particularly large rock heading for his face. He scooped a non-rotten apple up from the bottom of his cage and pelted it at the face of a guard below him.
A rock sailed from the side, smashing into his hand. Agonizing pain coursed through his hand. He tried to flex his fingers, but all he got was stiffness and pain. He brought his other hand up to feel for broken bones.
Another rock smashed his uninjured hand. He gritted his teeth against a scream. His vision whited out for a second.
He cradled both his hands against his chest and scooted backwards until his back hit the bars.
An apple slammed into his temple. He slumped against the bars, his head buzzing.
He couldn't stop the hail of missiles that flew after that. Pain soon throbbed from all sides, and rotten fruit coated him. Finally, though, the physical missiles came to an end.
But the crowd was not to be deterred.
"Look at you up there, you haughty arrogant brat!"
"You worthless piece of scum!"
"You're a useless waste of space!"
"You're a pointless, good-for-nothing scoundrel!"
"Murderer!"
Many others echoed the cry. "Murderer!"
"Slaver!"
"You're nothing!"
"You're no one!"
Arthur shuddered. The words pounded into his head, sinking into his soul. Gwen had said he would live to be the man she saw inside him. Merlin had an odd faith in him.
They couldn't both be wrong. Could they?
Arthur didn't come back to his cell that night. Merlin tried not to freak out. Maybe Arthur had mouthed off too much and they were working him overnight.
But he didn't return the next day either. Or that night.
"Hello?" Merlin kicked the cell door. "Arthur? What have you done with Arthur? Bring him back!"
He shouted magic spells at the door. Nothing happened, of course, because of the cuffs, but he kept trying.
