"Chapter 12 – Will"

"Get in there," Egan, snarled, shoving Arthur in the back so his weak knees buckled and he pitched forwards onto the solid stone floor. Unable to break his fall, due to the fact his hands were still securely tied behind his back, the best he could do was to turn his shoulder, taking the impact on his already bad arm instead of smashing his chin into the floor or breaking his nose. The pain made him wheeze and gasp as the freshly clotted blood ripped apart, opening the weeping wound again. The slash across his chest had numbed at least, instead of the livid hot scar it had been, it just throbbed and twinged, beating in time to his racing heart.

"So loyal," Egan said stepping into the cell after Arthur, "So very loyal," he repeated, making the word sound like something dirty, " – What is it with Camelot?" he asked as he circled slowly round Arthur.

"We believe that some things are actually worth dying for." Arthur replied coldly, turning his head to look pointedly in the other direction to Egan. Camelot was, loyalty, trust, friendship and courage; precisely everything that Cenred and his cronies would never understand, and precisely what Arthur would never betray no matter how they tried to get him to talk.

"Oh he will die for it – Be assured of that."

"Who-" Arthur began to ask, turning back to look at Egan, confused by the sudden cryptic turn in conversation. Who were they talking about? His father? But Egan was already leaving, striding across the cell. He slammed the door in his wake, with such force that it sent a concussion wave of sound echoing around the tiny space, making Arthur's already pounding head ache even more.

Groaning, Arthur rolled over, using the momentum to lever himself into a sitting position, and wormed his way over to the wooden pail by the door. There was only water in it, but it was cold and clean; refreshing his parched throat and cooling his burning face. Such a small and ordinary thing seemed a luxury in this miserable hole.
Briefly he considered Egan's words – Some one was in danger? But who? Was it true, or just some new mind game Egan had come up with to torture him with? Arthur pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, until he saw white stars bursting across his vision. Whatever the case he had to admit it was irrelevant, locked in here there was nothing he could do for anyone.

Leaning back against the wall he closed his eyes, breathing deeply and steadily, trying not the focus on the pain radiating through out his body. He forced his thoughts away from the cell, and everything that was happening to him here, instead he let his mind drift back, imagining Camelot.

The city was beautiful, bathed in a hint of golden summer sunshine. He sat on the steps to the castle, observing the courtyard, busy as usual with comings and goings of nobles and peasants alike.

Knights swept around, looking important, red capes billowing out behind them as they strode across the cobbles; gaggles of ladies stalking along behind them, giggling and whispering behind their hands as they went. Servants dashed to and fro, busy with their work, clutching bundles of laundry and stacks of supplies in their arms, or else pails of water laboriously drawn from the well.

One of the serving girls paused in her work, dropping her basket to the floor, as she pushed her raven curls from her eyes, to look up at him, smiling brightly. The rest of the scene melted away as he focused on her. She was wearing her usual lavender dress, the one she looked so lovely in. Her hair was neatly pinned at the back of her head, save for a few strands that had worked their way loose so the light breeze tugged at them, pulling the tight curls straight.

Arthur smiled to himself, the motion splitting his torn lip again, but he didn't mind the salty tang spreading across his lips, so long as he could concentrate on her - The beautiful Guinevere.

She would be so worried, he thought his grin widening a little further; not that she liked to admit to such things, though she usually did in her quaint flustered way. She would be so relived when he saw her again – If he saw her again, he realized suddenly.

That did cause his smile to slip, until now he had never truly believed he was going to die here, in this cell. For some reason he had been sure he was going to get out of here, an opportunity would present itself and he would be free - Wishful thinking.

His eyes snapped open, the serene image of Gwen vanishing to be replaced by the oppressively black darkness. He had always imagined his death to be a little more noteworthy than this, a sword in his hand and a battle cry on his lips, like a true warrior, not a lingering demise, whimpering and scared in the dark.

Footsteps outside his cell, and the scrape of the key in the lock, caused Arthur to sit up straighter, his pride refused to let them see him down - He might be down, but he wasn't going to act like it.

Two guards bustled in, one tall and lanky, the other shorter and fat; they sported the usual attire, mucky brown tunic complete with the twisting serpent insignia. At least it wasn't Egan back again.

The shorter man wordlessly set down a new pail of water, and picked up the old one, while the taller man just stood in the door way watching mutely – Apparently he was just there as back up incase the Prince tried something. Arthur spared them both a disparaging glance and a snort, before turning pointedly away to stare aloofly at the opposite wall.

"That will be all, thank you." Arthur said gravely, with out looking at either of the men, purposefully baiting the guard by using an arrogant tone.

"Why you cocky-"

"Ooommph!" Arthur gasped as the guard aimed a kick at his stomach; he had known the reward for his words would be violence before he had spoken, so he wasn't surprised by the reaction.

"Bit of a clever one this one," the guard told his colleague, stabbing a thumb at Arthur. "Roughing him up is the only thing he understands - Does him some good."

"A new henchman I see," Arthur gasped as brightly as he could, "So much work down here these days you have to delegate?"

"Yer that's right – Go on Will, teach him a lesson." The guard said, playing along with Arthur's words, jabbing a hand toward the Prince again. Will however didn't seem to share the savage delight at the idea of beating up the prisoner, he backed away a little, hands raised in deference. "Go on – Don't be soft – No one's gonna mind." The guard insisted.

"I don't know-" Will mumbled.

"What's the matter with you boy?" The guard asked, glaring at Will now. "What kind of pansies are they sending me? DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!"

"Yes, Will. Do as you are told!" Arthur drawled in a high pitched mockery of the guard, which earned him another kick to the ribs.

"Yes, Sire." Will mumbled meekly, stepping back into the cell again.

Arthur raised his chin, glaring defiantly up as Will advanced upon him, ready for whatever punishment the scrawny looking youth was about to dish out. A barbed comment was already on the tip of his tongue as he met the man's eyes, then froze.

"Speechless – That's a first. Scared of you he is – Must be that mean look in your eyes." The guard laughed, slapping Will on the back.

"Go on then," Arthur said, recovering from his shock, "Bet you punch like a girl anyway." Will still hesitated, eyes flicking away from Arthur to the other guard and back again. "Just do it," Arthur said, is voice softer now, kinder almost. Will nodded, swallowed and stepped forward, sinking a fist into Arthur's stomach. A kick was swift to follow, though it lacked any real force and Arthur had to whimper and hiss to improve the effect.

"Just wait till I come back," Will growled, giving Arthur a final rough shove in the chest that sent him sprawling. At the same moment Will's hands made contact, something smooth, heavy and cold, slithered down the front of his shirt, making him shiver in surprise, though he made no move to see what it was.

"Alright now boy, that's enough – Need to leave something for Cenred." The guard chuckled, nodding his head to the side to indicate they should go. Will nodded in response, turning to leave the cell, though he paused at the exit, glancing backwards.

"That should cut you some slack," he said with a ghost of a smile, then quickly hurried on, the door slamming behind him.

Arthur pushed himself up again, wriggling to nudge the object out of his shirt and onto the ground where he could get to it. By running his fingers over the floor he soon found it, despite the darkness. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands - It felt smooth, yet slightly ridged and pitted like wood grain, long and thin, rounded at one end, but circular and metal at the other; he ran his thumb nail down edge, feeling a cold line of steel buried in the wood. He grinned broadly, having identified the object, a pocket knife. Perfect – He really would be able to cut himself some slack with that.

Maybe he was getting out of here after all, with a little help from Will – Or as he knew him, Merlin.

AN: Thanks for sticking with me so long! More soon! As always I do love reviews - They make my day!