I can't thank you enough for the reviews and alerts etc, it really means a lot!
It took all of Merlin's courage to not bolt as the men led him inside, laughing and joking about what they were planning to do with the prize. Merlin's breath was hitching in his throat erratically, and he just wanted to run and find Arthur. It had been eight months since the prince had disappeared, and Merlin had picked up enough of what was going on around him to know that he would never be able to comprehend what horrors he had been through in that time. There were even more people inside, some looking disgustingly excited, some comparing instruments that Merlin didn't even want to consider their use for.
The first man who had spoken kept his hand lightly on Merlin's shoulder as he steered him through the mass of people. They made it over to one side, and he immediately caught one of the men's attention.
"You really can't get enough, can you, Dunran?" The man was smiling, his hand already outstretched. The man – Dunran - immediately dumped a pile of coins into it, grinning as he did so.
"Uther took my life, my family. I'll never tire of taking his son, literally. Sure you haven't reconsidered?"
"Sorry, mate, Atrocus is most insistent. Have to admit, this poison does work well. He burns up for an hour, then goes all limp for the rest of the day. Amazing the stuff you can do. Who's this, Dunran? Bit young, ain't he?"
Dunran handed over another pile of coins, one that Merlin couldn't help but notice was significantly larger.
"Sorcerer, first time. You got that whip still?" The man sighed, seeming to contemplate what he was doing before reaching behind him. It was only then Merlin noticed the assortment of instruments hanging on the wall behind him and he struggled not to vomit again.
"Only the lighter one, someone else has got the other. And before you argue, no, I'm not getting it back off him, he's a regular. Your boy will just have to make do."
"Much obliged." Dunran nodded, handing Merlin the whip. "Here you are, kid. You'll get your revenge. Now, 'fraid I'm gonna have to leave you here, you'll need to join that lot over there for the first time rules. Come find me afterwards though, eh? I wanna know how it goes."
With those words, he strode off, slapping Merlin heartedly on the shoulder as he did so. The young warlock stood rooted to the spot, almost swaying where he stood. Every conversation he listened to had people talking the same way. There was an excitement in their voices that he had heard around Camelot when there was a big joust or something like that. But Merlin was sickened to his very core about what he knew they really meant. Or more specifically, who they meant. How could one human do that to another? Especially as by the sounds of it, none of them cared that is was Arthur. They just saw the prince as a way of getting back at the King.
"Alright, first timers who are after a bit of revenge, come over here!" Merlin felt like he had no choice but to head that way. It was the only way he was going to find out where Arthur was, for he knew Dunran would immediately spot him if he tried to head over that way. He just hated the feeling of helplessness. After eight months, he had found Arthur. But there was still nothing he could do to get his friend out of this hell.
As he sidled over, eyes darting everywhere as he took on some of the abilities people were showing off, he began to plan. He knew it was not going to be easy getting Arthur out of here, especially if the man couldn't exactly run in the way he used to be able to. There were numerous sorcerers roaming the area, and although Merlin knew he could match them, even outstrip them, in power, he wouldn't be able to take them all, not when he had to watch out for Arthur as well. He bit his lip, eyes and ears (as well as magic) straining as he tried to work out how he was going to do this.
"Okay you lot, listen up!" The man who had summoned them over began talking again, and Merlin found that he was half paying attention. It might give him a clue as to what he should do next. Not to mention he didn't exactly want himself to stand out.
"It's your first time, so there are a few rules. One, don't say a word to him, and definitely do not mention his name. Two, mainly for you sorcerers, you'll have to do it in darkness. Breaks 'em good and proper when they can't see a thing. Three, for those of you wanting a screamer, sorry, wrong place. We haven't got a sound out of him for months, but trust me, he can feel it. Fourth, if you feel magic, don't fret. Just a little incentive to keep him conscious for you, ignore it. He's the only one it hurts, it won't touch you. Five..." The man broke off, a sadistic grin splitting his face all but in half. "Enjoy. The Pendragons have ruined your lives in one way or another. This could be the only chance you have. Do what you want, just no lasting damage."
Merlin backed against the wall as the man strode off. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. His anger was beginning to get the better of him, and he could feel the magic seeping out of him. He had to do something before he completely ruined any plan he was half way through forming. He saw the man who had sold him the whip duck out of sight and disappear into a backroom, and without really thinking what he was doing, Merlin stole across the room, ducking through the doorway after him.
"Hey, you can't..." The end of the man's sentence disappeared as he crumpled, hitting the floor with a thud. Another flash of the warlock's eyes, and he was bound and gagged. Even Merlin couldn't bring himself to consciously kill him. He had to hold onto some part of himself if he was going to get Arthur through this. But it certainly had helped. Merlin both looked and felt far more in control when he left the room. It was time to get his prince back.
His new found confidence didn't last very long. No sooner had he left the room, he caught sight of Dunran. The man was clearly preparing himself for his latest torment, and as Merlin watched, someone seemed to give him some sort of signal and he moved towards a heavy door, lust burning in his eyes as a sadistic grin split over his face.
Merlin was running before he even thought about what he was doing.
Arthur was hanging from the chains again. They had stripped his breeches from him this time, leaving him completely naked. It wasn't only his hands that were chained; his feet were shackled too, anchoring him to the floor. He tried to control his breathing, refused to let himself think about what was coming.
It had been the same for weeks. They would take him to the room overnight, then leave him to the mercy of whoever was coming during that day after re-chaining him in the empty, dark room. But something had changed over the last few days, ever since that stranger had arrived. Each morning – well, Arthur presumed it was morning, he couldn't be so sure any more – the stranger had walked in with his blade and a strange bottle. Arthur had never gotten a proper look at it, he refused to look at the man. All he knew was that it was the reason why shallow cuts were now littering his torso, and knew that it explained the hour or so he had in absolute agony afterwards. Thankfully, the pain didn't last, but it was like he was losing any grip he still had on sanity as the poison worked its way through his system. Somehow, it was as if it made him feel the torment inflicted on him more during the day, the magic working overtime to keep him conscious. The same man returned that evening when they had finished restraining him back in the room. Another cut and a different liquid later, and the feelings faded, leaving him a trembling wreck on the floor.
The first man of the day had arrived. Arthur had grown used to listening for the slightest sounds, knowing they would keep as quiet as possible. It was the only thing he ever heard, certainly not another human voice. A second small click indicated that the door had been shut, and the slightest trickle of light that had managed to escape into the room was quickly cut out. He listened hard to the footsteps as the figure crossed the room, and inwardly groaned. He knew who this was. It made sense why they had chained his feet now.
There was a brief pause, the room almost seeming to hold its breath before the first blow struck. Arthur had been expecting it however, and as the whip struck him across the back of the knees, he had already clenched his jaw, eyes burning in humiliation. His legs automatically jerked, and the sounds of the chains rattling as he was held in position was the only thing that could be heard throughout the whole of the room as the man continued to bring the thick leather whip across the back of Arthur's legs, never once rising above his waist and crossing over with the occasionally still bleeding wounds across his back.
Arthur found himself counting in his head. That was the only blessing he could find when it came to the regulars, he knew what to expect and how long it was going to last. Not that he let it show. He knew should his tormenters have any idea he almost found relief in the regulars, they would stop them coming, never mind the payment they were receiving for it. As soon as he had reached the twentieth strike, the man could be heard reeling the whip back in, breathing heavily. The sound of footsteps could be heard, and Arthur could just make out his form in the darkness come to stand in front of him before he was sharply backhanded, his head snapping to one side.
And then it was over. The man strode from the room, the slightest trickle of light flickering in momentarily before it was shut off again. Arthur winced when he felt the magical brand flare into life, forcing the magic through his body and reducing the stinging in his legs slightly. Not enough to make him stop feeling it, but enough to clear his head. They wanted him to be able to feel each and every punishment, and that wouldn't happen if the pain from the attack before was still dominating his senses.
As the door opened again, Arthur shut his eyes. He felt hot tears prick at the corner of his vision when he came to recognise these footsteps. He would take the whipping any day over what this man threw at him. He seemed to be worse than the others, and Arthur knew it wasn't getting any easier even if the man did come at least three times a week now. Would he never be satisfied?
He refused to open his eyes even as the man came to a stop in front of him, grabbing his jaw with a strong, calloused hand and tilting his head first to one side, then the other. He said not a word as he continued his inspection, but he finally let go again. If possible, Arthur squeezed his eyes even tighter when he felt the man move around him, a bruising grip on his hips holding him still. Arthur knew what was about to happen, it was what happened every time. But that didn't make the pain and humiliation easier to bear.
Instead of the burning pain he was expecting, Arthur was not prepared for the door to suddenly fly open, the dim light being bright enough to burn him even through closed lids. The hands on his hips disappeared with a curse. It was the first human voice Arthur had heard since the stranger had entered his cell those few days ago.
"Didn't realise you were so impatient, boy." The man's voice was nothing more than a snarl, and Arthur focused on breathing rather than listening to it. Despite the number of times the man had used and violated his body, Arthur could distance himself from it if he didn't know what the man sounded or even looked like. There didn't appear to be any answer, but Arthur could have sworn he heard the faintest whisper. He had taught himself to listen for the faintest sounds, knowing it may be the only way he could get out of here. That had been months ago, but still Arthur could hear even a pin drop.
He felt the man being thrown away from him, the whistle in the air indicating his flight seconds before the sickening thud made Arthur realise he wouldn't have to fear the man that day. There was the sound of uncertain footsteps, but still Arthur couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. The light was too bright.
A gasp from somewhere in front of him caused him to turn his head away, finally letting his eyes slide open a crack. For a moment, he fought furiously against the instinct to snap them shut again, but finally, they adjusted enough for him to open them the rest of the day. Soft hands cupped his face, turning his head back to look at whoever it was, but Arthur had mastered one trick during his time in captivity. His eyes simply slid past whoever it was. If he couldn't put a face to the abuser, it didn't make it as personal.
"A...Arthur?" Arthur swallowed at the voice. He knew that voice, a distant memory in a past where there was no pain. But just as he began to place it, a wave of pain crashed over him and his eyes rolled wildly. Immediately, the burn reacted, flaring into life and bringing him back to consciousness again. His head was hanging when it finally died away. His exhausted mind and body was all but screaming for the welcome of the blackness. He didn't want to stay conscious any longer...
A curse sounded from somewhere in front of him, and then Arthur realised whoever this was must be new. The regulars had become used to seeing the burn flare white as it kept the prisoner alert.
"Its okay, Arthur. I'm going to get you out of here." The voice sounded close to tears, but Arthur was too busy focusing on one word. His name. For the first time in eight months, he was hearing another human say his name.
He felt the figure bend down, and before Arthur could comprehend anything, he felt the shackles around his ankles snap open. There was a pause, soft footsteps, before the chain binding him to the ceiling also lowered, and before Arthur had a chance to get a grip on reality, the manacles also snapped open and he was sent toppling forwards.
"Arthur! I'm sorry. C'mon, I'm going to get you out..." There it was again, the same promise, the same voice. An arm curled around his shoulders, clearly trying to get him to stand, and Arthur flinched back violently. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support his weight. Well, what was left of it. Instead, he ended up in a crumbled heap on the floor, arms shaking as he tried to push himself up right. His legs burned and his back felt like it was on fire, but still he did not let a sound escape him.
Instead, he did the only thing he could think of. He pushed himself backwards across the floor. Normally, they had restrained him before they had freed him from the chains, although what they expected Arthur to be able to do, he had no idea. But this was the first time he had been untied for however long, and he wasn't going to sit by and let the chance escape him.
He didn't manage to get very far before his hand caught on the manacles now resting on the floor, immediately pitching him forwards. His elbow then proceeded to collide with the same manacle, and as he slipped, Arthur somehow twisted and ended up on his back. Only to instantly roll over, eyes smarting as the wounds on his back were caught.
"What have they done to you?" The voice whispered, and as Arthur lay there, he could have sworn a hand ghosted over the back of his head, the only part of his body that wasn't scarred in some way of the other. Breathing heavily through his nose, he made to push himself upright again.
"No, no, no, Arthur, stay there. I promise I'm going to get you out, just don't...don't hurt yourself anymore." The voice was gentle, almost caring sounding, and Arthur found himself with an almost overwhelming urge to just sit there and cry. He was so exhausted, in so much pain, and yet he couldn't escape it. Abuse he could take. Kindness on the other hand, he didn't know how to handle any more.
He hadn't realised the door had been left only slightly ajar until it burst open. Flinching, Arthur buried his head in the crook of his arm, trying to shield his eyes from the light.
"Bring the intruder to me. Take him back to his cell, make sure the restraints are tight. He'll pay for this. You, check on Dunran. If he's alive, tell him he can have the boy in his cell, our apology." The voice was low and commanding and as footsteps thundered across the room, Arthur didn't put up a fight as the leather restraints immediately lashed his arms behind his back, despite the way it made his back burn. He was hauled to his feet, but once again, his legs instantly gave way. The man restraining him tutted irritably, bending down and tying the prince's feet. He then stood up again, and as if the once well built prince was nothing more than a child, slung him over his shoulder.
"Arthur!" The scream followed him out, and Arthur suddenly found himself concerned about whoever that was. But as he was thrown back into his cell and his arms once more lashed to the wall, he knew what they must have been doing.
Letting him think there was someone out there who still cared, only to pull it away from him at the last moment. Some of his tormenters could be quite twisted when they wanted to be. His eyes scrunched against a new wave of pain as his back connected with the wall, and immediately, the burn reacted, driving a darkness through him. Resting his head back against the wall, Arthur made no effort to stop the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
When were they going to stop?
It's not over yet...