While he stormed through the castle's corridor behind his father, Merlin in tow, Arthur was in a terrible mood. He didn't like to be reprimanded for his inefficiency. He didn't like to be told that he'd be shown "how to get result". He didn't like to be treated like an incompetent little boy.
The guard on duty in the dungeons didn't even have the time to stand when they walked past him and headed directly for the witch's cell. Arthur settled just outside the cell, his arms crossed over his chest, while the guard fumbled with his keys under the King's impatient gaze.
As for the witch, she had retreated to the back of the cell, looking alternately at all three of them with fear as though they had come to take her to the stake immediately. When Uther entered the cell alone and walked up to her fiercely, she seemed terrified.
"I want the names of all the sorcerers that attended your little gathering the other day," the King demanded without preamble.
"Their names?" the witch asked shyly.
"Now," Uther insisted.
"I... I can't, I don't... I don't know them," she mumbled apologetically.
"Of course you do, do you think me a fool?"
"No Sire, absolutely not," the witch hastened to answer. "But I really don't know their names," she repeated as she shifted uneasily. It was obvious that Uther's very presence was making her uncomfortable.
Seeing her obstinacy despite the circumstances, Arthur briefly wondered if she could really not know the sorcerers names, but dismissed the thought. Why wouldn't she? How could they meet if they didn't know one another?
When Uther spoke up again, his tone was extremely soft and quiet, but Arthur could tell from his tight jaw that his father was upset.
"I will grant you until tonight to change your mind," Uther told the witch. "But if at dusk I don't have a list ready with every single one of their names on it, then I would advise you to enjoy the comfort of this cell for the night. Because at dawn, you'll be introduced to the torture room." He bent closer to her ear. "By midday you'll be pleading for the stake..." he whispered and moved back.
Arthur heard Merlin behind him being a little agitated. He knew the manservant certainly disapproved the use of torture to make a prisoner speak. He had to admit he wasn't fond of it himself either, but the king's methods couldn't be argued. Especially when said king was trying to prove a point.
When Uther walked out, Arthur followed. As they left, he heard the witch call with a hint of despair in her voice: "Sire, I don't know them! I swear I don't! Sire!"
Uther waited until they were out of the dungeons to speak. "Women generally have little willpower," he told Arthur. "She broke once when she used magic in front of us to save her friend. She'll break again. We'll have all the sorcerers names by the end of the day. And when we do, I want you to find and take care of them. And this time, I will not allow failure. Is that clear enough, Arthur?"
"Yes Sire," Arthur replied. "Very clear."
Arthur saw Morgana walk down the corridor. She met up with them just as Uther left. "I came as soon as I heard you were back," she said, "what are the news?"
"I guess you'll be glad to hear that we came back empty-handed from our trip," Arthur answered.
"They're going to torture the witch for information unless she hands over all the other sorcerers," Merlin added.
Arthur cursed inwardly. Couldn't he have held his tongue for a few more minutes? Now Morgana was going to -
"Torture her? Arthur, you can't be serious!"
And there it went again...
"Listen, I talked to her and -"
"You talked to her?" Arthur exclaimed with surprise.
"Yes, I did! Trust me, she's no threat, and I believe the others aren't either."
"You talked to her!" Arthur repeated, furious. "Why? Why do you care so much? The druid child, I can understand. I get why you went out of your way for him. But her? She's responsible for her own actions. She knows the law. She broke it and should deal with the consequences. Anyone who does should."
"She used magic to save a life. Wouldn't you do the same for a friend if you could? For me? For Merlin? For Gwen? Or for your father?" Morgana provoked.
"What are you suggesting, Morgana? That her usage of magic was praiseworthy and that we should all be entitled to use it?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm -"
"Wow, Morgana!" Merlin interrupted. "You're upset, I'm sure your words outstrip your thoughts, right?"
Arthur observed the exchanged looks between the two of them.
"Yes, maybe," Morgana admitted reluctantly.
Arthur kept looking alternately at them. They were hiding something from him, just like the other day in the stables when they'd stopped talking when he arrived. He had the unpleasant feeling that they were both teaming up against him.
"Are you two into magic?" he suddenly accused. "Seriously, I'm starting to wonder. Well, of course I'd have noticed if you practised magic, but you're putting so much passion in this that if my father heard you, he'd lock you up in the dungeons with that witch."
They both remained silent for a few seconds. They knew he was right.
Then, much to Arthur's dismay, Morgana picked up the argument again. "What about torture, Arthur? Do you think it's any more praiseworthy than magic? Is it a practice you intend to maintain once you're king?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh I'm so sick of this! Why won't you all stop with the whole 'when you're king' speech? Thing is, right now, I'm not! So stop fantasizing about what I will or will not do when I am! If ever!"
He wasn't particularly looking forward to being king. It came with way too many responsibilities and duties to be counterbalanced by the very few liberties it also brought. Though one of those may actually be quite worth it, he admitted with a fleeting thought for Gwen. Merlin had been right; the witch hunt hadn't taken his mind off her...
"Guinevere isn't with you?" Arthur suddenly noticed.
"No," Morgana replied with a frown, obviously surprised by this abrupt change of subject, "she didn't feel well this morning, so I sent her back home."
"Oh," Arthur simply replied, trying not to show his concern.
Morgana might fail to see why he was talking about Gwen all of a sudden, but judging from Merlin's stupid grin, he, on the other hand, understood what had been his train of thought.
"Arthur, aren't you forgetting about your errand at the leatherworker's?" Merlin asked out of the blue. "You kept telling me you wanted to go there yourself to retrieve, what was it again? A new swordbelt?"
It took Arthur a second to understand what Merlin was getting at: the leatherworker lived right next to Gwen. His manservant was covertly suggesting him to go visit Gwen, probably knowing that he was indeed dying to. But he wasn't sure it was a good idea though. With those two uniting against him and his father blaming him and putting him under pressure, he didn't want to add to that the disappointment of being sent away by Gwen. He felt lonely enough as it was.
"Come on, go!" Merlin urged.
Arthur knew that this wasn't a proper way for a servant to address his master and that he should really remind Merlin some day. But he decided to ignore it once more and just turned heels to walk away, leaving the two of them alone together.
"What do you think we should do about that woman in the dungeons?" Morgana asked once he was gone.
Merlin shook his head. "I don't know. But whatever it is, we need to be extremely careful."
Arthur knocked on Gwen's door. "Guinevere?" he called. No answer. "Guinevere, it's Arthur."
"I, huh... I'm not feeling well, I'd rather not see anyone," came the hesitant answer through the door.
"Are you all right?" Arthur insisted.
"Yes, just... Please leave," Gwen bid him.
Deeply disappointed, Arthur took a step away from the door. He knew he shouldn't have come, he scolded himself.
"No, wait!" she suddenly changed her mind. "Actually... could you please ask Gaius to come by?"
"Gaius? Are you that sick?"
"Just ask him to come."
"Guinevere, come on, let me in," Arthur urged. "I just..." Want to see you, he finished mentally.
His gaze fell on the doorknob. He turned it slowly, tentatively, and the door gave in: it wasn't locked.
"Don't freak out, I'm coming in," he warned as he slowly pushed the door forward.
"No! I..."
As Arthur stepped in, he just had the time to see Gwen turn her back to him and head to the farthest end of her house.
"Guinevere?" Arthur asked hesitantly.
"I asked you to go away!" Gwen exclaimed. "You can't ever take anyone's advice, can you?
Arthur was taken aback by her unusual harshness. "Are you still angry at me for going after this warlock? For your information, it was useless, we didn't find anything."
Gwen remained stubbornly silent and still, with her back to him.
"Guinevere, turn around and talk to me," he demanded, walking closer to her.
"No."
"Why not?" Arthur asked with exasperation.
"Because..." she sighed. "Because I don't want you to see me like this..." she finally said in a whisper.
Arthur was thrown off guard by the despair in her voice, and he was now positively concerned. "Guinevere, tell me what's going on," he exhorted, his tone almost pleading.
"I have no idea what happened... At first it was nothing, I only felt ill..." she answered quietly. "But an hour ago, I don't know, it... It got worse... That's when it began to..."
Her words died on her lips. Arthur put a hand on her shoulder and softly turned her around. When Gwen was finally facing him, he hardly repressed a gasp of surprise.
Part of her right hand and wrist, as well as the left side of her neck seemed... wooden. Quite literally. Their appearance was that of bark. Spontaneously, Arthur moved his hand from Gwen's shoulder to her afflicted neck and checked the surface with the tip of his fingers. The skin was as hard and harsh as a tree trunk.
"It's spreading," Gwen confided with fear in her eyes. "Fast."