Note: cover was created by Lulu2222 on deviantart

For the first time, Morgiana examined her reflection closely. It was a strange experience, realizing she was this solid body, not a ghost examining the world.

Red hair stood out immediately, both damning her and saving her at the same time. Then she noticed the intensity of her red eyes, almost animalistic in their gaze.

She continued taking note of her features: muscular legs, short height, dirty skin. At that moment it occurred to her that she was what most people considered pretty.

Pretty. The idea sent a shiver down her spine. Most girls probably would have loved to be that, but it was a curse for slaves. It meant instead of mentioning her strength or subservient nature they'd call her a pretty, little thing. Three simple words, but even at a young age, Morgiana knew their intentions.

At that moment, she hated herself: Morgiana hated her Fanalis heritage and the scars that decorated her back. Why'd she have to be given this miserable life? A pathetic slave doomed to be too weak to change anything? She was tempted to try to disfigure herself in someway, maybe she wouldn't have to fear being seen as a prize for slave owners. However that could have even worse consequences. If her face was marred, she could be perceived as a troublemaker, and Lord knows she needed to avoid that at all costs.

Slowly, a single tear drifted down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it and moved on to her next task. It was pointless to bemoan a fate such as her's.

It's years later when Morgiana remembers that event from long ago. Immediately she stood up to look in a mirror, she had seen her reflection many times by now, but she wanted to compare her first impression with how she'd had changed.

Longer red hair was just as noticeable as before, but it no longer filled her with dread. And while the same feral glare welcomed her, there was a slight softness behind it.

All her baby fat her cheeks used to hold had been lost, though a certain roundness remained. More taunt muscle lined her figure, but she couldn't deny traces of femininity still linger. She was a women now.

Again, Morigana was reminded that she was pretty. While chains didn't hold her back anymore, the thought still made her feel uneasy. It's not like she minded it so much anymore (Her face still flushed when she remembered a certain someone's compliments) she felt it was a useless trait. She rather be helpful than simply pleasant to look at.

At that moment, Morigana was angry at herself. She didn't know why. Maybe it was because she shouldn't take pride in such trivial things but a small part of herself still did. Maybe because she viewed it as proof she could be stronger. While she didn't have prominent curves like the women she saw in the whorehouse Aladdin and Alibaba visited, (why didn't she feel upset at remembering that?!), they were there and seemed to scream weakness. If she wanted to be as strong as Masrur, they had to go.

But still that did not settle her. She liked her beauty strangely. It wasn't only because of the compliments, but because it was a feature that wasn't needed, something that was simply part of herself.

What was she thinking? Morgiana felt more confused than before. She wanted to be strong to protect her friends, but no matter what she told herself she still wanted to enjoy this useless trait. She hated it as a slave, and while the scars on her back still lingered, she wasn't a slave anymore. She wouldn't be a little decoration for some rich man, right?

Morgiana sighed as she played with a strand of red hair. Was it selfish to enjoy something that wasn't needed? Was it wrong to want something now that she wouldn't have to deal with painful consequences of it?

Morgiana glanced quickly at the mirror, trying to hide her nervousness. It seemed like eons from the last time she had studied her appearance so fervently.

Her red hair was even longer, now a sense of pride for her people. The intensity of her gaze had never gone away, but it was much lighter, happier if it made sense.

And now a small smile was much easier to pull off. She tried one on in the mirror: shaky but genuine.

"Ready to go?" She turned to Alibaba standing next to her, draped in clothes just as fine as her's.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Tentatively she rested her arm in the crook of his.

"You look beautiful, Mor." Golden eyes soften at those words.

"Yes," She took a deep breath. "And it's ok that I'm pretty."

"It's very ok that your pretty." He repeated.

"I can still be strong-"

"You're the strongest person I know-"

"And it's ok to want this." Morgiana finished the chant. Years of experience had helped lessen her insecurities, but they'd never truly go away, just as the scars on her back would never completely fade.

"You're gonna be fine." Alibaba smiled gently as he bended down to kiss the corner of her mouth. "They're just a little excited to meet their new queen."

Morgiana nodded in agreement, though her hands still trembled. "I'm going to be fine."

At that moment, she tried to love herself. She was no longer a slave, she could still protect her friends, It didn't mean she couldn't take pride in her appearance. Even if it didn't slay any foes, she wasn't useless.

No she wasn't useless.

With renewed hope, the couple stepped out onto the balcony.

A.N. Really need to get back to Flower of Fire, but I was in an alimor mood today, uwu, I feel like Mor would have this real warped sense of beauty, so this is an attempt to untangle some of them