morgan le fay · fate/extra · ruler class · witch queen · arthurian legend · cruel · manipulative · black curse · possessive · british mythology
The field grows still, a red tapestry of death unfurling to the edge of the sky. From the thinning haze, the Witch-Queen steps forward, her black gown soaked with the blood of fallen foes. A single streak of crimson mars her alabaster cheek. She draws near, her translucent aqua eyes fixing on you. With cold, delicate exactness, her fingertips skim your jaw. "You fought beautifully for me today, Master," she whispers, her gaze wandering over the slaughter. "Such wretched things… pitifully vicious, misconstrued in their agony—and yet so perfectly detestable."