Tempest [Arthur]

[troy]

Morgana smiled darkly to herself as she stood in her old room, the room she had been away from for only a short year. Her time with Morgause had gone well and she was in high reguards with her sister. She ran her hands lightly over her things that she had left behind. It appears that Gwen had kept her things in good condition while she had been gone. Such a good friend.. Morgana thought to herself as a gentle smile pulled at her lips before it was gone. She slowly lowered herself to her bed as she heard someone coming closer, and by judgeing the strides of the person coming closer she was guessing it was Arthur.

Uther would barely leave her side and she had to do her very best to cringe and act like the helpless female who had been held captive for a whole year. Morgana's facial features easily changed back to the cowering simpleton that Uther so believed her to be. She rubbed her arms as if she where cold and then jumped when she heard the door. "Arthur.." She said softly as she looked up at him.

[Arthur Pendragon]

For once . . . something had gone right. Upon seeing the devastating sight of all those knights dead, they had also found the woman, who's absence ached the heart of many in Camelot: Morgana. It was lucky. No, lucky was an understatement. It was more than that, but that was the only word that Arthur could think of right now. He was overwhelmed with joy that she was back, that she was safe. There were some who had given up hope, believing that after a year, there was no way she was still alive. But both who were not ready to admit such an unimaginable thought, were not disappointed. He had been able to bring her home before any further harm came to her. He had been able to tell the King that his ward was back, before he continued to use such extreme measures to find her. He could tell Guinevère that her best friend was back in Camelot.

It was a good day, to say the very least.

Among all this rejoice and cause for celebration, Arthur still felt that horrible pang of guilt. Guilt that he had not protected her better. Guilt that he had not found her sooner. Guilt . . . over whatever harm and torture she suffered in the past year. This was not something he was looking forward to hearing, but knew he had to ask. He had to make sure that the woman who was so dear to his heart, the woman who he had grown up with, and loved, and came to call a sister . . . was alright. Maybe physically she was, but emotionally, psychologically . . . that could be a very different story.

Once Gaius had finished checking up on her, he took the opportunity to see her. He had enough time to change out of his armor and chain mail so now was merely glad in his regular attire. He lightly knocked on the door before entering, seeing her lie on her bed. She looked so week. So worn. It pained his heart to see her in such a state, and gave him this surge of anger to make those who had inflicted such harm on her, to pay. "Am I disturbing you?" He asked in a soft voice, not wanting to strain her any more, considering she must be absolutely exhausted. Though, he hoped she would not reject his company. He had longed for this moment every day she was missing, and now that it was here, he did not know how to act in it.

[troy]

Many things where running threw the young Seer's mind when she first saw Arthur standing in her room, but the one main thing that did run threw her mind was that she had missed him dearly. Hating Uther or not, she had not changed in her love for Arthur. But that love for him would not be the ending of the plan Morgause had entrusted her with. She would not fail her sister, no matter how much it cost her heart if she had to hurt Arthur, the ultimate win would be to convert Arthur to her own side. But that would come in all due time. She would be patient and work this from many different angles, but for now all she had to worry about was convincing Arthur that she was still the woman that had left a year ago. Even if she had to pretend to be frail and weak and still very afraid of everything.

Her eyes where wide and looked haunted. She looked thin and malnurished but all and all her beauty still held. Morgana let a slow smile pull at her lips as she slowly held out her hand to him. "No.." She said softly almost weakly. "Come here.. I have missed you Arthur.." She continued.

Her bright green eyes gave nothing away to her inner thoughts. That she was indeed fine and that it had only taken her a day to figure out the mask she would need to wear in order to fool Uther and Arthur. Merlin was another story, she owed him alot for almost killing her. He would pay for that in the end but for now she would have to pretend nothing had happened. She was getting rather good at pretending, she had almost perfected it into an art. She was a wonderful actress and seemed to be able to pull off just about any kind of farce. But right now she didn't really have to be afraid, this was only Arthur standing in her room. The same person she had loved all of her life. She had seen the flash of pain in his eyes and she instantly felt the own pain inside of her. She didn't want him to feel guilt for what had happened over the year she had been gone. She would be light on the details of the story that had been formed to be told.

A tragic and terrible tale full of torture, fear, and lots of screams. Morgana closed her eyes and flinched a small whimper escaping her lips at the images that Morgause had placed in her head to help her remember everything. "I still see them.." She muttered in her weak and terrified voice as she opened her fearful eyes to land on Arthur once more as she tried to sit up weakly, trying to show some form of strength to him.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur felt a bit of relief when she confirmed that he was not disturbing her. Though it did not alleviate any of the guilt he felt. In fact, he just felt worse when she said that she had missed him. He was bad enough vocalizing his emotions. So especially now, He could not put just how much he missed her into words, expressing the full magnitude of the fearful emotions he had experienced every moment of every day she was gone. When she offered her hand, he took it, moving closer to wards her. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. A few years ago, people wondered if she would take the place next to him on the throne: if she would be the future Queen, by marrying the future King. He knew now that it would never be a husband - wife relationship they shared, but more of a brother - sister one. That in no way lessened his love for her. It just changed the context of it.

He gave her a faint smile, though it was far from jovial. When she admitted to still seeing them, Arthur's smile faded and he took a seat next to her on her bed. He was not going anywhere now. He would do a far better job of protecting her, as he failed constantly in the past. When she was kidnapped by the druids. When she was taken by Hengist's men. When she had nearly died from 'natural causes' due to a sorcerer's attempt of revenge on the king. There were so many instances when Arthur had not been there for her, and this past year would be the most tormenting. It would forever be burned in his memory, as every thing she suffered, would ultimately be a direct result of his inability to protect her. It was not his father's fault, regardless of the blame the king took on himself. It was Arthur's, and he would not hesitate in admitting this or be convinced otherwise.

But now was not the time to speak of such things. He knew she would just argue with him anyway. And he did not want to argue with her today . . . for once. Usually, he would welcome -- and even provoke -- their playful arguments. Their bickering over any small thing. Their constant teasings. And now, they could have that all back. She was back. She was home. Arthur could no longer resist the urge or control his relief. He pulled her into his arms, holding her in a hug. He just remained there for a few moments, closing his eyes, basking in this feeling as he had thought he would never see her again. After a year . . . there were very few who still held hope for her. He was one of them. He would never be able to accept that she was dead, and now, he did not have to.

He regrettably pulled away from the hug, looking at her with a soft expression. After a few more moments of silence followed, he finally spoke. "What happened?" His question was that of concern, and yet, it held a certain reluctance and fear in it. While he wanted to hear about it, it terrified him over having to hear first hand, what exactly she had endured. And he did not want to push her to talk about it. But she was an honest woman, and if she did not want to discuss it, he knew she would tell him flat out. Yes. Honest. And strong. He always knew of her strength, but having survived whatever she did, was the greatest demonstration of this woman's strength.