Morgana - A Tale of Beauty And The Beast

Chapter Two

Chapter 02

SHE returned to her home and found her sisters bickering and yelping like pups at the table where her father sat with his head in his hands. Seeing this, she immediately drew him a cup of water and brought it to him, dodging her sisters as they began running around the table in a circle. The elder chasing the younger over a ribbon. Her father's patience was running thin. His face was reddening. The nerves on his neck were standing out.

She no more than set the cup down in front of him before his hands, balled into fists slammed on the table, he stood up, flinging the chair he was sitting in to the floor, as he roared, "QUIET!!!".

The girls stopped in their tracks, one holding the ribbon over her head, the other left in the act of pulling her hair. Morgana stood her ground and merely clasped her hands together and looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

"Now if you two are done acting like two little, foolish, baby imps I have news for you. Potentially good news if you will give me time and ROOM to speak," he continued, exasperated. As if on cue they both let go of their unlady-like positions and plopped down in to the chairs in front of him. Morgana remained standing crossing her arms. She couldn't help feeling a little stung that none asked her about her vision. About her own place in the realm of Fae and Tamers. Her status – thanks to her mother and father's position was now simply a Tamer. But how could a mere Tamer achieve the things she was shown? Only a complete Fae – a full ranked and trained Helper could do what she seemed destined to do. She was perplexed, and needed to talk about it. But yet, she had to remain silent. Perhaps this was how it would come to pass. How she would be able to go to the court of Oberon and Titiana to train... "The Wise One has stated that there are ships coming in. Ships that he plans to hand over to me and help guide to the borders of the Odin lands. If this is so, we will have a major status again. We will be able to buy clothes, flowers, crops. New means to keep the imps and gremlins in their dark places of the soil and fire."

Indeed perhaps it is a way we can be restored. Suddenly, she felt her heart pained for her mother. She never blamed her mother for what had happened. It was common knowledge that Titiana had become vain and easily ill tempered. Perhaps, what they said happened was not true. Why would my mother pay more attention to her beautiful hair than to her son? My father never mentioned a son. So, how could it be?

Things had never been clear as to why her mother was banished. After all, Morgana was born before her mother was banished. Not long before. But the official story was that her mother had been brushing her long golden hair in the mirror and while she was doing so, her son – a boy Morgana was never told existed was attacked by goblins (one of the few beings who could destroy Fae) and killed beside the very lake she had seen her vision in. However, there were other rumors. That Titiana had grown jealous of her mother because of her beauty. Still the last rumor was more disturbing than the rest. Her mother had shown herself to a mortal man. He raped her and left her there thinking her a mere peasant girl. When the mists finally hid her again, the man came looking for her again... believing she lived in the area. To protect her Titiana made her a gorgon, much like Medusa in Greece. Only she did not make her ugly and repulsive – but instead much feared, and of course, she could not die... Her wail would forever announce the death of the most loved and important men among the humans. Perhaps all the rumors were true. No one but Titiana and her mother knew for sure. But whatever the cause – it forced Oberon into action as well. Morgana, for her part, could never, and much to her grief, would never see her mother again. However, she knew if her mother were there, she would ask of her vision. She would have sat down to explain it to her. Perhaps this emptiness was how she would learn to deal with her position. Perhaps it was part of what was to come.

She turned her attention to her father, he was speaking rapidly. Full of frantic hope. Full of radiance. She couldn't help but smile at how animated he was. He was a loving man, and would do anything to see all of them as happy as they could be.

"If this works out, what do you want me to bring back to you from the cities?" he asked his daughters glancing around the table.

"Ribbons, laces and bonnets," said one, Freya with a smirk on her face. She had the gift of weaving her own clothes from the leaves of the trees. She only needed embellishments – and her tastes were always expensive.

"Scents and shoes, jewels and butterflies from all over. There is a merchant that does that!" cried the other, Daphne. Her specialty was in crafting different flowers and keeping them from overtaking the trees and the humans grounds.

Her father turned to her and waited. Morgana thought hard and long, but she only kept coming back to one single vision – the flower.

"What would you ask of me my lovely one?" her father put his hands on her shoulders and smiled.

"A single flower if you cannot find me the whole shrub."

"What kind of flower is it?" he asked, tilting his head perplexed. After all, she needed to be more clear.

"I do not know, but it has many petals, a single golden center, and thorns with dark leaves upon the stems."

Her father's brow creased in thought.

"Do you mean roses, you silly fool? I could make you roses if that is all you want!" her sister cried out in disbelief.

"Perhaps I do mean roses. What do they look like?", she asked her sister stepping forward.

Her sister gave her a look of "you gotta be kidding" and "dear heavens above, you're an idiot" mixed in to one. She took a nearby piece of leaf and rubbed it between her hands.

"Like this." Cradled in her hand a second later was a copy of the flower she had seen, only a different color.

"Then can you make it red with a slight blush of white?" Morgana asked almost ready to dance in glee.

Her sister seemed taken back by the idea, then a look of disgust appeared on her face. "What a hideous sounding idea. But no, I cannot. I can only make them one color. As you can see, silly. Whoever heard of a two colored rose anyway? Gah!" Then she stood and pranced out as if she had just been delivered the worst insult in her life.

"A rose it is then." Her father said softly, the smile still on his face as he sat back down.