The Long Road Home, Ch. 12
Apologies for the delay - silly RL gets in the way!
Warnings: excess sap and sexual situations
A/N: I have probably spoiled everyone by usually posting two chapters at once, but now that the fic is wrapping up (four chapters to go), I'll likely be posting only one chapter at a time. This is because even though the entire fic is essentially written, the last chapters need a lot of editing. So, just one tonight, but hopefully an enjoyable one. I did research on marriage practices and vows at the time, but for the sake of the story some liberties have been taken. I doubt you'll protest. ;) I know I said "smut" earlier, but this isn't exactly what-goes-where porn, so I hope no one is disappointed. This is about as colorful as my sex scenes get, lol.
Chapter 12
Morgana stared at him, shocked, a rush of exhilaration building slowly in her chest. “Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
He took her hands in his. “Morgana. Even though we are sometimes too stubborn to admit it, you love me, and I love you. So let’s get married. Tonight.” His eyes sparkled, and she felt herself grow weak in the knees.
Why not? It was the one thing she had wanted more than anything. Still, there would be repercussions if they acted so quickly. She bit her lip. “Uther will have us hanged.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Possibly drawn and quartered, though.”
“I’m serious, Arthur.”
“Listen, I know my father - at first he’ll get mad because it wasn’t his idea, but then he’ll get over it. What could he possibly do to us? Nothing can be worse than what we just went through. You already did your duty.”
Thoughts flooded her mind as he squeezed her hands. It was time to make a decision. “So, will you marry me, Morgana? Will you marry me right now?”
It’s time to seize my own future, she thought, and then smiled. “Yes, I will.”
Arthur nearly kissed the breath out of her, then stepped into the chapel. He intercepted the priest and guided him back into the room.
“Will you be leaving soon, Father Cassian?”
The old man shook his head worriedly. “I shall stay have to stay here tonight, and return to the Abbey tomorrow. My old horse needs a rest.”
A knowing look crossed Arthur’s face. “I saw your old gelding tethered outside the stables. What if I can make you an offer? A new palfrey for you; a young horse from one of Camelot’s finest brood mares and our best stallion. If you will marry us.”
Morgana was shocked - the horse was supposed to be part of her dowry to King Tormod - and she had totally forgotten about it.
The priest looked at Arthur, then Morgana, then back to Arthur confusedly. “You two? Well, I suppose I could. A new horse is something I need terribly. But... you’ll need a ring.”
“I have a ring,” she gasped excitedly, pulling her necklace out from under her collar and exposing Igraine’s ring.
From the deep pocket of his robe, the priest revealed a rolled parchment. “Then we just need two witnesses. I have the blank marriage document that I brought with me.”
“Our servants, Gwen and Merlin could do it, or perhaps Kian,” Morgana suggested.
“Servants can’t stand as witnesses,” Father Cassian explained. “Not for a marriage of two people of royal blood.”
“We’ll have to tell Renfrew and Bedwyr then,” Arthur said. “They’ll stand for us.”
But Morgana felt unsure, since the knights were mostly silent, stoic figures she barely knew. “Can we trust them? We’ll need to keep this a secret until we tell Uther. If this gets to him before we can break the news, I fear our consequences will be even worse.”
“I can trust them - they are two of my best knights, and I’ve known them for years.” He smiled at her. “I trust them with my life, so I can certainly trust them with a secret.” Nodding to the priest, he said, “I’ll fetch my men, and be right back.”
Kian returned just as Arthur was leaving. Sensing the excitement in the air, he raised his eyebrow at Morgana. “Adara and Guinevere are packing your things, and they will be loaded into the cart shortly. Is all well, my Lady?”
She couldn’t hold her smile, her joy, and she grasped his arm to pull him closer. “All is wonderful,” she whispered. “Father Cassian is going to marry Arthur and I.”
Kian broke into a lopsided grin, and for a moment Morgana thought he was going to hug her. “Congratulations,” he said, then lowered his voice so the priest couldn’t overhear. “Perhaps my dream was right, then. A happy queen you shall be.”
Her eyes grew misty - he was the one thing she would miss about Gleanntan. “Thank you for everything, Kian. You are a true friend and will always be welcome in Camelot. When Arthur comes back, will you stand guard outside the door and make sure no one comes in?”
“Of course, my Lady.”
Gwen peeked her head into the room, carrying the dress and cape Morgana had requested. It was her green riding gown, nothing fancy, but frankly she didn’t care what she was wearing when she married Arthur. Such a silly thing just didn’t matter.
“May I have a moment of privacy, please?” she asked the priest and Kian, gesturing to her apparel. “I need to change out of this dreadful old thing.”
The men bowed out, and as soon as she was alone with Gwen and peeling the enormous wedding gown off, she nearly bubbled over with the exciting news. “Gwen, Arthur and I are to marry!”
Gwen beamed. “That’s wonderful, my Lady, I had hoped it would happen eventually. Now you’ll just have to convince Uther, and we can begin to plan the wedding-.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Morgana said, kicking off the skirts of the dress and reaching for her more comfortable gown. “We’re getting married here. Now. As soon as Arthur returns with Bedwyr and Renfrew. The priest has agreed to do it.”
Gwen gaped at her mistress, a combination of shock and concern. “Now? Without Uther’s consent?”
“It’s madness, I know. But I already did what I had to, now I am doing what my own heart desires.”
“Well, you and Arthur are made for each other,” Gwen admitted cheerfully, tying the fastenings on Morgana’s back. “I’ve always said you were destined to be his queen. I suppose there is no reason to wait. Still, don’t you worry about what Uther will do?”
“Yes,” Morgana confessed. “But this time, I’m not letting his influence control me.”
When Gwen reopened the door they found Arthur and the two knights, flanked by Merlin and Father Cassian, waiting expectantly.
“Sir Bedwyr and Sir Renfrew have agreed to be our witnesses,” Arthur announced. As if reading Morgana’s mind, he put his arms around her and added softly, “I’ve made them swear not to tell a soul.”
So this was happening. A nervousness crept over her, but a good nervousness. She glanced down at her comfortable yet lackluster gown. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve changed into this ragged thing. I fear it isn’t exactly romantic.”
“I don’t care what you are wearing,” he assured her, then leaned in to whisper in her ear, making her shiver. “I might even like it if you were to wear nothing at all.”
“Later,” she hissed.
The priest cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
Morgana nodded to Kian, and he shut the door behind him, keeping his promise to stand outside on watch. Although Bedwyr and Renfrew were the official witnesses, having Merlin and Gwen there meant the world to Morgana - there was no one she would rather share this moment with. Their smiling faces made it all seem slightly less surreal.
There was a moment of silence when the priest asked if anyone objected to the union which was about to take place. Then he spoke to Arthur: “Wilt though have this woman to thy wedded wife, wilt thee love her, and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Morgana trembled, and Arthur squeezed her hand as he said proudly, “I will.”
The priest turned to her next, repeating the passage, to which she murmured without hesitation, “I will.”
Next came the vows, as they recited promises of fidelity. “I, Arthur, take thee Morgana to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part. Thereto I plight thee my troth.”
“I, Morgana, take thee Arthur to my wedded husband…”. The words slipped from her tongue like music.
As soon as Igraine’s ring was slid onto her finger by Arthur, Morgana was flooded with a great sense of peace. That was where the ring belonged. With Arthur was where she belonged.
~ * ~ * ~
“Sire, you may kiss your bride,” the priest told Arthur at the conclusion of the ceremony, and it felt like he was in a dream. He was lost in the moment, but Morgana shocked everyone by reaching out to take Arthur’s chin in her hand, and pressing her lips to his in a forceful display. It would have been nice if the kiss had lasted longer, but he supposed it wasn’t proper in such company. He quivered inside, wondering if it would be too bold to ask everyone to excuse them, so he could just have his wife right here on the table.
“You do realize this is forever, don’t you?” she asked him as they pulled apart.
Arthur nodded, grimacing. “Heaven help me,” he said as he gazed upward, a reply which earned him a sharp jab in the ribs.
They were both in a blissful daze as they prepared to leave Gleanntan. Everyone around them - still shocked and devastated over the loss of their king - was totally unaware of what had transpired. Out of respect for a kingdom in mourning, and the desire to avoid any controversy, they hid their joy the best they could. Morgana’s sleeve conveniently concealed the ring on her left hand.
In the courtyard, the horses and cart were ready and waiting. As Arthur helped Morgana mount up, Kian approached them to say farewell. Arthur noticed tears at the corners of Morgana’s eyes as she spoke with him.
“Farewell, Kian,” she said, touching the young man’s shoulder. “I shall miss you dearly, and I’ll never forget your kindness.”
“I beg you, don’t be sad, my Lady. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday,” he called as the party rode off into the fading light. “And by then I’ll be calling you Queen Morgana.”
--
They only rode for an hour before deciding to set up camp, as night had fallen quickly. By this time, Arthur was positively trembling with anticipation. As tents were set up and the camp fire started, he and Morgana occasionally caught each other’s eye. What they had both wanted for so long was about to come to fruition. He tried to focus on something else - anything else - but it was taking every bit of willpower be possessed not to drag her to his tent immediately.
He was double-checking the horses’ tethers when Merlin approached him, smiling wickedly. “I suppose I’ll be sleeping in the cart again tonight?”
Arthur rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “It’s my wedding night, Merlin. No offense, but I’d rather not spend it with you.”
“I’m happy for both of you, you know,” Merlin said, dodging the punch that was aimed toward his shoulder.
“Just make yourself scarce, would you?” Arthur grinned.
~ * ~ * ~
In their tent, Gwen was helping Morgana change out of her dress. Pulling out the new, crisp white nightgown, she held it out for Morgana, who shook her head. “I’ll just wear my cloak,” she shrugged, reaching for it instead.
Gwen looked scandalized. “My Lady! Just your cloak - with nothing underneath?”
“Don’t be silly, Guinevere, I won’t be needing any clothing,” she smirked, as her maid’s face turned red.
Turning away, Morgana swallowed a pinch of the powder Gaius had given her. The time was not right for conceiving a child just yet - not when their future was still uncertain. She bid Gwen goodnight and stepped outside, shivering from either her bare feet in the cold grass, or anticipation of what was to come.
Everyone else had gone to bed, but Arthur was standing outside his tent, his face illuminated by the dying campfire. He bowed in a most ridiculous and overly-formal manner, and gestured to his tent. “After you, my Lady.”
But Morgana had other plans. “It’s not enough privacy,” she explained, handing him several blankets. “I’m not keen on having four other people sharing our wedding night.” Taking his free hand in hers, she lead him down the slope away from camp. By the riverside, she announced, “Our marriage bed shall be this very ground. ”
Apparently his desire for her was so strong that Arthur’s usual finicky tastes went by the wayside. “I don’t care where it is, it could be on the back of my horse for all I care-.”
“Hush.” She pressed her finger to his lips. “Stop talking, Arthur.” This was something sacred that needed to be savored, a sort of mutual worship. She combed her fingers through his hair, nuzzling him. He pulled her into a heated kiss, one that spoke more than their words ever could - it conveyed passion and lust and a bond that could never be broken. This was the only way, she realized, to express the emotions of the long journey they had endured together.
He growled low in his throat, trying to kiss her with even more force, but she pulled back a little. “I don’t want to rush this.”
They spread the blankets on the ground, and she pulled him down next to her. His shirt and breeches were gone in an instant, and Arthur grinned in delight when he removed her cloak and discovered that no further barrier existed between his fingers and her skin.
Under the starry sky, they traced and explored each other’s bodies, curves illuminated by the full moon. Once again Morgana felt so close to the earth. This was raw and primal, they were creatures of nature doing what came instinctively, doing what they needed as much air. The rush of the river masked their own sounds. There was nothing in between them, just skin gliding upon skin. There was pain, beautiful pain, coupled with pleasure and a sense of power. In all her years of knowing Arthur, she had never seen him this vulnerable and utterly at her mercy. She discovered where and how to touch him to make him sigh, to make him gasp with delightful torment, as a range of expressions crossed his face, leaving her fascinated and even a bit smug. Likewise, his rough palms caressed and teased, causing her to teeter on the edge of oblivion. Priests and rings and vows were mere formality, this truly joined her with Arthur. She might think it was all a dream, except her dreams were never this wonderful.
Afterward, lying breathless and sore, Morgana felt - deep in her bones - a contentment she had never, ever known.
Chapter 13 here: http://a-boleyn1230.livejournal.com/140013.html
Warnings: excess sap and sexual situations
A/N: I have probably spoiled everyone by usually posting two chapters at once, but now that the fic is wrapping up (four chapters to go), I'll likely be posting only one chapter at a time. This is because even though the entire fic is essentially written, the last chapters need a lot of editing. So, just one tonight, but hopefully an enjoyable one. I did research on marriage practices and vows at the time, but for the sake of the story some liberties have been taken. I doubt you'll protest. ;) I know I said "smut" earlier, but this isn't exactly what-goes-where porn, so I hope no one is disappointed. This is about as colorful as my sex scenes get, lol.
Chapter 12
Morgana stared at him, shocked, a rush of exhilaration building slowly in her chest. “Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
He took her hands in his. “Morgana. Even though we are sometimes too stubborn to admit it, you love me, and I love you. So let’s get married. Tonight.” His eyes sparkled, and she felt herself grow weak in the knees.
Why not? It was the one thing she had wanted more than anything. Still, there would be repercussions if they acted so quickly. She bit her lip. “Uther will have us hanged.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Possibly drawn and quartered, though.”
“I’m serious, Arthur.”
“Listen, I know my father - at first he’ll get mad because it wasn’t his idea, but then he’ll get over it. What could he possibly do to us? Nothing can be worse than what we just went through. You already did your duty.”
Thoughts flooded her mind as he squeezed her hands. It was time to make a decision. “So, will you marry me, Morgana? Will you marry me right now?”
It’s time to seize my own future, she thought, and then smiled. “Yes, I will.”
Arthur nearly kissed the breath out of her, then stepped into the chapel. He intercepted the priest and guided him back into the room.
“Will you be leaving soon, Father Cassian?”
The old man shook his head worriedly. “I shall stay have to stay here tonight, and return to the Abbey tomorrow. My old horse needs a rest.”
A knowing look crossed Arthur’s face. “I saw your old gelding tethered outside the stables. What if I can make you an offer? A new palfrey for you; a young horse from one of Camelot’s finest brood mares and our best stallion. If you will marry us.”
Morgana was shocked - the horse was supposed to be part of her dowry to King Tormod - and she had totally forgotten about it.
The priest looked at Arthur, then Morgana, then back to Arthur confusedly. “You two? Well, I suppose I could. A new horse is something I need terribly. But... you’ll need a ring.”
“I have a ring,” she gasped excitedly, pulling her necklace out from under her collar and exposing Igraine’s ring.
From the deep pocket of his robe, the priest revealed a rolled parchment. “Then we just need two witnesses. I have the blank marriage document that I brought with me.”
“Our servants, Gwen and Merlin could do it, or perhaps Kian,” Morgana suggested.
“Servants can’t stand as witnesses,” Father Cassian explained. “Not for a marriage of two people of royal blood.”
“We’ll have to tell Renfrew and Bedwyr then,” Arthur said. “They’ll stand for us.”
But Morgana felt unsure, since the knights were mostly silent, stoic figures she barely knew. “Can we trust them? We’ll need to keep this a secret until we tell Uther. If this gets to him before we can break the news, I fear our consequences will be even worse.”
“I can trust them - they are two of my best knights, and I’ve known them for years.” He smiled at her. “I trust them with my life, so I can certainly trust them with a secret.” Nodding to the priest, he said, “I’ll fetch my men, and be right back.”
Kian returned just as Arthur was leaving. Sensing the excitement in the air, he raised his eyebrow at Morgana. “Adara and Guinevere are packing your things, and they will be loaded into the cart shortly. Is all well, my Lady?”
She couldn’t hold her smile, her joy, and she grasped his arm to pull him closer. “All is wonderful,” she whispered. “Father Cassian is going to marry Arthur and I.”
Kian broke into a lopsided grin, and for a moment Morgana thought he was going to hug her. “Congratulations,” he said, then lowered his voice so the priest couldn’t overhear. “Perhaps my dream was right, then. A happy queen you shall be.”
Her eyes grew misty - he was the one thing she would miss about Gleanntan. “Thank you for everything, Kian. You are a true friend and will always be welcome in Camelot. When Arthur comes back, will you stand guard outside the door and make sure no one comes in?”
“Of course, my Lady.”
Gwen peeked her head into the room, carrying the dress and cape Morgana had requested. It was her green riding gown, nothing fancy, but frankly she didn’t care what she was wearing when she married Arthur. Such a silly thing just didn’t matter.
“May I have a moment of privacy, please?” she asked the priest and Kian, gesturing to her apparel. “I need to change out of this dreadful old thing.”
The men bowed out, and as soon as she was alone with Gwen and peeling the enormous wedding gown off, she nearly bubbled over with the exciting news. “Gwen, Arthur and I are to marry!”
Gwen beamed. “That’s wonderful, my Lady, I had hoped it would happen eventually. Now you’ll just have to convince Uther, and we can begin to plan the wedding-.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Morgana said, kicking off the skirts of the dress and reaching for her more comfortable gown. “We’re getting married here. Now. As soon as Arthur returns with Bedwyr and Renfrew. The priest has agreed to do it.”
Gwen gaped at her mistress, a combination of shock and concern. “Now? Without Uther’s consent?”
“It’s madness, I know. But I already did what I had to, now I am doing what my own heart desires.”
“Well, you and Arthur are made for each other,” Gwen admitted cheerfully, tying the fastenings on Morgana’s back. “I’ve always said you were destined to be his queen. I suppose there is no reason to wait. Still, don’t you worry about what Uther will do?”
“Yes,” Morgana confessed. “But this time, I’m not letting his influence control me.”
When Gwen reopened the door they found Arthur and the two knights, flanked by Merlin and Father Cassian, waiting expectantly.
“Sir Bedwyr and Sir Renfrew have agreed to be our witnesses,” Arthur announced. As if reading Morgana’s mind, he put his arms around her and added softly, “I’ve made them swear not to tell a soul.”
So this was happening. A nervousness crept over her, but a good nervousness. She glanced down at her comfortable yet lackluster gown. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve changed into this ragged thing. I fear it isn’t exactly romantic.”
“I don’t care what you are wearing,” he assured her, then leaned in to whisper in her ear, making her shiver. “I might even like it if you were to wear nothing at all.”
“Later,” she hissed.
The priest cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
Morgana nodded to Kian, and he shut the door behind him, keeping his promise to stand outside on watch. Although Bedwyr and Renfrew were the official witnesses, having Merlin and Gwen there meant the world to Morgana - there was no one she would rather share this moment with. Their smiling faces made it all seem slightly less surreal.
There was a moment of silence when the priest asked if anyone objected to the union which was about to take place. Then he spoke to Arthur: “Wilt though have this woman to thy wedded wife, wilt thee love her, and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Morgana trembled, and Arthur squeezed her hand as he said proudly, “I will.”
The priest turned to her next, repeating the passage, to which she murmured without hesitation, “I will.”
Next came the vows, as they recited promises of fidelity. “I, Arthur, take thee Morgana to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part. Thereto I plight thee my troth.”
“I, Morgana, take thee Arthur to my wedded husband…”. The words slipped from her tongue like music.
As soon as Igraine’s ring was slid onto her finger by Arthur, Morgana was flooded with a great sense of peace. That was where the ring belonged. With Arthur was where she belonged.
~ * ~ * ~
“Sire, you may kiss your bride,” the priest told Arthur at the conclusion of the ceremony, and it felt like he was in a dream. He was lost in the moment, but Morgana shocked everyone by reaching out to take Arthur’s chin in her hand, and pressing her lips to his in a forceful display. It would have been nice if the kiss had lasted longer, but he supposed it wasn’t proper in such company. He quivered inside, wondering if it would be too bold to ask everyone to excuse them, so he could just have his wife right here on the table.
“You do realize this is forever, don’t you?” she asked him as they pulled apart.
Arthur nodded, grimacing. “Heaven help me,” he said as he gazed upward, a reply which earned him a sharp jab in the ribs.
They were both in a blissful daze as they prepared to leave Gleanntan. Everyone around them - still shocked and devastated over the loss of their king - was totally unaware of what had transpired. Out of respect for a kingdom in mourning, and the desire to avoid any controversy, they hid their joy the best they could. Morgana’s sleeve conveniently concealed the ring on her left hand.
In the courtyard, the horses and cart were ready and waiting. As Arthur helped Morgana mount up, Kian approached them to say farewell. Arthur noticed tears at the corners of Morgana’s eyes as she spoke with him.
“Farewell, Kian,” she said, touching the young man’s shoulder. “I shall miss you dearly, and I’ll never forget your kindness.”
“I beg you, don’t be sad, my Lady. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday,” he called as the party rode off into the fading light. “And by then I’ll be calling you Queen Morgana.”
--
They only rode for an hour before deciding to set up camp, as night had fallen quickly. By this time, Arthur was positively trembling with anticipation. As tents were set up and the camp fire started, he and Morgana occasionally caught each other’s eye. What they had both wanted for so long was about to come to fruition. He tried to focus on something else - anything else - but it was taking every bit of willpower be possessed not to drag her to his tent immediately.
He was double-checking the horses’ tethers when Merlin approached him, smiling wickedly. “I suppose I’ll be sleeping in the cart again tonight?”
Arthur rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “It’s my wedding night, Merlin. No offense, but I’d rather not spend it with you.”
“I’m happy for both of you, you know,” Merlin said, dodging the punch that was aimed toward his shoulder.
“Just make yourself scarce, would you?” Arthur grinned.
~ * ~ * ~
In their tent, Gwen was helping Morgana change out of her dress. Pulling out the new, crisp white nightgown, she held it out for Morgana, who shook her head. “I’ll just wear my cloak,” she shrugged, reaching for it instead.
Gwen looked scandalized. “My Lady! Just your cloak - with nothing underneath?”
“Don’t be silly, Guinevere, I won’t be needing any clothing,” she smirked, as her maid’s face turned red.
Turning away, Morgana swallowed a pinch of the powder Gaius had given her. The time was not right for conceiving a child just yet - not when their future was still uncertain. She bid Gwen goodnight and stepped outside, shivering from either her bare feet in the cold grass, or anticipation of what was to come.
Everyone else had gone to bed, but Arthur was standing outside his tent, his face illuminated by the dying campfire. He bowed in a most ridiculous and overly-formal manner, and gestured to his tent. “After you, my Lady.”
But Morgana had other plans. “It’s not enough privacy,” she explained, handing him several blankets. “I’m not keen on having four other people sharing our wedding night.” Taking his free hand in hers, she lead him down the slope away from camp. By the riverside, she announced, “Our marriage bed shall be this very ground. ”
Apparently his desire for her was so strong that Arthur’s usual finicky tastes went by the wayside. “I don’t care where it is, it could be on the back of my horse for all I care-.”
“Hush.” She pressed her finger to his lips. “Stop talking, Arthur.” This was something sacred that needed to be savored, a sort of mutual worship. She combed her fingers through his hair, nuzzling him. He pulled her into a heated kiss, one that spoke more than their words ever could - it conveyed passion and lust and a bond that could never be broken. This was the only way, she realized, to express the emotions of the long journey they had endured together.
He growled low in his throat, trying to kiss her with even more force, but she pulled back a little. “I don’t want to rush this.”
They spread the blankets on the ground, and she pulled him down next to her. His shirt and breeches were gone in an instant, and Arthur grinned in delight when he removed her cloak and discovered that no further barrier existed between his fingers and her skin.
Under the starry sky, they traced and explored each other’s bodies, curves illuminated by the full moon. Once again Morgana felt so close to the earth. This was raw and primal, they were creatures of nature doing what came instinctively, doing what they needed as much air. The rush of the river masked their own sounds. There was nothing in between them, just skin gliding upon skin. There was pain, beautiful pain, coupled with pleasure and a sense of power. In all her years of knowing Arthur, she had never seen him this vulnerable and utterly at her mercy. She discovered where and how to touch him to make him sigh, to make him gasp with delightful torment, as a range of expressions crossed his face, leaving her fascinated and even a bit smug. Likewise, his rough palms caressed and teased, causing her to teeter on the edge of oblivion. Priests and rings and vows were mere formality, this truly joined her with Arthur. She might think it was all a dream, except her dreams were never this wonderful.
Afterward, lying breathless and sore, Morgana felt - deep in her bones - a contentment she had never, ever known.
Chapter 13 here: http://a-boleyn1230.livejournal.com/140013.html