A/N: Well looky here, another chapter. Woot woot! So it was a blast to write this chapter. I forgot how much I miss writing Merlin's POV. Such a character that one.
Oh and I meant to say thanks to the wonderful Ariyah for the amazing cover for this fic! LOVE IT SO SO MUCH! (and yes, it did make my month :D).
So now without further ado, Chapter 10. Enjoy!
Silence was not Merlin's friend.
In fact, now, he downright despised it.
Before, the silence was a companion, a comfort when he needed to think or just feel or just be. A friend he could confide in and practice his magic with. He would welcome it after a hectic day of running around after Arthur, trading insults and jibes with the prince-now-king until his throat was sore and his mind exhausted. The silence let him recharge, content to just let him lie within its presence as he let his mind wander free and unchecked. Peaceful, that's what it was.
But now…
Now the silence had betrayed him. It was no longer a comforting friend just waiting for his return, no longer the peaceful being he thought it was. It was still a place he would practice his magic, in the silence of the night—and god did it feel good to do so after the drug had left his system and he was able to let his magic had fill him up and embraced him like a long lost friend. But now the silence also mocked him, followed him around like a parasite he couldn't get rid of, sucking the joy and ease out of his life little by little until he didn't think there would be anything left. Until he didn't think there would be anything left of him. It was no longer a void he himself could choose to fill with his words, no longer an escape from his busy life. It had now become his life.
And he hated it.
No matter how he tried to escape it, no matter how he tried to avoid it, silence was always there to greet him whether he wanted it to or not. It met him around every turn, at the end of every question asked, at the lull in every conversation that he so badly wanted to fill. Even at the end of every joke, or jibe, or insult where he used to insert one of his own.
And it hurt. It hurt so much worse than the act that turned the silence from a friend to an enemy.
But worse was when he tried to answer the questions, tried to fill in the lull of the conversation, tried to inquire about something and the gestures or looks he so desperately attempted to fill the silence with in place of his words went unrecognized or misunderstood. It left him feeling helpless and frustrated, betrayed by his own lack of voice and a disability that was not of his choosing. He didn't want this, he never asked for this. And yet it was his burden to bare, just as his destiny and the destiny of all of Albion was. But this burden, this burden was unfair. It never promised a light at the mouth of the cave, a happiness once it had been shouldered through the rain and the muck. No. The silence was his only reward, the silence was his only companion. It was a hound sinking its teeth through flesh and bone, refusing to let go until he was torn apart. And even then, it would just keep holding on, never truly letting him go.
It was as the frustration and anger waned that Merlin understood this. He understood that it didn't matter how much he romped and raged about, it wouldn't change the fact that he wouldn't speak again. Even the self depreciation and pity and overwhelming sorrow that overtook him wouldn't change a thing. But, like the silence, they too were a hard hound to shake. No matter how many times Arthur tried to tell him otherwise—because he out of everyone had seen the sorrow welling up within Merlin—or tried to pick him up out of his sadness—the word depression left a bad taste in his mouth despite his inability to even speak it anymore—he always seemed to get caught back up in its jaws.
Though there were other times when a little spark of happiness or joy would sneak up on him. Sometimes he just couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face when a comment was made or a joke was told.
"There's the Merlin I know. It's good to see you smile again mate," Gwaine stated kindly once, hope glinting in his eyes. But Merlin knew it was falsely placed. He wasn't the same as before and he never would be no matter how many jokes the brunette knight told. He couldn't reciprocate, couldn't spit out jibes, couldn't communicate at all on his own, not without the crutch of paper and charcoal. He would forever rely on others' ability to comprehend and interpret his abnormal ways of saying what he wanted, what he needed, what he was trying to say. It was frustrating and degrading and god it tore him apart from the inside out every time he saw someone staring back at him in confusion, the pity and sorrow etched deeply on their face as they tried desperately to understand his meaning only to watch it slip through their fingers like water.
Even Arthur, with his uncanny ability to know what Merlin was trying to say—and Merlin attributed this solely to his magic, to the fact that it had been given to Merlin to aid Arthur—ran into a few road blocks here and there. He never let his pity and frustration show but Merlin could sense it. And it hurt more than any of the others'. The pain he knew was hidden deep in Arthur's eyes forced the guilt he had tried so desperately to bury to rush to the surface and threaten to overwhelm him. He didn't want to put Arthur through this. He didn't want to be a burden to Arthur, to anyone. Despite knowing it wasn't entirely his fault, that he had no choice in the matter, Merlin felt guilty at having been mutilated like this. If only he had kept his mouth shut, just waited out his time with the slavers until he could escape then none of this would have happened. And now he no longer had to pretend to play the fool. He was actually filling into the role quite nicely. A burden, a simpleton, now as accurately useless as Arthur had always claimed him to be.
But Arthur didn't give up no matter how bleak it seemed. He kept trying to reach Merlin, to tear him out of the darkness and help him see that not all was lost not all was filled with guilt and sorrow and anger. He was able to do what others had attempted and failed.
He brought Merlin back.
Arthur was able to break through the walls that clouded Merlin's vision and the thoughts that poisoned his mind. Even when Merlin was on the drug and had yet to forgive him, had yet to even acknowledge or try to communicate—however poorly—with the the king, Arthur had made him smile. The king had broken through his pain and hurt and anger with his mindless chattering and ramblings that so graciously filled the silence. He had made Merlin smile and even laugh despite the betrayal the king had committed. It was a feat that Merlin hadn't thought was possible. But somehow, Arthur had done it.
And later, when he was off the drug and his mind clear enough for the sorrow, angst, and other horrors to set in, Merlin became ever so thankful for that particular skill that Arthur possessed.
It was utterly terrifying the first time Merlin had had a panic attack.
It was silly—shameful really—what had set him off the first time. He had been off the drug for little over a day, keeping himself busy with chores and errands during the daytime and reading during the night. But the morning of the second day without the drug saw Merlin eating breakfast at the table. In front of him was a bowl of the standard gruel mush he had been consuming every morning that he was extremely thankful he couldn't taste if looks were anything to go by—Gaius stated it held most the nutrients his body needed and yet couldn't get through more the solid foods. His mind had begun to wander slightly as he ate, thinking about all the food he missed and wished he could taste again. So it was when Gaius placed a gentle hand on his shoulder—something the old man had done countless times before—that it happened.
The touch triggered a memory, one from his time in the cells as he went through his withdrawal punishment, Doran grinning menacingly down at him, laughing at his pain and his misery and his utter need for the drug that was the cause of all his problems in the first place his desire for it and yet his desperation to not give in to not be at the mercy of these cruel men but having no choice as the pain raged through him and licked at his every pore making it hard to breathe even as someone told him that he was alright that everything was fine but it wasn't he was at the mercy of these men but they kept saying he was fine and that he was back in Camelot but he couldn't seem to breathe to get enough air and his magic wanted to help but he clamped it down and his heart was pounding so hard it hurt and might burst but that voice kept telling him it was alright…
And then he was back in their chambers—though sitting on the floor this time—Gaius kneeling in front of him. The old physician's voice calm and soothing repeating a mantra of "you're safe"s and "its alright"s and "just breathe"s. His wrinkled hands rubbed Merlin's shoulders soothingly, easing the tension that still remained there and brushing off the remains of the memory and what had triggered it.
He was fine, he was safe, he was in Camelot, no longer at the mercy of those men. Not there, not there.
He was home.
Eventually his breathing eased, his heart rate slowing to a much more manageable pace. And after only an hour more and plenty of assurances to Gaius written on one of the ever present pieces of paper in their chambers that he was alright, he set out to wake Arthur. Yes, he had been late but really when was he not? And if the rush and extra chores he was given helped keep his mind busy and away from what he had experienced that morning, then all the better.
But it seemed that episode was not to be his only one.
Another one occurred not but a few days later as he sat in the armory polishing Arthur's chainmail and sharpening his sword. This time though, he was alone. Thankfully, it was not a deep enough memory for him to get completely sucked in and after what he assumed was only half a minute, Merlin had been able to pull himself out and back into the armory. Even though he could see his surroundings during the episode, see he wasn't back with the slavers, his mind told him otherwise and his body seemed to respond accordingly. And afterwards, he had been disoriented but managed to calm himself down and focus on his breathing and the fact that he was back in Camelot, back at Arthur's side. And that had been enough.
After that though, they got more intense. The memories triggered were more vivid, keeping him within their grasp for long minutes, refusing to let him go. They bled together his reality and his memories until he couldn't be sure which was real. The pain, the terror, the inability to breathe those were real enough and it wasn't until he was sure he had had a heart attack due to the complete agony he was in that he lashed out, eyes turning gold with his pent up magic even as he tried to clamp it down. But the terror was too strong and he needed the comfort that his magic provided and it still needed to be released after being so forcefully squandered by the drug. Seconds later reality sharpened to a point where the enemy faded to reveal Gaius and the old man could finally calm him down. Merlin had been so shaken and so thoroughly terrified and exhausted by the end of it that Gaius had made him take a sleeping draught and helped him to his bed.
But not before he had caught a glimpse of the state of the main room.
And then it was when he awoke some hours later that Gaius confirmed it. Yes, his magic had flared up, shattering cookware and vials, spurring the candle flames high up the walls to lick at the ceiling, and even launching objects about the room haphazardly while he had been caught in his panic. The realization was frightening in and of itself. The fact that a panic attack could happen at any moment or any time and his magic could flare up again, possibly in the presence of the knights or Arthur almost set off another attack on its own. Gaius though, anticipating his reaction, had been able to calm him down and reassure him before he panicked entirely.
But that did not help abate his fear.
Now he had to worry about revealing himself on top of the terror of not knowing when or where another panic attack could occur nor how bad it would be. This on top of everything else, was almost too much for Merlin to handle.
It wasn't until the next attack struck leaving Merlin trying to battle not only the memories but also his magic's desire to come to his aid, that they figured out the key.
Arthur.
He broke through Merlin's panic faster than Gaius had, better than even Gwaine, who had spent the weeks Merlin went through the pain of slowly getting rid of the drug by the servant's side, helping him through it all. Arthur's voice broke through Merlin's panic, the sight of him tore down the veil, and his touch grounded him, easing Merlin's tension and letting him breathe. But most of all, Arthur's show of true care and devotion to Merlin allowed him to release the damn he had built up to keep back his almost overwhelming emotions on an everyday basis. Before he even knew what was happening, all that he had tried so desperately to hold back—the hurt, the anger, the frustration, the pain, the terror since his time with the slavers through now—it all bled out through his tears and wracking sobs as Arthur just sat there, holding him like a child and continuing to soothe him with soft words and gentle touches.
Even once when Merlin was sure that some magic had escaped while he was in the throes of panic, was sure that Arthur—who was now always there to bring him back down and comfort him—had seen it and would turn his comfort to anger, Arthur didn't leave him. And he calmed down even more knowing that Arthur hadn't seen, that his secret was safe, still intact despite the struggle it took to keep it that way. He didn't want to lose Arthur, he realized, despite the still mending trust between them. They needed each other.
They were two sides of the same coin, Merlin could see that now more than ever. He needed to help Arthur become the great king he knew he was and unite the land of Albion. And Arthur, it seemed, needed to help Merlin heal and stay whole.
It was because of Arthur that Merlin was able to pull himself out of the darkness time and time again.
That and the hope that continued to spark within him. Literally.
Magic.
Unbeknownst to Arthur, for the past few weeks, Merlin had been searching with determination through every book, tome, and scroll he could get his hands on for a magical solution—or not but he doubted there was a scientific or medical answer to his problem—to his disability.
Ideally, he hoped to restore his tongue completely but would also settle for a speech assisting spell. Yes, he realized that suddenly being able to speak or having a tongue where there once was none was a little suspicious and quite obviously magical but Merlin was not worried. He had explained away much more impossible scenarios before and it helped that Arthur and the knights could be a bit thick sometimes. Really, he would think of something when the time came. But for now, he wanted to ensure that the time would actually come about. And for that, he needed to keep looking for a spell.
During his search, he came across a few spells that although they provided no solution to his predicament, intrigued him. He hadn't done proper magic since being off the drug and his magic itched to be let out. But, despite his ability to perform instinctual and nonverbal magic with simple spells or in the face of danger, Merlin quickly discovered that he was severely inept when in a common setting. Granted, the spells he found were slightly difficult—not as simple as say causing someone's trousers to fall or breaking a tree branch—and his magic was more than willing to jump to his command. But without the guidance of a verbal spell, it didn't seem to know exactly what he wanted. Much control was lost without a spoken incantation or the desperation that came in the heat of battle.
It was an extremely disheartening discovery, one that almost sent Merlin spiraling back down into the darkness, but he pulled himself back up before he could be lost and focused on his original task. He would find a solution to his disability, he was sure of it. Destiny surely hadn't meant for him to spend the rest of his days as a mute. He was no use to Arthur that way.
So he continued searching for a spell.
Not a week later, fate seemed to smile down on him once again. He discovered a spell, one that allowed a person's voice to be heard—as if spoken aloud—despite their inability to communicate for whatever reason. But it was a complicated and energy consuming spell not to mention a little more suspicious than just regrowing his tongue.
However, it didn't matter. The spell needed to be spoken aloud in order for it to work—Merlin had already attempted to incant it nonverbally with no luck and really who was the idiot that invented this ironic spell anyway. So Merlin turned to Gaius, hoping the old physician could perform the spell for him.
At first, Gaius had refused, saying it was much too dangerous and daming. But at that point Merlin's desperation clouded his judgement as he begged the physician.
And finally Gaius agreed.
It wasn't until after the old physician was unconscious from the attempt, after Merlin had screamed himself hoarse in shock and distress and the guards arrived and helped him get the old man onto the bed—which by then Merlin was relieved to feel a pulse, albeit a weak one upon his guardian—that the young warlock understood.
Gaius wasn't powerful enough.
Not only had the old man been referring to the dangers the spell might have on Merlin, but he had also been referring to the dangers it would have on Gaius himself. The amount of energy the spell required had nearly killed the aging physician and even then hadn't been enough.
And the spell hadn't worked.
The guilt nearly crushed Merlin with its sheer weight as he realized what he had done. Blinded by his own pain, his own selfish need Merlin had completely overlooked the possible consequences. And it had almost cost Gaius his life.
That night Merlin didn't leave the physician's side, keeping vigil on him until morning all the while begging the unconscious man through his tears for forgiveness.
And that's where Arthur found him the next morning after no doubt having been informed of the physician's collapse the previous night. Merlin was solemnly sitting beside Gaius' cot, red-rimmed bleary eyes staring at the unconscious physician without really seeing him, his tears having dried up hours earlier. He barely even registered the king's presence nor the assurance his friend gave that Merlin didn't have to wait on him until Gaius had recovered. Then the chambers were empty, allowing Merlin to wallow in his guilt in peace.
And Gaius, being the gracious and ever-loving man that he was, forgave his ward easily once he awoke and let the young man go with only a mild scolding. Merlin, however, didn't think he deserved such light punishment.
So he stopped searching for a solution. He didn't deserve the gift of speech, not after what he had done.
Yes, he knew very well that this wasn't the first time Gaius' life had been put on the line for him. But this was the first time it had been done by Merlin's direct actions. Unlike with Nimueh, Alator, and Morgana, Merlin had been directly involved with the physician's brush with death. Granted, he still felt guilt over what happened in those cases, but in the end he had been able to take Gaius' forgiveness easier though he still carried some of the guilt with him even now.
Which is what made his direct involvement in this occurrence that much worse.
Days passed and, despite his attempts—and the many attempts of Arthur, Gwen, and the knights—Merlin could feel himself settling deeper and deeper into depression—yes depression—until it felt like he wasn't even a part of the world anymore. He just went through the motions, nodding here, following orders there, all the while faking a smile and becoming more and more detached as the days passed. It was a torture of his own making, but he refused to deviate from it. It was just punishment for his actions and nothing less than he deserved.
"Merlin." The familiar wise voice of his mentor and guardian broke through Merlin's thoughts as he sat grinding herbs at the table. "This needs to stop."
Merlin knew exactly what his mentor was referring to but he chose to feign ignorance in order to stall the uncomfortable lecture that he knew was coming. He stopped grinding the herbs, pushing the bowl toward Gaius before making to stand and retreat to his room. However, a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder kept him in place.
"No Merlin, not that. This." Merlin looked away knowing the old man was gesturing to his whole being. He couldn't bear to look at the physician, too afraid of what he may find swimming within the old man's eyes. Anger, disappointment, shame that he just didn't think he could handle receiving right now, especially from Gaius. The man who was a father to him in all but blood. The man who had taken him in and cared for him despite the dangers it posed not only to Merlin but to Gaius himself. The man who Merlin had repaid by almost getting him killed, again.
"Look at me, Merlin." The tone was commanding but still held a bit of concern that Merlin found himself unable to ignore. He sighed, mentally bracing himself for the road ahead, before reluctantly looking up.
Gaius wasn't looking at him with anger or shame but instead with a disappointment and guilt that Merlin didn't expect to find. For they didn't seem to be directed at Merlin, but at Gaius himself.
The young warlock's eyes widened at the sight, shock and confusion chasing all other thoughts from his mind. Why was Gaius feeling guilty? He had no reason to feel guilty. If anything he should be angry and resentful that Merlin's selfish desperation had almost cost him his life. No reason for him shoulder any guilt.
"This has to stop," the physician repeated. "It was not your fault—no let me finish please," he commanded firmly but gently as Merlin reached for the rarely used parchment and charcoal on the table. Merlin slowly retracted his hand and solemnly nodded for the man to continue.
"It was my choice to do the spell, my choice to assist you. I knew what I was doing, what the outcome most likely was to be, though I admit I hadn't known for sure. The result is completely my fault, not yours. You need to understand that and stop punishing yourself."
Merlin hastily shook his head, trying to deny the truth but Gaius just raised his eyebrow, stopping the young warlock's denial in its tracks.
"I may be old Merlin, but I'm not stupid. I know you stopped searching for a solution not long after the incident. I've watched you become more and more distant with every passing day and it saddens me. But I know that's your way of punishing yourself and I'm telling you that it stops now." The order was firm and demanding, warning Merlin that there was to be no ignoring it.
The tears came then, unannounced and unhindered as an onslaught of emotions overwhelmed the young warlock. Guilt over everything that had happened since his rescue, sorrow for what he had lost and almost lost, and the ever-present uselessness he now felt constantly along with a multitude of others. It was all too much. And he was powerless to stop the tide, instead just trying his best not to drown.
A frail but comforting arm wrapped around his shoulders as Gaius sat beside him and he immediately curled in toward the old man, seeking comfort and forgiveness he couldn't even give himself.
"Its alright. Its ok. This is my fault. I never should have gone through with it. I never should have let you punish yourself like this. I should have stopped it in its tracks. It's my fault. Shhh it's ok," Gaius soothed quietly as Merlin continued to sob.
Wait, what?
Merlin shook his head pulling away a little and shooting Gaius his most intense don't you dare glare that he could muster through the tears that continued to stain his face. He must have made a pretty sorry sight for Gaius chuckled before pulling him back into his arms.
"Alright, we can both share the blame, if that's what you want."
It wasn't, but Merlin knew no matter how much he tried, Gaius wouldn't ever let him take full responsibility. So for now, he let it go, content to remain in the comforting embrace of his guardian, listening to the old man's heart beat reassuringly beneath his breast.
It wasn't until later that night, after Merlin had calmed down and the two had eaten supper—both having a thick vegetable stew that Merlin could easily consume since Gaius refused to eat anything in Merlin's presence that the young man himself couldn't—that Gaius brought up the subject again.
"I must confess that even while you refused to continue the search for a solution, I did not." Hope built up in Merlin so fast he barely had a chance to contain it. But Gaius immediately caught onto his thoughts and shook his head. "No Merlin, I'm sorry, I didn't find anything. But my collection of tomes and research is not complete. There very well could be a solution out there somewhere but I am certain it is not here with us."
And just like that, the bubble of hope inside Merlin popped, causing his body to visibly deflate and a deep pain to take root in his chest. It wasn't until he found himself gasping for breath that he realized he was panicking.
But Gaius didn't let it get far, soothing him and telling him it was alright, that he still had a solution and he just needed Merlin to calm down and breathe.
In. Out. In. Out. In...out...in...
Merlin exhaled a shaky breath as finally he managed to calm down. That was the first time a panic attack had not been triggered by a memory or experience. Meaning that, even if he got past the trauma he had been through, he may never be cured of these attacks. He could have them for the rest of his life.
That thought alone almost sent him back into another. But he focused on Gaius sitting in front him, grounding him to the here and now and reminding him that he was not alone. He was fine, he was safe. Everything is going to be alright.
"Better now?" Merlin nodded shakily. "Good. I'm sorry I didn't mean to set you off. I just thought you ought to know. But don't give up now. There's still one more thing you haven't tried," Gaius hinted, eyebrow raised in waiting for Merlin to understand what he was referring to.
Merlin stared back in confusion, wracking his brain for another solution to his predicament. But if there was no magical solution at his disposal, did that mean that Gaius meant for him to go find one elsewhere? Or to go find someone powerful enough to perform the one they had found? But where would he even go? Where would he even start? He needed answers.
Then it came to him and a smile spread across his face.
Kilgharrah.
Why hadn't he thought of the dragon before? When he had a problem, when he needed answers, he usually went straight to the Great Dragon—after Gaius of course. Despite his annoying ability to not give straight answers, Kilgharrah was sure to be able to relieve Merlin of his disability. He was, after all, a creature of profound magic. And it couldn't be destiny's plan for the greatest warlock of all time to protect the Once and Future King as a mute. It just wasn't logical. Kilgharrah would know what to do if not cure him outright.
"Now Merlin," Gaius said, breaking Merlin out of his thoughts. "You must understand that with your disability, you may not be able to call the dragon as you used to. I'm not that knowledgeable in this subject though, so I could be wrong. Your dragonlord abilities may work differently and may not need complete pronunciation."
Merlin nodded, already deep in thought. Yes, he had already come to that realization but hopefully Gaius was right in the other aspect and his abilities would work regardless. One could only hope.
This was his last resort, his last chance to regain the life he used to live. If this didn't work, he wasn't sure what he would do, But he knew he wouldn't be able to continue like this. This world of silence was not one he wanted to be a part of. It was all too much and yet not nearly enough. Besides, he was incapable of fulfilling destiny hindered as he was. It was just nigh impossible. His magic was harder to control, harder to direct. He was useless like this, about as good at protecting Arthur as a toddler.
No, this had to work. Otherwise, without control of his magic and his ability to speak, he might as well not have this destiny at all.
"But we can worry about that all tomorrow," Gaius continued as he stood up from the table and cleared the remnants of their supper. "It's late and I'm tired. And you have a king to serve in the morning. So off to bed with you. Go," Gaius shooed, a stern but fond expression set on his face.
Merlin flashed Gaius a grateful smile, hoping his intentions weren't painted all over his face. He was thankful for all that his mentor had done for him and knew there was no way he would ever be able to repay him. But he also knew there was no way he could wait another day before seeing Kilgharrah. The urge was too strong, his hope and desperation too overwhelming to ignore. He needed to see the dragon.
Tonight.
So Merlin feigned a yawn and waved goodnight to Gaius as he shut the door to his small chambers. Then he waited.
It only took a little over an hour before the sound of soft snoring could be heard from the main room. With the assurance that Gaius was asleep, Merlin snuck through the chambers as quietly as possible before escaping out the door and into the night.
The cool night air caressed Merlin as he walked across the deserted courtyard, keeping to the shadows. A small smile lit his face at the familiarity of this path. He remembered many a nights sneaking out of the castle, most of the time alone, off to continue to fulfill his destiny and save a prat's life. Only a few times did he have to put up with said prat himself, Arthur's bickering and insults assaulting his ears as they escaped into the night. Although he hadn't missed sneaking off, losing sleep, and most often than not getting in trouble in the mornings, Merlin found it somewhat calming to be doing it once more. It reminded him that, even though some things had changed, there were still things that remained the same.
He was so caught up in his musings and memories as he crept out the main gate that Merlin failed to notice the silhouette of the king standing on the ramparts, watching as his servant was swallowed up into the dark forest beyond.
A/N: Well that was fun! Yeah you all basically saw this coming. Kilgharrah is a standard problem fixer in all fics. Hahaha. Anyway as always, reviews are amazing and I love them (yes even the bad ones) so do that. Next chapter is back to Arthur's POV (at least for half of it...) so until then, stay magical my friends and remember to have fun, be safe, and don't die!