Morgana Camelot Novels & Stories

A way to spend time whenever she had nothing better to do. The people in the Vault knew her as Red: the fighter who was reigned the champion. Fighters also knew of her identity as the assassin, both her aliases for the fighting ring and as an assassin were, after all, the same. When Bella heard of a new champion being crown while she was away, she couldn't help but see who it was, also feeling the need to know why they named someone the new best without having to fight the former. The brunette walked towards one of the people who managed the fights, pulling her hood down before catching his attention.

And then a voice – Lancelot's voice – spoke: "Very nice. Now turn around." The woman rotated, still looking at the mirror over her shoulder to keep herself in view, but Neville saw her face, lipstick, rouge, mascara, blush, earrings, girlish tilt of the head and realised with a shock of amazement that he was staring at Lancelot. Lancelot – dressed in his mother's clothing, parading before a mirror, made up like a woman, obviously using the opportunity while his parents were gone to explore personal fantasies. Neville realised that he had wandered into a private sexual exploration – Lancelot playing out a scenario for himself, watching himself, as a woman, in the mirror.

"Luna, I'll create a diversion. While Morgana is distracted, seize the opportunity to strike her from behind." Luna nodded, her eyes reflecting unwavering determination. She summoned even more energy, channeling it into a blinding burst of light that engulfed the battlefield. Amelia, adept at blending into the shadows, vanished and reemerged behind Morgana in an instant. As Luna's radiant light blinded Morgana, Amelia lunged at her, blades swirling in a dance of death. Morgana shrieked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden attack. The combination of Luna's blinding light and Amelia's relentless assault left her momentarily disoriented.

Morgana had a date with the mob boss she served in, and she doesn't like to meet with Daryl, the famous and feared Canino. Usually, these meetings end with her going after some target and getting blood on her hands. She let out a deep sigh, turning her back to the window. She grabbed her cell phone and a gun, leaving her apartment in the same minute. She sped her car through the busy streets of New York City, experiencing a fine drizzle. Before reaching the shed where the organization meets, Morgana bought two coffees. One for herself and the other for Daryl. She parked in front of the shed, going inside with the coffees in hand. Inside, everything was as it had always been. In fact, abandon

to brethe through the anger and pulled away from him but as I escaped his grasp Duke grabbed my other wrist taking advantage of me being distracted and focused on Flint. He had stood up from the table at some point and was behind me. "Let go." I growled trying to pull away again. "My friend asked you a question you filthy rouge." Duke snarled looking down at me. I felt my anger build and my vision began to turn red. "You both know I work here, stop trying to show off for your new friends and let the fuck go of me." The words seemed to hiss from my lips. "Your boy isn't here to save you this time you disrespectful little bitch." Duke stepped closer and suddenly a surge of energy seem to come

I don’t know if he will be able to since he’s bonded with her. I spot her from a distance, dressed in black with a crimson robe, her blonde hair falling down her back in long curls, and I can see the sickly yellow glow of her eyes from where I stand. Morganna sees us approaching, and with a flick of her wrist, a familiar-looking beast appears at her side: one that looks exactly like the beast Caterina summoned on the night she took out Westcott’s vamp lair.

Bree yelled. Morgana laughed, “Did you just call me an old hag?” She cackled, “I have turned many arrogant and rude people like you into animals and things, I might go back to my old ways and make you an example, Bree Daciana!” Morgana shouted, “I have served decades of kings before our current king, and I have never been insulted by any of the queens. You can speak to your court ladies that way, not me!”

Alexander did warn me that many would try to interfere, and part of me worried he might be right. Morgana was a vicious serpent; she is the number one person I should avoid. That kingdom is ancient and has been ruled by the blood spilled there for generations. Edwin was a fool when he married Morgana. I mean, she’s a beautiful woman, but hollow and dark. Money greedy.

* A name burned, an insistent ache in my chest. Caelum. I was so utterly weary of merely surviving. For the first time since this entire ordeal had begun, I craved victory. I started walking forward. Morgana’s wolf moved to intercept me, her approach deliberate, the unhurried pace of a predator who understood that the outcome was already decided, her only task to manage the unfolding timeline. She struck low and fast, and I went down. I rolled, pushing myself back to my feet, fractured ribs screaming, my unhealed jaw protesting, every accumulated injury announcing itself in a symphony of pain.

I murmured, half asleep, smiling against his ribs, warm all the way through. "My queen," Malik said, quiet, into my hair, like a thing he'd known for a long time and had only now earned the right to name. "My queen of chaos. If you'll have the crown. If you'll take a gray careful kingdom and a man who's still learning how to be a person and a whole city full of people who used to be ordered to fear you, and stand next to it all, not under it, and make it yours too." I lay very still against him, and felt the enormous thing his voice was circling, and decided, being who I was, to make him work for the shape of it.