This is so depressing this is the second chapter now when it was really like the sixth chapter before. Ah, I suck. But yeah. Yay you get two chapters at once. I'm finally past the ones I've already written. But shit, now i've gotta write more. FROM MY MIND. That's a shit load of work. But I suppose it's worth it. Sayonara.

The last thing Merlin remembered was running down the hill to help Arthur who was preoccupied with a bandit who had attacked him. He didn't realize there had been a man sneaking up on him until he turned around and felt an excruciating pain in his stomach. He fell to the ground on his back with a hand on his abdomen in hopes to decrease the blood flowing out of the wound and through Merlin's fingers. It was an odd feeling—feeling yourself bleeding out.

Merlin could practically hear his heartbeat in his ears. Hear it getting slower in speed as black dots clouded his vision. His breathing became shallow and when he looked over to where Arthur had been he could only stare in horror as the king fell to the ground.

"Arthur," he whispered weakly. He coughed and then slipped into the darkness that was overwhelming him.

When Merlin awoke, he was in a large, dank cell. He was flooded with relief when he looked around and saw that both Arthur and Sir Leon were in there with him. And, for the most part, they were unharmed. Leon had a visible bruise on his forehead with some dried blood.

The walls seemed way too close to each other and random tufts of hay laid around the room, like a man who was half bald. It was obvious it had been used before, and Merlin could vaguely detect some hints of blood in the bring prison. Or maybe that was his.

Merlin attempted to crawl over to where his friends lay unconscious but as soon as he tried, he groaned in pain. He looked down to see that his wound was covered up but was not healed. He was too disoriented to even think who may have dressed the stab wound.

Merlin tried to call out Arthur's name but he only accomplished in having a violent coughing fit that wracked throughout his whole his body. He wiped away a small amount of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He arched his back slightly, trying to get more comfortable.

Finally, with all the strength he could muster up, he faintly called out, "Arthur. Arthur!" When he finished, he coughed again and spit up some more blood onto the cold, cement floor. When he looked back at the king, Arthur was slowly sitting up. He squeezed his eyes shut as he reached to back of his head. Then he turned and saw Merlin coughing up a crimson substance and was finally awake.

The sight of his manservant in pain ticked Arthur off. Merlin was so…innocent. Sure he could be very annoying, but this kid did not deserve to suffer. "Merlin? Merlin, are you alright?" Arthur asked.

"Sire! Arthur, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Merlin. I'm more worried about you."

"I'm okay. Maybe you should wake Leon, though. Something's off here and we all should probably be conscious to talk about it."

Arthur was too worried to even make a snarky comment like, "OF course something's off, we're in a cell." He nodded before crawling over to the knight's side. He placed his hands on Leon's unconscious figure and shook gently while saying his name. Finally, Sir Leon woke up only to start fussing about his king. Making sure he was al right, he wasn't hurt, was he sure, and did he need anything to which Arthur denied each and every question.

By the time Arthur and Leon had made it over to Merlin, one of the men that had attacked them burst loudly through the door. "Oi, you!" he yelled out, pointing at Merlin. "Yer gonna have to come with me." He had a scruffy ginger beard that almost looked brown from all the dirt and was that blood?

"What? No! This man is hurt!" Arthur argued. "You will not take him." He was tense, as if he was ready for a fight. Merlin knew he'd have to do something to stop his king as all of their weapons had been taken away and the bandit was way too large for Arthur to stand a chance in his state and without a sword.

"Shut up, prisoner. Or so help me, I'll—" the man tried to say.

"Arthur," Merlin interrupted. "It's fine. I'm fine. It'll be alright," he said as he struggled to get to his feet. After a few seconds, he was standing but using the stone wall for support. He felt lightheaded and the world was spinning a little. "I'll go."

"You most certainly will not!" the king protested, lathing onto Merlin's sleeve, if it was to stop him or steady him Merlin didn't know.

"You can't stop me."

"Merlin, you—what do you want with him?" Arthur asked, turning his attention to the bandit.

"I asked for the other one. You don't need to know what I need from 'im. Or what I do to 'im cos it's none of yer business," the man replied.

"You will not be taking him. I won't let you."

"I gotta grab dis one. My orders have been placed. And I ain't gonna have no pretty boy gettin' in the way."

Arthur shook his head and jumped to his feet. "You. Will not. Take him."

The old man muttered something inaudible to the prisoners, but they all saw his eyes flash gold. Suddenly, the king was thrown into the far wall. He hit with a loud thud! And slumped to the ground. His head lolled to the side.

King Leon looked in surprise at his fallen king and then back to the bandit. "You're a sorcerer?" he said incredulously.

The man only grunted. "You," he repeated, pointing to Merlin once more. "Come on. Or the other one gits it, too. "

"Okay. Leon, wake Arthur up, will you?" the young servant said as he began taking shaky steps towards the door. He slowly slid his hands along the contour of the rocks put into the walls.

"Oi! Shut up and git goin'!"

The knight of Camelot nodded as the bandit took Merlin by the scarf and ushered him harshly through the door. Leon hoped that they wouldn't do anything drastic to the young lad, as he was already injured. But he could never be sure. Especially since these were some dangerous bandits they were dealing with. And they were sorcerers. And all sorcerers were bad, right?

"What are we-what are doing?" Merlin stammered out. He winced at the strong hold the man had and the cloth that was rubbing ruthlessly against his neck as he was pulled along harshly.

"My boss wants to see ya. He wants to talk," the bandit replied gruffly.

"W-why?" The young sorcerer was losing strength. He felt tired and was barely able to walk but the bandit was roughly dragging him along. Merlin heard his shoes scraping against the ground

"Because. He knows something. And he wants to talk to you about it."

"What could he possib-possibly kn-know?"

The bandit brought a harsh hand down threateningly. Merlin flinched, but when he opened his eyes, the hand was stopped a few centimeters from his face, unwavering. "Enough damn questins. Yer gonna see when ya get through the damn door, so leave it be."

The rest of the walk was silent and short. There was very little light; it came from small, square windows high up in the rock corridor, but not wide enough for any type of escape. A few rough minutes later, the two men arrived at a tall, wooden door. The handles were rusting and peeling and there was a dragon shaped door knocker.

At this point in time, Merlin felt so weary and weak, he couldn't even stand anymore. He collapsed to his knees and scraped them on the hard ground.

"Git up, prisoner!" the bandit shouted menacingly.

"I-I can't," Merlin said breathlessly. He could feel the blood seeping through the poor, hastily dressed wound.

"Git. Up. Or do you need some more persuasion? I could always go back to that pretty little blonde boy and…"

"No! Don't you dare touch him. You dare lay o-one finger on him, and I swear—I promise—I will kill you."

"Ah, struck a nerve, have I? Have to keep that in mind. Now, git up. If you do, then your friend will remain unharmed. For now. Up!"

Merlin took a deep breath and forced himself to stand halfway up. The bandit pulled him by his hair the rest of the way. The young warlock grunted and gave a slight cough. He leaned towards the calloused hand on his locks in attempt to loosen the grip and diminish some of the pain.

With a snap of his fingers, the door swung open. "Alright. Walk."

Merlin walked under the arch of stones and what he saw was a long wooden table with various straps placed all around it. The bandit released his hair and shoved him forward to the ground. Merlin fell with a cry, landing on his knees and hands. He tried to push himself up, but was only able to lift his gaze. There was a small stool and…a man. A tall man standing slightly away from a shadowed corner with a table of things that Merlin would rather not find out about.

When he stepped out of the light, the bandit holding Merlin bowed his head slightly, and then left. The tall man—who had to be the boss—nodded back. Then his eyes flashed golden and the door slammed shut.

"Ah, Merlin. Welcome. Have a seat," he said. "and let's talk. I've been waiting a long time for you, Merlin." The young warlock opened his mouth to speak, but all of his energy was gone. He coughed again, and almost fell face first to the stone cold floor, but suddenly there were hands under his armpits, holding him up. "Oh dear. Can't have you in this state. Come on. Sit on the chair."

The mystery man walked over to Merlin, grabbed his left arm, and helped him sit down on the stool. Then he brought over a vial of something he didn't know and water. The man carefully unwrapped the bloodied gauze already there with gentle, skilled hands. Nothing like what he'd expect from the boss of some rag tag group of bandits. He began to clean away the dried blood, wiping a little harder than what was comfortable for Merlin as the blood was crusted over.

"What are y-you d-doing," the sorcerer grunted out painfully, wincing and trying to wriggle away from the hands.

"Well, now. Can't have our wonderful, little warlock dying on us, now can we?"

"W-what did you call m-me?" Merlin stammered out. He couldn't know. He couldn't. The only people who knew about him were the Druids, Gaius, and Lancelot. How in the world could he know?

"That's right, Merlin. Warlock. I said it. I know what you are."

He didn't call me Emrys, though, Merlin thought. Maybe he doesn't know that. Let's hope so.

Before he knew it, Merlin was all cleaned up, but the wound still stung painfully. The man held out the vial he'd seen earlier. "Drink this," he ordered. Merlin shook his head.

"I have no idea what's in that. It could be poison for all I know."

"Oh, it's not poison. If you died now, what fun would that be? I have big plans, Merlin. Big plans." Merlin was still wary. "Oh, very well," the man relented. He pulled a dagger from his back pocket and made a small incision on his forearm. It began to ooze slowly. He uncorked the vial and took a few small drops. The wound began to close. "Okay, Merlin?"

Merlin still wanted to object but the man squeezed his mouth open and drained the liquid into his system. Merlin immediately felt his wounds beginning to closer. He blinked in surprise. Why the hell would this guy be healing him?

"I'll have Blackjack escort you back, now. But don't fret, Merlin. I'll be seeing you again." Suddenly the door burst open and the bandit from before walked in. Blackjack the man called him.

"Who are you?" the sorcerer asked as Blackjack roughly took hold of him again.

"Of course. Where are my manners? My name is Fizbanlan," he said with a half smile, half sneer. "Go ahead, Blackjack. Until another day, young warlock."

Blackjack pulled Merlin by his ascot out of the door. He then led him through the rocky corridor and threw him down in his cell again. He lifted his head to see Arthur awake and crawling towards him. Blackjack slammed the oak door shut and locked it up.

"I'll be back soon," he murmured before walking away.

"What the hell happened, Merlin?" Arthur demanded. Leon was behind him, brow scrunched in concern.

"I don't know," Merlin said. And he meant it. He truly did not know.

I know. I'll write goodbye in like different languages every time up top. Maybe. Idek. But yeah. Same as before. And oh yeah! That disclaimer stuff. I own nothing but I own Fizbanlan and Blackjack. Mah babes. And the other bandits that come in later. Revie, fav, follow, and all that stuff. xoxo, doves.