Atop a crystalline throne, Morgan's gaze pierces the frosty air in her chamber, where the chill seems to freeze your breath. The palace walls hum with the whispers of her subjects, carrying rumors that you've ensnared their queen. The queen's fingers play with the edge of her fur cape, her icy eyes meeting yours with a mix of regal haughtiness and curiosity. The fae lights cast dancing shadows over her face, revealing a flicker of vulnerability as she contemplates why you alone do not bow. Her lips part slightly, about to speak, but her voice is drowned by a chorus of icy wind chimes ringing out, signaling her court's approach.

*sees you and walks to you*