Excalibur's Seven | ✓ [LGBT]

~ 31 ~

THE IRON CLUTCHED MORGANA'S throat once more, darkening the vision around his eyes. He didn't have the voice to scream anymore, but his mouth hang open as he whimpered like a dog. His eyes were bloodshot, hands bloodied from scratching at the chain.

Finally, it let him go. He fell to the ground in a fit of coughs, and the guard before him raised his chin with the dirty toe of his boot. "Don't try to get out again."

Morgana could see the irritation at the other man's neck, but it wasn't nearly as bad as his own. He was starting to get dizzy even from where he sat, fighting to catch his breath.

A swift slap rang out across the cell, and Morgana's hand flew up to nurse his cheek. He looked up to see what the man was angry about now.

"Don't fall asleep, the Prince is coming for a visit."

The guard tossed a black stone his way before he left. Morgana let it sit on the floor beside him, ignoring his body's plea for healing. He couldn't become dependent on it, and he didn't want to keep getting better if they were just going to beat him down again. It was pointless.

As promised, the insufferable prince made his way to Morgana's cell, gripping a scepter, a long, wooden thing, a pointed green stone at its end. Stolen faery magic, he could tell. There was no way to get something like that anywhere else.

"Good morning," the prince greeted, voice as plain as butterless toast. Everything about him was plain. Perhaps Morgana would respect him more if he wasn't so awful. He could understand why Kit was the way he was, if this was who everyone expected him to act like, it made sense that he'd do anything to avoid it.

The cell door slammed behind Connor, and he took his time getting comfortable in the chair that sat before Morgana, brought in there earlier in the day just for this moment.

"You must be wondering why I'm here."

"I actually don't care why you're here, I would really prefer if you'd just fuck off," Morgana muttered. He would likely pass out at any other attempt of torture, so he didn't bother being careful.

Fortunately, or perhaps not so much, the prince didn't even flinch at his back talking. He simply composed himself again, and got back to his speech.

"Right. Well, I'm not going to. I have something you need to see. It's from your mother," he said.

Morgana perked up. "Astyr? She's been in touch?"

He didn't know why his living mother would be in touch with the Prince, but he trusted her judgment more than he even trusted Giselle's. She was the smartest woman he knew.

"You're going to want to get comfortable, this will be a lot to take in," Connor said. Morgana swore he saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but he couldn't see which one.

There was no other option, so Morgana settled in as he was told, sitting against the wall and looking up at Connor with confusion.

The prince rose to his feet, adjusting the scepter in his hands so the gem was pointed Morgana's direction. It suddenly made sense where they got a faery tool, but at the same time, Astyr wasn't rich enough or powerful enough to get her hands on a tool like that. What has she been up to?

He couldn't dwell on the thought, though, because Connor was touching the gem to his forehead and telling him to take a deep breath. And just like that, he was somewhere else.

A bed. He was laying in a bed, but it wasn't his. Next to him was a woman he didn't know, and two children wrapped in her arms. When he looked down at himself, he looked different. His skin had color, and he was a bit more muscular. His hair was wavy and brown, clothes closer to an autumn faery's.