Part Four - Ties that Bind
"Follow me, Artur, follow me!" Morgayne's high laughing cry echoed in the long stone corridor as her pattering feet ran ahead, faster than he could run. Artur never could catch her, the room would always be still when he reached the doorway.
"'Gayne, Gayne, stop hiding," Artur called into the dark room. He heard a rustle of straw, and a sweep of cloth along the floor. "Where are you, Gayne?"
"Here I am, Artur, you know I'm always here." And his sister would jump up and wrap her arms around his back and pull him down to the floor. The straw would prickle his back as she pulled the linen shirt over his head. Morgayne would slowly stroke Artur's untidy blond hair from his eyes as she held her brother close to her breast. Her skin was always so warm and soft, so soft.
"I'm always here, Artur...."
Artur shuddered from sleep. His arm, thrown out from under the bed clothes, knocked against a low wooden shelf, rocking little carved statues standing there all in a row. He sat up, rubbing his forearm where it had banged against the wood, shaking his head to clear it from the dream. The dream.
He remembered the first time his sister appeared in his head, years before. He'd returned from one of his long sea voyages to the round island where the ice ran into the sea and volcanoes spat smoke and rock into the sky. The island where his first girl lived, the one who showed him both hunger and laughter with her legs spread wide and her arms wrapped tight around his back. The one who stole into his snug sleeping sack every night and risked the wrath of her father. His first girl.
But she wasn't his first girl. Back on his own island, the dark black eyes of his sister gazed at him every time he woke from the dream. Every time was waking twice, and as he grew older Morgayne's hands were always slow, so slow.
Artur hauled himself up from the bed, and pulled the long pelts of wolf and marten around his naked limbs for warmth. His morning cock was hard, harder still from the dream as it always was. He shuffled from the sleeping chamber, his head still echoing, and made his way outside to the stone gutter. Artur leaned his head against the wall, and with one arm held back the heavy pelts. He gripped the hard length of his cock and pushed it down away from his gut as best he could, it stood so high and hard. After some settling breaths, he let go a long piss, a hard jet driving against the wall, and his cock slowly eased and let him run the stream down the wall.
"Ahh, fuck, that's better." He shook the last drops, and looked down at his prick, still thick and long. "She haunts me, that is certain."
In his mind's eye, Artur replayed the vision of Morgayne as she crouched above him on the rock, displaying the dark lips of her cunt right above his head. He'd felt a curious power flowing from the stone and through the mist as he pulled loose the dagger Scalibur and felt its force. But he knew without doubt it was the thick coiled hair of his own sister, her naked cunt there in front of him real and raw, that surged up the first throb of seed from the base of his spine.
"I'm the fuck, not this foul sorcery!" Morgayne's words still rang in his ears, now and at night when he stroked white cream high onto his chest. A king without a whore, his own sister there instead. Artur smiled a wry smile to himself. It's a strange way to start a kingdom. He shook his head to clear the fog.
Artur knotted belts about his waist and wandered slow and thoughtful across to the main hall, greeting the pig boy and the five girls who kept the goats and chickens, and knew the best herbs in the gardens.
"Lord, the morning greet you, sire." Their voices were quiet in a respectful harmony, but the youngest girl was kicked in the shin by her older sister to make her bob down faster. Artur smiled as he saw it, winking at the little one in a conspiracy. Her little smile delighted him.
"And it greet you." He paused for a moment. "Emmelyne, the oldest mothering goat. Is she birthed yet, her belly so big?"
"No sire, it must be soon." Emmelyne replied with a shyness and a pretty blush. The king remembered her name and the state of her goat. She would run to tell her mother.
"Ah good. Her cheese will sweeter be, if kids sup from her teat and we share a bit of her milk." Artur moved on, his easy charm a natural thing. "Rednock, your pig is too loud on the mornings, I cannot hear the crow of the cockerel."
"Sire, yes Lord, I'll...." Rednock stopped, seeing the king's grin and his laughing eyes.
"Don't worry it, lad. Methinks we need a new cockerel that knows a proper voice, not a new pig."
His diplomacy done for the day, Artur entered the main hall and found fresh bread there. He asked the cook for eggs, and sat with his back to the fire while they were cooked. By the time his meal was ready, the last vestiges of the dream had cleared from his mind, and Artur could think clearly. He was a practical man - he dreamed, his prick throbbed and jetted as a consequence, he awoke and was alone. All in his head then, these dreams, no matter, nor anyone to see. Morgayne's darkness spilled around him and was gone into the night, hidden there and silent.
"Ah, Maerlyn, I see you back from Tyntangel. How does my mother?"
"The Lady is well, Lord. The travel was tiring, as you know it from the distance, but your mother is content, I think."
"And my sisters?"
"They are both well, sire. Mourning the king, as you might expect. They tend the grave each day with flowers."
"Both, Maer? I have three sisters with my mother at Tyntangel, yet you only mention two." Artur looked directly at Maerlyn and saw the discomfort in his eyes. "Morgayne unsettles you, Maerlyn, I know it, yet she is my sister too. Don't forget it."
"Sire, I do not forget the Lady Morgayne." Maerlyn looked up to the distance as if he heard a far off call. "Beg forgiveness, Lord, if I accidentally offended thee."