Making Amends || The Priestess and the King
@kingofrheged
She hated him. She bloody hated him. In all her life Morgana had never met anyone as infuriating as her future husband. If he was so unhappy with their arrangement then why didn’t he just call it off? They would make each other miserable, the lot of them. And all of what? Surely he could find some other wench to bear his child. But even as she stormed around her chambers, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, another thought seemed to creep into the back of her mind. For only a moment when she had walked into his chambers the previous day there had been... something. She didn’t know what it was or what it meant but for only a second she’d found herself believing there was more to him. In hindsight it was probably just a trick of the light or her own fanciful mind toying with her, but already the anger seemed to be seeping out of her. She sat on the edge of her bed with a tired sigh, running her hands over her face. If they continued this way they’d end up murdering one another before they even had a chance to conceive a child. She looked over at the box on her counter as an idea formed in her mind. She still couldn’t quite picture herself in the gown he’d gotten her, but wearing it seemed like a start if they were ever going to make amends and learn to live with each other. Besides, some of the things he’s said in the heat of their argument hadn’t sounded that bad; her own wing of the castle, her own bed, her own lovers... could she really do that?
Morgana sighed and made her way across her chambers, taking the gown out of the box. The delicate scarlet fabric was hardly unpleasant. She’d never worn anything like it, despite being a princess she’d taken after the Priestesses of Avalon and wore simple white gowns. She’d never even owned something so elaborate. With reluctance she undressed, not bothering to call her handmaiden to help her, though she did struggle to slip into the crimson dress and tie the laces in the back. Once she was finally dressed she examined her reflection in the mirror with a critical eye. It was more revealing than anything else she’d ever worn, and she found herself squirming slightly, trying to pull up the neckline and loosen her bodice to no avail. After giving up with the dress she readied herself to leave, but hesitated at the door. After a moment of reluctance she removed the ribbon that held her hair in a tight braid, letting her dark locks fall loosely around her shoulders. She didn’t feel like herself, but perhaps, considering how she usually felt, that was a good thing.
Her determined footsteps echoed down the halls as she made her way to Urien’s chambers. She knocked on the door to his room with some force and to her surprise the door swung open. Without further ado she walked in, taking in her surroundings. Wherever he’d gone he must have left in a hurry, having forgotten to lock the door to his chambers. A part of her wanted to take this as a sign, she simply wasn’t meant to speak with him that evening. She should turn around and go back to her own chambers and back into more comfortable clothes. Instead she took a seat in front on his desk, crossing her arms over her chest as she struggled to make herself comfortable. It’s difficult to say how much time passed before her eyelids grew heavy and she lifted her feet off the ground to curl up in the small wooden seat, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her cheek against her knees. The fire died out in the chimney and she barely shivered. The last thing she remembered was thinking to herself that she could almost pass for a happy bride, eagerly waiting for her husband to come home to her...