A/N: So I'm not done with the original fiction piece that I went on hiatus for, but I am struggling with a chapter, so I wrote this since it was taking up head space. This may happen sporadically over the next week or two.
Oh, and this is AU. VERY AU.
. . .
Arthur curled up in the cage. He finally given up on pacing. His paws were raw from pressing into the silver wire, and there wasn't enough room to pace properly anyway.
The knights would come soon, he promised himself. It would be embarrassing when they realized he'd been caught by human slavers, but anything was better than this.
. . .
The new cage was even smaller. He couldn't stand, much less pace. The silver was starting to burn through his fur.
His stomach was empty enough that even the drugged meat they kept offering was starting to look appealing.
At least, he assumed it was drugged. They'd drenched the cage in so many harsh scents that he wasn't sure he could smell a bloodsucker if one was right in front of him. The spices burned his nose with every breath. It took all he had not to whine at the pain.
He was beta to the pack and heir to the kingdom. He was the son of Uther Throatripper, the wolfking that had reduced the bloodlickers to a few cringing remnants. He would not give the slavers the satisfaction of hearing him whimper as some of the other prisoners did.
He tried to talk to the other prisoners at first. Tried to help, to reassure. They weren't alone. There was a wolfbrother here. Sooner or later, one of their packs would come.
The slavers beat them all until the only sounds were faint whimpers.
. . .
There hadn't been any drugged meat for a long time. There hadn't been any water either. Or light.
Something had happened to the slavers, Arthur realized dimly. Something had happened, and now no one knew where they were.
The whimpers had quieted. The humans first, and then the other wolves. Spice wasn't the only stench in his nose now.
The magic was strongest in him. He would last the longest.
One quiet whimper broke the quiet. He wasn't alone yet after all.
He yipped softly to reassure the younger wolf. There's someone else here, the noise promised. It'll be alright.
He wished he could transform and talk properly. He wished his throat wasn't so parched. He wished he had the strength to break out and set them all free.
He wished that whimper hadn't been the last sound he heard that wasn't made by himself.
. . .
The door creaked open.
Not real, he thought dully. It couldn't be real.
A sliver of moonlight had fallen onto the floor. A pale boy slipped in. Arthur couldn't catch his scent, but he was too thin to be a wolf-brother. Human, then.
The boy gagged at the smell. "Will?" he called in a choked whisper.
Maybe real after all. Why would his mind conjure up a rescuer not even meant for him?
The boy went from cage to cage. He froze by one and bent his head. Half-formed sobs ripped from his throat.
Arthur finally worked up the strength to make a noise.
