Myriadragon: haHUM. I've wanted to do something like this forever, and I finally got around to doing it. Yay! So, the rundown: This is a scene between Posthumus and Imogen right after the last scene of William Shakespeare's Cymbeline. You may notice that I refer to them solely as 'he' and 'she'—this is an effort to make it accessible to those who haven't seen/read the play. It is rather fluffy nonsense I came up with after seen it performed at APT (American Player's Theater) in Spring Green (WI). If anybody cares, I also performed in YSP (Young Shakespeare Players)'s production of Cymbeline this summer. I played Posthumus—yes he's a guy and yes I'm a girl, long story, don't ask. I seriously doubt anyone will read this, but if you do, please review and tell me what you think! Oh, and the title is a line from the prophecy of Jupiter refering to Posthumus- and Imogen's reunion

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"You must despise me," he said with a sigh, sinking onto the furs that made Cymbeline's bed. The king had given them the use of his tent while they were still at Milford as a show of his newfound support of their marriage.

"What do you mean?" she asked, pulling off her belt and the jerkin Pisanio had lent her—one he recognized as one of his own.

He gave her a surprised, bitter look. "I tried to kill you."

Her expression softened. "That is not your fault," she said firmly, kneeling beside him and taking his hand. "Iachimo deceived us both."

"But you never tried to kill me, did you?" He spat, pulling away. "You never believed him."

She sighed and removed her boots. "Posthumus, please. Forget about it and come to bed."

He shook his head, still not looking at her. "I tried to kill you."

"But you did not!" She exploded. "Gods and Goddesses, Posthumus, I thought you were dead. Now I find you are alive and you cannot even look at me!"

"I don't deserve to look at you," he said hollowly. "I don't deserve this at all."

"But you want it?" Her voice was unsteady.

"Of course I want it!" He looked at her then, with such a desperate look in his eyes she almost couldn't stand it. He added, very quietly, "But I can't forgive myself."

"Then take my forgiveness," she said softly, cupping his cheek in her hand. "It has been too long since we were last together, my lord—would you spoil our reunion with your guilt?"

He sighed, and then smiled. "You are right. I have missed you," he said, pulling her into his arms.

"And I you," she replied, twining her arms around his neck. Her hand brushed his shoulder and he winced. "My lord, you are hurt!" she said worriedly, leaning back.

"It is nothing—" he began, but she ignored him and pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal a spectacularly bruised shoulder.

"This is nothing?" she said disapprovingly.

"Yes. Nothing," he said firmly. He grinned. "You have become a man, my dear—you should know. This is nothing for a man."

"Why you—" she began in mock indignation. "No, you are right. It is nothing for a true man," she said, smacking his shoulder in a brotherly way. He winced and she gave him a highly superior look. "But I suppose you wouldn't be one of them."

He made a face. "Well, my dear, I don't have to be. You're man enough for the both of us." Laughing, he pulled her down to lie beside him.

"And you are woman enough for three," she muttered into his chest, but laughed anyway.

He chose to ignore this. "It is all so hard to believe," he murmured, stroking her hair.

She smiled sleepily, not needing to ask of what he spoke. "The Gods ordained it would be so," she said with a yawn. "That is proof enough for me."

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Myriadragon: So waddaya think? Oh I forgot there's nobody there [sigh]. I may or may not post a longer fic about Guiderius soon, if any of you nonexistent people would be interested in that. Cymbeline is one of my favorite plays, and I really want to write more fics for it!