"Haddock Silenced" is a Season 3 event from December 22-24. It occurs after the Warden has watched Tezz's death.
Haddock's consciousness from within the possessed body boldly criticizes the Warden's recent actions. However, while his criticisms initially appeared to destabilize the Warden, she lashes out against him, first verbally, and then through hallucinations. After the Warden subjects him to mental torture where he sensually repeatedly experiences the death of himself and his family, Haddock begs for the Warden to stop. Broken, he agrees to never again rise up against her in thought or deed.
Full Text Edit
The Warden: Haddock slowly sank to his knees and clutched his head, chest heaving. The Warden had never felt like this. It was…panic, it was scrambling panic. Not sadness, per se, but she was terrified of what she had done. And what that would mean for the rebellion’s future.
There was a new crack in her control, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: You’re despicable, Haddock hissed from inside her. It was incredible, incredible rage ranting at the Warden. Complete and utter disgust for both how Tezz had died and how the Haddock family had been treated. You have next to no conscience, and when you do feel, what do you do about it? Killing people, tormenting them, taunting them, frightening them… in my body! I cannot allow it, filth.
The Warden: Oh, shut up, she mumbled distractedly. You can do nothing about it. She stared wildly at the corpse lying on the ground and turned away farther, digging his fingers into the back of his head and gritting his teeth and chanting to her brother, even though he had already left.
It was you it was you it was you it was you it was you...
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Me do nothing about it? That’s what you’re doing, too, demon.
The Warden: She mentally lashed out and struck him. What do you want me to do!? she shrieked, her mind rearing up in a sudden storm. WHAT!?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Die in the same way he did, Haddock spat venomously.
The Warden: YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!! She pushed him again. I can’t die!! Demon souls are immortal! We can be beaten, we can be tortured, we can be trapped, but we—can’t—die—and when they come for me again, when my…my family… Her thoughts devolved into panic again and she curled in on herself in his mind, trying to contain her memories.
I need to stay here…I need to stay…I need…need to…
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Torture then. I might like that better.
The Warden: You’re missing the point, she hissed. I’m not leaving. Stop pretending like you can make me.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Then I will make you so miserable you will leave on your own volition, scum. Haddock snapped. There was a tremble, tremble, tremble in his mind. Something… breaking.
The Warden: The Warden cackled quite suddenly, still on the brink of losing it. You! Make ME miserable! The very thought! You’re quite funny, Your Majesty, you really are, it’s hilarious.Her cackle turned into a snarl.
Your lovely bodyguard made it so I can’t leave…or if I do, there will be severe consequences for the both of us. So stop speaking of things you don’t understand.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Yes. Make. you. miserable. Remind you everything you do wrong, every despicable, tortuous action you make, plague you of your crimes and your imperfections. You are my worst enemy and if you think you can just enjoy your time here, you are wrong. Maybe those ‘consequences’ of separating will be better than living with me, fiend.
The Warden: Did I say I would enjoy it? she thundered. Does it look like I’m enjoying this? You think I had fun getting dragged to Hel by dark-eyes? You think I chose to stay in his miserable, broken body? You think I enjoyed watching…watching him die?
Her essence billowed like a lightning storm. I’m not as fragile as you mortals. These things may disturb me, but they will never break me. Not like they will break you.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Scoffing, Haddock returned, Petty threats even now? What more can you do to me? There was a painful bark to that comment.
The Warden: Her words were laced with poison. Gareth, dear, dear Gareth…do you really want to be asking that question? Around me, when I am in control of your body and thus your life? Are you really…that…recklessly…stupid?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: You just said that you’re trapped in my body whether or not you like it. You would’t kill me.
The Warden: No, of course not… Her voice was silk now. Never you, dear King…but I am not powerless in my grief. I can take it out on others. And, if you continue to push me…I will.
And she let her thoughts bleed into his: a vivid image of his son’s broken, bloodstained little body, lying on the ground in front of him.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: If Haddock had control of his own body, he would have cried.
It was almost worse that he couldn’t react to the image before him.
How… could… you… even THINK that? he trembled.
An image - one she did not conjure - popped along side it. His hand - HIS OWN HAND - around Mera’s throat.
There is no Hel dark enough to torment you for your monstrosities.
The Warden: You make it too easy, Your Majesty. She threaded a little dark imagination into his memory and his hand closed tighter around the Queen’s neck until she went limp. What did I tell you about baiting me?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock’s response was not verbal. There were no words for the trauma of it. It was like a psychological blubbering, maybe even a psychological seizure. Horror flooded the mind, and a psychological attempt to wrench, wrench, wrench away from it - as if a mind could run away. But he could not. He was trapped trapped trapped and there was her neck and it was his hand and he could feel it he could feel his own hand and the cartilage and bone collapsing beneath it and it was his hand and he was trapped trapped trapped trapped trappped traappedd trappaed trapppeedad trapppedg trappgeednd trragggepppppeeedddd traggggneeedooeedppeddddddddd deouwetpoiuatepiuaetpo9iuaewtartpoitaatpaoua
The Warden: She stepped back and watched him grimly as his mind began to fall apart. Kiaama may stop me from harming them physically, but I can harm their minds. Eventually she had her fill. She withdrew all of her images, and in the emptiness that followed, she tried to speak to him. Gareth…Gareth.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Through the tormented writhing of his thoughts he might have tried to correct her: “It’s—- ttrrrp—paaad—dd —Ki-n——g ttt t——-rrrrpaa trapped —tt—-r-r-r—- Ha-d-d—ock.”
The Warden: The Warden paused, feeling a bit of her temper flare up, and then conceded. …King Haddock. Come back.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: If a mind could gasp, then Haddock’s words were panting. “This… is… all… your… fault.”
The Warden: I take some of the blame, but no, not entirely. I hope you understand now what it means to toy with me.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Was this fun for you? he seethed. Images flashing in his mind. No. No. Don’t think on it. He felt… crippled… even more than his crutches had ever made him. Did you enjoy that, beast?
The Warden: It was necessary. Haddock shifted in place, moving for the first time from his locked-up position on the ground. I cannot have you fighting me. It was easier to break the cat-child and dark-eyes, but you…you put up a fight. And in some cases that is admirable. But now? It will only get you hurt.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: None of that was necessary, Haddock said. Fear tinged his voice, but anger began to seep into his words again. And don’t think I’ve given up. If this has taught me anything, it’s that you are even more monstrous than I imagined, and it even more necessary to block you with anything I can do.
The Warden: You…are…powerless. How many times more must we go through this before you LEARN?!
The last word was punctuated with a forced sensation of pain, of his body burning, every end of his nerves on fire, and she continued the stream of every agony she could create. The Warden accompanied the sensation with horrific, nightmarish visions, his family dying over and over again, himself dying over and over.
I’VE REACHED THE END OF MY PATIENCE. EITHER WE WORK TOGETHER, OR I WILL SHUT—YOU—DOWN. WHAT WILL IT BE, GARETH?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Mental screams. Terror. Agony over and over and over. No sense of time. None. Pain. A mind curling up, hugging itself into a fetal position, trembling. Incapacitated. Completely.
His answer… when it was finally cogent… came in a whimper.
The King of the Wilderwest, begging, broken.
The Warden: She let it continue for a few seconds more before letting it all dissipate.
That’s better. Now. This will not happen again. You will not speak unless I come to you. You will not interrupt me. Understood?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: A meek and crying mind stuttered, "U-u-u-unders-s-stood."
The Warden: Very good. The Warden prodded him carefully. Chin up, Your Highness. If you’re on your best behavior, I might even let you speak with the Queen, mmh?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Mera Violet, Mera Violet, dying over and over again. Body slowly sliding down a pike, orifice to orifice, pointed end squeak out of a pained silent scream. Fire raining down on her, consuming her in bright white flame. Magic shooting through her spirit. Poison shoved down her throat, and then the effects leaving her convulsing… then stilled. The Iron Maiden. Lightning. Acid burning the flesh off her bones. A dragon crushing her. Mera’s spine pulled backward, backward, backward, closing her like a hinge until her back snaps in two.
No, she’s alive, he reminded himself, panting.
Haddock, resigned, told the Warden, You’re free to do as you must. Oh, but he felt dirty. Horrible. Awful. Raw.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: A meek mental nod followed the Warden’s comment. Haddock doubted he would ever speak to his wife again, though, and just drowned in the misery of his position. He responded like a dog to its master, a slave to his keeper. No more balking. No more rebellion. No more fighting. I swear it by Odin’s name.
The Warden: See that you don’t. Otherwise there will be…consequences. She kept the horrid visions billowing around him in a threatening circle. It was strange. Normally she would have found satisfaction, fulfillment, even raw, bloodthirsty joy at torturing him like this. Now she just felt grim, watchful, dutiful. Dead. Now let’s go see if they found your little dark-eyed friend.