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Arthur was sitting on the floor, slumped against a cold, damp wall. Thick leather restraints encircled his wrists, digging into the same sores that the chains had left. A cord attached his hands to the wall just above his head, leaving him with no movement. Not that they seemed to accept that, tying his bare feet together as well, the knots cruelly tight.

He rested his head back on the wall, trying to give it some sort of leeway to arch his back away. That was the only way he could tell it was a few days later, the amount his back had healed. No one else had entered the room since the flogging until they were dragging him from it. At first, the room had felt unbearably cold, but after a while, Arthur was more than glad they had left him shirtless. The wounds across his back stung like crazy, every movement opening one up slightly and causing a hot trickle of blood to escape down his back.

It didn't help that he was shivering violently, harsh coughs being forced from his chest at almost regular intervals. He had hated the fact that it meant he had made a noise, something that he had sworn he would not do after they had torn the first – and last – scream from him. But he had no choice in the matter, the harsh, almost rattling noise being torn from him as his body curled in on itself, trying to preserve what little warmth he had left. Once again, he was aware that the only thing keeping him alive was the burn on his shoulder. Every time consciousness was escaping him, it pulsed. Arthur could feel the magic being forced through his veins, healing him just enough that it kept him going for them to have another go. The prince had felt magic before, but nothing had felt this evil. There was no other word for it, he felt like he was suffocating every time he felt it move around his body. He would have done anything to be able to stop it, to be able to give into the darkness just once, a chance to escape the torment.

But they would allow him no such luxury. For eight months, Arthur had been conscious for every second of it. They wouldn't even allow him the luxury of sleep. He partly wondered why they even bothered to restrain him anymore, it's not like he would have the strength to go anywhere had they opened all the doors and giving him a free ticket out. It seemed to be something about the money they were receiving, people were led to believe the prince was still struggling against his captors, making their own delivery of punishment even more satisfactory to their sadistic pleasures.

Arthur had just managed to find a position that gave him a small amount of relief when the small door inset in the far wall of his cell burst open. Momentarily, Arthur had to turn away, the bright candle flickering in the man's hands burning into the back of his eyes and making him see dark spots as they littered his vision. He didn't have long to dwell on it, before heavy footfalls sounded across the room and a strong hand grasped his chin, turning his head towards the newcomer.

"He's looking a bit sickly." A voice commented lightly as the hand let go. Immediately, Arthur turned his head away again, drawing his knees closer into his chest the best he could with bound feet.

"He'll live. We've seen to that. You mentioned gold?"

"Don't worry, you'll get your payment, providing of course, you follow my instructions. I have to know the exact results." Arthur tensed, wondering what they had planned for him this time. They had made sure he wouldn't succumb to his injuries, there had to be a reason why. He just refused to believe the whole thing was about gold. Were people really capable of such sadism? As the rough hand probed one of the wounds on his back, Arthur stiffened even further, making sure no sound escaped him. He had just answered his own question.

"Why don't you stay with us for a few days? That way you can begin the trial yourself, and we can see the exact results?" Arthur knew the voice of the man who was speaking, it was often the one who introduced newcomers to their "prize". He certainly was a smooth talker, and the prince could hear the other man agree. He still refused to look at them.

He thought they would leave now that an agreement had been made. But instead, he felt the cold steel of a blade being placed on the arm being suspended closest to the man. Arthur didn't even flinch as the metal bit into the flesh, causing a crimson trickle to run down his arm. He still refused to look even as the man grasped his arm in a tight grip just below the wound, bending his arm around as much as possible. Arthur had no idea what he was doing until he felt a cold substance being poured over the wound.

It took every ounce of self control for him not to cry out, not to scream in sheer agony as he felt something coursing through his body. He was breathing heavily, his eyes rolling as sweat immediately broke out across his forehead, his chest heaving.

"Interesting. The anti-dote has to be administered within twelve hours after the poison, or he will die, no matter what magic you have used on him."

"Very well. It will be done."

As the men finally left, Arthur leant his head shakily back on the wall, hot tears slipping down his cheeks at the sheer pain of it all. He would do anything for it to stop. But somewhere along the way, it was as if his voice had given up. Despite constantly refusing to say anything and feeling like he had to fight against that sensation every time they tried mocking him, his voice no longer seemed to be working. It had taken his oath to himself and made it a reality. Even if he wanted to beg them to kill him, to make it stop, Arthur no longer physically could.

In a way, it was a blessing, stopped them from hearing precisely what they had wanted him to say for the last eight months. But at the same time, Arthur couldn't take any more.

Limbs trembling from being held in such an unnatural position for so long, Arthur kept his body twisted to make sure his back didn't touch the wall as he leant into it even more, determined to keep himself vaguely upright.

"Arthur!" Merlin sat bolt upright with a cry, sweat pouring from him as he calmed his erratically beating heart. After a few moments, he finally managed to gain some sort of control over himself and stood up. The fire had died down during the night, and with a short command, Merlin soon had it roaring into life again. Crouching down, he let his hands hover over it, draining in the warmth the flickering flames offered.

The dreams were getting worse. Not only physically, but the Arthur he was seeing had all but given up, accepted his fate. If that was true, Merlin didn't know what he was going to do when he found his prince. How could someone be fixed when they had gone through so much, for so long? As much as he knew Gaius was good, Merlin had a sinking feeling it was not going to be enough.

The warlock got no more sleep that night. He had been riding hard for three days, most of the nights as well. He only stopped long enough to make sure the horse received adequate rest before pushing on. He had just drawn level to where he had reached last time, and knew that with the dawn came a fresh search. There had to be something, anything, that would give him some clue as to the prince's whereabouts. He had tried summoning Kilgarrah at least four times, especially in the first couple of days. But even the Great Dragon had been unable to locate Arthur for him. It was as if the prince was being shielded from them, and Merlin knew the only way that could have been done was by magic. Thinking back on the dream, he shuddered, drawing in his knees to his chest. If this search showed nothing, he would call on the dragon again. If nothing else, he needed to widen his search, and the horses couldn't get him there quick enough. But when a desperate Merlin had called him last time, Kilgarrah had made it quite clear that he would call the warlock if he found anything, but that Merlin was just wasting his time and energy summoning the dragon the way he had been.

As soon as dawn had broken, Merlin had saddled up, preparing to spend the day riding. He was using magical far more openly now than he had ever done before, knowing that he was far beyond the reach of Camelot's borders. Besides, it wasn't as if there was anyone around to see him, for the woods he was travelling through was dark and gloomy, his senses on full alert as he let the horse pick her way through the twisting undergrowth. He had no natural instinct when it came to terrain like this, and trusted the horse far more than he trusted his own judgement.

He travelled for two more days, barely stopping. Each time he made a brief camp, he refused to sleep. He couldn't face dreaming about what could possibly be happening to Arthur. In some ways, he felt bad about it. It was his way of keeping an eye on the prince despite the fact there was nothing he could do to help, and yet he couldn't even take that. How on earth was Arthur managing to hold on? Merlin had resigned himself to the fact that the dreams were reality. He needed something to ground him, to make him carry on searching, and the injuries he saw on the figure in his dreams seemed consistent each night. In Merlin's mind, he had put enough trust in their destiny to believe the images were real.

But that just made it all the more painful to witness them. As he sat crouched in front of the fire, eyes gazing into the hypnotising flames whilst his magic kept watch, Merlin sighed heavily. He was thinking about Arthur so hard it was as if the prince's face was staring back at him out of the fire.

"Reperio meus fatum," he muttered quietly, feeling drained as a rush of magic shot out of him into the surrounding area. It was a spell he had used many times over the last few months, a tracking beam of some sort, searching for Arthur. But although he could send it further away than when he had first let the magic fly, he could only sustain it for a short amount of time, something not helped by his exhaustion. Whilst it could search the area in the immediate vicinity, it couldn't travel much further out in order to be any real use. Merlin had got into the habit of releasing the spell every evening, just in case, whenever he was travelling out from Camelot. The last thing he wanted was for the prince to be close by him, and for him to have never have noticed.

Each time he had sent it out, nothing but negativity had been fed back along the link binding him with his magic. So when he received the slightest flicker of certainty, a type of confidence he had only ever associated with Arthur echoing back into his soul, Merlin leapt to his feet, his heart beating fast. Could it be possible?

After all of these months, despite what he had told everyone else, Merlin himself had been beginning to doubt whether he would ever find Arthur again. The main reason why he had set out day after day was that he couldn't face Camelot without him. Despite their initial loathing of each other, Arthur was the best friend Merlin had never had. Not even Will had been able to touch on the bond he had with the prince, and that was without Arthur knowing what his servant was capable of. When the time was right, Merlin was strangely certain that the future king would accept him.

None of that mattered now though. All that was occupying Merlin's mind was that the magic had found something. Considering how exhausted the warlock was, Merlin knew it wasn't past his luck for it to have found some sort of wild beast that wanted to eat him rather than the prince. But even so, all it took was a flash of his eyes and the camp was packed up, the fire doused.

His mare tossed her head in slight distress at both the use of the magic and the fact they were setting off so soon. Giving her ears a fondle to try and apologise as he swung himself into the saddle, Merlin found his heart was beating fast with anticipation. For the first time in eight months, he had reason to believe that he was nearing the prince, rather than just watching him suffer through dreams.

Giving the horse a gentle nudge, Merlin moved off slowly. He had no desire to rush things now, not when he had the magic to follow. They hadn't been riding for long when they came to a thicket. The magic was leading him through it, but Merlin knew there was no way his mare would be able to get through. Not to mention he didn't want to announce himself in quite that manner. Instead, he slipped down and tethered her loosely to the outskirts. There was plenty of fresh grass nearby, and with a flash of his eyes and a whisper, the ropes extended themselves to make sure she could reach the stream he could hear running nearby. He had no intention of being very long.

Setting out on foot, it took Merlin no time at all until he was well and truly tangled up in the bush. Eventually, he resorted to using magic once again, knowing that if he didn't hurry, his original spell would fade. He hadn't the strength to cast it again without resting, and didn't particularly want to be stuck in the middle of the undergrowth with no direction. He finally managed to tear himself free, and instantly felt the magic spring to his fingers, dancing across electrically as a building loomed into view.

His spell dissipated at that very moment, but Merlin didn't need it to tell him this was the place he had spent eight months looking for. Something in his gut was pulling him towards it, and without wasting another moment, Merlin set off at a run. Only moments later, he skidded to a halt, seeing two men standing outside. One of them was practically juggling magical orbs, the second taking a long swig of something.

They saw – or at least, the sorcerer sensed – him coming, and Merlin immediately froze.

"Have no fear, lad, your magic is safe here." The man almost had a friendly voice, and deciding that might work to his advantage even if inside he was fuming, Merlin approached. He plastered an easy grin on his face, but his eyes were burning dangerously, a hint of gold playing around the edges as he struggled to hold his magic back. He had no idea how strong they were, nor how many sorcerers were around. He couldn't risk it, not if he had indeed got this close to finding Arthur.

"Can we help you, son?" The second man sounded just as pleasant as the first, and without thinking about it, Merlin spoke.

"I'm looking for a prince." He certainly wasn't expecting smiles to light up both of their faces.

"Little young, aren't you? Although I guess if you have magic, that's a good enough reason. Well, you found one. I hope you've got gold though, they don't let anyone have a go if they don't pay." As Merlin's eyes glowed slightly, the man smirked. "No amount of magic will help you, kid, they've got masses of sorcerers working for them. Pay, and they will let you have a go. No questions asked."

"Have you yet?" The second man asked his companion. Judging by the way they still seemed to be a little on edge with each other, Merlin knew they didn't know each other, possibly having only just met. It took all of his self restraint not to fry them on the spot. His dreams suddenly made more sense, and Merlin could feel the bile rising in his throat. How could they treat Arthur like that?

"Had a go? Yeah, couple of times. If it is your first time though, I suggest the whip. You'll have to get in quick, it's a favourite and they won't let it be used too many times, in case he gets used to it. But he's very...responsive to it."

Merlin's hand was alternating between relaxing and clenching even as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. This was proof enough his dreams had been real, for it was only earlier on in the week he had seen Arthur being flogged.

"What about you?" Merlin was struggling to keep control of his breathing at the casual way the second man put across his query.

"I have my own methods." The first responded with an evil smirk, his hand drifting to his crotch and causing the second man to grin.

That was when Merlin promptly threw up.

"Easy, kid. You'll have your revenge soon enough. Stick with me, I'll see you in. In fact, considering the bastards have hurt one so young, I'll pay for your first go. Let all that anger out."

The second man wasn't finished though. "What was it like?"

Merlin found himself crouched on the floor, heaving. But there was nothing left in his stomach. How could they?

"Well, if they didn't have plans to sell him to Acrotus at the end of this week, I'd buy him myself. Could use a silent whore, business trips and all that, you know?"

"Sell?" Merlin gasped. He knew if he gave himself away now, he would never get inside.

"Oh yeah. Acrotus has been trying out something on the prince, and is sure that he can get the information these idiots have failed to get out of him for however many months. Guess they don't care considering the money they've been making. Amazing how many people have a grudge against the Pendragons."

That confirmed it once and for all. Merlin had found Arthur.