A/N - I'm terribly sorry for the long wait! Thank you so much for being patient and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter :) Hopefully I'll be able to update regularly now >.<

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Arthur trudges slowly behind the pair of kings, tuning out Alden's voice as he leads them down the main path of the city. As Alden had promised a week earlier, he's giving them a tour of the arena before the start of the tournament. However, aside from Uther, neither the prince nor Morgana are interested. Uther walks right alongside Alden as they make their way to the circular arena, listening intently to his old friend as Alden explains how the arena had been built. Morgana, from what Arthur can see, appears to be preoccupied with something else. She keeps mumbling to herself, sending suspicious glances towards Alden as she walks beside Arthur. The prince had tried a number of times to get the witch's attention, however, she never heard him, always thinking of something else. 

With a resigned sigh Arthur glances around at his surroundings, deciding that if they were all going to ignore him than he might as well do the same. The sun is up today, shining down brightly upon the buildings that surround them. Most of the townsfolk have their eyes on the royals, whispering excitedly amongst themselves as they watch their king pass. There seems to be much more people than usual today, making the town feel even more crowded as they weave through the streets. He supposes many visitors have come far and wide to watch the Tournament tomorrow. After all there's even a feast tonight to celebrate. 

Arthur frowns at the thought of the feast. He didn't want to go. Especially not when Alden is the one hosting the event. He knows that all he'll hear during the meal is talk of the Tournament, of bets and wagers as they pit sorcerer against sorcerer. No doubt they'll ask him to place his bets as well, wanting to know who the foreign prince thinks will win. Maybe he can sneak away before the feast. Feign an illness and stay in his chambers. 

Arthur heaves another sigh, wondering what he could do when Merlin's tavern catches his eye. He turns to find it  closed, not much of a surprise. The warlock's been quiet for the last few days, not willing to do much of anything other than spar. He still invites Arthur in with a welcoming smile, however he hasn't seen Merlin open the tavern to others for the past two days. Arthur knows there's something bothering him. There has to be. But Merlin always chooses to keep to himself, not willing to share much. Arthur suspects that his foul mood has something to do with the Tournament. Merlin's a warlock after all. It would be everyone's first guess. However, as to what in particular the prince can't be sure. For a brief moment he feels the urge to run over, to knock on the door so he can see Merlin's smiling face once again. However, before he gets the chance, he hears Uther calling him over and he has no choice but to walk away. 

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"And welcome," Alden says with his arms spread wide, "to the arena!"

Arthur stares with wide eyes at the stadium, turning in place as he gazes in awe at the rows upon rows of seats that surround him. King Alden had taken them up to the royal seats where two large thrones and two smaller ones await in a boxed out area, separated from the rest of the crowd. The spot provided the perfect view of the entire stadium below, allowing the occupants to see everything that happened within the ring.

From Arthur's place up top he's able to look down at the men and women training below. He finds practice dummies cluttered around one edge where a few warriors are training. They hack and slash away at the straw, cutting it into tiny pieces before turning around and facing another. Others near the centre of the arena spar with one another using shields, swords, axes, maces, or any other weapon Arthur can think of. Some of the fighters are better than others, being able to knock down their fellow warriors with one slash of their weapon while others can barely stand under the weight of their armour. The scene is reminiscent of one he sees on the training grounds in Camelot frequently except for two major differences. One is the large number of guards that surround the edges of the arena, both above as well as below, and the gates leading inside. The guards in the stadium stand as still as statues, watching the people inside train while they keep their hands on their swords. Archers patrol up high, their bows at the ready as they watch closely. The other major difference is the use of magic. He can see the fighters fly across the ground without so much as a kick. He sees fire conjured in the palms of sorcerers before being sent towards an opponent. Arthur finds himself watching the sorcerers fight, studying their movements, learning how they work. He's intrigued at their abilities, about how they're able to cast spells while in the middle of combat, however before he loses himself in his own thoughts he feels Morgana grasp his wrist.

Arthur looks over, seeing the way she pales at the sight of the sorcerers. She seems to hide behind him, cowering at the people below. He sets a gentle hand on her back, trying to calm her down as he tugs her a little closer to him, wanting to make sure no one would harm her. "Is something wrong?" he asks in a whisper, keeping his eyes focused on the arena below.

Morgana glances over to where Uther stands with Alden, the latter pointing and gesturing with his hands as he explains more about how he established the Tournament. She turns back towards the arena below, staring at the guards who stand along the walls before taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves. "I'm fine. I was just... overwhelmed is all," she says, though judging from her expression Arthur doubts she's fine. However, he doesn't pry, knowing that she would tell him when she's ready.

"Come this way," Alden says, gesturing to the pair as he and Uther make their way down the steps, "there is still plenty to see."

Alden leads the group down the stairs, gesturing and pointing on their way down at the various engravings on the walls. Once they reach the bottom the king leads them towards the arena. Arthur doesn't fail to notice the way all the sorcerers stop when the king enters, turning to look at them with blank eyes before giving a reluctant bow. Alden smiles at them all, waving a hand for the sorcerers to return to training however the prince is able to see through the King's smile. He sees the way Alden looks at them, as though they're a pet, something expendable.

Alden turns towards his guests as the sorcerers behind him return to their training. A few watch them out of the corners of their eyes as they walk past, however with a single look from the king they turn away, pretending not to notice. Alden looks to them all with a smile, "Welcome to the main arena! This is where all the fun happens," he says as he laughs at his own words and Arthur doesn't miss the way a few of the sorcerers look at him, like they wanted to strangle him. "I'm sure, as you can all see, when the Tournament isn't being hosted this is a training field for the contestants. They hone their skills here before testing themselves in the Tournament. Don't worry, Lady Morgana. No harm will come to you here." He sends her a wink before leading them through the arena.

Morgana shivers at the words before following, making sure to stay close to Arthur as they walk through the crowd. Now that he's down in the arena Arthur realizes just how many guards are posted. Upon his first inspection he finds that the guards outnumber the sorcerers at least four to one. Not only that, but all the guards are heavily armed. They have shields in one hand, a sword and whip on their belt, and spears in the other hand. All have their attention firmly planted on the sorcerers, watching each and every move closely. Alden hadn't been lying when he said there's no need to worry about the sorcerers. With this many guards no one would dare act out, especially if the guards have been trained to kill sorcerers.

Uther frowns as he follows behind his companion, sneering at each of the sorcerers that pass him by. "You allow them to roam about freely like this?" he asks.

Alden shrugs, a devilish smile on his face. "It keeps them... quiet I suppose you could say. If I keep them all locked away in cages they'll act out. Grow angry, impatient. Giving them some freedom helps keep them tame. Besides, they understand the consequences that come with disobeying."

"Consequences?" Morgana asks, voice barely audible over the clang of metal, "What do you mean?"

Alden, again, just smirks. "That, my lady, is something you don't wish to hear. Now come," he puts an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back towards the inside of the arena where the contestants prepare. "Allow me to show you the inside."

As Alden leads the group away Arthur finds himself lingering for a moment longer in the stadium. He stares at the sorcerers, watching them fight and train just as any other knight. They dress in chainmail, have swords sheathed to their belts, and helmets covering their heads. If none were using magic just a short distance away from him he would think they were the same as any old knights. Why do people fail to see that?

Arthur is about to turn to leave when he catches something out of the corner of his eye. A mark. A tattoo. He turns to look, squinting a little at the mark clearly visible along the sorceresses neck. The mark looked like that of a bear, its arms spread wide as though ready to tear its opponents to shreds. Now, that he looks closely, almost every sorcerer nearby has a black mark poking out from their chainmail. The girl, having clearly noticed his earlier staring, walks over to him, eyes narrowed. "What?" she demands.

Arthur takes a step back, holding both his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry I was just..." he can't find an excuse as the girl stares up into his eyes, her gaze menacing, wanting to kill. "I was curious about the mark on your neck," he says honestly, but almost the second the words come out he finds a dagger pointed towards his neck. The sorcerers around him all gasp in horror, staggering backwards as they turn to run, to hide from what must be bound to happen because within a heartbeat the guards surge forward, knocking the dagger from the girl's hand and manhandling her to the ground. A few of the guards pull Arthur back, bringing him to safety as both Alden and Uther come towards him.

"Arthur!" Uther calls, rushing over to his side, "are you hurt?"

The prince shakes his head, looking down to find the girl scowling at his feet and immediately he feels guilty. He wants to push the guards away and apologize for his behaviour. He had been insensitive and asked about a private matter. He was partially at fault. However, before he can act, Alden comes up to the girl, staring down at her with eyes that could kill. "Take her away. I shall deal with her personally for harming my guests," the king says and the guards nod, pulling the girl to her feet.

Just before the guards are able to drag her off Arthur reaches out, not caring that his father is watching, and stops them. "No, it's fine. I'm fine, there's no need to harm her," he says, looking down at the girl who stares up at him with curious eyes.

Alden turns to look at him and his eyes are cold, just for a brief moment, before they return to their usual cheer. "There's no need to feel any sympathy, boy. She's a sorcerer. Nothing more. She should have known better than to attack," Alden says with a smile.

Arthur doesn't get a chance to argue because his father, with a look of disappointment, quickly pulls him away, guiding him towards the inside of the arena where Morgana waits. However, the small look of gratitude sent his way by Morgana is enough to make him feel a little better about himself, but only just a little.

Once they're all within the walls of the arena the gate closes behind them, leaving the group alone once again save for a few guards. Arthur glances about, staring at the racks of weapons and armour as they wind their way through the inside, hoping to distract himself so he would stop thinking about the sorcerers. Their tour eventually leads them to an even lower level of the arena, one where even the light doesn't touch. With only one look around the prince can tell that whatever happens down here is meant to stay down here.

The ground is old and worn, nothing like the cleanly paved stone floor on the upper levels. A few torches light the length of the hall, but otherwise there's nothing to help see in the dark. No windows, no sunlight, no nothing. Uther glances around, eyebrow raised in question as Alden strides down the hall as though this were just another stop in the tour.

"What's down here?" Arthur asks, following behind the king as he tries to search for any clues that could point him towards an answer.

Alden grabs a torch from off the wall, using it to light the path ahead of them. The fire casts an eerie shadow along the man's face, causing shivers to run down the prince's spine as he follows behind, bracing himself for what could possibly be in the lower levels. "Sorcerers," Alden says, as though that were as obvious of an answer as potatoes, "this is where we keep the sorcerers who haven't been ah..." he waves a hand in front of him, trying to find the words, "...chosen. I suppose that's a nicer word."

Morgana swallows thickly, taking a deep breath through her nostrils as she composes herself for what is surely to come and Arthur does too, as he's able to guess what sort of scene will appear before him. The only problem is that it's worse. So much worse.

The moment Alden opens the door to the room Arthur is hit with the sight of rows upon rows of cages. They're littered across the otherwise barren room, leaving only a narrow path weaving between each one for guards to walk around. There must be around five or six people cramped into a single small cage, all with iron shackles on their arms and legs to keep them from running. They wear threadbare clothes which hang off their bodies as they hunch in the corners, watching with tired eyes as Alden strolls in as though everything is perfectly normal. Uther too, just stares with a satisfied smirk, as though he were amazed at the amount of sorcerers his fellow king had been able to capture.

"These are the sorcerers," Alden says, as though afraid his guests wouldn't be able to tell they were human which, Arthur supposes, Alden didn't. "They're our prized Tournament contenders. Though, as you can see they are clearly not fit to fight," he says with a laugh as he kicks the nearest one with his boot, making the poor girl shriek and Morgana almost surge forward with the intent to kill. However, Arthur holds out a hand, keeping her back as he silently shakes with his own anger and disgust.

"What is this all for?" Arthur asks, eyes narrowed, "I though you said they were allowed to roam freely?"

Alden just smirks at him, "Ah, but see that's only after they've been chosen. The sorcerers you saw training earlier are that ones that are... owned. They've been bought by a noble and trained to fight in the Tournament to win some gold, if they can survive that is. You can pick a sorcerer and send them in to compete as well. All that needs to be done to make it official is to brand them as yours."

"So they're slaves?" Morgana asks, tone accusing.

"I like to call them prisoners with jobs," Alden says with a smile. "The Tournament is in a few days time. If you'd like, Uther my old friend, feel free to pick a champion. It's most exciting to enter in your own contestant and watch them battle."

Uther laughs, smiling. "I appreciate the offer, however I doubt a few days will be enough to train anyone to be successful in a battle."

Alden laughs as well, clapping a hand on the back of the other king. "That is indeed true. My own champion needed to train at least a year before he could take down his first man."

As Uther begins to ask questions as to how Alden keeps the sorcerers locked away Arthur finds his mind drifting to something else. Or, to be more accurate, someone else. He stares at the neck of the sorcerers that sit inside the cages, eyes scanning, searching for the one thing that would help alleviate his fears, but of course he doesn't find it. Why would he? The king had spelled it out for him, clear as day. The sorcerers are captured, locked away here until they are bought by a noble. Once bought they are branded, marked as someone else's possession and forced to fight in the Tournament until they died.

Branded.

A mark.

A tattoo.

Merlin.

Arthur finds his breathing turning uneven as the truth dawns on him, his anger rising as he watches the kings smile and laugh at the sorcerers around them. Merlin had sat in one of these cages perhaps years and years ago, huddled in one of those corners, alone and afraid about both being chosen and not being chosen. Merlin had been bought, branded by some noble who wanted to watch him fight and die. Merlin had been here once and tomorrow he'll be here again, except this time to either fight or die. It's no surprise now that Merlin could beat him so easily. He had been trained to kill.

Arthur finds himself wanting to reach out, to grasp the kings by their neck and throw them into the cages, to treat them like the true monsters they are. At this moment Arthur forgets that Uther is his father, that both of the men in front of him are kings because right now all he sees are two monsters wearing the skin of a human.

He knows Morgana is tugging at his arm, trying to snap him from his sudden anger, but he ignores her quiet pleas. Instead, he reaches both hands out, watching them inch closer and closer to the kings that stand just a short distance in front of him, unknowing. It would be so easy to just do it, to just be rid of them right now. He could save the sorcerers, save Morgana, save Merlin. Yet, his arms drop at the last moment, returning to their usual position at his sides because he can't. He just can't.