Author's Note – Much thanks to chiefhow for being my only reviewer for last chapter. I very much appreciated the review. The story is darker, yes, and Morgaine will get what she deserves – or will she? I'm sorry for the short-ish chapters. For stories such as these, I prefer them to be a little bit longer. There is a surprise coming in a little later on.
Chapter 9 – Worth It All"Of course Lucan is not heir – he is not Arthur's true son nor does he have any of that blood in him… he is but a bastard child of one of them," Morgaine hissed. "We have nothing to fear, husband. He may have a dozen children and still it would not matter." Morgaine's laughter was like brittle rocks – rough sand sifting between his fingers. Marcus observed her from his bed, his mouth twisted into a snarl. But Morgaine just laughed at him.
"We have no children… who will follow us to the throne. What if I die? The people love that boy… he's no longer a boy anyhow. The pity they feel for him – they were father to him as Arthur was. They will rejoice in our passing and follow him!" Marcus spat, reaching for the wine goblet at his bed side and drinking from it in a careless, almost drunken, manner. Finding it suddenly empty, he flung it at the floor where even the dull sound of wood against stone echoed in the silence. He grunted, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
"Men know nothing of politics," Morgaine scoffed. "They are too obsessed with power."
"And you, woman? What is it that you hunger for?" Marcus demanded angrily, spitting at her. Morgaine growled a little but forced her lips into a sly grin. She moved slowly towards him, her tangled hair falling across his bare chest, face and shoulders – suffocating him. She raked her fingernails lightly across his exposed flesh, pressing her lips to his neck so that he shivered with each breath that crept across his skin.
"I have a secret, husband," she whispered, her mouth below his ear. "Ha!" she said suddenly, startling him. "Men cannot keep secrets either… how badly do you want to know? Tell me…" Marcus pushed her away roughly so that she fell to the floor, her gown flying just above her knees. Morgaine giggled almost too gaily for his comfort. She was mocking him.
"I do not care for secrets," he said. "When do you sleep, woman? Sleep now before I beat you."
"Where do I sleep when you have pushed me from the bed? Besides… beat me and I will enjoy it…" She stood up from the ground and reached out to touch his clean-shaven face with her rough hands, digging her dagger-like fingernails into his cheek. "You try, Marcus… your eyes – they never longed for me… your heart never yearned for me nor your hands to touch me… but I know… such a compromise comes with a price."
"I said sleep!" Marcus barked, wanting to avoid the subject. He could taste her hair. He was swallowing it and it was choking him. Like spider's legs crawling across his face and he was trapped.
"My skin is not as soft as hers… my body not so young… she was a princess, yes, but I am queen." Morgaine kissed him – cracked lips against unwilling ones. "Perhaps you would prefer it if I screamed… press your hands against my mouth, suppress my cries with some sickly kiss – like you did with her when you took her… no?" Morgaine slapped him hard across the face and leapt from him when he let out an angry roar and reached for the knife at his belt only to find it was in Morgaine's hands. "Was I worth the deal?" Morgaine screamed her banshee scream. "Was this life worth it all… love and death – murder and dishonor?"
"Eternity in hell would have been a far fairer punishment," Marcus murmured. "Or perhaps you are the devil himself… an embodiment."
"Then kill me… for as Lucifer cannot die by your hands alone though I may…" Morgaine said in a lingering whisper. She took the knife and held it to her throat. "Come now, husband… take hold of the knife and slit the skin from here… to here. Do whatever it takes… I will not scream."
"You disgust me." Marcus frowned, turning away from the madwoman before him.
"Coward! You kill a king and not his sister… you kill Arthur but not me? For shame, my love, that your hands do whatever else I command of them and yet they cannot kill the master. I want, Marcus… and I will keep waiting. Do you fear me?" Morgaine challenged, sensing his weakness. It was into a passionate weakness for he was truly afraid. His eyes never looked directly into her own. She had never felt his embrace.
"I fear only God," Marcus said sullenly, suddenly sober.
"And I above all else?"
"You do not know my heart!" Marcus shouted bitterly.
"But I read your mind!" Morgaine cried. "You are despicable, Marcus! You are just as much as a contradiction as I! Admit it! God despises you!" Morgaine taunted him relentlessly with her twisted smile and witch's eyes. She snatched the blankets from the bed and flung them onto the floor so he had no cover – the force of it like a harsh wind.
"I say… it is for the good of the people… that this land be ruled by…" he began, stammering.
"Ruled by you?" Morgaine asked. "Do not fool yourself by thinking you rule alone… you are but a puppet… I rule you. Everything I do, I do through you and everything you do, you do because I commanded it. And what we do together is for God… only for God. Through wrong we make all things right. I care not for my own soul… it was lost a long time ago. Do you hear me?" she yelled. Suddenly, her voice faded hoarsely into a strained whisper. "Do you still wish to hear my secret, husband?" she asked. Marcus was silent.