Legend's Fall

by Monica Corwin

  “Gwen was weak, selfish, and to be honest, repulsive in her femininity. It would be nice to see him with someone who could show him a different side of women.”

  Maggie lifted her hand and pointed at him.

  “There will be no ‘with him.’ I’m doing you guys a favor while he repairs the damage he caused.” She picked up her laptop and stormed up the stairs in a huff, slamming the door behind her.

  How dare he ask her such personal questions and then make assumptions. Had she been thinking about Arthur sexually? Of course, the man was a walking Calvin Klein ad. Any woman with blood in her veins would regard him the same way.

  She took a deep breath, trying to catch hold of her calm and steady her breathing. She walked over to the bookshelf by her bed and ran her hands along the spines. Each and every book in her personal library was Arthurian Legend. She didn’t know if Arthur saw that or not but she was a bit ashamed with the man himself downstairs. The spines beckoned her to read them but she turned away, intent on figuring out a prophecy and a legend on her laptop.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maggie woke up to the shower running again. This time she didn’t grab a weapon; she knew perfectly well who was in her house. She had dreamt about it, dreams she would never admit to out loud. She could hear him humming in the shower and she caught a brief flashback of yesterday’s debacle. Water sluicing down his skin—all that skin. She shook herself and grabbed her robe. It was odd having someone else here in the morning but it didn’t feel uncomfortable, he seemed to fit pretty well into her life.

  Maggie started the coffee and decided to make some waffles; she needed to clear her head of daydreams and fantasies. This was not how she lived her life. She started making the waffles as he emerged from the hallway in a cloud of vanilla. She got the warm heat in the pit of her stomach when he stepped into view. She smiled at him.

  “Do you like waffles?” she asked as she poured batter into the griddle.

  “Sure,” he said, peering around the top of the bar to watch her cook. He stood with his back against the counter, staring intently at every move she made.

  “I like to watch you do things,” he told her.

  She glanced back at him and smiled. “When I’m not beating you up.”

  She went back to making waffles, the whole time thinking about his proximity and the dreams about being in his arms. She finished cooking, they ate in silence, she got dressed, and they went down to the shop to open up for Merlyn. Arthur and Merlyn immediately went to the back while she organized paperwork in the front. She could hear them whispering but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  An hour passed, then two, and she realized she had been staring at the same sheet of paper for a minute. She heard the men’s voices get louder as they came up to the counter where she was sitting. She looked up at them and forced a smile. No reason she couldn’t be civil, even if he was crazy. Merlyn came around the side of the counter and stood directly in front of Maggie; she got apprehensive with him so much in her personal space and her smile faltered.

  “Have you figured out what this is?” He sat the book on the glass.

  “This is my prophecy. This is what I used to keep Arthur alive and how he has been able to return. You spilled your blood on this book at some point before Arthur came into your life,” Merlyn said. Maggie’s eyes grew round. She wasn’t really sure what to do here. Either they were both insane or she was.

  Maggie groaned and dropped her face into her hands. What was going on? She wanted normality, calm, not this.

  “Suppose you are both telling the truth, magic exists, and you both are part of a prophecy. Where do I fall in all of this? Why are you both here in my life?” She needed them to answer with a good answer; it needed to be a good answer.

  “To be honest...we do not know,” Merlyn said.

  “Well, we know you are the one who called me here. So, you need something from me, something only I can help you with,” Arthur interjected. “Usually I go against an Army, I fight, but this time I seem to be wrangling books. That can’t be why I was called forth.”

  Maggie shook her head. She had to remain calm and think logically. Books were the only thing she needed done but she couldn’t think of a job in the shop big enough to bring forth a mythical icon to complete. Maggie looked up at Arthur. He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch her but he didn’t and Maggie couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or not. She nodded and climbed out of the chair.

  “I just need some time alone guys. I’ll be down in a bit.” She climbed the stairs and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lancelot paced back and forth down the hallway. He had waited every day for as long as he could remember for Gwen to finish trying to please Arthur and come speak to him. She never had. She would pass him, he would reach out to her, and she’d keep walking. Some days she would be in tears or running as she passed. He never knew what Arthur said to her but he was damn sure getting tired of it. He gave up his hopes, his dreams, his family, everything for her and she acted like he didn’t exist. Not anymore, today he was going to confront her and he would get an answer.

  He could hear her knocking on Arthur’s door in the adjacent corridor; Lancelot didn’t hear a response. She had been knocking for ten minutes. He continued to pace back and forth, his boots scuffing the stone on the floor.

  Ten minutes later she came walking past, head bowed, and tears streaming down her face.

  “Hey, Gwen, wait!” He called as she passed him. She didn’t respond, just kept walking.

  “Wait a goddamn minute,” he yelled. Her steps faltered and she turned toward him.

  “You will not use the Lord’s name in vane in front of me!” she said, weakly.

  “Then stop and talk to me!” He moved down the hall and she turned away. He reached out, grabbing her elbow gently, and turned her toward him.

  “I think you owe me an explanation. You refuse to speak to me, look at me; all you do is go to HIM!” He could feel the anger building in his chest but he would never let it out, not at her.

  She looked up into his eyes and shook her head.

  “Please, at least tell me what I did, why you will not speak to me. Please. I beg you. Please.” He was not above begging, not for her.

  Maybe it was the pleading in his voice but she turned back to him.

  “I cannot be with you, Lance. I am married to Arthur still. I cannot acknowledge feelings for you and I will not say anything to that nature out loud. I will not be trapped here longer by the longings of my heart,” she whispered, cupping his face gently.

  His heart broke all over again. She thought she was here because they had been together; she had blamed herself this long. He placed his fingers over hers and savored the touch of another human being for a just a moment. She removed her hand too quickly and stepped back from him.

  “We cannot be together, Lance, I am sorry. I will not do it.”

  “This isn’t your fault. Did Arthur tell you it was?”

  “No, he says the same as you but I know it’s the only reason.”

  “No, it’s not. Please, don’t do this. I have waited for you. I will keep waiting for you. We will be together.”

  She smiled sadly and turned away, disappearing around a corner. He didn’t follow her. It was time for a confrontation long coming. He headed toward the other end of the hallway.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Maggie never came back down the stairs. He would have thought she left if it weren’t for the fact there was no way out from up there except through the shop. Mel went home at five and Arthur cleaned up the work they had done. He wanted to go up there but he wasn’t sure if he was welcome. When the light started to fade, he reluctantly climbed the stairs. He had to stop being scared of her reaction. He had to do something; he couldn’t just wait in limbo. When he got to the top of the stairs he debated about knocking, but he didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘no.’

  He
opened the door slowly and pushed only his head through. She was sitting on her bed with a book in one of her hands and the other clutching a coffee cup. She looked at him when he came into the room but didn’t tell him to leave. She sat down her coffee mug on the bedside table and closed the book.

  “This is my favorite book,” she said, closing it so he could see the cover. It was Idylls of a King by Sir Alfred Lord Tennyson. He smiled; of all the Arthurian legend books he liked this one the best too. He moved closer, slowly, so she could watch his movements and stop him if she wanted. He glanced down at the passage she was reading:

  Like souls that balance joy and pain,

  With tears and smiles from heaven again

  The maiden spring upon the plain

  Came in a sunlit fall of rain.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asked, sitting on the end of her bed and angling his body toward her.

  “Do you?” she countered, lying back on the pillows and putting the book aside.

  “I will tell you everything, from the beginning if you want to know what happened.” He said it blankly, like he had no emotional investment in his own story. A story he had probably thought about a thousand times, more so to figure out what had gone wrong. She nodded and settled back into the pillows. He took a deep breath and leaned back against the wood pole of her footboard. It creaked slightly under his weight.

  “I have never told anyone this story, not even Merlyn yet. He knows most of it, just not the most recent bit.” He rubbed his arm and looked at the blanket on the bed.

  “When I saw Gwen for the first time it was like seeing heaven. She was so beautiful and radiant, like the planets circling the sun, and you couldn’t help but want to be near her. She was also kind and gentle so that made it so much harder to resist. She became my queen and was a good one, she treated our people with respect, dignity, and we forged a powerful kingdom. I am sure you know the legends, the speculations. Some of it follows along correctly. Lancelot showed up from nowhere, he was dressed in white. Come to think of it, I have no idea why he would wear white to fight in but...” He trailed off, glancing at Maggie’s face, and then continued.

  “I thought he was an angel when I first saw him, but when I saw him fight I knew if he were an angel, he had to be the angel of death. No man should be able to move like that. He entered a tournament we had in honor of our first anniversary, won it outright, and I asked him to join my knights. He quickly agreed and soon became my best friend. He always had an encouraging word for anyone and everyone.”

  “When my Gwen was kidnapped by an enemy, he went and saved her covertly, helping our kingdom avoid another costly war. I would have gone myself but I couldn’t leave the kingdom without being noticed, or missed. Lancelot just plucked her out of their castle and brought her back. It was like magic.”

  “From that day on I could tell something had changed between them. Maybe it was because he went and saved her, or maybe it was because he was so much like her, kind and gentle. I started to notice little things, their absence at the same time, the way they looked at each other at dinner. I never actually caught them together but my cousin did, the same cousin who wanted my throne. He had a knight with him, one of mine, and they caught them in the act. I had to bring them in front of the kingdom, in front everyone, and show the world what they did and how I was humiliated. I would have preferred to handle it quietly but once my cousin got wind he took it upon himself to arrest the ‘traitors’ and restore the throne’s honor.”

  “I had no choice but to sentence them to death, but thankfully Lance would not allow that to happen. He fought my knights and escaped with Gwen. Nothing was the same after that. Everyone doubted my ability to control the kingdom, my ability to fight the oncoming Saxons. There was a coup and my last act before I was trapped on Avalon was killing my cousin. He died in my arms and I still can’t forgive myself for allowing it to happen.”

  His voice had taken on a cold distant quality and Maggie leaned forward and touched her hand to his arm. He met her eyes and could see the sympathy and sincerity there. She no longer doubted him.

  “So what is this?” she asked, touching the scars on his arms.

  “These are from the times I was pulled back. I fought in both of the World Wars, took bullets and shrapnel. It was disconcerting, the first war I had to fight with guns. I still don’t like them.” He shivered and Maggie rubbed his arms.

  “I don’t like them either,” she whispered. The shadows of those long dead hung around them in a mood-withering cloud. He could see the urge to push it down and run away on Maggie’s face.

  “I am going to make some food.” She got up to leave but Arthur snagged her arm and pulled her back.

  “Please, stay with me for a moment.”

  Maggie swallowed but moved back to him. She gingerly wrapped her arms around him, and he smiled at her attempt to comfort him. He stayed still in her arms on the bed, reflecting on what he’d shared with her. He had never told anyone what was going on inside of him, even as it was happening. There was never anyone he could trust with any of his thoughts or emotions. He had hoped Gwen would be that for him, help him rule, but she was raised to be a queen, and she didn’t make decisions or share her feelings with him, her king. She did her “duties,” but that was always what he was to her, a duty.

  Arthur climbed out of the bed, pulling Maggie to her feet as he got up. She immediately started for the refrigerator and had numerous processes going to prepare a meal. She commanded the kitchen as if she commanded men. The sight of her chopping and the sizzling smell and sound of meat in the air soon became too much for his curiosity; it smelled delicious.

  “What are you cooking?”

  “Tacos,” she said over her shoulder. He came up behind her and she could feel his breath on her neck, but this time she didn’t flinch and scuttle around, and he deliberately blew out a breath on the back of her neck to watch her shiver. He wanted to make her whole body shiver. The realization poured through him. She was so beautiful, deliberate, and breath-taking. No matter how his whole situation played out he didn’t think he would ever forget her.

  She cooked quickly and Arthur learned that tacos were one of his favorite foods. He loved the spice on his tongue and the juxtaposition of the hot meat and the cool toppings. It was delicious. Maybe he could use Monopoly to entice her story out of her later. He continued to eat and watch her across the table.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Maggie looked across the dining room table at Arthur. This man had been through so much in his life and he could still somehow be okay. He didn’t blame unknown deities for his pain; he certainly didn’t curse all of woman-kind. Guilt assailed her for a moment; here she sat blaming the Army, blaming terrorism and everyone else for her unhappiness when she should blame herself.

  A quote she had read a while ago flashed through her mind. “If you want to be happy, be.” She should have taken that advice a long time ago, then she might have been able to say goodbye to her mother, and she might be able to open up to Arthur. She would give anything not to feel so alone among so many people.

  He smiled at her.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, reaching his hand across the table to run the pad of his thumb across the back of her fingers. When his skin met her a lightning strike hit her body. She was so aware of him, his scent, his movements, and his skin against hers.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.” She gave him a forced smile. She could see in his eyes that he didn’t buy it.

  “I’ll clear the table.” He got up and put the dishes and condiments in the sink, and she watched his easy gait as he moved. His ass really did look great in those jeans. She thought of the kiss they had shared, it had easily been one of the best ones she had ever received. It might have been a while for them both, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he would be in bed. She remembered all the bare tan skin she saw the first day they met. He would certainly be fun to lick, with all those ridges and hollows.

&n
bsp; She thought about being happy for a moment. Would being with him make her happy? It certainly couldn’t hurt. What if she let him in her heart and then he was gone forever? What if they didn’t find a way to break the spell? She took a deep breath, knowing in her heart of hearts she would regret not being with him even if it was only for a short time.

  “Arthur.” Maggie said his name softly. He came from the sink over to her in a matter of seconds.

  “Can you help me with something?” she asked, looking up at him with a small grin.

  “Anything,” he said, smiling back, his dimples making her heart even weaker.

  “My leg is kind of stiff from moving all the boxes today. Do you think you can rub some of my lotion into it? It helps the stiffness.” His smile grew wider, even showing some teeth.

  “Sure.” He went and got the lotion from her bedside table.

  “This the right one?” She nodded and swiveled in the chair to face him better. She lifted the hem of her skirt to mid-thigh and glanced under her lashes at him. He got to his knees in front of her and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. She took the cocoa butter bottle from his hands and squirted a generous amount into her palm. Her leg was rough looking, she knew, but he had seen her scars and had called her beautiful. She needed him to do this, to touch them, accept them, and then she could let him in.

  She massaged the lotion between her palms as she looked at him. He was watching the motions her hands made as they slid together. She leaned over a bit and started slowly massaging the start of the scar below her knee. She slid up, watching his eyes watch her hands. She could tell he was more than willing to help.

  “I think it would help with a stronger hand,” she said, sitting back up and massaging the lotion into her hands. He just nodded, eyes still riveted on her skin. She handed him the bottle and he squirted some into his palm, mimicked her motions, and began on the patch of scarring where she left off. The moment his skin met hers the awareness built again.