Morgana And The Magpie

Asgard:

When Odin's sons wished to discuss private matters they'd gather their hunting tools and escape to Asgard's stunning forest. Within the peaceful oasis they'd find refuge away from young maidens who gawked at them and tutors who chastised them. Admittedly the four sons; Thor, Tyr, Baldr and Loki's true reason for having fled Asgard's grand castle was to keep a distance between themselves and King Odin's judgmental glances.

Their father was constantly scolding them lately for their scandalous behavior. With each day that brought them closer to meeting their brides-to-be, their behavior grew more outrageous and tiresome for their father. Baldr's numerous lovers tripled in number and he became more careless about where he bedded them, on two occasions he'd been discovered in Odin's bedchamber. Tyr's fiery temperament erupted to new heights, which resulted in violent outbursts to anyone in his reach; a cabin boy now lays on bedrest for a year due to Tyr. Thor's love of ale excelled his grandest records, not only did it threaten his health, but it threatened to dry out Asgard's supply of the liquor. Loki's tricks now happened on a daily basis, his latest victim was Sif's fair hair. Loki attempted to correct his mistake though that ended horribly. Odin was forced to exile Sif from the castle in fear of her beheading his youngest son.

If one were to ask the four sons regarding their King's recent attitude towards them, then they'd have simultaneously answered with. "He's suffocating us!"

With their bounty in tow they gathered around a roaring fire that night. Tyr busied himself by butchering trees with his golden ax. Baldr took to retrieving his arrows from the animals he'd slaughtered for sport. Thor roasted four deer and a few wide-eyed salmon for their feast. The ale was plentiful that night yet the atmosphere lacked the carefree nature the brothers were accustomed to on hunts like these.

Thor's gaze was set on the flames as they danced and pleaded for more wood to quench their unyielding hunger. Without the slightest warning Loki's hand clasped down on the Crown Prince's shoulder. Thor found himself taken aback by his brother's sudden presence.

"You look troubled, brother. Has your mind run wild with thoughts of her?" Loki asked with care.

Thor mustered up a false smile and patted his brother's hand.

"You're mistaken, Loki. I'm merely overtaken with the task before me. Dare I say I might burn our dinner?" Thor gave a throaty laugh, an amused expression on his face. He successfully maneuvered away from revealing his true thoughts.

Tyr dropped his ax; he joined in with a chuckle. Baldr tilted his head to the side, a single arrow in his grasp, and Loki let out a knowing sigh.

"Loki you fool! Unlike you, Thor doesn't need to fret over women," Tyr said with a cruel smile.

Loki snapped his head in Tyr's direction. A faint mixture of ache and distain appeared on the lie-smith's features before it was replaced with a raised brow and a smirk. Baldr averted his eyes knowing what such a look meant when produced by the trickster.

"Do tell me, Tyr. Have you ever considered why we're constantly referred to as Odin's sons? Opposed to the proper title of Princes of Asgard? Especially by our countrymen? " Loki circled Tyr like a cat about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. He paused his strides to add, "Here's a hint, it's because of you two." Loki eyed Tyr and Baldr.

Tyr crossed his arms while he thought it over. He recalled noblemen and women of Asgard, on countless occasions whispering such.

"Odin's sons."

Baldr grabbed Tyr from the shoulders to face him. He peeked into the hazel eyes that matched his own.

"Please brother. I beg of you! Ignore Loki, he only serves to fuel your anger."

Thor eyes darted from Loki to Tyr. His hand skillfully latched onto the handle of his hammer, he was prepared for the worst.

"Anger? I have no anger in my soul. I am a peaceful man." Tyr displayed great restraint while he projected a false sense of calm.

Loki's smirk deepened, his dimples were showing. He crossed the path between himself and the wide man to whisper, "Is that so bastard?"

Tyr's face became as red as his hair. His nostrils flared. His lower jaw protruded and his wrist twisted in a manner to free his ax from the ground. He shoved Baldr out of the way then sliced in Loki's direction. Loki's ecstatic voice filled the forest while he taunted his opponent. The skillful trickster ducked and laughed when Tyr tumbled headfirst into an illusion of the youngest of Odin's son.

"I see you're as slow as ever, bastard." The song-like tone to the lie-smith's voice enraged the man with the ax.

Tyr focused enough to thrash his weapon at Loki's unprotected neck when Thor stepped in. The blond's hand halted the blade in its tracks. He shielded Loki from the fatal attack. Blood trickled down Thor's arm, then his elbow. His furious blue eyes made Tyr grow pale.

"You would have murdered him. Your own brother!" Thor shouted.

"Bu-but Thor, you must understand that half-bred was belittling me an- - -" Tyr began to speak.

"Half-bred!? " The outrage in Loki's voice was clear as daylight.

"Loki, don't interfere! " Baldr demanded in an uneasy voice.

Thor turned to Loki with a bewildered expression. His eyes pleaded for an answer, he received none. Loki in turn sent a chilling stare to Baldr.

Tyr caught the exchange and bellowed out a ground-shaking laugh. He let go of his ax and grabbed hold of his abdomen whilst he chuckled.

"You hadn't known! To think that the great Thor wasn't aware that Loki is a mere monster. Here I thought you two were so close," Tyr said.

Thor's fingers dug into Tyr's fur vest. He pulled Tyr forward.

"Explain!" Thor yelled.

"Thor! You mustn't misplace your anger onto our brother! Loki is at fault here not Tyr. The trickster seems to have deceived us all. I'm sorry, Thor." Baldr's calming tone floated in the breeze.

"Ha! Mocking me for being a bastard when you yourself are one!" Tyr laced his words with disgust at the youngest sibling. He pointed an accusing finger at the dark haired man.

"You've no clue who I am. I suspect you never will, but understand this, I'm no bastard! I am a prince! " Loki protested.

"Oh, a prince aye? Of Asgard? Baldr told me everything Loki. Of the promise you forced upon him to keep," Tyr replied.

He leaned in closer and whispered so as to shield his words from Thor's ears.

"I may not know everything about Asgard. I may not be as clever nor as cunning as you, though I understand one thing rather well. Asgardians like myself, Thor, and Baldr don't change our skins to a rotting shade of blue," He spat the last of his words.

Loki's pupils widened and he clenched his fists at his sides.

"Enough of this speculation! Loki is one of us. He is our brother. Without proof I won't even entertain your accusations, Tyr," Thor muttered.

Loki made haste to put on his most devious smile before he pushed past Tyr. He stopped only to strike Baldr with a look of disappointment. He withdrew from his brothers' company to enter the dark forest that only an hour ago was his heaven.

Thor called out to him, Loki only moved at a quicker pace. He came across many ravished trees, courtesy of Tyr's destructive nature. He kneeled down to gently grab at a thick branch that barely fit into his hand. He recalled earlier in the day when Baldr harshly mocked this species of tree. He mentioned that its leaves were too small for any use and its bark inferior to wider trees, which were true natives of Asgard's forest. Thus this damaged tree was worthless in Baldr's eyes because it's origins came from another realm.

Loki's expression gradually changed from a sympathetic one into a cunning grin. He took out his sharp dagger and worked without rest on the disgraced branch. He finished what he set out to do with a triumphant smirk.

"What a fine spear you make, dear mistletoe."

He tossed the spear made from the mistletoe's tree from his right hand to his left. He did this as a means to measure its weight. He wondered how he would go about introducing the mistletoe's true power to Baldr.

Morgana:

A heart-rattling scream escaped her lips. Her hair plastered to her heated skin. Her chest heaved while she gasped to capture her breath. She woke in a bedchamber not her own. Her nightmares had visited her tonight as they had the night before. Morgana regained her wits and recalled her arrival into the welcoming gates of Asgard that morning.

Camelot's princess rested her face in her trembling hands. She proceeded to conjure up pleasant memories to control her throbbing heart. She moved her right hand down to the organ. It felt as though it was thrashing in her rib cage, as if about to thrust out of her body.

"I'm awake. I'll be alright," She whispered softly.

Sweat dripped down her forehead. She pushed the bedcovers off and took to locating her traveling trunk.

Morgana remembered meeting her future husband that morning. He was charming, handsome, and well spoken. He thought to comfort her about their future, promised her that she'd be the only woman for him. That no other would dare come between them from this day forward. The man was said to be honorable and cherished by his people. He would make a fine husband for her, she thought.

In her traveling trunk Morgana found the purple bottle her sister had hidden, wrapped in a blue scarf. A sigh of relief bubbled out of the princess' chest. She arranged a change of clothes, a navy lengthy dress that was plainer than any other she owned. Her infamous nightmares dictated that she leave her bed each night, regardless of the hour.

Asgard's finest guards stood outside her room and they were under strict orders to keep her safe in her room till daylight broke. Morgana was aware that she was obliged to follow such simple rules, however her restless mind didn't take kindly to following another man's rules.

"Damn such rules," Morgana said to herself.

She slid out of her nightgown and slipped into the floor length navy blue dress. Her hair cascaded down her left shoulder and her eyes twinkled with mischief. She tugged on the lid of the purple bottle and sniffed it. She almost gagged from the horrifically pungent smell. Regardless, she pinched her nose, shut her eyes, and drank it quickly.

The bottle dropped to the ground and her head started to spin. She fell to her knees and crawled to the full-length mirror near the window. Upon lifting her head, she smirked. The reflection of the woman who stared back at her was an old hag with wrinkles overlapping deeper wrinkles. Her dark brown wavy hair now transformed into a white mop of straight thinning hair. She got to her feet and laughed once as the potion set completely.

She escaped her room without the slightest of attention sent her way. She roamed the castle hallways of Asgard with a crooked smile on her new features. Suddenly she heard from beneath the flight of wide stairs grunts and thrashing. She ran to see who caused such commotion.

What Morgan witnessed surprised her. The back of a large man stood with his arms raised high above his head. In his hands was another man; he however was sheltered from her sight by the darkness. The moon in the background wrapped around the man's silhouette, beyond that she couldn't see much.

She calculated the scene before her of broken walls and destruction. The unfamiliar scene had Morgana on the verge of turning her back however she stopped. Without so much as a moment of clear thought she lurked out of the darkness and sent a curse at the beast of the man. He fell instantly with his victim in tow.

Morgana immediately rushed to the man who had been lifted in the air. She looked with an unknown urgency. There was no one other than the man she'd attacked. Had she imagined it all?

Near her feet a bird entered her line of sight. The bird was mostly black other than the white on his chest.

She gazed down at it and it in turn tilted its head.

"It appears you wish to play the part of a hero," The bird said in a voice that sounded like that of a crow's yells.

She bent down and smiled at the bird. Her eyes focused on the magical creature.

"Since I'd hate to live forever in your debt, old woman. I will return your stupid act as my savior with one of my own. I grant you my services on three occasions. Call upon me whenever you are in need." He lowered himself to give a fleeting bow of his head.

Morgana was consumed with joy. For she had witnessed a masterful sorcerer change his appearance with such ease. The princess couldn't help but grasp her hands together to ask, "What name do I call upon for you? Who are you?"

The bird abandoned the jubilant woman and flew to a fixture across the room. She glanced up at him.

"Call out to the magpie, of course. I will answer your summons. As for who I am, know this. I am he who deceives. I am he who disguises. I am he who shouldn't be trusted," he answered in a menacing tone.

Morgana instinctively took two strides back; she neglected to consider the man on the ground. She was about to trip on him but halted in her tracks. She considered the bird's warning yet still she said to him. "Such traitorous traits in such an enchanting bird. I can not help but wonder why you'd offer me your protection when you are neither trustworthy nor forthcoming about your name?"

The bird in response puffed up his chest and flapped his wings in an agitated manner. "You're clearly no simpleton. The truth is that you intrigue me, witch." the magpie answered.

Morgana's jaw dropped and her heart raced. Tonight in that fleeting moment, it would be the first time a soul ever referred to her as a witch.

She regained her composure and lifted her head in an elegant manner.

"Show me true sorcery, magpie," she demanded.

"Offer me a lock of your hair and I shall," the bird replied smoothly.

Morgana felt a sense of uneasiness to the magpie's words.

"Can I trust you with it?" She mindlessly touches a few strands of her white hair.

"You can not. However, I will offer you a feather off my luxurious wing in exchange for a lock of your hair," he responded swiftly.

Morgana pondered it over and decided this frail, white hair was not truly hers thus she had nothing to fear from him cursing it or her. She agreed and took to withdrawing a dagger from the Asgardian on the floor. She cut two fingers thick of her hair.

The magpie true to his word tugged on a shiny black feather with his beak. With the feather, now in the clasp of his beak as he flew down to the stranger.

She extended her arm and opened the palm of her hand. The creature dropped the feather in Morgana's grasp then withdrew with the white hair clutched in his claws.

"Farewell, witch. I pray this be our last encounter and you never have need of my assistance." He disappeared from her line of vision., and flew straight to the moon.

Morgana Pendragon returned to her room with child-like excitement in her steps. She fell fast asleep that night and dreamt of a coat of arms that had three ravens and two joined black lines on it. The face of the man that held the shield was forgotten as soon as she woke from her deep slumber.

Merlin knocked then entered her room with a boyish grin. Both he and Arthur would be staying till their departure in a week.

"Princess Morgana, how have you slept?" He asked earnestly.

She stretched her arms out with a lazy smile on her face.

His toothy grin apparent, he then took note of something black in Morgana's right hand.

"What is that?" Merlin said as he pointed.

Sleepily she opened her hand and strands of charcoal black hair fell out. Her eyes popped open and Merlin studied the hair.

"Merlin, I can - -" she began to speak but stopped.

"This isn't your hair. Frankly, it's too dark to be yours or mine for that matter," he murmured.

She gulped, this was magic. Morgana understood that the feather changed to its original form once it's master returned to his true self. She began to fret since the discovery meant that she had entrusted her true locks in the hands of a sorcerer who admitted he couldn't be trusted. She leapt out of bed and gathered the strands of foreign hair, frantically. If he wished to have a magical hold on her then she would have one on him. She hated that trickster, that magpie.