Arthur reeled against Merlin, who was still holding onto him tightly. They were walking now, which was hard. Arthur didn't like that at all. The ground kept tilting underneath him. His legs threatened to buckle and spill him onto the ground, and even though Arthur didn't really know what was happening he knew that he didn't want that. If he fell, he might hurt his head. And his head already hurt a lot. Arthur wasn't sure if he could take much more.

Merlin wasn't talking to him, which Arthur found rather strange. Merlin was always talking. That was...that was what he did. He didn't seem to know how to shut up. But now, unless the knock to his head had somehow made Arthur deaf, Merlin was completely silent.

That must mean the situation they were in, whatever it was, was pretty dire. But Arthur just...he couldn't remember. He had a vague memory of riding out with his knights that morning, looking for...something too complicated, something that made his head hurt to think about. But it was as if the last few hours had been completely removed, turned into nothing but a blank blur. He had no idea where they were. He knew it was bad, because Merlin was silent. He kind of remembered all of the knights being in a big room, a big...a big strange room, and Merlin had been there as well. He was fairly certain that someone had asked for his name, and he had given it. He wasn't sure why they cared who he was. He didn't remember much else.

There was another person with him and Merlin now, he realized. He could hear the third set of footsteps. He cracked his eyes open just the tiniest bit, and saw that there was a man in long robes in front of him. He couldn't make out any more details than that, and he had to close his eyes very quickly. His insides didn't seem to want to stay on the inside, and he had to swallow hard and turn his face into Merlin's shoulder to keep from vomiting again.

Merlin rubbed his back, and he might have whispered something, Arthur wasn't sure. The sound of a lock and key, a door opening. Arthur cracked his eyes again in time to see him and Merlin shoved into a small, dimly lit room. The pressure on his shoulder was slight, but his balance was gone and it sent him to his knees. Pain crashed through his head, and his stomach churned. He whimpered.

Merlin grabbed his shoulders, adjusted his legs, helped him find his balance. Dimly, Arthur knew he should be embarrassed. This wasn't like him. This wasn't like a prince.

"You'll be alright," Merlin was saying. "You'll be alright. We're gonna figure out a way to get out of here."

Arthur heard the words, but the meaning fell away as he tried to understand it. He closed his eyes, trying to process Merlin's words. Why couldn't he understand?

"We're going to be alright," Merlin said again, and this time Arthur managed to hold onto his voice. Merlin was telling him that they would make it through this, whatever this was.

"Okay," Arthur managed, or thought he managed. He opened his eyes just long enough to see Merlin's smile, and then a bolt of pain shot through his head and he closed his eyes.

Merlin knelt on the stone floor, gently touching Arthur's shoulder. Arthur whimpered again, flinching back away from Merlin.

"What's wrong?" Merlin asked softly, looking more closely at Arthur's shoulder. Now that he wasn't preoccupied by the threat of impending death, something did look off about it. "Are you hurt?"

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut tight, looking as though he were struggling to process Merlin's words. "Yeah," he finally gasped out.

"This might hurt," Merlin warned him, and as gently as he could, moved Arthur's shirt to the side so he could see his shoulder.

Arthur hissed in pain, and Merlin let go.

"It's dislocated," Merlin said, wincing in sympathy. "I'm going to have to put this back in. Don't worry, I've watched Gaius do it loads of times. Well, I've watched him do it twice."

Merlin stared at Arthur expectantly, but all Arthur did was sway slightly dizzily. Merlin sighed.

"I'm sorry about this," he said softly. He grabbed Arthur's shoulder and pushed. There was a pop, and Arthur's eyes flew open as he gasped in outraged pain. Merlin had just enough time to notice that his pupils weren't responding to light before Arthur doubled over, retching onto the stone floor.

Merlin wrapped an arm around Arthur's back, taking care not to jostle his bad shoulder. He wasn't sure if Arthur was going to be able to stay upright much longer, not without help.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered, rubbing Arthur's back.

Arthur coughed a few more times, then brought a hand back to his forehead and groaned again.

"Don't touch that," Merlin said, grabbing Arthur's hand and pulling it back from the wound on his head. "You'll make it worse."

Arthur frowned slightly, trying to pull his hand away from Merlin. It was disconcerting how easy it was for Merlin to hold on.

"Stop," Arthur mumbled, slurring the word so badly that it took a second for Merlin to decode what he meant. "Arm...hurts."

"I know it does," Merlin said. "You dislocated your shoulder. But I put it back into place, so it should hurt a bit less now. Or...soon." Merlin had never dislocated his shoulder before, and he didn't have an exact sense of the timing of these sorts of things. But he figured that it couldn't take that long for the arm to start feeling better, and anyways, the pain in his head would probably distract him pretty soon.

Arthur blinked unhappily at Merlin but didn't say anything. He had gone rather pale, and Merlin was a worried that he was feeling sick to his stomach again.

"I'm going to get a better look at your head now, alright?" Merlin said.

"My arm."

"No, I already fixed your arm. I know it hurts, but I did everything that I could. I'm going to try and get a look at your head now."

Arthur swallowed hard and nodded slightly. Merlin moved closer to him and cupped his face in his hand, tilting his head slightly this way and that to get a sense of the injury. It wasn't bleeding anymore, which Merlin supposed could only be a good thing. But the place where he'd been hit was terribly swollen and dark with bruising. And Arthur's hair was matted to his forehead with blood, so unless Merlin got ahold of some water he still couldn't really get a good look at the full extent of the injury.

Arthur made a small, distressed mumbling sound and tried to peel Merlin's hand away from his face. "Stop," he muttered. "Don' do that."

Then, as if the pain in his head was just dawning on him for the first time, his fingers were back up and exploring the wound again.

"Stop that," Merlin said, and he realized that if he didn't want the Prince to reinjure himself further, his first order of business really did need to be to get some sort of bandage on the wound. Merlin considered for a second, then untied his kerchief from around his neck, folded it into a long strip, and tied that around Arthur's head. It half-obscured Arthur's right eye, not that it really mattered. Merlin thought it was too swollen for Arthur to open, and his vision clearly wasn't focusing properly anyways.

Arthur opened his good eye, looking angry and distressed. But to Merlin's relief, he didn't try to take the bandage off. He just stared at Merlin in confusion, like he had a question on the tip of his tongue but just couldn't figure out how to form the words.

"Hey," Merlin said gently. "You with me?"

Arthur blinked slowly and nodded.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Merlin asked, holding up three fingers.

"Five," Arthur whispered. "No...three."

Merlin looked down at his three fingers and winced. "Well, at least you got it the second time," he said quietly.

Arthur didn't respond, just listed forward, eye drooping shut again.

"Arthur? You have to stay awake," Merlin said, gripping Arthur's uninjured shoulder. He thought he had read that in one of Gaius's books. Arthur wasn't supposed to go to sleep, Merlin had to make sure he didn't get any worse.

Arthur blinked lazily, then tilted a bit further forward. Merlin moved his other hand to Arthur's cheek, patting it to try to keep him from closing his eyes.

"Stop," Arthur mumbled. "'M tired."

"You need to stay awake," Merlin begged. "Please."

"Can't," Arthur slurred, and tipped all the way into Merlin's shoulder.

"Arthur? Arthur!" Merlin shook the Prince, but Arthur only growled, then hissed in pain, likely as Merlin jostled his head or shoulder. Merlin subsided instantly, guilt washing over him.

"Alright," Merlin told Arthur. "I'm going to let you sleep, but just a bit. I need to wake you up every so often, okay?"

Arthur didn't respond, which was about what Merlin had expected. Carefully, Merlin eased Arthur's weight off his shoulder and shrugged out of his coat, which he balled up and placed on the floor. Then, holding his breath and hoping Arthur wouldn't choose this moment to wake up fully and make some sort of sudden movement, Merlin eased Arthur down so he was lying with his head on the jacket. It wasn't much, but it should be more comfortable than the stone floor.

Arthur murmured something unintelligible and curled in on himself, most likely against the cold of the flagstones. Merlin wished he had something else that he could put over Arthur, to protect him from the cold somewhat.

Arthur murmured again. He looked smaller than usual. Arthur had a presence about him, some quality that grabbed your attention as soon as he entered the room. Merlin supposed it made sense, for someone born into a royal family. But there was another part of it too, loath as Merlin was to admit it to Arthur's face. He carried himself like a leader, and unlike his title, that was something he'd earned. There wasn't anyone Merlin would rather rely on in a situation like this one.

But Arthur wasn't grinning and making horribly ill-thought out escape plans that somehow ended up working. He was lying curled on a cold dungeon floor, injured, unconscious, and vulnerable. It was becoming more and more obvious that Merlin couldn't wait around for Arthur to recover enough to figure something out.

But for now, Merlin just needed to focus on taking care of Arthur. Tomorrow, maybe, once he'd figured out what was going on, why they needed Arthur, what was going to be done to them, once Arthur was just resting instead of lying shivering in a ball, unable to even open his eyes, then maybe Merlin would be able to start thinking of a plan.

Arthur felt like he'd been sleeping no time at all when Merlin was shaking his shoulder lightly, rousing him. Arthur blinked his eyes open and watched as Merlin's face slowly swam into focus.

"Hey," Merlin said. "You with me?"

"Lemme sleep," Arthur mumbled, starting to turn over to go back to bed. Except he wasn't in his bed, he was on the ground, and the ground was cold, and he was confused and kind of scared. And god, his head hurt. What had happened? Had he been hitting the drink?

"Arthur, do you remember what's happened?" Merlin asked. "Do you know where we are?"

The tone of Merlin's voice told Arthur that Merlin knew the answer, he just wanted to see if Arthur did, which was rather confusing and strange. Arthur cast his mind back as far as he could and came up with a few blurry images of being attacked on horseback, held in a high-ceilinged room, thrown into a stone cell. Turning these images into words seemed awfully difficult though, and trying to come up with a thread to tie everything together was making his head pound sickeningly.

"Do you know your name?" Merlin asked worriedly.

"Arthur." Stupid question. Why did Merlin always have to ask such stupid questions?

"And-" Merlin cut off. Arthur's eyes were slipping closed. If all Merlin was going to do was ask things he clearly already knew the answer to, Arthur figured he might as well sleep.

He felt that he'd only just nodded off when he felt Merlin slapping the side of his face, waking him up again.

"Arthur!" he was saying, his voice loud and abrasive. "Arthur, wake up!

He sounded panicked enough that Arthur wondered if he'd been harder to rouse this time.

"Hey," he said the second Arthur's eyes slid open. "You're, uh...do you know where we are?"

"Cell," Arthur managed. The floor was unforgiving stone, he was absolutely freezing, and he didn't remember the last time he'd had any water. He didn't think there was anywhere else he could be.

"Guess you...guess you know your name then…."

Arthur vaguely remembered being hit in the head, and that's why Merlin kept waking him up and asking him all these stupid questions. It felt good to have a handle on that.

But already, he was falling asleep again. He wasn't...whatever Merlin was worried about, it was fine. He was just exhausted. He would be fine, he just needed to...to sleep some more….

"Arthur, hang on," Merlin said frantically. He held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Five," Arthur murmured sleepily, and then he was gone again.

"Name?"

"Arthur."

"Where are we?"

"Cell?"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Five."

And repeat. Arthur wasn't sure how many times it happened, and he wasn't sure why it kept happening, and all he wanted to do was sleep and Merlin wasn't letting him.

"How many fingers?"

"Five...three."

"Yeah, yeah, almost."

Merlin sounded a bit happier, Arthur thought. He wanted to stay awake and see if he could make him cheer up. He thought Merlin was worried about him. Merlin shouldn't be worried about him, he was fine, he just needed to sleep….

Merlin startled awake from his uneasy sleep as the door to the cell clanged open. He instinctively sat up, placing himself in between Arthur and the newcomers.

The men didn't say anything, just swept silently across the floor and shoved Merlin aside. They grabbed Arthur, who startled awake. His reflexes were much slower than normal, Merlin thought. Ordinarily, Arthur would have been on his feet and ready to fight before the men were within reach. Just another thing for Merlin to worry about.

"Where are you taking him?" Merlin gasped, thinking he probably knew the answer but really not wanting to hear it.

"Where do you think?" growled one of the men, and Merlin recognized the voice as their jailor from the previous night. "We're gonna torture 'im till 'e tells us who Arthur is."

"You'll get him back," the other man said. "In one piece, if you're lucky."

The men snorted with laughter as they hauled Arthur up. He'd opened his eyes at the sound of his name, and now he seemed to be trying to form words.

And that was a problem. Merlin hadn't had a chance to explain what was going on to Arthur. Arthur had barely even understood where he was, he certainly wasn't going to be able to grasp that he had to lie about his identity...especially not when Merlin had spent the entire night asking him to say his name. If anything was at the forefront of his muddled brain right now, it was going to be that. As soon as the men started asking Arthur to give away the identity of the Crown Prince of Camelot, Arthur was going to blow the whole thing and likely get himself killed as a result.

Merlin spent a split second panicking. He couldn't make a scene, or that would give Arthur away. Arthur was too out of it to understand any hidden, veiled messages, and Merlin wasn't sure what he would be able to say in front of the guards anyways. So Merlin did the only thing he could think of.

He whispered a few words under his breath, heart twisting as he did it. He was about to make Arthur very confused and upset, and he wasn't even sure when he would next really be able to talk to Arthur and make sure he was okay. But he simply didn't have another choice. If he didn't act, Arthur was going to give them all away.

Arthur's eyes cleared a little bit, and he looked up at Merlin, clearly about to ask him something. But when he opened his mouth, no words came out. Even though he was still clearly struggling to process what was happening, Merlin saw alarm cross his face, then panic. Merlin swallowed hard. He didn't want to have to take the Prince's voice, but more importantly, he didn't want concussed Arthur to inadvertently throw the sacrifice the knights had made away.

Arthur managed a single, pained whine, and then he was being half-lead, half-dragged out of the room by the two men. Merlin sucked in a shaky breath. He'd had a long past day and a half, and he was exhausted and hungry and achy and worried. And now he'd had to essentially gag the crown prince of Camelot, his best friend, without even being able to warn him. If the men hadn't been lying, and they did in fact bring Arthur back to him, at least he'd be able to lift the spell. But he still wasn't going to be able to tell Arthur what he'd done, and reassure him that it had been a last resort and something that would never happen again. Arthur would be forever left wondering why he'd suddenly gone mute.

And that was all assuming, of course, that they did in fact bring Arthur back.

It occured to Merlin for the first time that they might be coming for him next. Any time now the door to the cell might bang open again, and then he would be whisked off to have who knows what done to him. And he knew if they didn't torture him now, they would torture him eventually. They were certainly torturing all of the "Arthurs," trying to get something that they could use to identify the real one. It was only a matter of time.

To be completely honest, Merlin wasn't sure why they hadn't just killed all of the fake Arthurs yet, knowing that even though they were killing a lot of innocents, at least they were getting the real Crown Prince as well. Maybe the clean up would be too messy, or they didn't want to have to listen to that many people scream. Merlin figured that the knights would only have a day or two before the people who had captured him decided that was the best course of action, and then Merlin would probably wish he was being tortured.

The cell door clanging open startled Merlin so badly he literally jumped. He figured only about an hour could have gone by since they'd taken Arthur, so he was desperately surprised when Arthur was shoved bodily back into the cell, battered and bruised but still very much alive.

As soon as the two men let go of Arthur, he hit the floor with a wordless groan and tried to curl in on himself. Merlin instantly began scrambling towards him.

"Hurts, don't it?" the taller of the two hissed. "Next time, open your fucking mouth and it won't be so bad."

Arthur blinked, his expression a mix of confusion, fear, and befuddled pain. He didn't answer, because, of course, he couldn't. Merlin had made sure of that.

"Leave 'im," the other man said, then aimed a vicious kick at Arthur's ribs. Merlin froze where he was, halfway to Arthur, horrified.

"Maybe this'll teach him to talk," the taller one said, kicking Arthur as well. Arthur let out an agonized whine and then suddenly went limp, eyes rolling back in his head. The door clanged shut, barely doing anything to block out the echo of Arthur's cry that was ringing in Merlin's ears.

Merlin made it the rest of the way to Arthur, dropping to his knees beside his friend. Arthur had a few more cuts and bruises on his face, nothing too serious there, but each new mark felt like a knife to Merlin's gut. This was his fault. The two men had tortured Arthur, then tortured him more when he wouldn't - or couldn't - speak.

"I'm so sorry," Merlin mumbled, hating how empty the words were. Arthur would never know that this had been Merlin's doing, and he would never get to hear Merlin's apology. Merlin couldn't take the pain away, or undo what he'd done, and what was worse was he would make the same choice over again if he had to. Arthur's life was at stake, and Merlin would do whatever it took to keep him safe. Even if that meant him getting hurt more.

Merlin whispered the words needed to break the spell, then tried to move Arthur into a more comfortable position. At Merlin's touch, Arthur's face wrinkled with pain and he moaned a little, then turned his head away.

"What is it, what did I do this time?" Merlin asked softly, then looked down and realized he was trying to maneuver Arthur by pulling on his bad shoulder.

And that proved to be the final straw. "Oh no, Arthur I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to but I had to do it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…."

Merlin pulled Arthur's upper body across his knees and tried to ignore the tears that were falling onto the Prince's shirt. Then, remembering the blows that had landed on Arthur's ribs, Merlin did his best to control himself and lifted Arthur's shirt.

"Oh, no..." Merlin was crying again. He couldn't help himself. Arthur's chest was mottled all black, blue, and a few interesting shades of purple, and there were a few disconcertingly swollen spots where something was obviously broken. All thanks to Merlin's bright idea.

"I didn't tell them anythin'" Arthur said breathlessly. "I-"

Merlin's heart twisted. Even when Arthur literally couldn't speak, when he couldn't think, when he had no idea what he was even being tortured for, he was still determined to stand up to it.

And more than that, he wanted Merlin to know he had.

"Of course you didn't," Merlin said softly. "I knew you wouldn't."

This seemed to relax Arthur, very slightly. He closed his eyes and lowered his head onto Merlin's leg. Merlin ghosted his hand very softly across Arthur's chest, feeling at least three tender, swollen spots that almost surely meant broken ribs. Arthur didn't wince as Merlin did it, but Merlin thought this was likely a bad sign rather than a goon one. It seemed that he might just be too out of it.

The cell door opened again, and every muscle in Merlin's body tensed as he automatically tried to shift Arthur's body away from the door. But it wasn't a guard, come to steal one of them away for more torturing. In fact, by the time Merlin actually got a good look at the door it was closed again, and a small plate of stale-looking bread and a pitcher of what he desperately hoped was water was sitting in front of it.

Thank god. They weren't going to let them starve to death.

"Hey," Merlin said. "I...they brought us some water. Does that sound good?"

Merlin winced. He knew his voice sounded like he was talking to a small child, or worse, an animal. But Arthur didn't seem to notice or care. His eyelids flicked slightly when he heard Merlin, but he didn't react aside from that. Clearly, the torture had taken a lot out of him. Merlin felt his throat tighten again, and he swallowed hard. It wouldn't help anyone if he started crying.

He gave a quick rub to Arthur's good shoulder, and then carefully slid him off his lap. He went to the door and peered nervously into the pitcher, but to his great relief, it was water. He took a small sip himself, telling himself it was only to make sure it wasn't poisoned or anything, and then brought the pitcher back to Arthur.

"Do you want a drink?" Merlin asked, wishing his voice sounded less strained.

Arthur's face wrinkled. He clearly did not want a drink.

Merlin eased Arthur carefully back onto his lap, not thinking he had the strength necessary to sit up even part of the way on his own. Arthur winced, groaning a little as Merlin shifted his body closer. Arthur tried to move a little, presumably to get into a more comfortable position, but he gave up almost as soon as he began, crying out softly as his broken ribs protested. Merlin closed his eyes and dropped his hand to Arthur's good shoulder, giving it a silent squeeze and wishing that there was more he could do.