Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Thank you to Guest for reviewing the last chapter.

Each half term now passed like lightning, and before Morgana knew it, she was returning to Camelot for the holidays, preparing for seven weeks without the school, her powers and, most importantly, her newfound family. She a family of sorts waiting for her at the citadel, her uncle by marriage, her cousin and her beloved grandmother, but to think of spending so much time in the absence of her dear great aunt, Helena, and her great grandmother, with whom she had become very close, the young girl could not help but be a little saddened by it.

She had not been met by her grandmother on this occasion, as she was to be escorted to a hillside just beyond the city walls by another Founder of the school, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw's trusted friend. The woman had not trusted herself to leave the city without becoming more involved in the lives of her relatives living there, something which potentially could cause them a great deal of danger.

However, when the Founder of Gryffindor House had bowed low to her in respect and had disappeared in a whirl of cold air, Morgana suddenly felt a chill, and it was nothing to do with the gust of air that came with Disapparition. She could hear a drumbeat in the distance, an ominous sound, one that accompanied only one thing. An execution.

Not truly caring about the mud that splashed her school uniform as she sped through a large puddle, the young girl hurtled through the crowds of people swarming in from the Lower Town, all wishing to see the reason for the drumbeat echoing across the city, and some merely seeking a break from the dull monotony of their everyday lives. No one took any notice of her, for once in her life, as she now stood within the huddled masses, as opposed to her usual position on the balcony at Uther's left hand side. Morgana quickly realised that being unnoticed, coupled with being very slight, was a great advantage in these types of situations, and she quickly managed to push her way through to reach one of the cloisters, pressing herself tightly against it as she watched the horrific events unfold before her eyes.

"Let this serve as a lesson to all." Uther began, just as he had always said. It was that first phrase that opened every execution he had carried out, and that phrase that told the young lady that she was no longer able to deny what was going to happen. "This man, Barnard Jasper Harte, has been found guilty of conspiring to use enchantments, a violation of the laws of his country. Therefore, I have no choice but to sentence him to death."

In spite of herself, Morgana gasped. She had realised what was happening, of course. There was no denying that an execution was going to take place. The law had been broken, and the appropriate punishment would have to be administer by the king himself, whether or not the people believed these punishments were just. But to hear her guardian pass the sentence so briskly, with not even a hint of guilt or remorse in his voice, the girl could hardly believe her ears.

Knowing that Uther would not become any more contrite, the young witch ceased listening to him, not wanting to hear the pretentious speech that always preceded a severe punishment being carried out. The king used them to try and convince the people that he was doing the best for them, so that they did not rise up against him, she supposed. It may have meant that there were never any uprisings from the villagers, but the people hated their ruler now. He had gone too far.

Suddenly, the sound of metal on wood and the exclamations of the crowd returned Morgana's mind to the scene before her. Slowly, for some reason afraid of the sight that lay in waiting for her, the brunette turned her head to face the execution block, and immediately, she clamped her hand down over her mouth to muffle her cry.

The once clean wood of the block was now stained a deep crimson by the blood that ran down it, dripping down and pooling on the flagstone tiles of the courtyard. Half of the crowd was cheering, which the Ravenclaw found just as horrific as the act itself had been. Her vision blurred, her stomach churned, and she found her balance slipping away from her. She tried to cling to the cloister, to steady herself, but it was no good, and she tumbled towards the floor.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her waist, catching her a split second before her head collided with the floor. Immediately, Morgana panicked, fighting as best she could against her captor, but a flash of blonde hair and bright blue eyes told her that the young man was not to be feared.

"Ana, what are you doing here?" Arthur asked, his voice sharp, though it echoed slightly in the girl's ears as her head swam. She could feel herself being dragged toward the castle, her weight resting entirely on her cousin, but other than that, she was no longer aware of anything.

They stopped eventually, when they had reached the prince's chambers, which was closer to the cloisters than the lady's own had been. The Pendragon boy had considered taking her up to Gaius, but given that she was most likely just shocked by what she had seen, he decided against it. 'Besides, if this is anything to do with her... her powers, then telling anyone, even Gaius, could cost her her life. Today proved that clear enough.' he thought.

"What were you thinking?" Arthur asked her, sitting down on the bed beside the girl, who was still shaking and pale as a sheet. "Morgana, you shouldn't have seen that. My father said specifically that you should never watch an execution, you aren't old enough to see something like that. You already have nightmares as it is, don't make it any worse."

"I just came back from school. Sir Gryffindor dropped me off at the hill, and by the time I got down to the Lower Town, everyone was flocking to the courtyard, so I thought I would see what was going on. I didn't realise what was happening until it was too late."

"Look, it's alright. It wasn't your fault." Arthur said, wrapping an arm loosely around the brunette's shoulder as he tried to comfort her. "Just, next time, if you see people flocking to the courtyard, move straight inside, as quickly as you can. I'll try to ask my father to suspend any executions until you are inside on the days when you're coming home if you like."

"It isn't that simple, Arthur!" Morgana suddenly cried out, standing quickly from the bed. She was swaying violently and her head was pounding like the drumbeat from the courtyard, as Uther announced the name and crime of the next victim to his tyranny. Her voice now lowered to a whisper, as she regained enough self control to realise that being overheard would jeopardise her very existance. "That man was executed for using magic, and I... I am a witch. If that man, some innocent man from the town can be put to the axe, then why couldn't I be?"

Immediately, Arthur knew what was wrong, and he leapt to his feet, grabbing Morgana and pulling her to rest against his chest as her legs collapsed from under her. He would not tell her so, of course, but she was absolutely right. The king loved his ward as if she were his very own daughter, but he was so blinded when it came to magic that anything could happen, if he discovered that someone so close to him had the gift, which in Camelot was more of a curse.

"Don't worry, Morgana." Arthur soothed her, smoothing his hand over her hair repeatedly in an effort to calm her. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise. No matter what happens, I will keep you safe."

A/N: Not the best, I know, but please review!