#ofmorgana

@ofmorgana

Gwen loathed being forced to go into towns and cities to lure in the audiences for her mistress’ caravan. She hated it.

And yet...

It was the only time she could be free, be herself. The only time she could almost ignore the collar that rested so snug around her throat, cleverly disguised as a pretty black choker with an emerald pendant.

Mary Collins--the Lady Helen, self-proclaimed Keeper of Fantastic Creatures and Oddities--kept her on a tight leash. Gwen could leave the caravan, but only when she went with Mary’s son Tommy to attract an audience wherever they’d stopped. Trying to run or leave without him by her side was out of the question.

Dancing and using her natural abilities--marked clearly for anyone who knew what the golden “tattoo” signified to see--to attract audiences was the only way she could pretend she had a life of her own.

And so...she danced, shifting forms in a whirl of colour every time Tommy snapped his fingers.

Snap!

A mahogany brown fox with markings akin to gold flames on its neck and shoulder leapt and snapped its sharp little teeth at droplets of water from the nearby fountain.

Snap!

A peacock with the same colour and markings flared its tail to show the eyes on its feathers were also golden.

Snap!

Now a panther prowled around the edge of the crowd.

Snap!

Tragic??????

Morgana felt her heart ache as she watched the poor girl. She didn’t know Will, but seeing Merlin and Arya mourn for him reminds her of when her family and friends died during the attacks. “Usually I’d tell you you’re too young.” She squeezed her arm, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “But this is the kind of pain no child should go through. I’m sorry we couldn’t save him. Magic or not, he had more honor than most people here.”

She knows she’s been sipping at Morgana’s own wine, but Arya has not been the same mischievous girl since she returned to Camelot. The same girl who sassed the crown prince, the King even, before biting her tongue at his reprimands. 

She did not know how she had washed up on Camelot’s shores all those years ago. All she knew was her name, and that her mama and papa could not come and get her. She suspected that Uthred knew where she had come from, but at three she had not thought of it. Yet, Rhaenys is a woman grown now, and as much of Camelot as the rest of them, Uthred’s son, his other ward Morgana... speak of the devil.