Just an idea I had one day and thought: ooooh, I like! Bashed it off when I should have been revising psychology. Still should be, in fact. Enjoy!

Morgana jumped so violently that she dropped the doll she had been idly toying with and looked up with big, scared eyes as her father came barrelling through the front door. She hated being left on her own.

"Hello, sweetie," her father said with a smile that looked forced. "Sorry I scared you!"

She smiled to show him he was forgiven, but he wasn't looking at her; instead he was rummaging through the untidy pile of clothes on the floor.

"What you looking for?" she asked curiously.

"This," her father said with triumph, holding up a red cloak. Underneath it was a surprisingly shiny suit of armour.

"Ah, the pretty armour," Morgana said with satisfaction. "Why?"

"You and your 'Why?'s will be the death of me," her father muttered fondly. Morgana's heart fumbled its rhythm. She didn't want her father thinking that of her!

"No, they won't!"

Her father's face went very still. Then again, the forced smile stretched his cheeks.

"Then what will?"

Morgana hid her face behind her doll, scared of the intensity in his voice and eyes. Two, three heavy footsteps then he grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her, hard. "What will?"

Tears stabbed her eyes and dragged down her cheeks. Not again.

"Daddy!"

"What do you know? You're a witch, too, aren't you?" He let go of her and began to stomp around the room. "I thought the devilry was in Uther's pet witch and her spawn but maybe it's not. Maybe it's in me and now in you, little Morgana, little second chance."

"I don't know anything!" she screamed at him, hiccoughing on her frightened sobs. "I don't know anything! I don't dream-"

His face was in hers again, his eyes almost as wide as hers with a deep and private terror as he barked,

"What do you dream?"

Morgana made a massive effort to stop crying. In order to be believed, she had to do this right.

"I dream of ... of flowers," she said unsteadily, wiping her snotty, teary face with her battered doll. "And clothes." She lost control of her tongue for just a second. "And one day, I'll be a lady." She cringed back but her father didn't seem to notice. He smiled a true smile, one of relief, and tousled her hair. She flinched.

"Yes, Morgana. One day, you'll be a lady," he said with a distracted air. "As unlike that ... changeling as possible." He stood up and looked down at her sternly. "Remember, Morgana. To practise or to aid in the practise of magic will damn your soul forever." As he turned away to pick up his armour, he added in a bitter undertone, "And He will see you and judge you and you will suffer."

Yeah, as usual I've implied quite a bit here. Most of it on purpose, I hope. xD

All opinions welcome!

x Maz x