I own nothing, except for my OC.
The dungeon floors were cold and the air was damp. The cell was dark save for the torch light. The only sound to comfort her in this near oblivion was that of her nail scraping the stone floor over and over. She watched as dirt collected in her nail and a little line slowly begin to appear in the ground where she had repeatedly been raking. Her hair was matted to her sweaty brow. Tear streaks stained her cheeks; little droplets of salt water were still secreting from her eyes and followed these trails silently. She had stopped sobbing long ago, accepting the fact that letting the guards know how she felt about her execution would do her no good.
The resonating sound of boots began making their way into her cell. This did not register until she heard a whisper at the door to her hovel. Her head snapped up to see the figure of a young man.
"Who are you?" She was suddenly on her feet.
"My name is Merlin." He said in a hushed voice.
"What do you want, Merlin?"
"Shh, come closer, someone will hear!" She was stunned. Was he here against King Uther's wishes? Judging by the clothes he wore he was no more than a serving boy, no one of great importance. Uther would have his hide. "Hurry, I don't have much time."
She broke away from her thoughts and crept toward the entrance of her cell, resting her hands on the bars she was face to face with this Merlin boy.
"If I remember correctly your name is Opal, yes?" She gingerly nodded her head and bit her lip. "Well Opal, I need you to tell me the truth, did you use magic?"
"No!" Opal wept. "I swear! I am no witch!"
"It's alright, I believe you."
"You do?" She looked incredulously at him.
"Yes I do," The shadows of the gloomy cell danced across their faces, "but Opal I need you to tell me who did."
"No!" Opal cried. She began to hectically shake her head. "I know nothing!"
"I know you do Opal." The shaking did not relent. It was almost as if she was mimicking someone having a seizure. "Opal why didn't you say so in front of Uther?"
"Because… I knew he would never believe me… It was my word… the word of a peasant… over the word of a noble."
"Opal, I'm the only one that can help you," Merlin said in a steady tone, this made her finally gain the courage to look him in the eye. "Who framed you?"
"It was…" She began to say but a sob took control instead.
"Yes?" Merlin encouraged.
"It was Lady Shaula." She sobbed with hefty lamentation and with good reason to. Uther would have never trusted Opal's confession. Lady Shaula was the widow of a stately nobleman. Merlin tenderly hushed her to stop sobbing, like a parent would a crying babe. Eventually the sobs subsided and silence returned between them. "Merlin…"
"What is it?" He implored, boring into her eyes.
"Merlin… I'm scared!" Her voice was low and raspy to match her equally ragged state of countenance. She was a pitiful sight to see. She had run on foot from her kingdom all the way to Camelot in search of sanctuary only to receive an even worse fate. In her kingdom witches were hanged, in Camelot they were burnt at the stake. All her efforts were in vain. He cooed to her to comfort.
"Opal you have my word, that you will walk out of this alive. Do you understand?" She nodded in agreement, biting her lip. "I have to go now."
"Wait!" Opal instinctively gripped his hand over the bars. "Please! Don't leave me!"
"Opal," he came closer, "I have to go. I have something to do. Stop crying you have nothing to worry about. You will be a free woman by this time tomorrow. But you have to let me go now. I promise I won't let them have you."
Merlin left and Opal stood there anticipating his return.