A/N : Hey guys! Okay, so this is a story that has been stuck in my head for some time now, and for some reason, tonight was the night the words came to me, so I had to write them down. (glances at clock) It's really late, here...

Anyway, can you please please tell me if you like it? Please?

Xo, as always

Morgana scrunched up her nose as she tilted her face to the thunderous sky. Heavy raindrops pelted against the tender skin around her eyes, and she cursed herself for not having brought her green cloak, the one who sheltered her entirely. This one only covered half her face, and she had to keep it from sliding off entirely by pulling it closer while she ran, her fingers gripping the dark wool.

At least she had worn the right shoes.

Before she had started this mad adventure, she had made no move to say goodbye to anyone, save for her trusted horse. Leaning against her skin, she had whispered consoling words into the mare's delicate ear. "I'm sorry I can't take you with me," she'd murmured. "But if I do, they'll find us, following your hoof prints in the mud." When Rhiann had whinnied, she'd choked back a soft sob and, after hugging her horse tight, ventured into the storm outside.

She didn't know how long she had been running, but she knew the path like no other. Many times they had come here, her loyal companion and she, in utter silence. Nothing to disturb them but the graceful sighs of nature, and only the sun to play hide and seek with. She pressed her back against the ancient tree, needing to catch her breath for a minute. For despite the heavy rainfall, her throat felt as dry as if she'd been wandering about the desert, with not a drop of water in sight. Her hand went up to touch the knot where there had once been a green, solid branch, and it made her realize with a sob that some things beautiful couldn't keep from being destroyed.

The branch will grow anew, she consoled herself, and life will start again.

It was that thought that caused her feet to come to a passionate start, with hope of glory and beauty and pure, simple and magnificent life. The drenched soil made squishy sounds beneath her, and sometimes some of the muddy ground flew up to her cloak and rested there, as a witness to her flight.

She had felt too sheltered in the fortress of Camelot, almost as if she were being suffocated. The King, for all his good intent, was not the man she wanted to grow up beside, and though Arthur was her friend, she was perfectly able to leave him behind if it meant she could start again. Breathe again, and create a life that was all her own, without the pressure of expectation pressing against her growing chest.

She sunk down next to the stone, bending over and pressing her fingers deep into the grass, clutching at everything she could grasp. The wetness of the blades felt comforting now, and as she pressed her hand against the rough texture of the headstone, she marveled at the way it made her feel. Protected. Loved.

"I miss you," she said, and the sob that came behind those words wrecked her entire body. She felt a bit ashamed of herself, breaking down like this, in front of her father who had always taught her that she was a strong girl, able to face anything. Losing him had torn her apart, the loss of the sight of him coming home to her had left her reeling.

When she had heard the hoofs approaching, signaling the return of the kingdom's army, she had ran like she did tonight – with a clear sense of purpose. Searching for him, she had craned her head, nearly bouncing on the tips of her toes to jump and wave if she had the chance. Then she had discovered Uther, and in his gaze saw everything she needed to know.

But she was stronger now, she had to be. Wiping at her swollen eyes, she let out a hiccuped laugh. Much good it would do her to wipe away the tears in this rainstorm. "I'm sorry for being silly," she apologized to the heavens. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," came a voice behind her, and she swung her body around to face the intruder of her thoughts, fearing it had been the ghost of someone dear, coming to haunt her. Unfortunately, as she pressed her hand to her chest in shock, she hadn't had enough common sense to slide it beneath her to regain her balance, causing her to fall into the mud, her backside hurting from the abruptness of the fall.

A hand reached out to pull her up again. "…because I'm not going to follow you around in this kind of weather again." He sounded annoyed, but in his eyes she saw the faint glimmer of his concern.

She shook her head, dazed because of his sudden presence, here in the meadow where it seemed no one ever came but her. "Arthur," she blurted out, "why are you here?"

"Well," he explained, "I'm not the one running away, so I guess that only leaves one other thing." When she frowned at him, he rolled his eyes, apparently thinking her to be stupid. His chest puffed out proudly as he stated his purpose for being there. "I've come to get you back."

"Why should I?" She shot at him, even though a small part of her felt excited that he cared enough to try to convince her. "Give me one good reason why I should.."

He didn't miss a beat, for he had prepared this whole conversation in advance. Ever since he had seen her running through the courtyard, her burgundy cloak waving about her as she moved, he had been thinking over every possible argument, and a suitable reply.

"Because if you want to make your own way in the world, you need to be able to handle a sword."

She scoffed. "I can beat you, and you know it."

"Fine," he pushed her further, " then you need to learn how to be more humble. No one likes a know – it – all."

"Arthur Pendragon, you have the biggest ego around." Her laugh cut through the sounds of the midnight storm, and he felt the warmth spread through him, despite the shivering cold of the rain. He had made her laugh, when she had been crying minutes ago, and if that was the only thing he could do tonight, it would be enough. Nearly enough.

"Point taken. But that's because I am good." He grinned at her, and she smiled, the emotion reaching her sad eyes, gazing at him from beneath her lashes. They were wet with little drops of rain, hanging on the small hairs like diamonds. "You need to be grateful for people who want to help you."

She was silent, thinking of the words he had just spoken. Ashamed, she hung her head. Arthur was right. If it had been her father's wish that Uther cared for her, then she needed to be strong enough to follow through. Her father had not been a fool, and if her trusted the proud king, so should she. "I'm sorry," she said, to no one in particular. She had, after all, reason to apologize to them both.

If you trust him, so shall I. she thought, praying he could hear her.

"Great." Arthur looked rather pleased with himself, and she sighed, hoping he wouldn't throw this accomplishment in her face when they had yet another row. She could already hear his teasing, victorious voice. Ugh. "Let's go. I don't think father will be up yet, so I'm sure we can slip in without being seen." He raised himself on the tips of his toes as if sneaking around already… She groaned inwardly. Maybe he was just worried about getting his clothes dirty.

It wasn't until she herself started her journey back to the castle that she noticed how tired she was, how drawn from all the emotion. "Arthur?" She questioned, her voice rising in a silent plea.

"Forget it." he threw back, marching on as if nothing had happened, angry at the sky for still sending heaps of rain their way. The last thing he needed was to be carrying some female on his back, clinging to his neck as they moved.

She smiled to herself, her eyes twinkling with a deep sense of gratitude and friendship. Thank you, Arthur. She told him without words.
You make it better, somehow.

So? Please tell me what you think? Pleaase?

Xo, as always!