The Dark Chronicles Ch. 04

"Morgayne, is it you, dear sister?" Artur called to her as he rode. She stopped, and turned to him, the hem of her cloak and the veil of her hair swirling as she turned. The horse reared its head high, the whites of its eyes rolling back.

"Artur..." Her voice was low, "Did you think it not?" Morgayne reached her hand up to the horse's head with a strange, hypnotic movement, and the beast was calmed, its previous fear gone in an instant.

"I did not think at all, sister. What is it you do here?" Artur looked down at her, puzzled by her presence in this place. "Why do you not come to Camlann? You are the king's sister, and welcome there."

"Not so, Artur. There are those who doubt me." She looked at her brother intensely. "And I them."

"Ah, Morgayne, I know it so and fear it." He dismounted from the horse and moved towards her. "But I don't understand it. The Maerlyn is a good man."

Morgayne stayed her look on her brother's eyes, and the fingers of one hand opened slowly and spread, her fingers opening wide and then closing in like a claw gripping some invisible thing. Her eyes widened black, and any other man would have stepped back. "He is filth, Artur, he is not worthy of me and runs to his white whore." Her voice was near a whisper, its malevolence made worse by her quietness. "You are their play thing, cursed by their games.

"But you are my brother too, and we ran together and you took my hand, and I pulled you along. Gayne, Gayne, is that you, where have you gone? You'd cry out my name and chase after me and I'd hide, and all I wanted was you my brother to play with and love." Morgayne's voice cracked like her heart. "But they took you from me, and I hated them. Maerlyn and your father and the monster in white, they took you from me and I hated them for it."

Her passion ached and tore at Artur's throat, and all the time Morgayne's voice was soft and low, her hatred a whisper blown away by the wind, but fierce, so utterly fierce. Any other man would have been afraid, but Artur was her brother and did not fear her.

His own ache was without words. Artur opened his arms and stepped forward to embrace his sister. Morgayne went to him. His arms went around her back and he held her close, and she was his sister and her hands were slow. She splayed her fingers over his heart, pressing like a cat does before it turns to sleep.

"Ah, Morgayne, it is not right that you dwell in hiding, deep in this valley with your solitary hut. Do you not beg for comforts?"

"Comforts, my Lord? I do not lack for any. Come look." Morgayne caressed the hair on the back of Artur's head, her long fingers running through the wind knotted tangle of his hair. She turned away from him and walked to the door of the hut. It was curiously carved with spirals and circles, ancient patterns made in new wood. In the centre of the door, blazoned as warning and a curse, was the long oval slit of a danu na gig, freshly carved.

Artur saw it, and the hot image of his sister's cunt above him, Morgayne crouching on the rock on his celebrant day, raced through his mind. He felt a tightening deep in his gut, and she turned her head as if she felt it too. Her fingers spread, long and pale.

"Care for your horse, Artur. There is a shelter from the wind, on the lee." She touched her finger tips to the fresh cut wood. "Be quick. The clouds drop." Morgayne pushed open the door, and it scraped upon the stone. "A storm comes. I feel it."

It is in her eyes, I see it, thought Artur, as he tied up the horse and gave it feed. What is she here, my sister? What portent do I follow? Artur, a captain used to the sea, knew that caution in the face of elemental forces was a pointless art. The elements would prevail no matter the acts of a man. Morgayne was connected to the world through her witchery and magick, yet she was his sister too, and a woman. Artur brushed dusted snow from his cloak and stepped across her threshold. He was invited in, but entered as was his right. King in his land, and certain of his dominion.

Morgayne in hers, and certain of it too.

Inside the hut its dimensions were elusive. Morgayne circled the first room and lit several rushlights mounted in metal brackets on the walls. Their light sputtered and shifted on currents of air as she moved, then settled steady, casting circles of light on each wall and low penumbras on the floor. Small window openings high on the walls let the darkening daylight cast dull shadows. Morgayne placed cut logs onto the dark embers of the fire in the stone hearth, and slowly warmth crept into the room, red heat crackling open from the black coals.

"Brother, drop your cloak and stand before me, that I know my king."

"Sister, tie back your hair and stand before me, that I know my place."

"Ah, sweet brother, you know it." Morgayne's eyes widened as she heard his promise and his fealty.

"I've always known it, since you came to me in my dreams."

"Hmmm, yes, I remember you calling in the night, after you knew the girl from the round island under the volcanoes." Morgayne caressed Artur's neck, and he closed his eyes. "She woke your heart, didn't she, love?" Her fingers were warm and slow on his skin. "I heard you calling, how could I not?" Her voice just a whisper. "We're blood through our mother." Her lips touched his neck. "And you're my little brother." She kissed his lips. "Who I took by the hand into our favourite places." Her hand touched his skin. "Where nobody knew but me."

Artur stood in the centre of the room, motionless, as Morgayne circled around him once. She moved behind him, slid her arms around his body and held both hands to his chest. She was tall, the top of her head nearly level with Artur's, and her body long and lean. She pressed up against his back, holding him close. He shivered, but it wasn't cold in the room. The fire crackled and spat.

Morgayne reached for the broach and clip at his throat and undid the loops and straps. Artur's furs dropped to the floor. She slid around in front of him, and took his face in her hands, studying him. Artur's face was tanned brown from the wind and the elements, and his tangled hair a dirty blond. By contrast, Morgayne's skin was pale as the dropped snow outside, her hair black as night. She held him for a moment with a steady look in her eyes, then ran her fingers through his hair to the back of his head, pulling his mouth to hers.

Their kiss was long, a mutual delicate taste at first, then they were hungry for each other. Passion swept over them and their hands fought with buttons and straps, getting in each other's way as they tried to pull garments away from their bodies. Artur pushed Morgayne's hands from him, ah her touch is gone, so he could concentrate on the long row of buttons running from her throat, down between her slight breasts, to the base of her belly. He gripped the cloth in both hands and pushed it off her shoulders, down her arms. Some buttons popped away with his force and spun, spiralling and spinning on the floor.

The top half of her gown fell behind her, and Morgayne quickly tugged the fabric down from her waist and dropped it to the floor, a pool of blackness at her feet. She stood before him in a sheath of white linen, ties down one side. Artur reached for one of the ties, to pull it undone, but she stepped back, ah she is gone.

"Wait, brother, pull off your boots, your leggings and straps. 'Tis quicker, you do it!"

"Hungry for me, Gayne?" Artur looked up at her as knelt and loosened the straps.

At the sound of his oldest name for her, the strangest look came into her eyes. Morgayne's face flickered with quick shifting emotions. "You know it, Artur. But we cannot, brother. Our mother is one, we come from same womb."

"Yet two fathers made us, and they are both dead." Artur stood before her, and touched his fingers to Morgayne's lips. "So we are blood, but only half blood."

"Artur, are you sure of it?" She scrutinised him. "Every man has to be born from his mother, but his father's a less certain thing."

"I am, sister, I am sure of it. How else did I pull Scalibur from the rock, else to be the dead king's son?"

"A symbol is not all of it, Artur." Morgayne gazed at him, pondering. "What proof you, that Uther's blood is in your veins? The Lord Uther let the rumour grow that my father, Gorloys, bedded our mother before he rode to his death. That might be the truth, little brother." She stopped talking and closed her eyes, deep in thought.

"I know it, brother, I know the proof. Uthur King, I nursed him on his dying bed. On his side, there was a dark bruise, a permanent thing on his flesh, just to the side of his hip. Like a spilt cup of wine, his flesh was bruised red." Morgayne looked at Artur closely. "Uthur marked it a thing from his youth, and his father before him was marked too, so he said." Her argument rose to its conclusion. "The king's mark, Artur. Do you have it?" She challenged him, her brother a man, but was he a king? "Without Uther's mark, you are not king, but ordinary flesh." Morgayne scrutinised him, her eyes blazing, seeking truth. "I don't remember seeing a mark on your skin."

"Ah sister, you think it ordinary flesh?" Artur dropped away all of the garments from his limbs, and pealed the rough shirt over his head and stood before her naked. "I am marked, and I thought it most curious. It grew darker as I grew older, and always most cleverly hidden. But I am marked, yes."

Morgayne's eyes widened at the sight of Artur naked before her, and her tongue darted red on her lips. Her gaze narrowed and she studied his flesh, looking this way and that on his body. She reached out her hand to touch his skin, and ran a single finger down his side, feather light. His cock twitched, a thickening started. Morgayne slowly moved around him, her finger tips trailing on his skin, across his back, and to his other side. "You lie, Artur. You are not marked. I don't see it." Her voice was low, and her fingers lower.

"Cleverly hidden, my doubting sister, I said it was cleverly hidden." He smiled. "Your fingers keep their delicate stroke, you'll find it soon enough." Artur shifted his feet apart, and his cock thickened some more, lengthening down his thigh. Morgayne licked her lips again, and her fingers wandered down.

Artur reached for a tie on the side of her shift and tugged, and the whole cord ran through the eyelets and loops all up and down the cloth. It opened away to reveal Morgayne's nakedness. She was tall and thin, her slight breasts with dark nipples standing hard already. Artur caressed her side with the fingers that undid the string, and reached inside the cloth to circle her waist. He pulled her to his own body, flesh against flesh, her breasts to his chest, her belly against his hard gut. Artur flicked the drape of cloth from his sister's shoulders and it fell to the floor.

Morgayne was an inch or two shorter than her brother, but her legs longer than his, so the thick black gloss of hair at the base of her belly rested over the root of his cock. She ground against him and felt his heat thicken. He wasn't yet hard, but growing harder. Morgayne pressed again and her clit pushed to his flesh. She moaned, and the sound was deep in her throat, almost a growl.

She eased her legs apart to let the length of Artur's cock rise up between her thighs till it touched the lips of her cunt and she felt his heat. Morgayne rocked back and forth on him, spreading her gliding slide on Artur's flesh, at the same time gripping the firm curves of his ass in both hands. They swayed and ground against each other, Artur's arms wrapped tight around her, claiming her slender frame as his, her body captive. Morgayne did not fight him. She fucked upon his mouth with her tongue, thrusting it between his teeth and savouring the taste of him.

"Hidden where, brother, how can a blaze be hid?"

Artur chuckled. "You want to see the mark of the king upon me? What will I be then, sister, a brother or a king?" He broke away from her grasp and stepped back. Finding a pool of light, dimming now as the rushes burned down, he stood before her, confident in himself, king. The flames flickered and dipped, and shadows shifted in the room. Artur's prick, released from the delicious grip of her thighs, stood long and hard up against his gut. Its head was a beautiful red, the deep colour of plums. The tip of him just touched the bottom of his navel, a good size. Morgayne's eyes lit up at the sight of him, and her hand reached out, her fingers stretching wide as if to measure his length.

"Brother, that's a fine cock your father gave you. I was so fleeting fast when you pulled the dagger from the rock, I did not properly see."

"Ah yes, and I looked up and saw your precious cunt, dark above me on the rock. I saw you well enough, your hand all covered in mud, your belly glistening with my seed." Artur closed his eyes, remembering. He opened his eyes and saw her, gazing on him. He reached out one hand and took hers, and with his other hand splayed his fingers along his cock. "See now the blaze, all on the base of my shaft. As I say, a curious thing, 'twas never there as a small boy. 'Tis why you never saw it, with your slow hands stroking."

Morgayne dropped to her knees before him, her great length of hair coiling on the floor. There, as Artur promised, his blaze was like an uneven bruise on the underside of his cock shaft, darker than the flesh of the rest of him, like a leaf wrapped around. "A hidden thing, until my cock makes big to discover it."

Morgayne took the length of him in one hand and held it still for a moment, studying the birth mark on his cock. She looked up at Artur, a wry smile on her face. "Who would have thought it, my little brother, the king!" She stroked, just once. "As you say, most cleverly hid."

Morgayne stroked him again, ever so slowly, her finger tips gliding lightly along his flesh. She dipped her hand between her legs and splayed her lips apart, anointing her finger tips with her own wetness, and trailed one sliding finger along the shaft. "My sweet boy, grown to be king."

Morgayne stood, her hand holding him still. "Come, brother, I have a lying place within. A fit place to bed a king, I think." Leading him by the cock, she walked through a low door into a second room. Artur followed, and this time was led across her threshold into Morgayne's dominion. Outside, a beat of rain blew against the door, and in the distance, thunder called. A storm was rising.

Inside the bed chamber a round iron stove radiated heat, a cleverly built thing. Artur recognised it as a device of Maerlyn's design, and wondered on it here. Not for long his wondering, as Morgayne, still leading him by the cock, turned down coverlets on a low bed. She pushed him down onto it, one hand splayed on Artur's chest, the other still gripping his length, her fingers a slow twist and a stroke, commanding the brother her king to her will.

"Hush, brother, I'm here. You're safe with me, you're always safe in the night with me." Morgayne's whisper was close to his ear, and her lips dropped hot to his throat. Artur moaned with a starting lust, and reached up for her.

She pulled back, denying him. "Ah brother, slowly, slowly, my love. Let Gayne do it."

At the sound of her oldest name, whispered by her woman's lips, Artur twitched and his cock bounced. His fingers gripped the covers on the bed, and he waited for her fingers slow. His eyes closed, and he lay perfect on the bed, his body hard and muscled, his cock beautiful, long. His nipples rose in tight points. Morgayne looked down on him, and she dipped her fingers to her cunt again, anointing herself. Her nipples were dark and thick.

She crawled up his body and scented herself to Artur's breath, and blessed herself on his lips. Her eyes widened black and her own lust smell rose in the room, pungent and rich. Morgayne quivered, and slid along his body. Her cunt swelled, hot blood, her pulse beating steady and firm. The scent of sex swirled thick and heavy on the air.

She knelt up, and slowly separated long strands of her hair between her fingers. She tugged five strands from her head and coiled them all in a loop. Reaching for one of Artur's hands , Morgayne turned the hairs around his wrist and pulled them through. Four hairs pulled loose, yet one remained. She pulled it tight, and looped the black strand of hair, barely visible and dark as midnight, to a far bedpost. "I bind you, brother, with mine hair, that no man has cut, no woman neither."

Morgayne repeated the ceremony at his wrist and ankles, and bound the man to her bed with the finest trancement and the thinnest web. Artur lay still, his cock rigid against his gut, a tiny shine glistening on its tip. "Don't move, Artur, don't make a noise." She took his cock in her hand, and delicately held it high from his belly. She wound and wound the final strand of the hair from her head round and around Artur's cock, and her shadow was upon his tightness and bound him there.

Morgayne dipped her tongue to his tip, a delicate taste, and the opening of his prick widened. She probed her tongue, just once. His cock reared up. "Oh Artur, does my taste taunt you?" Low, so low, her voice just a breath in the room, but he knew her words so well from the dream.

"You know it, sister, you've always known it." Artur's whisper was barely spoken, she knew his words so well from the dream.

"Slowly, little brother, wait for Gayne now."

Morgayne lowered her body until she lay upon his, pushing his legs apart so her thighs were between his thighs, her cunt and dark hair pushing hard against his high, tight balls. Artur's hot, hard shaft lay long between her belly and his muscled gut, her nipples pressed to his chest, her tight breasts flattened. She outstretched her arms and laced her fingers through her brother's fingers, and it was a crucifixion on the bed. But there was no dead god here, it was life, thick lust and lost love, her brother the king and dark Morgayne in her domain.

She slid upon him, her pale body arching up like a snake, her midnight black hair coiled all around. Morgayne pressed her hot cunt to his core, and slid herself upwards until her thick dark hair glistened with her juice, and she sat upon his hard heat. Artur, his limbs trapped and spread wide by the binding of her hair, Morgayne's magick holding firm, could only moan and rock his head from side to side. She slid her red centre along his shaft but did not take him in.

Artur's eyes closed with the pleasure of her slow fuck, her slide on his shaft. Morgayne released her fingers from his, and brought her hands onto his chest. She crouched over him, and moved up higher, higher, until her ripe sex smothered his mouth and nose. Morgayne mewled and cried out like some animal, some rising bird, as Artur fucked up into his sister's cunt with his tongue, his legs thrashing and quivering but always held firm by the silken charm of her binding hair.

With a crump of thunder the storm outside thrust its force up against the house, rain smashing against the outside wall. A frightened cry was heard from Artur's horse, and was echoed by a primal cry from Morgayne, "Ahh brother, fuck, oh my king." She stretched her arms high in the air, her tight, heaving breasts glistening with the heat of her passion.

Morgayne lifted her cunt from her brother's face, and she turned so she faced his high, throbbing cock, beads glistening from its crack like tiny diamonds, clear and bright. She lowered her cunt to him again, and was pleasured by a long lick, a deep probe, and the king's tongue along her luscious slit. She reached behind and splayed herself wider with both hands, opening up her dark asshole to Artur's eyes. "Sister!" he cried, and thrust the point of his tongue into her sweet asshole, fucking her there, tasting her dark musk.