[2] WEEPING MONK║you're not what I was looking for

46| Whispers In The Night - 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Lancelot takes on his new role and an uninvited guest stirs tension within the camp. Ari is forced to reveal a secret that could jeopardise her love and her crown.

"Morgana? Morgana you cannot just appear like this," Arthur hissed to the stranger.

"The Hidden told me who was here, I had to come and see for myself," the stranger retorted.

"What is this?" Ari demanded as she strode to them, a small crowd beginning to form around the group now that their queen was here. They have ears and their ears always want to listen to when the Sunborn speaks.

The woman she faced was clad in pristine black corset, coat and skirts, a laced veil covering her pitch ringlet hair. Her expression was somewhere between sour and kind and softened as the queen's feet stopped, her loyal guard braced as a silent threat behind her shoulder.

"Your Grace," the stranger bowed her head lightly, "I have hoped to meet you for some time."

Ari didn't bat an eyelid at the flattery, examining the stranger. There was a resemblance that was not just her skin and hair and thin yet strong frame to another within the group, but her eyes. They shared a rich darkness to the sell-sword amongst them.

Her pleasantries continued with a well spoken tongue, "I apologise that I have not come sooner."

She spoke as if there had been an invitation for her presence, and by the Queens's accounts there had not. Ari glanced rightward across to Arthur, who, if tensed his jaw any tighter, looked like he was more than just frustrated. She set her eyes back on the unknown intruder, face stern as you may expect, "And who are you, exactly?" Who was the first of her questions, how she got here was the second.

Lancelot felt the shift in Ari's demeanour, the well trained change into the queen. He was stood right behind her but even if he was not he would still feel her presence. Everyone here was a piece in her game and she commanded the moves. If he did not know, then he would not believe her to have seen only a young twenty-something summers.

"My apologies again, I am the Widow - Morgana." She corrected herself, an expression which was somewhat apprehensive for a brief moment flashing across her face.

That explained little to Ari and even less to Lancelot whose glare right then was sharper than the sword clasped beneath his palms. He had no intention of standing down for he knew what lies she was telling. Despite whatever this was that she was dressed in he knew her face. But more importantly, that she did not belong to the Fey.

"Morgana is my sister," Arthur announced quickly for the benefit of those who did not know, "she was a friend to Nimue."

Those details made up Lancelot's mind for him, an ally to the Red Paladins and a traitor. He stepped around Ari, his cloak brushing against her and rooted himself as her shield.