#eiar

The Love of Two Beasts

"You really are a witch. You're telling me to kill the woman I love."

The snow fell thicker, so thick that I could feel its flakes melt through my wig, their cold touch on my scalp. Lugus's hair lay limp and heavy on his cheeks, drops of pale water sliding down to his coat, like tears. Still, neither of us moved.

Was it cruel of me? It was - but every other choice was harsher. Better be cruel to this one man, no matter how much it made my heart choke, than let the whole town sink to the endless depths of its decay.

Lugus. He would do it, and that would have to be enough. And we would never see each other again, in this world or another.

Before I could stop it, my hand found his cheek.

It was coarse and glacial under my fingers, the touch of two ghosts carved from rough stone. To give it warmth, to give it life... I stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his face. They caught a taste of snow, and farewell, and salt.

Then they tasted him. His mouth was on mine, and already his arms, awoken by my touch, hugged me to him, so hard I thought I'd break, as if he could meld us into one timeless sculpture. An eternity together. An impossible wish.

I broke the kiss first but did not back away. We deserved better. Would this soaked, miserable embrace be the last touch he'd give me before the steel of our swords pushed our hands apart? There had to be more. Something that would be only ours, his to remember through lifetimes, mine to forget forever. Our eyes searched each other for confirmation.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

He said it first. I was grateful that now as before Lugus's voice did not flinch and held no trace of doubt. I was grateful, too, to the man who had found him after losing me and gave him his courage as he had given me my life, who had taken care of him, for me, for me to love and to hurt.

"Yes."

"Then come with me."

His words were impassive, but his tone was gentle. Lugus took my hand and through the barren garden before his manor, through the cold corridors of that place marred by death, he led me to a warm sanctuary: a small room panelled with wood, painted gold by the flames of a small hearth, a refuge only for us.

He took a thick cover off the narrow bed and spread it on the floor, over plush rugs, to give us space and comfort. I watched the fabric glisten under the dancing flames, the vines and flowers embroidered on its surface like a promise of a spring I would not see. From a sturdy table, he took a tumbler of warm water and put it in my hand. His other hand fell on my shoulder. His smell enveloped me; thawed ice, fresh sweat.

"Eiar... These hours that we have, they're yours more than mine. The decision of what to do with them is yours."

It was, and I had made it, even before I left my prison to seek out my love and ask of him what no soul should give.

"I'm not experienced in these things. But what I want is for us to be together. The way lovers are."

I was pleased that my voice came out strong and certain. Lugus's fingers tensed on my shoulder. He looked away, and I wondered if I had mistaken his intent, bewildered him. Then he looked at me again.

"I'm not experienced in this either, nor do I regret it. Let's find our way together, my love."

As soon as he was done speaking, his lips pressed to mine. It was a gentle kiss, light and tender, a mark of his patient devotion. Then he led me by the waist to our makeshift bed.

We lowered onto our knees, side by side, our hips brushing against each other through the layers of our clothes. A singular shiver ran through me at his proximity.

Lugus turned to face me and looked at me in silence, his breath the only sound next to the crackling of the fire. I let my eyes drop. The water he had given me wet my lips, steadied my heart. I put it away and met his gaze again. I found it soft and exacting, waiting on me with restrained fervour. My resolve strengthened. He must have perceived it, for his fingers raised to my face and trailed on my skin, leaving a flutter in their wake. He slid his hand under my wig, then in a deft gesture, pulled it off and tossed it away.

"I've never so much as kissed you without this thing on."

"Did you like me better in it?"

"No. Everything you are is perfect, just as it is."

He caught my hair, his fingers weaved through its short strands.

"My witch..."

He closed the distance between us and pressed me to his chest, my lips to his lips. Soon his other hand slid along my neck, to the buttons of my shirt. He opened the first one, then the next one, then the one after that. I would learn his touch in new ways; I felt my throat close at the idea. I didn't dare move lest the moment shattered, and with each stroke of his fingers, I heard my heart pulse louder in my ears.

My shirt was open now, but it hung over my body, hiding it from his view. He slipped his hand through it, only to lay it flat on my stomach, skin to skin, as if to brace the both of us. My muscles clenched and my heat flew to his caress. I brought my hands up and finished what he started, pulled the fabric apart. He watched.

Fresh air hit my skin and I looked down at my small, boyish chest. My apprehension turned to panic, untied my tongue.

"Do you remember when you made fun of me? In the tower?"

I took a light tone, but the memory stung. To my surprise, Lugus looked away. His dark cheeks turned a redder brown.

"I didn't make fun of you. Eiar. On the contrary... Every day, to want you, but to doubt my desire, and to know you didn't want me back. To discover that new part of you... stirred me."

It was my turn to flush. He looked at me again and smiled through his reserve. His hands slid the shirt off my shoulders, caressed my arms, my sides.

"Everything you are is perfect."

Softly, he drew closer to my breasts and caught them from below. His thumbs floated to their trembling tips, and I bit my own hand to forestall the cry I felt spilling from my throat.

Then he pushed me.

It was a gentle nudge, yet enough to turn my view upside down. My back was on the cover, and Lugus was above me, so close I breathed in his breath, felt the tips of his hair sharp and bristly on my open neck. I welcomed it, every tickle, every sting, everything new I learned about him a gold coin for the trove of my memories. His hips were pressing down on me, and my head grew faint as my blood flew to his weight, giving focus to my yearning. I sank into the floor and entrusted myself to him. He stared at me.

"Your eye..."

In my excitement, I hadn't noticed the rush of warmth to my face. I raised my hand to hide the red that glowed there, but Lugus caught it and pushed it back.

"No. Remember. Everything you are..."

Then his lips were pressed to mine again. Their prior softness had been replaced by urgency. His breath grew shallow, his tongue parted my mouth. All subtlety gone, his fingers dug into my skirt. He tore it off me. I responded in kind, tugged at his clothes until he too was rid of them. I followed the scars on his arms with my hands, traced the design of his tattoos over the thin, wounded skin. He shivered and the corner of his eyes stuck to my movement, as far as he could, up to his shoulders. Then he lowered himself down, his warm stomach brushed against mine - and we both stopped.

He was embracing me. My hands were lying in the small of his back. His hips were pressed to mine, and I felt another part of him there, so close to my own desire that I guessed its purpose without being told. I caught my breath.

"What's next?" I asked.

His voice came out low and broken.

"Give me your hand." I brought my right hand to the front of his body and he caught it in his. He slid it down along his skin until it reached the coarse hair at the bottom of his stomach. He turned it over then and curled my fingers around his length. I felt him throb against me, an unfamiliar life that I loved at once and claimed as mine. I held him more firmly. He let out a moan. In retaliation, his hand, now free, found the source of my longing, and I melted at his shy touch. I threw my head back, cried out, and my legs kicked against his hips - but he didn't leave me, and my yearning only grew.

He touched me and I him, our eyes locked together, curious of each other's shape, of our reactions to minute changes in our caresses. Uncertain at first, soon I could distinguish how we answered each other; he found the spots that pleased me most, and I found his. When he grew tired of probing me outside, his fingers slipped inside me, and my hips rose in joy at his unusual presence. Encouraged, he spread and stroked me, and I opened up to him in earnest.

"Lugus..."

I called to him in a voice that did not sound like mine. His breath caught. Satisfied with his discoveries, he guided my hand away, so he could close the space between us.

He kissed me once more, and his serious eyes surveyed me.

"Together..." I whispered, and he understood. Our eyes, our hands, our legs found and clasped each other, joined up, braced in anticipation. "Eiar", he called to me, and held like this, at last, he made his way inside me.

His thick touch was like nothing I expected. It was much better and much worse, deep pain and infinite joy mingling, and I laughed and wept as I let him explore me, both of us existing only for each other, focused only on where we met. He grew more demanding as I grew accustomed to him. His hips pulled him out and sank him back inside me, until I learned the pattern and followed it like snow swept by a blizzard.

He paused to catch his breath, to wipe the sweat from his chin, and an impulse formed in my mind. I wanted to own him as he had owned me. I slid away from under him and pushed him down with a flick of my hand.

Surprised, he let himself fall, his hair spread around his face like a bright halo, dipped in red by the embers. I followed the curve of his parted lips, the stern line of his jaw, the sinews on his neck, joining above his broad chest. I would make it so that every part of him lived on in the abyss, that even when I stopped being, his image would hover over my absence. I locked my eyes onto his and never let them drop, as I sank onto him, took him back in me, and felt him rise up to meet me; a new dance to which we had always known the steps.

My movements free now, I noticed the pleas of my body and let my selfishness take over. I sought him out in the way that satisfied me most. A tight coil formed inside me around his touch. He took his cue from me. His grip firm on my hips, he thrust up, deep and fast, where I guided him.

I think I cried his name, again and again, until my head jingled and my voice broke, until my words became one long moan, my movements one long shiver, and my world drowned in a shallow abyss of elation. My nails dug into his shoulders, and he flipped us over again as I floated slowly to the surface, still occupied by him, filled by his pursuit of his own ending. When he trembled and fell onto me, I let my arms hug his back. I rocked him, my Lugus, my love, our cheeks wet with our sweat, with my tears.

Our legs tangled together, our embrace crushed our chests to each other, and lying face to face, lips close enough to touch, we fell into a fitful sleep.

I could not have dozed off for longer than an hour when I woke up. The embers of the fire were glowing low in the hearth, and the night chill raised goosebumps on my skin. In the half-light, I sought Lugus. Before I could find him, I felt the warmth of a cover thrown over me. I looked up.

He stood above me, limned on his left by the dark red of the hearth, on his right, by the pale blue of the winter moon. His hair glistened like the snowdrops he so loved. His skin, naked and still damp, was flushed at the neck, at the chest, at the hips. His scars wrapped around his arms like vines. His body was unfamiliar, but already it had become my province. With more time, how much could I learn about him? How close could we get? Could this scene ever grow so usual that the exquisite chill I felt at his view would recede? I didn't think so. He could never stop feeling both mine and other, both known and new. I imagined how our lives together would be. I imagined and held onto that dream.

He crouched next to me with a smile.

"No more sleep?" he asked. I raised my hand and caught a strand of his hair. He turned to kiss my palm, then put the tumbler of water in it. As I drank from it, he slid under the cover and snuggled up to me.

His head was lying by my elbow. He looked young then, much younger than the lord of the Hawks - a child still, lost in this big manor that was not meant for him - but his eyes had their usual mettle. He pulled on my shoulder and I fell into his arms.

"Enchant me, my witch. Tell me about us," he asked, as if he'd read my thoughts. "Tell me about our lives as the lord and lady of this town."

"Right. Because we fell in love, children of the beasts, that'll put an end to the strife. Next year, the snow will melt, and there'll be no more pain, no more fear. Wolves and Hawks will come together, and every day will be like the masquerade. We'll help each other out, laugh about small things, drink together at the tavern, and the town will be filled with joy."

"But our joy will be the greatest, for I will marry you."

My heart swelled at his words.

"You will. We'll learn our way around each other, work together, laugh together. And on the third day of spring, after the masquerade has passed, we'll stand under green boughs before the church, you and I. You'll hold my hands, and I will swear to love you forever."

He caught my hands and raised them to his chest.

"Like this?"

"Just like this."

"Then I will listen to your vow, and make mine in return."

His eyes turned solemn. They caught me in their depths, and I couldn't look away. His voice came out steady, each word slow and assured.

"Wherever you are, I will come to you. No matter how many times I lose you, I will find you again. All the lives we have left - I will live each one with you. I swear it by everything you've given me. Tomorrow is the last time I will let anything steal you away from me."

I knew he could not hold that promise, yet in that instant, I trusted him. Our gazes stuck together, I nodded.

"So you will."

His chest spread in relief, and he pressed me to it, held me in it as if to hide me from the world. For another hour, we stayed like that, awake, silent, unmoving, breathing in each other's skin.

Then it was time.

We pulled away at the same moment. Lugus got up and fetched my clothes from around the room. He pulled my shirt on for me, and before closing it, bent and kissed me on my heart - both marking me, I knew, and asking my forgiveness for what was to come.

"You are so much more, even, than I hoped you'd be," he said against my skin.

I caught his hands before they could leave, and held them in mine, a last indulgence. We looked at each other, a fleeting "what if" darkening both our faces - then it was gone. The moment of choice had already passed.

I turned away, found the rest of my clothes, pulled them on. I was about to pick up the wig from the floor, but Lugus, fully clothed, beat me to it.

"Let me."

He stood before me, and I found myself in his eyes, the boy named Jed, the woman named Eiar, the witch. All of them felt right when I saw them through him. Done with my hair, still, he let his hands linger on my cheeks.

"Eiar. One last time."

He pulled me close and kissed me, deeply, as deeply as the first time, when he didn't know me, as the second time, when he didn't have me; as he had a few hours ago, when we came together at last. His touch stoked a small fire in me, but we had no time to let it burn. Our arms fell away, our chests swelled with a deep breath. He took my hand again, and we left our love behind in this small wooden room, guarded by embers that would not blaze, by vines that would not flower.

It was still night outside. The air was cold and crisp, and it cut us apart like a knife of glass. We faced each other and bit back our words of parting, "I love you," "I love you too," a promise without future, without use for our already bound hearts.

Instead, Lugus bent over me and kissed my forehead.

"I'll come to fetch you in a few hours."

"I'll be ready."

I took a step away, tore myself from his warmth. Then I turned and walked, in slow strides, to my cell. I did not look back.

I found Hugh sitting in a corner, a nonchalant leg swinging over a knee. He gave me a bright smile, with a lack of surprise that would have embarrassed me in less extraordinary times.

"I'm sorry, I'm late." I looked away.

"Indeed, you're not. You're just in time for the last act, little witch. I have but one errand to run before the new day." He winked.

"For the story must come to its rightful end, or what sort of writer would I be?"

And with that, he was gone.