Work Text:
Merlin's lip was bleeding. The points where his teeth dug into the flesh stung and the tang of blood was heavy on his tongue but none of that was close to as bad as the white-hot pain that was his fingers. He didn't dare look at the mess Morgana was making of his fingers but was nevertheless proud of himself for not making a sound throughout the torture.
Crack, crack, crunch.
One by one, she snapped the bones in his fingers, manic glee turning into rage as Merlin refused to break.
Crack, crack, crunch. His right hand was a mangled mess, each twitch of his fingers was agony. Merlin's pointer and ring fingers were bent at odd angles but that didn't stop Morgana.
He almost sobbed with relief when his wrist was released.
Faster than Merlin's pain-drunk mind could comprehend, his other hand was seized in a punishing grip.
Crack, crack, crunch.
He couldn't watch as his remaining fingers were mutilated. Against his will, tears sprung up in his eyes. He was cold and alone, longing for Arthur to come save him.
With a final crack, the deed was done. Fingers curled uselessly in his lap, Merlin glared at the witch. Despite the tear in his eyes, there was no way she was going to get the satisfaction of watching him break.
Like a persistent and petulant child, she had asked over and over again what he knew about Emrys and what could he tell her about recent changes in Camelot?
Her eyes gleamed as she took out a knife and Merlin knew, the pain was only just begining.