Chosen One
@whumptober prompt no.2 - Prophecy
TW: beating
Ice cold water brought him gasping back to consciousness. Arthur looked around, water streaming down his face. He was sprawled on a hard, cold floor, the room dimly lit. Not a room. A cell.
A pair of boots came into his vision, and he slowly followed them up until he was looking at a guard. As soon as he made eye contact, the man kicked him squarely in the stomach, rolling him onto his back with an ‘oof’.
“He’s awake,” the guard reported.
“Got an observant one there,” Arthur muttered.
He didn’t need to ask where he was. The raiding party that had surrounded them in the forest wore Cenred’s livery. He gritted his teeth as the memories came flooding back: the ambush, his men falling, fighting for their lives. They’d been outnumbered almost five to one and although the Knights of Camelot were good, they weren’t infallible.
Arthur was surprised to be alive. If Cenred’s men had got close enough to capture him, then they’d been close enough to run him through. He didn’t feel like asking though: it generally wasn’t a good idea to put ideas in your enemy’s head. Alive, he could get out of here. Dead limited his options somewhat.
“Well, then,” a silky voice said.
Arthur, out of principle, refused to look at Cenred. He stayed where he was, staring at the ceiling instead. It was better to conserve his energy. Cenred wouldn’t have brought him here to ask about grain stocks and Arthur would rather delay the inevitable as long as possible.
“A prince should kneel before his king, shouldn’t he?”
“You’re not-,” Arthur snapped down on the words as Cenred chuckled. He couldn’t let it be that easy.
He didn’t have to worry about saying anything else as a rattling filled the air. Too late did Arthur see the manacles locked around his wrists and ankles. A guard turned a crank set in the wall and the chains jerked, drawing Arthur’s hands above his head. They hauled him into a kneeling position.
Arthur had no intention of paying homage to his enemy. He scrambled to get his feet under him and stood up, his hands resting by his waist with the slack in his chains. He finally looked at Cenred, chin lifted in defiance.
The king was outside of the cell, perched on a wooden chair as if it was a throne. His legs were crossed, and he looked bored as he stared at Arthur, although one lip curled in satisfaction.
“I’ve wanted you in my dungeon for quite some time, Prince Arthur,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
“Thought you wanted me dead. What’s wrong, Cenred? Going soft?”
He knew the blow was coming before Cenred nodded at his man. Arthur rolled with the punch so it didn’t break his jaw but still had to spit out a bubble of blood.
“If it suited my purpose, you’d be in the dirt with so many of your precious knights. No. I want you alive.”
“If you’re hoping to ransom me, you’re going to be in for a surprise,” Arthur said shortly. His father might go to the edges of the five kingdoms and beyond looking for Morgana, but he was more likely to be disappointed Arthur had been caught than pay to get him back.
“No ransom,” Cenred said conversationally. “I don’t intend for your father to know you’re here. He can believe you’re dead, if he likes.”
“Then what purpose...” Arthur trailed off. He made a show of rolling his eyes, as if bored. “You don’t have the time to break me,” he scoffed.
Cenred shrugged. “I'm not on a deadline. No. I have until your father dies to make you mine. If you break earlier, then I’ll hasten his death. Until then, he can continue being a ruthless king and I’ll continue working on you.”
“What?”
Arthur had been trained for strategy his entire life. This, however, made no sense at all. While goading Cenred was easy, Arthur knew better than to believe Cenred was a fool. He wouldn’t have conquered his kingdom if he hadn’t thoroughly vanished his enemies.
His uncertainty was what the king had been waiting for. Cenred rose from his seat and gave a signal to the guards inside the cell. Arthur braced himself as one reached for the handle on the wall, determined not to react as his hands were first pulled above his head, then the winch tightened a fraction more and he was forced to rise on his toes, off balance.
Cenred wasn’t taking chances as the cell door unlocked and he stepped in. He came close, taking Arthur’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. Arthur wrenched his head away but Cenred held up his hand, forestalling another blow.
“There’s a prophecy about you, Arthur. Did you know?”
A muscle throbbed in Arthur’s jaw. He had no idea what Cenred was talking about, but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
“No,” Cenred chuckled softly. “I didn’t think you knew. A seer told me. Maybe you’d have learnt about your destiny if your father wasn’t such a tyrant. Instead, you’ve left it wide open for me to claim your destiny as my own.”
“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”
Cenred ignored him. “You’re destined to unite the lands of Albion. The Once and Future King, some call you. The prophesied one; the chosen one. Take your pick. You’re destined to hold ultimate power.”
Cenred sneered as he looked at his prisoner.
“Or, you were.”
To Arthur’s discomfort, Cenred held out his hand and one of his guards passed something over. Arthur couldn’t see it properly, but a glimpse at the handle made him think it was some sort of whip.
“You can torture me all you want. I’m not telling you anything about Camelot.”
“Don’t you understand, yet? I don’t need you to tell me about Camelot. I just need you to be mine.”
Arthur twisted so he could stare at his enemy with a raised eyebrow. It was all he could do to hide the pounding of his heart.
“Come again?”
Cenred gave a long sigh, as if Arthur was being particularly difficult. “You’re destined to hold power. I will not jinx the prophecy by killing you. Instead, I’ll merely bend you to my will, then when you become king, I’ll be the one with the power.”
Arthur rolled his eyes.
But he was scared. Torture for information, he could withstand to some extent. He’d been trained on how to give very little away, even at breaking point. But if no questions came his way, if it was just pain for pain’s sake... All men had their limit. Apparently, Cenred was in no rush, and that gave him time to be thorough.
A thud made him jump and he realised Cenred had dropped the whip.
“We have time,” he said quietly. Arthur supressed a shiver at how the king seemed to read his mind. “We can start slow. Or you could pledge your allegiance to me now and all of this will be over.”
“Never,” Arthur said, lifting his chin in cool defiance.
Cenred shrugged, although his smirk revealed he’d hope that would be the answer. He was going to enjoy this, Arthur realised. He thought he had the big prize in his reach, and it made him feel strong.
“There is no prophecy,” Arthur said. “You’re making this up.”
“If there was no prophecy, princeling, you’d currently be experiencing death by a thousand cuts,” Cenred said. “It gives me no pleasure keeping you alive, but I know how to focus on the big picture. You three,” he called suddenly to his guards. “Beat him.”
They really were starting slow. Arthur controlled his breathing, fixed his gaze on an oddly coloured stone in the wall, and zoned out as the men came at him with fists and boots.
They were thorough and, suspended the way he was, Arthur could do nothing to protect himself. Blood dripped down his chin and he suspected a broken rib given how hard it was to draw a proper breath.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he sneered, spitting a bubble of blood out from where he’d bitten his tongue at some point. “You hit like girls.”
“Ignore him,” Cenred said smoothly. “Goading my men so they kill you will not get you out of this, Arthur. I’d say give in now, but we both know you won’t.”
Cenred was suddenly right in front of him again.
“And I wouldn’t want you to. When you crawl on your knees and kiss my feet, I want it to be of your own volition. When you conquer the kingdoms in my name and deliver my enemy’s heads, I want you to enjoy serving me.”
“Then at least deafen me,” Arthur mocked, “so I don’t have to hear you go on.”
One of the guards moved forward again, but Cenred held up a hand, stopping him.
“Gag him for now. He’ll soon be singing a different tune.”
A guard disappeared out of the cell and returned with a piece of material in his hand. He approached but Arthur jerked his head to one side.
“Wait,” he panted. “Give me one last question.”
“Fine, fine,” Cenred waved a hand. “I suppose that’s the least I can grant you before I take everything.”
Arthur looked his enemy straight in the eye. “Is my servant alive?”
Cenred blinked. It was the first time Arthur had seen him look unsettled. He glanced at his men as if for clarification before back at Arthur.
“I give you one question, and you don’t ask about your men, your father, even your kingdom? You ask about your servant?”
“Is my servant still alive?” Arthur repeated.
Flashes from the battle were returning to him and he remembered Merlin dropped by a blow to the head from a soldier who’d come up behind him. Arthur had finished off his attacker, but Merlin had been out cold. After checking he was still breathing, Arthur had thrown himself back into the fight with more ferocity than before.
Cenred looked at his men. Of course he didn’t know the answer. He not only had no idea who Merlin was, he also hadn’t been at the fight, content to let his men do his work for him.
One of the guards shrugged. “We didn’t waste time finishing off anyone once we had the boy,” he said. “If he was alive when we left, no reason he’d not be now.”
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. Then a smile curled the corners of his mouth.
“Does Camelot really value its servants that highly?” Cenred asked, confused.
But before Arthur could answer, the very ground shook. The guards stumbled, Cenred sat down hastily on his chair. But chained as he was, Arthur didn’t waver.
“You two, go and find out what that was.”
Two guards hurried out. They left the door to the dungeon open in their haste and Arthur could hear shouts of alarm and calls for reinforcement. It sounded like there was an entire invading army suddenly inside the walls.
But Arthur knew better. They’d left the wrong person alive back in that clearing if they wanted to get away with it.
As the cries grew louder and Cenred started to lose his unruffled expression, Arthur began laughing.
