Come undone.
The word is undone.
It is running through her veins.
It is calling her with a ragged voice, a bare whisper, a soft puff of air she recognizes so well.
The word is undone, defenseless.
It marks scars on her skin, twisting her nerves like cords.
It fills her up and spills itself over her soul.
The word is undone, defenseless, lost.
It curves under her fingertips.
It hides inside her and moans and bites and beats.
The word is undone, defenseless, lost and found.
This word is everything around her that burns in flames when he raises blue eyes on her, holding her with the sheer power of his stare, like a magnate, like a fire for the butterfly. She will burn, she will die reaching it, but it has power all over her, the power she fights constantly, every single second, no, every single heart beat...
Thump – don't give in. Thump – be strong. Thump – stay away. Thump… Thump… Thump. Then he enters the room and there are no thumps, just an echo of a long forgotten melody and a voice singing the words into her paralysis "…undone… burning eyes… time… wounded… life… all that I am… all that I need…" As he comes closer and brushes his hand over her shoulder she can almost hear herself moan "…a touch of your hand and I come undone… "
Her heart races from zero to 200 beats per minute, and it rushes out of her chest, out of her self, and somewhere down its way to hell he picks it up and holds it so tight, so strong, oh so secure.
She knows the word. Undone. It has always been. It is now.
And yet she fights.
And she battles it out of her mind.
She knows she will not be able to battle her own heart. But as long as she tries and he catches her every time she fails – she is ready to try over and over again.
She knows he will have his way, he always does. But she will go down with the fight of her life. Just so both of them remember. Long after…
She lost the war the moment she saw his eyes at her door, the second she felt his hands touch hers, the thump she missed when his lips touched hers.
She lost the war, but there is this one last battle to give, and she so desperately wants to win it. Just this once before he puts on his crown and she submits to his eternal glory, to his magic, to his world that is slowly rounding itself over her, spreading excitement and warmth, and something old and new, and pleasant and painful, and hers and not, and his and not, and theirs, theirs, theirs.
She breaths in the evening air feeling her skin tingle announcing his approach and hides a smile at her own bravery to even believe she can still fight when her own skin is giving up on her, when her own body is his best ally and her own self has long before fled the battle field and wants nothing but to celebrate its defeat in the enemy's camp.
She wants to surrender to the merciful lord. She will, she thinks, but not tonight. Tonight she is still the only royalty in this room. And tomorrow she may join his victorious coronation, but tonight she is the queen and he is just a man.
2
Inspired by a song "I come undone" by Jennifer Rush.