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EXCEPT FOR THAT ONE DAY
(Guinevere's POV)

I should have been one of them, wearing their black robes and white headresses, but Mother wouldn't hear of it. "You are only here for your education, Guenivere. You are still a princess in your own right."
So there I was, in my pale blue gown, a pastel painting among crows. Elinor had forced flowers into my hair, exclaiming over its color as she always did. As the "good" Sisters passed me by I heard their comments: "priss" and "flower maiden brat" and "meekly stupid King's daughter".
My cheeks burned, and I lowered my head, fighting in vain to remain inconspicous.
"Do not judge Vivienne too harshly, Lancelot. All her other sons have left her."
I whirled around at the strong, wise voice with a touch of benevolence in it. It was definitley not one of the nuns at Glastonbury. Much too rich, too powerful
No one was there, but I heard a man's voice answer back, "She will be fine, Morgaine. I have a purpose, and it is not that of a Druid. You have one as well, intelligent as you are, and I hate to see you in my mother's shadow. There's something special that you carry, the blessing of Fey."
Had I gone insane? NO ONE WAS THERE.
"Not that annoying, childish joke again. 'Morgaine of the Fairies' indeed," the woman who was Morgaine said with some bitterness.
"Stop it! Please! Come with me, you are modest, but I see the extraordinary ability of magic in you that exceeds the Lady of the Lake herself, get away from this place of surrealism that is slowly disappearing! Morgaine, don't you know that I still-"
Something made him sgtop. Squiniting my eyes at the clinging fog, I could almost see two silhouettes.
"She senses something," Lancelot murmured. "You can open the veil between world, Cousin! Do it!" I could feel the fury of Morgaine radiating.
"No!" she snapped. "I will not use the Arts for play!"
A deep, throaty laugh emerges, most definitley from Lancelot. "Is it because you CAN'T do it, Cousin?"
A sharp intake of breath hit me like an ice-berg.
Blinking, I quite clearly saw three large boulders, and two people within arm's length. Lancelot was handsome, of dark hair and blue eys and sharp jaw, smiling at me.
There was a girl who I assumed was Morgaine, though this shocked me, as she had a woman's voice.
Small and dark, she had an almost eery radiance, and I saw why Lancelot said she had the "blessing of Fey". Large, pitch-black eyes penetrated me.
"Why, you are little and ugly, like the Fairy People!" I blurted out impulsively, and instantly regretted my words when I saw the onyxes glisten with tears.
She wasn't, actually. From a distance she seemed plain as a raven, but at a closer look she was actually quite the opposite:
Exotic, mysterious, with all the beauty of midnight.
I cursed my easily-found, simple prettiness, as I though of Lancelot's unfinished sentence, "Morgaine, don't you know that I still-"
What?
On her snowy-white forhead was a blue crescent moon, which the Mother Superior had told me was a sign of the Devil. Jumping back, I shrieked, "You ARE one of the Fairy People! Keep her away from me!" Crossing myself form the wickedness, I threw a pleading look at Lancelot.
He chuckled good-naturedly. "No, she's just as mortal as you and I." The boquet of daisies in my hands seemed childish, and I wish to throw them to the ground.
The church bells seemd muted, and I felt as if in another world.
"Where am I?" I asked, gliding slowly towards the two unfamiliar people.
"You're in Avalon," Morgaine said, and seemed like a magnificent mountain, I wondered how I could have thought her small.
Shrinking from her, I timidly asked, "What is your name?" Though I knew perfectly well what it was, I just didn't want her to know I had heard their conversation.
"Morgaine," she stated, looking down upon me.
"Lady Morgaine," I mumbled, dropping into a deep curtsy, my cheeks reddening.
"Queen Morgaine" would have been more appropiate with the way she looked, like a goddess, all-knowing and all-imposing. Silently, I berated myself-there was only one God, no Goddess.
"Don't do that," whispered Lancelto to Morgaine. "Don't frighten the poor girl so."
Often I wished I had not been "blessed" with good hearing.
"Avalon-Avalon doesn't exist. I must be dreaming!"
"Yes, it does," said Lancelot.
"May I stay awhile?" I asked, going nearer to his outstretched hand.
"You may stay as long as you like," he replied, grinning. Time slowed, and it was like we were the only two people who had ever been...
I saw a flash of the orange sleeve of Morgaine's dress, and they both vanished into the mist.
"Lancelot? Lancelot, can you hear me?"
I should not have been a part of this, these two who knew far more of the world than I. Backing away from the spot that vibrated with an unknown energy, I was frightened-but even with the pagan symbol on Morgaine's forhead, I did not believe-COULD not believe-that the strangeness was evil.
"A dream, only a dream," I chanted to myself. But it felt realer than anything I had ever known.
Later, when I would become Queen, I would come to distrust and even hate Avalon.
Except for that one day...

Exotic, mysterious, with all the beauty of midnight.

Description
EXCEPT FOR THAT ONE DAY
(Guinevere's POV)

I should have been one of them, wearing their black robes and white headresses, but Mother wouldn't hear of it. "You are only here for your education, Guenivere. You are still a princess in your own right."
So there I was, in my pale blue gown, a pastel painting among crows. Elinor had forced flowers into my hair, exclaiming over its color as she always did. As the "good" Sisters passed me by I heard their comments: "priss" and "flower maiden brat" and "meekly stupid King's daughter".
My cheeks burned, and I lowered my head, fighting in vain to remain inconspicous.
"Do not judge Vivienne too harshly, Lancelot. All her other sons have left her."
I whirled around at the strong, wise voice with a touch of benevolence in it. It was definitley not one of the nuns at Glastonbury. Much too rich, too powerful
No one was there, but I heard a man's voice answer back, "She will be fine, Morgaine. I have a purpose, and it is not that of a Druid. You have one as well, intelligent as you are, and I hate to see you in my mother's shadow. There's something special that you carry, the blessing of Fey."
Had I gone insane? NO ONE WAS THERE.
"Not that annoying, childish joke again. 'Morgaine of the Fairies' indeed," the woman who was Morgaine said with some bitterness.
"Stop it! Please! Come with me, you are modest, but I see the extraordinary ability of magic in you that exceeds the Lady of the Lake herself, get away from this place of surrealism that is slowly disappearing! Morgaine, don't you know that I still-"
Something made him sgtop. Squiniting my eyes at the clinging fog, I could almost see two silhouettes.
"She senses something," Lancelot murmured. "You can open the veil between world, Cousin! Do it!" I could feel the fury of Morgaine radiating.
"No!" she snapped. "I will not use the Arts for play!"
A deep, throaty laugh emerges, most definitley from Lancelot. "Is it because you CAN'T do it, Cousin?"
A sharp intake of breath hit me like an ice-berg.
Blinking, I quite clearly saw three large boulders, and two people within arm's length. Lancelot was handsome, of dark hair and blue eys and sharp jaw, smiling at me.
There was a girl who I assumed was Morgaine, though this shocked me, as she had a woman's voice.
Small and dark, she had an almost eery radiance, and I saw why Lancelot said she had the "blessing of Fey". Large, pitch-black eyes penetrated me.
"Why, you are little and ugly, like the Fairy People!" I blurted out impulsively, and instantly regretted my words when I saw the onyxes glisten with tears.
She wasn't, actually. From a distance she seemed plain as a raven, but at a closer look she was actually quite the opposite:
Exotic, mysterious, with all the beauty of midnight.
I cursed my easily-found, simple prettiness, as I though of Lancelot's unfinished sentence, "Morgaine, don't you know that I still-"
What?
On her snowy-white forhead was a blue crescent moon, which the Mother Superior had told me was a sign of the Devil. Jumping back, I shrieked, "You ARE one of the Fairy People! Keep her away from me!" Crossing myself form the wickedness, I threw a pleading look at Lancelot.
He chuckled good-naturedly. "No, she's just as mortal as you and I." The boquet of daisies in my hands seemed childish, and I wish to throw them to the ground.
The church bells seemd muted, and I felt as if in another world.
"Where am I?" I asked, gliding slowly towards the two unfamiliar people.
"You're in Avalon," Morgaine said, and seemed like a magnificent mountain, I wondered how I could have thought her small.
Shrinking from her, I timidly asked, "What is your name?" Though I knew perfectly well what it was, I just didn't want her to know I had heard their conversation.
"Morgaine," she stated, looking down upon me.
"Lady Morgaine," I mumbled, dropping into a deep curtsy, my cheeks reddening.
"Queen Morgaine" would have been more appropiate with the way she looked, like a goddess, all-knowing and all-imposing. Silently, I berated myself-there was only one God, no Goddess.
"Don't do that," whispered Lancelto to Morgaine. "Don't frighten the poor girl so."
Often I wished I had not been "blessed" with good hearing.
"Avalon-Avalon doesn't exist. I must be dreaming!"
"Yes, it does," said Lancelot.
"May I stay awhile?" I asked, going nearer to his outstretched hand.
"You may stay as long as you like," he replied, grinning. Time slowed, and it was like we were the only two people who had ever been...
I saw a flash of the orange sleeve of Morgaine's dress, and they both vanished into the mist.
"Lancelot? Lancelot, can you hear me?"
I should not have been a part of this, these two who knew far more of the world than I. Backing away from the spot that vibrated with an unknown energy, I was frightened-but even with the pagan symbol on Morgaine's forhead, I did not believe-COULD not believe-that the strangeness was evil.
"A dream, only a dream," I chanted to myself. But it felt realer than anything I had ever known.
Later, when I would become Queen, I would come to distrust and even hate Avalon.
Except for that one day...

Exotic, mysterious, with all the beauty of midnight.