Lying on the couch, Burn gazed at the ceiling. Silence wrapped around him and Morgan like an old, comfortable blanket, a cramped cocoon on the couch, especially for a man of his stature.

She lay on him, her forehead nestled in the crook of his neck while he looked expressionless, almost emotionless, as he traced lazy circles on her back with his thumb, arms wrapped around her.

“I will never let you do something like that again,” Morgan suddenly whispered.

Burn snorted, a dry amusement escaping him.

“I’m serious. I’ll conjure a self-destruct spell in case something like that happens again to spare you from—”

“Sssshhh,” he coaxed, squeezing her closer. “Fucking hell.”

If that happened again, he’d prefer to take it into his own hands.

“You thought seeing you self-destruct is better than killing you? It’s the fucking same. At least with me doing it, you’ll be in my arms. Like this,” he whispered.

After all, why let her have all the fun with neck-slitting stunts? It was just as soul-crushing either way, but at least with him pulling the trigger, she’d be in his embrace. Warm. Gentle. Like her.

Watching her self-destruct over the three-year loops was enough. One of those resets featured her head exploding in a brilliant display—truly a funeral to remember.

Those initial moments filled with irritation, then necessity, had morphed painfully into something resembling agony. Returning to that state of mind where her self-immolation felt pragmatic rather than tragic was like trying to put a broken puzzle together—it just wouldn’t fit.

“Still haven’t read my memory yet?” Burn asked.

Morgan shook her head. “I will do it after this. There’s still time.”

How could someone like her exist at all? A paradox wrapped in compassion, knowing what was best for him—not just the situation at hand or what was merely practical.

Even her gesture of prolonging her ignorance to the whole emotional rollercoaster, to delay delving into the emotional wreckage of the past—future two to three days was enough to comfort him.

At least she gave him some space to calm himself, sitting in the quiet rubble of his thoughts. To mourn in the privacy of his own mind.

It was almost as if she was giving him time to decide which memory he allowed her to see and which thoughts were too gruesome he might not have wanted to show her. Selecting which he’d reveal and which twisted fragments he’d keep buried. Almost like letting someone choose their poison.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Just before, he thought against manipulating her by choosing which memory to show her, but now she deliberately let him do it, handing him the reins.

She was giving him a choice.

“Have you taught me how to give head?”

COUGH—!

Burn nearly choked.

“You have, huh?” Morgan asked. “Can you only show me the segment where you enlighten me?”

Burn’s lips twitched. “Is that the pinnacle of your curiosity right now?”

“I mean, I’m sure the others are equally important, but I’m not in the mood to find out now,” Morgan said.

The man contained his laughs, his chest rumbling warmly below her, making her smile, reminding her she could still coax smiles from him. It meant, after all, that he hadn’t changed too much.

More than the memory of the future, be it the assembly, the moon, or those pesky outsiders, or even the enigmatic circumstances of her demise, he was the most important—

…

…

…

So, here we found ourselves.

More than the world. More than the future. More than the people and the flourishing cast of characters in her life, this man had bestowed upon her the audacity of selfishness. Stunned into silence, for the first time since her creation, she pondered the rather ludicrous notion of living forever—with him, no less.

He granted her—an eternal being trapped in a, dare she say, mundane mortal shell—a fear of death.

She no longer wanted to die.

Not even Merlin, who saved her from the cycle of death and rebirth—not even her comrades who fought alongside her, and not even Yvain, her beloved disciple, was able to give her a reason to choose life, to cling to that thread of existence—

Simply looking at the wreckage of this man’s heart after seeing her death, she now feared the very notion of leaving him alone in this plane of existence.

Two days' worth of memory deleted, and yet he mourned. Her death this time was only worth two days of her entire immortal life—yet he mourned.

A death solely designed to continue the curse—a death deleted by the curse itself.

Thus he mourned because he could only share it with her, and no one else. Her death no one remembered but himself. Her death only he would mourn.

“Caliburn,” Morgan rose, casting a glance at him lying on the couch. “You’ve mentioned I’ve built some muscle these past weeks in Inkia, right?”

“Mm,” Burn replied. “You can do seven push-ups now.”

“Think I could try Force training now?”

Burn blinked. Suddenly?

Morgan had never truly cared about hanging onto life. Even with a body possessing zero Force talent and unable to lift its own weight sometimes, she had little concern for her mere mortal vessel. Her soul would usually manage that little inconvenience.

But now, with a desire to stick around forever with him, Morgan wanted a fix—and she wanted it fast. Leisurely training? Forget it. She wanted to be a master tomorrow if the universe permitted.

If she got strong enough, he wouldn’t have to bear that much burden anymore, right? She wouldn’t need to die so often—wouldn't be required to jump in front of danger so much.

She would live.

And then…

“One day… I want to have a biological child with you,” Morgan stated, her voice steady.

Truthfully, her body was still a glorious mess. No menstrual cycle. One might say—a real festival of chaos. Her organs were clinging to life support like they were at a support group, and without her infinite soul, she’d be stuck walking like a newborn deer on ice.

What kind of future was she dreaming of with him? What sort of eternal life did she want to share?

But unbeknownst to her, underneath her, Burn was speechless. Maybe being blasted by meteorites wouldn’t have this much effect on him.

Swallowing, the man’s visage darkened.

“Is this… provocation?”

She just asked him to show her the memory of when he taught her about giving head, and now she suddenly asked to have a child with him?

“Morgan Le Fay…” Burn coldly ordered, “Let’s test your endurance.”

Morgan cowered. “Not stamina…?”

“I won’t stop even when you cry this time.”