Royal Leverage (Morgana) Feb 23, 2011 7:40:29 GMT -5
Post by Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha on Feb 23, 2011 7:40:29 GMT -5
There was this nagging feeling in Yassia’s guts that something was afoot. Something highly unpleasant. Ever since Lady – Queen Morgana had taken up the crown of Camelot such unpleasant things occurred on a daily basis. Yassia didn’t belong in Camelot, it shouldn’t be her concern. But since Sir Leon was her uncle, everything about him WAS her concern! He had only just escaped death, had caused the wild chase after the Cup of Life by his loyal honesty, and now: where was he? Of course no one would tell her anything, not where he was now that the foreign soldiers had taken over the citadel, nor how he fared, if he even was still alive. The lot of a mere woman, she presumed. And then again, another woman had caused all this, where was the justice in that?!
And now she had been summoned before the new queen, two grim guards with the crest of the new regime on their gambesons accompanying her. The tree… not the red dragon anymore. It was not right. She felt more like a prisoner than a guest all of a sudden. All this reminded her too strongly about the time after her father’s sudden death. When Guifré had acted like the crown was all for him, or his son. Outwardly, he had been showing kindness towards his grieving niece, but she had seen it in his eyes, he wanted her either gone or safely married off to Gonçal. Would Ailantha, now that she had been gone for almost a year, bear his coat of arms instead of the old king’s? Why had this all found a way of sneaking up on her again? It was a horrid distorted picture of her own life: Now a woman SAT on the throne, but it didn’t look like this would benefit Camelot in any way…
What did Morgana want with her? They had reached the throne room now, a familiar place for Yassia, where she had watched King Uther reside, framed by Arthur and Morgana many times. Now Morgana was sitting on the main throne, looking down at her nose at the approaching figure, her face a mask of regal arrogance. What had happened to the kind face Yassia had come to know? Now the contrast of the black lined eyes, her pale skin and the lurid red mouth made her look more like a puppet then a human being. One of the guards ushered her to kneel, and Yassia obliged after an irked glare. She didn’t like this. A few days ago, the two of them had been all but equals, Yassia maybe even a bit above her! Yassia was the daughter of a king, Morgana was only a ward… or not. The revellation that had shaken the court to the bone was still to new to grasp: Morgana was Uther’s daughter.
But for now, with being crowned queen, however injustly in Yassia’s eyes, Morgana had the upper hand and she had to play along. So she waited, inwardly fuming, for the new queen to speak.