Morgana Pendragon Dresses Mga Nobela at Kwento

She barely had enough energy to cry, and yet, she wept, her shoulders rocking up and down, breathy sobs coming out of her. "My dress hissed and swished with each step as I walked towards him. I told myself I would be OK. If I just had my mate, I would be OK. So I took it. Every comment, every snide remark, every dress that never flattered me, every task that belittled me. I took it all." Alpha Riven looked up at the moon, giving her a bit of privacy as she blew her nose and continued. "Morgana herself, wore the most beautiful gown I had ever seen. Of course they were still on the color of her temple clothes, but they were so beautiful and form fitting, you'd think she was the one marrying.

The guards bow again and vanish through the iron doors. I stand still, my arms crossed tightly, not out of pride but to keep from shaking. My breath catches when I hear the first drag of chains and the creak of metal gates. Then, I see her. Morgana. She’s not the woman I imagined. She’s smaller and frailer, her posture a broken echo of the queen she must have once been. Her hair is a dull, tangled gray, her face pale and drawn. Yet, even beneath the ruin, there’s something hauntingly regal about her, an old elegance now cloaked in shame.

"You didn't have to." Before anyone could even blink, the heavy doors at the far end of the chamber swung open. Morgana stepped inside, moving like she’d been waiting just outside for the perfect moment to make her entrance, which, knowing her, was probably true. Dust clung stubbornly to her boots, her hair pulled back into a tight braid, and every crease in her clothes spoke of a journey she’d only just finished. But there was no trace of exhaustion in her stride. If anything, she looked more alive and alert than ever.

"Morgana? Seriously? What, is Merlin in the hallway getting us some lattes? Look, lady, I’m an academic. I deal in facts, not Arthurian cosplay. Get out before I call campus security." The air in the room suddenly intensified. The temperature plummeted, and the shadows on the walls began to writhe like living things. Morgana’s eyes flashed with a terrifying, violet light. "I took that namesake because it represents power," she hissed, her face contorting with a sudden, violent rage. "Power that men like you could never comprehend. You mock me? You, who whimpers in the dark because your grandfather’s blood is too thin to save you from mediocrity?"

Morgana stepped away from him and smoothed the front of her white silk gown. She looked radiant. The fitted dress hugged her slender waist before flowing gracefully over elegant curves. Flowers were woven through her dark hair, and confidence shone in every smile she gave the crowd. Only then did I notice the wedding ring already resting on her finger. A wave of dizziness crashed over me. My knees almost gave out beneath me. "Morgana." My voice shook. "What is this?" She lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "It looks exactly like what it is, Ophelia."

A strange feeling held me down. I watched as she sat with Red Dragon and began to discuss, answering whatever he asked with elegance. My heart began to pound against my ribcage. That should be me sitting there. Had he forgotten me? Was fifteen years enough to erase me from his memory? I tightened my grip on the railing. I might've lost everything, but I wouldn't lose the Red Dragon. Not today. If I have to fight for it, so be it. I stepped back into the room and packed my clothes into my bag, leaving out my best black gown.

Rebekah moved closer to him, making sure their arms are touching before she continued eating. * MORGAN'S PLACE* Morgan is standing in front of her wardrobe, staring at the dress she and Lizzy twinned with. Sadness swirled in her eyes as she stared, and she slowly took the gown. She hugged it to her chest. "Lizzy" She muttered in disappointment. She walked to the disposal bowl and threw the gown inside, then she went back to her bed was about to climb up when the door barged open, and her foster mother came in.

"So, finally you changed your mind." Drake smiled sweetly at the woman in front of him. Morgana was dressed in a tube down that leaves her upper body bear to the eyes, already gathering attention to them, as those around them couldn't take their eyes off her. Her silver hair was beautifully styled and pinned at the back of her head to stop it from causing obstructions to her gorgeous skin. She was dressed to kill and people are mentally being slaughtered. Her long lashes fanned seductively as she responded to the beautiful man in front of her.

And even in this second chance at life it still torments me. Morgana was fucking stunning in that green piece. The moment I spotted it, I knew it would be perfect on her. I wanted to abandon all caution. Pull her into my lap and fuck her while she wore it. That’s why I fucking bought it. Instead, I ruined everything. She cried. Seeing tears in her eyes did something to me I can’t even fucking explain. I hate it. But at the same time I like it. I want to make her cry. At the same time I want her to be crying out my name in pure pleasure. I want to own every part of Morgana. Her tears. Her laughter. Her pleasure. Every fucking part of her.

I stated. “No, problem,” Nathan said. I’m standing outside of the girls’ dorm, and I’m as nervous as hell. The door opens, and it’s a couple of girls dressed up heading over to the main hall for the dance. The door opened again, and out stepped Morgan. She was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. She had dyed her normally pink hair an icy blue. She looked ethereal, like an angel gliding down the stairs. Her dress was silver and blue, the material intertwined and crisscrossing her body.