A/N: Well well well look who's back. Yeah, I know, its been a while hasn't it. And that is the reason why this first chapter is going up even though I have yet to come anywhere close to finishing this story. Actually, I really don't know how long or even where exactly this story shall go. I kinda just come up with something I want to see happen then rationalize it and make it logical and come up with consequences for it. Then the story just kinda evolves from there or maybe it'll be short and end quickly. Who knows. I certainly don't. Hahaha (yes this is also how I wrote At A Loss For Words so its just the way I do things). Anyway, I'll shut up now. Hope you enjoy this first chapter!

"You shut your mouth boy!" The bandit growled as his meaty hands reached for Merlin's throat. Arthur could only watch helplessly as the bandit moved to unleash his fury upon his servant.

Merlin really did need to learn when to keep his mouth shut. Especially now.

They had been out on one of their apparently well-know hunts. Yeah, it seemed all the stories they told that led to them being in such compromising positions started with those words. The standard hunting-trip-gone-wrong applied this time too. And the bandits had literally come out of nowhere, despite what Merlin might say to the contrary. His servant had laid claim to 'funny feelings' and 'mysterious noises' which really were just the idiot's way of saying "I don't want to be here so can we just go home now". And of course Arthur had brushed these claims aside, thinking his servant was just up to his regular excuses again. Boy, had he been wrong.

Yes yes for once Merlin had been correct. There had been reason to be alert and wary. But Arthur would rather eat horse dung than to admit that out loud, especially to his idiot servant.

The bandits had outnumbered them six to one and with Merlin's infamous skill with a sword, they didn't stand a chance. Still Arthur had managed to take down six bandits before they had managed to subdue him. And it was only because some low-life bandit had managed to give Merlin a blow to the head and held a dagger to his throat, threatening to water the ground with his blood if Arthur didn't surrender immediately. What was he supposed to do? He didn't really feel like having to search and train a new servant. And maybe, just maybe he liked having Merlin around and the banter and jibes the young man provided as entertainment. And the way he wouldn't take shit from him no matter his status nor the threats Arthur dangled above his head. He made Arthur a better person.

Again the rather-eat-horse-dung-than-admit-it applied there too.

But that's also what led to the idiot's current problem. He had let his mouth run, like he did every day with Arthur, though here aimed at the bandits, it was less endearing and slightly hostile, meant to anger and rile the men that had captured them and really, could Merlin be any more of an idiot? This was not the time. If Arthur didn't know any better he would have thought Merlin was trying to keep the bandit's attention and anger on him. But that would be ridiculous. The boy couldn't be that stupid, could he?

But there he was, the bandit's rage-filled eyes set upon his pale face as he sat bound to a tree on the outskirts of the camp and completely at the man's mercy. And all Arthur could do was watch from where he sat across from Merlin, similarly bound and restrained.

Meaty hands closed around Merlin's throat, as the young man opened his mouth no doubt to hurl another insult at the enraged bandit. Merlin's eyes widened slightly as his air supply was cut off and began to thrash in his bonds, trying in vain to throw the bandit off.

Arthur was shouting, not pleading or begging but hurling insults of his own in order to attract the bandit's attention away from his servant. But the bandit had eyes only for Merlin.

It wasn't until the man began using his hold on Merlin's throat to repeatedly slam the servant's head against the hard surface of the tree, that Arthur became desperate. Never in his life had he ever needed nor wanted to seek help from his captors but the situation was dire.

So he swallowed his pride and started yelling to the surrounding camp of bandits for help. Anything to keep the man from killing his friend—servant! He was just his servant. Wasn't he?

Finally another bandit arrived and Arthur almost breathed out in relief as the man ran over to pull his comrade away from the young servant. But his view was of Merlin was abstracted by the two men and until he saw Merlin's idiotic grin, he wasn't going to let himself feel any relief.

"Carlin! Carlin, stop! He's out mate! You got your revenge! Stop!" The newest arrival yelled, struggling with the first bandit—Carlin—and finally managing to yank the enraged man away from the servant and down onto the ground.

And Arthur's view of Merlin was finally unobstructed.

The first thing Arthur frantically searched for was a sign of life. Merlin's eyes were closed, body limp, slumped, and devoid of any movement. For a few seconds, Arthur was unable to locate any and panic began to set in, the likes of which he had never felt before. Not even when his father had been mortally wounded. But he soon sighed in relief as he made out the slow rise and fall of his servant's chest. He was breathing. That was at least something. But he was clearly unconscious, bruises already blooming around his neck—at least where his absurd neckerchief had fallen down—and a splattering of blood painted the tree where his head had connected with it. That had Arthur worried all over again.

"Did you hear what he said?!" Carlin screamed once he had regained his footing, pointing an accusing finger at the unconscious black-haired boy.

The other bandit shook his head, giving a huff of frustration. "You can't let him get to you so easily, mate. Just ignore him." Carlin let out a growl of hatred, stepping toward Merlin again but the other bandit clasped a hand in his shoulder, halting him in his tracks. "Or gag him. It don't matter you just can't kill him yet. Boss' orders."

Carlin took a deep breath. After a few moments he nodded still not taking his eyes off Merlin's form. He reached into his boot and after much struggling freed a dirty ragged strip of cloth. No, Arthur amended, not a strip of cloth. The man's sweaty dirty sock. He winced knowing exactly what the man intended to do with it. He wanted to protest but knew if it were to have any effect on Carlin, it wouldn't be in Merlin's favor.

Carlin sneered as he balled up the sock and jammed it into Merlin's mouth before gagging the servant with his own neckerchief.

Carlin gave Merlin a kick to the thigh, ignoring Arthur's protest before striding away, a smirk marring his face. Arthur scowled. He needed to get over there and check Merlin. He needed to ensure Merlin didn't have any life threatening injuries or he didn't bleed out. Head wounds could be tricky and bleed profusely. Merlin could very well die without treatment before morning.

"Hey!" Arthur yelled, trying to get the attention of the bandit who came to Merlin's rescue. The man cocked his head then turned, surprise flashing across his face as he seemed to notice Arthur for the first time. Then he frowned, crossing his arms in annoyance but didn't make a move to leave. "He'll bleed out if his head isn't tended to. Let me see to him," Arthur bit his tongue not wanting to plead but knowing it was necessary to show he wasn't going to try anything funny. "Please."

The bandit gave a bark of a laugh. "You really think I'm going to fall for that?"

"I promise I won't try anything. Just let me help—."

"Not gonna happen, your majesty," the bandit interrupted with a sneer and a shake of his head. But his eyes betrayed his hesitation. Arthur could practically hear the thoughts racing through the man's head. He had said they weren't allowed to let Merlin die, at least not yet. Their boss had ordered it. So he had to at least attempt to tend to the servant's injury or risk the wrath of the leader. And from the expression on the man's face, Arthur was willing to bet the bandit would do anything to avoid the latter.

"Please," Arthur tried one more time. And he noticed each time he pleaded it became a little bit easier to stomach. Yes, he still felt sick for having to practically beg his captors, like he was betraying all of Camelot and his right to be king by doing so. But he wasn't, he was trying to save his servant's life, one of his people. And it was his duty, as king, to protect his people. Really, he was just doing his duty.

"No," the bandit replied, voice breaking through Arthur's thoughts, bringing him back to the task at hand. But even as he spoke those words, the bandit moved towards Merlin. Arthur shouted out in alarm, thinking the man was just going to kill his servant then and there and let that be the end of things, the leader's orders be damned. He struggled in his bonds, the rope around his wrists biting, digging, burning into his skin in his attempt to escape them and reach Merlin. But it was futile. The rope wasn't going to give.

He watched helplessly as the man withdrew a dagger from his belt and knelt in front of Merlin, once again obstructing the king's view of his servant. Arthur was yelling again, insults and pleas alike blending together until the words were barely distinguishable in themselves.

"Shut up you insolent man!" the bandit yelled, glaring over his shoulder at Arthur before moving aside slightly so the king could see what he was doing. And Arthur was shocked into silence.

The bandit had cut off a strip of fabric from the hem of Merlin's tunic and was now crudely wrapping it around the young man's head. It was a shoddy job and probably wouldn't be much help in stopping the blood flow entirely, but Arthur deemed that it should at least be enough to slow it down so that Merlin's risk of dying from blood loss would decrease. At least Arthur hoped so. He was no physician but what choice did he have at this moment. Any help was better than none.

"There," the bandit stated not even giving his handiwork a once over as he stood and turned around. "Happy now, sire?"

"No, not really. Release us and I'll be happy."

The bandit cocked an eyebrow. "Do you really wanna go down this road, sire?" He gestured toward where Merlin was still unconscious. "Could always undo what I have done if you are not happy. I could call Carlin back out here and he—."

"No, I'm happy. I'm happy" Arthur said, the words coming out somewhere between a growl and a sigh of resignation. It was killing him how reliant he was upon his captors. He hated feeling so dependent and vulnerable. That's not how a king should feel.

The bandit nodded once with a smirk then strode away, disappearing into a tent further in the camp.

Arthur's attention snapped back to his servant. His eyes roamed up and down the young man's body, searching for any previously overlooked injuries or trauma. But the only noticeable damage he could locate had already been seen to, no matter how poorly. Besides, there was very little he could do even if he did find more. Merlin would just have to hold out until Arthur discovered a way out.

And with those thoughts, Arthur sat back, resigned to a sleepless night spent watching over his servant and searching his mind for any means to get them both out of there alive.

Arthur woke abruptly, body and mind on high alert. Something had pulled him from the depths of sleep—though, he cursed to himself, he hadn't meant to fall asleep in the first place—and he immediately began searching the dark forest around him for any hint of danger.

But he found nothing out of place. At least nothing he could see within the meager light the fire in the center of camp provided him with. No danger to be had except for the predicament they were already in. His body sagged a little in relief.

And then jumped to attention again as he remembered exactly who was in this predicament with him.

Merlin was where the bandits had left him last, still bound and slumped against the tree. The blood had dried on the bark, creating a menacing stain on the trunk to float just above his servant's head like a warning. A warning that had been well received.

But, to Arthur's relief, Merlin was no longer unconscious. His eyes were just starting to open, though they were completely unfocused and glazed.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, not wanting to startle his servant and also wanting to keep his voice down in order not to aggravate the killer headache he knew the young man would be sporting.

Merlin didn't appear to have heard him, his eyes now blinking several times as his brain became more and more awake. But he hadn't made any attempt to move at all, still trying to get his vision to work.

A sudden horror crossed Arthur's mind. What if Merlin couldn't move? Or see? What if the damage done to his head had been so severe that it had damaged his brain? Arthur had heard of such a thing from one of his many days spent in Gaius' chambers when he was a boy and his father shooed him away. Men having taken such a hard blow to the head that it left them without certain abilities. Like movement, sight, or hearing.

"Merlin," Arthur said louder this time, almost frantic as his fear momentarily got the better of him.

Merlin's head snapped up, eyes still dazed and unfocused but able to find Arthur's face well enough that the king no longer feared him to be blind. And he had moved, so that too was a good sign.

Those thoughts were completely wiped from Arthur's mind as, in the next second, Merlin's whole face scrunched up in pain and a muffled cry permeated from behind the gag still firmly in his mouth.

Arthur winced, knowing he was the one who had caused his servant's pain this time, startling the young man and causing him to move much too quickly after the beating his head had taken.

There was no doubt in Arthur's mind that Merlin had a concussion. The question of its severity remained to be seen.

"Breathe Merlin, just breathe through it. It'll be ok," he soothed.

But it wasn't. Arthur could see what was going to happen a few seconds before it did. Merlin's pained face suddenly turned horror stricken, eyes widening and throat convulsing. He was going to throw up.

And the gag was obstructing its escape.

A/N: And there you have it, the reason this story came to life. "I wonder what would happen if you threw up while gagged..." and this story was born. My mind is a very strange place. But hey, let me know what you think so far. Reviews are what keep me going, and keep me motivated. I'll try to update every week but if you journeyed with me through updating At A Loss For Words then you know that doesn't always happen. Life can get in the way. But I'll try my very hardest. For now though, as always have fun, be safe, and don't die.