A/N - Good evening! Second one for today, also a short one I'm afraid.

Thank you to RachelLittle201 for favouriting and to GuestM and padfootl0ve for the lovely reviews again!

Nice little bit of Gwaine whump this time - my muse seems to like hurting him (not quite as much as Merlin or Arthur though...!)

No. 14 – Branding / Fire

Sweat was pouring down Gwaine's face. It was unbearably hot. Fires circled the room, if you could call it a room; it seemed more like a cave. Firelight flickered off the brown walls, the heat radiating back from the packed earth. A foot wide trench along the far wall was filled with burning coals, glowing red at the edges fading into brilliant bright white at the centre.

At first Gwaine had been thankful when the men had removed his tunic, it had been stifling, trapping more heat against his skin. But now he wished for it back, some protection from the heat of the flames. The hot metal of his necklace was stinging his neck.

He heard screaming from elsewhere in the caves, most likely other prisoners like him. Footsteps heralded the approach of an angry looking thug, his hands wrapped in thick cloths. He thumped one hand into the other, menacingly.

Gwaine looked up through his hair, glaring at the thug standing over him. He tugged at the ropes holding his hands behind his back.

"What do you want with me?" he spat.

"Selling you as a slave," the thug said with a grin.

"A slave!" Gwaine swore, trying to kick the man.

"For the fighting pits."

He stopped kicking. He should've known. He'd been in fighting rings before, living by the sword. He closed his eyes.

"Oi, you two."

Gwaine looked up as the thug called two more men into the room.

"Having a party are we?" Gwaine sneered, trying to flip his hair, but it was stuck to his face with sweat.

"All slaves gotta be branded for their use," the first thug said, poking about in the trench of hot coals at the other side of the cave. He drew a long iron rod; the shape at the end was bright glowing red. Gwaine scrabbled backwards, his tied hands frantically clawing at the dirt floor beneath him.

"Hold 'im down!" the thug grunted.

The two men advanced on either side of Gwaine. He thrashed and kicked at them, but they grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Get off! Get off me!" He pulled at the ropes but achieved nothing except making his wrists burn. He writhed, trying to dig his heels into the solid earth to give himself leverage. He fought for all he was worth against the men holding him as the third man took a step forwards with the red hot brand.

"This one's a fighter, ain't 'e. Put my money on 'im once 'e's down in them pits," the one holding Gwaine's right shoulder said, chuckling. Gwaine arched his back, wrenching his shoulder from the man's grip and head-butting him as hard as he could.

Pain exploded in his forehead and black dots danced before his eyes but at least the other man fell backwards, blood pouring from his nose.

"You'll pay for that!" the man screamed.

The big thug whistled and two more men ran into the room.

"Hold 'im."

This time Gwaine couldn't break free. Each arm and both legs were being pinned to the floor, the four men using all of their weight. Gwaine couldn't move. His hands were crushed beneath his back, which was being forced into the ground.

The man with the hot iron moved closer. Gwaine's eyes fell on the brand, his breath coming out in harsh pants. It was a pair of crossed swords.

His heart was pounding in his chest, terror ringing in his ears.

He tried to pull as far away from the heat radiating from the brand as he could. The thug moved so slowly then jabbed forward.

The scream tore from him unbidden as the brand touched his skin. Burning, searing pain blazed across his chest. The smell of burning flesh clouded his senses. The hissing sound of his skin cooking.

The brand was held in place longer than necessary, the thug clearly enjoying the agony he was inflicting. Gwaine couldn't help crying out, swearing and screaming, tears pouring from his squeezed closed eyes.

There was a nasty ripping sensation as the brand was pulled away, but the pain didn't leave with it. The pain seemed to increase as the hot air ghosted across the blistered skin.

Gwaine collapsed as the four men holding him let go. One kicked him in the side as they moved away. Probably the one with the broken nose. Gwaine couldn't tell. He couldn't see. The white hot agony had filled his head until nothing else existed.

He tried to curl in on himself, tried to twist away from the pain.

He welcomed the blackness as it pulled him under.

A/N - Sorry, Gwainey!