Arthur tried to quell his breathing, preparing himself to step into the light. He regripped his sword, counted to three, and swung around the corner, weapon held high, the sword tip ready to impale any enemy which was hiding from his view. What he found though, was not expected.
The rock walls fell away to create a cavern with a low ceiling, with the exception of the natural chimney rising into the sky, letting a snippet of the silver moon filter down to the underground cave. The stone room stretched back further than Arthur's eyes permitted him to see, covered by darkness that battled the small amount of light cast by the guttering candle which sat in the middle of the floor. It was not this granite hall which held Arthur's attention though. His gaze was fixed on the women sat a few paces behind the candle, who stared at him ferociously. Her legs were curled beneath the plain navy blue shift she wore, and her arms were wrapped around her waist in a protective gesture. The long raven hair which hung past her shoulders covered half of her face, but Arthur could feel her dark, piercing eyes upon him. Her skin was white, far too pale to have seen a healthy amount of sun in her lifetime, and her lips trembled as she sucked in a breath. Arthur was dumbfounded, who was this girl? Why was she here?, and he stared at her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes flickered from his face to the sword he brandished in front of him, and Arthur realised in was not chivalrous to point a sword at an unarmed lady. He slowly lowered the steel weapon, and in return the girl carefully rose from her position on the floor. Drawing herself to her full height she was just about an inch taller than Arthur, and an aura wrapped around her, mysterious and chilling.
They stood for several moments, not sure of what to do or say; until Arthur cleared his throat and broke the connection between their eyes. He took a step forward towards the woman, and she mirrored his footwork, shrinking back against the rock behind her.
"It's all right" he said, raising his hand to her.
"What do you want?" she responded in a hushed voice. She was wary, Arthur could sense that.
"I... I don't know" he admitted. "I heard you singing, that's all. Who are you?"
A small smirk began to creep onto her face.
"The Lady Morgana. I might ask you the same question, sir, except I'm afraid to say that I already know." She replied, and a defiant air began to take hold of her frame. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."
Arthur's brow creased at this response. "What do you mean?" He asked. "You've been waiting for me? Here?"
Morgana chuckled quietly and linked her hands in front of her. "Not waiting for you here, specifically. No, this wasn't my choice."
"Right" Arthur paused, not so comfortable in the company of the mysterious Morgana. He frowned again. "So, erm, what do you want with me?"
"I don't know" Morgana sighed. "I wasn't told why you would come, only that you would."
The silence returned as Arthur contemplated this.
"So who told you that I would arrive?" he questioned.
Morgana took a step towards him. "How should I know? The Dream God perhaps?"
But Arthur was distracted. As she moved a clanking sound filled the cave, and her dress shifted to reveal a chain, secured tightly to the rock wall, slipping underneath the fabric of her skirt to supposedly grip her ankle.
He looked back up at Morgana in surprise. She scowled at him, and Arthur immediately jumped back, raising his sword again.
"Who are you? What did you do?" he demanded, putting as much authority and confidence into his voice as he could muster.
"I've already told you." She retorted "And why don't you ask your beloved father about that?" Anger and resentment leaked into her voice as she mentioned the King. Arthur took one look into her blazing eyes and his survival instinct kicked in. He didn't want to be this far from safety, when no-one was aware he was down here, with a bitter person who held a grudge against his father. Nimueh had already proved that he was the tool of revenge to use against Uther, and this woman must be dangerous if his father was forced to imprison her so deep below Camelot. He shrank back, gazing at the scene, locking the image of the blazing maiden away in his mind, and fled through the dark tunnels.