A/N: I mean, if I'm being honest, the plot is a loosely contrived reason to hurt Arthur. Enjoy the results of a semester and a half of college stress. This story is set sometime after Gwaine but before The Crystal Cave.

"Why can't we just go home?" Merlin asked.

Arthur trudged through the underbrush, hefting his crossbow higher. "We're hunting, Merlin, and we haven't found anything yet."

"I think we need to turn back." Merlin's voice was tight.

Arthur turned. "Don't be such a girl's petticoat."

Pain slammed into Arthur's leg. A cry burst out of his mouth. He stumbled, his face draining. He glanced down. A crossbow bolt stuck out of his upper leg.

Shouts burst out in the trees surrounding them. A large group of bandits charged them. Arthur fired his crossbow, downing one man, then dropped the crossbow.

Merlin handed him his sword. Arthur brandished it, blinking away the spots suddenly dotting his vision. Warm blood ran down his leg. He had to push through it or they were both dead.

The bandits reached him. Arthur's arms shook as he blocked the strike. He stumbled back. Merlin's back braced him up.

Another bandit kicked Arthur's leg. Blinding pain flashed through him. He collapsed, his sword falling from nerveless fingers.


Ropes tightened around Arthur's wrists. Several pairs of hands pinned his shoulders to the forest floor, trapping his arms between his back and the ground. His right pants leg was ripped open, exposing his wound.

"Make sure he can't move," a strange man ordered.

Arthur dragged his eyes open. An unfamiliar man loomed over him with a knife blade glowing orange. The man pressed the blade to Arthur's leg. Hot pain burned through him. He let out a raspy scream.

"Oh, shut up, princeling," the man snapped, pulling the knife away. "I'm saving your life." He snapped his fingers. "Tie him to the tree."

The bandits dragged Arthur back, wrapping a rope around his shoulders and a tree to his back. He glanced down. Blood soaked his entire right pants leg, even squelching in his boot a bit. His head spun.

"You were bleeding out," Merlin said quietly.

Arthur glanced over. Merlin was tied next to him. He was pale and his eyes were slightly red.

"Are…" Heaviness pressed into Arthur's head. He pressed through. "Are you okay?"

"They didn't want to believe me when I said you were dying," Merlin said. "You were bleeding out right in front of me and I couldn't do anything."

Arthur held back a wince. Merlin's eyes echoed the pain in Father's eyes when Arthur had woken up from the Questing Beast injury, and sometimes in Gaius's eyes after battle injury scares. Arthur never knew what to do with that pain. "I'm all right." He rested his spinning head against the tree. "Have they said what they wanted?"

"I think they might be taking us to someone," Merlin said. "I'm not sure who, though."

"Shut it, both of you," the man that had cauterized Arthur's wound said.

Arthur didn't have the energy to protest, his blood loss pulling him down into sleep.


"Arthur." A cold hand patted his cheek. "Arthur, you need to wake up."

Arthur forced himself to wake. Merlin knelt in front of him. He frowned. "How did you get loose?"

Merlin held a canteen to his lips. "They let me loose."

Arthur drank deeply.

"All right, that's enough," the bandit leader said. "Get him up."

One of the bandits pulled Merlin away. Two more cut the ropes holding Arthur to the tree and hauled him to his feet.

Pain stabbed through Arthur's leg. He gritted his teeth as his leg crumpled.

The bandit leader pulled a horse forward. "Up you get, princeling."

The bandits hauled Arthur onto the horse. His spinning head prevented the struggle he wanted to put up. The bandit leader climbed onto the horse behind Arthur.

Merlin was put on another horse in front of another bandit. The others mounted and they rode off. The pain of the horse's stride jolted Arthur into darkness.


Arthur spent most of the trip in a haze. The bandits never untied his hands, forcing Merlin to give him drink. He was never fed. Without food, his blood loss kept him from even contemplating escape. He could barely even stay awake. He was only vaguely aware of being carried through a castle courtyard and down into the dungeons.


A bitter liquid filled Arthur's throat. He reflexively swallowed to keep himself from choking. His muscles tensed. Forced sharpness brought him awareness, dragging his eyes open.

An unfamiliar man lounged on an unfamiliar throne. Though he was dressed in fine clothes, his rough beard, his stained teeth, and his demeanor bespoke more of a bandit pretending at kingship than an actual king.

Two guards pinned Arthur on his knees in front of the throne. Merlin was pinned next to him with one guard. Both of them had been shackled with their hands in front of them, but for some reason Merlin's shackles had runes on them.

A tall, thin man with a beaked nose stepped to the wall of the hall they knelt in, corking a small, mostly empty glass bottle.

"Prince Arthur," the man on the throne drawled. "So nice to finally meet you."

"Can't say I feel likewise." Despite the potion forced on him, weakness still threaded through Arthur's voice. Haziness threatened to spin through his head.

The man on the throne leaned forward, staring at Merlin. "How are you?" he asked, his voice oddly gentle. "Is the food to your liking?"

The guard pinning Merlin down spoke up. "He won't eat unless we let him feed the prince."

Arthur frowned. They had been feeding Merlin?

The man on the throne frowned as well. "But you don't have to serve others anymore. You don't have to be a toady to a stuck-up noble anymore! You're in the Kingdom of the Lesser now. You can decide your own destiny!"

"He is my destiny," Merlin said, his voice filled with ice.

The man shrugged. "I'm sure with time in our cells, you'll come around." He gestured.

The guard picked up Merlin and hauled him out hollering.

The man turned to Arthur, his icy blue gaze chilling his blood. He stood up and paced in front of Arthur. "I am King Lethervale of the Kingdom of the Lesser, where the aristocratic and noble ilk are forced to learn their place. I am glad to have you here for lessons, Arthur Pendragon. Your father has been among the worst in throwing his title around, and I'd hate to see you rule like him. Therefore, you will learn your true place among us, and…" He stopped and ripped the ring Arthur never removed from his finger. "Help us along the way."

Arthur's heart thudded. He curled his hands into fists. "Give that back! That's my mother's ring, I never take it off!"

"Then your father will undoubtedly believe we have you and send a ransom," Lethervale said, pocketing the ring. "But just in case…" He pulled a dagger from his belt and sliced off a lock of Arthur's hair.

"Hey!" Arthur burst out. It was better than a finger or something, but he still didn't want anyone cutting his hair without his permission.

At least a ransom meant he would be freed eventually.

Lethervale pocketed the lock of hair and sheathed his dagger. "It's time for you to start learning that lesson. Get him up, feed him, and put him to work."

Work? Arthur's head spun. His legs buckled as the guards hauled him up. He could barely stand up, how could he do any work?