Title: Zeal

Author: Kitty O

Rating: T

Warnings: Sadness, what I guess could be considered a Dark! character, and mentions of violence and torture. Sort of spoilers for 4.03, set after 4.03 sometime.

A/N: I admit, I'm actually pretty embarrassed about this one. It's just so dramatic. But it's one of those ideas that get stuck in my head and absolutely refuse to leave until they've been written down. So I wrote it down! I can't imagine I'll ever continue it; I can't think of a story for it. I went ahead and posted it as complete.

Review?

Raw, throat-ripping screams erupted from the mouth of the sorcerer chained to the table, his wrists, ankles, and neck held down by magic-restraining fetters. The man standing above him could see the sorcerer's convulsing body easily through the gloom, though the individual injuries were hard to make out.

Sorcerer, liar, fake. Plotting against Camelot and its throne. Yelling and twisting and trapped.

Your father would be proud of the zeal with which you track down magic-users, a voice inside said.

The latest bout of agony had diminished, and the sorcerer tried to lift his head. "Please," he begged the man who controlled his fate. "Please, Arthur, I'm not hiding anything—I swear I'm not! Please…" His rough voice faded away.

The king had met, for the smallest of moments, those tear-filled blue eyes. He quickly looked away, but the eyes were still on him. He looked to the torturers and gave his command.

"We must know all the information he has about the rebellion," he said coldly. "Find out."

The small, pale sorcerer whimpered. "Arthur, I don't—" he tried to plead. But the king simply nodded to his men and stalked from the cell, trying to ignore the hiss of hot metal on skin and the following shriek and sobs. He left his old friend behind.

The king made it all the way out to the hall, where he was alone, before the pain in his chest and inability to breathe became too much for him. He dropped to his knees silently, as defeated as he had ever been.