Sorry for the delay, I have to bring up the obvious excuse of school, and admit with shame that I am a bag of lazy bones. Thanks for the reviews and the *adds to favourite* and just the general interest :) Hope you enjoy Morgana's POV!
Her footsteps ringing in the corridors, dodging guards left and right, the edge of her skirt snagging on vases and pots, Morgana was hurrying to her room with such agitation that the racket she made preceded her presence, and the people of the court of Camelot wondered at it, complained of it and were alarmed.
Some called out her name as she passed but she didn't stop until she crashed into her King.
"Morgana! What is the meaning of this?" Uther intoned.
She stopped abruptly, staring wide-eyed. "Uh..Um, I had a nightmare, my lord" she stumbled.
"And how was it different from the ones you usually have?" there was a hint of compassion, not annoyance in his words so she decided to play on that.
"My father. I dreamt he was alive, and he and I were riding by the cold sea, I could feel the wind whipping my hair and chilling my bones. But I looked at my father and he made my heart warm. "Here her lip trembled. "Then I saw a legion of soldiers, all heading for my father. He waved me away; he sent my horse running to safety. I screamed at him but he did nothing but stand his ground and I watched as the wave of soldiers pushed him into to the sea, onto the rocks" she broke into a sob, for this was no lie, but a nightmare of her youth.
Surrounded as she was by dark dreams of her dead father and the underlying dread of having magic, she was surprised and comforted when Uther stretched his arms around to envelop her in a caring hug.
"He protected you Morgana, as I will protect you from all danger"
'Can you protect me from myself?' She thought.
Releasing her and propelling her towards her quarters Uther advised her to "Rest, child". Morgana smiled, nervously, and complied. Her heart was now somewhat calmed, her agitation - the effect of Merlin's words - had subsided but it was her mind that was now racing.
She had magic.
The dreaded Uther Pendragon, tireless opposer of Magic, had a witch in his care.
She had reached her door. Exhaling with relief, she opened it.
Her chest heaving with silent emotion, her eyes brushed over her chamber, her only refuge, and she was a Witch. She could not get rid of the word, though Merlin had not even suggested it to her.
Merlin.
She blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend the staggering thought it her mind...
She now called herself a witch, and was utterly terrified because... Merlin, a servant boy from an outlying village, thought she had magic?
But no, she reminded herself. She thought she herself had magic, had forced him to agree or disagree, and he had merely believed her.
That counted for something.
She remembered his eyes burning into hers as he uttered those simple but profound words "I believe you"
He believed that she had Magic.
Magic.
Why could she not get away from that word?
Trying to compose herself, she fell towards an old comforter – tears on a pillow. Her muffled sobs spoke of pain and doubt, and a strange feeling of a loss. Loss of what resulting in how much pain, she did not know, all she knew for sure was that the gnawing fear in her stomach would not fade for a long long time.
Mordred's coming in soon, don't you worry