A/N: This story is inspired by Seasons 3&4 of "The New Adventures of Robin Hood" (I specifically mention those two seasons because of actor changes so the season 3&4 characters are the ones I imagined writing this) but it can really work with any Robin Hood media as long as you don't mind historical inaccuracy and know that in this, Marion is part of Robin Hood's gang and she can fight, and they live in a hidden camp with other people (including some civilians) in the Sherwood Forest. Oh and Friar Tuck is an amazing cook and knows a lot about medicinal herbs.

This is Day 1 of Whumptober 2023, prompts were: Safety Net / Swooning / "How many fingers am I holding up?"

New Type of Torture

Completely at the mercy of his captors, Robin floated in and out of consciousness. Unsure of how much time had passed, he gasped for air as the torturer removed his device from Robin's head. It reminded him of a bag made out of some weird material. Intestines maybe? Robin wasn't sure, but what he did know was that whenever it was put on his head, breathing became harder. Every time he inhaled, it would cling to his nose and mouth preventing him from taking a breath. Instantly, he would feel hot, and loss of consciousness would follow soon after. But his capturer didn't want him dead. Oh no. The man would remove the bag and cold water would be poured over Robin's head, waking him up instantly, coughing and gasping for air. Disorientated.

He lost count of how many times he lost consciousness; he wasn't sure how long he was out but what he knew was that he had to do something soon or he wasn't getting out alive.

"Tell us where Robin Hood's camp is and this will all be over," said the man standing next to him. Robin didn't recognize him, he must be new to the area but he sure made an impression.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Robin's voice hoarse.

Like a bratty child, the man kicked Robin, his foot collided with Robin's shin. A sharp pain shot up his leg and Robin gritted his teeth, stifling a moan. The pain turned to throbbing as the man turned on his heels and walked out of the room, frustrated with Robin's lack of cooperation.

Left alone for the first time, Robin looked around the room trying to assess the situation. His wrists ached from the metal chains around them, his lips dry, he licked them to wet them, a metallic taste abused his taste buds. Blood. It must have been from when he was punched when he tried to wriggle out of the bag for the first time. Wincing in pain, he scanned the room around him. Orange flames from torches on the wall lit the room just enough for him to see everything, torture devices scattered around the room, dark glass jars on the table by the wall. The place was damp, he could smell it. Moldy scent mixed with the metallic scent of blood from the old rags discarded in the corner of the room. A shiver ran down his spine. Water drops rhythmically hit the ground behind him. Stone walls, wet with what he hoped was water, glistened in the shadows. No windows. He must be underground, he thought. His battered knees and shins a proof of that, throbbing, they reminded him how he was dragged down multiple flights of stairs. Goosebumps covered his skin, he knew exactly what atrocities these walls had seen and he was certain that the same fate awaited him.

Quick steps sounded behind the door. One. No! Two sets of steps, one heavier than the other, got closer to the door.

"You're useless." A man's voice came from behind the closed door. It wasn't the one of the man who kicked him, this one was deeper, older.

"But father, I've tried everything to get him to talk, like you taught me. He's not talking." His torturer's voice was whiny, laced with fear.

"Amateur. Follow me, watch and learn. One day this castle will belong to you but if you don't clean up Sherwood Forest, you won't have it for long before Locksley steals it from you."

The creaking sound of heavy wood mixed with the clunking of metal reached Robin's ears as the door opened and the two men entered the torture chamber.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here." A short and fat man in ornate robes stood in front of Robin, as he spoke, a scent of wine hit Robin's nose. He must have indulged himself before his feast was interrupted. "How about you tell us where Robin Hood's camp is and we get this over with. It's in your best interest to tell us, it's not like Robin is going to find you here, there's no point in being loyal." A smile that was meant to be reassuring showed up on the man's face, but it was anything but. However, this interaction confirmed one thing to Robin, they had no clue who he was, and it worked to his advantage. That was good, it meant they were likely to underestimate him and with only two of them, he would have a chance if he only got out of these restraints. He only had to figure out how to get out of them.

"Last chance." The man's voice took him out of his thoughts and forced him to focus. He watched as the man circled him and paused right behind him.

Not getting the response he wanted, the man grabbed a long piece of stained cloth from the table and put it over Robin's mouth and nose. It stunk, his eyes watered as the stench penetrated his nostrils, he could hardly breathe. Behind him, the man tied the cloth into a knot, securing it in place after which he pulled on Robin's hair, snatching his head back, and extending his neck at a painful angle.

"You see, I always get what I want and you're about to give it to me," he said still pulling or Robin's hair, keeping his head where he wanted it. "Pass me the jug." He ordered the younger man and Robin watched as the thinner and taller man, presumably the son, walked over to the table and grabbed a ceramic jug full of dirty water, balancing it in his hand, trying not to spill it as he walked back towards the center of the room where Robin was located.

"Now watch, maybe you'll learn something." With that, he pulled Robin's head even more towards him, his body shifted in the chair, the restraints holding him in place cut painfully into his limbs. But before he had a chance to focus on that, the man poured water over his nose, slowly. As the water drenched the cloth, it started to seep into Robin's nose. He choked and coughed, his nose and throat burned. The man paused and as Robin tried to catch his breath, the water was poured over his mouth. This time quickly. As he inhaled the water, he erupted in a fit of coughs, fighting to catch his breath, he pushed against his restraints. Unsuccessfully. The man behind him laughed as he continued to pour water over Robin's face. It was coming fast, and Robin tried to spit the water out but the cloth covering his mouth prevented him from doing so and as he tried to swallow, more water was poured over his nose. He was unable to breathe. Panic settled in and as he tried to stop it his throat constricted. With his remaining strength, he fought against his chains, unable to feel deep cuts forming on his wrists and ankles. Unable to breathe, he was on the brink of losing consciousness when he heard it. A loud clunk of metal. And another one. Shouting. A sword. Then everything went black.

He woke up to the sound of a familiar voice calling him, "Robin…" A warm hand shook his arm, forcing him to focus on the sensation. "Robin, please wake up." That voice, so familiar… He tried to open his eyes, but they were too heavy.

"Marion?" He whispered; his voice muffled by the wet cloth around his face.

Was he dead? He could swear he smelled her scent when an arm brushed his cheek to reach the knot behind his head. At last, the cloth was lifted off his face. As he took a deep breath, his throat burned.

"Robin, come on, wake up…" A warm hand cupped his face, a finger brushed his cheek, and he forced himself to open his eyes, his eyelids fluttered. "That's it. Come on, come back to me…"

"Ma— Marion?" Her auburn hair unmistakable even with his blurry vision. Was he in heaven? No! That would mean that she was dead too. He shook his head and tried to focus his gaze.

She smiled at him, "Welcome back," she said and reached to free his hands from his restraints. The metal clung as she put the key in and twisted. Seconds later, pressure on his wrists was gone only to be replaced by burning. Marion gently grabbed his hands and examined them; the warmth of her skin warming his cold hands. "Oh, Robin," she whispered seeing his bloody wrists.

She brought her attention back to his face and furrowed her brows as she examined him, he looked dazed.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked.

"None, you're still holding my hands." His voice was coarse, but a small smile appeared on his face. She let out a small laugh, the tension eased.

"How did you find me?"

"Long story. Let's fix you up and get you home first."

"I'd like that." He let his head fall back. "Let's go home." He let out a long, slow breath. He was safe, this time. But one of these days his luck was about to run out, he knew that.

The End