A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.
Firstly I just want to say an absolutely massive thank you to you guys – the response for chapter one was overwhelming. So many of you left reviews, favourited and followed this story, and I'm so grateful to you!
I've made an alteration to the bio of this story that there will be Merlin whump. Quite a lot. Sorry. And also a magic reveal.
"Merlin, you alright mate?" Gwaine asked hesitantly, pain etched into every word.
"Peachy." Despite the assurance the word came out as a groan. Merlin shuffled to get comfortable, letting out what sounded like grunts; as if he was trying to keep noises of pain at bay.
"What happened?" Arthur asked the dreaded question, not sure if he was up to hearing the answer.
"Tired," came the sleepy reply, "tell you in morning." Merlin grumbled, then let out another grunt followed by several moments of silence. Arthur's gut twisted in fear until he heard the unmistakable gentle snore of his manservant.
"I think we all should try to sleep." Arthur whispered and could feel everyone nodding in silent agreement. With that, he allowed himself to close his eyes, albeit in an unrestful slumber.
When morning came, Arthur didn't need to ask Merlin what had been done to him. He could see it clear as day when he awoke with a start, wishing he couldn't. What little light trickled into the tiny cell block bathed his servant in a soft yellow glow, enough to illuminate the numerous injuries coating his body. The most obvious was the large purple bruise clamping his right eye shut, which feathered out into paler bluish bags under his sleeping eyes. Cuts littered their way across his face, tiny but angry, glowing a fierce red starkly against his unnaturally pale skin. The cuts peppered his neck, disappearing under a ripped blue tunic. God knows what had happened to his torso, but it wasn't good by the look of the crimson stain adorning his stomach. Arthur was partly thankful, partly angered that the rest of his thin frame was hidden in shadow.
"Merlin!" Gwaine awoke sharply, almost screaming when he saw what he could of his best friend's body. This also caused Merlin to shoot up, wincing as he jostled the injuries he concealed, and Arthur cursed inwardly at how tactless Gwaine could be sometimes. "Are you alright?" His Irish husk sounded so guilt-ridden Arthur didn't know if Merlin would be able to given him a satisfactory answer. Although if Arthur had tried to speak, his voice would've matched the dark haired knight's – minus the Irish husk.
"I'm fine, it's just a few cut-" A low moan of pain escaped his lips contradicting the warlock.
"Now will you please tell us what happened?" Arthur cringed at how annoyed he sounded as he tried to mask his apprehension for his best friend. Whose benefit that was for, he wasn't sure. Though it probably was not the best course of action considering Gwaine was now scowling at him.
"Usual warlord stuff." Merlin shrugged, then let out another involuntary groan as every inch of him stung, ached, hurt – pick a verb and that was how Merlin felt. "Tell me everything about your King, tell me everything about Camelot, would any of the knights every swear allegiance to me?" Merlin's voice took on a gruffer, more mocking tone. "It's all so clichéd." Merlin chuckled, the noise sounding hoarse. "He didn't like it when he I told him of Arthur's grumpiness in the morning or his obsession with killing innocent wildlife." He smiled, though once again not quite reaching his eyes.
"He tortured you?" Arthur growled, his voice low and threatening. Merlin, trying to avert the attention away from him and defuse the situation, gave the king a mock sigh.
"Yes, sire. I do believe that is what people call it." His efforts failing miserably, Merlin reduced himself to a contemplative silence.
"Why you?" The confusion in his voice evident, Arthur stared at the floor, unable to make sense of anything anymore. "I'm the King, for God's sake, I have knowledge of every tiny detail about Camelot, why ask a servant?"
Little did Arthur know, that Merlin was not taken because he served the King, but rather because the warlord upstairs had been informed by one of his goons that Merlin had been spotted using magic. Clearly his usual tree-hiding plan had failed, and Drin (warlords never had names longer than one syllable) had tried to talk him into joining whatever pathetic cause he was on.
"He also wanted some tips on mucking out stables." Merlin tried with humour again – it fell on deaf ears. He began to grow tired of their silence. They were fine, Merlin was the one who had been tortured, not them, why were they so miserable? There was no time to dwell on this however, as the clump of footsteps echoed through the cells.
"Time for round two." The larger guard sneered, once again hauling Merlin to his feet with ease though this time it caused a painful gasp to escape the warlock's lips.
"Surprised you can count that high." Merlin coughed, groaning as the guards manhandled him towards the stairs.
"Wait!" The knights cried synonymously; Arthur and Gwaine once again the most prominent voices in the cell block.
"He's had enough, look at him – there's nothing to him!" Arthur cried. "Take me instead!"
"Can't do that, princess." The guard snarled, Gwaine letting out a low growl as his tease was used in such a malicious manner. "My lord's taken a liking to this one's screams it seems. Wants to hear some more." And in the blink of an eye, they were gone. Again.
Oh I'm mean and I know it. It's not going to get better any time soon…
Also something I forgot to mention last chapter, I'm considering doing a Merlin whump prompt series, which I realise there are many of, but I really like hurting Merlin (there's something wrong with me isn't there?) so let me know if you think this is a good idea, and PM me if you have any prompts already you want to share. I shall be sure to credit your idea when I post it.