Arthur had stayed in the same position until the last of the shudders had left him and he was left cold, tired, and in burning pain. And then he sat up as well as he could and started looking around his prison for some sort of escape route. His intellect told him that there was no way out, but he gritted his teeth and kept looking, exhausting his imagination.

The dungeon was empty. He thought maybe if he looked around the floor hard enough, he would find something that could be used to pick a lock—get a jailor's attention—hit someone over the head—stab someone… He knew so many ways to get out of places like this. But the chains ruined all those plans. They would not be torn from the wall, even if his broken arm would allow him to exert that much pressure.

He looked at them, since it was apparent they were the only choice he had. What could be done with chains? If he got desperate, he might be able to contort himself into a position where the chains were wrapped around his neck, with gravity providing the pressure—he might manage to kill himself. He wasn't quite that desperate yet, but perhaps if he could get a captor close enough to him while unarmed, he could kill the other person.

If they had a key, that could actually be useful. But what were the chances? And he wasn't sure he could bring himself to choke or break the neck of even someone who just looked like Gwen or Merlin.

Arthur's vague plotting was cut short when he heard sounds outside, filtering through the bars of the door he couldn't see. Someone was outside. From the sound, many someones. Were they coming back already? He broke out in a cold sweat, and the salt water made the pain from his burns worse.

And why did it sound like a struggle?

He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that different was bad.

Merlin was right, Gwaine reflected. With their brown hoods, the two rescuers managed to run right past some of the men down here, but they all seemed to be gathering near one common hallway. There were about five men there now. And there was only one, barred door in that hallway.

"I think we found it," Gwaine said.

Merlin nodded. "Keep your sword ready; I'll find out."

He walked right through most of the men and tapped one of them on the shoulder. This man, a red-headed fellow who was close to the barred door, turned around and looked at Merlin suspiciously and expectantly.

"Is this where the king of Camelot is being kept?" he asked.

The man looked stunned, and then his eyebrows went down in confusion as he stared at the warlock, seeming to realize that he did not recognize Merlin.

"I think that's a yes," said Merlin, turning away.

Recovering, the man threw up one hand to cast a spell at Merlin, but Merlin saw it coming and spun back around, his own hand up and ready. Merlin's eyes flashed yellow.

The man left the ground, pushed backwards. He flew through the air without making a sound, his mouth gaping, and crashed into the wall behind him, his head connecting with a crack. He sank to the ground, unaware. Merlin couldn't tell right away if he was dead or alive.

He turned back to Gwaine, who now had his sword ready and wasn't even trying to hide it. Merlin put down his hood and Gwaine followed his movement, preparing themselves in the time it took for the remaining men to stare at their comrade's fallen body. More men should be on their way, too, Merlin figured, and cracked his knuckles.

And then all hell broke loose.

Gwaine and Merlin launched themselves at the enemy and the enemy threw themselves at the rescuers. Gwaine had a sword, and one or two of them had knives coupled with magic. Merlin held them off of Gwaine with their spells and threw some of his own. There was near silence except for several whispered spells and grunts, and Gwaine thought it was the quietest he'd ever heard while fighting for his life.

Finally Merlin had to draw back, his mouth bleeding from an unexpected punch, and motioned for Gwaine to do the same, but the knight didn't see him. So Merlin latched onto the knight and yanked him behind. Then Merlin eyed the remaining two men and his eyes flashed gold. "Marw," he said.

Both men fell to the ground.

Gwaine stared, gasping for breath. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"I just thought of it. I wasn't even sure it would work." Merlin's knees buckled, but he kept himself from hitting the ground by using the wall. It wouldn't matter if he triggered an alarm now. "But," he said slowly, "I don't think I should do it again unless I have to."

"You alright, mate?"

"Fine," said Merlin, waving away Gwaine's offered hand. "Arthur's the one who needs worrying about." He staggered over to the bars and pressed his cheek against them. His head couldn't fit it, but if he strained his eyes, he could see a figure leaning against the same wall that the door was on… Yes, he could see it now. "It's Arthur," he told Gwaine. "I'm sure of it. But he's not moving."

"Maybe he's sleeping?"

Merlin gripped the lock of the door in his palm and closed his eyes, breathing out in a magically-thick voice, "Datgloi."

Gwaine waited. "Nothing," he said, eyeing the lock. "Well, that's anticlimactic."

"Hold on," Merlin snarled. "We have to get in… Toddi! Egwyl! Diflannu!" Merlin couldn't take it anymore, and he jerked his hand away from the lock, looking at his palm. It was bright red from the heat his spells had caused on the lock, but the lock itself was unbroken.

"Is it you or the lock?" Gwaine asked, keeping a look out.

"I think it's the lock. We'll need a key."

"Merlin…" called Gwaine. "Three men approaching."

Three men in Druid's robes were stalking towards them down the hallway, faces hard and angry. Merlin looked towards them. "Where is the key to this door?" he asked calmly.

"I don't think they want to let us in, Merlin," said Gwaine.

Merlin did not look intimidated, though that was the effect the men were obviously going for. "I think Arthur's injured, Gwaine," he said. "He's not moving. So we need that key."

The men stopped. One of him raised his hand to cast a spell, and Merlin got ready to shield himself, but to his surprise a wall of something seemed to slam into him and crush the warlock to the ground. He gasped, caught off guard by someone else's spell.

Above him, he heard the fight starting.

"Good, Claude—watch out!"

"Agh!" That was Gwaine.

"Fflam!"

Merlin was missing it. He jumped back to his feet, winded, and saw that Gwaine was fighting one of the men, who had gotten some kind of weapon. Meanwhile, Gwaine's brown cloak was on fire and slowly being eaten away at.

Merlin threw himself onto the first man he came to, knocking him to the ground. By the time he got up again, having cut down the man with his magic, Gwaine was fighting the last one, and he'd disposed of the flaming cloak, which now lay burning on the ground. Merlin quickly finished off the last man for Gwaine.

"Check their clothes," he said, going over to the first one's body. "The keys."

Merlin pulled back the dead man's cloak and checked in the folds, then moved on to his belt.

"This one!" called Gwaine, bending over the one that, though they didn't know it, was named Claude. Merlin came over quickly and tore the key ring from the man's belt loop.

Just then they heard footsteps, someone running closer, and Merlin looked up to see a young woman in familiar baggy clothes and her hair in a braid over her shoulder approaching swiftly.

"For heaven's sake," Merlin griped. "Is there no end to these people?"

"Usually once the women start coming at you, it means the supply of men is at its end," Gwaine supplied helpfully.

The woman stopped as she surveyed the bodies – eight in all. Her eyes bugged out of her head, and the tendons and bones in her neck and collar stood out. "Claude? Samuel? Ian?"

She looked up at Merlin and Gwaine with horror. "What did you do?"

Merlin passed the metal keys to Gwaine. "Go in and take care of Arthur as best you can," he said, not breaking eye contact with this new enemy. "I'll be right in."

Gwaine nodded and started for the door, but she cried, "No!" and shot a spell at him, one for fire.

Gwaine fitted the key into the lock as Merlin blocked that spell, but it was the wrong key. She tried again, running forward, but Merlin stepped in the way and shot a deadly spell at her. She moved out of the way, responding with a spell just as fatal to those it touched. It didn't touch either of the men, because Merlin moved out the way and Gwaine was already inside.

Merlin spat another spell at her, and her feet left the ground. She fell to the floor, but as he ran up to finish it, she spoke low words under her breath. Suddenly it wasn't this strange girl lying there, it was Gwen.

Merlin stumbled and faltered, and she took advantage of his alarm to try another spell. "Fflam!" she shrieked.

Gwaine heard the sounds of a battle back in the hall, but he knew Merlin could hold his own in battle. He quickly made his way over to Arthur.

The king had made himself small, and he didn't look at Gwaine, but the knight knew that he was aware that he had company.

Gwaine reached for the chains around his right arm, but Arthur seemed to pull away, and that made Gwaine stop and look closer. The arm was obviously broken; swollen and dirty. The knight winced and tried not to look at the other injuries just yet. If all of Arthur was in that kind of shape, they had problems. He saved that limb for last, reaching for the other limb instead. The keys jingled in his hands, and finally Arthur looked up.

Blue eyes were narrowed in suspicion and fear.

Gwaine released one arm from the chains, then a leg.

"What are you playing at?" Arthur demanded, but his voice was barely more than a whisper. He wouldn't be fooled, not again.

"I'm rescuing you," Gwaine told him, but Arthur wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to believe that.

"How can you do that?" the girl said in surprise, just evading another spell. She stood in the middle of the hallway, breathing hard. He stood about five feet away, his eyes just fading to blue. "You were just his clumsy servant!"

She knew about him? Merlin wondered at that, but shrugged it aside.

Merlin was tired of playing games. He glared at her, his magic building and his eyes changing. "I'm Emrys," he told her. "And you took my king. That's how."

Her eyes went wide again, and she took a step back, nearly tripping over Claude's body. But it was too late. Merlin didn't even bother lifting his hand this time.

She flew through the air – that was his favorite trick – and bashed her head into the ceiling and then the wall before crashing to the ground, limp as a rag doll. She screamed once, but it was cut off and she was silent.

Merlin paused a moment to catch his breath and then ran into the cell to see what had become of Arthur.