If she could—Morgan would not want to seduce Ian in such a despicable way. But... she was afraid. It was the kind of fear that made her feel a sense of loss and gain just by looking at him. The kind of fear where she felt that if she closed her eyes, she would never see him again upon opening them. So, she had to do something. She had to put herself in a sufficiently proactive position.
The Knights of the Round Table was the best choice. This... had to be right. In the mirror, looking at the still-hesitating Ian, Morgan quickly applied more pressure. "What's wrong? You don't understand what I mean? This isn't just for me. It's for you and Artoria too. Don't you want more powerful knights to join Artoria's command? The King of Britain having the most powerful knights, no matter how you think about it—"
"What about you?" Ian's sudden words made Morgan freeze. She looked up at him embracing her from behind. "Me?" "Mhm. You're always talking about how the Round Table should be, and how Artoria should be. What about yourself?" Ian lowered his head. The hot breath stirred up by Morgan's magecraft now assailed the princess of Britain in return. "Have you... never lived for yourself?" "I... for myself..." Morgan looked at her reflection in the mirror, her beautiful eyes widening slightly. She hadn't expected to be asked such a question at a time like this by the usually clueless Ian. She got to know Tiamat to get revenge on Artoria; she got involved with Ian to make Artoria regret; she could stay in her room for months without going out, poring over obscure ancient books just to find a possibility of saving the declining Britain; and now, wanting that from him was still because she didn't want Artoria to have a monopoly on power in Camelot with her Round Table. It seemed... she truly had never left even one ten-thousandth of her time for herself. Have I... just been lectured by this boy? But he's supposed to be an idiot. Morgan shook her head in disbelief. But—her heart was pounding so fast. If before she had only felt a sliver of indescribable joy from her revenge, then now, it was the sensation of touching a new life.
"Then what should I do? My Knight of the Round Table. How can I, as you say, live for myself for once?" "I don't know." Ian met Morgan's reflection in the mirror. "But I remember what you said—'Do what you want, don't hide yourself.' That is a real life, isn't it? Even if one is not a dragon, that should be possible, right?" "A life of doing whatever I want...?" Her own words came back to her like a boomerang. But Morgan found them to be so blissful. "That's right. I'll do whatever I want. I am the princess of Britain, no one can stop me!" As she said this, Morgan gripped the two hands that were embracing her waist. Why should I beg him? I'll do what I want! After entering this room that I spent so much effort on, can I really let him leave in one piece? To hell with the Round Table! To hell with Artoria! To hell with Britain! Those are not words to be said now, not excuses to be made. Tonight! I am simply doing this because I want to! If the mountain is unwilling to come to the water, then can't the water just go to the mountain? No more—thinking! I just want to be the first!
In the moonlight, the princess shut down her brain. Her body no longer moved like a sinuous snake, exuding waves of temptation. In its place was a more direct indulgence. Standing on one leg, she searched for a suitable position on his body. That's right. This spot right here. "Tonight, it's useless even if you beg for mercy—you're just a dragon, I'll definitely show you what I'm made of—"
Down— The princess made her move. A cloud happened to drift in front of the moon. The room lost its nightly white veil, leaving only the darkness of the night. Morgan began her bumpy solo dance. But soon, another dancer named Ian joined in. "Ngh—" "Ngh—!" "Ngh—!!" "Ngh—!!!" The princess's dance began to stutter, and from time to time, the low roar of a dragon could be heard as a backdrop. At first, the two were somewhat out of sync, like two completely different pieces of music. Then, the dragon's roar rose higher. The princess's voice, in contrast, became a mere whisper.
Finally, the dance was drawing to a close. A clear, beautiful voice traversed the night. The cloud that had been obscuring the moon finally passed. White light shone into the room, illuminating an exquisite scene. The no-longer-solitary princess was kissing the knight who was not her own. One of her feet was already on tiptoe, with only her toes lightly touching the ground, like a ballerina. And her other leg was stretched past her own head, pointing directly at the pitch-black ceiling. "Honestly—" Morgan looked at him holding her, her eyes filled with a bewitching charm. "Anyone else would have been crying by now, right? You dragon, you always like such strange things... Hmph. If it weren't for me, who else could bring you such pleasure?" "..." Ian was silent, merely demonstrating his power as a dragon. And as Morgan said this, her pupils widened slightly. "You... you... you..." Morgan buried her head in Ian's chest. She realized that what had just happened was merely the prelude to the play. Now... it was just beginning.
She leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Honestly... you have to be a little gentle..." But it was already too late. A dragon's actions are naturally based on the assumption that the other party is also a dragon. Therefore—it was neither something an ordinary person could comprehend, nor something an ordinary person could match. Especially not in a carefully laid trap like this.
But— What neither Morgan nor Ian knew was that as they were coming to understand each other, there was a Mélusine outside the door. The petite swordsman, eavesdropping against the door, had already forgotten how long she had been listening. She had originally just happened to see Ian walking this way and had followed him. She never expected that he and Morgan were... inside... And even though she had been listening for so long, it seemed like they were just getting started. It probably wouldn't end before dawn.
So this wasn't Artoria's lonely watch of love at all, but a decadent and chaotic royal court love affair? Mélusine felt like she was going mad. Why is it so messy?! How am I supposed to protect this?!
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