Morigan rose, curtsying at her father before walking behind him to take her seat. She perched on the edge, ready to take flight if she must. Her keep eyes flicked across the gathering as her father summoned forth his table companions. Her face was smooth as he gave the news of the loss of her- HIS- people. As the nobles of her fathers' court seated themselves, she remained quiet, a cool, almost serene look upon her face.<br/><br/>To the casual observer, she was a rather vacant girl, a mere puppet sitting upon the throne of her long dead mother. She heard the whispers of her suitors, speaking of how she was docile, dumb, good for breeding and her throne, and not much else... it angered her, but she simmered quietly, smiling her charming, vacant little smile. Even her father thought her dim.<br/><br/>She was just quiet. Her wetnurse had murmured the words in her ears long after she was old enough to be weaned. "It's the quiet ones you need to watch out for." So she was silent, ever watchful, face passive. She was not thought mute, for she would speak, but only to utter her impersonations of the other air-headed women of Court. Her mouth twitched minutely at the thought of the poor man who would wed her with thoughts of taking her throne.<br/><br/>When the doors opened, she blinked, turning her head to look. Like the rest of the (admittedly few,) women in the chambers, she swooned slightly at the sight of the man... the... thing... entering the room. She gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand as her father instructed her to be silent. She knew well enough about the customs of the barbarians who were at war with her people. She had sneaked in to the records room, and read all the information she could find on them. "Yes, Your Grace." she murmured back to him, sitting back up straight, eyes on their rather unwanted guest.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>