Episode 3: Mute
"Before I speak, I have something important to say."
-Groucho Marx
Chapter 1: Together but Separate
Hooves pounded over rain-slicked wood. They were charging into the citadel now, no one stood in their way. Blood would spill soon enough. Pendragon blood spilling over a dark slate altar, the city lost in chaos without their Once and Future King while the mad sorceress looked on in glee. They were hers. A false maid and a desperate liar rode together into the courtyard. Mordred could only watch. His voice had been stolen. His mind had been bound and gagged by the King's Law, so she would have her vengeance...
Mordred's eyes snapped open. He jerked upright, his mouth open to scream, but only a pitiful, muffled whine escaped. It took Mordred a moment to recover from his nightmare. This was worse than usual. Not that the haphazard maze of alien images and sensations that he usually endured wasn't harrowing in its own way. This was too linear. He found himself missing the random collage of other people's dreams. There was only one reason for such a grounded current. Mordred rolled out of bed and shoved open his recently perfected window shutters. Two women were in the courtyard below. The younger one took a step closer to the three knights who were hurrying down the steps towards them, and collapsed into Sir Leon's arms. Mordred slammed his window shut and paced away, deep in thought. Well, this certainly presents a problem.
Down at the other end of the hall in the guest chambers a flurry of activity surrounded the unconscious Princess.
"Merlin, bring up some more blankets, and get a fire started. Quickly now," Gaius instructed. "We must keep her warm at all costs."
"She just collapsed!" Sir Leon explained, laying Princess Mithian down, swiftly but carefully, on the bed. "Is she going to be all right?"
"I am afraid it is too early to say. Thank you, Sir Leon. You have done all you can," Gaius replied.
"Of course." The knight retreated out of Gaius' way without further prompting, but the young woman's aged servant was less obedient. She stood stubbornly at the foot of the large four-poster, refusing to budge when Merlin stepped in and tried to lead her away gently.
"I'll show you to your room."
"I will not leave my Mistress" she protested.
"She's in good hands, I assure you," Merlin said, trying to coax her toward the door.
"She means everything to me."
"And if it were up to me-" Merlin tried, only to be cut off by her desperate-sounding insistence.
"Please!"
Merlin looked over at the bustling Physician. "Gaius?"
Gaius studied them for a brief moment before relenting. "Find yourself a seat. Merlin, pass me a blanket."
The princess' eyes fluttered open and shut again when he draped the blanket over her, almost appearing to search for her servant. Merlin brushed the idea off as nothing. Mithian was exhausted. He doubted that she had any sense of what was going on around her. No, that odd calculating look on her face must have been his imagination.
Later that night, a brisk knock on the door caused Arthur to look up from his seat at the table in his royal chambers. Merlin's head peeked around it to look at him before he'd even acknowledged it.
"Come in. How is Princess Mithian?"
"She's weak, and clearly exhausted, but she'll live."
"Good," Arthur decided, standing to leave. "I shall speak to her at once."
"Actually, no."
"Excuse me?"
"She's not to be disturbed until morning."
"This is important," Arthur disagreed, making to step past the obstinate apprentice.
Merlin held up a hand to block him. "So is the health of the Princess."
Arthur blinked at him. "Merlin, did you just give me an order?"
"Yes," Merlin confirmed, adding belatedly, "Sire."
"Feel good, does it?"
"It is not unpleasant."
Arthur walked away to stare meditatively out the window.
"Arthur?"
"For them to ride through the night like that, something must have happened."
"We'll know more," Merlin reassured, heading to the door. "In the morning."
When they reached the Throne Room the next morning, Arthur was halted in his tracks by the sight of his youngest knight running down the stairs to join them.
"Sir Mordred, what are you doing here?"
"He probably heard about Princess Mithian from the other knights," Merlin provided without need of any prompting. Even without mental contact from the young Druid, he had still somehow become Mordred's default translator. Gwaine had also called him 'the Mute's Bullhorn,' prompting Percy to thwack him over the head with his waterskin on his friend's behalf.
Mordred nodded, his blue eyes watching the King expectantly.
"I understand that you want to help, but you're still recovering from your injuries. You can't even talk..." Arthur pointed out.
Please, Emrys. Something has happened. Can you not sense it? Mordred entreated his fellow mage, bypassing the King. He hadn't yet decided what to do about his troubling impressions from Morgana last night. That didn't mean that he was going to let the threat pass unanswered.
Merlin eyed him for a fleeting fraction of a second, "If you really want to help. You can assist Gaius and me in her treatment later. You're in no shape to resume any of your duties as Knight."
Mordred drew in a frustrated breath. He should have seen that coming. Emrys had all but ceased his adversarial manner towards Mordred over the past couple weeks. However, he'd also simultaneously developed a cordial, but enragingly constant distance from the younger sorcerer. Whether that meant Emrys acted as an interpreter without ever engaging Mordred on his own behalf, or that Mordred would not see a glimpse of him for days, depended largely on necessity. I probably should just be thankful that he's actually talking to me for once. I can build on that. Mordred shifted tactics as the Princess and her 'servant' filed in past them, pinning the King with a pleading look.
"Go on. You can join us for this meeting, but afterward your involvement will be strictly under Merlin's supervision." Arthur decided, ushering his nephew past them into the room.
"What are you doing?" Merlin whispered sharply.
"What my family should have been doing all along. It is his birthright, even if he doesn't know it yet," Arthur countered just as quietly, walking into the Throne Room to signify an end to the discussion. To be a proper prince, Mordred would need plenty of experience in the ways of the royal court. They already had too much catching up to do. Arthur sat down on his throne beside a mildly-curious Gwen, resting a hand over hers. The Queen glanced over at the unexpected addition to the attending knights and gave the slightest nod. She wasn't nearly as surprised by his presence as Merlin seemed to think she should be, but she had more immediate issues to attend.
"Princess Mithian," Gwen began, gentle as ever, despite the obligatory formalities of court. "You've come a long way to speak with us. What brings you here in such haste?"
"War, your Majesty. Nemeth has been invaded by Odin's men," Mithian recounted as her servant helped her into her seat. "They came at night, without warning. We could not hold them."
"This was three days ago, you say?" Arthur recalled from an earlier report from Gaius.
Mithian nodded absently, trying to hold back tears. "His men. They showed no mercy. They cut us down like wheat."
"And your father?" Gwen questioned gently.
"He was badly wounded," Mithian explained. "But we managed to escape."
Mordred's hands contracted for a moment but he forced them to relax. He had picked up the lie instantly, even hidden as it was amongst true horrors.
"And where is he now?" Arthur inquired, leaning forward in his throne, drawn in by the heartbreaking tale.
"We made it as far as the border, but he could not continue any farther." A tear fell down the princess' cheek and she averted her eyes, staring at her hands.
Another lie. Guilt. She did not want to say these things.
"Odin's men will be searching for us. It is only a matter of time before they find him."
"I see," Arthur said, his expression grim.
"My father is an old man. He cannot fend for himself," she continued.
Mordred's hands clenched into fists. He wasn't looking at the Princess anymore. Now he was staring fixedly at her 'servant', hearing his blood pounding in his ears.
"I have no one else to turn to but you, Arthur," Mithian pleaded. "You're my last hope."
The King and Queen exchanged a weighted glance.
"Mithian, I understand how you must be feeling, and I will do everything in my power to help you," Arthur told her.
Mithian sucked in a small gasp and more tears fell down her face. "Thank you, my Lord."
Mordred could feel his nails digging into his palms. Those were not tears of relief. He could almost taste the desperation in the air. Mithian's 'servant' turned to glance at the crying princess and Mordred caught her eye.
This is cruel, Morgana.
Her green eyes flickered over his face, unimpressed, before she returned her focus straight ahead. It was an obvious dismissal. Mordred clenched his jaw and looked from Emrys, who was busy helping Mithian, to the King and Queen. Mordred was half tempted to contact Arthur's mind out of sheer spite. A large hand rested on his shoulder and he used Percival's comforting presence to ground himself. Revealing his magic wouldn't help anyone. He'd be a Druid sorcerer accusing a noble of treason. He had to be patient and confide in Emrys once they were alone.
Arthur gathered the knights in his royal chambers to discuss the plan. They were all gathered around the table with the map laid out, before Mordred caught up with them. He turned to shut the door after them, knowing that everyone who was leaving on the mission was already present... not to mention the disquieted Queen. Merlin strode over to intercept him, causing him to halt in mid-movement.
"We need to speak about Princess Mithian," Mordred informed him.
Merlin was thrown by the unexpected mental contact, but recovered quickly. "It can wait. Arthur's about to go over his strategy," he thought back, saying aloud "You still want to help?"
"This is important," Mordred insisted while outwardly nodding in response to the spoken question.
"So is this."
Mordred began to shut the door, but Merlin caught it.
"Not so fast," Merlin corrected, holding up a bottle of purplish liquid. "This needs to be delivered to Princess Mithian's chambers. I'll meet you in Gaius' chambers once we're finished here."
Mordred let out a heavy sigh and accepted the bottle that Merlin handed him.
"Thank you," Merlin acknowledged, waiting to shut the door behind him.
Mordred turned back in the doorway to give him a warning look.
"I know." The older mage returned the look with a stern one of his own. After all, Emrys had been guarding the King well enough on his own since Mordred was only a child. He wasn't thrilled with being underestimated.
"Problem?" Percival inquired as Merlin reclaimed his place beside him.
"Stubborn patient," Merlin dismissed with a shake of his head.
Gwaine chuckled. Arthur and his knights accepted the excuse without a second thought, and continued with their meeting. Gwen was the only one who showed no sign of amusement, keeping a worried eye on her husband. Mordred wasn't alone in his misgivings regarding this course of action.
As he reached the guest chambers, Mordred heard a pained cry, followed by a muffled thump. He identified the high pitched creak of Morgana's false voice threatening Mithian inside the room. Mordred couldn't quite make out what she was saying, but it didn't sound friendly. He reached up and wrapped the knuckles of his left hand on the door in a brisk rhythm. Another speech from Morgana to the Princess, this one doubtlessly a warning. Then she pulled the door open to greet him with a false smile on her aged face. Mordred returned it with equal insincerity and held up the parchment-wrapped bottle.
"What's this?" Morgana asked, accepting the delivery with a calculating look.
Mordred gestured to the parchment. For once, he was enjoying his temporary muteness. He studied the interior of the room for any clues to what Morgana and her captive were truly up to while the Priestess was busy. There was an enchanted bracelet peeking out from under Mithian's sleeve. He locked eyes with her. She shook her head emphatically in response.
"Hmm..." Morgana looked up from the instructions that Merlin had written out. "Your medicine, Princess," she relayed, and turned to Mordred, sneering. "Cat got your tongue?"
Mordred flashed her a sarcastic gesture, confirming her joking accusation in the rudest way possible.
"He's a mute," Mithian realized, looking both embarrassed and relieved. "Forgive us. She did not know."
The smirk had dropped off of Morgana's face to be replaced by something far more bitter. "No. I did not."
Mordred bowed politely to the Princess and pinned the Witch with a frosty glare. "I'm warning you, Morgana, whatever scheme you're hatching, abandon it while you still can. I have no wish to see you suffer." He turned and began to walk away, but Morgana's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Leaving so soon? If I didn't know better, I'd think that something had caught your eye."
(Mordred narrows his eyes in response to the Witch's apparent showmanship before he looks back over his shoulder at Princess Mithian.)
The Princess mouthed, "Run!" to Mordred, looking genuinely afraid for his life. He could feel Morgana's magic building around her. He turned and fled, but a wave of invisible force knocked him to the ground before he'd gone more than a few paces.
"Or someone," Morgana amended, watching her son immediately push himself up off the floor and shake off his disorientation. "Stubborn," she chided, reaching out and knocking him flat on his face with an effortless gesture. "Stay where you are, Princess. I think you've already done enough damage for one day," Morgana ordered, kneeling down and pulling the stunned Druid into her lap. He began to reach a hand up to defend himself but Morgana deftly pinned it down. "No."
"Please, don't hurt him! He's nobody- He's a mute! He can do nothing to ruin your plans," Mithian pleaded, frozen in terror in the doorway.
"I warned you that there would be consequences," Morgana replied, pulling a moonstone amulet from under her robes. Mordred struggled in her grip and tried to pull away, but she held fast.
"Diegol cnytte, ādumbian ghwæs," Morgana incanted, pressing the amulet to the back of his neck, and he felt a thick fog invade his mind. It seemed Mordred's ex-mentor had power that she'd concealed even from him.
Mordred let out a wordless mental scream, searching desperately for help.
The witch's grip on him tightened painfully, and with a flash of her eyes, his scream was silenced. "I am sorry, Little Lamb, but I'm afraid I must stop you before you do anything too lamentably foolish."
Mordred felt every muscle in his body relax. His panic settled into the back of his mind to form a numb, droning lull. Mordred was lost in the foreign silence. Morgana's aged arms still cradled him, but he could no longer feel her familiar presence. She was illusory, hollowed out like everything else. Mordred let out a desperate little whine. He had never felt this isolated before in his life.
"Shhhh," Morgana coaxed, running a hand through his hair. Mordred ceased his last effort at resistance and let his mind drift, lying helpless in her lap. He was still breathing a little too fast, but the terror had drained from his expression. "Good boy. It's not so bad once you stop fighting it," Morgana soothed.
"What have you done to him?!" Mithian demanded in a trembling voice.
Morgana smirked and placed a tender kiss on the top of Mordred's head before she moved him out of her lap and stood.
The Princess couldn't help but grimace in response to the twisted gesture.
"You see this?" The Priestess held up the amulet. It glowed ethereally for a moment. "His essence. The boy is mine. You behave yourself, Mithian, and he will not have anything to worry about."
Princess Mithian's wide eyes looked from the amulet, to Mordred's blank stare.
"I've learned my lesson. I swear it! You do not have to hurt him anymore."
There was a brief silence. "I believe you." Morgana tucked the amulet back under her robes.
"We cannot just leave him like this. Someone will suspect..." Mithian ventured.
"You will follow my lead."
"Of course, Morgana," Mithian nervously agreed, trying and failing to stop staring at Mordred. "His face..."
"He will adjust," Morgana dismissed, keeping her tone non-committal. In reality the spell was merely a binding. Her rebellious son would remain intact-if frightened-within his undetectable prison.
Mordred felt slender arms hook under his, joined shortly by two more under his legs. The two women were hauling him over to the nearby stairwell. They stopped and the stronger grip lowered his torso down, draping his upper body over the steps.
"I'm sorry," Mithian whispered, into his ear. "I'm so..."
"Why, Mistress, you've just had a nasty shock. Go ahead and give us your best performance," Morgana taunted, enjoying her moment of vengeance over her traitorous son. She had no way of knowing the peril she had just put him in. After all, Emrys was no longer the only creature of wild magic lingering close enough to respond to Mordred's cry.
"I don't understand your meaning…" Princess Mithian questioned.
The Priestess grinned. "Scream."
A/N: Thanks for reading, guys. I know this is short but the next one will be longer..probably. Special thanks to Agana of the Night for taking the time to revew. Feedback is fuel for my writing engines folks! ...okay, that sounded strange, but I'm sticking with it.
Morgana's spell: "I bind you, I silence you in every way entirely."