Cassandra heard the muffled cry of the guard and the sound of a body falling to the floor, but she didn’t react. She knew he wasn’t dead and, more importantly, knew who his assailant was.
She didn’t turn either, even when she felt the undeniable presence watching her, the weight of the other woman’s gaze running up and down her spine. Cassandra made her speak first. It was a small victory but it was the only one she could have.
“Cassandra…”
Slowly she rolled, not bothering to rise from the floor, looking at her uninvited visitor. She was still impossibly beautiful, even with a tainted mixture of sorrow and anger on her face. Morgana was silent for a moment, regarding her. It was a far cry from when they’d last met.
“I can’t free you,” she said bluntly, perhaps wanting to dispel hope before it was cruelly allowed to grow.
She needn’t have worried.
“I know.”
Cassandra’s voice sounded surprisingly steady considering she hadn’t used for so long.
“It isn’t time yet.”
“I know.”
She’d seen that much; her locked in this cell whilst the city above her burned. But not for a long while and in the meantime it was her destiny to await its arrival.
The Great Horse.
Only one thing remained a mystery to her.
“Why are you here, Morgana?”
The cell unlocked with a mere wave of Morgana’s hand and she walked inside. Her footsteps were delicate, barely leaving a mark on the floor. No one would know that she’d been here come morning. Wordlessly, she knelt down beside Cassandra, lifting her head and placing it in her lap, stroking her matted hair.
“To bring you comfort,” she finally replied. “You should have that at least.”
It was Cassandra’s turn to be silent, just looking up at her, her gaze unyielding. Then she reached up and touched Morgana’s cheek. She wasn’t afraid to touch her any more.
“Because you too know what it’s like to have a father betray you,” she whispered in understanding.
“Yes,” Morgana nodded, not even asking how Cassandra knew that.
With strength she thought had been lost to her, Cassandra sat up, hands caressing Morgana’s cheek and through her dark hair. Perhaps, she mused, madness has truly taken her now because she’s far bolder than she’d ever dared to be before. She wasn’t afraid of anything now.
Morgana had been right; these weren’t her people and this wasn’t her home. They’ abandoned her, but her true sisters were waiting out there for her to join them once her part here was played.
“Then weep with me sister,” she whispered before drawing Morgana’s lips to hers.
She didn’t know how long it’d been since Morgana was last kissed, truly kissed, but the sorceress seemed hesitant for a moment, as though she’d forgotten what it was like. Then she pulled Cassandra closer and returned it with fervour.
Yes, this was comfort of the most perfect kind.
The intent was clear as Morgana’s hands caressed down Cassandra’s body and she lifted the princess back up to the palette with surprising strength. She didn’t ask for permission but she didn’t need to; Cassandra’s consent clear in the way she drew her close, writhing with approval as Morgana started to remove her tattered clothes and kiss every inch of exposed skin.
“Let’s not weep,” Morgana whispered as she kissed over the rise of Cassandra’s breast. “Let us worship and make memories to keep long nights warm.”
Cassandra’s agreement was a soft moan as Morgana’s lips close over her nipple.
She didn’t know how the other woman undressed. Her clothes seem complex, wrapped around her like a second skin. Yet when she finally stood and whispered something, they loosened and, with a small shrug, slid off her shoulders to pool at her feet. She was unashamed in her body and Cassandra didn’t get enough time to appreciate her beauty before Morgana lay back over her, kissing her again.
Cassandra had never known such pleasure existed until that night, wrapped in the other woman’s arms, lost under the ministrations of her fingers, lips and tongue. She cried out with abandon, knowing somehow that no one could hear them, her gaze locked with Morgana’s as the the sorceress brought her to release with her mouth. She made Morgana to teach her how to do it, the other woman’s fingers entwining with hers on her spread thigh as Cassandra pleasured her. She could swear that when Morgana reached her peak, she glowed golden.
Afterwards, they caressed and kissed lazily, Morgana’s arms wrapped protectively around her. Cassandra knew that come morning Morgana would be gone, but they didn’t speak of it. She just silently prayed to the goddess she now served that Morgana would return soon. If Cassandra is to be confined to a prison cell, then she at least wants the freedom she’s only ever found in Morgana’s touch. It seems a small payment for the role she’s asked to endure through these next years.
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