Third Person's Point of View
A groomsmen awaited their arrival as they clattered into the courtyard. Arthur jumped from his horse and gathered Morgana into his arms, her bloodied hand hanging heavily across his back.
Merlin followed suit, handing their reins to the startled groomsmen. He hurried up the stairs past Arthur towards Gaius' chambers.
"Arthur is bringing Morgana in. She's hurt." His mentor nodded once, sweeping his things from the table in the center of the room. He placed down a coarse blanket and pillow for her head, and gathered his tools beside him as Arthur barged into the room.
He lowered Morgana to the table and stepped back as Gaius lent over her, unwrapping the bindings from her hands. The glass wedged beneath her skin was dark and hard to see, and the physician tsked as he adjusted his spectacles.
"The shards are quite deep. She will be in a great deal of pain should she wake. Merlin, hand me that tonic." he gestured to a small vial of purple glass.
Merlin retrieved it and pulled the stop, wincing at the acrid scent of smoke that wafted from it as he handed it to Gaius.
"Arthur, tilt her head." Reluctantly Arthur stepped forward, placing a hand beneath her neck. She jolted awake as he did so, her fingers wrapping around his wrist in a sudden move of surprising strength.
"Don't." Her voice was acid. He nodded slowly, raising his hands as he backed away.
Her gaze flickered from person to person and she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the table, the skirts of her dress swishing against the tops of her feet.
"I've been drugged enough for one lifetime." she snipped, her expression cold as she came to focus on Gaius.
He looked away, letting a sigh slip from his lips as he stood before her. "Give me your hands." she glared but laid them in her lap, palms up. "How did this happen?"
"I fell." she murmured. Her skin crawled as he touched her hand. She held nothing but disgust for the elderly physician, his crimes against her were many. He had drugged her sleep since she was a child, all too aware of the manifestation of her powers. He allowed her to believe she was slowly growing insane rather than tell her the truth of her situation.
She would never forgive him for treating her as a daughter to her face, while believing her to be an untrustworthy witch behind closed doors.
"Is it in your knees as well?" he inquired, his attention caught by the dark patches in her dress.
She pulled up her skirts. Merlin and Arthur turned away, eyes averted.
The glass had torn into her knees through the thin ragged material of her dress and bled down her legs, ribbons of scarlet skating down her calves towards her ankles.
"Hmm." he pulled a basin towards him, wringing out a wet cloth and placing it across her knees. "Merlin."
His apprentice turned, transfixed with the blood running down her legs. "Use these and pull the glass from her hands." he nodded, taking the tweezers in his grasp.
Morgana looked at him warily but did not flinch, holding her hand to him. Her skin was soft, though sticky with blood. The tweezers shook in his hand and he pulled a sliver from her palm, wincing as he dropped it into the bowl beside her.
"Have you been taking care of yourself?" Gaius said, having cleaned the blood from her legs.
"What do you mean?"
"You have lost quite a bit of blood, the glass having prevented your wounds from clotting. I need to know if you've had food or drink recently."
"Broth, some time ago."
"Your wounds are not life threatening, most likely you fainted due to lack of nourishment coupled with loss of blood. Otherwise, you are healthy. Though a bit paler than I remember."
"Put it down to lack of sunlight." she muttered dryly.
"Yes, I suppose you've been too busy plotting to spend time outdoors."
Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, pulling her hands from Merlin's grip. "You speak as if you know me, Gaius. You know nothing. You are a pathetic old man who's spent your time as a physician drugging me to keep my magic from being realized. You let your fear control you, you let your loyalty to a mad tyrant keep you from saving your own people. You are no better than I." she turned away, calmed. To Arthur she said, "Now that I've been examined, am I fit to see the King?"
"Just a moment." Gaius spoke, somewhat recovered from her tongue-lashing. He opened the lid to a shallow jar, smearing the paste-like contents to her cuts. "This should help them heal." then he bounds them with cloth, nodding to Arthur. "That should be enough."
"Come, I will escort you to your chambers. A maid will be brought to you to come and clean you up. You look a fright."
She nodded, wishing her heart would not swell at the hope his partially playful tone gave her. She had betrayed Camelot, there was no forgiveness for what she had done.
The truth could set her free, she knew, but did she even deserve it?
"Morgana." she turned. "You're all done."
She looked down to her hands, bound with thin brown cloth, wrapped tight to help halt the flow of her blood. "Yes. Of course."
She slid from the table, her knees shaking for a moment. She waved away Merlin's offered hand and stepped towards Arthur, offering him her wrists.
He stared at her with something akin to bewilderment, but tied them, taking her arm as her her into the hall. Guards were stationed at every post, filling the corridors like rats in a sewer. They pierced her with their heavy glares, fingers twitching towards their swords.
She avoided their eyes as Arthur herded her to her chambers, slipping her restraints from her wrists before shutting her inside.
It looked as if she'd never left. Her windows were open, flowers on her table, her bed carefully made. For some reason she had expected it to look, changed.
"My lady." she turned. A young girl stood at her bedside. She curtsied gently and Morgana dipped her head. "Shall I help you undress?"
She nodded, turning her back. The maid loosened the laces of her dress with nimble fingers, pushing it to her shoulders. It dropped from her chest and pooled at her feet, leaving her in only her shift.
Unbothered by her state of undress she walked to the vanity, peering with disgust at her own reflection. "I must bathe. I do look a fright." she murmured, more-so to herself than the girl.
Nonetheless she acknowledged her words and offered a slight smile, "A bath has been prepared my lady, though I assure you, you still look quite beautiful."
She turned, curious. "You don't seem as scared as I would have thought."
"I don't believe everyone with magic is evil. And I've heard many good things about you, I don't suppose everything that has happened could be solely blamed on you."
Morgana tilted her head, "How old are you?"
"Ten and five my lady."
"And your name?"
"Clare."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Claire."
"And you my lady."
Claire walked her to the bath and helped her to wash the blood from her hands and her hair, carefully pulling out the tangles and burs.
When she was clean and the water was dark Claire helped her into a simple blue gown, long sleeved and proper, then brushed her hair until it settled in waves down her back. She didn't bother with rouge or lip color, deciding she'd had enough of the pretender's face Morgause had given her. Looking in the mirror, she almost saw the girl she had been. Almost.
It was then, as she tucked a lock of clean hair behind her ear, she noticed the bracelet upon her wrist. The one her sister had gifted her, with the crest of their family etched on it.
The sight of it sickened her. She slid it from her wrist, calling Claire to her. The girl abandoned her task of attempting to fold the tattered red dress and came to her side, hands clasped at her middle.
"Destroy this." she handed her the bracelet, standing from the vanity to smooth her hands down the front of her gown.
"Destroy it? My lady, are you sure?"
She nodded, knocking at the door once to let Arthur know she was ready. "I am certain. I don't care how, burn it, crush it, you can even keep it if you so choose. I don't want it, and I wish never to see it again."
The girl looked at the bracelet, unassuming in it's beauty of the dark memories it held, and nodded. "As you wish my lady."
Arthur opened the door and stepped inside, a bare imitation of a smile gracing his face. Morgana looked like, Morgana. The one he'd grown up with and known all his life. No heavy makeup stained her beauty, and she went without the elaborate headdresses and jewels she'd favored in the months leading up to her betrayal.
"Are you ready?"
She nodded and he took her arm, surprising her by forgoing the ties meant for her wrists.
Her mind raced, panicking at the thought of finally facing Uther. The King, her father. She thought of all the things she had spoken to him upon their last meeting; she had been cruel. Even knowing what had been done to her to make her say those things, she couldn't bring herself to regret a word.
She tilted her chin high as they neared his rooms, she was no weak woman. She was strong, and she would stand by those things she had said to him. Her death was most likely imminent, why bother with lies of regret in hopes of redemption? It would have no meaning, only allow her temporary forgiveness before he followed through on her execution.
Before she even realized how little time she had to prepare herself, they stood at his door.
Arthur glanced down at her, taken aback by how frightened she looked.
You'll protect me, won't you Arthur? Just a child, having crawled into his bed after a nightmare, he remembered this same expression on her face. She was so young, having just lost her father. He'd promised to always protect her.
"Enter!" Their father's voice startled him from his musings, and he looked up to see the guard had knocked on the door on his behalf.
Clearing his throat Arthur stepped inside, Morgana tucked close to his side. She was startled to see Guinevere at the King's bed, tidying his blankets. She bowed to Arthur respectfully, and then rested her gaze on her former mistress.
Of all the people she had hurt Morgana regretted the actions she had taken against Gwen the most. She had been more than her maid, she had been her best friend. She had looked past Morgana's titles and treated her as a girl, bringing her flowers out of the goodness of her heart, holding her until she calmed when she'd woken from her horrifying prophetic dreams.
"Arthur. Morgana." she looked from the retreating Gwen, her gaze turning to Uther.
He'd managed to sit up against the myriad of pillows against his back, his expression one of cold indifference. He gestured for them to take a seat on either side of his bed.
Hesitantly Arthur dropped her arm, and took a seat, looking to the wall across from her. Arthur sat as well, his eyes nervously going to and from his father and sister.
"I assume you know why you have been summoned to me?"
"I suppose it could have something to do with my betrayal of Camelot, the wrongs I have committed, trying to steal the crown..." she listed sarcastically.
"Morgana," he started. "I will not pretend that I can forgive you for the treason you have committed, nor the magic you possess-"
She stood abruptly, her chair skidding back, nearly clattering to the floor. "Forgive? You think that I desire your forgiveness?"
"Sit down!"
"How dare you."
"How dare I? I am your King! You will show me some respect."
"You are no King. Least of all mine." He recoiled as if she had struck him. "I do not seek forgiveness from you. You are nothing but a sick, embittered old man. I have spent too long fearing for my life at your hand, when I should have felt safe beneath it. You allowed me to believe I was your ward, protecting me as a promise to my father, when you've known all the while that I was your daughter!" her clenched fists trembled as Uther stared up at her.
"Morgana, I could not have told you the truth of your birthright. You admired your father so much, I could not take that from-"
"Do not patronize me!" she spat, "You act under the guise of trying to protect me, when you were really too ashamed to admit to your kingdom that you betrayed your beloved Queen. You brought me to this place, a frightened young child, and let me believe I was nothing more than a burden on your shoulders. A promise to a fallen friend."
"You must know I have cared for you, you are my daughter. I love you Morgana, as I always have."
She scoffed, "And how have you shown it to me? By grabbing my neck, by attempting to execute my dearest friend, by locking me in a dungeon when I spoke out against you? That is not love, I fear you do not know the meaning of the word."
"I admit, perhaps I have not always made the wisest of decisions concerning you, but you must understand that I am the King. My duty to my kingdom comes first, and I have tried my best to do right by you."
"Does that include the persecution of innocents? Tell me father, now that you know of the magic that runs through my blood, when shall my execution take place? Or will you give me a warning rather?"
Arthur straightened at the mention of an execution, his stare burrowed in the side of his father's face.
The King's eyes hardened. "You will be treated as any other citizen of Camelot who has committed the great injustice of treason through practicing magic. Morgana," he broke off, his voice nearly cracking over her name. "I sentence you, to death. I cannot treat you any differently because of your relationship to myself. You have committed treason, and have conspired against Camelot. You have given me no choice. Your execution shall take place in a week's time."
Don't tell me you didn't see that one coming. But no worries, we all know she'll find a way out of it. Or will she?
As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated.