A/N: Guess who forgot to post yesterday! Meeee!

The night was cold. Arthur curled up on himself as much as he could, but his wet clothing clung to him, driving wracking shivers through him. Merlin had shared the food the guards had given him with Arthur, but he couldn't do anything about the cold.

The small windows high in the walls still showed dark sky when the guards returned for Arthur. Merlin had his head pillowed on his rune shackles, sleeping soundly. Arthur stared at Merlin but didn't wake him as they hauled Arthur out.

Arthur was marched through the castle to the kitchens.

"Martha!" one of the guards called. "Got another dogsbody for you."

A squat, stout, red-cheeked woman walked over. She scanned Arthur up and down. "New prisoner, eh? Put him with Gerald." She snapped her fingers. "Gerald!"

A muscular man over a head taller than Arthur stalked over. "Yes?"

"Teach the new dogsbody the ropes," the cook said.

Arthur swallowed. The large man was a deterrent to escape. But it shouldn't be too bad. Working in a kitchen shouldn't be that hard.

"If he doesn't work well, you just let us know," the guard that had beaten Arthur said.

"I will!" the cook said. "Get to work!"

Gerald seized his arm. "This way."

Arthur bit his tongue and stumbled along with Gerald through the courtyard to a well.

"Stay here," Gerald rumbled.

Arthur braced himself against the well edge until Gerald came back. He dropped two empty buckets next to him.

"Fill these," Gerald said.

Arthur nodded. As he hooked the bucket on the rope and lowered it down, he scanned the courtyard. Guards littered the courtyard, standing at the closed gate outside, at the stables against the wall, and at the entrance to the kitchens. They passed on the castle walls every few minutes.

"Hurry up." Gerald smacked the back of Arthur's head.

Arthur bristled. Insults leapt to the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it down. This wasn't just him joshing around with Merlin. His normal retorts could get him killed.

The bucket splashed in the water down below. He reversed the crank, pulling hard. His arms trembled. Curse this blood loss. Without it, he'd already be on his way home.

Pain stabbed through his injured thigh. He sighed. Maybe not. His injury alone hindered flight.

He brought the bucket up and heaved it to the ground, water splashing onto the cobblestones. He hooked the other bucket to the rope and filled it with water as well.

"Bring them back," Gerald said.

Arthur picked up the buckets and strode next to Gerald. His injured leg buckled under him, pitching him to the ground. The buckets spilled onto the cobblestones, soaking into his still-damp pants and shirt.

"Clumsy oaf!" Gerald hauled Arthur up by his shirt collar and plunged his rock-hard fist into his stomach.

Something cracked in Arthur's side. Horrible pain spread through him. He cried out.

"Go refill the buckets," Gerald said.

Arthur picked up the buckets and stumbled over to the well, riding waves of hot pain. He hooked one of the buckets on the rope and cranked it down. Every time he turned the handle, pain stabbed through his ribs. He set his jaw and forced himself through it. He was used to pain. He could do this.

Finally, both buckets were filled again. Arthur grabbed them and drew in a deep breath. He couldn't spill them this time. He wouldn't be able to crank again.

Gerald grabbed his arm and hauled him across the courtyard. Arthur's leg buckled again but Gerald kept him upright. Once inside the kitchen, Gerald grabbed the buckets from him and set them on the counter.

"What took you so long?" the cook asked.

"The new slave spilled the water," Gerald said.

Arthur snapped. His hands curled into fists. "I am not a slave." He raised his fist, ready to clock Gerald for his insult.

Gerald moved faster than Arthur anticipated given his size and bulk. His fist thudded into Arthur's temple.

Buzzing filled Arthur's body. He dropped, sickening pain and nausea spreading through him.

Hands tugged at him, pulling him to his feet. "Get to work!" Gerald said.

He was propped against a counter. He leaned on the counter, his legs buckling. A small body pressed up next to him.

"Here, let me help you," a young woman said quietly.

Arthur trod through the sickening spin in his head to focus on his body and the kitchen around him. Arms trembling, head and ribs throbbing, shirt and pants clinging to his skin. Wooden counter below his arms, young servant woman by his side, Gerald at his elbow with his large arms crossed. The servant at his side pressed a knife and an onion into his hands.

A knife.

They would severely regret arming him.

He spun and plunged the knife into Gerald's stomach. The large man folded in on himself, grunting. Arthur ran out, weaving a bit due to the spinning pain in his head.

The gate was still closed and guarded, but that didn't matter. He needed to find Merlin. He stabbed one of the guards at the kitchen entrance and wrestled his sword away from him.

The guard dropped. Arthur shoved the dagger into his belt and charged the other guard.

The guard met his overhead stroke with solidity. Pain stabbed through Arthur's ribs. He swallowed a groan and swung his sword into the guard's side.

The guards at the gate, the wall, and the other entrance charged him. A bell rang. Arthur ran towards the entrance. He had to make his way to the dungeons and then make his way back out.

The two guards from the other entrance swung at him at once. He blocked both swords, his arms trembling. The guards from the gate ran at him from the side. He couldn't take his sword away from the first two to defend himself from the others.

One of the guards swung the flat of his sword into Arthur's injured thigh. Horrible pain buckled his leg. He screamed, the sword falling from his fingers. The guards closed in, grabbing his arms.

Arthur heaved for breath. He had failed. He had barely even begun to escape and he had failed.

The guards dragged him towards the stables and tied his wrists to a tall pole. They ripped his shirt from his back.

Arthur leaned his forehead against the wooden pole. He squeezed his eyes shut. Punishment was coming, probably severe. He had to endure it without screaming, without breaking.

"This is for Gerald," a guard said.

A whip snapped. Arthur flinched. The guards laughed raucously. Pain split low in his back. He bit down on his tongue as the whip tore into his back over and over. The pain overwhelmed him, blood streaming down his back.

The guard that had beat him over the dirty floor stepped forward, grabbing his shoulder. "I will make sure you never run away again."

"Yeah!" one of the guards called. "Get 'im, Boar!"

Boar chuckled and raised a club.

Arthur tensed, his eyes widening.

Boar swung the club into Arthur's shin. His leg snapped, shooting excruciating pain through him. He screamed and slumped in his bonds.

The guards untied him and hauled him away from the post. One kicked his broken leg. Darkness descended on him.


Footsteps echoed through the dungeon. Merlin started from his half-awake state and ran to the bars of his cell. The magic-suppressing cuffs they had somehow known to put him in clanked against the bars.

The guards marched past, dragging Arthur with them. Arthur was almost white and completely unconscious.

Merlin's heart twisted. What had they done to Arthur? The sun was just rising and he was already out.

The guards tossed Arthur into his cell, the one next to Merlin's, then left laughing among themselves.

Arthur lay crumpled on the stone. His shirt was gone, revealing a torn-up back still slowly leaking blood. Merlin tightened his hands around the bars. The b—ds had whipped Arthur. A large purple bruise spread over his ribs. His right leg was splinted.

Merlin drew in a sharp breath. They had splinted his leg wrong. If Arthur's leg was left to heal that way, he wouldn't be able to walk right, let alone run away in an escape. If the break was simple, it might be able to be rebroken and set right so he could eventually walk normally again, but that didn't help them escape.

A/N: So this is where the tag "medical inaccuracies" comes in. From what Dr. Google can tell me, I have the solution to a wrongly healed broken bone right but I didn't quite get the pain and stuff in the right place after the bone heals wrong. But I wrote this in the middle of boring class discussion and professor rabbit trails and by the time I actually managed to look wrongly healed bones up, I couldn't be bothered to change it.