Nature of an obsession
Disclaimer
The characters belong to S. Meyer. Plot belongs to Martina Bennet. I just translate with permission of the author
This story can touch topics such as past lives, violence, Lemmons and other issues that may affect the sensitivity of the reader or go against their beliefs.
WELCOME!
Prologue
Carpathian Mountains, Eurasia. 885 D.C
Her beautiful blonde hair blowing in the wind like a proud banner is then raised irreproachable victory. His arms like snakes silk underwater, were precise and harmonious movements. Her hips, perfect for procreation swayed as juicy peaches partially covered by leaves, hanging from the branches of a tree that sways with grace.
He couldn't take his eyes off her, her body, her overbearing and rich sensuality. She danced for him, though she did not know. He knew he shouldn't be there, but could not help but stop and look when he heard the mesmerizing music coming from the clearing. He knew that the women gathered there to make offerings to the moon and a moment away from the household duties, but never before had witnessed these rituals.
Sitting around a bonfire located in a small clearing sheltered by leafy trees and thick undergrowth all women of the tribe were. Older sung to the beat of drums that played the middle-aged and younger danced around the fire with undulating and individual movements that evoke distant times, ancestors and rites lost in time. The dancers wore little clothing, just a patch of skin to cover her breasts and a larger one in the form of loincloth tied at the waist with flax fiber ropes. They wore her hair and bare feet and their faces were painted with lines crisscrossing forming abstract figures and symbols Rovas they did honor to the gods.
Kopján, youngest son of Kond, one of the seven Hungarian tribal leaders, was tall for his 18th birthday, tanned skin, straight hair and black as the darkest night, and ripped gray eyes, square jaw, high cheekbones and thin lips. He had already passed the tests that led him to adulthood, and within weeks would go with his father, his brothers and tribesmen into battle. There he could carry with pride the colors of his clan war and belong to known as The Scourge of God as they were called by their enemies by having the ability to hit with arrows in horses at full gallop.
The boy kept looking, while the music flowing from the drums became more and more frantic, and women were more agile movements dancing and jumping to the beat of the flames they worshiped. The pounding of drums became faster and faster until it becomes almost a buzz and a smudge of sensuality female bodies. Without warning it all stopped, the drums ceased, and the women stopped their movements. The blonde breathing rapidly fell to his knees, his head bowed and her hair covering her face, her body toward the young warrior. Suddenly she looked up and their eyes met, her eyes were a deep blue and were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.
She smiled at him. He knew he had lost his soul.
Sensuality.
Sexuality.
Passion.
Lust.
Wildness.
I had completely lost their will, their interests, ambitions and dreams of war and power. Her body was everything he touched and lost track of time and space. He did not care anything, just have her, hold her in his arms and know that was his alone.
She was the first woman he was intimately since childhood he had dreamed of being like his father, a great warrior who fought in great battles beside the Prince Almos, that was his goal, but now all that was overshadowed by the blonde beauty that warmed his bed.
-Sarolta join me , I want you to take my name and wear my badge -picked up her hand and squeezed it gently against his strong and muscular chest- I want everyone to know that you belong to me , you're mine. Join me and I will give you whatever you ask me and more.
...
Imara, Kopján mother, noticed how his younger son was eaten by something she could not discover. She thought it was a woman and imagined what it might be, but when asked the boy what happened this replied that everything was fine and not to worry, they were just craving for battle.
Not content with the words of his son, the woman, before joining her husband in bed prayed to the Turul -a large bird messenger between gods and humans-for this would give some indication of whether the bond between the couple it was best.
The next morning Imara woke distraught. The Turul had appeared in a revealing dream -Sarolta will be perdition for your child, your heart will be halved and shed blood are the tears of his soul. And sitting on the bed, tears running down her cheeks, she looked down at her lap and found a large silver feather, shows that it wasn't just a dream.
The woman tried by all means to reason his son, spoke to her husband, but despite that showed him the pen, he said that perhaps had misinterpreted the words of the great bird.
A few days after the engagement was announced, and it was decided that the ceremony would take place the day before the departure of men to the next battle.
...
Kopján could not believe what he saw. It was the night before the ceremony that would unite forever to Sarolta. She must be being prepared for the celebration, or at least resting for a very long day. But no, she was there, lying behind some bushes at the start of the forest, her naked body, sweating and panting as she was savagely attack by one of the warriors of lesser rank.
By observing the scene first thought was that the damn man was forcing her, and when he was about to embark on this to remove him from his beloved, he heard what he thought at the time, his condemnation to eternal suffering.
-Do not stop ... well, well ... -laughed hysterically- If I don't wish the position that I get ... by joining Kopján ... I would bring it here to learn how it's done
Pain.
Bleakness.
Anguish
Death
The young man went away unable to see more. His chest felt like a vacuum is formed and as his soul was slowly dying. He wanted to feel anger, rage, but could not. He loved her too much to dishonor breaking the commitment and even announcing the reason. Sarolta I'll marry you, and when I return from the battlefield will take you to be only mine.
...
The ceremony took place normally. Sarolta smiling all the time, Imara cried and the boy suffered in silence. He had a hard time pronouncing words that promised her protection and care, and only the belief that it was a bad moment that she spent the night before, was what allowed him to finish the ritual.
In the marriage bed he forgot everything that happened, as happened whenever he was with her.
- Do you love me Sarolta? -Had asked for a moment of hesitation, she with a smile had replied:
-Love everything you are, everything you stand- And he misinterpreting his words, was happy.
The next day they went to the lowlands of the Carpathian and it was not until a month after the fact that he wanted out of his mind and his heart fell with all the weight of despair.
-I don't know how Kopján not ever realized the kind of woman he have.
-Has wrapped her legs, she is an expert in that.
-I do not dare to say anything, I still have the skin over the meat and thought she could have changed him. -Said a third man.
-All we have been with her thought the same, but Sarolta is not a one-man woman, and just hope that Kopján not find out ever. He's a good kid, a great warrior and a decent female deserves its name, not one that offers her favors as many men as trees have the forest.
-And probably that is joined to him by his position- He opined, the other man nodded gravely.
That was all he needed to hear. The words she had said the night before the ceremony in the woods permeated the mind and pierced his heart. She did not love him, just wanted what he could give him as the son of one of the leaders of the seven clans. She cheated on him, betrayed him, and he still loved her.
...
Burning, that's what he felt. A burning in his chest so big he thought that burned inside. But it was only a couple of seconds and then darkness. He didn't know what had occurred to him that feeling, just remembered being on horseback in a feigned retreat, a tactic used to fool his enemies retreating and then spun half his body to throw arrows and take them unawares.
It was at the time of removal that his mind turned to cloud the memory of his wife. Her body, her face, her beautiful hair and then betrayal, and pain; pain that became physical when an arrow pierced his heart.
The distraction that had caused the memories caused him to be slow in his movements and one of the enemies took the slow rider to show his newly acquired skill with the bow and throw a clever attack on the young. The arrow had hit his back and crossed perfectly chainmail, to be embedded in your heart.
Bewilderment. Being able to see their own lying on the horse's body which by the sudden impact was heading full speed towards the position of its allies.
Anguish. Seeing his father receive his body as he fell to his knees with him in his arms, screaming like a madman to the heavens the pain of the loss of his youngest son.
Sadness. By imagining his mother received the news of his death already accepted.
And anger, wrath of the most intense realizing that the blame for all this misfortune had its own name. Sarolta.
Damn her!
Her mother had warned him and would not listen, and now she would suffer for his stupidity, his father, his brothers, the name of the tainted by his senseless death family.
It was all her fault , how much he hated , and how much he hated himself for having given her heart to a shrew like her.
-Do not torment more Kopján, I will comfort your mother, I will give strength to your father death in battle will never be a disgrace.
The Turul was behind him. He knew how had by tales he had heard of women and the few men who had revelations, but had never seen it himself.
- That woman destroyed me and my family!- He was surprised to learn that tried to speak but could not, just thought the phrase, and when the Turul replied realized this also spoke to him in thought.
-'ll take care to pay for what she has done, you now only need to rest and wait.
- Wait for what? -Asked the young warrior.
Your time at this time is over, but not your time in the world. You reborn and everything will balance.
- When will that be? -Kopján frowned.
-When is the time. Rest now, I'll take care of your family.
Everything disappeared around and a darkness that had nothing to do with fear or agony, but with the peace and quiet state of mind as he wrapped.
...
1430
- It is time?
-No, still sleeping, I'll let you know.
...
1852
-I want this to end, I cannot wait any longer!
-Be patient, not missing much. Sleeps.
...
London, England. June 20, 1976
-Wake up, your time has come to be born again.
- How long has it been?
-The enough for the world you knew disappear completely.
- What do I have to do?
-Only dedicate to live, it will come to you in time. Happiness and with it the woman who is destined for you, which will make everything balance, which will belong completely and you shall belong to her.
-But, How acknowledge? Tell me how it is, where I find, when I will know.
-Nothing will serve, once you are born all your memories are erased, so it should be and it is. But your soul will recognize, and that will be enough for you to know that she will have to belong.
-And who will I be? , tell me what I will focus on, what part of the world will be born. -The Turul shook his head -At least tell me which my name is, I ask only that my name.
-Edward Cullen.
And the darkness adsorbed again, but this time to usher in a blinding light. The lamplight of the maternity ward.
I hope you enjoy this story. I will update soon.