[Reposted because ffnet hates me.]

A/N - Thank you to ThePrinceHasArrived for being my first reviewer! I hope this one satisfies your whump addiction for today!

No. 2 – Kidnapped

"I just don't see why you had to kill it," Merlin was complaining. "You already caught the pheasants. You could have left the poor rabbit alone."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Every bloody time they went hunting.

"The whole point of hunting, Merlin, is to kill things that can be taken to the kitchens for dinner." He reached back to pat the pheasants and rabbit that were strapped to the back of his saddle. It had been a very successful couple of hours.

"And two pheasants aren't enough for dinner?" Merlin demanded. He tutted, shaking his head. "No wonder you're getting so fat."

"I am not fat!" Arthur shouted, whirling around in his saddle to face Merlin. If only their horses were just a little closer together he could reach to push Merlin off, but instead he had to settle with a snarl and a glare.

"Tell that to the pair of too small breeches I had to throw away just last week," Merlin carried on, that stupid smirk on his face. But Arthur wasn't listening to him anymore; he'd heard a sound in the undergrowth off to the side of the path they were travelling. It hadn't sounded like an animal.

"Shut up!" Arthur snapped, his head jerking around to try and catch the sound again.

"Just because I'm saying things you don't want-"

"Merlin." Arthur held his hand up, craning his neck, his eyes scanning the forest. Merlin stopped abruptly, following Arthur's lead and peering into the trees.

Piercing pain erupted in Arthur's chest and neck as a crossbow bolt appeared in his shoulder. He cried out and suddenly they were surrounded by men.

Before Merlin had time to even open his mouth to do anything a large man hit him hard over the back of the head. Merlin dropped from his horse like a ragdoll, falling in a heap on the forest floor. His horse skittered away, its eyes wide with fear.

Arthur was dragged down off his own horse, strong arms circling his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. He struggled, kicking back against the shins of his captor. A cloth was pressed roughly against his face, his eyes watering at the force it hit his nose. It smelled strongly of herbs. Something about the smell of the herbs made Arthur think of the sleeping potions Gaius made for Morgana. He found himself getting dizzy.

His knees buckled and the arms holding him let go, letting him fall to the ground. His head swam, sending him pitching forwards when he tried to get back to his feet. Agony seared through his shoulder as the crossbow bolt shifted against the ground. Rough dry leaves scratched his face. He tried to crawl forwards but his arms were heavy and unresponsive.

He could see Merlin through the legs of the men surrounding him. Just lying there, eyes closed and mouth open slightly, blood trickling from under his hair above his ear. Arthur opened his mouth to shout to him but all that came out was a slurred mumble.

"M'lin…"

Weakly, his fingers scrabbled for the hilt of his sword. A heavy boot slammed into his side, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending black spots dancing across his vision. The sword was snatched from his belt, the metal singing as it slid along the chainmail at his waist. It was followed by another kick. He gasped and choked for air.

"Watch it!" a harsh voice shouted above him. "We don't want him too battered."

"You might not, I'd happily see that pretty face smashed to a pulp."

"We won't be able to get a full ransom if he's unrecognisable," the first voice spat.

Arthur would have laughed if he could. They were kidnapping him for a ransom. How bloody ridiculous.

Of course, his father would be furious, absolutely bloody apoplectic when he found out not only had someone hurt his son, but that his son had been stupid enough to let himself get kidnapped. At least the likelihood of them killing him was reduced.

"It's definitely him, in'it?" a third voice asked.

Fingers grasped Arthur's hair and pulled him into a kneeling position, yanking his head up. The crossbow wound burned. Three burly men with hoods pulled low and scarves covering their faces swam before his vision.

"Looks like him," the one that had said he'd like to smash Arthur's face to pulp said.

Another hand grabbed his arm, pulling it painfully backwards and ripping his glove off. They all peered at the ring on his finger. The Pendragon crest.

"Yup, Crown Prince."

"Good. Break it," the man with the harsh voice, who seemed to be the leader, said with casual indifference.

Arthur's finger was wrenched sharply backwards, cracking as force was applied to his knuckle. He yelped, the pain cutting through the fog in his head. His mind seemed a little clearer and he struggled to focus on an escape plan. With his non-injured hand he reached for the dagger in his boot, quickly slashing forwards with no finesse, but still catching one man across the face.

His mask fell away and blood spurted from his cheek. He roared and gave Arthur a backhanded whack across the jaw which almost sent him to the floor again. He gave another feeble jab with his dagger before it was snatched from his hand.

His arms were yanked behind his back and the herby smelling cloth was pressed to his face again. He fought to hold his breath, to not let the sedative in, but a thump between his shoulder blades had him sucking in a gasp. Eyes rolling up into his head, he stopped fighting and sagged back down.

"Load him up," the leader said, ignoring the whinging of the man with the cut on his face.

The other man, the biggest of the three with muscles like iron, easily hoisted Arthur up and slung him across the front of his saddle. The pain seared across Arthur's shoulder and down his chest. He groaned, fighting to keep conscious.

"What about-?" The big man gestured towards Merlin, still unconscious and bleeding on the ground.

The leader turned and regarded the sorry heap that was Merlin then shrugged. He mounted the horse behind Arthur, his knees jabbing into Arthur's side.

"Leave him, looks near dead anyway."

"M'lin," Arthur tried again, but his voice was even weaker this time, hardly any sound passed through his lips, only the slick wetness of blood.

The horse was kicked into a trot and Arthur watched hopelessly as he was ridden away from Merlin. He didn't know if it was just the jostle of the horse's movement sending pain to confuse his already addled brain, or if he'd just seen Merlin's hand move.

Before he could decide, the horse broke into a canter and Arthur passed out.

A/N - Just a quick note for this one and all my future fics; I do NOT write non-canon deathfics. No one will ever die in my stories (well, good characters anyway, baddies die all this time - down with the bandits!) So have no fear for Merlin, he'll be fine!