Uther Pendragon struck an impressive figure; standing in front of the throne, garbed in full ceremonial regalia which included his massive golden crown, he was perhaps the most extraordinary man Morgana had ever laid eyes on. Of course, it would have been impolite for her to stare directly at the king, and so Morgana kept her eyes focused on the man's shiny black boots, only occasionally sneaking glances upwards at his clothes and face.
To his right, the king's young son stood back a few paces behind his father. Prince Arthur was eleven, a year older than Morgana, with golden blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. He was fidgeting, obviously bored with the fact that he had to meet some girl rather than train this morning.
"Vivian!" Uther quickly made his way down the dais towards Morgana and her mother.
"Your Majesty." Vivian responded, dipping in to a low curtsey. But Morgana noticed there was something tight in her mother's voice, a sharp edge that was artfully concealed beneath a thin layer of cool politeness. Vivian's hand reached out and rested on the small of her daughter's back, a gentle signal that Morgana too should bow to the king.
She did, gracefully recovering from her late reaction so that no one was the wiser. Morgana Le Fay may not have spent her life raised in a castle, but Vivian had raised her to be a proper court lady.
"And this," She felt Uther's eyes shift to her. "Must be the young Lady Morgana."
Morgana, still not looking upward, gave a slight bob of her head. "Yes, Your Majesty."
For some reason the king must have found that funny, because his booming laugh echoed throughout the room. He cupped her chin beneath his hand and gently coaxed her to look at him. "My child," He told her. "There's no need for such formality." Uther smiled at her. "Welcome to Camelot Morgana, I hope that you will be very happy here."
As the king stared down at her, Morgana took the opportunity to study him as well. He had a handsome face, even with the deep lines that had etched themselves around his eyes and mouth; some from laughter, but nowadays most from worry. He was still young, only thirty, but his thick dark hair was already streaked with sharp lines of grey. His eyes were warm as they gazed at her, and they reminded Morgana of the way her father would look at her whenever he came home, and she decided that she could grow to like this man.
"We'll feast tonight," Uther's eyes glimmered. "To celebrate your arrival, and in two days time there'll be a tourney."
Morgana's eyes widened. A feast? For her? And a tourney! She had begged her mother and father to take her to Camelot's famous tourneys, so that she could watch the knights compete against one another in the games. And now, the king himself had not only granted her his permission, but had arranged the entire thing for her! Uther turned to his son. "Arthur!" He called. "Stop standing their boy, and come greet your new foster sister!"
The prince, cheeks burning with embarrassment, hurried to his father's side. He took Morgana's hand in his, bowed at the waist and said, "Welcome to Camelot, milady." He smiled a roguish, utterly boyish grin and some of her fear began to melt away.
"It's been a long day," Her mother said suddenly. "With your permission, we should retire for a few hours."
"Of course!" Uther signaled to a pair of guards. "These men will escort you to your chambers."
Vivian bowed once more. "Thank you." She took her daughter's hand. "Come Morgana."
Their rooms were larger than any Morgana had ever seen. Spacious yes, but also furnished with beds, couches, trunks and closets that Morgana could stand in, and still have plenty of room to wriggle around. She knew of course because she couldn't resist trying. She sat on the edge of the bed while her mother ran a fine toothed comb through her long black hair.
"You'll be safe here." Vivian told her. "Uther Pendragon is a good man, and he promised your father that he would watch over you. But you must be good Morgana, even when it is hard to be. You don't want to anger a man like the king." The nibs of the comb dragged across Morgana's scalp, making her sleepier than she already was. "He's done much for us, for both of us." Her voice trailed off. Vivian stopped combing and gathered her child in to her arms. She whispered something, some kind of blessing Morgana couldn't understand. "Gefriðsumu, hreðer." but the words had been so soft, maybe she had imagined it.
"How long will you stay?" Morgana asked, her voice sleepy.
"Until after the tourney." Her mother promised. Vivian knew there'd be no excuse that Uther would accept that would allow her to leave before at least then. She did not want to leave Morgana, especially not here, especially not with him…but she had had no choice. Gorlois was dead, Morgana needed to be kept safe, and Vivian could think of no better place than right under Uther's very nose.
That night at the feast there were musicians, jugglers, acrobats, people everywhere! And the food! Morgana loved food; eating always helped her to feel better. But she noticed her mother barely ate, only sampling a bite or two from each dish, and so she tried to do the same. She didn't want the king to think she was a glutton.
The evening past by in a blur, and by the time she crawled in to her bed Morgana was exhausted even in her bones. Her mother slept beside her, strong arms wrapped around the little girl as if Vivian feared someone would pluck Morgana from her in the middle of the night. Morgana's eyes were heavy, and without minutes she was fast asleep.
And that night, was the very last Morgana Le Fay slept without the nightmares.