The castle was large and cold. The brick box was woozy. The rain became a part of him. The chains became a fixture in reality. The consciousness around him seemed meaningless. He was too tired to move, care, think, feel, fight, remember...
Merlin wasn't moving and Arthur was scared.
The Prince was dragged from the small stone room into a larger, longer one which looked like it had once been used as a banquet hall. There were lit torches in the brackets on the walls and a chair with chains and straps attached in the centre of the room.
Arthur was forced into the chair by the guards, knowing it was useless to struggle and not wanting another beating. The straps were fastened and the chains wound tightly around Arthur's arms and legs. He couldn't move an inch.
The guards left him with Morgause. She smiled down at him as though she couldn't wait for what was going to happen next. She probably couldn't. It made Arthur sick.
When the guards returned, they were dragging a still unconscious Merlin between them. He did appear unhurt, but he was pale and limp and Arthur was very worried indeed.
"Lovely, just pop him down there," Morgause said to the guards. They threw Merlin down onto the cold floor and Arthur shouted in protest.
Morgause just laughed softly as she attached shackles to Merlin's wrists. They were silver and had strange runes and markings etched on them.
"Now then," Morgause said, pulling Merlin into a kneeling position facing Arthur, although his chin rested on his chest and his eyes were closed. "Let's wake our guest up, shall we?"
She stepped in front of Merlin, blocking him from Arthur's view, and whispered some words which the Prince found incomprehensible.
Arthur held his breath as Morgause finished the spell...