The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

They sat together on the edge of the bed, still holding hands, neither quite willing to break physical contact.

Rowan’s confusion was evident in every line of her face.

"What happened?" she asked. "How did you get here? A ward of the throne? What does that even mean?"

Morgana took a deep breath and tried to explain.

She told Rowan about the trial. About Cedric reading the charges. About the witnesses...Calla, Margot, Isolde, Vivienne, Seraphine, Celeste. About standing in the center of that vast marble floor feeling like she was drowning in accusations.

She told her about the despair. About the moment when she thought she was going to die.

And then she told her about Thorne standing up. About him saying he had evidence. About Petyr stepping forward.

Rowan’s grip on her hand tightened as Morgana told her about the servant’s testimony. About Isolde’s beautiful lies being exposed. About the conspiracy being revealed.

"Isolde did this?" Rowan’s voice was sharp with shock and anger. "She planted the necklace deliberately? To get you expelled?"

Morgana nodded.

She held Rowan’s hand and said "She came to the dungeon and told me that she planted the necklace in my bag."

"That bitch!" Rowan spat the word like a curse. "I always knew she was cruel, but this... this is deliberate, calculated destruction. She wanted to ruin you!"

"Yes," Morgana said quietly. "She wanted me gone."

"Why?" Rowan demanded. "What did you ever do to her?"

Morgana hesitated. The true answer was complex, it had to do with the kings’ attention, with Isolde’s sense that Morgana was a threat to her standing, with something that went deeper than simple jealousy.

But Morgana couldn’t explain that. Not without revealing things she didn’t understand herself.

"I was in the way," she said finally. "She wanted the kings’ attention, and she thought I was getting it instead."

Rowan’s expression softened slightly, understanding the politics of the palace, how attention from powerful men could be a commodity worth killing for.

"So the king used a law to save you?" Rowan asked.

Morgana shook her head and explained what little she knows about the law from how the king had explained it.

Rowan listened, her eyes growing wider with each revelation.

"The Law of Crown Protection?" she repeated. "I’ve never even heard of that law."

"Neither had anyone else apparently," Morgana said. "It hasn’t been invoked in over a hundred years."

"And the kings invoked it for you?" Rowan’s voice carried a note of awe. "They claimed you as a ward of the throne?"

Morgana nodded.

Rowan squeezed her hand. "Thank the gods. Thank the gods the kings found out. Thank the gods you’re safe."

***

They moved to sit more comfortably, settling into the chairs before the fireplace.

Rowan asked the questions that Morgana had been asking herself since the moment she arrived in these chambers.

"But what does it mean? That you’re a ward? What happens now? You live here? In the royal wing? And then what? Nobody just becomes a ward of the throne for no reason. There must be expectations, duties, something. What comes next?" Rowan wanted to know. "What are you supposed to do? Do you have duties? Are you part of the household now? What is your position?"

"I don’t know," Morgana admitted. The confession felt like a failure. "Nobody has explained it. I’m under the kings’ protection. I’m answerable to them. But beyond that... I don’t know."

Rowan reached over and squeezed her hand.

"It doesn’t matter," she said firmly. "It doesn’t matter what they say you are or what they expect of you. You’re my best friend. You’re Morgana. That’s all that matters to me."

The simple, powerful statement made Morgana’s eyes fill with tears.

"You’re alive," Rowan continued. "You’re safe. That’s what matters. Everything else, we’ll figure out."

But then Rowan’s expression became more serious.

"Are you?" she asked. "Really safe? With the kings?"

Morgana hesitated.

The question touched on something deeper than physical safety. It touched on her fear about her magic. Her terror about discovery. Her certainty that the moment the kings understood what she was, everything would end.

But she couldn’t tell Rowan that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"I think so," she said finally. "They seem to want to protect me."

Rowan studied her face for a moment, and Morgana understood that her friend knew there was something she wasn’t saying. Something deeper. Something hidden.

But she didn’t push.

Rowan reached over and took both of Morgana’s hands in her own.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Really okay? Not the surface okay, but actually okay?"

Morgana wanted to lie. She wanted to tell her friend that everything was fine, that she had survived, that she was grateful and safe and moving forward.

But this was Rowan. Rowan who had known her since they were children. Rowan who could read her like a book written in her own blood.

"I’m scared," Morgana whispered. "I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know who I am anymore."

Rowan pulled her close, holding her like she was precious, like she mattered, like her fear was valid and important.

"You’re Morgana," Rowan said softly. "You’re the girl who saved that cat from the well when we were eight, even though you were terrified of the dark. You’re the girl who made me laugh when my father was sick, when I thought the world was ending. You’re the girl who’s been my best friend since we were small. That’s who you are."

The grounding power of being known...truly known, made something in Morgana’s chest ease slightly.

She leaned against Rowan, and Rowan put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Just being together.

Just existing in the comfort of friendship.

No words needed.

Just presence.

Just the knowledge that even in this strange new world, even in this beautiful chamber in the royal wing, she was not alone.

Rowan was here.

Rowan loved her.

Rowan believed in her.

And for a moment, that was enough.

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