Morgana To The Rescue ... Again!

[ladymorgana]

The moment relived itself in Morgana's mind time and time again, almost at will. She could see, as clear as day, the two Knights circling each other in the arena, like caged animals poised for the kill, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. In a flash of sunlight on steel, Valiant had struck hard against Arthur, knocking the sword clean out of his hands. The roar of the crowds had shut off in an instant, and the plunged the whole arena into an expectant hush, as everyone waited for the final stroke of Valiant's sword to fall; and for the mysterious Knight to claim his victory over Camelot's most accomplished Knight, the Prince himself.

Then, it had happened. The emerald snakes that decorated Valiant's shield sprung to life like a travesty of a child's Jack-In-The-Box. The crowds recoiled, and the King was on his feet in a rage at such blatant use of magic in his presence. Morgana, too, had leapt to her feet in fear. As though enchanted, she could barely tear her gaze from the murder, that now seemed inevitable, to happen before her eyes.

Arthur was unarmed, and completely at the mercy of Valiant, and his magical vipers. In a flash, Morgana shook herself, gulped down hard at the acrid panic that swelled in her throat, and grabbed the sword from the belt of an on-looker, who seemed rooted to the spot in horror.

“Arthur!” Morgana's voice rang shrilly across arena as she threw the sword to Prince Arthur, who caught it with ease.

Morgana's nerves were as taught as bow strings as the next few moments unfolded. It all happened in a blur. The heads of the two shield snakes were off in a single stroke, and followed by the nerve shredding screech of steel on steel as Valiant's armour was pierced by Arthur's weapon. The day was won.

Now, several hours later, as she prepared to go to the celebratory feast at Prince Arthur's side, Morgana allowed herself an indulgent smile. She smoothed down the front of her gown, and turned to face the maid, who was assisting her.

“I saved his life!” Morgana informed her, proudly. “He'll hate it! But I saved his life!”

With that, Morgana turned to appraise her appearance in the looking glass. She adjusted the sleeves of her gown, and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ears. With a nod of approval, she turned and strode confidently from her Chamber.

The music was carried to her in muffled waves as she walked down the stone passageways towards the Great Hall of the Castle. All around her, heads turned towards her as she passed, and Morgana soaked up the attention with a well practised grace. She smiled and bowed her head to those she knew, as much as those she did not. Then, she passed through the ornate double doors of the Hall, and her gaze immediately alighted upon Prince Arthur as a round of rapturous applause broke out.

“My Champion,” She greeted the Prince, smiling beatifically as she held out her arm for him to take.

[Arthur Pendragon]

The final match in the tournament had alarmed many people -- himself included. He had practically fired Merlin for humiliating him, but at the same time, had such a strong feeling that he'd been right. Even knowing that Valiant would be using sorcery, he'd gone out to fight the man . . . and much to everyone's surprise, the snakes had indeed emerged from his shield. Unfortunately at the time, Arthur had been completely unarmed, knowing that one bite from the poisonous creatures would cause him his death. Thankfully, Morgana had been quick to act. She'd tossed him a sword just when he needed it most and it was because of her speedy gesture that he'd been able to properly defend himself. The snake had perished as did Valiant, and Arthur was claimed as victor of the entire tournament. That was the good news. Now the bad news . . . was that Morgana had saved his life. Normally, that isn't bad news at all. He owed her a great deal.

He grew to love her at the very least as a sister -- for they had practically grown up together, acting as siblings did . . . with hints of flirtation in there since they weren't actually related. He did care for her a great deal though, and the support and comfort she often gave him. But . . . it was the teasing and bickering that made them act more like siblings. And he feared, that tonight, she would never let him forget that she'd been the one to 'save' him. She did. Of course she did. He knew that had she not tossed him the sword then he may not have survived. However, silently acknowledging it and publicly admitting it were two very different things. He tended to go more with the former rather than the latter. Because . . . well, just because. Quite frankly, he was just glad that she was attending the ceremony with him, and not that other man, or any other man. He tended to be rather protective of her, not trusting the minds of men in her company. He knew she was a strong woman -- perhaps the strongest he knew -- in terms of personality and standing up for herself. Not to mention her skill with a sword.

But it was not her he didn't trust. It was other men. Others who would be in the presence of a beautiful woman -- as she was undeniably beautiful -- and it was those men that he wanted to keep away from her. He knew his father was the same. Protective over his ward, as Arthur was with his adoptive sister. So for that reason, he was relieved to be with her tonight. Able to have a legitimate excuse to be in her company tonight: because the prize had been to be her escort to the feast, and that was precisely what he was. And so, he was prepared for the feast, standing at one end of the hall, waiting for his name to be announced. When it was, the roar of applause filled the room and he began to walk forward, meeting her in the middle, and wrapping his arm around her. She looked as beautiful as ever. He gave a bit of a smile at her, glad to be the one who held this honor. "My lady," he said as he lowered his head in a bit of a nod, a bit of a bow, as he then began to walk alongside her down the aisle where everyone looked and clapped.

"I must say you look quite ravishing tonight," he complimented, knowing it was a well deserved comment of flattery. He was also trying to be charming . . . as he always strived to be with the lady folk. Why not start off the evening on a positive note with her. And letting her know that she looked exquisite was obviously a good start to the night that lay ahead. He looked at her for a few more moments before turning his gaze forward. He truly loved this. The attention of winning, of being champion. But most importantly, he could hold that joy of not having disappointed his father. The king had been expecting him to win, and with that came immense pressure. He was constantly fearing being a disappointment to his father and he was just so very glad that tonight . . . he would not have to worry about that. That tonight, his father could look at him with pride, for his son had claimed the title of victor. Tonight, he had two things that he positively enjoyed: girls -- or the girl -- and the glory of winning.

[ladymorgana]

Morgana acknowledged the Prince's deference with a graceful dip of a curtsey and, despite her inner chidings, her face flushed at Arthur's flattering words.

"My Lord," She beamed at him, her head tilted coyly. "I am honoured to be escorting you to the Champion's Feast, tonight."

She made a mental note to talk more about Arthur's victory, later. But for now, a frisson of excitement coursed through her as Arthur circled her waist with his arm, and he walked her down the centre aisle of the Grand Hall. All eyes were upon them. Even Uther beamed, glowing with pride, down at them both from seat upon the dais. Morgana caught her Guardian's eye, and returned his smile. The music swelled gracefully as they made their way through the thronging crowds, lifting her mood higher still. She had been to more of these functions than she could remember, but tonight was different. She felt like she had earned her place here, and it made her feel special. Like a proper Princess, and not just the third wheel of the Royal Family. Speaking of earning her place, that reminded her. She placed her hand on Arthur's elbow, so he would turn to face her for a moment, as they reached the heart of the party.

"Oh Arthur," She sighed. "I dread to think what could have happened, if I wasn't there to save you."

Morgana reached out with one hand and swept a glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant. She held the fluted glass delicately to her lips, but drank deeply as though calming her nerves at the thought of Arthur's imagined gruesome death. Of course, she was teasing him. She wanted to milk the moment for all it was worth! From the safety of the Grand Hall, with that dreadful event firmly behind, she felt that she had earned her teasing rights. But, at the time... Well, she wasn't about to let Arthur know that.Before he could recover his wits, and reply with some witty retort, Morgana pressed on.

"Everyone saw those snakes, and your sword lying in the dust, and panic broke out!" She exclaimed, all wide eyed in mock terror, and took another sip of wine to "calm" herself. "But then, as it looked as if you were doomed, I had this flash of inspiration. I reached over to the guard on my left, pulled the sword straight out of his scabbard, and threw it over, and saved the day!"

For a moment, Morgana had the burning desire to carry out a full re-enactment of the episode, just for him. Too much, too soon, she thought to herself. Let the moment build, first. For now, she was content to step back and see how grateful Arthur would be to her saviour.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He smiled with pride when she said that she was honored to be escorting him to tonight's feast. The feast in his honor. My how he loved the attention such events had for him. And now, he was even more enjoying the attentions Morgana was giving him. "The honor is all mine," he replied. It was so much easier to return the compliment, when a person gave it first. Instead of the bickering they often resorted to, now it was a time of soft and kinds words. "I hope you are not too disappointed that Sir Valiant is not the victor," he said with slight teasing. He remembered seeing him the first time . . . seeing the way he had greeted Morgana. He had not liked him from that moment on wards. How he kissed her hand with that look in his eyes. Granted, Morgana's beauty often left a man speechless, but there was just something about Valiant he had not liked. Oh and of course not to forget the fact that he had broken the law by both using sorcery and murdering a man. When he felt her hand on his elbow, he turned to properly face her, now that they had walked through the short path of glory.

Her words made his smile less charming and become more . . . well, one of slight irritation. And thus, it begins. He kept a smile in place, but with her words of saying how she 'saved' him . . . alright, so technically she did. But Arthur's arrogance -- and the fun he received in taunting her mercilessly -- did not allow him to so easily accept her words. And it did not stop there. She went on to give details of the event . . . her quick thinking had indeed saved his life but for previously established reasons, he would not admit it so readily. When the tray holding wine passed by, Arthur was all too relieved. He took a goblet and immediately took a sip of it, knowing he would need wine to get through this evening. Or perhaps just some of her comments. True they were. Admitting this he would not. He waited for her to finish talking, having taken another sip of the delicious red liquid before he prepared himself for a reply. She had certainly retold the tale with quite the enthusiasm. It held the dramatics, the expressions . . . she would make a good story teller indeed.

"Oh Morgana," he began, in that same tone she had used with him. He just loved teasing her . . . there was so much fun in it. But there was also the issue of his massive pride and ego, that would not let her be so boastful in saving him. Because . . . well, he tended to brag about things far more. "I wouldn't exactly say that you saved me," he began to reply, with that familiar air of arrogance in his voice. "I'm sure I would have thought of something to save myself." At the moment, he hadn't been able to think of a damn thing. He'd been stuck; doomed as she said. But now why would he acknowledge that? He wouldn't. Not right now anyway. "I think the word doomed is a bit of an exaggeration. I was merely without a weapon for a brief moment. But as I said, I would have thought of something. Your assistance just allowed me to defeat Valiant quicker." And now he was downplaying her aid. Referring to it as a convenient means of assistance. He couldn't help but give a smug grin at her and take another sip of the wonderful wine, rather enjoying the moment.

[ladymorgana]

Morgana bristled at the mention of Valiant. "Turns out he wasn't champion material, after all," She snorted derisively. The truth was, she was rather taken with him. A tall, dark, and not to mention strong, and charming, Knight from a distant land. As much as Morgana liked to keep her feet on the ground, her head had been firmly in the clouds since he first used his Courtly charms on her. Worse still, Morgana feared that Arthur had seen right through her. But, Morgana recovered herself before the teasing could really begin. She put down her glass on a nearby table to free up her hands, and placed them comfortingly on Arthur's shoulders.

"But, Arthur, I saw your panic-stricken little face, when you dropped your sword, and saw those snakes," She explained. "Honestly, it looked like this..."

She didn't care who was looking, Arthur had asked for it with his merciless teasing. She pulled a face of grotesque, mock terror, her eyes wide and mouth twisted in a manor of a silent scream. Arthur, of course, hadn't looked anything like it, and she well knew. But nonetheless, it was worth it just to ratchet up the Prince's indignation.

"Honestly, how could I stand back and do nothing when you so clearly panicked," She sympathised. "Honestly, Arthur, it's all right to admit that you were saved bya girl."

She picked up her glass again, took a delicate little sip, and awaited his, undoubtedly witty, reply.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"Turns out he wasn't champion material, after all." Excellent. Now that was what Arthur liked to hear. He had remained reigning champion. And had not let a creep -- as Merlin had accurately described him -- like Valiant claim the title of victor, and have the honor that was bestowed on him, to escort Morgana. However, when she began to mock the expression that had been on his face, even recreate it, Arthur gave her a subtle glare. Entirely in disbelief that that was how he looked! "I did not have a panic stricken face," he argued. In complete objection to such an . . . accusation. Yes. He took it as an accusation. "And I certainly didn't look like that," he added stubbornly as he took another sip of his wine. "That is the face you make when you have misplaced your hairbrush." If they were going to resort to mocking and teasing, then he was only going to encourage it. But ensure that his voice was not loud enough for others to hear.

While most knew of their 'sibling rivalry', or some took it as signs that they cared for each other in more ways than a brother and sister did . . . it would be far too rude to lash out at each other during a feast. Well, loud enough for others to hear. "Really Morgana, you didn't seem to be paying any attention at at." He was not quite finished. He was only getting started. "In actuality, I was not saved by a girl. I just accepted your gesture because I didn't want to embarrass you," he stated nonchalantly. Right. He was being, 'chivalrous'. Accepting her offer of a sword so that it wouldn't look so unneeded. He truly knew that she saved him . . . but with the way she was gloating about it, he would not give her that satisfaction. Perhaps later, when they were having a more serious moment he would thank her. But certainly not right now. He was enjoying the arguing a bit too much. As well as unappreciative of the way she told him that she rescued him. As if he were the damsel in distress. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!

[ladymorgana]

The laughter that had been building up inside Morgana since she first walked through the door, erupted suddenly as Arthur looked at her aghast at her accusations. But, that soon gave way to a gasp of utter indignation at the hair brush taunts. "I do not!" She hissed low, glaring daggers at the Prince. She was raising to the bait, and she knew it. Playing into his hands, giving him the reaction he yearned for, and was powerless to stop herself. He just ... pushed all the right buttons to make her hopping mad, sometimes.

"Accepted my gesture!" She repeated. Her eyes were like saucers, now, only the feelings were real. "What other option did you have then?"

She waited, grinning, for the answer she knew would not come. However, the answer didn't come only because she ploughed on before Arthur could even open his mouth to reply.

"I'll tell you what other option you had, oh gracious Prince! That was to have your smug, pretty little head bitten off by a poisonous viper!" She stamped her silk slippered foot hard into the scented rushes that were strewn across the flagstones and turned her face away in a huff as she finished. "So, go on then. Enlighten me. What would you have done if I hadn't stepped in at just the right time and saved your Royal derriere?"

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur's annoyance would have increased had she not abruptly stopped laughing. He really had done it now. The way she was looking at him, the way she was speaking, the way her entire demeanor had altered . . . and all Arthur could do was give a bit of a smug grin, taking another sip of his drink. Unfortunately, she asked a very valid question. One that he wasn't sure he even had an answer to. What would he have done had she not given him his sword. How would he have fought off the snakes? He couldn't use his hands to fight them off, for one bite and it would all be over. Damn it. Just when he had thought he'd gained the upper hand in their argument, she in fact had one upped him with her own question. Such was the way of his debates he supposed. They would keep arguing back and forth until one of them walked away. Unfortunately, Arthur had far too much pride to admit defeat. He would not give her the satisfaction that he truly would have been at a loss of what to do, had she not handed him a sword.

While he tried to get his mind to work quickly, he continued to use the excuse of the rim of his goblet near his lips, drinking from it, though he was still trying to process an answer to her question. He couldn't look like a fool and tell her that there was no alternative! He would have to fabricate something. Make it seem like he didn't need her. When in reality, he had and he still did. Not just as a woman who tossed him a sword every now and then, but as something more; something dearer to his heart. A sister that he never had at birth. He finally lowered the cup from his lips, knowing that he had stalled long enough. "Perhaps I should have just stomped on the viper like you did now. That would have killed him instantly." Yes. He resorted to more mocking. And why not? Sometimes, it was far easier to taunt than to think of a logical explanation. But still, he had to keep going.

"Morgana, you are talking to the reigning champion of the tournament. The undefeated warrior of the realm." Now, rather than just taunting, he went to exaggerated arrogance. Cockiness and egotistical remarks. For the sole purpose of irritating her, and could only hope it succeeded. "It would take more than a mere snake to bring me down." As if his words did not hold obvious conceitedness, his tone and expression certainly did. Truth be told, Arthur held far more insecurities than he would ever let on and admit. Most stemmed from his constant need of approval from his father. But to be a prince, he had to held a certain level of confidence. And well, he enjoyed promoting it to all those he could. Whether it was to impress the ladies, or to annoy them . . . though there was only one woman he often wished to agitate for the sheer fun, and that was the one standing right in front of him.

[ladymorgana]

Morgana couldn't help a smug, sidelong, glance at Prince Arthur, who struggled to answer her question. She could almost hear the whirring of the cogs in his mind as he fought his way out of the corner she had backed him into. Soon, she was once again biting down on the laughter that was bubbling beneath her icy, affronted, surface. She let the silence spiral, watching through the corner of her eye as he pretended to be drinking his wine. Casually, in one firm movement, she elegantly tipped the remainder of her own drink down her throat, and selected another from a blushing servant.

"I'm waiting," She cooed at Arthur, still not turning to face him properly. Now, she couldn't help the smirk from brightening up her face.

As he answered, Morgana recognised his old tactic of falling back on his puffed up pride, and well polished arrogance to get him out of it. However, she couldn't help but notice that he did not answer the question. However, Morgana knew not to push him too far, and she was growing tired of this little game, now. She stifled a feigned little, cat-like yawn as he concluded his verbal bluster.

"Arthur," She stated his name firmly as she finally turned her face to his again. "You know I love you to pieces, you are like an extremely irritating little brother to me. But, really, for such a great warrior, you should know, by now, when you are defeated."

She flashed him a grin and a wink, before planting a kiss on his flushed cheek. "Do enjoy the rest of this lovely evening."

[Arthur Pendragon]

When she began to say his name, he thought he'd managed to alter the subject and thus, cause her to forgo the topic of her having saved his life. But instead, she said the words that irritated him to no end. Not the first bit. Not whens he said that she loved him, and that he was as a brother to her. He often found it difficult to vocalize his emotions. Loving her as a sister, and saying it were two very different things. He felt that attachment to her in his heart, but to bring these emotions into words was not easy. His father had always taught him that emotions were a strong weakness. Hence the reason he had been raised to suppress them. But his actions often spoke louder than words. Not right now however. Right now, he was frustrated -- aware that was her intention -- by her comment of knowing when he was defeated. He was not defeated! He was . . . damn it.

He refused to accept defeat. Especially by her. Wait, and now she was walking away?! After a soft kiss on his cheek, she was just going to leave him at this celebratory feast? Not if he had something to say about it. "Now is that really the way you treat the victor?" He asked, not letting her get too far, for he did not wish to raise his voice too high. He took a step towards her, a playful smirk on his face. "I did after all win the honor of escorting you to the feast." The word honor at this point was laced with sarcasm. In contrast to how he used the term when they had first entered together, which was with more sincerity. "You certainly would not deprive the champion of having his fair reward." Oh how he loved to use the word champion. If only to remind her that he had won the tournament. Not that anyone needed a reminder really. He would certainly gloat as much as he could about it . . . especially with her. But for now, he sipped more of his drink, waiting to see her reaction. Would she walk away or find some obligation to remain with him a bit longer?

[ladymorgana]

"Now is that really the way you treat the victor?"

Prince Arthur's words seemed to follow Morgana as she strode away. She froze, mid step, and smiled the widest smile of the night thus far. She turned slowly on her heels so that she was facing him again.

"How remiss of me," She agreed as she returned to his side. "I can't have you walking away from this debacle with nothing, now, can I?"

Back in full playful, teasing, mode, Morgana laced her arm through Arthur's and began walking him around the room. Dodging their fellow revellers as they circulated, she continued her ribbing uninterrupted.

"First, I save you from the snakes, and now I save you from being all Billy-no-friends at our victory feast," She grinned, referring to "our" victory feast deliberately. "And let's face it, Arthur, this feast is as much as in my honour as it is yours, seeing how I am responsible to for your victory. I threw you the sword, and you killed the snakes. You have to ask yourself who the real champion is?"

Morgana really felt that they had worked as a team. Like two sides of the same coin. But, just for the sake of teasing her "brother", she wanted to maintain her act of defiance. She was enjoying the banter too much. Deep down inside, however, she was aware of Arthur's ongoing fight to live up to Uther's impossible, ever multiplying, expectations. Not for all the gold in the world, would she want to swap places with the Prince. Thinking about it, though, made her relent. Soon, she would let Arthur feel like he won, fair and square, and on his own.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He wasn't quite sure if his attempt to draw her back to him would work. But it had. Yet, there was something far too playful with her words that caused him to worry. Perhaps, he should have let her go. Then again, his words did hold some truth. And that was that he was to escort her during this feast. May as well continue with what others expected of them. Whens he put her arm through his and they began walking through the room, he looked at her with slight skepticism. She was being far too nice . . . too, jovial about what he had said to her. It didn't take long for his curiosity to be satisfied. For soon enough, she spoke once again about having saved them. Then, furthermore, she added on that eh had no friends! "Oh please Morgana," he said, not about to let her go on this one. "Any woman in this room would love to have me on their arm. You should be grateful to hold such a privilege." When all else failed, lead the conversation back to his cockiness.

Of course, like any young man he much enjoyed the attention received from the fairer sex. He loved time spent with them, engaging in flirtations, even perhaps a kiss every now and then. He knew that eventually, he would have to marry for the good of the kingdom so for now, was merely enjoying what lustful days of youth he could get. Of course with Morgana, it was never like that. Truth be told, he'd rather be in her company than anyone else's. But such an admittance would be far too kind. He was going along with inflating his own ego, rather than speaking sentimental words. But once again, she gained the upper hand. She always seemed to know exactly what to say to push his buttons, but knew him well enough to never push far. In fact, out of everyone, she probably knew him the best. "Our victory?" He repeated, suppressing a scoff at the suggestion of this joint term.

"I believe I am the one who bested all the other contestants of the competition. I know that the art of combat is something lost to you, so I will not go into detail about the complexities of it. I will let you stick with what you know most about: gossip." His voice was not harsh, but very teasing of her, even smiling innocently at his retort. He knew that she was skilled with a sword. Extremely skilled. Probably the most skilled out of all the women in Albion. But . . . again, he could not give her credit where it was due. That would once again, defeat the purpose of this. "But just know that it was not easy. So handing the sword to me in one match, does not deem you victor." He was not serious. He knew full well that this was her victory as much as his. That she saved him; that without her, he would be snake fodder. He owed her a great deal, and would truly have to express such gratitude later. But not right now; he was having too much fun. It was her that kept these feasts interesting and fun for him.

[ladymorgana]

Morgana had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that there was more than a grain of truth in Arthur's words. He had bested the other champions, and had proved himself to be a fiersome warrior, just like his own father, Uther. But, and what truly made Arthur unique in her eyes, Arthur had achieved his true warrior status, without developing a heart of stone. He had a strong sense of what was right, and wrong, without being inflexible, like Uther. He saw the grey areas in life, and had a heart of gold. It was what enabled him to take a ribbing like this one on the chin. If anything, Morgana saw it as her duty to ensure that Arthur never lost that. So, she wasn't really teasing him, just helping him to keep his feet on the ground.

"The art of combat!" Morgana guffawed as they made another circuit of the Hall. At first sight, the pair of them must have looked like any other young couple of friends, if not brother and sister. However, if half of them heard the way that Morgana teased Arthur, they'd be horrified. The thought of it thrilled her. "Don't tell me about the art of combat, Arthur," She continued. "All you're doing is waving a sword around and hoping you stick your blade into someone, before they get the chance to do the same to you. It's so easy, you don't even have to think about it ... which is just as well, for you!"

It was anything but "easy", of course, but Morgana wasn't about to let on that she felt that way. She had watched from her windows, as Arthur practised in the tilt yards of the Castle, as he slogged it out against men who were both twice his age, size, and experience. He pushed himself mercilessly to be the very best. Morning, noon, and night, he seemed to practise. Poor Merlin out there helping him, too.

"And admit it, Arthur," She smiled coyly at him. "I have many fine, feminine talents that require years of practise to hone. We ladies need more than brawn, and muscle to make our way in the world. Alas, I am afraid these subtle feminine arts would be well beyond the mental grasp of any man. Especially you!"

[Arthur Pendragon]

He looked at her when she downplayed the skill he possessed with a sword. Or, the effort that it took to be skilled in the art of combat. He knew she was just teasing. Hell, this entire conversation was composed of teasing and ridicule against one another. But that was all part of the fun. Which was why he had to react to her words. Remaining composed but she knew him well enough to know when she has struck a nerve. Just as she did now. Not only that but she had managed to criticize his intelligence! My my wasn't she just fill of wit tonight. Then again, that was never really a rarity. It often turned into a battle of wits between them. Until one of them was forced to walk away. Right now, he was going to avoid that from happening for as long as possible. Refusing to let her get in the last word. Which was why he had stopped her from walking away before.

"Easy?" He asked rhetorically. "If you weren't afraid of ruining your perfect hair and wrinkling your dress, then I would offer to show you just how easy it is." Battle of the sexes it seemed. It was rather uncommon for a woman to know how to fight with any sort of weapon. Which made Morgana more of a rarity. And he was quite proud of her for being able to hold her own. Though, he would do everything within his power to protect her; to make sure that she would never be put in a position where she had to worry about that. He took another sip of wine to help 'calm' him though he was still entirely aware of the jest in this entire conversation. He rolled his eyes when she spoke of her many talents. "Well enlighten me then Morgana," he began sarcastically. "What possible talents do you possess other than have a remarkable talent for gossiping?"

That was all women did was it not? Gossip, brushed their hair, giggled. While he knew Morgana was not like that, many noblewomen were. Thank god she was different. Otherwise he doubted he would be able to bare her company for too long. Then again, the giggly ones tended to be easier to woo and charm. But there was a reason he did not pursue relationships with them. Because he couldn't be in their company for an extended amount of time. Apart from the fact that he lacked the time. "Perhaps I should give you more credit. Not only gossiping, but also having a talent for shopping at the market for hours on end." On with the sarcasm and mocking. "Yes. I can see what incredible feminine talents you have that are so beyond my mental capacity of understanding." Oh how this was too much fun.

[ladymorgana]

"Oh ho! Arthur, so that's what you think I do all day, is it?" Morgana asked, her tone heavy with sarcasm. True, she did rather enjoy her trips to the markets with Gwen. She also rather enjoyed her grooming, but it's not like she spent all day, every day, doing it. "Well, let's see. Us ladies can't let you boys spend all day looking at other hairy blokes, all the time. We must make ourselves presentable, and show the beauty in life." She was aware of awfully feminine she sounded, but, she was willing to grasp at straws to prove a point from time to time. Especially when it was Arthur, her favourite sparring partner.

"Anyway, us Ladies are versed in poetry, literature, and needlework," She listed them off on her fingers. "We even make your ugly chainmail. Face it, you'd be lost without us. We may not fully appreciate the art of killing people, but we fully appreciate the finer things in life, in general. And, no," She stated firmly. "We don't sit around an gossip all day!"

Morgana was affronted at the mere suggestion that all she did was gossip, and she wasn't afraid of messing up her hair, or wrinkling her dress earlier, when she saved Arthur's life, and she wasted no time in telling him. And then telling him again, with a smug, all knowing, grin on her face.

"So," She stated adriotly as she came to halt by the drinks table. "While you and your friends are off practising beating each other up, us ladies are being cultivated, and learned, and sophisticated!"

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur didn't interrupt her when she went on about all of a woman's talents -- or her talents. About how they had to look presentable and such. About how they 'appreciated the finger things in life'. Dear god. She was going to make him burst out in laughter. He was holding it in, trying to take her seriously when she spoke of such things. But by the time she reached the point of women being cultivated, learned and sophisticated . . . Arthur could not hold it in any longer; he laughed. He laughed as if she had told him the most hilarious joke he had ever heard. It was a good thing he did not have wine in his mouth at the time. He most certainly would have choked on it. But thankfully, he was free to express the humor he felt upon hearing her words. "Clearly, another addition to your talents is telling the most amusing jokes." Because, everything she just said was far too hysterical for him not to acknowledge.

"Well cultivated. Lost without you." He repeated the specific words that had caused him to engage in a small fit of laughter. He shook his head a bit, taking another sip of his wine to help calm his expression of amusement, during so composing himself so that he could counter his words. "It is you women who would be lost without us men. Half the time we are fighting to protect you. Whilst you sit and chatter frivolously." Aka, gossip. He was not going to let that go. He knew what it was to be in a group of women . . . they just gossiped. He of course knew Morgana was different. As he previously -- silently -- recognized, she was a rarity. One that he intended to keep well protected. He knew how much strength a woman could give a man; how much strength she gave him. Often giving him that support and advice he needed. It was moments of this however, that he failed to bring them up. They however, always remained in his memory, appreciated in his very heart.

"Women merely serve as a distraction. And sometimes even a nuisance." He didn't believe that. He loved women! He enjoyed charming them and spending time in their company. Showing off for them, flattering them . . . what man didn't enjoy such things? But as they seemed to have gotten on the subject of gender differences, he was going to emphasize the weaknesses of women, while Morgana focused on their strengths. He didn't doubt them. But it was just so fun to get under his adoptive sister's skin. "While you sit with your sewing, we do real work. A women's work is only to get dressed up. Even then, it is a woman's objective to dress up and look presentable, not for the sake to capture the attention of a man?" He asked smiling, another rhetorical question. "Just as tonight, for you knew I would be your escort," he added, suggesting that she had dressed up all for him. And only for him.

[ladymorgana]

"We do not gossip!" Morgana hissed back. "We women are the skillful practicioners of the art of conversation. We don't just lumber around, limbs flailing, while grunting at one another, like you gentlemen!"

Arthur was really starting to get under her skin, now. But, now that she had snapped at him, she felt the hold of his jibes lessen on her temper. She could see the men clearly, in her minds eye, lunging at one another with blades, and howling, like animals. It made her laugh just as hard back at Arthur. They came to women to learn how to be civilised human beings. Well, some of them did, at least. Morgana knew full well that Arthur wasn't really like the others she saw lurking about the tiltyard, and flexing their biceps.

"We can articulate our emotions and feelings, without having to resort to violence," She renumerated the virtues of womanhood, once again. "We have more than one facial expression, and don't feel the need to knock seven bells out of each other, just to prove a point. Face it, Arthur, if women ruled the world, there would be no wars. Because women talk about their problems, and negotiate; instead reaching for the nearest battle axe!"

It would take more than his school boy sniggerings to knock Morgana off course, and she would not let him get the last word in. She was like a bull, charging towards the red flag. A dog with a juicy bone. It was just too delicious to let up, now. She snapped around on her heels to face him again.

"What say you?" She demanded.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur loved her defensive reaction. It continued to fill him with amusement and humor seeing how she retorted that women do not solely gossip. Several did, though he knew what it was to have a conversation with Morgana . . . and she was far better than most women when it came to gossiping and talking about something worthwhile. If that was all she did, engage in mindless chatter, then he would not wish to be in her company . . . ever. But it was quite the contrary. Now of course, there was no need to praise her for that. Tonight was not about praising it, it was about agitating her. "And when you say skill practitioners of the art of conversation, you truly mean, that all you ladies talk about is which men you fancy." He said this with that infamous tone of arrogance he used when teasing and mocking her. "I can hardly blame you ladies. Us men are certainly worth talking about and praising. Especially the one you are currently in the company of." Himself . . . obviously.

At her next words, he knew that there was truth to them. That women could vocalize their emotions, when with men . . . it was seen as a weakness. Him and the knights did not gather together and engage in deep conversations about how they felt and what was in their heart. Least of all Arthur, for it was not something he had been brought up to do. And now, found extreme difficulty in vocalizing how he felt. Knowing what to say to someone he cares about. He scoffed out a laugh when Morgana spoke of women ruling the world. "If that was the case, then the world would hardly progress. All you women would do was make yourselves bankrupt with shopping, and argue endlessly with each other." He cringed at the thought of a group of women sitting around the table, 'negotiating'. He knew that some women were rather well versed in politics, and did not actually believe that one gender was superior to the other . . . but it was fun to tease. "At least we know how to get things done. Whether it be with violence or not. Sometimes it is the only means to solve something."

Though, Arthur preferred peace as oppose to war. At the same time, he knew that every kingdom engaged in war at some point or another. He had fought many battles, and did not doubt he would fight many more in the future. Whether it be with Mercia, or Escetia, as those two were the main kingdoms they held strong tensions with. He just looked at her, with a strong smirk on his face, though her words were truly irritating him . . . as had been the purpose of her verbal retorts no doubt. "Women are catty Morgana. Instead of negotiating, they would sit there and the moment someone criticizes another woman's dress, they would declare war on them." He was just exaggerating of course, but the mere thought of his words caused him to chuckle at the mental image it placed in his mind. Quite hilarious, if he did say so himself! Though he doubted Morgana would find the humor in it. Just as he lacked recognizing the humor in her words against men.