Alrighty. First off, thanks so much to those of you who reviewed last chapter. I know very well just how busy this time of year is for so many of us, so thanks a lot for taking the time to review this story, or even just to read it :D

Okay, I'm not sure if you noticed, but I've changed this story to 'T' level. I think the reasons will begin to become clear part way through this chapter...

Well, enjoy. Or cringe. Either is fine with me (although Winston prefers the cringing).

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin *sigh*

Chapter 20

It was always so dark. Only faint movements of smoke could be even faintly distinguished amongst the darkness- that, and the sounds the terrors made as they crept ever closer- squelching, squishing noises, as though they were wading through piles of rotting bodies. His enemies had joined forces, and they were making their way closer- trying to find him. To force him into their pit of hellish nightmares.

There was only one thing which held the creatures away- her voice. It rang out in such a way that it was more beautiful a sound than even the most melodious of bells. She was, in this dark and terrifying world, the only glimmer of light. An angel amongst the demons.

And so he listened to her voice, clinging to it in desperate hope. And every time he followed the suggestions she made, he knew that she was drawing him ever closer to his release from this place. And so he couldn't lie to her. Even when he told her the secret he'd sworn never to tell, he had felt no remorse. She deserved to know everything. And now she was Queen, as she was born to be, and soon she would be able to free him from the endless torture of the unseen beings. Now she had that power.

A light. A connection. And increasing excitement as he sensed the darkness beginning to roll away.

He was coming back to life.

The first thing Uther noticed when his world began to clear was the sound of two sets of footsteps passing by him, and then a large, heavy set of doors closing. A vague glance around with groggy vision revealed to him an image of empty spaces and columns. The throne room, apparently, if his reasoning was correct. But more important than his location was the fact that, judging by the cold sting of iron around his wrists, he seemed to be manacled to something. Confused, he leant backwards, his head hitting against solid stone. He was chained to the wall then.

'Just what is happening here?'

He raised a heavy head, trying to shake away the nausea he felt before it overpowered him. Uther had had it ingrained in him since childhood to never show weakness. He was not about to vomit in his own throne room.

Blinking hard, he just about managed to make out three figures standing towards the other end of the room. One appeared to be a small, ginger-haired man. Did he know anyone with such a stature? The second figure was slightly taller than the man, held themselves with a proud and elegant grace, and had long, flowing Blonde hair. A woman? No man he knew had hair like that.

He blinked again, knowing that the ability to identify the invaders- as he knew they must be- would be crucial if he ever planned to launch a counter-attack. And he only had a few moments to fulfil his task- he had already wasted a few seconds too long just feeling sick. Maybe speaking would help him to recover?

Focusing in the direction of the three invaders, he had to go through two struggled attempts before he finally managed to ask even a single question.

"What is going on here?"

Finally his vision cleared, and the Blonde-haired woman came in to focus as Morgause- the witch who had stolen Morgana away from...

His eyes landed on the central figure. The one sitting on his throne.

"Morgana?"

Uther barely even noticed as his ward rose from her- no, his seat. He didn't register the words she spoke. Instead, a sudden rush of memories forced their way in to his mind, and it was all he could do not to cry out. Flashes of arguments with the council, and unreasonable fights with Arthur. The gradual feeling of having his mind invaded- controlled- and being unable to stop it, unsure whether it was even happening or not. Crowning Morgana as Queen. Her ordering him in to the manacles.

His brain had just settled on an unthinkable, and yet undeniable, notion- that Morgana had allied herself with Morgause (had the two discovered their sisterhood?)- when his pale-skinned ward finally stopped directly before where he stood. He had just about enough time to register the sadistic hunger in her eyes before a single one of her fingers found it's way to his chest.

In that moment, it was as though the world had exploded. A million needles dug their way into the entire surface of his body, leaving not a single spot untouched. Intense, white-hot flames tore at portions of his inside, while ice ripped at the rest- the two opposites working in harmony, twin ribbons of red and white burning their way towards his very soul.

The pain was over almost before it had began, although it had seemed like an eternity. It wasn't until he had started to regain his breath that Uther realized that the almost inhuman noise he had been hearing in the distance had been his own scream.

Panting hard, he lifted his head once again, hoping beyond all hope that he had been wrong- that it was not actually Morgana whom he would find standing in front of him, but simply some witch who bore a mild resemblance.

But his hopes were in vain.

Ruby-red lips curled into a malicious grin. Emerald eyes widened with fascinated glee. In that single moment, the young lady Uther had raised since childhood looked like little more than a madwoman. A figure of nightmares, relishing in his pain; feeding from his torment.

"Did you enjoy that?"

Morgana's voice sounded so joyful that he couldn't bring himself to answer. He just stared in sickening anticipation as her finger stretched once more towards his chest, her head tilting slightly to the side.

"No answer? Then let me give you another sample, father."

The finger had fallen almost before he even heard the final word, and Uther's world was once again overwhelmed with agony.

Merlin had been staring at the ceiling, trying to find out whether any of their foes had realized that the child had lost consciousness, when he had felt it. A shift in one of the spells.

One of them had been removed.

As fast as he could, the young Warlock focused his attention on the location it had happened. Maybe, just maybe, if he wasn't too late, he could sense something which would give him an idea on a way to break the spells himself.

Unfortunately, the fact that he had had to remain undetected while doing so meant that narrowing down the breadth of his senses' enveloped area took him just a fraction too long. By the time he was fully focused on the throne room alone, the most he could make out was that the enchantment which had been removed was the one over Uther.

He was just about to withdraw when he felt a different spell activate. One which reeked of a terrifying level of malice and hatred.

A torture spell. And an incredibly effective one at that.

Pulling away before Morgause or anyone else would have the chance to sense him, Merlin withdrew back in to his own body. He spent a few moments studying each person in the room, his gaze finally settling on Arthur. And it was in those few short moments that Merlin made yet another of the hardest decisions he had ever had to make. He chose not tell Arthur about his father's predicament. At least not yet. There was too much at stake- they couldn't risk for the Prince to go running off blindly to rescue the King- he may well end up destroying all hope of their ever regaining Camelot.

Taking a deep breath, and offering both Arthur and Uther a silent apology, the young Warlock made his way over to where the child lay, still sleeping.

"I'm going to wake her up. Everyone stand back a bit."

Kneeling next to the bed, Merlin was just about to cast the necessary spell, when the memory of the torture spell sprung back in to his mind. Merlin was no stranger to pain- both physical and emotional- but the aura of the hex being used on Uther right at that very moment spoke of pain he could never even begin to fathom. And if he was no longer enchanted...

Unable to bear it any longer, but knowing that he still had to keep the King's situation a secret from the others for now, Merlin did the only thing he could. Closing his eyes, he focused on forming the words of a spell in his mind. It would not be as effective as if he had spoken out loud, but it would be enough for now- just as a way to ease Uther's suffering, even if only by a little bit.

As soon as the spell had been sent, he turned his attention once more to the the girl lying on the bed, placing a single hand on her forehead.

"Áwæcne."

Within moments, a pair of hazel eyes were staring up at him. Merlin grinned.

"Hi there. My name's Merlin. What's yours?"

If any of the rooms' occupants had been asked what reaction they would have expected the girl to have to Merlin's question, none of them would have guessed the truth. Wide-eyed, she back-wheeled across the bed as fast as she seemingly could, falling off of the other side in the process. In the second or two it took for everyone to rush over to check on her, she had curled herself into a ball in the corner, her hands over her ears, and her eyes squeezed shut.

For a few moments, everyone just stood around, staring awkwardly at each-other. Arthur seemed especially nervous about the situation. He had never been around children much, and had never been one for emotion anyway. Merlin knew for a fact that the Prince would never know how to deal with a child in distress. The most he was usually capable of was fighting away whatever had scared the child in question. Which, in this case, appeared to be them.

About half a minute passed before Gwen took it upon herself to step forward. The boys stood by and watched as she knelt next to the girl, placing a gentle hand on the child's upper arm.

"It's alright. We won't hurt you. You can trust us." There was silence for a few moments. "My name is Gwen. Would you be able to tell me yours?" Again, silence. The girl didn't even move from her position.

And so it went on. For five minutes, Gwen sat in the corner with the girl, trying to coax her into relaxing. Meanwhile, the three boys stood in another corner of the room, staying as silent as they could. Eventually, though, it appeared that Gwen gave up on talking, instead choosing to simply sit beside the child, a hand resting on her shoulder for comfort.

While they were waiting, Merlin's mind was whirring. He had, through the years, made it a habit of his to try to imagine the situations of the people he met. It helped him to sympathise with their situations. So he imagined the girl's life. He imagined what it would feel like to have such a spell placed inside of him, at a point in time when his own powers were only just starting to develop. He imagined being brought to a strange city. He imagined the people around him turning to mesmerised puppets before his very eyes. Was the girl alone? Or with her parents? Had anyone actually explained the situation to her at all? Or was she all by herself, wandering around a castle where up until just the previous day she would have been executed for just being who she was?

His head snapped up. "That's it."

Although his whisper seemed to surprise both Arthur and Kennard, neither of the two made a move to stop him as he walked back across the room one more, shaking off Gwen's inquiring look as he settled himself opposite from the girl. He opened his water-skin and held out one hand before him, palm facing upward. When he talked, he made sure to speak gently, taking extra care so as not to make her any more scared than she already was.

"Áhierdan æledfýr ond æg fríce."

As he had hoped, the girl's eyes opened a crack at the sound of words from the ancient language. And as she watched the water from the water-skin weaving in and out of a dancing conjured flame, she gradually opened them more. As the two elements danced higher and higher, until they were floating in a ring above their heads, she slowly lowered her hands, her eyes flickering between Merlin and his magical display with curiosity.

Once he was sure he had her undivided attention, Merlin slowly lowered the water back into the skin, extinguishing the flame in the process.

"You see," he began, smiling gently, "none of us are going to hurt you. We just want to find out what happened to our friends here in Camelot. We were hoping that you would be able to help us."

Seconds passed, and nobody dared to make a sound as the girl studied each one of them in turn, her eyes always turning back to Merlin. Finally, she let out a small smile, and gave a barely perceptible nod.

A sigh of relief filled the room, and Gwen pulled the girl into a firm yet gentle hug. Merlin levelled his eyes with the child's, grinning whole-heartedly. And he was extremely glad to see her grinning just as widely back at him.

"Thank you," he beamed. "Now, let me start again. I'm Merlin. And it's very nice to meet you. Will you tell us your name?"

A strange flicker of emotion flashed across the girl's voice- a sort of frustration one rarely saw in one so young. Ever so slowly, she extricated herself from Gwen's grip and raised a finger so that it pointed to her throat, then shook her head sadly.

"What is it? Your throat?" A nod. Merlin lifted his own finger to follow her own gesture. "Right there?" Another nod. "I don't sense anything magical there. What is it?"

Sitting backward, the girl brought one hand up to her lips, then opened her mouth and moved the hand outwards. Then she made her cross with her arms, shaking her head vigorously, before finally pointing at her throat once more.

After a second or two of silence, Kennard stepped forwards, his voice soft as he looked down at the child. "Are you saying that you can't speak? Is that it?"

The girl looked up at Kennard, her eyes sad. And nodded once more.

Okay. Spells:

Áwæcne - Awaken

Áhierdan æledfýr ond æg fríce - Make fire and water dance

Hope that helped.

So... a lot going on in this chapter. And to those of you who like Uther, please don't kill me. I'm feeling miserable enough about torturing him as it is :'(

By the way, what did you think of my little twist? I admit, I'm kind of looking forward to writing about a character who can't speak. It's an interesting challenge. And one for which I hope the results prove satisfying.

Not sure when the next chapter will be up. Unfortunately, I'll probably have to get down to studying tomorrow, so I may not be able to write any more until Thursday. Still, we'll see how it goes. *Sigh* Stupid exam.