Glad you are enjoying this, and just to point it out to other people, this will not be a slash story. There is more Arthur than Merlin POV this chapter. Merlin gets more of a look in next one.

Arthur walked steadily, although his right hip was aching a little from the cut. It wasn't deep, the chain mail he was wearing had protected him to some extent, but the weight of it was now rubbing against the wound and it was irritating. Still, he had learnt to deal with these things. At least the pain in his fingers made the pain on his hip less.

He hadn't been surprised by the incident. The psychology of it was obvious to him. It was the simple balance of power, he was out numbered, he couldn't fight them all at once, and he had exposed a weakness by wanting to protect Merlin. Again the psychology worked on Merlin. Arthur didn't think Merlin would dare do anything now, in case Arthur received any more damage. And that wasn't just because he was worried about Arthur. Uther would be less than impressed over this situation.

At least Arthur could console himself with the fact that Merlin would remain unhurt. He had negotiated that. Arthur didn't worry about himself. From a young age he knew this sort of thing came with the territory, although he hadn't had his fingers broken in a long time. At least he knew he could handle the pain with a minimum amount of fuss.

Now it was just a case of watching and waiting. There would be a weakness somewhere in the group, he had to find it and exploit it. For that he would just have to observe what he could. The men knew what they were doing, keeping them separated as they walked, and keeping Merlin behind him so Arthur couldn't instruct him. If it had been someone else captured with him, Arthur might have been able to do so, but Merlin couldn't seem to fathom the most basic of the signals. It wasn't, Arthur had long ago realised, from lack of trying. Merlin would watch all the signals, with a serious expression, as if he actually comprehended them, and then every time he always seemed to do the complete opposite of what Arthur had told him to do.

He had given up trying to get Merlin to learn them. The boy was utterly hopeless, he couldn't seem to learn any skill to help defend himself. He couldn't keep hold of a sword, and he hadn't even learnt to duck. Arthur had been hurling items at him for months, and every single one found its mark. The prince wondered now if it had even actually occurred to Merlin to avoid the casually hurled missiles. Maybe he needed to start throwing a little harder, Arthur mused.

Some of the men around him tensed as he shifted his hand. The broken fingers were really started to bother him now, but he wasn't going to say anything. He moved his grip to clench his right hand around his left wrist, tucking his damaged hand away, and he tried to push aside the pain.

Instead he concentrated on considering the layout. He was still surrounded by the seven men, all with their swords drawn. Arthur couldn't see the leader, and presumed that he was behind him, but probably in front of Merlin. It was where Arthur would position himself if he was leading them, and he would have the second in command, the bearded man Arthur rightly assumed, at the back behind Merlin. That covered all areas, if either one of them tried something then the other would suffer for it. Arthur flexed his fingers again and hesitated as there was a scuffling sound from behind him.

Two sword points kept him facing forward but he slowed his pace and then ground to a halt.

"Your servant just fell, he's fine," the leader announced. Arthur tensed his shoulders and then the man seemed to change his mind. "Let him look," he ordered the men around Arthur.

Making sure he kept his hands on his head, and limiting his movement to turning on the spot Arthur looked round. Merlin was picking himself up off the floor, dusting his trousers down, until the bearded man nudged him, pressing the point of his sword into Merlin's backside, making him jump a mile. The three other men fenced Merlin in. Arthur's eyes narrowed as he watched.

"Are you all right, Merlin?"

Merlin straightened up, rubbing his backside before he put his hands back on his head. His expression was slightly sullen but he looked at Arthur with wide-eyes, something in them almost pleading with him.

"I'm fine," Merlin eventually said. Arthur's question remained unreciprocated out loud but Arthur could read Merlin's concern in his face and voice. He knew that on some levels he needed to reassure him, but Arthur didn't want to give anything away, so he just turned back again and carried on. Arthur felt a little bad, Merlin was bound to interpret that the wrong way, but Arthur wanted to show as little weakness as possible. In this situation it was the only way to be, he had learnt that from a young age. From the first time he had ever really been hurt.

He was ten, Arthur remembered. It was around his birthday, although he couldn't remember if it was before or after. But he had gone out with a patrol with his father and some of the knights. Arthur had been excited, although it was only supposed to be a safe little journey. But as he had gone off with three other knights they had been set upon. Arthur's pony had panicked at the sudden skirmish and had thrown him, giving one of the bandits time to grab him. The knights had surrendered without a fight after that.

The bandit had kept hold of him, keeping the knights a short distance from them. Until one of them managed to take a chance, when Arthur had stomped on the bandit's foot, not entirely comprehending what was happening. The knights had been subdued again, and the bandit had sat down, pulling Arthur onto his lap in a rather disturbing manner and he had proceeded to break the little finger of Arthur's left hand. One that was now broken again.

Arthur hadn't cried, even after the man had dumped him off his lap. He had cradled his damaged hand, but the shock of the pain meant he didn't cry. He had yelped out when the finger was broken but he had stared up at the man with confusion more than anything else. The look on the man's face had stayed imprinted on his memory for years. He had been furious that Arthur hadn't cried, that he couldn't manage to terrorize a ten year old boy. Then thankfully at that moment the rest of the patrol and his father had arrived.

It was that point Arthur knew never to show his feelings. He hadn't even to his father, who had been angry at the knights for allowing him to be hurt, but seemed to have no interest in comforting him. When the shock finally hit Arthur it had been Gaius' accommodating chest into which he had sobbed his heart out. There had been no one else.

Now, there was Merlin.

Deep down Arthur knew he shouldn't ever bring Merlin on patrol. He couldn't manage a sword, he often couldn't stay upright, but he always seemed to invite himself along. There was no real requirement for even the prince's manservant to come out on patrols, but Merlin fetched and carried and watered horses as was his duty, which would have gone to the younger knights had he not been there.

For some reason that Arthur had yet to fathom, Merlin's loyalty often exceeded his abilities and common sense. Which meant that he didn't understand this situation and probably didn't understand that Arthur wasn't going to blame him for the broken fingers. Arthur hoped he would, at some point, get the chance to explain that.

Arthur knew he father would pay whatever ransom they asked for, he was safe. He just needed to keep Merlin that way.

Merlin spent the walk desperately trying to think of something useful to do. Arthur stayed a good distance ahead of him, walking steadily, although Merlin noticed a slight limp on his right leg, due to the cut on his hip. Arthur didn't make any attempt to turn around and check on him, and Merlin, worried about Arthur, found it easy to stumble over his own feet and crash to the ground in his usual clumsy way.

It made the entire party stop walking, and Arthur half turned, but then was stopped. Merlin very slowly got up, but the leader, clearly not wanting to risk antagonising Arthur let him turn to check on Merlin. Merlin had then tried to get some level of response from Arthur and got nothing. He felt awful, however well Arthur had dealt with it Merlin was responsible for what had happened.

Now he didn't dare to anything. Arthur could get hurt again, and quite clearly to Merlin, Arthur was trying to prevent him from getting hurt. Merlin's eyes drifted up as the bearded man walked around again, to mutter something to his leader. Merlin hadn't quite worked out the blood link yet but he was deferring to the smaller man. Whatever the conversation the leader agreed and waved his comrade away. Merlin watched the man step back, waiting for him and his three guards to pass by him. He gazed steadily at Merlin, and Merlin pointedly gazed at Arthur.

It had also occurred to Merlin that Uther might blame him for whatever damage was inflicted on Arthur. He didn't really want to think about that. Arthur did his best most of the time but although Merlin usually ended up in the stocks he got the feeling that Uther would soon make good the threat of flogging him. It came up now and again, and it wasn't something Merlin should be worrying about right now. Not while Arthur seemed to be taking this kidnapping thing as commonplace, but Merlin didn't like it.

Merlin was frightened.

And it didn't get any better moments after Merlin realised that.

"Stop," the leader ordered. Arthur complied, and as a consequence so did Merlin. "If you could turn around please, Sire."

It sounded to Merlin like this man had done this before. Arthur followed the instruction, his expression calm but curious as he looked around. Merlin kept his eyes on Arthur, wondering what was to happen, and then he gave a yelp as his arms were grabbed and pulled down from his head, a second later a cloth sack was jammed over his head.

"You could have warned him," Arthur reproached.

"He isn't worth anything," the leader said. "We will use him to demonstrate we mean no harm, but we cannot from this point allow you to see where we are going."

Two of Merlin's guards had taken an arm each, one hand on Merlin's upper arm, the other on his wrist. Arthur got the hint, they were going to be guided the rest of the way in such a fashion. In response Arthur lowered his arms, nodding in compliance but also added.

"He can hardly keep his balance when he can see where he is going, just let him take his time," Arthur warned. The leader nodded at his men and then started to walk Merlin off the track and down through the thick ferns making up the undergrowth. True to form a few steps later Merlin slipped. His guards paused and balanced him before easing Merlin further down. Arthur watched and then nodded at the leader.

"Thank you."

"You seem to care about him."

"I'm his master, it would be remiss of me not to. My horses get the same treatment," Arthur said. The man frowned at him and then nodded. Arthur wasn't surprised when the bag was pulled over his head and two men started to guide him. They turned him in the same direction they had taken Merlin, now he just had to trust that this man would play fair, Arthur got the sense that he would.

The walk was not an easy one. Arthur carefully balanced his feet and he was warned about roots and inclines. He worked blindfold on the practice field, but that was a flat surface. There were times he slipped and the man holding his left arm flinched once or twice as Arthur huffed, and then grunted as his grip slipped and caught Arthur's damaged fingers.

"Sorry, sorry," the man stammered adjusting his grip.

"It's fine," Arthur said, sounding calm through his gritted teeth. He didn't know if it was deliberate or not but he wasn't about to start yelping. The bag made it harder to hear, Arthur couldn't tell where Merlin was, and he could only hope that they had been taken in the same direction. Arthur didn't like this, his stomach starting to swirl with butterflies, but he had to stay calm, he knew that.

They hit level ground for a moment, there was the rustle of material. Then they stopped and the bag was pulled from his head and the grip released. Arthur looked around at the interior of a small tent he found himself in. Straw was spread out on the floor in the shape of a small, makeshift bed and that was the only comfort in the small space. The area was no more than four paces in either direction. Which didn't make for much luxury. He turned to the doorway and looked at the bandit's leader.

"Where's Merlin?"

"He's safe. For obvious reasons I wish you secure you separately. I'll allow you to see him once your wounds have been treated. I do apologise for both of them, and I promise your servant will be unharmed when you see him."

"If he's not, I'd advise you not to stand so close to me," Arthur warned.

It made the man blink so Arthur racked a point up to himself. He had shown a weakness by wanting to protect Merlin, but so much as a scratch would make him retaliate. It was a simple drawing of the battle lines, and Arthur knew when to push them. So did the bandit leader.

"I understand that, I will send my healer along to treat you."

With that he left the tent. Arthur looked around, there wasn't much to look at, and he presumed he had more than enough guards around him. They could make a good deal of money from him. Arthur was, in a way, thankful it was him. Uther would probably pay his ransom, another of the knights would be left to his fate.

There was nothing else to do, Arthur carefully knelt down on the straw bed and eased up his chain mail, settling it out of the way while he eased the waistband of his trousers down to look at the damage on his hip. It was nothing more than a light cut, but it was painful, the skin around it smeared with blood. The cut was clotting, so he left it alone. Instead he took two deep breaths and started to ease his glove off. The fingers had swelled and it took a while, as he grunted through the pain.

Arthur closed his eyes, took in several short, sharp breaths before pulling and setting the bones. Gaius had taught him enough, Arthur wasn't a complete expert, but he could manage in the field. The pain made him inhale and then breathe out through his nose. If he opened his mouth he couldn't be entirely responsible for what came out of it, and not just verbally. He closed his eyes, wincing as he checked they were set correctly and then he tried to push the pain to the back of his mind.

He had just settled down when someone lifted the tent flap. Arthur looked up, blinking to clear his vision so he looked a little less feeble, and he also sat up.

"I need to check your wounds. They said your fingers were broken," the man said. He looked as roughly dressed as the other men but he sounded embarrassed about the injuries. He was followed by one of the men who Arthur recognised as his guards, who retreated after a moment's pause. The healer held his hands out, reaching for Arthur's hand.

"May I?"

Arthur shrugged at the request and let his hand be assessed. The touch was gentle.

"You've reset them."

"Yes," Arthur replied calmly.

The man looked up. He didn't at that moment, look very old, probably about Arthur's own age, maybe a little older, but that could have just been the harder life he was leading.

"I have splints, and the poultice should help control the swelling, I'll set it and then clean your wound."

"Thank you."

Arthur remained utterly calm, as his hand was set, quite well from how he could compare it with Gaius' work and his hip was cleaned and smeared with a healing balm, which was then covered with a strip of linen cloth. After that Arthur carefully dressed himself, pulling his trousers back up over his right hip and tying them. He winced a little as the chain mail swung down, brushing against it.

"I could help you out of your armour if you wish," the healer asked. Arthur shook his head.

"No, thank you, I think I'll keep it. I want to see Merlin as soon as possible."

"No one will hurt him."

"No offence, but I am not going to trust you that simply. And I don't know what might happen to him when he's out of my sight. I don't always trust him to behave when I can keep an eye on him."

"None taken, I'll speak to I'lian, he'll make sure you see your friend as soon as possible."

"He's not my friend," Arthur said coldly, method very carefully placed in his behaviour. "He's my servant."

The healer nodded, his face contorting with confusion. Arthur added nothing more, but then his head snapped up sharply as a yelp rang through the air. He was on his feet in seconds, body tense and he pushed the healer aside without thought. The man with him had no weapons, he had probably not thought to bring any. There was no need to. Outside the tent were two guards on the door and two left and right a little further away and probably more placed around the tent.

Arthur looked around, there were tents scattered around the trees, and just in front of him a central cooking area, which was quiet at that moment. There was no sound, nothing that Arthur for the moment could locate.

"My Lord, if you wait, I'll bring your servant."

"Merlin!"

Arthur ignored the assurance. Instead he yelled and waited, every fibre in his body vibrated with tension as he waited for an answer. It took a few seconds but he got one.

"Arthur!"