Freya flits between the trees in the small grove right outside the castle, looking fay and serene. Morgana's chest pangs at the sight, and silently curses Uther for not allowing her to take Freya out of the castle more often; it's unnatural for any creature to stay inside as long as Freya is forced to, and more so creatures of magic, but then Uther was never known for being particularly understanding on the subject of magic. Morgana sighs and leans against a silvery birch, and tenderly watches Freya as she leans down to breathe in the sweet smell of snapdragons. Morgana's longing thrums in her blood and settles heavy over her heart, but still she turns the other way; it's one thing for Uther to let her keep a magic user as what he sees as little more than a pet, but if he knew she was falling for one, and a woman, he'd have both their heads. Morgana snaps out of her daze when Freya comes bounding towards her, glowing with pride and glee, dozens of flowers clutched in her hands. Morgana smiles softly at her in return, and her remaining anger melts like the last snow of winter.