Hi everyone, after reading loads of wonderful fics from others, I finally decided to share one I wrote too. My first time posting here so constructive criticism is very welcome. I hope you enjoy my story.
PROLOGUE
Practically the whole of Camelot was gathered in the square that day to witness the execution. People pointed and told stories about the wicked deeds the prisoner had done. The pyre was built and ready in the middle of the square, piled high with dry firewood soaked in oil. Extra faggots were close by just in case. Four guards stood at the cardinal directions, making sure no one meddled with the pyre. Beyond them, more guards held the people back, ensuring that no one crossed over into the execution area. There was heightened tension in the air.
The drums began to sound. The monotonous steady beat that always accompanied an execution. Expectantly, the people turned to the door of the castle keep. The stout wooden door opened slowly and a donkey-drawn cart emerged. Two guards bearing spears marched before it and two others followed behind. The cart was caged and there was a young girl of about 16 years inside. Her skin was pale, whiter than anything anyone had ever seen. Her hair was equally pale and, though grimy from dirt and neglect, it gleamed with a hint of gold when the afternoon sunlight touched it. She was dressed in a dirty gray shift and there were heavy iron manacles at her wrists and ankles and around her neck, through which thick chains were threaded and secured to the sides of the cart. Her head was bowed and she did not look at the crowd that shouted, jeered and spit at her as the cart passed through.
Reaching the clearing in the middle of the square, the guards opened the cage and the four guards each took hold of the chains and pulled the girl off the cart. She did not resist them and she fell heavily onto the cobblestones. The guards dragged her roughly onto the pyre, wrapping the chains around her body to hold her in place at the stake. The four pyre guards took up torches and a servant went round to light them. They stood in readiness, waiting for the order to begin the execution.
The newly-crowned king, resplendent in his richly-embroidered tunic and red cloak and with a gold crown upon his head, stood on the stone balcony overlooking the square. Once he saw that the condemned girl was secured, he spoke in a loud voice: "When I came to this land, this kingdom was mired in chaos. But with the people's help, magic was driven from the realm. This girl, Elvira Hulbert, is adjudged guilty of using enchantments and magic, and plotting treason against the Crown and kingdom. Pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. For the crime of sorcery and treason, there is but one sentence I can pass. She will be burned to death as a witch."
A dramatic gasp went up even though the people already knew what was going to happen, and as one they turned their eyes to the pyre. In an almost synchronised, rehearsed movement, the four pyre guards had lowered their torches and were waiting for a signal from the king.
The king raised his right hand.
"Hear me, Uther Pendragon," the girl's voice rang out strong, clear and proud from the pyre. For the first time, she raised her head and the people saw her eyes glowing gold with cold fury. "In your hatred for magic, you sow the seeds of doom for Camelot. Your children will die as strangers in a strange land and your line will end, betrayed and crownless. Camelot will fall within one generation. This is my prophecy to you and to your people."
Uther looked down at the people who were growing restless and disturbed by the prophecy. He squared his jaw and drew himself up more erect. The guards were still watching him. He let his hand drop and the guards threw the torches onto the pyre.
The firewood ignited easily and the flames leapt up, licking the girl's thin body, eating at her gray shift and at her flesh. The flames jumped higher and stronger.
And then the screaming began.