Merlin - Silence
Title: Silence
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 2,400 words
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Spoilers: General for the first series
Synopsis: Morgana had warned him of her dream. The reality was far more of a nightmare.
Author’s Notes: For the cliche_bingo entry “speech deprived”
Disclaimer: I do not own this particular interpretation of the myth and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur strode out to meet his knights, blood like fire, anger fuelling him and giving him purpose. He took his gloves from Merlin, tugged them on with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. A glance told him his horse was loaded with his gear, Merlin’s own strapped down with baskets of herbs and bandages that they hoped they would not need. He was not a manservant on this journey, but the Physician’s Assistant, riding out as the aging healer would not be able to withstand the gruelling pace they were about to set.
He turned to look to his men, to size them up and know just what they had to offer. His eyes widened as he found something unexpected. Gwen stood next to a simple mare, gear not adorned with the knightly crest slung behind the saddle. She wore trousers and a tunic, hair pulled back efficiently from her face, challenging him to comment.
He was the prince and leader not only of his people but also of this rescue mission as a whole. It was his place to say who came and who stayed, and he would not put the mission at risk over some frivolity. “This is no place for a woman,” he told her, not unkindly.
He gaze did not waver. “You are wrong, sire,” she challenged. “This is exactly the place for a woman. If she... If you find her in a state no man should see, I should be there to care for her.” Finally, she looked away, swallowing heavily after saying the words no one else had dared.
He nodded. “Get her a shirt of maille,” he ordered. Nearly instantly one appeared and she slid it over her slim frame. A sword was already tied to her horse, and he did not doubt her prowess with it; not only was she a weapons maker’s daughter, but he had seen her use it flawlessly with his own eyes.
He would not make the trip easy on her, but he also knew she did not expect it. She would ride as hard as everyone else, deal with the lack of amenities and comforts, and be ready to face whatever they found, if they found anything at all.
~~~~~~~~~~
They rode for three days, camping at night and scouring during the day. They questioned village after village until they found a lead, knowing the chances were slim that there was any truth to it at all, but following up on it all the same.
The stone and mortar castle was ramshackle in comparison to Camelot, but placed on a hill with fine sightlines. Very few men would be needed to defend it effectively. It was a good thing his men were far more than simply effective.
Arthur paused as Merlin brought his horse to just in front of his own, ignoring all protocol as usual. The other man’s back was too him, but he could imagine the look of concentration on his face, saw the way his head tipped ever so slightly to the side. There was a murmur, a breath no louder than the wind, and Merlin turned to face him.
“She’s in there,” was all he said. Arthur did not question how he knew.
They waited until nightfall, and then waited until thick clouds darkened the moon, before they approached. The sentries were taken care of in near silence, two of his own men sliding into position should anyone happen to glance that way.
After that, he did not remember much. Men came at him and were sliced down with a thought. The sound of steel on steel echoed off the stones, the light of a torch glancing off Gwen’s blade as she drove a man backwards, his men circling her and Merlin to ensure their safety even as the two supposed servants took out armed figures of their own.
It was exactly as she said it would be, and it frightened him to think of the implications.
Finally, after far too long, they stood before a heavy oak door, barred and chained and holding what they had come for. Sir Halwick took care of the barricade and helped him kick their way into the shadowed room. His heart caught in his throat as a torch was brought forward to peel back the darkness and show him what he feared.
Morgana lay in a crumpled heap on what might have passed as a bed at one point. Her fine dress was in tatters and her knotted hair hid her face as long tendrils snaked up the heavy chains that bound her to a post. She was not moving, did not make a sound or even acknowledge their presence in the slightest.
He stepped forward, booted feet heavy against the stone floor. He kneeled on the worn rug at the bedside, ignoring the filth and stench of someone kept in one place for far too long. Slowly, he reached out a hesitant hand, had nearly touched the remnant of a curl when she flinched violently back away from him.
The torchlight shone in her frightened eyes, revealing blackened smudges and bruises where there should be pale skin. A near perfect handprint lay across her cheek and her bottom lip was crusted with blood where it had been torn open. She was silent as she stared at him, face void of all recognition and full of only fear.
“Shh,” he tried. “It’s me, it’s Arthur.”
She narrowed her eyes as if trying to remember, but still huddled back away from his offered hand.
“You’re safe now,” he promised, hearing a soft gasp as Gwen was led into the room.
Morgana’s only response was to hold out her chained hands defiantly, as if daring him to free her once and for all. It was when she had finally pulled her hands forward that he saw that not only her wrists had been bound, but a heavy collar circled her throat, a thick chain leading from a bolt down her chest to her waist where it joined the matching manacles.
“Get her free,” he ordered.
Halwick stepped forward, but Morgana flinched back again, folding into herself once more.
“We need the key, sire,” he said, voice gentle in difference to the huddled form.
“Then find it!” Arthur snapped, not caring about his harsh tone until he watched the tiny ball of a woman grow smaller. Softer now, he said, “Search this place until you find it. Destroy everything if you have to, but we are getting her out of here.”
Halwick dutifully nodded and began the search, but Merlin stepped forward, Gwen at his elbow. Arthur expected him to try to treat what he could, and was going to comment on having luck getting anywhere near the frightened woman but, as always, Merlin surprised him. “Maybe I could try?” he asked.
“They teach you how to pick locks as a village farmhand?” Arthur said cuttingly, but stepped back to give him room.
“Something like that,” Merlin agreed. He dug in a pouch at his side, but did not seem to be paying attention to whatever he was searching for.
Arthur left him to it, not wanting to bear witness to Gwen gently coaxing Morgana to look up at her, to see her wounds and know he had betrayed her trust that she would always be safe within the walls of the castle. Instead, he set to searching the small room, doubting the captor would keep the key there but having nowhere else to start.
He was reaching for a trunk along the far wall when he heard a distinctive click followed by the rattle of chains collapsing into a pile. He did not need to hear Gwen’s ecstatic, “You did it!” to know Merlin had set her free.
He turned to see Merlin gently easing back tiny strips of cloth that were stained red-brown with dried blood from Morgana’s wrists and realized she must have torn her own dress in an attempt to stop the worst of it. More frightening than the blood against the pale skin were the tears in Morgana’s eyes and the fact she had still yet to say a single word.
“I need water,” Merlin ordered, telling the knights what to do as if he were their liege and not another servant to their master. It did not matter as right now he was, his orders were to be treated as Arthur’s own and no one dared question it.
A skin of water was handed to him, and another to Gwen, hands careful not to get too close to the damaged Lady who somehow trusted them and only them to touch. Arthur ventured closer, watched as Merlin carefully wet the cloth before pulling it back and replacing it with salve and clean bandages. He found he was lucky enough to be counted within the circle as Morgana looked up at him and did not shy away.
“What happened?” he asked, easing himself onto the edge of the torn mattress, trying hard not to think of the implications of her chained to such a thing. “The person who did this, do you know why they chose you? Father received no ransom demand, nothing to tie any of this to any reason or purpose.”
Morgana licked her lips, drank greedily from a water skin when offered until she was nearly choking and Merlin pulled it back disapprovingly. When she opened her mouth to speak though, no sound came out. She tried again, but was met with only silence. Her face crumpled, tears of frustration running down her battered cheeks.
He glanced behind him to see if perhaps the presence of the knights was stopping her, but they had moved to the hallway, offering the Lady and her healers privacy should they need it.
Morgana followed his gaze before looking to Gwen, then Arthur, finally locking eyes with Merlin before her. As if making a decision, she suddenly grabbed the other man’s hands in her own, eyes squeezing tightly shut as her breath came in ragged gasps.
A bandage fell from Merlin’s fingertips as his eyes rolled upward before drifting close. Arthur could see them moving behind the lids, racing in time with his breaths until they flung open once more, shining golden from something far more than the glow of the torch.
“What just happened?” Arthur demanded, not certain if he truly wanted to know. He looked to Gwen, but she appeared to be at as much of a loss as he was.
Merlin blinked back to reality, eyes returning to their normal blue as he looked around the room in a daze. The would-be healer looked to Morgana for permission, taking her nod as assent. Turning to Arthur, he reported with distaste, “He wanted her for her visions. He thought her dreams told of truths and he wanted that power. Wanted to control it and make it his own.”
Arthur looked between them, saw the nervous way Gwen hovered behind her mistress, thought of all the dreams that Morgana had shared with him over the years and how many had come to pass. He thought of the thread of magic that must control them, that must have shared her thoughts with Merlin when she could no longer voice them. He thought of what his father might do if he found out. “This knowledge does not leave this room,” he told them, both a promise and a threat.
Morgana let out a shuddering breath, leaned back into Gwen as if utterly spent. Gwen smoothed back the knotted coils of her hair, wiped her brow with a wet rag and folded over the blood and grime that came away so that the clean side could sooth her once more.
Arthur knew the relief she must have felt, at the rescue and at the safety of more than just her person. He also knew he needed to ask one more question, sought for courage enough to ask. He licked his lips, stalling, before finally blurting, “Did he...?”
Morgana’s eyes drifted back open, lolling to Merlin who shook his head. “He did not violate her, not in that way. Not yet.”
Arthur nodded. At least they had gotten there in time for something.
He opened his mouth to ask another question, but was cut off by Merlin. “Her voice is gone from misuse and magic. Hopefully, in time, it will return,” he explained.
As much as he had teased Morgana as a child for want of her to be silent, he could not imagine her like this forever, did not wish to think of it. “Let’s get you home so you can rest,” he told her.
She nodded, but made no move to stand just yet. “I need to finish wrapping her wounds, and then we can leave,” Merlin said.
“If she can swallow some food, she will be stronger to travel,” Gwen added.
Arthur stood, letting him do their work. He ordered his men to search the castle, to find any survivors or surprises and to take care of them accordingly. The dungeons would have new residents, but not many. They had killed quite a few of their attackers when they breeched the walls, though Arthur greatly wished for confirmation a certain mage was among them.
When it came time to leave, Morgana stood on her own two feet, Merlin and Gwen hovering at either side and more than one knight forming a barrier in front of and behind the trio. Just before the main hallway that would lead to her freedom, Morgana paused before an alcove, head turning slowly to look deep within the shadows. Without warning, she grabbed the sword from Gwen’s side and thrust it deep into the darkness.
A pool of blood formed at her feet before she shakily withdrew her arm, revealing a weapon stained as red as the stones below her. A figure fell forward, grey face frozen in a look of disbelief before he sank slowly to his knees and collapsed completely before her. Arthur had no doubt who the man was, even as his knights rushed to make certain there would be no retaliation.
Morgana leaned into Merlin and offered Gwen back her blade. Merlin looked over to Arthur and, in a voice no more than a whisper, advised, “Now it’s over.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 2,400 words
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Spoilers: General for the first series
Synopsis: Morgana had warned him of her dream. The reality was far more of a nightmare.
Author’s Notes: For the cliche_bingo entry “speech deprived”
Disclaimer: I do not own this particular interpretation of the myth and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur strode out to meet his knights, blood like fire, anger fuelling him and giving him purpose. He took his gloves from Merlin, tugged them on with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. A glance told him his horse was loaded with his gear, Merlin’s own strapped down with baskets of herbs and bandages that they hoped they would not need. He was not a manservant on this journey, but the Physician’s Assistant, riding out as the aging healer would not be able to withstand the gruelling pace they were about to set.
He turned to look to his men, to size them up and know just what they had to offer. His eyes widened as he found something unexpected. Gwen stood next to a simple mare, gear not adorned with the knightly crest slung behind the saddle. She wore trousers and a tunic, hair pulled back efficiently from her face, challenging him to comment.
He was the prince and leader not only of his people but also of this rescue mission as a whole. It was his place to say who came and who stayed, and he would not put the mission at risk over some frivolity. “This is no place for a woman,” he told her, not unkindly.
He gaze did not waver. “You are wrong, sire,” she challenged. “This is exactly the place for a woman. If she... If you find her in a state no man should see, I should be there to care for her.” Finally, she looked away, swallowing heavily after saying the words no one else had dared.
He nodded. “Get her a shirt of maille,” he ordered. Nearly instantly one appeared and she slid it over her slim frame. A sword was already tied to her horse, and he did not doubt her prowess with it; not only was she a weapons maker’s daughter, but he had seen her use it flawlessly with his own eyes.
He would not make the trip easy on her, but he also knew she did not expect it. She would ride as hard as everyone else, deal with the lack of amenities and comforts, and be ready to face whatever they found, if they found anything at all.
~~~~~~~~~~
They rode for three days, camping at night and scouring during the day. They questioned village after village until they found a lead, knowing the chances were slim that there was any truth to it at all, but following up on it all the same.
The stone and mortar castle was ramshackle in comparison to Camelot, but placed on a hill with fine sightlines. Very few men would be needed to defend it effectively. It was a good thing his men were far more than simply effective.
Arthur paused as Merlin brought his horse to just in front of his own, ignoring all protocol as usual. The other man’s back was too him, but he could imagine the look of concentration on his face, saw the way his head tipped ever so slightly to the side. There was a murmur, a breath no louder than the wind, and Merlin turned to face him.
“She’s in there,” was all he said. Arthur did not question how he knew.
They waited until nightfall, and then waited until thick clouds darkened the moon, before they approached. The sentries were taken care of in near silence, two of his own men sliding into position should anyone happen to glance that way.
After that, he did not remember much. Men came at him and were sliced down with a thought. The sound of steel on steel echoed off the stones, the light of a torch glancing off Gwen’s blade as she drove a man backwards, his men circling her and Merlin to ensure their safety even as the two supposed servants took out armed figures of their own.
It was exactly as she said it would be, and it frightened him to think of the implications.
Finally, after far too long, they stood before a heavy oak door, barred and chained and holding what they had come for. Sir Halwick took care of the barricade and helped him kick their way into the shadowed room. His heart caught in his throat as a torch was brought forward to peel back the darkness and show him what he feared.
Morgana lay in a crumpled heap on what might have passed as a bed at one point. Her fine dress was in tatters and her knotted hair hid her face as long tendrils snaked up the heavy chains that bound her to a post. She was not moving, did not make a sound or even acknowledge their presence in the slightest.
He stepped forward, booted feet heavy against the stone floor. He kneeled on the worn rug at the bedside, ignoring the filth and stench of someone kept in one place for far too long. Slowly, he reached out a hesitant hand, had nearly touched the remnant of a curl when she flinched violently back away from him.
The torchlight shone in her frightened eyes, revealing blackened smudges and bruises where there should be pale skin. A near perfect handprint lay across her cheek and her bottom lip was crusted with blood where it had been torn open. She was silent as she stared at him, face void of all recognition and full of only fear.
“Shh,” he tried. “It’s me, it’s Arthur.”
She narrowed her eyes as if trying to remember, but still huddled back away from his offered hand.
“You’re safe now,” he promised, hearing a soft gasp as Gwen was led into the room.
Morgana’s only response was to hold out her chained hands defiantly, as if daring him to free her once and for all. It was when she had finally pulled her hands forward that he saw that not only her wrists had been bound, but a heavy collar circled her throat, a thick chain leading from a bolt down her chest to her waist where it joined the matching manacles.
“Get her free,” he ordered.
Halwick stepped forward, but Morgana flinched back again, folding into herself once more.
“We need the key, sire,” he said, voice gentle in difference to the huddled form.
“Then find it!” Arthur snapped, not caring about his harsh tone until he watched the tiny ball of a woman grow smaller. Softer now, he said, “Search this place until you find it. Destroy everything if you have to, but we are getting her out of here.”
Halwick dutifully nodded and began the search, but Merlin stepped forward, Gwen at his elbow. Arthur expected him to try to treat what he could, and was going to comment on having luck getting anywhere near the frightened woman but, as always, Merlin surprised him. “Maybe I could try?” he asked.
“They teach you how to pick locks as a village farmhand?” Arthur said cuttingly, but stepped back to give him room.
“Something like that,” Merlin agreed. He dug in a pouch at his side, but did not seem to be paying attention to whatever he was searching for.
Arthur left him to it, not wanting to bear witness to Gwen gently coaxing Morgana to look up at her, to see her wounds and know he had betrayed her trust that she would always be safe within the walls of the castle. Instead, he set to searching the small room, doubting the captor would keep the key there but having nowhere else to start.
He was reaching for a trunk along the far wall when he heard a distinctive click followed by the rattle of chains collapsing into a pile. He did not need to hear Gwen’s ecstatic, “You did it!” to know Merlin had set her free.
He turned to see Merlin gently easing back tiny strips of cloth that were stained red-brown with dried blood from Morgana’s wrists and realized she must have torn her own dress in an attempt to stop the worst of it. More frightening than the blood against the pale skin were the tears in Morgana’s eyes and the fact she had still yet to say a single word.
“I need water,” Merlin ordered, telling the knights what to do as if he were their liege and not another servant to their master. It did not matter as right now he was, his orders were to be treated as Arthur’s own and no one dared question it.
A skin of water was handed to him, and another to Gwen, hands careful not to get too close to the damaged Lady who somehow trusted them and only them to touch. Arthur ventured closer, watched as Merlin carefully wet the cloth before pulling it back and replacing it with salve and clean bandages. He found he was lucky enough to be counted within the circle as Morgana looked up at him and did not shy away.
“What happened?” he asked, easing himself onto the edge of the torn mattress, trying hard not to think of the implications of her chained to such a thing. “The person who did this, do you know why they chose you? Father received no ransom demand, nothing to tie any of this to any reason or purpose.”
Morgana licked her lips, drank greedily from a water skin when offered until she was nearly choking and Merlin pulled it back disapprovingly. When she opened her mouth to speak though, no sound came out. She tried again, but was met with only silence. Her face crumpled, tears of frustration running down her battered cheeks.
He glanced behind him to see if perhaps the presence of the knights was stopping her, but they had moved to the hallway, offering the Lady and her healers privacy should they need it.
Morgana followed his gaze before looking to Gwen, then Arthur, finally locking eyes with Merlin before her. As if making a decision, she suddenly grabbed the other man’s hands in her own, eyes squeezing tightly shut as her breath came in ragged gasps.
A bandage fell from Merlin’s fingertips as his eyes rolled upward before drifting close. Arthur could see them moving behind the lids, racing in time with his breaths until they flung open once more, shining golden from something far more than the glow of the torch.
“What just happened?” Arthur demanded, not certain if he truly wanted to know. He looked to Gwen, but she appeared to be at as much of a loss as he was.
Merlin blinked back to reality, eyes returning to their normal blue as he looked around the room in a daze. The would-be healer looked to Morgana for permission, taking her nod as assent. Turning to Arthur, he reported with distaste, “He wanted her for her visions. He thought her dreams told of truths and he wanted that power. Wanted to control it and make it his own.”
Arthur looked between them, saw the nervous way Gwen hovered behind her mistress, thought of all the dreams that Morgana had shared with him over the years and how many had come to pass. He thought of the thread of magic that must control them, that must have shared her thoughts with Merlin when she could no longer voice them. He thought of what his father might do if he found out. “This knowledge does not leave this room,” he told them, both a promise and a threat.
Morgana let out a shuddering breath, leaned back into Gwen as if utterly spent. Gwen smoothed back the knotted coils of her hair, wiped her brow with a wet rag and folded over the blood and grime that came away so that the clean side could sooth her once more.
Arthur knew the relief she must have felt, at the rescue and at the safety of more than just her person. He also knew he needed to ask one more question, sought for courage enough to ask. He licked his lips, stalling, before finally blurting, “Did he...?”
Morgana’s eyes drifted back open, lolling to Merlin who shook his head. “He did not violate her, not in that way. Not yet.”
Arthur nodded. At least they had gotten there in time for something.
He opened his mouth to ask another question, but was cut off by Merlin. “Her voice is gone from misuse and magic. Hopefully, in time, it will return,” he explained.
As much as he had teased Morgana as a child for want of her to be silent, he could not imagine her like this forever, did not wish to think of it. “Let’s get you home so you can rest,” he told her.
She nodded, but made no move to stand just yet. “I need to finish wrapping her wounds, and then we can leave,” Merlin said.
“If she can swallow some food, she will be stronger to travel,” Gwen added.
Arthur stood, letting him do their work. He ordered his men to search the castle, to find any survivors or surprises and to take care of them accordingly. The dungeons would have new residents, but not many. They had killed quite a few of their attackers when they breeched the walls, though Arthur greatly wished for confirmation a certain mage was among them.
When it came time to leave, Morgana stood on her own two feet, Merlin and Gwen hovering at either side and more than one knight forming a barrier in front of and behind the trio. Just before the main hallway that would lead to her freedom, Morgana paused before an alcove, head turning slowly to look deep within the shadows. Without warning, she grabbed the sword from Gwen’s side and thrust it deep into the darkness.
A pool of blood formed at her feet before she shakily withdrew her arm, revealing a weapon stained as red as the stones below her. A figure fell forward, grey face frozen in a look of disbelief before he sank slowly to his knees and collapsed completely before her. Arthur had no doubt who the man was, even as his knights rushed to make certain there would be no retaliation.
Morgana leaned into Merlin and offered Gwen back her blade. Merlin looked over to Arthur and, in a voice no more than a whisper, advised, “Now it’s over.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.