When Arthur came to, he wasn't exactly aware. He couldn't tell where he was, and for the life of him, he couldn't have told where his hands and feet were. He only knew he was no longer unconscious because the darkness around him turned to a dark gray, as though there was light somewhere nearby. He knew he was cold. He had the knowledge that he was being moved—pretty much pushed, and none too gently. He thought he might have been getting somewhere partly under his own power, though; was he walking?
He sank lower into himself for a few moments to allow him to regroup. The fuzziness of his mind eventually began to fade, and he realized that he was being manhandled, made to walk. Somewhere. He wasn't sure where, but from the way his feet slapped against the ground and the slight echoing nature of the sounds of his own footsteps, he thought he was inside. Perhaps a castle. And though his memory wasn't working well yet, he knew that he wasn't among friends.
Alright, he could deal with that.
Arthur kept moving, keeping his body limp so no one would realize that he wasn't still in a state of unawareness. It wasn't easy, since the walking was probably what had woken him up in the first place. He resisted the urge to open his eyes and look around.
He waited until he was stopped and he heard something creaking—a door. The sounds made the hackles on his neck rise, and he tried not to shudder.
"Alright," said a voice in front of him. "Throw him in."
Arthur made his move. His eyes flew open, and he had about half a second to get his surroundings; all he saw was gray and at least three men. When the two people on either side of him tried to throw him forward, he threw himself back.
They were so shocked that he was suddenly moving under his own power that he slipped from their hands, but Arthur was so off-balance that he nearly fell to the ground. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes, feeling them grappling at his arms already. Arthur yanked away, landing a blow on one of their faces.
They were the same men, he distantly realized. They'd attacked him in his room. But they didn't look like his knights anymore.
The man he hit fell back but the other struck Arthur in the stomach, knocking his breath away. Arthur hit him twice; once in the face and the other time in the chest. The man didn't fall back, but tried to hit Arthur back. Arthur ducked, only to have someone behind him wrap his arms around Arthur's middle and try to pull him away. Arthur elbowed him.
It didn't do any good, though, all his struggling. Arthur didn't even get the chance to run. One of the man succeeded in pressing him against the stone wall, knocking his head back. Things went a bit blurry, and then someone hit him across the face. Pain seared through him, leaving his face sore. And then someone hit him again, and he gave a small cry and bit his tongue. He tried to pull forward. His arms were pinned to his side. His left hand throbbed; it was broken, how had he forgotten?
He kept struggling, though, desperate to get free. And the blows kept coming. He couldn't get away.
At last he heard a voice say, "Stand aside, this is easier."
The blows stopped, but Arthur felt a sudden sense of fear that let him know something was coming. It was an instinct he'd picked up from years of fighting. Something was coming. Move.
He couldn't move.
Something cold and harder than a fist hit his lower arm, and Arthur heard the crack. His head jerked back in surprise and pain, and he felt a scream tear out of his throat. In that moment, all the energy of battle drained from his system, and he felt blackness drop like a blanket over his eyes again.
\-_-BREAK-_-/
Once they had disposed of Arthur inside of the dungeon, the men gathered outside.
The one who had once been Percival's double spoke up first. "He's strong." He rubbed his jaw.
"What would you expect of the Once and Future King?" replied the man who was not Leon. "Of course he is."
"Of course he's strong," the Once-Percival said. "But what if he is too strong, and he won't tell us…?"
The one who had looked like Gwaine jumped in. "We have time, and we won't accept no. Don't worry, he'll tell us who this Emrys is before we're done. This close to the prophecy being fulfilled, it has to be someone he knows."
Once-Percival still looked doubtful. "I suppose."
Once-Leon patted him on the arm. "You worry too much, Samuel. We've already got the Once and Future King. After we dispose of him, we'll find Emrys as well. She'll be pleased."