Arthur sat up in bed rather suddenly. His sleep disrupted once again by the thoughts of that mysterious woman he had coupled with. He wished to know her name more than anything. He had been the god and she the goddess that very evening.
Their love went deep, deeper than he ever thought possible, deep beyond all reason. It had only been one night, yes, but that one night he would carry with him forever. His body was thick with emotion as he remembered the innocence he had seen in her eyes.
He hadn't seen her face, just her eyes behind the mask. The mask of the virgin. The mask of the only woman he would ever love. Gwenhwyfar was his queen, truly, but the woman from the Beltane rituals was the owner of his heart.
He would throw away everything he had, even Camelot, for that woman. Arthur paused. Was he really that willing to see her again? To give up everything, even his own people, for love? Arthur thought on the question for a moment but the truth was, he already knew the answer. He always had.
He lay back down and Gwenhwyfar barely stirred. Arthur was deep in thought now. He could remember everything about that night: the rhythm that was being pounded into the drums, the hunt for the deer, even every little painting on the woman's body.
His heart quickened pace as his thoughts turned quickly to their lovemaking: the passion, the force, the feeling of it being so right and yet so unknown all at once. He had begged Merlin to see that woman again and he had declined. He had said he was only meant to know that woman once.
It shattered Arthur's heart, even now, years later. Arthur's desire for her was great. He didn't know the woman's true identity but what he did know was that he understood a part of her better than anybody. She too knew a part of him better than anybody.