A/N: Hai! And welcome to Chapter III. Thanks SO MUCH to my reviewers: Pendragon.P a s s i o n., Mel1991, MerlinStar, Nightwatcher'sunknowngirl and scifigirl. You guys are great, this chapter is for you!
Warnings remain the same: T for violence. In other words, more Arthur whumpage. Yay!
Light was creeping along the ground around the buildings of Camelot by the time Merlin was finally on his way into the forest to find the root that Gaius needed. The deep hues of the woods were splashed with an early-morning glow, aiding in Merlin's positive mood and attempting to strike away his worries for Arthur.
He had taken a short nap, at Gaius' insistence, before gathering the things that he would need for his journey. Mostly, Merlin had to make sure that he had enough food and water to last him a couple of days - although the dragon had told him generally where he could find the root that Gaius needed, it was more than half a day's walk and could take a bit of time to find.
The root, apparently, was a popular ingredient in troll potions and other magic. It was the only thing that the dragon knew could break the enchantment on Uther – the only thing that could save Camelot.
Merlin suddenly fought to right himself after tripping over a dip in the earth, but barely noticed. He only hoped that he could find the ingredient and get it back to Gaius before the king could do anything else that he would soon regret, or even worse, before Uther was killed by Katrina for the throne.
The image of a battered Prince Arthur assaulted Merlin's mind with a start. He felt a sharp sting of pity for his friend. It was already enough that the young man fought daily for his father's approval through his actions as a proactive and noble prince, but to now be the target of Katrina's plan to take over Camelot? It was hardly fair.
Never before had the warlock seen his friend so sullen, so quiet. He was very, very worried about him. The craving to quell Camelot's - and Arthur's - troubles increased, and Merlin picked up the pace he was forging over the damp brown earth. He was not going to let the kingdom down.
The sun was towering over the town of Camelot, its heat and light a stark contrast to the cool confusion and uncertainty that was happening within the palace walls. Arthur sat on his windowsill, staring blankly down at the bustling village below. It was a strange sight, to see so many people busy about their day, while Arthur felt like he might never move again.
He hadn't left his chambers since the moment he woke up. For the longest time he lay in bed, staring at the stone ceiling, questioning what was real, wondering if it all had been just a dream. The ache in his ribs at any slight movement, however, proved his hopes wrong.
No one came to wake him; no one came to get him for lunch. With Merlin gone, he hadn't even been brought something to eat. Not that it mattered. Arthur doubted he could stomach any sort of food at the moment anyway.
He wondered half-heartedly what his father was up to. Perhaps he was dismissing all of the knights and bringing in trolls to defend his great kingdom? At this point, nothing could take the prince by surprise.
Except, perhaps, how easy it was for him to just sit around and to not do anything about it. An apathetic mood had filled his insides like never before, a dark and greedy sap that had either come about through his own doing or something more subconscious. He wasn't sure.
He didn't care.
In the distance, he could see Gwen emerge from her humble home to undoubtedly join Morgana for the day. Part of him ached for her to visit him. Part of him hoped that she didn't.
A cry down below suddenly stole his thoughts away from the servant girl, and he scanned the surrounding roads and buildings with confusion. Finally, his eyes fell upon the disturbance - a scuffle at the other end of the courtyard.
The sight took him by surprise, and a wave of fury shot through him. There, amongst a small crowd of Camelot's peasants, were two of his knights. One of them, a man he recognized as Jacoby, had his hand on the arm of a young child, prying the little girl away from her parents' desperate grasps. The second man, whom he couldn't recognize at the distance, was holding back the father.
The knights were no doubt doing the best within their demands to fulfill the king's tax expectations once more.
Without thinking, Arthur pushed himself away from the window, dashing out of his chambers. Forgetting about his wounds, he nearly fell as he rounded the corner in the hallway a little too fast. Within no time he was bursting out of the front gate and running towards the scene.
He skidded to a halt in front of the two knights. "What do you think you are doing?" He demanded in an authoritative voice.
The two knights looked up at their prince with such surprise and shock that they both dropped their arms at their sides. Angered at their gawking, Arthur took another step forward. Suddenly, he realized how he must have looked - not only had he not dressed for the day, but no one had previously seen the damage that was inflicted upon him by his father.
What a great and noble prince he was now.
Trying to dissolve the humiliation from his face, he lifted his chin a bit higher. "I demand you to tell me what you are doing."
Conflicted and apologetic, Jacoby was the one to speak. "I'm sorry, my lord, but your father -- the king -- he demands that we get the taxes from the people, by any means possible."
Arthur could see the sincere regret in the faces of his men, but part of him was still disappointed and downright disgusted at their behavior.
It's not them, he reminded himself before he did or said anything too rash, it's your father.
This couldn't be happening. If any of the knights were brave enough to stand up to Uther in this state, they would surely be beheaded. Yet due to their actions, it would not take long for the people to despise their king and to loathe the royal guard.
Ruling a peaceful kingdom was a strenuous line of barbed wire as it was. Uther had pushed his limits over the wrong end, and it was going to take more than just an enchantment-ridding potion to cure Camelot's weakened unification.
"Stop what you are doing, immediately!" He shouted at Jacoby and the second knight, Shelley.
"But sire, your father!" Shelley protested. "He would have our heads…"
"You know that this isn't right!" Arthur insisted. "This has to stop!"
"Please, Prince Arthur," Jacoby's voice was quieter but still insistent. "Please don't make us get into trouble."
Arthur opened his mouth to speak again, but he was cut off by a bellowing voice behind him.
"Arthur!"
Uther's unhindered ruthless tone caused Arthur to unintentionally wince in fear. Damn it, Arthur, he hissed inwardly, be a man.
Recovering from his hopefully unobserved recoil, the prince held his head high and turned to face his king, who was striding towards him.
If the sound of his father's voice hadn't set a tremble back into Arthur's limbs, then surely the wrathful flash of the king's eyes would have. All of the peasants, the two knights, and even the guards that had accommodated Uther kept several paces back from the king and his son.
"What. Are. You. Doing." The words dripped from Uther's mouth with such a deliberate edge, it was a wonder that Arthur didn't start to bleed from some part of his body right on the spot.
With only a slight moment's hesitation to gather his wits, Arthur resolved to remain strong. "This has to stop, father. Enchantment or no enchantment, what you are doing is wrong."
"I am the ruler here! It is I who decides what is right and what is wrong!" The king's voice echoed throughout the buildings of Camelot, all of which had seemed to have become deadly silent.
"He was stealing their little girl!" Arthur panted in exasperation, gesturing towards the peasant family in question. He had never felt so desperate in his life. "There is nothing good or just about this!"
"Guards!" Uther snapped, his eyes never leaving the prince before him. "Apprehend him!"
There was a moment of silence as the knights visibly hesitated—the thought of arresting the king's son was one of downright horror.
"What are you waiting for?" Uther's gaze broke from his son only long enough to shoot daggers at the closest knight. It was all the guard needed to snap into action; within mere seconds they were at Arthur's side, restraining him.
Arthur let out a cry of pain as his arms were twisted behind his back, shoving his chest forward uncomfortably and driving shards of agony through his ribs. He fell forward onto his knees with the force, gritting his teeth.
Uther's eyes scanned the crowd and settled on whatever it was that he was looking for. He strode towards the stable-keeper and grabbed the object out of the frightened man's hands with a growled, "Give me that!"
The king took a few steps back towards the center of the courtyard. "Bring him here," he commanded, and as the two knights that gripped arms drug him closer to his father, Arthur's eyes went wide when he saw what Uther was holding.
"You... you can't be serious..." The unhidden fear that shot through the young prince caused his voice to shake.
Uther looked down at his son with a look that could only be described as malicious. He gave the whip a snap, years of riding and training as fresh in his mind and limbs as if it were yesterday. "I told you earlier that those who refused to obey me would be arrested and publicly flogged." He looked back up, scanning the crowd with dark eyes. "Let the people see, that even my son is not above the punishment for disobeying my demands!
"Turn him around."
"No!" Arthur cried out suddenly, his heels digging into the ground to prevent his body from being maneuvered. With newfound energy, he thrashed around, making it difficult for the knights to even keep a hold on him, let alone follow out the king's orders.
The prince fell from their gloved grips, and immediately they were on top of him, jamming their knees into his back and forcing his face into the dirt. He struggled against their rough hands, aghast at how weak he felt, gasping in pain. Finally he ran out of steam, collapsing under their weight, panting into the ground like a wild animal.
After a moment, as if to test his resolve, the two knights finally hauled Arthur back to his knees. The prince looked up at his father, his eyes bleary with a hurt that he never before felt in his life. He searched his father's cold orbs, but all that seemed to do was seep hopelessness throughout Arthur's entire being.
"Please don't do this," He begged, all dignity and heroics lost.
It was all a nightmare. It had to be.
Uther nodded at the guards. "Turn him around."
The silence of the town was shattered by the sound of the whip. The crowd looked on in horror, gasping with every strike. Arthur only cried out once, the first time, the pain and shock of the lashing swallowing him whole. But afterwards, his body shut down as if a curtain had fallen over his senses. His eyes dulled before they squeezed shut, and for the rest of the beating, he was no longer in the horrible nightmare that insisted on playing out. He was somewhere else, very far away—somewhere without responsibilities and betrayal and fathers.