A/N: So . . . I'm better at writing dialogue than narrative, but Morgana's on her own. Um . . . think of this chapter as practice then?

Disclaimer: I own my OCs, not Merlin, Morgana, Arthur, Gwen, etc. I also don't own the TV show.

This chapter is dedicated to Aaronna , who wanted to see what was going on in Morgana's dream.

Morgana POV

Morgana had no idea how she had gotten here. The last thing she remembered was eating in her quarters; now she was in the bottom of a dry well. The speck of light far above her taunted her with the promise of freedom, there weren't even any bars. But the walls were smooth and offered no purchase to her scrabbling grip. The dress she was wearing was torn, and the hem muddy; probably from falling or being shoved or however she ended up in here. Something wet and cold soaked through her slippers, and she jumped, startled.

It was just water. She hoped it was just water. It has hard to see in the darkness, but at least the liquid wasn't warm. It was up to her calves now, rising faster and faster. Morgana would have worried about drowning if the well was much tighter, but she was pretty sure that there was enough space to allow her to stay afloat long enough for the water to propel her up closer to the top. She just hoped that whatever pressure was causing the water to seep through the floor was strong enough to fill the well almost to the top. Also . . . how was this working at all? Was she doing magic without realizing it? Merlin had said that her natural affinity for magic could cause the magic inside her to react to certain stressful situations . . . .

The water was up to her waist now. It was freezing cold; Morgana could feel goosebumps rising on her skin, except where her feet were going numb. Her dress was a sodden weight, heavy on her shoulders. The water was still rising, about halfway up her torso. She had to get out of the dress. Frozen fingers fumbled with clasps that a servant (Gwen- no, Sela-no, that wasn't right either) would normally help with. She missed the simpler gowns she had worn before she had returned to Camelot. Her fingers slipped on small buttons, failing to find enough of a grip to ease them through the small holes. The water was up to her chest now, cold seeping into her bones. With desperation, Morgana yanked at the buttons holding the wet, heavy material together, feeling some relief as they popped out of place. The water was up to her chin by the time she got rid of the weighty fabric, her movements causing the water (pretty sure it was water) to churn slightly, soaking her face with the stuff. She was in just her shift now, the thin material offering absolutely no protection to the cold water, but at least she wasn't weighted down anymore. The water was up to her chin, it wouldn't be long until she'd have to start swimming.

Morgana's arms ached when she finally managed to pull herself out of the well, hard stones scraping against her arms and shift. Something wet and heavy tugged on her bare feet (she had lost the slippers some time ago) as she kicked them, trying to get the extra momentum to get over the low stone wall. Her dress. Apparently, the pressure underground was enough to push the dress up along with the water, the level of which continued to rise as Morgana flopped out onto dry, hard-packed dirt. She took a few moments to get her breath back and let her burning muscles rest before getting to her knees as the water began to spill over the top of the mossy gray stones. Reaching into the water, Morgana dragged out her sodden gown. She might be needing it soon, if only for the fabric. Her slippers were long gone, so she used the knife clasped to her belt (lucky she had that, really. She didn't seem recall it being there earlier) to rip the hem of the dress and wrap the thick fabric around the soles of her feet. The wrappings would offer at least some protection.

Looking around at the small clearing and surrounding forest, Morgana didn't recognize where she was. It was nowhere in Camelot, that much she knew. How in the name of the Goddess had she ended up here? She could not remember, but as water slopped over the side of the well, her attention was diverted.

"Ӕwielm áebbian," she said with a gesture, and the water calmed and receded. The well looked to be in good condition for being in the middle of a wood, stones clear of vines or cracks; a village must be nearby. But in which direction? There was a locater spell, she knew there was, if she could just remember it . . . .

"Onfindan ende." Nothing. Were there no people near enough? Actually, since she hadn't felt her magic, it was more likely that she had forgotten parts of the spell. Her head was still woozy from waking up in the bottom of a dark well, and to be honest, she'd been a little nervous about using her magic lately. Once she came entirely back to herself and realized that she had been playing into Uther's stereotypes of magic. And she had thought that she understood political maneuvering. She'd been such a child.

Staying here wasn't really an option, so Morgana picked a direction and started walking, gripping the dagger in her dominant hand tightly. The forest was darker than any forest she knew other than in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and it felt just as cold. Goose bumps erupted down her arms, and she wished she had spent more time in the clearing to dry her dress. She would use a drying spell, but she didn't want to accidently set the fabric on fire. The skin on the back of her neck prickled, and Morgana spun on the spot. There was a rustling in the undergrowth, causing her eyes to flit from side to side, but she saw nothing. It was then that Morgana noticed that she had gotten further into the trees than she had thought; the clearing was out of her sight now. More rustling, and Morgana felt her magic rise up, power in her fingertips. Her breath was still for a moment then, and her ears rung with silence.

Then, an explosion of motion as five creatures -bigger than seemed reasonable given the stealth from moments before- leapt for her, claws longer than her dagger reaching for her. A scream of surprise and no small amount of fear ripped itself from her throat as her magic burst from inside her. The creatures were thrown against nearby trees, yelping like much smaller creatures when they connected with cracks that almost made Morgana wince in sympathy, except that the creatures had attempted to have her for their mid-day meal. That dampened any kind of sympathy she might have for any injuries they received.

One of the creatures got up, whining, and staggered around on three legs holding one huge paw up in the air. It stood as tall at the shoulder as she was. Morgana readied another blast of air, but the creature, so unlike anything she had ever seen with it's huge size, green fur, flat head, and bald, rat-like tail, simply staggered away. The others did not move, unconscious or caught in death's arms she wasn't sure, but she didn't want to stay to find out.

A/N: So, if any of you guys have ideas as to what could happen in Morgana's dream, PM me or leave it in a review. I'm looking for ideas. Have a wonderful day (or night, depending on when you're reading this)!