Merlin And Morgana Fanfiction の小説・ストーリー

"Wait—I might have something that can make it a whole lot easier." "How?" "A spell. To change your shape and your scent. Not much, just enough to mess with their scans." I lifted an eyebrow. "A spell? Who casts one on me?" He was grinning. "Remember Old Magda?" "Oh no. Not her. The woman's insane." "She is not insane. She is a morals-unquestioning mystic herbalist," he told me. "She's insane," I told him. "Talented," he said . "Come on, before you wake up to your senses."

Dressed in a slinky deep pink top and black pants, she looked as gorgeous as the first fucking time I saw her… "Xendaya, return his dagger." My fiery little angel, if you could call her one. She furrowed her brow, I think we all fucking knew not to mess with Morgana... But like myself, she loved to challenge her mother. I smirked, picking up my paintbrush and beginning to draw Morgana into my picture, leaving the mother-daughter duo to deal with it. Morwenna wanted me to paint, and although she was supposed to be painting with me, she had gotten distracted by a squirrel.

I said as she fumed in anger. "Oh, cut that crap! Even though I don't want to answer the question, I will do you the favour of answering you cos you might be suffering from amnesia," Morgana said with anger. "Go ahead. I'm listening," I smirked. "First of all, you seduced the Alpha by sleeping with him and worming your way to his heart when he was still mated to me. As if that was not enough, you further convinced him to reject me and make you his Luna. You never gave a hoot about how I will feel or how your evil actions will affect me. After you have succeeded in your scheme, you have the nerves to stand before me to tell me that you don't know the evil you have done?" she screamed.

and pursued me. Once we were together, he took me to donate blood all the time. Each time, I'd have 800ml of blood drawn from me. I stumbled on a rock at that thought and hit the ground. The bandage on my arm was scraped off, exposing a cluster of needle marks. So, Morgan had calculated everything from the moment we'd met. He'd planned on trampling my heart and draining my blood. How could Morgan be so cruel?

“They’re too straight, too clean—apart from that blood. Her hands… too soft. She’s no noblewoman, but she’s not some dockside kitchen wench either.” “She doesn’t fit,” I said, nodding. “Not noble. Not common. Definitely not crew.” Owen tilted his head. “And what does she claim to be?” “She claims nothing,” I replied, shaking my head. "Just mumblings of weddings and exploring caves. Sounded half-drunk and half-mad." He was quiet for a moment. “And Morgan...” he went on, testing the name on his tongue. “That’s a lad’s name.” I let out a soft chuckle. “Aye. Thought the same. But there’s tits on that chest. Clearly a woman.”