After parting ways with Gwaine and Percival, Arthur, Leon, Elyan, Emanuel, and Moffat had tracked the slavers until it grew too dark and they were forced to stop. They had gone almost another full day without even a glimpse of their targets. They had just crossed the border and Arthur was feeling rather nervous about it- Queen Jezebel had good reason to hate him and would not take kindly if she heard he had entered her lands without permission.

He had just reflected upon this when there was a whistling sound and Sir Moffat fell out of his saddle, a bolt protruding from his neck. Mere moments later there was a sudden outbreak of rather aggressive shouting, and from either side men Arthur assumed to be slavers came charging towards them. It was an ambush!

They were upon them in no time and Arthur parried a strike, ducking under another and stabbing forwards, running one of his two opponents through before pivoting and knocking away a thrust from the second, slashing the man across the chest. The adrenalin he always felt when fighting surged through him, bringing with it a feeling of something that was almost exhilaration. They were vastly outnumbered but he felt a rush of pride when with a quick glance he saw his knights holding their own against at least two at a time.

It was quickly followed with a stab of sorrow for Moffat who was lying dead on the ground, the bolt still stuck in his throat.

He was distracted by another attacker and slammed his sword hilt-to-hilt with the slavers before bearing up, lashing out with his foot, knocking him off balance and finally running him through.

Suddenly an abnormally long mace wrapped around his sword's blade, pulling it from his hands. Arthur didn't give the man a change to attack again however, bull-rushing him and tackling him to the ground, slamming his shoulder straight against the man's sternum as he did. The body of the last slaver he had slain was only feet away and he reached for the man's sword which was still grasped in his hand even in death. But before he could finish his dazed, wheezing opponent, a gravelly voice boomed across the camp.

"Drop your weapons or the boy dies!"

Looking over towards the source of the shout, Arthur saw a man with one large, muscled arm wrapped around Merlin and holding a sword to his throat. Arthur felt a temporary rush of relief; after looking Merlin over he couldn't see any injuries, although his hands were tied behind him and a he had a sack pulled over his head.

Arthur expected Merlin to say something stupid and reckless as usual like, "don't listen to him," or, "don't worry about me!" but he didn't. Instead Merlin surprised him by shouting "Help me Arthur!" sounding frightened, his voice muffled by the sack.

This was so out of character that it quite worried Arthur, what could they have done to make him so scared?

Arthur really saw no alternative, so he bent over, laying his sword on the ground. He nodded to the other Knights and they did the same. The man holding Merlin hostage jerked his head and slavers forced them all to their knees, taking their weapons. Arthur tried to think of ways out of this situation, and had actually come up with several theories when something very odd happened: the man released Merlin and cut the ropes around his wrists. Merlin then reached up and tugged off the sack, shaking out his raven colored hair. Only, it wasn't Merlin at all. They looked remarkable alike: had the same voice, even had the same distinctive cheekbones, but it was not his manservant.

It took Arthur only a moment to put together what had happened: It had all been a trap, and it had worked perfectly.

"This was all just to get us over the border." spat Elyan, "You never really took Merlin from the forest!"

"No, you don't say." said the impostor in an extraordinarily sarcastic voice that was completely identical to Merlin's.

"That was so easy it was almost disappointing." remarked the slaver who had previously been holding "Merlin" hostage.

"I've done my part, now take this blasted enchantment off me, I hate his voice" said Merlin's look alike.

"You crossed the border of your own free will, and now you are trespassing on Caerleon's lands. In accordance, you will be bound and taken to Queen Jezebel. She will decide your fate."

Suddenly Arthur felt a prick on his neck and moments later fell forwards, oddly detached from his body. In only a few seconds whatever had coated the darts protruding from his and his Knights necks had knocked them all out.

Slowly emerging from unconsciousness, Merlin found himself lying on his side and still on the forest floor. His head felt as though it had been cleaved in two and he lay still, hoping that would make it hurt less. What had happened? The last thing he remembered, he was about to answer Gwaine's question about the flower, then…He was finding it hard to concentrate, a throbbing pain in his shoulder distracting him. But It was the pain that finally triggered his memory and caused his eyes to fly open in panic: he had got shot with a bolt in the shoulder, fallen off the edge of the shelf of rock he had been walking along, and knocked himself out when his head struck the rocks at the bottom!

Becoming aware of rough voices Merlin turned his head towards the sound, "They crossed the border?" said a man's gruff voice, an accent Merlin had never heard before slurring his words into an almost drawl.

"Not yet, but we're ready for when they do," reported another man.

Vision still slightly unfocused Merlin slowly became more aware of his surroundings, particularly the fact that his wrists were tied in front of him. He tried to sit up but his strength left him and he fell back onto his side. The three men arguing only feet away just ignored him, not even sparing him a glance.

"They do not suspect a trap?"

"No, all they can think about is rescuing the boy."

Merlin tried again and this time managed to sit up, propping his back against a tree, "What have you done…" he mumbled though a kind of haze, pressing one hand to his newly discovered head wound from which blood was dripping down the side of his face. Or at least, he tried to mumble. When he went through the motions of speech, it felt as though something was choking him and he had to stop. He looked down at his shoulder to see his shirt on his right shoulder stained with blood, turning it a darker blue. His jacket was gone, removed while he had been unconscious. They must have taken it while retying his hands in front of him, although the purpose of this action was a mystery.

For the first time the three men turned their attention to him. The largest swaggered towards Merlin, planting his hands on his hips and staring down at him with a sneer "That pain you're feeling about now? That's from the bolt in your shoulder, poisoned it was. Don't worry it won't kill you though, we still need you. See, your friends believe you have been captured by slavers and are going after the person they believe to be you as we speak. Meanwhile, tomorrow we will send you to take a message back to Camelot for us. But for now we really aren't interested in listening to yer yapping" He pressed two fingers to Merlin's forehead "Onslaep nu".

Merlin was powerless to resist the spell the man draped over his mind and sank into an enchanted sleep full of nightmares.

. . .

The next time Merlin opened his eyes he was feeling a little dizzy, panic flooding through him as the memories of what had happened came back. Arthur and the other's were in danger! The man who had put him under using magic was crouched down beside Merlin. "You awake? Good. Now, we're going to send you running back home where you will tell them that your King and his Knights have strayed into Queen Jezebel's kingdom and as a result been taken prisoner. This has been seen as an act of war, and that the Kingdom of Camelot should expect the appropriate retaliation.

It occurred to Merlin how easy it would be to kill them and then follow and rescue Arthur and the Knights. But then it also occurred to him that that wasn't really true: he could barely move on his own, and when he did it hurt. Recalling how the man had said the bolt had been poisoned Merlin felt his heart sink. He may be stubborn, powerful, and determined, but he couldn't lay siege to an entire castle in this condition. No matter how much he hated it, his best chance was to get back to Camelot and warn them.

"Hurry up Stan, we need to follow them. Make sure we get our reward for our services." said a third man, who unlike the other two was rather skinny and spoke with a wheezy voice that for some reason instantly irritated Merlin.

The man named Stan glanced at the skinny man, "Don't tell me what to do". Seizing Merlin by the back of his shirt he dragged him across the clearing to where the slavers three horses had been tethered and hauled him easily up onto a handsome ivory stallion.

"Why are you sending him on my horse!" burst out the thin man at once, his voice just a winey as a small child's.

"Because you irritate me more than Sam," said Stan who Merlin had guessed was the leader of their little motley crew of three.

"Aren't you going to untie me?" Asked Merlin weakly, sagging forwards in the saddle.

"No." Taking the reins Stan clicked his tongue, petting the agitated horse's neck to calm him. Leaning in he whispered something in the horse's ear and his eyes flashed gold, "Hang on tight Merlin." he drawled, "We wouldn't' want you to fall off too soon". He stepped back, releasing the stallions harness, and it was all Merlin could do to hang on as it lunged forwards, galloping back towards Camelot and away from Arthur.

Gwaine had been lingering in the courtyard for almost a day since they had returned, and was toying with the idea of disobeying both Gaius and Gwen's orders to ride out and find the others. In addition to the half day he had when first parting from the other knights it had had taken almost an entire day and a half of riding to reach Camelot, and he had been pacing in the courtyard for hours since. He had just decided that concussion and orders or not, he would set off to meet the others when he heard shouts and the sound of hooves. A jolt of relief was quickly doused when he realized that it was only one horse, and if it were the knights there would be at least six. Besides, it was unlikely they would be back so quickly.

An ivory stallion burst through the gate, a figure sagging forward in the saddle and barely keeping himself in place. The horse slowed to a trot as it approached the centre of the courtyard, and the person he now recognized as Merlin slid limply out of the saddle, landing on his back, his hands tied in front of him. The horse wasn't in very good shape either, eyes rolling and its flanks heaving, soaked with sweat as though it had run for miles without stopping. There was crimson blood staining its shoulder, a violent contrast to the ivory of its coat. Alarmed Gwaine dashed over, and upon seeing the dark stain on Merlin's left shoulder realized that the blood on the stallion's neck was from him. One side of Merlin's face was also crusted with blood from a nasty gash on his forehead, though thankfully that blood wasn't fresh.

Gwaine dropped to his knees beside his trembling friend, "Merlin!" Merlin didn't respond, his forehead glistening with sweat. Gwaine felt a jolt of alarm, quickly pulling aside Merlin's neckerchief to feel for a pulse and sighing with relief when he found one; although it was weak and rather unsteady. His relief quickly vanished however when he felt how warm his skin was, and placing a hand on Merlin's forehead he realized that he had a burning fever. A crowd was gathering by now and Gwaine easily scooped Merlin up into his arms, the crowd parting for him as he rushed him to Gaius's quarters.

. . .

Cutting open Merlin's shirt, Gaius exposed the shoulder injury, "It's a shoulder wound so the bolt missed anything of real importance, but he has lost a lot of blood and by the look of him it seems to have been poisoned." Gaius took a knife and severed the bonds around Merlin's wrists, exposing raw and chaffed skin where the rope had constantly rubbed against it. "It seems as if he's been wounded like this for a little less than three days."

"He's not in danger of dying though, right?" said Gwaine anxiously, standing on the other side of Merlin from Gaius.

"He has lost a lot of blood, and from his symptoms I believe the poison to be of the Judas tree, slow working but extremely painful. I will have an antidote ready within a few hours, but if we work quickly we can save him. Although I cannot be sure how long it will take him to wake up, he is very weak."

"Why isn't he dead?"

"Would you prefer him to be so?" snapped Gaius, his anxiety making him peevish.

"Of course not!" said Gwaine hurriedly. "All I'm saying, is there must be a reason. There is no way he could have escaped like this on his own, so they let him go. It's obvious this must have been some sort of trap, and a clever one too. Not many people would know that Arthur would go after his servant if he was taken, or appeared to be. It looked pretty convincing, fooled me completely."

Gaius nodded, "We'll have to wait till he wakes up to know Merlin's side of the story, I have no doubt it will be very insightful."

Gwaine looked at Merlin anxiously, imagining all the worst scenarios.

Suddenly without any warning Gwen burst into the room, making them both jump. "I just heard what happened," rushing over she nudged Gwaine aside, taking in Merlin's faint shivering and sweat soaked shirt. Anxiously she laid a hand on his forehead, smoothing his damp hair away from his face. "He's going to be okay though, right?"

Nodding Gwaine ran one hand through his luscious hair like he sometimes did in times of stress, "Gaius says he will recover. Whoever attacked him didn't want him dead, or else they would have given him something other than a shoulder wound, and not let him go in the first place."

Biting her lower lip in anxiety Gwen fetched the pitcher of water from the dining table and soaked a clean cloth in the lukewarm water, laying it across Merlin's forehead.

"Gwaine," said Gaius holding out a pail, "hand me those bandages on the table there and fetch some fresh water."

Though many would have protested, saying that they were a Knight and such things were below them, Gwaine took it without hesitation and hurried from the room.