What can I say? Real life? Writer's block? Crappy job? Huge decisions to be made?
Arthur grabbed hold of his chair, almost throwing it across the room as he yelled out in frustration. It hadn't even yet been an hour since Acrotus' guards had dropped him back, yet the prince had managed to almost destroy his entire room. The curtains had a great big rip in them, the table was halfway across the room from where it had started and all of the chairs were tipped over. He knew that whoever was sent to tidy up the mess would just believe that he was having a tantrum, but Arthur knew he was entitled to one.
Mainly because at the back of his mind, he knew that whoever it was that had to tidy up after him, it wouldn't be Merlin. Merlin was with Acrotus, and somehow, Arthur just knew that the man was not going to be letting the servant out of his sight. With no idea that Acrotus wanted Merlin because of the secret that the warlock had been hiding, Arthur knew enough about the noble to know that he would keep the servant close because he had seen how Arthur had reacted. He had seen that the prince was terrified that something would happen to his friend, and it was possible he had even seen part of Arthur's escape, he might know how crucial Merlin was for Arthur to stay sane.
The prince let out a long groan as he surveyed the wreckage of his room, coming to a stop in front of his mirror as he did so. For a long moment, he could only stare at his reflection, wondering precisely who it was that he was seeing staring back at him. Even with how well his recovery was going and the fact that that he was beginning to put on weight and build up some muscle again, there could be no denying that he still looked awful. The nightmare had left deep, shadowed circles around his eyes and his face was pale, giving him an almost haunted look. The fact that his eyes seemed to dart around all over the place rather than staying in one place didn't help either. They had a depth to them that had never been present before he was captured. It was like there was a swirling mass of emotions running just under the surface, something you could only see out of the corner of your eye rather than if you looked directly. Looking directly at him, Arthur looked fine and recovering well. Glance from the side, and it revealed just how much of a mess he still was.
Hating the sight that he was looking at, Arthur didn't think about what he was doing. Letting out another yell of frustration, he forced his fist forward, crashing it into the glass. It immediately shattered, his knuckles bleeding freely, yet Arthur found that it was almost as if he was numb to the pain. It was in a slow-motion type manner that he plucked a shard from his bloodied hand, staring at the way the blood was flowing. His mind was so distressed that the pain was barely registering.
What he wasn't expecting, however, was for the burn to spring into life. He hadn't felt it for days, weeks even. Definitely not since he had been back in Camelot, and Arthur truly had thought that he had recovered from it, that it had somehow been nullified now that Dunran was dead. But what he had just done had given it incentive enough to flare back up again, and Arthur found that he was on his knees, his hand clutching at his shoulder even as the world seemed to spin sharply around him.
How long he knelt there for, Arthur had no idea. Time didn't seem to exist as he forced himself to breathe through the pain. But it wasn't just the physical burn that was causing tears to prick at the corners of his eyes. It was the fact that it was even happening. Arthur had truly thought that it had been over, that he had moved on from what had happened and that there would be no lasting reminder of his hell apart from what was going on in his own mind. Looking in the mirror had brought all that crashing down around him, and whilst he knew that he was looking better than before, he was still being plagued at almost every turn.
By the time he found that he could think straight again, Arthur realised that he was curled up on his side, once again trying to make himself as small as possible. But even as he noticed what he was doing, he made no attempt to alter his position. It wasn't like anyone was going to come in without knocking, Merlin was the only one that did that and he was caught, at Acrotus' mercy just like Arthur had been. The prince just had to hope that somewhere along the way of rescuing him, Merlin had heard Acrotus' name. It might have been months ago, but the servant had seen the terror in Arthur's eyes, the prince just had to hope it would be enough to trigger the memory (if there even was one!) and make Merlin aware that he had to get away, far away from the man.
Even thinking about Merlin, the one person that had pulled him from his hell when all else seemed lost, made Arthur suddenly grit his teeth in determination. His eyes sparked slightly as he slowly sat up, glaring at the door for all he was worth. Merlin had been the one to save him, to get him out and then stick by him through everything that Arthur had put him through. Wasn't it time to repay the favour? Wasn't it time that Arthur risked everything to get Merlin away from Acrotus? What kind of friend would he be if he allowed himself to be saved, and then just let Merlin suffer whilst he sat here and felt sorry for himself?
Nodding to himself, Arthur stood up. For a moment, the world seemed to spin alarmingly and the prince was glad that he was standing so close to his bed as everything seemed to lurch. He reached out a hand – luckily his good one – and supported himself as he waited for his vision to clear again. It seemed seeing Acrotus had affected him more deeply than he realised, but this was the man that had poisoned him, was the man that he had been sold to as if he was nothing more than a common slave rather than the Crown Prince and Heir to the throne of Camelot. What made it worse was at the time, it was the slave rather than the prince that Arthur had been feeling. Realising that he couldn't move anywhere like this, Arthur ripped off the corner of his shirt, binding it roughly around his knuckles in order to protect the now damaged hand. It took far longer than it should have and numerous attempts to try and tie the makeshift bandage off, but Arthur knew that he had to do something rather than just standing there and letting the dizziness consume him. He had to keep thinking straight if he was ever going to get anywhere.
Eventually though, he found that his legs had stopped shaking enough for him to be able to take a tentative step forward. Growing in confidence and still filled with the determination that he could do this, Arthur took another, then another. His legs suddenly began to support his weight properly and his head lifted in confidence as he strode over to his chambers door, pausing only long enough to grab his sword. He was not going to be a helpless prisoner this time, he was going to be a knight.
Unfortunately for Arthur, his new found confidence didn't last very long. He was still trying to get his sword into his belt as he opened the door, cursing the fact that his bleeding hand was making it rather difficult to do so. It meant that he didn't notice that there was someone standing directly outside, about to have knocked. Seeing a set of feet come into his vision, Arthur gasped as he looked up, realising that the man he had been about to seek was standing right in front of him. Clumsily, he tried to pull his sword free again, but Acrotus reacted first. The flat of his hand shot out, striking Arthur square in the throat.
Instantly, the prince dropped almost silently to the floor as he struggled to catch his breath, gasping in a desperate attempt to get air into his lungs. As he coughed harshly, Acrotus simply bent down and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back into his chambers and all the way across to the bed. With his eyes streaming from the impact and his windpipe only just beginning to show signs of wanting to work again, Arthur only just managed to rise to his hands and knees before Acrotus slammed the door shut, turning the key as he did so. As Arthur slowly rose his head, a foot in the stomach caused him to flip over, landing on his back and once again finding that breathing was harder than it should be. Acrotus bent down beside him, leaning over him in an almost mocking manner.
"You're looking good, Arthur. All that time I spent trying to prepare you, and now look at you, fighting back once again." Arthur didn't even try and talk, knowing that it was going to come out as nothing more than a rasping noise considering the blow to his throat, but he did glare up at the man. Acrotus smirked in satisfaction at the look before backhanding him sharply.
"By now," he continued, grabbing Arthur's chin in order to roll his head back again so that he was facing his tormentor. "I should have you as the obedient slave, ready to serve my every need."
Arthur struggled as Acrotus suddenly straddled him, his knees pressing into the prince's side as his hands rested on either side of Arthur's neck, forcing his captive to look straight up at him. "According to Dunran, you are good at some needs."
Acrotus' voice was laced with venom and just a hint of lust, and the prince snarled in bucked upwards, trying to dislodge the man. Acrotus just laughed, however, rocking back slightly and letting go of Arthur's neck, climbing off the prince as he did so and glaring impassively down at him. He didn't seem to be too impressed with the fact that Arthur was struggling again.
"It seems that it is going to be a while before you are my slave then. Got a bit of the old fighting spirit back, have you?" Acrotus' voice was mocking and cruel, yet Arthur simply used that time to try and push himself upwards. Acrotus placed his foot in the royal's stomach, forcing him back down to the floor, yet Arthur simply glared. He was not going to lie here and take this, not again. Not after everything.
"Why are you doing this?" Arthur whispered. His thoughts about his voice were correct, it was harsh and rough sounding, but he couldn't just lie here in silence and listen to Acrotus talking about making him a slave. He could understand it when Arthur had been a defenceless prisoner, but there was no way that Acrotus would be able to get him out of Camelot now without the entire kingdom being made aware of the fact. Arthur couldn't even understand why the man was here.
"Because someone told me that you were destined for great things, Arthur Pendragon. And there is nothing that I find more rewarding than taking something that should be great and destroying it, especially when that involves twisting it to my own needs. The only thing that you are going to be destined for now, little prince, is pleasing me."
"You'll never get away with this."
"Oh, Arthur." Acrotus leant forward so that he could whisper in Arthur's ear. "I already have." And with that, he grabbed Arthur by the hair and pulled him into a sitting position. Both of Arthur's hands flew to his head as he tried to dislodge the grip, but Acrotus only shifted his hold until he had Arthur by the wrists instead. Despite his feet scrambling for grip on the smooth, wooden floor, Arthur couldn't stop Acrotus from dragging him backwards. His back hit the bedpost even as a hand fisted in his hair once more, slamming his head back and causing him to see stars.
By the time Arthur's vision had cleared, Acrotus had unravelled the cords holding the curtains around the bed back. Arthur made to lunge forward, but an arm across his chest stopped him from going very far and instead pulled him back again. Despite struggling as much as he could against Acrotus, the fact that he was already on the floor put Arthur at a disadvantage and he didn't get very far before his hands were being pulled above his head. Before Arthur could get away, Acrotus had used the cord to lash Arthur's hands to the bed.
"Why are you doing this? You'll never get away with it, all I have to do is yell."
"Then why haven't you?" Acrotus enquired pleasantly, satisfied that Arthur was restrained and moving through the room, tidying things as he did so and sending Arthur what could be considered a fatherly look. "Or could it be that you know I'll take it out on that servant of yours if you think about struggling. He's so trusting, don't you find? He's already believing everything that I am saying…"
"If you hurt him…"
"You'll what? You are in no position to argue, little prince. And you probably don't believe this, but Merlin has talents of his own that I would rather like to get my hands on. Going after him has nothing to do with you, but it does provide a nice little incentive. If you behave, and do exactly as I say, I'll treat him like the servant that he is. You try my patience, Pendragon, and that Merlin of yours will be joining you in the ranks of slavery."
"You'll still never get away with it." Arthur spat, twisting his hands in order to test the bindings holding him still. As a result of it being the bed ties, the rope was gentle around his wrists, and Arthur had the feeling that Acrotus was more trying to make a point than actually tie him up. It was his way of showing that he could do whatever he liked, and right now, Arthur couldn't think of a way of stopping him. Every solution that he could come up with would result in Merlin getting hurt, and considering everything that they had just been through, that was not something that Arthur could allow to happen.
"You see, you're getting the picture." Acrotus had moved forward again now, rolling a piece of material in between his hands, twisting it as he approached. Arthur swallowed hard, trying to push himself backwards, but finding that he had nowhere to go. Acrotus knelt in front of him, twirling the fabric a little more before suddenly shoving it between Arthur's lips and tying it behind his head, effectively gagging him.
"You can probably feel that give it an hour or so, you'll be able to work yourself free. That's what I'm hoping for. Come to my chambers when you get yourself out of these ropes, and maybe we can come up with some sort of deal. For you, I'm afraid there is no question about it, you belong to me now. But maybe if you grovel sweetly enough, Merlin might stand a chance."
Arthur wrenched his head to the side, trying to dislodge the gag so that he could answer back. Acrotus stood up, moving over to the door and watching him struggle with a satisfied expression on his face.
"I always get what I want, Arthur, you should know this by now. Come to me when you are free." With those words, he unlocked the door, slipped out into the corridor and shut it softly behind him again, although he didn't lock it. Arthur knew why, knew that he didn't want anyone to get suspicious about why he would be seen to lock the prince's chambers. As he tugged on his bindings again, Arthur realised that no one would even realise that he was back from the hunt yet, that wouldn't know that he had left the rest of the knights.
Letting out a muffled cry of protest, Arthur yanked himself forward, doing anything he could to try and get free from the ropes. He didn't know what he was going to do when he achieved it, didn't know whether to go to his father or simply do as Acrotus said and go to the man's chambers. Arthur knew that his father would not care if Merlin got caught in the crossfire, and Arthur was more determined than ever that his loyal servant was not going to get harmed, not if Arthur could help it.
For now, however, the next step almost didn't matter. He had to find a way of working himself free from these ropes. With no ability to call out for help, he knew that it was up to him in order to do this. He knew what Acrotus was capable of, and knew that time was of the most essential importance. Every moment the noble had with Merlin was another moment where he could be doing something to the loyal servant. Arthur had to get himself free, now.
With that thought burnt into his mind, Arthur fought against the ropes holding him prisoner in his own room with more intensity than he had done for a long time, adamant that he was going to get free.