Cursed 2

FORTY SEVEN

With the first rays of sunlight and the morning dew, they lay around a small fire that had slowly burned down at night. Nimue, upon awakening, got up from the ground in silence, leaving behind the rest of her friends who were still asleep.
She was walking through the forest she was trying to get rid of the mountain of emotions and events that had occurred lately. Suddenly, she noticed piercing eyes on her back that did not let her meditate.

“What do you do?” she asked as she slowly turned around.

“I make sure that you're okay” replied the Weeping Monk, approaching her and gazing into her eyes, “Now more than ever the Church will be furious after the event in Pendragon and they shouldn't be far away, you are important.”

Nimue looked down in embarrassment and her cheeks turned pink at that last sentence.

“I don't need a babysitter, Lancelot.”

A laugh escapes the monk's lips before answering.

“I know, I have seen what you are capable of and despite not handling well with the sword, you are strong and you have the Hidden Ones on your side. But you must not die, you are the hope of the Feys.”

“What am I not good with the sword?!” she pretended to be hurt while they both smiled but, after a few seconds, Nimue became serious and continued, “Lancelot, I'm sorry I doubted you in Pendragon.”

“Hey don't worry, it was understandable, not long ago we were enemies.”

A boy's voice interrupted the conversation.

“Lancelot where were you?!” Squirrel yelled, approaching them, “you promised me that we would train with the bow when we woke up. Come on, let's go!” he said pulling him by the arm while Nimue and the monk gave each other a flirtatious smile before he and the boy disappeared into the trees.

Every day it was colder with the melancholic autumn that gradually lost its leaves covering the ground with them. In the distance, Merlin called her daughter several times but she did not realize it, absorbed in her thoughts.

“Nimue... Nimue!”

“What? What happen?”

“We should get going, we're still too close to Pendragon” he replied looking at his daughter curiously, “Nimue, are you okay? You are in the clouds. Did I miss something?”

“No, I was just taking a walk.”

“With the monk?”

“Have you seen us? It's not what you think, he thinks I'm the Fey's only hope and he wants to protect me.”

The young woman looked away from the wizard and sighed looking up at the tall treetops.

“Do you know what I think? I think someone is in love.”

“What! Don't talk nonsense Merlin, I don't like Lancelot.”

“I did not say at any time that it was Lancelot” he said with a mischievous smile causing Nimue to look away from him, “All I can advise is to do what your heart dictates you to avoid having to repent morning for not having done something or not being with whom you wanted.”

Those words made sense to the young woman who wistfully recalled the short relationship between her mother and the magician. With a determined step and without saying anything else, she left her father behind and went to the place where Squirrel and the monk were training with the bow.
When she reached that clearing and she steeled herself, Nimue suddenly kissed a surprised Weeping Monk on the lips who did not see her arrive, while Squirrel, with his mouth open and not believing what he was seeing, decided to sneak away when he saw that scene.That sweet kiss lasted a few seconds until the young man jerked away from her, causing her to be surprised.

“This is not a good idea” he said confusedly.

“I... I'm sorry... I thought... I thought we had connected with each other. I'm a fool.”

“It's not that!” he exclaimed pausing briefly before continuing, “Nimue, you deserve someone better.”

“Lancelot...”

“I'm serious. You put the safety of others before your own, you are kind, fair, you pursue your goals despite obstacles and you don't give up. You deserve someone better because you're good and I... I'm not.”

The monk looked down unable to help but feel remorse at the thought that he did not deserve to be carried away by his heart and have those feelings, especially for her.

“Lancelot, no one should get used to the bad things of the past, then the beautiful comes and you think you don't deserve it but we all have the right to love and be loved.”

Her answer made the monk reflect who did not want to get away from her, he wanted to love her. She saw in him a light that he himself could not find within.
Nimue, disappointed, turned to leave but at the last moment the Weeping Monk stopped her by grabbing her wrist and guiding her towards him to melt into a warm passionate kiss.
He moved a few inches away from her face and took Nimue's face in his hands.

“Stay with me” he whispered staring into her eyes.

Without saying anything, the young woman kissed him back and he placed one of his hands behind her head as they hastily removed their clothes and settled on the soft grass.The Weeping Monk wrapped his arms around her waist. The world around them had vanished and all that existed was the two of them, the warmth of their breaths and the taste of their lips.

Both intoxicated with love and desire, he was kissing her neck when the marks on Nimue's back caught his attention and he worriedly stopped kissing her.

“What are they?”

The young woman, realizing that he had seen her scars, hid them by putting on her shoulders the Monk's cloak that was lying on the grass.

“A demon disguised as a bear made them for me when I was little” she replied sadly.

“And why are you hiding them?”

“It's not a pretty thing to see.”

“I want to see them” he said, gently removing the cloak from her shoulders, “You don't have to hide them from me, they are part of you.”

Those words moved Nimue, who outlined a tender smile as he gently kissed the back of her shoulder where those scars were.
Their lips were fused again with passion, their hearts were pounding fast and their breaths were more and more agitated. Lost in ecstasy, her blood began to boil and when the water begins to boil turning off the fire is useless.
Their bare skins clung to each other and at that moment, with the soft perfumed breeze that swayed the green grass, they could feel that the forest was alive and the gods were witnesses of their love.

After that intimate moment, Nimue and the Weeping Monk were cuddled on the grass. She rested her face on his chest listening to the strong rhythm of his heart, while he stroked her arm with his index finger up and down.

“I had never met a girl so strange and intense at the same time, that she was able to make my mind was diluted” the monk suddenly commented.

“Why do you say that?” she asked laughing, lifting her head so that she could look into his eyes.

“It may sound strange but I know that I will continue to burn in flames for all the times that I have tried to climb higher and higher, for my past. But now you have sunk me, I have drowned in desire and you make me feel better. By you side you make me be better.”

She brought her face closer until she could feel his breath and gently placed her lips on the monk's.
When two souls are born to coincide, it does not matter the time or the past. A thin red thread had tied them together as if it were fate as a war against the church loomed.