Prompt 117.10 (for writers_muses)
Morgan le Fay
The Guenevere Trilogy
951 words
It was a small party that attended Igraine, High Queen of Britain, as she brought forth a third child into the world. Two gentlewomen tended to her while her oldest daughter, a girl of fourteen, sat beside her, gripping her hands. One of the gentlewomen was near her head, applying spices and cool water and giving the queen a drink when she needed it. The other woman was at the foot of the bed, watching the child between the queen's legs, another of Igraine's daughter, a girl called Morgan.
She had insisted on helping her mother with the birth, and neither of the gentlewomen could deny the queen's wishes. Besides, she brought a feeling of peace to the room, they felt. Morgause, the elder child, was talked about as the next queen, as her mother's heir, but Morgan was talked about for her wide, dark eyes and their Otherworldly stare. She spoke with the Fair Ones, with the beings that existed in the world between wake and sleeping, and they had blessed her birth.
Igraine ached and groaned and screamed, but she brought forth the child in her womb. She laid back on the bed, exhausted, while the gentlewoman who had been at her head left the room to tell the High King, Uther Pendragon, that a son had been born. The other woman cleaned the baby in Morgan's arm.
"Does.. does he live?" Igraine implored, her eyes clouded with tears. The baby had not cried, and her mind was frantic that she had lost a child. She could not bear that loss, coupled with the loss a very short while ago of her love, her champion, her chosen one, Duke Gorlois.
"Yes, lady," the gentlewoman whispered. "He lives and watches, but he does not cry..."
Igraine smiled at her youngest daughter, who seated herself on the bed so her mother could see the newborn child. The queen did not offer her arms for the child yet. "He is yours, Morgan," she whispered, and she smiled a small bit more. "Though I carried him and brought him forth, the Fair Ones have given him to you." She touched her youngest daughter's shoulder with a shaky hand, and Morgan looked astonished, though her mother and sister smiled at her. "Name him, my little girl. He is yours."
"Name him?" Morgan whispered, her eyes wide.
"Do so," Morgause offered, smiling. "He does not cry in your arms, so Mother must be right. He is meant as yours."
"Name him..." Morgan whispered again, though this time she looked at the blue eyes of the infant she held. "Mine..."
Before she could think of a proper name, the door of the room was flung open. King Uther, tall and broad with ruddy blond hair and flashing green eyes, walked in. Beside him, an aged, withered druid with piercing yellow eyes followed. Igraine's breathing became heavy, and Morgause tensed. Morgan alone did not react.
"There," Uther said, pointing at the baby within his wife's youngest daughter's arms. "I promised you him when he was born Merlin, and you may claim him now."
"No!" Igraine screamed. "No! You stole my husband, took my pride, but you shall not take my son!"
"You are mine," Uther spat at her. "You shall be only mine. Your son was promised to Merlin, and your daughters will not be tolerated in this castle any longer! I see their hate." His eyes turned on Morgause. "Pretty as your mother, but you are willful. You need a husband to show you the way--"
"No!" Igraine was still screaming. "Morgause--"
She was struck by Uther's heavy hand, and she sank onto the bed with a shuddering gasp. "Morgause will marry Lot," Uther commanded. "A fine husband, and he will know how to handle such a willful creature." He looked at Morgan, who still stared into the baby's eyes. "You... I cannot marry you off. Too young, but the Christians will take you, keep you away from trouble." He looked at Merlin. "Why do you stand there? I am willing to honor my promise, so take what you requested."
But the druid was looking at the two children, the girl and the newborn she cradled. "What do you see, child?" he asked of Morgan.
At last, she spoke, her voice gentle. "I see a beautiful castle with the red banner of Pendragon flying above it. He shall be a great king, and many will bow to him. But there are two shadows, two women. One is the sun, the other the moon. The first does not look at him but beyond, at something else. The other looks only at him, but she nurses a viper to her breast. One is his destruction, the other his death.."
Her calm was broken when Uther seized the child from her. Her eyes lost their Otherworldly mist, and she lunged for her stepfather, to take the child again. But knights that she had not heard enter restrained her. As Uther handed the baby to Merlin, Morgan was the one to start screaming. She said nothing, but her screams pierced the air, and birds outside the castle became jittery.
"Take her away!" Uther shouted, and Morgan was led, struggling all the while, from the room. "Father Benedict will be here soon to take her to the convent."
Morgause was also led away, but she did not struggle. She carried herself with the dignity that befitted a future queen of Cornwall. Igraine sobbed on the bed, powerless to help her daughters.
Uther approached her and touched her cheek, ignoring how she tensed at his presence. "Do not cry, my love," he cooed. "We shall have many more sons. Fine, strong boys to rule England and who shall care for you as you age."
Igraine said nothing. She merely wept where she lay.
The Guenevere Trilogy
951 words
It was a small party that attended Igraine, High Queen of Britain, as she brought forth a third child into the world. Two gentlewomen tended to her while her oldest daughter, a girl of fourteen, sat beside her, gripping her hands. One of the gentlewomen was near her head, applying spices and cool water and giving the queen a drink when she needed it. The other woman was at the foot of the bed, watching the child between the queen's legs, another of Igraine's daughter, a girl called Morgan.
She had insisted on helping her mother with the birth, and neither of the gentlewomen could deny the queen's wishes. Besides, she brought a feeling of peace to the room, they felt. Morgause, the elder child, was talked about as the next queen, as her mother's heir, but Morgan was talked about for her wide, dark eyes and their Otherworldly stare. She spoke with the Fair Ones, with the beings that existed in the world between wake and sleeping, and they had blessed her birth.
Igraine ached and groaned and screamed, but she brought forth the child in her womb. She laid back on the bed, exhausted, while the gentlewoman who had been at her head left the room to tell the High King, Uther Pendragon, that a son had been born. The other woman cleaned the baby in Morgan's arm.
"Does.. does he live?" Igraine implored, her eyes clouded with tears. The baby had not cried, and her mind was frantic that she had lost a child. She could not bear that loss, coupled with the loss a very short while ago of her love, her champion, her chosen one, Duke Gorlois.
"Yes, lady," the gentlewoman whispered. "He lives and watches, but he does not cry..."
Igraine smiled at her youngest daughter, who seated herself on the bed so her mother could see the newborn child. The queen did not offer her arms for the child yet. "He is yours, Morgan," she whispered, and she smiled a small bit more. "Though I carried him and brought him forth, the Fair Ones have given him to you." She touched her youngest daughter's shoulder with a shaky hand, and Morgan looked astonished, though her mother and sister smiled at her. "Name him, my little girl. He is yours."
"Name him?" Morgan whispered, her eyes wide.
"Do so," Morgause offered, smiling. "He does not cry in your arms, so Mother must be right. He is meant as yours."
"Name him..." Morgan whispered again, though this time she looked at the blue eyes of the infant she held. "Mine..."
Before she could think of a proper name, the door of the room was flung open. King Uther, tall and broad with ruddy blond hair and flashing green eyes, walked in. Beside him, an aged, withered druid with piercing yellow eyes followed. Igraine's breathing became heavy, and Morgause tensed. Morgan alone did not react.
"There," Uther said, pointing at the baby within his wife's youngest daughter's arms. "I promised you him when he was born Merlin, and you may claim him now."
"No!" Igraine screamed. "No! You stole my husband, took my pride, but you shall not take my son!"
"You are mine," Uther spat at her. "You shall be only mine. Your son was promised to Merlin, and your daughters will not be tolerated in this castle any longer! I see their hate." His eyes turned on Morgause. "Pretty as your mother, but you are willful. You need a husband to show you the way--"
"No!" Igraine was still screaming. "Morgause--"
She was struck by Uther's heavy hand, and she sank onto the bed with a shuddering gasp. "Morgause will marry Lot," Uther commanded. "A fine husband, and he will know how to handle such a willful creature." He looked at Morgan, who still stared into the baby's eyes. "You... I cannot marry you off. Too young, but the Christians will take you, keep you away from trouble." He looked at Merlin. "Why do you stand there? I am willing to honor my promise, so take what you requested."
But the druid was looking at the two children, the girl and the newborn she cradled. "What do you see, child?" he asked of Morgan.
At last, she spoke, her voice gentle. "I see a beautiful castle with the red banner of Pendragon flying above it. He shall be a great king, and many will bow to him. But there are two shadows, two women. One is the sun, the other the moon. The first does not look at him but beyond, at something else. The other looks only at him, but she nurses a viper to her breast. One is his destruction, the other his death.."
Her calm was broken when Uther seized the child from her. Her eyes lost their Otherworldly mist, and she lunged for her stepfather, to take the child again. But knights that she had not heard enter restrained her. As Uther handed the baby to Merlin, Morgan was the one to start screaming. She said nothing, but her screams pierced the air, and birds outside the castle became jittery.
"Take her away!" Uther shouted, and Morgan was led, struggling all the while, from the room. "Father Benedict will be here soon to take her to the convent."
Morgause was also led away, but she did not struggle. She carried herself with the dignity that befitted a future queen of Cornwall. Igraine sobbed on the bed, powerless to help her daughters.
Uther approached her and touched her cheek, ignoring how she tensed at his presence. "Do not cry, my love," he cooed. "We shall have many more sons. Fine, strong boys to rule England and who shall care for you as you age."
Igraine said nothing. She merely wept where she lay.