Hi! Been a while. It's not TTW, but it's something. I will finish that, I swear. Until then, this has been rattling around in my head. Enjoy!

Bre, if you're reading this, go away. Love you.

Captured

It took them two days to find them. Merlin had been missing for three days. They'd had to split up after they got two different leads. Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon. Percival and Elyan. Percival and Elyan rode hard ahead to the next village they were supposed to go to. While Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon took a wider path between the villages to see if they could catch up to them faster.

The tracks weren't hard to follow. There were a lot of them. They all agreed there were probably fifty or more men in total. It was going to be harder to break him out.

Leon and Gwaine trailed behind Arthur as they crept up to the large cell. It was wrought iron on all sides; even the floor was metal. There was a single door with a large, heavy lock on it. It sat on a wagon that they'd hitched to a fallen tree so the mercenaries could care for the horses. Right now, Merlin had been left alone in the cell while they ate around the fire several yards away. This was their only chance.

Arthur wrapped his fingers around the bars, whispering. "Merlin!"

The young man had been sitting at the front end, knees drawn up and his face pressed against his forearm. At his voice, his head snapped up and looked around with panic in his eyes. He hadn't seen him this close up in days, and Arthur's heart ached at the bruises on the side of his face and the cut on his lip. It looked like he hadn't been fed or given any water. His clothes were filthy; there were clods of dirt in his hair. The metal circlet around his neck looked painful.

"We're going to get you out, Merlin," Gwaine said seriously, fiddling with the lock.

"No," he hissed, crawling over to them. His fingers wrapped around the bars near Arthur's. "There's too many of them—you have to leave. Please."

"Not without you," was his only response.

Merlin glanced at Gwaine and Leon before resting his fingers on his friend's hands. His eyes were starting to sparkle with tears. He could see the tremble in his shoulders. "Listen to me, these aren't normal mercenaries. They're slave traders. For sorcerers. Please, you need to leave. I can't do anything—"

"Merlin, c'mon—"

"—Arthur, I'm a sorcerer. I'm a dirty, disgusting sorcerer. And you're not safe here. You need to leave, please. I deserve whatever's coming. I'm a sorcerer."

He finally ran out of breath, and Arthur's lungs weren't working whatsoever.

"Do you see this band?" he asked quietly, putting one hand against the collar. "It's to keep my magic in. I can't use it much. You have to leave. Leon, Gwaine, please get him out of here. I'll use magic to cover your tracks, please. It's going to hurt, but you have to keep going."

Gwaine had since come around, brow furrowed. "Merlin, we're not leaving without you."

The servant looked like he wanted to scream. A tear trailed down his cheek, cutting through the grime. "Please! I can't get you killed, too. Please."

One of the bandits yards away was calling.

"Go!" Merlin hissed. "Go, please! Arthur, I'm so sorry. Guys, I'm so sorry. Please, leave!"

He didn't feel Leon's hand on his arm, tugging him along. He didn't feel the mud slipping under his boot. He didn't know how long they ran for, but eventually they took shelter behind a massive boulder.

The only thing he could hear was Merlin screaming.

"D'ya try to escape again?"

Merlin panted as he crouched on all fours, sputum on his lower lip. He looked the way his friends had gone, relief almost overwhelming him as he saw he'd successfully covered their tracks. He coughed into his hand. His throat burned.

"Something like that," he bit out.

"What the hell was he talking about?" Arthur hissed. He paced between the trees, plucking at his gloves, emotions roaring within him. "He's not a sorcerer—"

Leon fussed with his curls, sighing. "Arthur—"

"I would know! He was just saying that to keep us safe. That's not going to work. We're going to get him out of there."

"Arthur—"

"No," he continued. "There's no way."

"Arthur, for god's sake, slow down," Gwaine nearly yelled. Now a kilometer away, they weren't in danger of being overheard. "He has magic. I thought you knew."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I checked behind us, Arthur," Leon cut in. "He did as he said he would. Our tracks disappeared as quickly as we made them. There's no other explanation."

"He doesn't have bloody magic!"

"There's little point in denying it, Arthur." Gwaine pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was drunk, but I swore he was throwing plates when we first met in that tavern. Without his hands. I thought that you knew, and that it was just a secret you two had so your father wouldn't... you know."

Arthur had stopped pacing and threw off his sword belt. "So you knew? You knew, and you didn't say anything?"

"What did you want me to say?" he barked. "Again, your father would have had him burned. I thought you knew about him."

"And you didn't know?" the king pointedly asked Leon.

The knight shook his head. "No, sire."

Arthur let his head drop as he let out a harsh breath. He clenched his fists at his sides. He'd never been good at emotions—that's what Merlin was good at. And now he had to sort it through himself. Betrayal. Merlin was a sorcerer. For god knows how long. Anger. His best friend had kept a huge secret from him. A huge, bursting, traitorous secret. What else had he done? Despair. Said best friend was in the hands of dangerous mercenaries and faced a probably dangerous end. Distress. Because why was he screaming? Gods, what was that scream?

"What's the plan, Arthur?" Gwaine asked hesitantly. "We have to rescue him."

Arthur scrubbed at his eyes. "We rescue that idiot."

"And the magic?"

"We'll get to that, Leon," he responded quietly. "I wanna hear it from him."

When Merlin woke up, they were on the move again. He was lying on his side, curled up. There was no reason to look up, or out. It would be the same thing. Surrounded by mercenaries with weapons that brought pain. And he couldn't do anything about it. Not with this damn band around his throat. Digging into him.

Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon should be far away by now, and the warlock was both so relieved and utterly crushed. They probably hated him. Arthur for sure. He was Merlin's reason for living. And now even he was gone. He truly was getting everything he deserved.

The nausea rolling around within him made his stomach churn. He wrapped his arms around his middle and moaned, trying to breathe deeply. He clenched his eyes shut, praying it would pass. The uneven road made it more difficult to focus on his breathing.

"Are you awake? Merlin?"

The warlock all but flinched. He rolled over and saw a certain long haired mercenary looking back at him. One that wasn't actually a mercenary.

"Gwaine!"

"Hey there, Merls."

He grabbed the bars, terror battling for dominance over the nausea. "What're you doing here? You got away! Why did you come back?"

The lighthearted smile on his face instantly fell, and his brow pinched. "I told you, we're not leaving without you."

"No, please," Merlin dropped his head onto the floor of the cell. Tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn't let Gwaine get killed. He was supposed to be far away. He couldn't lose him. He couldn't, couldn't—

A hand settled on his head, steady despite the moving cart. "It's going to be alright, my friend. We're going to get you out of here."

"It's not me I'm worried about," he said thickly. The hand shifted, ruffling his hair before it pulled back. "What if you get hurt? My fault."

"Not your fault," he said seriously. "And besides, I'll be fine."

"And what about my magic, Gwaine? I have magic."

"And?"

"And you're a knight of Camelot and I'll be killed if I go back."

"You won't," he promised. "Arthur wants to hear everything from you before deciding anything. But he won't harm you. He's just hurt."

"...and you?"

"I just want you out of there, Merlin," he said. "You're still you. That's all that matters. You're literally in a cage, and all you're worried about is us."

The warlock sighed and slumped against the bottom of the cage. "I'm sorry, Gwaine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry for everything."

"It's alright. I promise. I just wish I could have helped you, but I'm not upset at you. I swear it."

There was honesty in his voice and in his smirk. Hope flickered in Merlin's heart that maybe he hadn't lost all his friends. Another flash of nausea and pain hit him and he groaned and curled in on himself.

"Merlin?"

He let out a harsh breath, trying to remember to breathe. "'m fine. H-how are you here?"

"Like how am I now the most handsome mercenary here?"

The warlock let out a pained chuckle. "Yeah."

"I picked a fight with some of them in the last town they went into. I lost, but I put up a good fight, and caught their attention. They offered me a job. Went perfectly."

"What about Arthur and Leon?" he asked more hesitantly. Merlin didn't look at him, but he could hear the determination in his voice.

"Arthur and Perce are trailing us at a distance. Leon and Elyan have ridden to Nemeth for reinforcements in the king's name. They should be here in the next few days. That's when we're getting you out. I'm just here to keep an eye on you until then."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

"And what if Nemeth doesn't come?"

"Then we figure out something else."

Another wave hit him, and he let out a strangled cry as his veins lit with fire. It felt like his blood had turned to oil and the flames were licking his whole being. It was happening again. His magic fighting against the band. The band fighting back. And now Gwaine had to watch it. He wrapped his fingers around the band, tears trailing down his cheeks as he pulled.

"Breathe, Merlin," Gwaine hissed. "Breathe, breathe."

"—hurts."

"I know, I know. Please, Merlin, in and out, in and out."

The wave died down just a little, and the warlock was able to pull in a sharp breath. It only seemed to intensify the pain for a moment, but he let out a slow, jagged exhale. He repeated the process. Again and again and again until he was left panting and hanging onto consciousness.

"You gotta tell me what's going on, my friend," Gwaine said in a shaky voice.

Merlin swallowed thickly, hesitantly letting go of the band as if he could control it. "I-it's the band. It suppresses my magic, b-but my magic isn't normal magic, it's powerful. It's fighting back. I'm just in the middle. It makes everything inside hurt so much, Gwaine..." He let out a long breath as the wave finally ended. "I—I think this is what it feels like to be burned."

The last part was said in such a flat, hollow voice, that Merlin could feel himself giving up. He thought Gwaine must hear it, too, because he felt that hand in his hair again.

"Get some rest, Merlin. Everything's going to be okay."

The hand stayed in his hair, gently scratching, and Merlin lost his battle to stay awake.

Gwaine stayed close. It was already a risk to stay near his friend without drawing attention, but he couldn't leave him alone. Not after what he'd seen. Merlin was still too pale. His skin was clammy and cool, but there was a sickly blush in his cheeks. The cage rattled along, and Gwaine stayed close.

The knight was only a few steps away when the cart slowed an hour later. Merlin shifted and slowly, ever so slowly, pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Good morning, sunshine," Gwaine smirked. He could see the pain in the way his friend moved—the way his limbs shook and his arms could barely hold his meager weight; the way his eyes stayed clenched shut against the sunlight.

Merlin just hummed in response.

The leader of the mercenaries stood up from his stop at the front of Merlin's cart and turned around to face the rest of the crew. "We stop here for tonight."

Short and sweet. The mercenaries broke off in groups, some to the right, some to the left, gathering supplies from some of the other carts behind them. The burly leader climbed down from the cart and immediately pointed at Gwaine.

"You're in charge of the sorcerer tonight." He went around to the back and placed the key in the lock before ripping the door open. "Keep a close eye on him. He tried escaping more than once."

And then he just walked off.

Leaving Gwaine alone with his best friend.

He looked at Merlin, still in the cage, with a thinly veiled grin. The warlock looked like he was barely holding back a broad smile himself. It was about time he caught a break.

"Let's get you out of there, Merls."

"Ha ha."

He carefully edged his legs around and scooted himself to the door. He let his legs hang for a moment, and Gwaine resisted the urge to help. The servant slid off the lip of the cart, and his knees immediately buckled. Gwaine leapt forward and caught him before he could fall, supporting him as he gained his footing. Merlin swore under his breath, and Gwaine could feel his limbs shaking.

"Take it slow," Gwaine said softly. His whole heart hurt for him. "It's alright."

"I hate this, Gwaine."

The knight tentatively let go of Merlin's arms, relief running through him when he stood on his own. "Well, you can't sit around all day and expect your limbs to work."

"The past several days, in fact."

"Arthur was right—you are a lazy dolt."

That got a slight chuckle out of him. "You know, if Arthur knew exactly how much I did for him, magical and non magical, he wouldn't ever say that."

Gwaine led him to a fallen tree and carefully lowered him down to rest against it.

"Oh yeah?" he said, curiosity piqued. He started brushing away some fall leaves and picking up sticks to use as kindling. "Please go on, good sir."

"Hmm, bandits and thieves and sorcerers and assassins," he drawled, head falling back to rest against the log. "I have plenty of stories for you, my friend. You're... you're truly okay with this?"

"I'm truly okay with you having magic, Merlin."

"It's treason. I could be killed for just breathing."

"Not while I'm on watch."

After Gwaine had started a fire and he'd gathered them some food and water, Merlin started on his stories. And Gwaine learned more and more about his friend. His amazing, powerful, self sacrificing friend. He'd only gotten through a handful of them before his eyes were falling shut. He kept dropping off sentences and coming back.

"Go to sleep, Merlin," he offered quietly.

"No, I... I want to tell you."

"Tomorrow."

"Feels so good to tell someone."

Gwaine frowned. Of course. No one else knew. Besides Gaius. But this was different. Having a friend know was different.

"You can tell me more tomorrow, okay?"

"Hmm." He blinked and peered at him through glossy eyes. "I can't believe you know. And that you don't hate me."

"I could never hate you, Merlin."

"Yeah, but..." He shifted, hand tracing the metal collar around his neck. "I... I was starting to think I'd never tell anyone. I thought if I did... everything would change. And I didn't want anything to change. I thought... I thought you'd at least be disappointed in me, in the best case scenario. Shun me. Or banish me. And worst case, I'd be killed. For just being who I am. And I can't... I can't believe you know. And that I can talk about this."

Gwaine gave him a small smile. There were so many things he wanted to say, but none of them felt quite right. Things were going to change, but Gwaine would make sure it was for the better. He could never shun him. Never let anyone kill him. And, of course, Merlin could talk to him about anything.

"Drink some more water," he said instead. He reached over and ruffled his friend's hair, a silent reassurance in itself. "Then you need to get some sleep. How's the collar?"

"It's okay right now. Just little sparks now and then."

"I would rip that thing right off you, if I could."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I wish I could do more."

"You're... Gwaine, you infiltrated a mercenary band to make sure I'm okay. You've stayed by my side the whole time. You caught me when I fell. You're taking care of me. You don't hate me. You've forgiven me. You're listening to me. I can't... Gwaine, you're doing so much. You just being here means the world to me. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come back..."

Gwaine sighed and tilted his head, using a stick to poke the fire. He really didn't want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't come either. Merlin surely would have fully lost all hope. He didn't like what that meant. And he was seeing a brand new side of Merlin through his stories. Ones where he was just a little too self sacrificing.

"Well, I'm going to stay by your side," he said finally. "And, because I know you need repetition, I don't hate you, and I'm not disappointed in you. You're my best friend. Now, please, get some sleep."

Merlin's dreams turned to nightmares which turned to pain. His whole chest hurt. He couldn't breathe.

"—wake up!"

The warlock jerked awake to find that his nightmares weren't just nightmares. His chest was an inferno; there was fire in his throat like lightning. His skin was burning, and warm tears leaked out of his eyes. His whole body was tight and tense. One hand went to the collar. The other hand fisted his friend's tunic.

"Gwaine... Gwaine."

"I'm here, Merlin, I'm here."

He heard his friend swearing and felt him try to tug on the collar. But everything he tried just made it hurt more. The fire roared, and Merlin clenched his eyes shut.

Merlin cried out, and he felt Gwaine's hand back off. Instead, both his arms came around him and pulled him close. He could smell smoke from their burned out fire and feel his softened-by-washing tunic against his forehead. He could feel the movement as Gwaine started rocking him back and forth. Merlin tried to focus on those details despite the torment.

"Breathe," Gwaine whispered. "It's almost over. It's almost over."

Thankfully, he was right. It died down quickly, and Merlin felt himself go boneless in his friend's arms, still crying. Gwaine kept rocking him anyway, whispering reassurances and stroking his hair. Merlin's hands twisted in his tunic, trying to quell the panic.

"I want it off," he said in a shaky breath. His whole body was in pain. "I want it off so much. I just want this to stop. Please."

Gwaine paused for only a moment before the rocking continued. "I know, I know. Soon, Merlin. I promise. We'll hear from the others soon, I'm sure of it. And if Nemeth isn't coming, we'll go to the Druids. Or someone. Anyone. I swear."

The warlock just wept.

The attack came at dawn. And it was the shortest battle Gwaine had ever seen.

Sorcerers and knights appeared out of nowhere as the camp woke up. Most of them woke up with a sword to their throat or a sorcerer's outstretched arm. Very few fought. None of them won. Apparently, the reward they were going for meant anything if they were killed. Gwaine didn't even draw his sword, but he stayed close to Merlin anyway.

"Merlin!"

The knight and warlock spun around as Arthur marched towards them. The relief on his face was clear, though Merlin glanced at Gwaine with thinly veiled concern. When their king met them, he wrapped his arms around Merlin and held him tight.

"Thank gods you're alright," he grinned. He pulled back and held him by the shoulders. "How're you feeling?"

Merlin's furrowed brow softened, and a small smile played on his lips. "I've been better," he replied. "How... how are you?"

"Stop worrying about me, you idiot," he joked. He gently shook Merlin's shoulder, tilting his head toward him. His blue eyes were earnest. "We need to talk, but later, okay? After we get back home. And I want the truth, Merlin. Alright?"

The warlock's eyes were filled with tears. "I swear. I'll tell you everything."

Arthur's grin got brighter, and he nodded. And even quicker, his smile fell and his gloved fingers traced the collar on Merlin's throat. "Are you in pain right now?"

"A little," he said thickly.

"Merlin, please," Gwaine cut in, shaking his head. "Arthur, that thing is torturing him. We have to get it off."

The king nodded, empathy coloring his face as he turned. "Princess!"

Gwaine knew they were going to Nemeth for help, but he was still surprised to see the princess heading the small army of men. She wore riding leggings and a long tunic, and there was a sword on her hip. Her brown eyes were sad as she looked at the collar.

"Hello, Merlin," she greeted. "Nice to see you again."

"You too, princess."

"What's with that smile?" Gwaine asked, smirking.

Mithian tilted her head and crossed her arms over her chest, glancing at Arthur humorously. "Yes, Merlin. Anything to say?"

"It was a difficult week last time I saw her," he admitted. He rubbed the back of his head. "Arthur had some... issues with social etiquette. And Mithian said something about how I'm a loyal friend."

"That was you?" Arthur bit out, eyes going wide.

"Loyal friend."

"You?"

"You're meant to be with Gwen! I couldn't let you marry someone else!"

A devilish smile came over Arthur's features. "We're going to have a long, long talk, Merlin. You have a lot of chores to catch up on."

Gwaine could barely hold back his laughter, at both of them. It made his heart soar. This normalcy was just what Merlin needed. Mithian and Arthur were talking about the band of mercenaries when Merlin's fingers found his wrist and squeezed. Gwaine's eyes immediately whipped to him and saw his clenched jaw and the tension in his brow.

"Arthur, the collar," he stated plainly.

He didn't take his eyes off his friend, who's eyes were glazed over. Mithian said something he didn't catch and ran off; Arthur took Merlin's opposite arm and squeezed his shoulder. The warlock was starting to gasp for breath, and his face was quickly reddening. His whole body was tight.

Arthur was clearly distressed and put a hand on Merlin's face to draw his gaze. "Merlin, breathe. C'mon."

"Let's sit him down."

They got him sitting on the log, sandwiched between them as he twitched.

"Arthur," Merlin bit out through gasps. He choked down a cry, clutching both their arms.

Mithian returned with a taller man. He knelt in front of Merlin, who's eyes were still clenched shut in pain. The sorcerer glanced hesitantly at the king.

"Please help him," Arthur said quickly.

Mithian's friend put two fingers on the collar and whispered a string of words. Merlin let out a strangled scream as the band started to glow. Gwaine held him tighter; he saw Arthur put his hand on the back of Merlin's head. The band let out a sharp ringing sound before it cracked in several places. The sorcerer grabbed one of the pieces and threw it away from them; Gwaine and Arthur followed his lead. It left a deep red mark around his throat.

Merlin was left panting, leaning forward while they practically held him up. Arthur's hand stayed on the back of his head, gently scratching.

"He needs to rest, but he'll be fine now," the sorcerer said.

Mithian glanced between them before settling on Arthur. "I'll leave you to it."

Mithian and her friend left to give them space. Merlin was still breathing much too hard and much too fast. Arthur's heart was hurting for him.

"Okay, slow it down, Merlin," he said gently. He still had one hand on his friend's chest, and one hand on the nape of his neck. Obediently, Merlin tried slowing his breathing. "Okay, good job. Now let it out slowly."

The warlock let out a shaky exhale. And then repeated it. Arthur felt pride welling in his chest.

"Good."

"I'm going to get him some water," Gwaine offered, carefully pulling back. "Stay with him?"

"Of course."

He walked off with only small hesitance. Arthur continued to talk Merlin through his breathing. He couldn't help but stare at the red marks left by the collar. Arthur hoped it wouldn't last, and he wished he knew some salve or balm that would help. Merlin would know. He'd ask him once he felt better.

He ran a hand down his back. "Are you okay, Merlin?"

The warlock let out a long exhale, still shaking. "I think so... It's... it's really over?"

Arthur gave him a small smile, ruffling his hair. "Yes, my friend. The collar's gone. No more. It broke, in fact."

Merlin looked like he could collapse from relief. His fingers played against his throat. "It was horrible. I couldn't... I couldn't get it off. I thought... and then I made you all leave, and I thought..."

Tears were leaking out of his eyes when Arthur pulled him against him. Tears were on his own waterline as well because Merlin thought... Merlin thought he'd leave him to that? He couldn't stop thinking about that scream.

"I'm sorry, Merlin, I'm so sorry," he offered. "I wish we could have gotten here sooner. I wish this had never happened to you. You didn't deserve it, Merlin. You didn't. You're not dirty or disgusting, and you did not deserve this."

Merlin sobbed into his neck as Arthur threw back all those words he'd told him days ago, words that he'd been thinking of his entire life. Arthur couldn't stop thinking about them and how much he'd been wanting to reassure Merlin that he was none of that—never. He didn't deserve it.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Arthur," he cried, trembling. "I'm sorry. I wanted to so much, but it never felt like the right time. And I n-never wanted you to learn like t-this. I'm so sorry."

The king shushed him and held him close. "It's okay, Merlin. It's alright. It's going to be okay."

"How can you say that? I've lied to you for so long..." His fingers curled into his tunic even tighter, terrified to let go.

"I know, I know," Arthur whispered. He played with the hair on the nape of his friend's neck. "And I do have feelings about that, and we'll talk, but I've spent a lot of time with Mithian and her sorcerers. I think I understand more now. I think I understand why you'd be scared..."

Merlin stifled a sob; Arthur couldn't imagine what he was feeling. He hoped it was relief.

"You didn't deserve this, Merlin," he said vehemently, "and I'm going to spend as long as it takes to make you believe that."

Arthur wasn't just talking about the last few days. Merlin had been suffering alone for so, so long. Things would be different now.

Things would be better.

Please review if you have a second! Thank you!