Chapter 17 – Something Lost
Warning/s: A bit of torture, nothing too graphic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
A/N: I don't know how closely I followed the prompt here; I definitely followed it but I'm not sure if this is what ruapilot02 had in mind! Regardless, I hope you all enjoy!
And the hiatus is finally over! I will be updating fairly regularly now, and I have loads more chapters written already, so I won't be running out any time soon! I thank you all for your support and I hope sincerely that you enjoy the up and coming chapters :D
Also, a massive thanks to my amazing beta, Dark Raven Wrote, who made some amazing changes to this. Go check her out after you've read this!
Prompt: ruapilot2: "Morgana finds "something Merlin lost", Freya, and decides to use her against him."
Freya awoke in a dark, dank dungeon, her mind muddled and her vision hazy. There was a sharp, metallic sting in her mouth, like an iron scorpion had crawled in her mouth and jabbed its tail into her tongue. It took several minutes before she was fully conscious, and even then she felt dazed and not completely herself. Her head was dull and pounding, her arms aching – it took her a few more minutes before she figured out that her arms were stretched above her head, unnaturally so, a coarse rope binding her wrists together. Her feet barely touched the floor – she had to stand on tiptoe precariously, which explained the pulsating ache in her thighs and toes.
The cell she was in was fairly spacious, considering it was her prison. It reeked of things that Freya didn't want to name - she settled upon 'bodily fluids' - and things that she simply couldn't identify. They certainly weren't pleasant aromas, though.
Freya held her breath for a few seconds; she was inhaling and exhaling heavily, but when she was silent, the only other sound was a constant dripping of what she assumed was water, somewhere a little distance away from her.
For the first time since she had awoken, Freya wondered where she was and why she was there – and who was there with her.
She had to wait a long time for her answer. She passed the time by thinking of her sweet husband, and her comfortable quarters back in Camelot, attempting - in vain - to ignore the persistent agony throughout her body. There was no window in her cell; no daylight or moonlight streamed in to aid her guessing the hour, but after a while she could hear the distinctive hooting of an owl, and occasionally their screeches as they swooped down on some unfortunate prey.
She predicted that dawn was breaking, from the various sounds of insects and birds, when she received a visit from her captor. She cursed her own stupidity for not guessing who it was earlier. The answer was obvious, really.
Her mouth was dry and her throat was raw – when she tried to speak, she could only croak. Morgana laughed at her pitiful attempt and stepped into the cell. Previously she had only lurked outside, staring hungrily at Freya like a hawk would a mouse, her pale, skeletal hands tracing the walls, pacing up and down. Her dress rustled with every precise, measured step, a small, annoying sound that got at Freya like an itch she couldn't scratch.
Morgana's eyes were bright and clear, like a cat ready to pounce, and her gaze was unforgiving. It held no empathy. She had stained her lips a bright red, which gave the rather disturbing effect of blood coating her mouth. Freya shivered under her gaze but told herself to remain strong, like Merlin would do.
Morgana didn't speak a word as she drew a dagger from her long, cuffed sleeve. It was short but elegant, wickedly sharp on both its point and edges, and more importantly it was headed straight for her.
Morgana pressed the point of the dagger against her neck, against her pulse. The edge of the blade lay flat against her skin. Freya held her breath as Morgana twisted her wrist, and the dagger spun with her. It trailed across her skin until it was poised just at the base of her neck, a few inches above the neckline of her nightdress. Disturbingly, Morgana seemed to relish her fear, her eyes fluttering shut momentarily as Freya willed herself not to burst into noisy sobs.
There was a rush of air as Morgana swiped her arms down, and Freya winced as she felt her skin break and a sharp stinging down her torso. Her nightdress was now ripped from top to bottom, hanging on her like a coat, and her smooth, alabaster skin had a cut that ran from her collarbone to her stomach, bleeding not too heavily but enough that Freya could feel it trickling down her legs, warm and thin and slow.
Absurdly - because this was really the least of her worries at present - she felt suddenly embarrassed by her nudity, as Morgana hacked at her sleeves. She nicked Freya a few times, and when Morgana was finally successful in removing the nightdress, it fell to the grubby floor with more than a few bloodstains decorating it.
Morgana looked as though she was preparing to do something cruel – but, Freya supposed, that was quite a common expression for Morgana. Maybe she just wore it permanently now, in order to avoid having to plaster it on whenever she had to burn down a village or something.
Still, Freya braced herself for the inevitable pain that Morgana would surely inflict on her. She did not know what Morgana wanted from her – information? – but she could not imagine that Morgana would go to the trouble of stealing her from her bed in the middle of the night just to lock her in a cell and do nothing with her.
Morgana let the blade graze over Freya's back lightly, just enough that Freya could feel it, not so much that it was actually causing her pain. Then Morgana pressed the blade down a little harder. Her skin didn't break; no blood trickled down her back, but this time it was definitely painful.
Suddenly the blade completely disappeared from her back, leaving no trace but a throbbing ache. She wished for Merlin to appear at any moment, to take her back to where she was safe.
"Morgana is using her as a trap," Arthur warned. It had been a day since Freya had been taken and Merlin was frantic, restless to head out and rescue her, but Arthur was forcing him to wait and consider.
"I know," Merlin said impatiently, "and I don't care. I can fight Morgana off; I'm not going to allow her to hurt Freya."
Arthur looked at Merlin's mutinous face and sighed. There was no point arguing with his former servant, he had known him long enough to know that for certain. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "Promise me one thing, though, Merlin."
"What?"
"Don't get yourself killed." Arthur gave him one of his looks. He knew that this was something Merlin had to set out to do alone, and, although he wished that he could accompany him, he knew that he could not.
"I won't," Merlin said with one of his infamous grins, the type that often meant 'let's just see how it goes, shall we?'
Merlin was able to teleport himself to Freya instantly – it was one of the many advantages of being such a powerful sorcerer. He and Freya were linked by such love that it was found even in the Earth. It was destined, and as such Merlin was able to easily conjure up an image of where she was.
"Merlin!" Freya cried out, as soon as he appeared. She thought she was imagining him for a second, but when he unlocked her bindings, she knew it was real. She fell into Merlin immediately, sobbing.
"What has she done to you?" Merlin asked in distress, stroking her hair. Freya was covered in grime and dried blood. "Let's get back home."
He quickly thought of their chambers back at Camelot and soon they were home, in the middle of the spacious room. Merlin helped Freya to sit down on the edge of the bed as he looked her over.
"She'll never hurt you again," Merlin promised, conjuring up a steaming bath with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about her, let's just get you clean."
That night, when Freya lay in bed with Merlin, she couldn't stop shaking from the memories of what had happened to her when she was with Morgana. "Don't let her ever take me again," she whispered to Merlin.
"Never," Merlin whispered back, holding Freya as tightly as he could without hurting her. Her injuries were not too extensive, but he was still gentle with her, not wanting to heal her with his magic in case Morgana had enchanted them somehow and he made them worse.
Freya finally fell into a nightmare-filled sleep, waking every few minutes fitfully and then falling back asleep almost instantly to face more nightmares, but she had Merlin by her side. And that was all that mattered to her.
A/N: Even though I have already got SO many chapters written, I am always wanting more prompts! So please, send me all of your Freylin prompts and ideas and they will be written! Love you all and thank you all for being so patient with waiting xxx