Morgana Le Fay

I left innocence to die on the sharpened edge of time. The memories of my youth vanish. I know what life has made of me. Time defiles me without giving me the slightest chance. I am what life has made of me.

[avalonspriestess]

accolondugal‌:

Accolon gave a quiet laugh, basking in the sight of her happiness like he would the warm glow of a fire on a cold evening. Perhaps it would have been different if he did not hear the echo of his feelings in her voice and see it in her smile; then maybe he would have been able to summon more strength of will to repress the desire that burned through his veins. But he did see and hear it, and what will he had to pretend was washed away as his heart thrummed and sang out in his chest.

His eyes followed her as she walked in a slow circle around his horse. Even that small distance seemed too much, but he remained where he was - he was not so far removed from his senses as that. He was clearly removed from them at least partially, though, as instead of gently shaking his head he looked at his horse and then back to her and nodded. “Yes, that would be very welcome, I think.” Glancing up, he signalled to one of his men to find a stablehand to come and sort their mounts, then turned back to Morgana. She was closer again, and he was painfully aware of how they were separated only by scant inches of air. Her words were like caresses, filling him with an aching happiness. Leaning slightly closer, smiling, he said, “And if they had decided to keep me, would you have turned knight in shining armour and come to rescue me?”

He motioned to one of his men and she watched in silence as the horse was led away. She felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable, as if the animal had been shielding them somehow. Pushing the thought away she looked back at Accolon with a small smile. “Shall I accompany you to your chambers? Though I trust you have not been away for so long that you have forgotten your way around the castle.” 

At his words her smile widened, finding comfort in the familiar teasing. “I most certainly would not,” she said, feigning offense.  “Why should knights get to do all the rescuing? If they had kept you I would have turned into a proper witch, like in all those ridiculous stories. There would be no shinning armor but a black gown and a pointy hat. I’d fly over to Gaul and turn all the dragons into frogs or flies,” she laughed. “Then I’d whisk you off on my flying broomstick and we’d vanish into the night!” Her laughter quieted and she lowered her gaze. “Can you imagine the look on King Urien’s face if he found out his bride-to-be turned into a wicked witch and flew away?” She couldn’t. She couldn’t really imagine any of it. 

[avalonspriestess]

accolondugal‌:

When she looked up at him he felt his breath catch, and for a moment felt off-balance, although he might fall straight down into her eyes and drown in their depths. A fate he would be content with, if he were honest. He nodded slowly, heart beating loudly in his ears, the unspoken confession in her words making his chest constrict and ache in the most wonderful, painful way. “I will stay,” he said, voice thick with emotion he wasn’t strong enough to hide entirely. “I will stay as long as you … your family wishes it.” She had to know, surely she had to know, that as much as he loved and respected her brother, she was the reason he was here. The flame he circled around, like a moth eager to embrace its own destruction.

Because what else could these feelings bring? She was betrothed, and to think anything else could ever be was veritable madness. And yet he couldn’t help but feel it was worth it just to be near her again, no matter how short a while it lasted. “I prefer quiet welcomes,” he said, with a concentrated force of will making himself stay put instead of taking a step after her. “He and my sister both,” he chuckled. “Gaul is well. My steward had received all my letters and taken good care of things in my absence, and I was able to put things in order for the forseeable future. Fortunately the dragons in Gaul were very understanding of my injury and open to diplomacy.”

Under most circumstances she would have grown concerned by the emotion apparent in his eyes, so strong it seemed to creep into his voice despite his best efforts. She could not bring herself to worry about who else might see it, not when it brought her so much joy. “You should be weary of the promises you make, my lord. I might just hold you to them,” she smiled. “Court will grow accustomed to your presence, and then I’m afraid you’ll be honor bound to stay in Camelot for quite some time. I can’t imagine we’ll be ready to lose you again any time soon.” Her words were light and teasing, but they carried the weight of her desire. No, she would never be ready to lose him. 

She could feel the distance between them as she walked around his horse and it didn’t seem to matter how far she got. "Quiet welcomes,” she repeated softly. “Of course, I imagine you must be weary from your travels. If you’d like we can have the servants attend to your horse and your belongings.” There was nothing improper about the suggestion, and she told herself she was merely being welcoming. It couldn’t be because she wanted to get away from prying eyes. It couldn’t be because things might be different if they were alone. “Ah, diplomacy triumphs again. I’ll make sure to send a letter personally thanking the dragons of Gaul for their understanding.” Her feet wandered closer towards him again, as if by their own accord. “Dragons are known for hoarding treasure, you know, and in sparing you they have forsaken quite a prize.” She lowered her voice. “I can’t imagine anything or anyone in the world could be more valuable.”  

[avalonspriestess]

guineverethekind‌:

“So do I but I do not see why there could not be enough space in my heart for another,” Guinevere said, slightly taken aback by the woman’s response. Though she immediately understood when Morgana continued. “A friend, then,” she nodded with a warm smile. She wasn’t particularly close with her husband’s family and Guinevere often found herself wishing it was different. Maybe this was a good first step. “Now, Lady Morgana, would you like to sit and talk as friends?” she offered.

The queen smiled and Morgana couldn’t help but find her warmth contagious. She wasn’t certain any good would come of this new friendship, but she welcomed it nonetheless. It had been far too long since she’d spoken openly with anyone, though truthfully her openness could only go so far. “I would love that, thank you.” She said with a small nod. "Though the throne room seems a bit formal for a chat between friends. Perhaps a walk in the garden?” 

[avalonspriestess]

accolondugal‌:

There was no reason why he should know that it was Morgana approaching without turning around or her calling out, and yet he knew - some instinct that heightened his senses when she was near, like there was a thread that joined them and even when he couldn’t see her he could feel the vibrations of her movement through it. He did not seen to see or hear her coming up alongside him as he unbuckled his horse’s bridle, and he did not even need to smell the waft of flowery perfume that accompanied her. He just knew.

In the weeks Accolon had been gone, he had been glad to be back in Gaul and seeing to his responsibilities in person. But the whole time, there had been an empty hollow somewhere beneath his ribs, a feeling of missing something terribly. It was a feeling he had known well for many years but he had realised then that he had not had it in Camelot; what he had been missing had been there, and was there still, calling to him.

Looking over at her, he smiled, drinking in the sight of her - the blue of her eyes, the curl of her hair - since he could not simply take her in his arms and hold her close to him. “I’m glad to be back,” he said, letting his hand brush against hers casually enough that no one else would notice. “It was good to see Gaul again, but right now my home is here.”

He didn’t mean the city, but her. Morgana was his home and always would be.

The touch of his hand was light and brief, but it was enough to waken something strange within her, something she was worked hard to burry in his absence. Morgana closed her eyes for a moment, breathing steadily despite the ache in her chest. She could feel his gaze on her skin like sunlight, but it wasn’t until he spoke again that she finally allowed herself to look up at him. “So you’ll be staying.” Her words sounded uncertain and labored even to her own ears and she lowered her eyes once again. “Things are not the same without you, my Lord, though I doubt anyone else has felt your absence as much as-” her breath caught in her throat “-my family. Your council and support at court is invaluable to the King.” 

Her hand went still and the horse shook his mane, as if complaining at the absence of her caresses. Instead she took a step back and wrapped her arms around herself, looking up at the castle. “Word of your return must have reached the entire court by now. I’m surprised my brother has not thrown a ball or a banquet in honor of your homecoming,” she with a smile, thinking to herself that no feast would be able to compete her memory of the masquerade. “And how is Gaul, Lord Accolon? Please tell me you were not forced to battle any dragons or rescue any maidens while you were away. I think the castle healer would give you a beating if he found out you haven’t been taking care of yourself.” So would she, but she did not say that. She didn’t have the right. He was not hers to fuss over or scold. Not hers to care for. 

[avalonspriestess]

guineverethekind‌:

“You are not asking anything. Quite the opposite, I am asking for your company, Princess Morgana. We are meant to be sisters and yet I know so little of you. I wish we could just sit down and talk, get to know each other a bit, perhaps?” Guinevere often wished she would be closer with Arthur’s sisters, but the relationships in his family seemed to be rather complicated.

“I have sisters,” she said quietly, more to herself than to the Queen. There was Eleanor, sweet, naive Eleanor. Morgana loved her fiercely and dearly, but they had spent so much of their life apart, and even now Morgana still saw her as a little sister, a child. Not a confidant or an ally, rather someone to be cherished and protected. Then there was Morgause... Morgana silenced her thoughts before they went any further. She forced a small smile. “Like I said, my family is complicated, and I mean no offense, you majesty, but I have already enough sisters. Though if you mean what you say and you have nothing more pressing to do than to sit and talk with a gloomy Priestess, then perhaps a friend?” Her smile became a bit more sincere. “As it is I have more family than I can handle, but a friend, that I would be most grateful for.”

[accolondugal]

After several months, Accolon’s physician had finally declared him fit enough to travel again. Almost immediately he had packed and ridden for Gaul; he had been away far too long and there was much to see to in person. It had been strange being back in his homeland for so long - there was a both a sense of returning to where he belonged, and yet the feeling that he had left his heart behind him in Camelot.

Still, the weeks there had passed quickly as he busied himself with dealing with all the matters that had built up in his absence. He stayed until he was confident enough that his steward could manage again with out him for a while, so he might return to Camelot and the people most dear to him. Now he rode into the courtyard of the castle, looking at the familiar scurry of people and felt again that odd sense of homecoming and yet not.

His men were still a little way behind him and he did not immediately see anyone he knew, so he dismounted and set to seeing to his horse.

[avalonspriestess]

It seemed to Morgana that after the masquerade everyone had just... vanished. Her future husband had returned to Rheged without much notice, and while their engagement was still very much in place, his absence was a weight of her shoulders. Then Viviane had returned to Avalon, leaving Morgana without her guidance and her friendship. After that it was Accolon. Morgana knew understood that he had to return to Gaul, and she was truly happy that he had recovered, but she felt his absence the strongest. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to say goodbye, not knowing how long he would be away. The last time they’d spoken was at the masquerade, and she supposed there was a part of her that wanted to keep things that way. Despite a thousand complications and obligations, she treasured the memory of their dance and their stolen whispers. As soon as the song had ended they had parted as was expected, leaving a thousand things unsaid, but it was enough. The memory of him looking at her, wanting her, it was enough for her. At this point she had little control of her own life, but this was a choice she could make. If he was going to leave then she wanted her last memory of him to be that dance, not the sight of him vanishing in the horizon, away from her reach. 

The following weeks had been surreal, with life at the castle becoming suddenly dull. One would have thought the departure of her betrothed and her former lover would have been a welcome change, that their absence would be met with a sense of peace. It wasn’t. Instead there was a silence that surrounded her, so quiet that it rang in her ears and reverberated in her chest. When news arrived that Accolon was returning she honestly didn’t know what she felt. She felt too much. She felt. It seemed as if she was waking up from a trance of sorts, and all she knew was that she had to see him. She had been too cowardly to say goodbye, but at least now she could welcome him back. 

He didn’t see her immediately and for some reason she didn’t call out to him. Instead she watched in silence as he dismounted, drinking in the sight of him. She’d felt his arrival even before he’d entered the castle courtyard, his presence filling a void within her that she had pushed to the back of her mind. It was as if she had been drowning without even realising it, and his return was the breath of fresh air that her lungs had been silently crying out for. After a moment she walked towards him, painfully aware that they were not alone. She approached him slowly, quietly, coming to stand besides him and stroking his horse. “You’ve had a long journey,” she said softly, almost casually. “Camelot is fortunate to have you back.” 

[avalonspriestess]

accolondugal:

Given both their circumstances, he knew that they should not be talking of such things. It was dangerous. At best it would mean both their hearts would be broken again when she married another; at worst someone might overhear and tell her betrothed, damaging that alliance and a result potentially also Accolon’s alliance with Arthur. But hearing the word love from her lips could do nothing but fill him with an agonising kind of joy, making his chest tighten so he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He wanted nothing more than to pull her fully into his arms and kiss her, to love her as openly and freely as he had once done. All he could do was tighten his hand on hers and say, “I can promise you, in this moment, I am entirely and completely happy. Nothing could make me happier than holding the woman I love, even just for a dance.”

He held her hand more tightly and it felt as if her breath left her body. Every glance was poison, and every touch was the antidote. She felt as if she was being consumed, the world around her growing distant as she held his gaze. When he spoke her heart seemed to stop, and hearing him say what was so clearly written in his eyes was enough to make giddy. “Then I would will this song to last forever, so that we may never stop dancing,” she smiled, though the futility of her own words filled her with sorrow. The thought of what they would have had weighed down on her, the loss of it crushing her chest. “I never should have let her near you,” she whispered. They had been happy. If Morgause hadn’t hurt him they never would have been parted. She never would have agreed to marry someone else. But it was too late for that now. She was engaged to a king that beneath it all was a good man. She would wed him, and none of them would ever be satisfied. “I should have protected you, but I let you go.” She shook her head, loosing her footing. “Forgive me,” she lowered her gaze, her eyes growing glossy with tears she would not allow to fall. Not now. Not here. 

[lilxhoneypot-deactivated2018102]

How Urien ended up on his horse he didn’t even know. The night had been one filled with drink, and fun, and women - but he hadn’t touched any of them. His thoughts fully, wholly, and completely upon his bride to be. He decided then and there in his drunken state, one that surpassed any drunk he’d been since his early years as King, to profess his love to Princess Morgana. To come clean about Saoirse, to tell Morgana he was a changed man, and how beautiful she’d looked at the masquerade. To tell her he’d been wrong about so many things and Anna had helped him see that. All such thoughts swirling in his head as his steed sped through the outskirts of the forest. Before the King could make his way to town, however, he was struck. A blow to the abdomen, one to the head, and the hot, sticky, familiar scent of blood filled his nostrils. Darkness faded in and out around the drunk king. A hand reaching to his side looking down for a moment he watched as the crimson color stained his shirt. And with that, King Urien of Rheged felt the cold surrounding him. His gaze found the stars in the heavens, “I am not ready to die yet…”

[avalonspriestess]

After the ball Morgana had been left with a longing in her chest and a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. As she made her way through the streets of Camelot, intending to escape to Avalon once again, if only for a day or two, her mind and heart were at war. As easy as it was to annoy and bicker with Urien, she could not deny that she had come to care for him. The night they’d spent together and the comfort he’d provided her weighed heavily on the back of her mind, and while he could be beyond insufferable there was a kindness in him that she could not deny. He was a man of passion and impulse, and in  a strange way she admired his boldness. Maybe she even envied it. Still, she was not so selfish and foolish as to think that one could love two men. She knew who her heart belonged to, and while Urien seemed fond of her she hardly imagined that what he felt for her was love. It was strange to think that maybe, if things were different, they could have truly come to care for each other. Maybe not at first, and it surely wouldn’t be easy, but she imaged that marriage for them might one day lead to a kind of happiness Morgana had long forgotten. But that would never come to pass, for she could not imagine Urien loving her any more than she could imagine not loving Accolon. 

All of this was quickly forgotten by the sound of a started horse followed by a loud thud. She rounded the corner with a frown, her magic bubbling beneath her skin in preparation for danger. What she saw, however, was none other than King Urien. As she rushed to his side she could see the blood, even in the darkness. She threw herself to the ground besides him, eyes running over his body in concern. His words made her frown, and she wondered if he’d hit his head in the process of falling. She couldn’t see clearly enough, so she pressed her hands together, mumbling a small incantation. Gods, do not abandon me now. She whispered a silent prayer as she opened her hands once again and a small flame burst from her palm. She sighed in relief, though her victory was short lived as the firelight illuminated her betrothed. He was covered in blood, and as she suspected a great deal of it was coming from a blow to his head. “You are not going to die.” She whispered, almost angrily. “Listen to me, look at me. Your majesty. Damn it, Urien! I need you to stay with me. You’re going to be alright.” 

[avalonspriestess]

accolondugal:

Her hand was warm in his, and despite the fact that this time he could not blame it on how much he had been drinking he could not resist bringing it up to brush a light kiss over the back of her knuckles. As he led her out on to the dance floor it felt as if the years dropped away and they were once again those two young, barely more than children who had met by chance but found in each other something beautiful and golde. A fairytale was the perfect way to describe it - he only wished he could whisk her away to a happy ending. All he could do for now, though, was pull her close towards him as they started to dance and lean down towards her ear to say, “I will be whatever you wish me to be.” 

He brushed his lips against her knuckles and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She mentally chastised herself for behaving like a lovesick maiden, though she could not deny a small part of her felt relieved by the effect his touch had on her. It bought her a sense of comfort and belonging that she had feared was lost to her. He pulled her close to him and for a moment she let her eyes slip shut as he whispered in her ear. Her lips parted involuntarily and she quickly straightened her back, her eyes flying open as she tried to compose herself. She smiled at him, wanting so much more. “Then be happy, my Lord. What I want most in this world is for the people I love to find joy, and I cannot think of anyone I love more.” In every way. 

[avalonspriestess]

wielder-of-excalibur:

He sighed running a hand over his face as he did. “With the storm I haven’t had the time to think of anything else.” He admitted, sitting back in his seat and grimacing a little. It was straight backed and didn’t allow any room to recline, which was proving to be a little taxing on his back especially after hours of sitting in the blasted thing. “You didn’t get caught up in the storm did you?” He asked, casting a worried look in her direction. Despite what had happened he was still worried about her.

“Of course, I understand. I cannot imagine how busy you’ve been with everything, I’m just concerned about the alliance with Rheged,” she said quickly. “King Urien has been very generous with his help rebuilding the city after the storm, but I suspect that his generosity, and his patience, will not last forever.” It was only then that she noticed how weary he looked, and concern washed over her. For all their estrangement and discomfort he was still her brother, and he was a good man. A good King. “No, I was safe indoors during the worst of it. And you?” 

[avalonspriestess]

guineverethekind:

Guinevere brought Morgana close, holding her in her arms as she would hold her own sister. “Why do we stand here in the cold hall? Let us go sit in my chambers by the fire, then we can talk,” she suggested, giving her sister-in-law an encouraging squeeze before pulling back slowly.

When her brother’s wife wrapped her arms around her Morgana went stiff. It was only then that she realised how long it had been since she’d been held by anyone. The last person to comfort her had been her husband to be, and now she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She returned the queen’s embrace rather uncomfortably, but she was grateful for it nonetheless. “Truly, your majesty, I could not ask such a thing. I’m sure you  must be terribly busy.” 

[avalonspriestess]

accolondugal:

Seeing some of the brightness come back into her expression eased his mind a little, and he felt a quiet pride that even after so many years he still knew how to make her smile. Perhaps it was foolish, but making her happy had always seemed to him the worthiest thing he could ever accomplish. And although he had spoken to try and cheer her, he meant what he said; ro him, she outshone every woman in the room. Her request took him a little by surprise, but his features softened into a warm, affectionate smile. “I should like nothing more.” He bowed and held out a hand to her. “Your Highness.”

She curtseyed in response, taking her hand and following him out into the dance floor. Though they had spoken of love not too long ago, drunk on wine and the pleasure of each other’s company, dancing with him was something else. She was still amazed by how perfectly her hand seemed to fit in his, as if she were made for him. As if nothing had changed. “I feel like a Princess,” she said suddenly, surprising herself. She smiled at her own words, shaking her head. “Not like the daughter or sister of a king, with duties and responsibilities. I mean like a princess from a fairy tale. Like in those stories my mother used to tell me when I was a child, where the princess is whisked away by a dark and handsome man.” As they made their way to the centre of the hall she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Would you be my prince, Lord Accolon?” 

[avalonspriestess]

famouskingurien:

“Drunk?” He looked at her, “maybe a little but not nearly enough,” he replied with a slight laugh. “I always like a party, that is something you should know now and expect in the future,” he held out his hand for her to take, kissing her knuckle gently. “No shouting? What ever will we fill our time with?” He replied as he led her easily to the dance floor, bowing before her as if to still ask her permission. “I would be in your debt were you to dance with me, Princess Morgana,” he replied with ease. As he began their dance his eyes stay only on her visage. Her frame, the way she surprised him as he did her. They were putting on a face, one to show King Arthur that they intended upon seeing their wedding through. As they revolved around each other his eyes did not waiver. Not to the red head, not to his daughter or son, not to King Arthur, or Lot, they stay on her, his bride to be. “My mother taught me to dance, I was no more a boy then a King at the time, it was the last nice thing she did for me, before trying to kill me.” He explained. “It is quite nice to see a different expression on your face other than distaste.”

She had half expected him to take offence, but she actually smiled when he laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.” She didn’t have the intention of getting drunk herself, not when half the entire kingdom was present and there was so much at stake. Still, a goblet or two of wine would have been nice, though she supposed that if anyone approached her she would absolutely reek of alcohol. So much for good impressions. “Perhaps we can find things to throw at each other?” she suggested with a smile. “I see a perfectly good goblet of wine there just waiting to be tossed in your direction. It would only be fair.” She shrugged, still half expecting him to take her teasing the wrong way. First he was an arrogant arse, then he was kind and comforted her, then he reverted back to being a brute, and now he was a gentleman. At least they she had a whole lifetime ahead of her to try and figure him out. The thought was enough to make her wish she’d drank that goblet of wine. She let him lead her to the dance floor, mimicking his manners by curtsying in response to his bow. “It would be my honour, your majesty.” His gaze was trained on hers, and while she did not look away she found it mildly unsettling. She could no longer tell if he was doing it for the sake of their audience or if it was something else. There was a sudden sadness in his eyes that she had not seen before, and she did not have the heart to ask him about it. They were being civil for a change, and the last thing she wanted to do was upset him by prodding or making assumptions. Then again, he had comforted her while she wept, so didn’t she owe it to him? Before she had a chance to make up her mind he spoke and she almost lost her footing in surprise. She quickly composed herself, regaining her balance and maintaining a calm, if not cautious expression. “Forgive me, your majesty, I did not know of your mother’s... crime.” What else could she call it? 

[avalonspriestess]

accolondugal:

Accolon had determined that he would keep his distance from her tonight. To do anything else would only make it harder for both of them, when he knew she had her duty that she must fulfil - and he could not say if what it seemed they still felt was truly real, or just clinging to something long gone. But he could not help but be aware of her even as he was trying not to be, and he saw. He saw her husband-to-be leave her in pursuit of another woman (making anger burn low inside him; what kind of fool was he, not to see what he had?). He saw the expression on her face as she drifted through the crowd. And he could not bear it.

Like a moth to a flame, his feet led hm towards her. What he would say or do he didn’t know, but he could not abandon her, not when she looked so sad. He slowed as he reached her, to give himself time to choose his words, but took too long as she turned and ended up walking straight into him. “It was my fault, not yours. I’m sorry,” he said, paused and looked gently at her. No, you’re not fine, he knew, but it did not seem fair to say that. Instead he smiled and tried, “I was too eager to say hello to the most beautiful woman in the room. You must let me make it up to you somehow.”

When her eyes met his the frustration drained from her gaze. Of all the people she could have collided with she was glad it was Accolon, and the look of understanding and concern in his eyes was enough to warm her heart. “No, really, I wasn’t looking. My mind was elsewhere, as it often is,” she said, smiling sadly. At his words her smile widened at some of the light returned to her eyes. She had worn the gown to show loyalty to her brother, but as her handmaidens had pinned up her dark curls she’d hoped against reason and judgement that he would notice her. Only he could have brightened her night that way, and she wanted to thank him, though she wasn’t even sure for what. “Perhaps... you could dance with me?” 

[avalonspriestess]

famouskingurien:

Tilting her head up with his finger on her chin he searched her gaze. He’d made her unhappy. Then again, he’d made himself unhappy for he’d done exactly what he spent all evening trying not to do. Reaching for a cloth at his breast he tugged it out and gently dabbed at the spot. “Thank heavens for red wine and red dresses,” he teased gently ready for her to spit fire at him and that was fine. He deserved it, he’d left her there to fend for herself even if he had tried not to. “It is I who should be apologizing,” he reached over filling her goblet and setting the jug back on the buffet.  Taking her hand he brushed her knuckles with his thumb. Motioning to the dance floor, “One for good face then I’ll let you shout at me until your hearts content, agreeable?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. All of her handmaiden’s work seemed to be for naught as her now sticky gown clung to her body. At his words she chuckled slightly despite herself, thanking the gods with amusement that she hadn’t worn a white dress. He took out a cloth, though it was of little help as she had filled the goblet to the brim, and it’s entire contents were now dripping on her body. His words as well as the gentleness of his actions took her by surprise and she stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if he was toying with her. She was half expecting the look in his eyes to change suddenly and for him to yell at her or make some crude comment, but he didn’t. Instead he refilled her goblet took her hand. She looked down at it in surprise, as if it was not her own. After a moment she looked back up at him with a small smile, feeling almost defeated but in a good way. “Are you drunk, or have the festivities simply put you in a good mood?" she teased gently “I’m too tired for shouting tonight, and I think you and I have already filled our monthly quota of arguments. I would be honoured to dance with you, King Urien.” 

[avalonspriestess]

While she had arrived at the ball with King Urien her husband to be had quickly made himself scarce. The moment a pretty young redhead walked past him he chased after her and vanished into the crowd. As a result she’d spent the rest of the evening on her own, making her way through the dancing crowd in an attempt to avoid her her brother and her sister, as well as anyone else who might ask her to dance. She felt lost among the laughter and music, feeling alone but at the same time not wanting to be with anyone. After a while she poured herself a glass of wine, at the very least to give her hands something to do. However, when she turned around she collided with another figure, spilling her drink. By some miracle she managed not to get any on the other person, instead drenching her own gown in wine. “That’s... just.... fantastic.” She sighed, setting down the goblet. “It’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m sorry.” 

[avalonspriestess]

Morgana’s heart has never truly been her own. Whoever she loves, whoever she serves, whoever she is meant to marry… It doesn’t matter. Her loyalty will always belong to her kingdom, for she is a princess before she is a woman. She shows up to the ball wearing a red and gold god, the colours of the Pendragon reign. Her messy curls are pinned up loosely on her had and she wears and red and gold mask with a large rose. She walks in hand in hand with her husband to be, King Urien of Rheged.