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Monologue Of Morgana

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All the fine clothes and jewels in Albion could not compensate for the fact Morgana’s beloved father, Gorlois, was dead. She’d rather live in a stinking hovel with him than here in this palace with a cold king as her guardian and the exceptionally irritating Arthur. “Oh, you and the prince are so close in age,” said everyone, “and you’ll be the best of friends.” With the pale moonlight spilling into her lavishly appointed bedchamber, Morgana scoffed in her bed. She despised everything about the castle, and that included the people in it. Every aspect of castle life was stiff and formal, from the meals to the lessons. “Why did you have to die, Da? Why?” The tears she’d held at bay all day long fell. Morgana would not allow these people

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