Merlin jabbed at the dying fire idly with a stick. Behind him, Arthur gave a loud snore and rolled over on the hard ground, trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep in. The young warlock couldn't help but smile, the first true smile he had displayed in a while.

He sobbed into the darkness but no tears seemed to come. Typical, he thought, I've run myself dry.

The past few hours had been the strangest and traumatising of his life and, as Merlin raised his hand to where the pendant had been hanging he realised something. There was no light at the end of the tunnel; there was no happy future for him. For Arthur. For either of them.

Sighing, Merlin began to remove his muddy boots. The cold air rushed in and caressed his tired feet, stretching them out in front of him by the fire. He almost felt at home. As if everything would be okay again, even though deep down he knew that it wouldn't.

The forest seemed eerily quiet, as if purposefully leaving Merlin to his own thoughts. But they were torturing him, leering at him, telling him to give up on it all. He chanced a look back at the prince, his blonde hair tousled, his face peaceful, the rug around his wrapped up to his neck to keep him warm. Merlin had been truly happy when he was awake; calming him down and telling him that everything would be fine. Now that he was left to keep watch (he had offered, much to Arthur's distress) the night seemed to weigh down on him and cause the emotions he had tried to bury to bubble to the surface once more.

Merlin buried his face in his hands letting the stick fall to the leafy floor. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? A few days ago he was trotting about the castle running errands for Gaius and polishing armour and mucking out horses and wearing stupid hats to fancy dinners. Arthur had been there, always there, like the friend that he had never had and even though they were master and servant there was always that connection that neither of them could explain. The Great Dragon always said that they were 'two sides of the same coin' and that 'each was the others' destiny' but the warlock knew that it was more. Something deep and meaningful inside both of them that, even though they pretended to bicker and snap at each other, they were really friends.

It seemed that, now, they were more than that.

Merlin didn't mind. He had never really been that close to anyone before, except his mother.

The cold night air whipped the leaves of the trees and on the floor whirling them up into small hurricanes that rustled across the forest floor. Merlin decided that he didn't want to be alone anymore. He contemplated waking Arthur up just so that they could talk but that was always a bad idea. 'A prince needs his beauty sleep' he would always tell him before clouting him about the head and sending his servant on his way. That was their relationship. Hidden at all costs.

Merlin almost laughed. He had moved from one secret to another. Now that his magic was out he wouldn't have to be so sneaky about it, but now he and Arthur had developed this new kind of relationship now that would have to be hidden.

"You make me sick."

Merlin dropped his hands down and raised his head. Had he really just heard that? Someone whispering through the trees? Talking to him? He tried to mentally laugh it off, just his imagination. He was stressed and tired and he was just hearing things.

Two large orange orbs seemed to float in the distance and Merlin felt his stomach jolt. Was he being watched? Were those eyes? What sort of creature would have great, big, yellow eyes like that? Within a few seconds they had disappeared and the manservant was staring into the forest at the blackness within. He shook his head and sighed, he was just imagining things.

"You're not hearing things," a voice hissed behind him and before he could move he felt cold hands wrap around his mouth and throat. He tried to call out, his eyes darting about in panic but there was nothing he could do. Fingernails digging into his flesh, hands cutting off his air supply, Merlin started to choke, grabbing behind him at his attacker. But whoever it was was far too quick, they caught Merlin's hands in mid-fling and he felt the rough, coarse rub of a rope being slid over them and tied harshly around his wrists. The hand that had been on his throat had disappeared and when it returned it was holding a grubby piece of cloth which was quickly secured around the back of his head.

Merlin wanted to gag. The material was cutting into his mouth, he was biting at it, trying to rip himself free so that he could shout for Arthur. He needed help, he needed to escape. What were they doing to him?

"If you make a sound I will kill your precious prince right now."

The warlock stopped struggling, letting his head fall back as his captor tugged at his hair. A knife was suddenly at his throat, every movement of the muscles in his neck caused the serrated edges to cut into his skin, drawing blood. The face that looked down at him was hooded, unrecognisable in the dark and yet the smile that was just visible seemed somehow familiar. He had seen that smile on every single man he had used his magic on to destroy. It was the smile of a villain.

"Get up," the man hissed and grabbed the rope holding Merlin's wrists together, pulling him to his feet. "Don't make a sound." Nodding slowly, unable to take his eyes off Arthur's sleeping form, he was lead from the clearing, his bare feet cold and dirty, crunching against the leafy ground.

Waking to the smell of the smouldering fire, Arthur shuffled onto his back and opened his eyes gradually, letting his blue eyes adjust to the light. He sat up slowly; his body still ached from the day before. The Prince noticed it was quiet, he noticed that he couldn't hear anything but birds singing in the trees.
"Merlin?" Arthur looked around, trying to spot his manservant, "MERLIN?" he said it a bit louder this time; he supposed Merlin was probably gathering some more wood. He could feel his heart speeding up as panic set in. Where was he? Surely he couldn't have gone far, Arthur thought, still trying to spot Merlin in the trees.

It wasn't long before Arthur noticed a small piece of parchment underneath a small rock on the ground next to where Merlin had been sitting. He got up, feeling the cold air bite at his skin, and the rough ground scratch at his feet. Trying not to shiver, he walked over and picked up the note that had been left. Arthur read the note over in his head, feeling anger rise as he did. The note had said:

PENDRAGON

WE HAVE YOUR PRETTY LITTLE SERVANT.

WE'RE HOLDING HIM AT OUR CAMP WHICH YOU CAN FIND IN A CAVE, TWO MILES NORTH FROM WHERE YOU ARE. GO IN THE DIRECTION OF THE LARGEST TREE.

ARE YOU WILLING TO GIVE YOUR LIFE FOR HIS?

YOU HAVE UNTIL DUSK.

WE'RE WAITING.

He'd only just got Merlin back; he didn't want to lose him again, of course he was going to go. All he had to do now was figure out which way was north. The note had said something about a large tree, which Arthur assumed was probably the oak tree that was situated to his right. After gathering the things that Merlin had had to leave behind into the satchel, Arthur noticed his manservant's boots, lying on the floor next to the log that Merlin had been sitting on. He decided to try and fit them into the satchel too; rolling them up as tightly as he could, after all, Merlin would need them later.

Arthur pulled on his own boots and finally set off in the direction of the large oak tree, looking for any evidence that Merlin's abductors had passed this way. Luckily, he came across some footprints, and also a trail that suggested something had been dragged along the muddy forest floor.

The Prince walked through the trees carefully and slowly, looking at the floor, searching it with his eyes. He didn't want to become lost, he would never find Merlin if he did. He decided the journey would probably take him to sundown at the rate he was going, but he didn't care as long as he was on time and actually got there in one piece, it was the only way he could save Merlin.

The sun was beginning to set now; it had been hours since Arthur had started the search for the camp where Merlin was being held. Surely I'm nearly there, Arthur thought as he stopped and rested on a tree, trying to figure out where he was. He swore he could feel someone watching him, he swore he could see things moving in the trees. Dark figures. Maybe he was seeing things; he'd been walking for ages, only taking small rests every now and again. He'd even ended up passing the same large rock twice before realising he was probably going the wrong way.

He heard something; voices. He was sure of it this time.

"Show yourself!" Arthur called out, taking the red-jewel encrusted knife out of the satchel.

"Well of course, Prince Arthur," he heard a voice from behind him, shortly followed by a cold, sharp point on the small of his bare back. "How nice of you to come. You must care a great deal about the pretty little servant of yours."

Arthur was helpless, all he had in his hand was a small knife, and he was now surrounded by cloaked, masked figures.

Merlin was lead through the woods in total silence. His eyes had finally become accustomed to the dark that they had been thrown into and they were darting about the surroundings. It was still the forest, he could be sure of that; there wasn't any light from the moon, the only glow was from a few torches that his captors were holding. Two hooded men in strange masks had joined Merlin's original captor, and they had now been equipped with large spears and would point them menacingly at him if he dared turn to look at them.

The sharp sting of one stuck into his back, he could feel it ripping through his jacket, through his shirt and into the skin on his back.

"Keep moving," the man hissed, jabbing Merlin a second time.

"M-tr-inn," the warlock furrowed his brow, trying to speak through the gag.

"And keep quiet."

Merlin rolled his eyes. These guys were pushy, a lot more than the villains and rogues that mucked up the prince's and his manservant's lives ordinarily were. They wanted something, they must've known the inside outs of Arthur and Merlin's day, where they would be, when they had fallen asleep. That Arthur would actually come and rescue Merlin. If they didn't know Arthur they wouldn't know that he was the kind of prince to go out and risk his life and throne just to save the life of a lowly servant.

He laughed, feeling tears prick at his eyes.

"I said keep quiet," another hard poke in the back with the spear. Merlin hissed in pain and began to move a little faster.

"What are we going to do with the wretch, boss?" a voice came from Merlin's right, he tried to turn his head but it was stiff from being forced to face the front for so long. He saw a blurry shape from the corner of his eye, it shifted excitedly, the spear it was holding wobbling precariously in its grip.

"The silence is not just for him to withhold. You need to be silent aswell."

"But boss," the figure protested. "I made some new equipment. I wanted to try it out."

The captor behind Merlin sighed.

"Fine."

There was a small cheer of rejoicing from the man to Merlin's right.

The forest suddenly seemed to stop. It surprised Merlin at first and he almost stopped himself, if it hadn't been for the violent jab in his back telling him to keep moving. There was a small selection of straw houses in front of the gaping mouth of a large cave. The sun had set and yet small children were playing in front of a large bonfire, seemingly happy. It was strange how they seemed so complacent and yet there was a kidnappee standing right near them. Kidnappee? Was that a word?

Merlin had little time to contemplate it as a gruff voice whispered in his ear; "Around the back of the houses, we don't want to make a scene in front of the children, do we?"

The warlock shook his head firmly, unable to take his eyes off of the amazing fire that was flickering away, made even more beautiful by the moonlight that was shining through the clearing. Quickly moving behind the houses, Merlin was quickly ushered into the large cave, further and further in, the wonderful fire, its warmth and welcoming appearance becoming smaller and smaller as they ventured further in.

They reached a strange niche in the centre of the cave, an odd circular shape with what looked like chains upon the ceiling from which were hanging strange rags. They stopped, and Merlin could feel his captors untying the bonds around his wrists, but he could not take his eyes from the chains. He couldn't work out exactly what was hanging from them, and then it hit him. The rags were attached to something else. Bones. Skeletal forms of the men that had once hung from them, left to rot and die. The warlock's eyes darted about him. He didn't want to die in this cave, alone and in the dark. The only light source was the men's torches, and those did nothing to help Merlin's nerves, only cast eerie shadows upon the walls.

"Stay there. If you move we will run you through," his original captor told him, as he moved towards the wall where a large wheel was embedded there. With all his might, it seemed, he spun it and slowly the chains descended from the ceiling. Merlin took a step backwards.

"I said don't move," the man screamed, and within moments his sword was at Merlin's throat.

"M-orry," he tried, raising his eyebrows in an apologetic manner.

"Mm," the man contemplated, staring from deep blue eyes into Merlin's own. The chains had now lowered so that the skeletons' bent and gnarled feet were just brushing against the floor. The other two men, who were still masked, began to unlock the chains about the bony wrists of the figure and, once finished, threw him to one side. His eye sockets seemed to watch Merlin with sickly curiosity.

"Get him in," the un-masked man ordered, and the manservant was quickly thrown forward, the chains tightening around his arms, he felt his body being hauled upwards until, now, his feet were just brushing against the floor. It felt as if his arms were slowly being pulled from their sockets, the pain was almost unbearable.

Even though he had told himself he wouldn't, forced himself to be strong, he began to panic. It flooded over him like water, and he could help but cry out, cry out for Arthur. He called his name once, twice, three times, but all he could feel was the gag slipping further and further into his mouth, causing him to gag.

"No one'll hear you in here," his captor told him, and Merlin could just imagine him smirking. "You're all alone."

Nodding to his colleges, the man picked up his torch- his gang members following suit- and they turned to leave.

"Mmmm!" Merlin cried, trying to get them to stay, but they weren't listening.

"Goodbye young warlock," the man called behind him, his retreating figure waving sarcastically. "Let's hope your precious prince arrives in time otherwise who knows what might happen!"

The light faded away and all Merlin could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat and the rattling of the chains as he struggled to free himself. He was well and truly alone.

Arthur was trapped. He had no way of escaping - not without being impaled upon the blades that were pointing at him and gleaming in the light. He could still feel the coolness upon his bare back, the sharp edge of the knife nicking his skin slightly. The Prince thought about turning quickly and stabbing the stranger behind him with his own knife, but realised this wasn't a smart move. He would be killed by the others in two seconds, and he couldn't risk that. I need to find Merlin, Arthur thought, still trying to calculate any available escape options in his head, but I can't do that if I'm dead. Arthur tensed when he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, which then moved onto his neck. He began to struggle against the grip on his throat, still trying to keep the blade that was being held to the small of his back from digging in.

"Stop moving," a voice hissed in his ear as the grip on his neck tightened, "drop the knife. Do you want to see your servant again?"

Arthur stopped struggling and dropped the knife; at this point he would do anything to see Merlin again.

"Where is he?" the Prince managed to choke out, the hold on his throat had been loosened slightly, but the dagger on his back was held firmer.

"I wonder what your father would think if he found out about him..." the masked figure bypassed Arthur's question, "I wonder what your father would think about you and him. Oh, if only he knew..."

"Where is he?!" Arthur repeated, this time with more anger and hatred in his voice, he was past being reasonable, "I demand that you take me to him!"

The man laughed in amusement at Arthur's anger, it was clearly what he wanted. He obviously wanted to mess with Arthur's head.

"All in good time Prince Arthur," the stranger was now laughing again, but mockingly this time, "men! Restrain the Prince; we don't want him trying to escape again, do we?"

Before Arthur even had time to process the orders the men had just been given in his head, he was being forced to his knees by three hooded figures. Two of them had grabbed his arms and the other one had pushed him down and was now tying his wrists behind his back. The man that was previously stood behind him was now stood in front of him, pointing a sword at the Prince's throat and smiling down at him.

"You know, I could easily kill you right now," he moved the end of the sword to Arthur's chin and forced him to lift his head, "but that would be too easy. Where would the fun be?"

Arthur scowled at him, but said nothing.

"Oh, so you're being quiet now are you?" the man raised an eyebrow, still smiling at the Prince, "does this mean we don't have to make you be quiet? We had to gag your mouthy servant – Merlin's his name isn't it?"

The blonde thought about not saying anything again, but the urge to say something was too strong.

"You better not have hurt him!" Of course, Arthur knew that they probably had; they certainly didn't seem like gentle people.

"And what are you going to do about it if I have, Sire?" whoever this person was, they loved humiliating Arthur, "you're certainly not in any position to make threats. I've heard enough from you Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur was taken aback. But I haven't said hardly anything, he thought.

"Wha-" he was cut short by the man who barked an order at one of his followers.

"Gag him, too. Then get him up and follow me."

Another man moved swiftly towards Arthur, and before he knew it, a piece of fabric was being forced into his mouth and tied tightly behind his head, catching his blonde hair in the knot. It tasted awful. Like dirt, and what Arthur could only think was sweat. He was then pulled to his feet roughly and the two men began to drag him. The Prince was being dragged by his arms along the forest floor; he didn't even have time to find his feet so that he could walk.

It wasn't long before they reached the mouth of a large cave, after passing a lot of small houses, a village even, with people everywhere. Arthur was astonished to see how peaceful these people were, and wondered if they knew what really went on, wondered if they knew that these men liked kidnapping Princes and their servants.

They lead him down a long, black tunnel, only stopping once they reached a large circular area of the cave, only the odd torch lighting it. They threw the blonde to the floor; he winced as the rough ground grazed his bare skin. It was only when he looked up that the Prince saw him. Saw him hanging by his wrists, his feet not even touching the ground. It was Merlin. Arthur tried to look away, but his captor suddenly gripped his face and made him look at his manservant, who was obviously in agony.

"You can free him, Arthur," the familiar voice of his kidnapper whispered in his ear, "all you have to do is take his place."