A little something for all the whump!Arthur fans out there! ^_^

I own nothing.

In The Forest

Merlin ran, his own breath loud in his ears.

Arthur's red cloak filled his vision as the prince swerved in front of him and matched his pace. The forest was pressing in around them. Arthur's cloak snagged on the sharp branches of a withered tree and he fumbled to tear it from his shoulders. Merlin tried, for the hundredth time, to summon forth his magic and break the branches that held Arthur but as he knew would happen, nothing came. Merlin forced himself to calm down. Ulfric the Warlock's spell still worked on him, and until it was lifted Merlin could feel his magic locked within himself as if in an iron box.

"Merlin!" hissed Arthur, sawing at the branches with his sword and pulling Merlin from his worrying. He hurried forward and applied his strength as well. Merlin's eyes met Arthur's, and each saw the worry in the others face.

Together, Arthur and Merlin snapped the branches holding them in and continued to run, their attackers close behind.

Arthur's yell made birds fly wildly from the trees. He stumbled against Merlin, his panting breath hot on Merlin's neck as they almost fell. Merlin twisted around and, grasping Arthur under the arms dragged him behind a tree as quickly as possible. Arthur had managed to keep a grip on his sword, but found a short dagger lodged in his right thigh and blood already seeping out to stain his leggings.

"Arthur, here, keep pressure on this," Merlin said quickly, taking his own bloodstained hands away from Arthur's leg and ripping a length of fabric from the edge of his coat. Arthur groaned and tilted his head back to rest against the tree trunk.

"Sorry Merlin," he said, closing his eyes.

Merlin looked up from wrapping the cloth around Arthur's leg. "For what?" he asked.

Arthur would never admit it, but the boundless trust in Merlin's eyes almost finished him. He turned his face away and tried to master the fear in his chest.

"For dragging you into this. For everything, really."

Merlin rolled his eyes and smiled, a wonderful big smile that didn't blame Arthur for anything.

"You're such an idiot" he murmured, holding out a hand to help Arthur stand up.

Merlin and Arthur had barely taken a dozen steps however, when three of the bandits burst through the bushes and caught sight of them.

"'Ere!" yelled one, signaling wildly to the others. Arthur silenced him quickly with a blow to the head with the pommel of his sword. The man fell to the forest floor and held his head, groaning.

Merlin and Arthur turned to run again, only to find themselves facing another three men. One of them grabbed in Merlin's direction but was left with a fistful of air when Merlin suddenly ducked and threw himself instead at the man's legs, tumbling them both over. The bandit fell heavily, cursing and flailing, but he had also successfully separated Merlin from Arthur, who swayed unsteadily on his injured leg. His leg threatened to fold dangerously as he backed into the trees under the attack of his enemies, warding blows but now failing to deliver any. Merlin tried to get up but was immediately tackled by two other bandits. Arthur's blows were losing power, and his face grew whiter as more blood seeped down his leg. Merlin struggled against the two men holding him and tried desperately to reach Arthur, but without the aid of his magic he was powerless.

Finally, Arthur was surrounded by more men than he could fight. Six of the bandits closed in around him while several others hung back, unwilling to test the wounded prince. Arthur pressed his hand to his thigh, trying to staunch the bleeding but he could already feel the blood loss taking hold of him. Two of the bandits stepped forward to finish him but were rebuffed by Arthur's desperate lunge and stepped back with bleeding arms. Their eyes narrowed, and summoning several of their fellows, they closed in around Arthur. He was able to parry the first few blows, but one of the men got a low shot in and clubbed his injured leg with the flat of a blade. Arthur went down immediately, dropping his sword and roaring with pain. The men closed around him, and two of them twisted his wrists behind him and hauled him to his feet.

"Prince Arthur, at last" came a voice from the trees.

A man sat atop a grey horse, watching the bandits disarm Arthur. He swung down from the horse and approached, removing his riding gloves to reveal thick fingers adorned with a heavy ring.

Merlin recognized the sigil carved on the thick and clumsy ring.

"The Fenlands Kingdom" he whispered. The man looked appraisingly in Merlin's direction and nodded.

"Your friend recognizes my house," he said, drawing nearer to Arthur. "And rightly he should, for my people long precede the Pendragon usurpers and their kind."

Arthur lifted his head and straightened his back.

"Sir Regarian of the fenlands. Camelot has no quarrel with you," he said steadily, his eyes fixed on the man's face. "Your kingdom in the north is sizable and wealthy; you have no reason to covet Camelot's lands."

Regarian's face grew dark with fury. "Sizeable and wealthy it may be, but it is only a fraction of the land my forbearers held before Uther Pendragon sullied the land with his lust for power.

Arthur struggled to keep his face blank. He knew his father's faults, even if he didn't know everything about Uther's rise to power. A dark voice in the back of his head wondered if the man in front of him told the truth. He tried not to let his doubt show in his eyes, but the dizziness he felt from the blood loss made keeping a straight face harder.

"Uther will answer to me, now," said Regarian imperiously. "He will not abandon his only son, of that I am sure."

Merlin's heart pounded in his chest.

Ragarian urged his horse forward. "Bind them," he called, "Then, we head for safer territory."

Regarian's men started to take Arthur's armor off. The Prince struggled wildly, giving one man a broken nose and several others deep scratches. The leader, displeased that a prisoner could make fools of his men, signaled to several of the ones standing guard to join them.

They hit Arthur until he couldn't stand up anymore. When he was finally lying prone in the dust they dragged the prince's limp form over to the leader and dumped him on the ground. Arthur tried to get up, but his injured leg gave out immediately and the bruises on his stomach protested dully

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn snsns

The day's march was finally over. When night fell the bandits led their prisoners over to a small clearing in the woods and prepared to make camp. Two of the bandits pushed Arthur against a tree and tied his arms securely behind him. Arthur's struggles were weak, but the fire in his eyes still blazed angrily at the men.

Merlin was half out of his mind with panic. With the dampening spell still working on him he knew that he had no way of helping Arthur if the need should arise. He tried as hard as he could to keep his face from betraying the worry he felt. One of the bandits tied Merlin to a tree a few feet away from Arthur. He could see by the way Arthur's chest rose and fell unevenly that the prince was exhausted, and the stab wound in his leg had taken its toll on his strength. Merlin knew that the march through the forest wouldn't last forever and that someone who wanted to question Arthur waited for them. He tried to put this uneasy thought out of his mind for the moment.

The men milled around, making camp and getting a fire going. Merlin tried to get Arthur's attention but the prince's head had fallen forward onto his chest.

"Arthur!" hissed Merlin, worriedly.

Arthur stirred briefly and pulled his head up slowly. In the gathering dusk the clear blue of his eyes had turned gray. Merlin swallowed. He knew they were in deep trouble. If ever there should come a day when Arthur couldn't lift his head to answer his call again...Merlin knew he wouldn't be able to bear that.

As he awoke, Arthur grimaced. "Merlin, remind me how we got into this mess," he sighed.

Merlin rolled his eyes. Typical Arthur.

"By not listening to me, you clothpole," Merlin said quietly, smiling at Arthur to try and lighten the prince's mood. Arthur laughed quietly.

"If anyone's the clothpole here, Merlin," he whispered, "it is definitely you!"

Merlin grinned to himself. He was so grateful to Arthur for trying to keep their spirits up. The bandits roved at the edges of his vision, never quite out of sight, or out of mind. But being with Arthur helped, more than Merlin could ever say.

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

The fire's embers leapt into the darkness beyond Arthur and Merlin. The bandits had eaten their dinner and were now discussing amongst themselves, their heads close and their faces angry. Merlin watched them, refusing to sleep. Arthur's head had sunk to his chest again, but Merlin couldn't tell if he was asleep or simply alone with his thoughts.

A great movement disrupted Merlin's thoughts. The bandits had gotten up, and were approaching the two trees where Merlin and Arthur were tied.

"Arthur"! hissed Merlin urgently. "Arthur, wake up!" Merlin tugged at his bound wrists uselessly.

One of the bandits, upon approaching Arthur, crouched in front of him and without warning, backhanded the prince across the face. Arthur woke with a start and made a pained sound. He struggled to sit up straighter, but with his arms bound tightly behind him it was difficult.

"We've some questions for you, prince" the man leered. "And you're goin' to answer 'em."

Merlin's heart leapt with rage. Arthur was backed against the tree, helpless and unable to defend himself. Merlin tried harder than ever to slip the ropes around his wrists as the bandit continued to speak.

"Uther's inner chamber, where is it in the castle?" He laughed coarsely, "We need to deliver news of his son's capture."

Arthur kept his face blank. His lips were set tightly together but Merlin could see the red mark on his face where he'd been hit. The bandit's face turned ugly as Arthur stayed silent.

"I'll give you one last chance, prince" the man snarled, "tell us where the the chamber is and we'll let you and your friend go free."

Arthur's eyes flicked towards Merlin for just a second, but in that second Merlin could see the I'm so sorry in Arthur's eyes. Merlin held his breath.

When Arthur continued to not answer, the bandit walked over to the fire and pulled something out from behind the burning logs with his hands wrapped in cloth. When he straightened up he held a red-hot, glowing sword in his hands. Arthur's face tightened. The man approached him, holding the sword out as if to give Arthur a good look at what awaited him. The air around the blade shimmered with heat.

"I'll ask you again," the man breathed, "where is the inner chamber?"

Arthur turned his face up towards the bandit. In the darkness, with only the red flames to illuminate the clearing, Arthur's eyes blazed and the paleness of his face stood out with ghostly intensity.

"You can ask till you're blue in the face" he said quietly, "I will never betray my father or Camelot."

The bandit closed his eyes and smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that, m'lord."

Slowly, excruciatingly, he pressed the hot blade against Arthur's chest.

Merlin's wrists were raw from rubbing against the ropes as he struggled madly. Arthur screamed again, this time through gritted teeth. His chest and arms were covered with angry burn marks. Tear tracks ran down his face, cutting through the dirt and blood.

"You could make this easier on yourself, your highness", the bandit said quietly, grasping Arthur's chin and forcing his head up.

"N-n-no," Arthur gasped through clenched teeth, his chest hitching with agony, "w-won't . . ."

The man pressed the red-hot sword against Arthur's neck. Arthur let out a half-scream half-sob and tried in vain to pull his neck away from the burning sword, but he was tied too tightly and the man's grasp on his head was inescapable. When the blade was pulled away he slumped against the tree, his breath coming in agonized spurts. The bandit stepped back and admired his handiwork, the others making appreciative noises in the hazy gloom beyond Arthur's vision.

Merlin's eyes were swimming in tears, but he kept his face hidden so that the men wouldn't see. He would have given his life for Arthur's then if he could, but even hours of shouting insults at the men and hoping they would be distracted hadn't gotten their attention.

Finally Arthur's cries faded into silence.

The bandits retired for the night, their snores soon filling the chill air. Merlin's ears were still ringing with the sound of Arthur's screams. He looked over to the prince, but the darkness obscured his vision. The only light came from the smoldering embers of the fire. The abandoned sword lay close to them, its blade cooling in the night air.

Arthur wasn't unconscious though. His half-closed eyes reflected the glowing embers of the fire and his legs moved uneasily. After a few minutes of trying to get into a more comfortable position he gave up and sat with his back hard against the tree trunk.

"Arthur?" whispered Merlin.

There was no response.

"Arthur!"