Thank you so much once again for all the support. I hope you like what is still to come.

If Merlin had been thinking straight, he would have tried to hide the second that he regained consciousness. But the collar meant that all rational thoughts were driven from his head and he could do nothing but let out a low moan as alertness returned to him once again. Almost immediately, there was a rough pair of hands shaking him awake, and as Merlin opened his eyes, Jarta's grip shifted to the collar. Before the boy could protest, he had been hauled upright by his neck. Merlin didn't say anything though, not when he felt Jarta playing with the clasp and the metal falling away.

As soon as the control of the collar was removed, Merlin felt his legs give way. He would have fallen if it wasn't for his master wrapping an arm around his chest, steering him over to a nearby chair and forcing him to sit with something that could almost resemble a hint of gentleness.

"Here." Looking blearily up, Merlin saw the cup being offered to him. Once, he might have been suspicious of anything that Jarta gave him, but right now, he was too exhausted to care. He knew the man wouldn't kill him, no matter how much he fought and disobeyed, he was too valuable. Taking a sip, Merlin almost groaned as the cool water soothed his throat. He hadn't noticed how much that one scream had taken out of him, not just straining his vocal cords. Going against Jarta's orders had come with a cost. The drink helped clear his head slightly and Merlin looked up at his master, trying not to fidget.

Jarta was watching him with an unreadable expression, almost as if he knew something about Merlin that the warlock himself didn't. Considering his whole life was in Jarta's hands at the moment, Merlin didn't like the look and swiftly dropped his gaze.

"You do realise that the leaders of all the groups around us will be here within the next few moments, they are approaching as we speak, coming to claim your prince."

"He's not my prince." Merlin muttered, realising that no matter how much he might wish for Arthur to be his friend, the other boy would never be able to be his prince. Merlin wasn't under the rule of Camelot, and now that Arthur knew about his magic, knew that he never could be. It was one thing for Arthur to accept him out here, where he needed all the friends he could get. It was another thing to be letting him back into the city and therefore actively committing treason.

"I think he might be, even without you knowing." Jarta murmured, thinking back on what he had been told about the prophecy. "But that doesn't matter. Strong leaders are coming here, Merlin, all of whom know what you can do and have both threatened and tried to bribe me for your services over the last six months. Do you know how much I've had to protect you from?"

"I'm sorry, Master." Merlin really wasn't, but he knew what was expected of him now. He knew when he had to play the obedient slave in order to simply survive.

"Why did you have to choose now in order to start fighting back?" Jarta murmured, seeming to be talking to himself more than the warlock sitting across from him.

"What are you going to do to me?" Merlin whispered, finally managed to meet Jarta's gaze again. He knew that they weren't just talking about this for the sake of it. Jarta was planning something, something to make sure that he still had his most valuable weapon for when the other leaders arrived. Any hint of weakness, any sign that Merlin wasn't completely under his control and he knew that would be exploited, that Merlin would either be taken from him or killed.

"We have to redo the ritual. It's the only way." If Merlin ever looked back on that moment, he might have said that Jarta almost looked sad about it. It was as if he was genuinely sorry about what he would have to do to the boy again.

"No, no, please…" Merlin put the drink down, his hand running subconsciously over the mark on his arm that was the left over reminder of the last time that the ritual had been performed. He knew that he would have the scar forever now. Even if he did manage to escape, he would always bare the mark of what had happened.

"You leave me no choice. You are overcoming it and that cannot be allowed to happen." Merlin swallowed, holding back tears as he looked at the floor. He didn't want to go through that again, he didn't want to make sure that Jarta's hold over him was absolute. The boy had no idea it was because something stronger was at work – his destiny with the future king. His magic existed to help Arthur, meaning it didn't matter how many times or different ways his magic was chained, it would rebel.

"Please…"

"But I also don't have time to perform it before they get here. It will have to be done tonight. They can see the prince, then they will be made to leave whilst we decide which offer that we shall accept. My men can do that, and we will carry out the ritual. Come morning, not only will we have a fine ransom in our hands, you will once again be properly back under my control. We'll be unstoppable, Merlin, you'll see."

"What if I don't want to?" Merlin muttered, refusing to look his master in the eye as he spoke. Jarta barely even blinked, and Merlin didn't notice the man was moving until he was pulled from his seat, the grip around his upper arm almost bruising.

"Have you still not realised that after all of this time, what you want doesn't matter?" Jarta almost growled, pulling Merlin to the front of the tent and pushing him through the flap. "Go and clean those pots."

Following the man's eye line, Merlin sighed heavily. It was clear that all the time he had spent tied to the post, no one had washed anything. Not through laziness (although Merlin suspected that might have something to do with it), but because Jarta was clearly trying to make him have to work. Shrugging his arm out of Jarta's grip, Merlin walked slowly over. He knew that there was no point in protesting or arguing back, he was lucky to have got away with what he had done so far. The warlock didn't look back, but proceeded to start shifting the pots over to the river.

Ignoring the way that there always at least one bandit looming over him, Merlin set to work. It didn't matter how many scathing comments they made or how many times they knocked over the pile of clean pots so that he had to do at least a couple again, Merlin wouldn't rise to the bait. He knew full well that the threat didn't just come from other leaders, but from within their own camp. After all, gaining control of him would mean gaining control of these men, something that even a weak minded fool would want.

Merlin had only been at the river for a few moments when he heard the sounds of the other bandits arriving. The man watching him at the time cuffed him somewhat lightly over the head, told him to stay put and headed off so that he could be part of the procedure. Merlin, however, simply dropped the pot and rose stealthily to his feet, creeping after him. By hiding behind Jarta's tent, he was able to get quite a clear view over what was going on, seeing the burly men dismounting from their horses and snapping at slaves to do something about it. All of them looked to be at least twice Jarta's size, making Merlin realise why the man was so determined to make out that everything was fine and his power was just as strong as ever.

But the bandits didn't hold Merlin's attention for long. They had clearly come here for business and nothing else and so were not prepared to waste time on small talk. Merlin had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out as Arthur was manhandled into the centre of the camp. They had left his shirt off him, making the two lash marks clear for all to see. Merlin had been in the camp long enough to know why – it was a sign that Arthur was a fighter and force was needed in order to keep him under control. Yet pushed to his knees with his hands tied behind his back and his mouth silenced, the prince looked nothing more than a child surrounded by the men.

The men didn't waste any time, and Merlin found himself flinching back as Arthur squirmed, trying to get the hands off him as he was inspected like he was nothing more than some form of cattle. The touches became more aggressive, more intimate and Merlin found that he was stepping forward, his magic coiling unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach again. Arthur was his friend, he was not going to let him be treated like this.

"Enough." Jarta's voice cut through Arthur's muffled cries of protests and Merlin's head shot up. But his master wasn't looking at the prince, he was looking straight at Merlin, shaking his head warningly. Merlin swallowed hard and forced himself to step back, once again hidden from view. Jarta knew that to make any money on Arthur, he had to be strict. He might make the prince squirm, but no real harm would come to him now, it gave the aggressor too much of a hold.

"Dantor, take him away." Merlin knew that he was not the only one who let out a sigh of relief as Arthur was hauled to his feet and dragged away. Jarta, however, continued. "You know the deal, best offers with me by sunrise and I'll decide then. This meeting is over."

Most of the men knew a dismissal when they heard one and all mounted their horses again. All but one. Waiting until the thundering hooves had disappeared into nothing, the giant of a man stepped forward.

"The prince, sweet as he might be, isn't all that I have come for. Your slave, Jarta."

"No. How many times must we have this discussion, Merlin isn't for sale." Said warlock found that he was inching closer again. Only this time, it wasn't to be able to see what was going on or anything like that, it was because Jarta was taking control of his magic. The bandit was moving him into position in order to act should the need arise. Merlin knew that at this moment in time, he could potentially fight Jarta's control, but he also knew that it would end badly. The opposing bandit would kill Jarta, take Arthur and probably find a way of neutralising Merlin. If Merlin protested now, he knew that everything was likely to be lost.

Instead, he let his master take the magic. However, there was a look of strain on Jarta's face that Merlin wasn't used to seeing. He might not have actively been fighting the hold, but his magic was after its independence now that it had had a taste. Jarta had to fight in order to get it to listen, and as the man glanced over at him, Merlin found that he was shrinking back. He didn't want to have to do this ritual again, but he knew in that one look that he would have no choice. Jarta was going to make sure he regained control, no matter what it took.

"We'll just see about that then." The huge man snarled, reaching for his sword. Merlin didn't even think about what was happening as Jarta seized the magic and constructed a shield in front of him. As the man swung, the force of the magic was so great that not only was his sword deflected, he was bodily thrown back a pace or two. Merlin exhaled shakily, resting one hand on the tent pole as the magic drained away again. It seemed that Jarta was not the only one struggling with this arrangement now.

"This isn't over, Jarta. I will have them both."

"Why?" There seemed to be such genuine curiosity on Jarta's face that Merlin frowned. It was almost as if the man didn't just want them both because they were good prizes to have separately, but almost as if they were worth so much more together.

"I think you know why. Until tomorrow…" The man climbed from the floor and leapt onto his horse. Merlin didn't like the way that his parting words seemed more of a threat than anything else, but only just stepped back in time to avoid being flattened by the flying hooves.

"Go and get some rest, Merlin. I should have known you would be listening in to that. Tomorrow, you say goodbye to your prince. But tonight, tonight we show all those who doubt me precisely why they shouldn't try and double cross me like that. You will need your strength about you, and it has been a trying few days. Go."

Merlin knew that it was nothing to do with his own welfare that Jarta was letting him have an afternoon off, but because he needed this spell to work. Bandits such as that one seemed to be multiplying, and they all wanted to get their hands on the warlock. Taking a step towards Jarta's tent, Merlin realised that he wasn't the slightest bit tired.

"Can I..?"

"Oh go on then." Jarta muttered irritably, turning on his heel and entering the tent himself. Merlin, however, smiled and hurried around the back, heading towards where he knew that Arthur was restrained. The prince's hands were still tied behind his back, but it was a small silver chain running from his ankle that kept him bound to the post. It was clear they hadn't wanted to untie him, hold him against the post just to tie him back up again. Arthur was staring into nothing, and Merlin was certain that he was trembling slightly.

Dropping to his knees, the warlock crawled the last part, reaching out a hand and resting it gently on Arthur's shoulder. The prince jumped violently, his eyes wide and scared until he realised that it was Merlin. The warlock bit his lip, leaning forward and teasing the gag out of Arthur's mouth.

"Are you okay?" He asked gently.

"Are you?" Arthur shot back, clearly not wanting to admit that he was scared. Merlin gave a shrug.

"Not really. Jarta's repeating the ritual tonight."

"What does that mean for you?"

"That I'll be his slave forever." Merlin muttered, shifting into a more comfortable position and sitting down next to Arthur. The prince moved his foot, the chain clinking loudly as he nudged it against Merlin's leg.

"No, you won't. We're getting out of here."

Despite everything that had happened over the last six months, Merlin actually found himself believing the prince. The fear in Arthur's eyes was being replaced by determination. He seemed to genuinely believe that they would be able to carry this off.

"Can you untie me?" Arthur's voice was soft and uncertain, and Merlin realised that it was a big thing for the prince to have to admit to needing help. Merlin nodded, reaching around until he came to the rope holding Arthur's hands behind his back. But just as he touched the rope, an almighty shock of pain slammed into him. Merlin cried out, flinching back as every muscle in his arms trembled and shook with the force of whatever that was. Watching his hands shaking, Merlin looked up in time to see Arthur school his face back into an expression of neutrality. He hadn't been quick enough though, Merlin had seen enough to know that the shocks had also made it to Arthur.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Guessing that you can't untie me then?" Merlin shook his head, drawing his knees up to his chest and sighing deeply. Unable to stop himself, he glanced at the sky, hating the way that the sun was beginning to set. His magic coiled unpleasantly, almost as if it knew that within just a few hours, it would be firmly restrained again. Not realising that he had sighed out loud, Merlin started when Arthur yet again let their feet bump together.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"What can you do?" Merlin didn't mean to sound harsh, but he was feeling desperate. He saw the hurt flicker across Arthur's face and sighed again. "I'm sorry, it's just… you're tied to a post. There are bandits surrounding this area bidding on who is going to offer the highest price to have you as their slave, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop this because in a few hours, I will barely even be myself."

"It's not up to you to get me out of this, Merlin." Arthur responded quietly, shifting as best as he could so that he could turn to face the other boy. "I know they used you to catch me and that for a time I thought you were responsible. But I know that you are not, I don't blame you. You don't have to try and make it up to me."

"I know. It's just…" Merlin wasn't quite sure how to explain it. When he had started thinking about freeing Arthur, about getting him away from here and making sure that he wasn't sold in the same manner that Merlin had once seen goats sold, something had felt right. He wasn't sure whether it was his magic or just a feeling in his gut. Yet as soon as the thought had flickered through his mind, he knew what he had to do. It was like it was his destiny to help Arthur out.

"I feel like I have to."

"You do?"

"Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not, Merlin, I… I think I feel the same." Merlin blinked. Ever since he had seen Arthur being dragged in front of all those men, he had felt a lot older than he was. He felt like he had some sort of responsibility to keep Arthur safe, despite just being a boy in the midst of bandits. But Arthur was older than he was, and could fight as well. If he was feeling that same tug, that same bond that seemed to be telling them to help out each other, maybe it was more than just wishful thinking that was making Arthur believe they were going to get out of this.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't want him to do the ritual again! I don't want to be his slave, I want my magic back under my control. I just want to go home!" The words came out faster than Merlin could stop them and his cheeks burned in humiliation as a few tears slipped down them. He angrily brushed them away, determined that he wasn't going to show any sort of weakness in front of Arthur. But he couldn't stop himself; he was genuinely terrified.

"Merlin, listen to me. I won't let him take control of your magic again."

"He already has control, he just wants to reinforce it," Merlin muttered, turning his face away to hide it in his knees. This wasn't the first time the thought had flickered across his head in the last six months, but he found himself wishing he was back in Ealdor, back with his mother, now more than ever. She wouldn't have let anything like this happen to him. Why had he let his temper get the better of him, why had he run away?

"I'm not sure he has, you know. His control seemed pretty absolute before, yet you disobeyed a direct order from him back in the tent. It looked like they had to use some pretty extreme measures in order to stop you." Merlin shuddered, rubbing a hand over his neck as he recalled the sheer agony the collar had sent through him as it had forced his magic back.

"You have to run, Merlin."

"You think if I could, I wouldn't have done so months ago?"

"Merlin, it looks like his control on you is slipping. This could be your one chance to get out of here, get back to your life, back to your mother. You mean to say that you don't want to even give it a try?"

"But I can't untie you, I can't get you free."

"Then you go without me."

"No, Arthur…"

"Merlin, there is no time. By sunrise tomorrow, we both may as well be dead considering the situation we are going to find ourselves in. They're going to have to untie me to take me from the camp, meaning I'll have the chance to run. But if Jarta has regained control of your magic by that point, they'll use you to keep me subdued. He might have had no intention of my father meeting the deadline in time, but the message has still be sent, the king knows what is happening to me. They'll be looking for me."

Merlin knew what wasn't being said. Who would still be looking for him after all this time? A child, even with magic, would not have been able to survive six months in a forest alone. And there was no one in Ealdor who had the skill with any sort of weapon to even try to approach bandit infested territory in order to continue their search. At least, Merlin hoped they hadn't. He had matured in his six months, he knew the consequences of his actions and wasn't sure if he would ever be able to forgive himself if someone had been hurt looking for him. Arthur watched in silence as the emotions played out across Merlin's face and another tear slipped down his cheek.

"You might even run into the patrols if you run now, they'll be able to keep you safe until all of this is over. Please, I'm not sure if I can help you by tomorrow, you have to go now why the time is right."

Whether it was the constant persistence in Arthur's voice that got through to the warlock, or whether he was just so desperate to get home he stopped trying to fight back, Merlin wasn't sure. But he did find himself nodding, slowly kneeling up before bringing his feet out from under him.

"I'll get you some water first, it's the least I can do." Arthur seemed to realise that if he protested, Merlin would just argue back and cause them to lose even more time.

"Thank you."

Offering a weak smile, Merlin leapt up and sped off towards the river. His magic was refusing to settle down, bubbling uncomfortably away under his skin. He didn't have enough control to simply release it when there wasn't an actual danger, but it was fighting back too much to simply stay dormant. It was only when he reached the river that Merlin realised he had no sort of container to transport any water back to the prince and glanced around wildly. Off to one side, hidden under a bush, was a small pot.

Snatching it up, Merlin grinned. It had clearly rolled under there when the bandits had been kicking at his pile only earlier on that day. Never before had Merlin been grateful for their boorish behaviour, but now he found himself sighing in relief at it. It only took him a matter of seconds before he had filled it and was on his way back to Arthur. The camp seemed to be abuzz with activity and Merlin had picked up enough from the last few months to know that it meant they thought there was trouble on the way. Merlin didn't need to ask what – having overheard everything the other bandits had said, he knew that they were expecting a fight when it was revealed who Arthur was being sold to. It did mean, however, that Merlin was able to just slip through relatively unseen. Those who did notice him ignored him, and anyone that might have made a move to stop him didn't see him.

"Here." Keeping his voice soft and quiet this time, Merlin carefully pressed the pot against Arthur's lips, tilting it up so that the prince could drink. How eagerly Arthur did so caused Merlin to frown in concern. He had either been yelling through the gag more than Merlin had heard, or no one had given him anything since when Merlin had been removed the day before. Somehow, the young warlock had a feeling it was a combination of both.

When Arthur had had enough, he titled his head to one side and Merlin immediately stopped. He had had too much experience with having things forced down his throat that he didn't want, there was no way he was going to even vaguely mimic that.

"Merlin, you have to go." Arthur's eyes were slightly brighter after having something to drink and Merlin could see the way his hands were twisting in the ropes. The prince of Camelot was not just going to see there and wait to be sold as a slave to some bandits who most likely wanted him dead.

"I…"

"Merlin, please. Get out, live." There was a hint of desperation in Arthur's voice and it made Merlin realise that the warrior in Arthur had a much better idea of what was going on than Merlin did, despite it being the latter who had lived here for the last however many months.

"But I can't leave you here."

"Merlin, if you don't get out now, I won't be able to come back for you. I'll find you again, I promise." Merlin bit his lip, but nodded. He was used to being told what to do, and it was almost something of a relief to have someone who seemed to care about him be the one giving the orders.

"Now, before anyone sees you." Dropping the pot, Merlin back away. His magic protested, making him want to move back towards Arthur. But the prince shook his head and Merlin found he was listening to the older boy more than his magic. Pushing away the feelings, he forced himself to keep backing up, eyes locked in apology on the prince. When he reached the edge of the trees, he turned.

The woods were dark and cold, and Merlin was forcibly reminded of the night that he had run from home, the night when his life had been turned upside down – and not for the better. He swallowed hard, feeling young and small.

"Merlin, run!" This wasn't soft words of encouragement coming from the prince this time, it was a yell of fear. Merlin glanced around to see Jarta looking absolutely furious, his hand gripping Arthur's hair. As Merlin looked around, he gave Arthur a shake, clearly trying to get Merlin to think twice. Yet Arthur's eyes were telling him something completely different – begging Merlin to go. Despite wanting to go back for Arthur, Merlin knew he had no choice. If he was going to get out of this at all, he had to go now.

But no sooner had he turned to move again, pain exploded through his head as his magic turned inwards. He could hear Arthur yelling, but the world was blacking out as he fell to his knees, doubled over as he gripped his hair in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

It was no good though.

Just as a pair of boots entered his vision, Merlin pitched forward. He never felt the impact with the ground, for he was already unconscious, Jarta standing over him with a sneer on his face and a dagger in his hand.