[1132]
They face each other, kneeling on the ground. There's nothing to see but a sea of dead men and air filled with black smoke, still they see nothing but each other.
Hate is bleeding from their wounds, along with all their fears.
Arthur reaches out to her trembling hand holding the knife. He takes her wrist and pulls her to him. Morgana's breath hits his mouth and he searches her eyes. Her cheek is red with his blood "It wasn't supposed to be like this" she says, like she only now realized this wasn't one of the games they played during their childhood.
"It was supposed to be you and me. And it was, after all"
Her knife falls from her hand and he looks at her like this moment is theirs. If they ever had anything, this moment was it.
She caresses his face and he closes his eyes against her soft palm. "We are the lucky ones" she says, bitterly.
Arthur opens his blue eyes "I would have given my life to you, anyway" he admits, his voice low and weak.
He bows to kiss her hand and then falls on his stomach. Morgana's hand is in his hair, her nose against his cheekbone, her hair falls above him shielding them both.
"Grant me my dying wish, my Lady"
"Ask"
"Love me"
She smiles and a tear escapes the cage of her black lashes, touching his lower lip during its fall. He can taste her in his mouth; swallows her so she can be buried deep inside of him, so his body can become her temple.
Morgana bends over him. They are cheek to cheek, and she speaks against his ear "I love you" she says slowly "Time will eradicate everything there is, yet my love will stay; and when your soul will call out to mine, nothing will keep me from answering back"
She lies down next to him, caressing his face.
He is gone. But he is waiting for her.
[1348]
They meet for the first time on their wedding day. And they can't be more annoyed with each other.
Morgana only agreed to the wedding because her uncle Gaius is broken, and the Pendragons are very rich.
Arthur only agreed because he was sure having a wife would have made him more independent in the eyes of his father and he would let him free to strike his deals.
Their house is one of the most beautiful buildings in Madeira. Yet it is not big enough to let them avoid each other forever.
They sleep in the same bed, and he moves in his sleep. And she kicks him anytime he accidentally brushes her.
He generally ignores her, but on the days she dares to be particularly beautiful he scolds her for whatever reason he can find.
They are stuck with each other for the rest of their lives, and even if they should work to make the best of it they just suppose they have enough time to waste a few months to measure up their wills. But they don't kill each other.
He always keeps his back on her when she gets dressed for the day, and he gives her the time to slip under the covers at night.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this" he says one night, while she keeps her eyes on the ceiling - to avoid his bare chest as usual.
Morgana is about to say something sarcastic but she sees his eyes, and she only answer "I can't remember how it was supposed to be"
It's like she knows this moment far better then she can realize right now.
"I will leave in a week" he says, lying in the dark next to her "Will you be alright?" he asks.
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself" she says, and maybe it was supposed to sound bitter but it doesn't, at all.
"It's not really what I was asking"
"What were you asking then?"
"I guess I don't want you to feel lonely" he admits.
"Will you be away for long?" she asks, calmly.
"I could be away for months, if you want me to." he answers "Or I could be back in six weeks, if you want me to"
"Then I won't be lonely for long"
"Good" it's like someone lifted a weight from his chest. He didn't even know it was there.
"Good"
Now they even talk when they sit together at the dinner table. He takes her out to walk, and she makes sure he's not disturbed in the evenings so he can relax in front of the fire.
"Are you in bed?" he asks after awhile. His back turned to her.
"Do you bed other women?"
"What?" he turns around and finds her in her nightgown. He can guess her skin through the fabric and he turns his eyes with a 'damn Morgana'.
"It's quite humiliating, you know, and despite what men may think, women cannot accept it. So, do you bed other women?"
"I have no affair nor fling at the moment. I have been busy with commercial deals, and despite what women may think, men have far more important things to accomplish then bedding a woman" he says looking her straight in the eyes, to see if she believed his lies. He did not have any affair lately, but he's been thinking about it, and if it wasn't for her smell constantly on him he would have won his scruples.
"Do you plan on having one?" she asks again.
He's about to say no, but he can't. He can be married, but he's not a saint, and he has to share a bed with his wife every night and yet he never touched her.
"I mean no disrespect to you, Morgana. But at some point I will need a woman"
She nods "I know" she says "And I am a woman"
He looks at her in disbelief and says nothing.
"If I am of your liking" she adds.
He's still saying nothing and it's getting embarrassing, until he snaps out of his state "You are" he says "Of course, you are"
They make love that night. And he leaves the day after.
He writes to her every day when he is aboard. He tells her that he loves her, that he is happy she agreed to marry him; that he wants to make her fall in love with him too. That he is dying because the black death spread to the Mediterranean and reached his ship.
She writes him that she loves him too, and she hopes her words will reach him before it's too late.
[1491]
"You can't keep your eyes off her" Leon says giving a light slap to his shoulder. Arthur turns to him, and the man continues looking in the direction his eyes were pointing to just a few seconds before.
"Guinevere is a lovely girl. I bet you can't wait to marry her"
"I am transparent" Arthur says, faking a smile.
Guinevere is talking to Morgana, and he swallows his drink at once.
There's a toast to the second born of Edward VI Tudor - Henry VIII, Prince of Galles, Duke of Cornwall – and then the dances are opened.
Arthur can't be too eager to dance with her so he claims her third dance. He can touch her hand, smell her perfume when she walks around him, drink in her grace when she turns and opens her arms.
Ladies leave first, while the men stays behind to congratulate the King again for having a second male heir. They toast to a life of greatness and he drinks enough to free his cold eyes from the chains of gallantry and stare at Leon with loathe. The man can't really see that because he is already drunk, and passed out. Merlin helps him carry him to the carriage and then they dump him on the bed in his chambers.
"You brother in law can't hold his liquor, and I can't hold him up anymore" says his friend, looking at Leon.
They usually end up in some woman's bed without having any recognition of the night when they drink too much; this time they are barely tipsy, while Leon sleeps very soundly.
"I wouldn't have protested if you had accidently hit his head while we were carrying him"
"You should have said that before" he replies, disappointed "Now let's go"
Merlin moves but when they reach the hallway Arthur stops and stays behind.
"So?" his friend asks turning to him.
"You go ahead" he says, and he can see a strange light in his eyes. Merlin looks at him searching his face, and then his voice rises "You are not thinking to-" he can't really finish his sentence. He knows him well enough to know that he will do it. That he wants to do it. Merlin fears he will lose his sanity if he does, but he fears he will lose it if he doesn't, too, so he just says "Good night" and leaves him there.
Her chambers are dark, but for the light of one single candle. He slips inside the bedroom and blows out the little flame.
He reaches the bed, and moves his hands carefully to touch her face. His hands cup her cheeks and he can feel her tense body being very still. She can probably smell liquor.
When he kisses her he has to force her to open her mouth, but he can feel her responding to the kiss slowly; almost like he's melting the ice around her, vanquishing her doubts.
She lies back on the bed, and he follows her, thanking God when she moans under his caress on her breast but doesn't say her husband's name.
He knows he shouldn't indulge too much in this. In her. Yet he can't deny himself. He wants to have all of her, and so he touches, and caresses and kisses and licks and drinks and eats of her.
She's heavenly to be inside, animalistic to be behind, addictive to taste. He guides, she follows, in perfect synchrony. And she only moans ah and yes and again, please more.
He dies a little inside of her. He dies more when she says I love you. He dies again when he has to leave before dawn.
He marries Guinevere. And Morgana is there, next to Leon, to congratulate him.
"I wish you happiness and joy, Arthur"
Arthur kisses her cheek, feeling the velvet of her skin against his lips, again.
His eyes won't be silent anymore, and they say I love you. And looking at her he knows that she knows. She knew it all along.
"Thank you, sister"
[1570]
He is a soldier, and all the mercy he can show her is to kill her fast, but she's weak, passed out in a corner of an old church and even if it always feels like God is very far away, right now he knows He's watching.
Arthur kneels next to her and feels her forehead. She has fever but she wakes up and tries to fight him.
"I won't harm you" he says holding her wrists "Calm down" he says again, when she tries to kick him.
He ends up lying on her, crushing her to the ground.
"Please, stop!" he's very near to her face, and she looks up at him with big eyes and falls silent.
There's a noise and he covers her mouth with his hand. They both remain still. He pushes her into a corner and then yells "There's no one here!"
He puts his index on his lips and leaves a few pieces of bread on a bench.
"Okay, let's go then!" says Gawain's voice at the entrance of the church, leaving.
"Why are you helping me?" she asks. Her beautiful face half covered by the shadows made by the feel, half-consumed candles.
He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know the answer.
"What's your name?" he asks, instead.
"Morgana"
"Morgana" he repeats, amazed "I want to meet you again, Morgana"
"Novgorod is being destroyed. You are a soldier of the army of Ivan the Terrible and I could be dead any minute now, and you are courting me?" she sounds almost offended.
"I am not courting you" he defends himself.
"So you just think that I will give myself to you out of gratitude?" she raises her voice, angry.
"I did not mean-"
"If you believe that I'd do that you are a fool and I'd rather die!"
"Calm down!"
He was armed, and she was ill. Yet he felt like the one in danger.
"I am only saying that I hope that you'll be well and that we'll meet again, so I can get to understand why the hell it is so important to me that you live, because somehow I know that I will be thinking of you for as long as I shall live"
She's silently taking in his words, and deciding what to do of them.
"What's your name?" she asks.
"Arthur"
"Arthur" she repeats, smiling softly "I want to meet you again"
But she knows that it won't happen. Not in this life.
[1692]
Arthur closes his fists to his sides, watching her. She is annoyingly beautiful, with her bright eyes and her always oh so red lips, but he will be damned if he admits it. Everyone in town is already in love with her, and he doesn't wants to be one of the many.
"It is very inappropriate" he scolds her looking at the hand she was keeping in the pocket of her dress.
"It's a letter, not a rabid dog" she says "You are only jealous"
"Of a man that has evidently no taste in women?" he replied, outraged.
"Of the fact that that man that has no taste in women knows how to hold a pen and write" she answer, smiling like she knows the truth "Of course I would never imply that you have any interest over me, Arthur. I know you are very eager to marry your beloved Gwen" and her smile is like a knife cutting into him "And I have no doubt that you spend no sleepless night thinking about me" she laughs and walks past him, turning to add "But I can tell, you will"
And he does.
Just like he did before.
Shame and decency can't win against her. On Sundays he prays God to keep her out of his mind. He prays to love Gwen with half the passion that boils into his veins when he hears her name.
He tries to scratch her from his skin every time he takes a bath. She's somewhere deeper than that.
He becomes more annoyed with her. With her effect on him.
He stops replying when she makes fun of him. They are in the stables, she bites him with words, again and again and again, and he just stands there. Then he kisses her. And even if he knows that he really needs to stop, he doesn't. And she won't let him.
He opens her dress on the back and forces the material down her shoulders. She's white and creamy and beautiful, and he touches her breast with nervous, strong hands.
"I can never stop thinking about you" he admits holding her waist so tightly that he will leave bruises.
"You are stuck into my mind" he says bringing her down to sit on his lap.
"You consume me" he says against her chest; looking her in the eyes while he takes the virtue she is offering him.
"All day long" he thrust up into her "All the time" again " I want you…" and again "I want you" and again "and I can't stop"
To his every sentence and every trust, she only says "I know"
What she doesn't know is that Gwen sees them.
She sees them and she can't admit to herself that Arthur never desired her; that his clumsy hands on her clothed body were held back by half-hearted feelings rather then respect. So Morgana must have enchanted him, she must be a witch. She must. And any jealous woman of Salem thinks so, and any rejected man of Salem thinks so too.
And she feels a little bit guilty, only when the smell of burned flesh reaches her nose. But she cannot be held responsible for Morgana's wrong doings.
Arthur goes crazy. Three men hold him still but he screams and fights and when he escapes he launches himself in the flames. They drag him out, not before her life is burned on his skin forever. Still, she's somewhere deeper than that.
His body is the perpetual token of her existence.
And she consumes him 'til he dies.
[1714]
Her heart is heavy as she turns to look around her, to all those men severely wounded. Morgana has been on her feet for hours now and it's her turn to rest, yet she cannot bring herself to move.
Almansa is one constant lament of desperate souls. She wants to help, to be useful, but it's not what keeps her there now.
She scans the men lying all around her in the tent, feeling like she's looking for someone. She is clearly overtired herself, and she's about to move on when she sees him.
Blond hair, eyes closed, tired face yet handsome in a way that would unnerve her and make her feel like she's being trapped into a corner if it wasn't for the blood stained on his bandage. Her feet move before her mind can give the order to her body.
She would say his name but she doesn't know it. There's this sharp pain bordering with fondness in the pit of her stomach, like she has been looking for him for a long time, but she has never seen him before, or she would surely remember.
Morgana holds the hand lying on his side and his eyes flutter open. He points them on her, and they are intensely blue.
"Do I know you?" he asks, weakly.
She shakes her head "No, you don't" but she is not sure if that's the truth. And maybe he is not sure either because he looks at her for a long time and then there's the ghost of a smile on his lips and a peaceful light somewhere in that endless blue.
"From the moment they brought me here I've been praying" he says, looking at her "One moment to get well and survive all this, the one after I was praying to die fast and go in peace" he explains, stopping to take a breath because he feels like his voice can fail him "Now I know that I was just praying for you"
And she nods like she understands, and she smiles and a tear escape the cage of her black lashes, touching his lower lip during its fall. He can taste her in his mouth.
Morgana sits next to him on the old, tiny bed and then leys down next to him. Her hand still in his.
She can see the last rise of his chest through her blurred vision. And then he is gone.
[1880]
They must travel all together. Arthur accompanies his father who's been called to Egypt by the visir Khedivè Ismà'il to reform the court system. She's is the young, fourth wife of a rich spices dealer and every time she looks at him he feels like he's dying to tell her something stupid. Call her my soul, my love.
They can't sit together, nor can they talk. It's the local custom.
But he whispers to her all the same, every time they are near and no one can hear. Arthur doesn't even know if she can understand his language, but he needs to say those things to her.
"I bless the day my father has been called here, for I have met you" he says one day.
"If only I could have your hand in mine for just one moment I could possess the world" he says on another day.
"If God had any mercy on me he would make this love kill me now, because I'm dying to have you"
She never says anything back, but her look is pure velvet and he feels like she burns him. Sometimes words fail him and he begs "Morgana", and it's like he's making love to her name and he knows she understands that.
They travel to Alessandria together for three months. She claims his soul the first time their eyes meet. He claims her flesh on the last week together.
They steal away precious minutes to be together. When he penetrates her he murmurs something stupid. Calls her my soul, my love. She guides his hands on her body, moaning against his lips. She bites his shoulder and digs her nails into his back. She never says a word.
"I will find a way" he whispers to her on the day they must separate hoping she will understand. That she will believe him.
"I will never love anyone else" he promises.
There's no solution but to take her away from her husband using force, he knows. And he will, he decides. When he reaches the city the street in front of the mosque is still crowded after the public execution.
Morgana, found with child, is been lapidated for committing zinà.
Her last words passed from scandalized mouth to scandalized mouth.
"We were the lucky ones"
[2011]
The lights blind him and he ends up laying on the ground, in the middle of the empty street.
He feels pain in his shoulder but he can swear there's nothing broken. Someone is talking to him and he turns his eyes to see her kneeling next to him.
"Are you alright?" she asks, and he recognizes her. She's from his English literature class. All the guys stare at her, drool after her, and leave her flowers and chocolate between her notes.
She just ignores them and throws them all away.
Of course, just because she's stunningly beautiful she thinks she can treat them all like dirt. But he won't fall for her clear eyes, nor for that aura of unawareness about her. He won't.
"You mean aside from the fact that you almost killed me?" he asks.
"I see that I didn't" she says "Next time I'll do better"
He's about to get up but the pain keeps him sitting on the street and he can taste blood on his lips.
"Don't move" she says, her voice soft and worried and he looks at her mesmerized as she uses her napkin to clean the cut on in lower lip "I didn't' see you, I am really sorry"
"It's okay" he replies "I'm sorry too, I've been rude"
"I almost killed you" she reminds him, gently.
"Yeah, but you didn't" he admits, smiling "You can do better next time, through"
She laughs, and he loves the sound instantly.
"Are you flirting with me?" she asks, looking at him from behind her glasses.
"I don't know. Maybe" but then he remembers the flowers and chocolates in the garbage "Or maybe I have a concussion"
"Should I take you to the hospital?" she asks.
"Are you asking me out?" he asks back. She laughs again. Every seconds passing she's growing more and more on him. So much so that he fears he will lose his heart to her before he can even get up from there.
"I think we got ourselves stuck, here"
"Yes, we did" he concedes.
She looks at him, unsure.
"I know you" she says, almost accusingly.
"Do you?" he asks, confused.
"You are in my English literature class. You've bedded half the girls of the class. You get easily bored" she stands and turns to leave, and when he reaches to stop her he falls back on the ground with an ouch.
"Are you alright?" she asks rushing to his side. He holds her wrist to keep her next to him.
"I think you really like me" he says.
"Arthur, you are intolerable!" she accuses him, outraged, trying to get free from his hold.
"And you are an impossible woman, Morgana!"
And suddenly there's something there. He can feel it in the air, on his skin, and deeper than that.
His hand around her wrist becomes weak but she doesn't move.
"Maybe I really have a concussion" he says, because what he feels for her is so strong to be unreal.
"What day is it?" she asks, to check his conditions.
"Monday, May 23, 2011"
"Your brain seems fine" she reassures him "aside from its natural inability" she adds with an ironic smile.
"Sweet" he replies, sarcastically. Still there's a smile somewhere in his eyes.
"It's not supposed to be like this" it's a weak protest, and she doesn't really know what she means.
"You are right" he agrees, nodding and looking away "We could kill each other" he admits.
"I can already smell blood" she says.
They both want to take it back. Instead she silently helps him up, and he thinks he was right. He lost his heart to her long before that moment.
Her arms are around him and when he is standing he doesn't take his away from her either.
"You know, there is tragedy written all over this" he says "Yet, I can't bring myself to care"
"You are courting your death" she warns him. Hoping inside that he will not listen to her.
"The grant me my dying wish, my Lady"
"Ask" she says. Her voice barely a whisper.
But he doesn't say anything.
He just kisses her.
It doesn't matter what happens now, because it feels like it's just the way it was always supposed to be. Always.