"I can't leave," Morgana said with a sad smile, "even if I wanted to, it's too late for that now. I'd bet everything I own he has me watched. If I came to you and Tristan, he'd know, he'd follow me, and he'd find us all." She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. "At least this way I can be useful, Mace. I have to keep Tristan safe, for Ar--..." The name stuck in her throat as her tears launched a fresh assault against her defences. This time, a few fought their way through. Wiping them away with long fingers, Morgana took a deep steadying breath and met Mace's gaze again. "For Arthur," she managed, hugging herself. "I won't rest until Tristan is on his father's throne where he belongs " Her expression hardened. "And Mordred has paid for what he's done. If I can brings those two things about Mace...I have to do this. I need you to try and understand that."

Her tears fell freely. Morgana abandoned any attempts at hiding them, concentrating instead on keeping her breathing steady. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to feel the warmth of him, the life pounding away beneath his skin. It felt like a lifetime since she'd been held by another living soul. "Oh..." she managed as she processed Mace's news of her mother. Her lip trembled. "I'd hoped..." she began. She'd hoped Nimueh had escaped with Tristan, and was safe in the forest. At least then he wouldn't be alone. He could have cried to his grandmother. There was...had been...something about Nimueh that stopped you from feeling like you had to hide the true colours of your soul. She was acceptance, and love, and affection. "Maybe she took Arthur," Morgana suggested in a quiet voice, her eyes drifting to the leaf-litter around her ghostly feet, "I hope so."

Loneliness threatened to smother her. The world suddenly seemed so empty, so joyless. She forced her gaze back to Mace.
"I miss you," she told him, finding a fierceness in that, "I wish you were with me. Everything seems so..." Morgana cast around for the word. "Wrong." It was the only one she could find. She sighed. "Can you help Tristan?" she asked him earnestly, "is there anything I can do? Anything I can send? Anything, anything he needs, you let me know. Promise me." Tell him I love him she wanted to say, but she couldn't. He couldn't know, for all their sakes.

Morgana managed a watery smile. "Oh well," she said, "at least I know you have Jo to keep you safe. You boys need someone sensible to keep an eye on you." The movement of his hand captured her attention and she smiled down at it regretfully as he raised it to her face. She raised her own, the soft blue glow of her skin casting a sickly light over his skin. She tried to run her fingers over his knuckles in appreciation, but her mind couldn't feel a thing.

"Oh, Mace," she breathed, "how did we end up in a nightmare?"