WARNING: Brief but graphic depiction of torture. Read at your own risk.

No one would ever have claimed that Uther was particularly fond of Merlin, and if they were to do so, they'd be lying. It was Uther that appointed Merlin in the first place, and it was Uther that could so easily be his undoing.

But even Merlin thought that this was taking things a little too far.

Gaius hardly spoke to Merlin as he carefully anointed the wound with a disinfectant. It wasn't particularly potent, but under the circumstances it was the only one that could be used. His jaw was clenched, and in his anger he could hardly keep his hand from shaking. His anger, however, was not aimed at the young man in front of him; it was aimed at Uther Pendragon, a king who was willing to take punishment for simple insubordination much too far.

He felt an unfortunate form of respect for the boy. The pain he must have felt had to be agonizing, but he didn't complain once. Didn't make a sound, even as he dug his fingernails hard enough into his palms to draw blood.

Although, Gaius brooded darkly, he couldn't really have complained if he wanted to. Complaining usually requires talking, and talking requires a tongue, and that was something that Uther had seemingly decided Merlin no longer required.

Arthur woke when a ray of sunlight shined directly on his closed eyes. This was how he woke most mornings, though judging by the angle of the light coming in through is window, it was at least two hours after the time he'd told Merlin to wake him.

Typical, he thought with a touch of chagrin. He should really know better than to expect Merlin to do, well, anything on time. A fond smile graced his lips for a moment, and then the prince frowned. Where was he, anyway? Glancing outside, he affirmed that it was a little late, even for Merlin.

Half-concerned, half-annoyed, he glanced towards his door, part of him expecting it to slam open any moment, so that his servant would come running in, spilling Arthur's breakfast like he always did, rambling off insincere apologies. He waited a few more moments, but he didn't appear.

Arthur's stomach voiced its opinion with a low grumble, and he frowned at the door. Idiot probably spent the night at the tavern again, he mused with a touch of amusement.

It took a few more minutes, but eventually there was a soft knock on the door.

"Enter," he called after a moment of surprised silence. Merlin? Knocking? Will wonders never cease?

Merlin quietly opened the door. He carried Arthur's breakfast on a neat tray. He wasn't bumbling and clumsy as he normally was, nor was he stammering off excuses for his lateness that he'd mostly made up on the spot. A touch of concern registered in Arthur's mind, but he brushed it off. He's just a servant, Pendragon.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Arthur teased him halfheartedly. Merlin glanced up at him for a second, but he didn't reply.

Still silent, he began to ready his breakfast. It was more fit-for-a-prince than it was most days. Perhaps that was why Merlin was so late. It still didn't explain why he wouldn't speak.

Now that Merlin stood closer to him, he could see dark circles under the servant's eyes. He looked drawn and even paler than usual. Arthur frowned. He didn't look like he'd gotten any sleep. And what was that on his lip? It looked suspiciously like dried blood, but where would Merlin have gotten injured like that?

"Are you quite alright, Merlin?" Still no reply. "Merlin, I'm ordering you to answer me." He continued not to speak. "Have I wronged you somehow? Are you really so upset as to defy a direct order from your prince?"

After a moment of slightly tense silence, Merlin turned. He looked almost like he had a tear in his eye. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no discernable words would come out. He hardly seemed capable of even making a noise.

"What the…" Arthur's brows snapped together, a sense of dread filling him. "Merlin, what happened?"

After a moment, he realized it might be cruel to ask him; he couldn't reply, anyway, and it was a little rhetorical. Arthur knew there was only one person in the castle who would do such a thing.

Merlin turned away, attempting to preserve the last shreds of his dignity by hiding his tears. Arthur was more than willing to provide him that small comfort. He pretended not to notice.

"Father!"

Arthur's abrupt entrance into the hall was completely unprecedented. Uther winced slightly, and each of the council members looked to the source of the sound.

"What now, Arthur?"

"I'd like to have a word with you."

Uther stared at him, completely exasperated. "This isn't the best time."

"It's important."

"Arthur…"

The prince glared at him, crossing his arms with the kind of stubbornness that only a lifetime of getting what you want can get you. "I'll just stand here and wait if I have to. I need to speak with you about a…delicate matter."

Uther massaged his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. "What is it, Arthur?"

Arthur gestured towards the door.

Uther gave an aggravated huff. "I'll be back immediately," he assured the rather stunned council.

The moment the door closed behind them, Uther turned to his pigheaded son. "You can't just walk into council meetings any time you want, Arthur, they're important," he reprimanded, his voice carefully steady.

"Apologies, sire." The term of respect sounded too similarly to an insult for Uther's liking. "This is rather important, I'm afraid." His fist was starting to clench as Arthur tried to keep ahold of his temper.

"Yes, you said that. What?"

"Merlin is my servant, Father. I'd thank you if you allowed me to decide when and how he needs to be disciplined. I-"

"A servant? You demand my presence, interrupting a strategy meeting, for a servant? Have you gone mad?"

Arthur gritted his teeth. "Yes, a servant. A servant who you cruelly and completely unnecessarily tortured!"

"That manservant of yours is the most obstinate, recalcitrant commoner I've ever laid eyes on. He needed to be taught a lesson."

"And this is how you choose to teach it to him?" Arthur hissed, "You should have handed him over to me; I'd have taken care of it sensibly. You cut out his tongue."

Uther scowled at him. "I do not have to answer to you, boy," he nearly growled, "We will talk about this later." He stormed back into the throne room.

Merlin returned to Gaius's chambers as Arthur had told him to do. At least that was one upside to this. He seemed to be getting the day off.

The warlock checked the door to make sure that Gaius wasn't going to be coming in any time soon, and he pulled grabbed a jagged-edged piece of metal, shiny enough to reflect, and attempted to take a look at the ugly wound.

Merlin had been wounded many, many times, and in increasingly creative ways, but that had easily been the most painful. It wasn't just the physical pain. Something about seeing those grotesque tongs pulling away, something about the sound of his screams dying into gargles as his own blood pooled in the back of his throat and threatened to drown him…something about that just took a bit of a psychological toll.

Every muscle in his body tensed as his body tensed as his eyes flared gold, but all he achieved was a cool, burning sensation that was both painful and relieving.

He tossed down the piece of tin with a harsh clatter, dropping down to sit on his badly mussed bed and burying his face in his hands.

It had to get better. There had to be something he could do. What, exactly, was a sorcerer who couldn't speak? Allowing for the circumstances, Merlin wouldn't be quite as powerless as many sorcerers would be in his situation, but without his words, he was nothing. He would lose his position, he would lose everything.

What the hell was his magic good for if he couldn't even persuade it to help him at a time like this? What was he good for?

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Gaius entering until the physician placed a cup of something warm and pungent in his hands. "Drink. You'll feel better."

Merlin glanced up. He allowed his magic to twist out of him in a strand, flowing into Gaius's mind. Will it ever get better?

Gaius frowned. "It might. With power like yours, we'll just have to wait and see." His hand lingered for a moment on Merlin's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

The warlock vaguely nodded his acknowledgement, and looked down towards the steaming cup in his hands. It was a thick, dark liquid and it didn't look at all appetizing, but it didn't smell as bad as Gaius's usual concoctions, so that was a plus. Closing his eyes apprehensively, he downed the glass in one. Considering his predicament, it was difficult to taste, which he thought himself lucky for, but it left a rather grimy feeling in his mouth. He pulled a face and set the empty cup on the table. Gaius had left.

Out in the adjacent room, he heard the door open, and then creak loudly as it closed.

"Sire!" Merlin stilled, looking at the door with a frown. "What brings you here?"

"I was hoping to talk to Merlin…is he in?"

"In his room, sire."

There was a beat of silence. "Will…"

"Sire?"

"Will he ever be able to speak again?"

Gaius paused, and there was a soft clink of glass against glass. "It's hard to say at this point, my lord."

"But is there a chance?

"It isn't impossible, but…" He didn't need to finish the sentence.

Merlin could vaguely hear the soft, rolling sound of chain mail shifting. He must be coming from training.

"Thank you for…your honesty, then."

Arthur's footsteps drew closer to Merlin's door, and he furiously rubbed at his face, trying to get rid of any stray tear tracks. Arthur knocked softly. Merlin almost laughed.

Arthur, knocking? His thoughts turned bitter. How he must pity me…

He walked in quietly, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. "Merlin?"

Haltingly, the prince walked around the side of the small bed, taking a seat beside his servant. His friend.

"I wanted to apologize, I suppose… My father…he had no right to…"

Merlin scoffed slightly, wishing he could reply. Uther has every right. And even if he didn't, he's the king. Who would stop him?

"Well, Gaius says…it might not just be over, it might, I mean, you might…" Arthur laughed nervously. Nervous. That was not something Merlin had ever known Arthur to be. "I…I'm not sure what to say."

There was a moment of silence, and Arthur brought his hand up to rest of Merlin's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. It wouldn't be spoken of.

It was several weeks later, several long, painful weeks, when Merlin came into Arthur's room with a good-natured smirk on his face that Arthur hadn't seen for far too long. He watched him suspiciously as the manservant set a platter of cheese, fruit, and bread down on Arthur's desk before he flung the curtains open with an over-the-top gusto that Arthur hadn't realized he'd missed.

"Merlin…?"

Merlin turned to him, a wide grin coloring his features. "Good morning, sire."

It wasn't until several hours later, after the initial relieved euphoria had worn off, that it struck Arthur just how strange it was. The punishment Merlin had received wasn't as common as it used to be, thankfully, but he had seen victims of it before. He'd been fully aware that Gaius's hopes, however low they were portrayed as being, were merely fabricated. Merlin had had less than no chance of ever speaking…and yet…

If he didn't know any better, he would've suspected sorcery. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? He wasn't sure anymore.

In any case, he shoved his suspicions to the back of his mind. It only took a moment's consideration to realize that in this situation, ignorance was bliss.

Well, I readily admit that this isn't my best work. It's my first contribution to the fandom, and I usually need to write one test-fic (for lack of a better word:) to kind of get adjusted? If that makes sense. But anyway, this idea was bugging me. Probably takes place around season 2 or so.

I had considered doing this to kind of get my feet wet, then leaving it unpublished, and doing something else, but seeing as the world is ending this Friday, I thought I might not have the time. And in the instance that the world doesn't end, I think that seeing as the promo has emotionally traumatized me, the actual episode might render me into catatonia, and then I wouldn't be able to write anything anyway. So here we are.

I don't own Merlin or any of its cast or characters (unfortunately). No copyright infringement intended.

Reviews are highly appreciated, whether they're good or bad, but please don't flame! If you didn't like it, constructive criticism is always really helpful.

Thanks for reading, and in the name of self-promotion, any Supernatural fans might like to check out a few of my other fics. And with that, I bid thee adieu.