Chapter 5: Morgana
The candles had burned low by the time Morgana spoke again.
Her voice was soft in the darkness, muffled against Candice's shoulder where she'd pillowed her head. The mark on her lower back still glowed faintly, a golden ember in the shadows of the room.
"Move in with me."
Candice's eyes snapped open. She'd been drifting, hovering somewhere between sleep and waking, her body still humming with the aftershocks of their session. The words took a moment to register.
"What?"
"Move in." Morgana shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. Her purple hair fell in tangled waves over her shoulders, and in the dim light, she looked almost ethereal. Almost innocent. "You're here every night anyway. You might as well stay."
"No."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." Candice sat up, reaching for her clothes. "We've been over this. If I move in here, people will talk. They'll ask questions I can't answer."
"People already talk. You think they haven't noticed you sneaking through the back entrance every night? You think they haven't seen the way you look at me when you think no one's watching?"
"I'm careful."
"You're paranoid." Morgana sat up too, the sheets pooling around her waist. "And you're lying to yourself if you think the villagers give a shit about what you do. They don't care about you, Candice. They care about what you can do for them."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" Morgana's laugh was brittle. "When was the last time someone in this village asked how you were doing? When was the last time someone offered to help you, instead of asking you to help them?"
Candice pulled her shirt over her head, the fabric rough against her skin. "That's not—that's different. I'm the protector. That's my job."
"Your job." Morgana repeated the word like it was a curse. "Your job is to kill goblins and smile while they pile more expectations on your shoulders. Your job is to sacrifice everything for people who wouldn't lift a finger to save you if you were drowning."
"You don't know that."
"I know exactly that." Morgana reached out, her fingers brushing Candice's wrist. "I've lived it. I was born here, same as you. I grew up with these people. I played with their children, helped their mothers with chores, went to their festivals. And the moment I did something they didn't approve of—the moment I was honest about who I was—they threw me out like garbage."
Candice flinched. She remembered that day. She'd been there, standing at the edge of the crowd, watching as Elder Marcus declared Morgana unclean, unholy, a corruption that needed to be purged. She hadn't spoken up. She hadn't defended her friend.
She'd been a coward.
"They didn't throw you out," she said quietly. "They just... they were scared. They didn't understand."
"They called me a whore. They said I was poisoning the youth, corrupting the village with my sin. They said I deserved whatever happened to me." Morgana's voice had gone flat, emotionless. "And you stood there and watched."
The words hit Candice like a physical blow. She wanted to argue, to defend herself, to explain that she'd been young, that she'd been afraid, that she hadn't known what to do. But those were excuses, and they both knew it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I know you are. That's not the point." Morgana released her wrist and leaned back against the pillows. "The point is that I'm not going to pretend anymore. I'm not going to be ashamed of what I am, or what I do, or who I fuck. And if you want to keep living in that village, playing the perfect hero, pretending you're not one of the monsters they're so afraid of..."
"I'm not a monster."
"You have a Succubus Mark. You feed on lust. You gain power by fucking me." Morgana raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you think they'd call you if they found out?"
Candice didn't answer. She couldn't.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Outside, the wind howled through the streets of Succi, rattling the windowpanes and carrying the distant sound of... something. Wolves, maybe. Or something worse.
Morgana sighed and reached for her robe. The silk whispered against her skin as she pulled it on, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was almost deliberate.
"I'm not trying to trap you," she said, tying the sash at her waist. "I'm not trying to drag you down or corrupt you or whatever narrative you've built in your head. I just..."
She trailed off, her gaze fixed on something in the middle distance.
"You just what?"
"I just don't want to be alone anymore." The confession came out raw, stripped of its usual armor. Morgana laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "Pathetic, right? The village whore, begging for company. But there it is. I've spent six years in this brothel, surrounded by people, and I've never been more alone in my life."
Candice felt her chest tighten. She knew that loneliness. She'd felt it every day since she'd awakened Lilith, every night she'd crept back to her empty house and stared at the ceiling until dawn.
"You're not alone," she said. "You have me."
"Only when you need something. Only when the hunger gets too strong and you can't stand it anymore." Morgana's eyes met hers, and there was something fierce in them, something wounded. "And I know that's all I am to you. A tool. A means to an end. You made that perfectly clear the first time you came here."
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" Morgana took a step closer. "You came to me because you needed help. You stayed because you needed relief. You fuck me every night because you need power. But the moment you walk out that door, you go back to being the honorable hero, and I go back to being the dirty secret you're ashamed of."
"I never said I was ashamed of you."
"You didn't have to. I can see it in your eyes. Every time you look at me, there's a part of you that's disgusted. A part of you that still believes all those things they said about me, all those lies they told about how I'm impure and unclean and unworthy."
Candice's hands clenched at her sides. "I never believed them."
"Bullshit." The word cut through the air like a blade. "You believed them for six years. You didn't speak to me. You didn't visit me. You didn't do a single thing to help me when I was lying in the street, bleeding, half-dead, after the village guards beat me for walking on the wrong side of the road."
"I didn't know—"
"You knew. Everyone knew. And you chose to look the other way because it was easier. Because it was simpler. Because helping me would have meant admitting that the village wasn't perfect, that the elders weren't always right, that your precious system had failed."
Morgana's voice cracked, and she turned away, pressing her palms against the dresser.
"I'm sorry," Candice said again, and the words felt useless, hollow.
"You keep saying that."
"Because I mean it."
"Then prove it." Morgana turned back, her eyes glistening. "Not with words. With actions. Move in with me. Stay here. Let me be something more than a transaction."
"I can't."
"You won't."
"I can't." Candice stood too, reaching for her sword belt. "If I move in here, the village will find out. They'll find out about the mark, about the Lust Mana, about everything. They'll condemn me the way they condemned you."
"Good."
"What?"
Morgana crossed her arms. "I said good. Let them find out. Let them condemn you. Let them show the entire world what they really are."
"That's insane. I'd lose everything."
"What would you lose? Your position? Your reputation? The respect of people who don't actually respect you?" Morgana stepped closer, her voice dropping. "What would you actually lose, Candice? Because from where I'm standing, you'd lose a whole lot of chains."
Candice opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn't come. Because Morgana was right. The village didn't respect her—they feared her. They didn't care about her—they cared about what she could do for them. They didn't love her—they loved the idea of her, the perfect protector, the hero they could point to and say, This is what we stand for.
"The goblins are getting worse," she said quietly. "The barrier is failing. If I leave, who's going to protect them?"
"Don't do that. Don't use them as an excuse to keep hurting yourself."
"It's not an excuse. It's the truth."
"If you died tomorrow, they'd replace you within a week. They'd find some other mage, some other desperate soul, and they'd pile the same expectations on their shoulders. They'd chew them up and spit them out the same way they're doing to you." Morgana reached out, her fingers brushing Candice's cheek. "But I wouldn't replace you. I couldn't. You're not just an adventurer to me, Candice. You're not just a power source. You're..."
She hesitated, and the vulnerability in her expression made Candice's breath catch.
"You're my friend," Morgana finished. "Or at least, you were. Before all of this. Before the village and the mark and the bullshit. I don't know what we are now, exactly, but I know I don't want to lose you. Not again."
The tears came before Candice could stop them. She didn't cry—she never cried—but the tears went streaming down her face, and she couldn't stop them. Morgana pulled her close, and she went willingly, burying her face in her shoulder, shaking with the force of emotions she'd suppressed for years.
"I'm sorry," she said for the third time, and this time she meant it with everything she had. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have said something. I should have..."
"Shh." Morgana's hand stroked her hair. "It's okay. It's okay."
"It's not okay. I let them hurt you. I let them destroy your life, and I didn't do anything."
"You were young. You were scared."
"That's not an excuse."
"No. It's not." Morgana pulled back, cupping Candice's face in her hands. "But here's the thing—I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. I was angry, and hurt, and lonely, and I wanted you to suffer the way I was suffering. But I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped hoping you'd come back."
"I should have come back sooner."
"You're here now." Morgana wiped the tears from Candice's cheeks with her thumbs. "That's what matters."
Candice leaned into her touch, her eyes closing. "I don't deserve you."
"Probably not. But you're stuck with me anyway."
A laugh bubbled up in Candice's chest, unexpected and raw. She opened her eyes, and the world seemed softer than it had a moment before.
"You're a real piece of work," she said.
"I know."
"And you're pushy, and stubborn, and you don't know when to shut up."
"Also true."
"And you fuck like a demon."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Candice shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You're impossible."
"And yet you can't stay away from me." Morgana stepped back, loosening her robe. "You want to stay the night? No pressure. Just... stay."
Candice looked at her—really looked at her. At the purple hair and the golden eyes and the smile that had haunted her dreams for six years. At the mark on her lower back that glowed faintly in the darkness. At the scars on her body that told a story of pain and survival.
She wanted her.
She'd always wanted her.
"Okay," she said.
Morgana's eyebrows shot up. "Okay?"
"I'll move in."
"Wait, really?"
"Really." Candice took a breath. "The mark is going to be a problem either way. The longer I stay in the village, the more likely it is that someone finds out. If I'm going to be condemned anyway, I might as well be condemned for something that makes me happy."
Morgana's face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds. She grabbed Candice and kissed her, hard and fierce, and Candice kissed her back, her hands tangling in her hair, her body pressing against hers.
"I will make you so happy," Morgana murmured against her lips. "I promise."
"You'd better."
The kiss deepened, and Morgana pulled her toward the bed, her fingers working at the buttons of Candice's shirt. There was a frantic energy between them now, a different kind of hunger than the desperate need of the nights before. This was something else—a claiming, a promise, a leap into the unknown.
"Do you want to do it?" Morgana asked. "Right now?"
"I want you."
"How do you want me?"
Candice thought about it. For once, she didn't think about the hunger or the mark or the Lust Mana. She thought about what she actually wanted.
"I want to taste you," she said.
Morgana grinned. "Now we're talking."
She stripped off her robe and pushed Candice onto the bed, straddling her hips. Candice's hands found her waist, her fingers digging into the soft curves of her skin.
"Stop being so smug," Candice said.
"Never."
She grabbed Morgana and flipped her over, pinning her to the mattress, and Morgana's laugh turned into a gasp as Candice kissed her way down her body. She bit at Morgana's neck, her collarbone, the curve of her breast. Morgana writhed beneath her, her breathing growing ragged.
"Please," she whispered. "Please, Candice."
Candice didn't tease her. For once, she didn't want to. She continued her path downward until her mouth was where it needed to be, and Morgana's hips bucked as her tongue found her. Candice held her hips down and licked into her—slow and intentional. She tasted like salt and musk and something sweeter underneath, and Candice moaned against her.
"Oh, fuck, Candice—"
Candice knew what she was doing. She'd learned a lot in the past month. She sucked, and licked, and pressed her tongue inside her, and Morgana came apart beneath her like wet paper, crying out and grasping at the sheets.
"That was—" Morgana panted. "That was—"
"I'm not done yet."
Candice crawled back up and kissed her, letting her taste herself on her lips. Then she reached for the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out the harness. She strapped it on with practiced ease, and returned to Morgana, positioning herself between her legs.
"You ready?"
"Yes," Morgana said, her eyes dark with want. "Fuck me. Hard."
Candice thrust into her in one smooth motion, drawing a scream from Morgana's lips. She didn't bother with gentleness. She pounded into her, grunting with effort, her hips slapping against Morgana's flesh.
"Yes, yes, fuck, yes—"
"You like that?"
"I love it, I love it, don't stop—"
"I'm not stopping."
She gripped Morgana's hips hard enough to bruise, driving deeper and faster. Sweat beaded on her skin and her thighs burned, but she didn't slow down. She poured all of her frustration and fear and need into every thrust.
"Come for me," she growled.
Morgana obeyed. Her scream tore through the room, and her body clenched hard around the cock inside her. Candice kept moving, riding the wave until Morgana collapsed. She pulled out—a slick, wet sound—then dove between her legs again, cleaning her with her tongue.
"Too much," Morgana whimpered, trying to squirm away.
"Too bad."
Candice licked her until she came again, a smaller, shakier orgasm. Only then did she sit back, wiping her face, her chest heaving. Morgana lay there, looking utterly wrecked.
"I think," she said, when she could speak, "that I'm going to need a minute."
"Take your time."
Candice lay down beside her, and they tangled together, sticky and spent. The candles had died. The room was dark. And for the first time in years, Candice felt something other than alone.
"I'm still going to kill goblins tomorrow," she said into the darkness.
"I know."
"And I'm still going to complain about it."
"I know."
"I'm going to be a terrible housemate."
Morgana laughed, cuddling close to her. "I know."