The minstrels with their lutes and lizards could already be heard through the halls of the castle as Morgana made her way to the great hall as Merlin. At the entrance stood two guards, who greeted, granted entry, and announced Merlin’s arrival.

The great hall was more than great to Morgana, it was titanic. She felt as small as the meadowsweet amongst the Ash trees, though her visage of Merlin was a good one foot taller than she. There was a large oak table that stretched across the length of the right side of the hall. To the left was a large space made available for merriment in the form of dance. Four minstrels of varying heights hung to the northern part of the hall. Morgana’s favorite of songs was the Quendrille, but she hadn’t danced it for nearly a year and worried her form would leave the King lacking in pleasure.

Boar and hare and deer lie upon the table with cauldrons of stew, rolls and wine. Their spices fresh to her, the smells mingling into one tempting scent that caused Morgana’s stomach to churn in eagerness for the feast that to Morgana was fit-for-the-gods, not her. Silverware glinted off the candles, like stars across the pitch of night. Even in Avalon, she did not eat such extravagant a meal, rather, she ate porridge, pork and chicken off horn dishes, but nothing as extravagant as the meal before her this day. She felt as though in a dream and couldn’t help but wonder about the other ladies still in Avalon.

“Merlin!” King Arthur was seated at the table’s head where the squire was directing Merlin. “I was just telling the tale of our battle with the Saxon’s and Edward here asked me where you were coming from when you happened upon the battle and steered us to victory. But I do not recall ever seeking this answer. Tell us from whence you came.”

Morgan’s heart began to drum in her ears. Her throat felt as if it would close on her any second. She couldn’t tell anyone about Avalon. A pact was made in blood that she could never reveal its existence. But she had to say something.

“From a land far off, for which I held no favor and care not to dwell upon.”

“I too have been places that hold memories for which I do not want to hold. Let us forget this request. Please have a seat.” King Arthur replied.

Morgana sat next to the King. The conversation was filled with tales of victories and losses, words flung into the air with fervor. Morgana wondered whether the drink and food occupying the King caused him to forget about the dance he saved for her. Part of her wanted him to forget, but the other part wanted to have her dance with the King.

“I don’t think I have seen your assistant all evening.”

“I shall look for her to make sure she has not fallen ill.”

Morgana exited the great room. Just outside was a knight and maiden quarreling. Morgana felt as though she knew the woman but could not place her. She continued down the darkened halls that the moon now kissed, looking for a section where she could return to her womanly form. Knights were abounding throughout the castle which made it quite difficult to transform, until she found one small hall that fell upon no ones eyes. She slid in and released her glamour.