[It had been more than a decade since Morgana had noticed something different about the trees, the hedges around the overgrown mansion that Uther called a home. More than a decade since she had taken the hand of someone who called himself her kin and promised she would be safe now, with him. That she would be where she really belonged.
Time in Faerie moved strangely, without notice and somehow drawing on too long. Sometimes, she had been inconsolable until they let her peer through the veil and see Arthur building a castle out of blocks or awkwardly smiling at the first girl he noticed was actually a girl. He grew up, and she felt less need to peer over his shoulder.
In some ways, she wondered if she was growing up too. It didn't always feel like it, not with her being barely in her mid-twenties if she had still been in the moral realm, and especially not with her being surrounded by ageless beings who held so much power that you could physically feel it any time they set their attention upon you.
Yet for the most part, save the odd twinge of guilt, she was happy here. Happier than she had been since her father died. Her only responsibilities were to learn what she was taught and to not go prying into things that were beyond her ken.
Often she could be found on the edges of the realm, not testing her way out but looking with the curiosity only a part mortal could have at the mists, hedges, deep dark places in the forests where things got strange but stopping short of where they would get dangerous and anyone would think she was ungrateful enough to try and leave without so much as an attempt to first ask if she could go.
So it happened that one day when she was wandering around in the half-wilderness of the gardens that surrounded Winter she sensed something strange, and then saw someone strange, someone new and not accompanied by any of the fae and not, as far as she could sense, one himself. He was far enough away that she could slip behind a tree, the white of her dress helping to conceal her in the mist as she curiously peered him. He was in the lands of Autumn, technically, but only barely and surely intending to cross - but why? As kind as her people were to her, they weren't so kind to everyone. Was he with someone else? He seemed to have no obvious weapon, no horse either, no fae creatures to guard him.
Sticking to the trees, Morgana snuck closer. It was like her heart was dragging her feet along, sensing something she could not put to words or even fully form in her mind.
Morgana found herself at the very edge of winter, a step away from crossing the border.]
Who goes there? [She asks, her voice almost ghostly and as if it had come from the trees themselves and not the girl using them as her guard. The old man would be proud she had learned so well.]
no subject
Time in Faerie moved strangely, without notice and somehow drawing on too long. Sometimes, she had been inconsolable until they let her peer through the veil and see Arthur building a castle out of blocks or awkwardly smiling at the first girl he noticed was actually a girl. He grew up, and she felt less need to peer over his shoulder.
In some ways, she wondered if she was growing up too. It didn't always feel like it, not with her being barely in her mid-twenties if she had still been in the moral realm, and especially not with her being surrounded by ageless beings who held so much power that you could physically feel it any time they set their attention upon you.
Yet for the most part, save the odd twinge of guilt, she was happy here. Happier than she had been since her father died. Her only responsibilities were to learn what she was taught and to not go prying into things that were beyond her ken.
Often she could be found on the edges of the realm, not testing her way out but looking with the curiosity only a part mortal could have at the mists, hedges, deep dark places in the forests where things got strange but stopping short of where they would get dangerous and anyone would think she was ungrateful enough to try and leave without so much as an attempt to first ask if she could go.
So it happened that one day when she was wandering around in the half-wilderness of the gardens that surrounded Winter she sensed something strange, and then saw someone strange, someone new and not accompanied by any of the fae and not, as far as she could sense, one himself. He was far enough away that she could slip behind a tree, the white of her dress helping to conceal her in the mist as she curiously peered him. He was in the lands of Autumn, technically, but only barely and surely intending to cross - but why? As kind as her people were to her, they weren't so kind to everyone. Was he with someone else? He seemed to have no obvious weapon, no horse either, no fae creatures to guard him.
Sticking to the trees, Morgana snuck closer. It was like her heart was dragging her feet along, sensing something she could not put to words or even fully form in her mind.
Morgana found herself at the very edge of winter, a step away from crossing the border.]
Who goes there? [She asks, her voice almost ghostly and as if it had come from the trees themselves and not the girl using them as her guard. The old man would be proud she had learned so well.]