Hello, how are you all? I hope you're all good. Sorry for the massive delays on this chapter, writing just fell to the bottom of my list of things to do.

On a better note, this story is now beta-ed by the wonderful VHunter07 so for once this chapter actually makes legible sense. Many thanks, and I hope you all enjoy it.

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"How did you sleep?" The serving boy's head shot up at the question. So many things about it were wrong. First, Arthur was inquiring about his general well being. Second, there was a cunning lilt to the words, as though he was plotting something. Merlin would recognise that tone from a mile away, and it instantly put him on the alert.

"Well enough. Did you sleep at all?" He tried to direct the conversation away from himself and onto Arthur. The bags under his hazy blue eyes spoke volumes. The prince sent him a knowing look, aware that he was dodging the aim of this encounter.

"Did you know, Merlin, that you speak in your sleep?" Very carefully, the blonde watched the warlock's reaction. Merlin's muscles locked tight, his breath caught in his throat, his eyes automatically flashed to the floor to hide the emotions pouring through him. He knew what dream had poured through his head in the night; it was his nightmare, his personal hell. It was
exactly the kind of thing that Arthur could never know.

"Really?" His voice was too high with stress, and noticeably worried.

"Yes," the prince said simply, then fell silent, enjoying watching his servant squirm under his gaze. When it became clear that Merlin wouldn't, or couldn't speak, he elaborated. "You were saying some very strange things."

"Like?"

"Like my name. A lot. Something about lying?" Merlin's eyes flashed to his face and away, the genuine fear there shocked the prince. He had assumed that whatever the boy had been dreaming about had been inconsequential, but it was obvious now that this was something important.

"I don't know what it could be, Sire," he lied valiantly. The prince saw through it in an instant.

"You don't call me 'Sire' unless you want something or you're lying. I highly doubt that you're using this opportunity to ask for a day off, so you must be lying. Come on, Merlin, you can tell me," he said with a grin. He received an acidic glare in response.

"Fine. I don't know what it could be, prat." He muttered. His face was flushed slightly under the pressure.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed. An amused smile crept onto his face despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. He didn't want his servant to know that he was actually enjoying this little exchange. "Are you going to tell me what you were dreaming about or not?"

"I'm not," Merlin confirmed, his voice like ice. Arthur's gaze darkened.

"Well, so long as you don't really believe that you need to protect me..." He taunted. It was something that he had gathered from the late night mutterings. Sure enough, Merlin's face glowed red with embarrassment.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to eavesdrop on people?" He demanded, chagrined.

"I am the prince, Merlin, I can do what I want," he reminded him. "Including listening to you prattle on. I always said that you never shut up. Now I have proof."

"You are such a clotpole sometimes!" His voice held only a fond exasperation. It was obvious that the prince hadn't heard anything too groundbreaking, thus relief was pumping strong through the warlock's system.

"You two amaze me," a new voice informed them, and the relief fled as Merlin recognised the newcomer as Ragley. Arthur stiffened, and leapt off the ground, rising and to put himself between their captor and his servant.

"You don't expect me to uphold my word?" The bandit inquired, eyeing the distance between
the prince and Merlin, intrigued.

"In truth? Not in the slightest. Kidnapping and torturing innocent people will do that." The prince spat. His nose wrinkled in disgust. Even if his current position of magic was confused there was no such vacillation regarding Ragley. He loathed this man. No matter the reasoning that he held, it was no excuse for what had been done to his servant...his friend. Ragley's face twisted into a mask of anger, and a black rage pooled in his eyes. The prince's muscles all simultaneously snapped taut as he braced himself to defend Merlin. However, the bandit made no move towards either of them, sending only a menacing glare in their direction.

"You should know that we have received word from your precious Camelot. They will pay your ransom," he looked meaningfully at the prince.

"I thought you told me that this was about sending a message. That money had nothing to do with it."

"It is not the money that will send the message. It is the way in which the transaction is handled that will speak to the world."The malicious gleam in the man's eyes had Merlin quaking on the ground. Something bad was going to happen, of that much he was certain.

"You said that they would pay my ransom," Arthur said, a thought occurring to him. "What about Merlin?"

"We have no interest in the boy. He has little worth to people like me; keep him." Ragley said offhandedly. The warlock let out a silent sigh of relief. For a moment he had been terrified that they wouldn't let him go. He wouldn't put it past them to kill him, just to spite Arthur. Merlin might have
accepted that he was more than likely going to die for the prince, but he'd hoped to at least see him as king first.

"What are you planning?" The warlock demanded, ignoring Arthur's glare to keep quiet. Ragley observed him curiously. "Any fool can see that you aren't planning on just letting us go. You admitted that this wasn't about money, so there is something else you're after. You want the king to suffer, and so you took Arthur. Give him back and you know that you'll be hunted down and slaughtered, and the king will never think of you again." As he spoke, Merlin recognised the truth in his words and the conclusion of his thoughts. "You want to spill Pendragon blood," he said suddenly. The feeling of truth filled him. "The message you send will be in the death of Uther."

"Give your servant a pat on the back!" Ragley said with a smile, knowing full well the state of the warlock's back. He enjoyed the sick joke. Arthur wasn't sure which man he wanted to glower at most. He really needed to teach Merlin when to shut up.

"So you intend to harm my father. What was your reason for taking me then?" he inquired, eyebrows rising.

"There is only one way I know of to... encourage our beloved king to leave his citadel. And that is his beloved son."

"The king himself is delivering your ransom?" Merlin asked in utter astonishment. The
bandit grinned victoriously.

"We were able to persuade him to do so. It would appear that he really does care about his own kin. I must admit, I was surprised," he taunted. Arthur had to resist the urge to start throwing punches, knowing full well Ragley was attempting to force him into doing something stupid enough to endanger Merlin.

"Well, this talk has been fascinating, but I must go. Kings to kill and all." Without another word the bandit swept from the tent. Slowly, the prince sank back to the floor, trying to stop his hands
trembling. Concern for his father overwhelmed him, fearful that Ragley would make good on his threat.

"Arthur." His name barely penetrated through his haze of terror. "Arthur. Listen to me!" Merlin was trying desperately to get his attention, but without being able to move, it was proving difficult. He gathered the energy he had built up over the last few hours and was able to half crawl, half drag
himself across the ground to his prince, where he proceeded to prod him in the arm.

Arthur jumped wildly, looking at him in shock. "Merlin! How did you get over here?"

"Through the magic of movement Arthur," Merlin deadpanned, struggling to regain the breath that he had used in moving.

"You shouldn't be doing anything at all, you idiot. You'll make your back worse!" As the prince spoke, he moved around his servant to survey the wounds on his back. They were still covered by the improvised bandages, but the cloth was dirty and in placed blood had begun to seep through. Peeling back one of the wraps, Arthur inspected the gash beneath it. He had to hold back a gasp of horror. All thoughts of his father and Camelot fled in that moment, as his mind centred directly on his servant. The wound was weeping profusely, and the flesh was a vicious red. The very edges of the gash were a slight bluish grey, as though the tissue had died. It looked horrendous. Arthur had seen seasoned knights and soldiers die from far less.

Merlin, for his part, was now struggling with consciousness. He hadn't really had the strength to do what he had done, and in retrospect, it had been a stupid risk. The movement of his bandages had done nothing for the pain that had now ignited the entirety of his back, and he fought to breathe through the fire. Pain like he had never felt before wracked his entire body, and he couldn't hold back a slight whimper. Somewhere near him, someone was calling his name, but it was too distant to make out clearly, and he was too tired to care.

'Let me sleep. Let me be at peace,' he wished. It was almost a prayer. It was the last clear thought in his head, before he was overrun with darkness.