Chapter Note: This is unbelievably short, and for that I apologise, but it is really just a filler for me to continue on into the heart of the story
"My lady... Morgana, please come out. Tell me who has upset you this way. Surely, it is not so serious." Guinevere begged with the flatted changing screen behind which her lady hid, distraught as she was the moment she had rushed through the door. Gwen was entirely uncertain at who or what could have caused Morgana to react the way that she currently was, the girl usually so tenacious and full of life, only this despondent after one of her night terrors. Guinevere scooped up the cloth of her skirts and tried to move behind the screen once more, but her lady gave a sound of displeasure and pulled the screen closer to the wall. The room grew colder as though the heat were seeping out of it, and Gwen gave a small shiver as a voice sounded through the door.
"Morgana." Arthur Pendragon beckoned through the heavy syrup-coloured maplewood, his fist making hollow knocks against the door. Guinevere was unsure hat to do, but Morgana's head stuck out quickly from behind the screen, her pale eyes wideset in the porcelain frame of her face. Her head shook vigorously, the black tangles of her hair flailing about. With a sigh, the handmaid rushed to the door and pulled it open to face her prince, a smile kissing her lips.
"Sire. I don't believe that Lady Morgana wants company at the moment. Her time is rather occupied by... reading. The lady has become infatuated with poetry." The lies sounded unnatural and foreign in the air, and tasted acrid of Gwen's tongue, but were only slightly placated by the grin that rested on her cocoa coloured features. And yet the young prince did not believe the words which Guinevere spoke.
"I know that is not true, Gwen. Morgana is upset, I know as much."
"Forgive me, Sire. My lady did not want company, I thought it best to falsify her agitation only in case you did not know."
"I am not angry, Guinevere. But I must see my sister, please allow me in."
In no position to deny a prince entrance, the young handmaid moved aside, her skirts sweeping the floor as she pulled the door open further to allow the man in. Watching his blonde cap of hair walk toward her mistress, Guinevere felt as though she were intruding, looking in on a moment that was no business of hers. Deciding it best, the girl began to move toward the door, choosing to attend to other chores, but a far more composed Morgana spoke then, freezing her in her tracks.
"Gwen, please stay. This is... relevant to you as well." Morgana gave a smile to her servant before her head turned to her brother, the pale green of her eyes becoming fearful, but strong. The siblings watched one another carefully and curiously, Morgana looking as though she awaited judgment, and Arthur strong and ready to judge. Guinevere was extremely confuse, yet she tucked her dark ringlets behind her ear and continued to watch.
"You are my sister, Morgana. You are the daughter of Camelot, a Pendragon. And therefore, you will be allowed to stay in Camelot, alive. But under no circumstances are you to use your... magic." The word was choked from his lips, and while Morgana collapsed in something like happiness, Guinevere stared at the pair, eyes widening unhealthily. For everything that she could have guessed, never in her life would Guinevere say Morgana possessed magic. How very wrong she was.