Pain.
Where was the pain coming from?
It was too dark, she should open her eyes, open…
No. Wait they were already open… then why was it so dark?
What had happened? Why was she here?
No.
No.
Calm.
Ankle throbbing.
Maybe her ribs too?
Ouch. Maybe don't move.
Wait… she had been in the forest!
Then… there…
Ow, her head hurt.
There had been a dragon!
And she had been injured.
It was really dark. Too dark.
Had the dragon done this?
No…
No.
Do not cry.
Do not.
She should find something to wrap her ribs in.
That was what she had to do, right?
No, she would not cry.
Don't think about a gentler time, old hands…
Do not.
Gentle hands, a kind, youthful face.
No, no, no!
No crying.
Crying was a weakness.
A weakness they would exploit.
Who were they?
Wait.
What was that sound?
Oh no.
Was there someone else down here?
…
Something else?
She needed to get out of here, needed to-
No.
No.
Irons!
Breathe.
Please, no!
Oh.
Oh.
Those bastards.
When she got out-
If she got out.
Oh, poor baby.
How dare they.
How dare they.
When she got her hands on them.
Them.
Oh, those bastards.
It was cold.
The iron was colder.
If she had her magic-
If she had her magic she would kill them all.
Everyone.
After that…
Oh.
That was warm.
The dragon's scales felt nice, smooth.
Ugh.
Light.
Sharp, too bright.
Wet…
No!
No!
Dark.
She was going to die down here.
That's what people wanted wasn't it?
Poor girl, they would mock. Turned to magic and became evil.
It was wet and cold again.
She didn't like being wet and cold.
No.
No more crying.
If she died here, would anybody notice?
Would they care?
Or would she just become another cautionary tale?
No.
The throne was hers.
It should have been hers.
Arthur didn't deserve it, and Gwen, the traitor…
When she got out, she was going to kill them all.
Stupid Agravaine.
If she wanted something done, she was going to have to do it herself.
Merlin was going down first.