If she could—
Morgan truly did not want to use such a despicable method to tempt Ian.
But...
She was scared.
It was the kind of fear where just looking at him gave her a feeling of impending loss.
The kind where if she closed her eyes, she felt that when she opened them again, she would never see him again.
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, this had to be right.
In the mirror, looking at the still-hesitant Ian, Morgan quickly applied more pressure.
"What's wrong?"
"Don't you understand what I mean?"
"This isn't just for me. It's for you and Artoria too."
"Don't you want more powerful Knights of the Round Table to join Artoria?"
"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 for a moment.
She looked up at him, the one holding her from behind.
"Me?"
"Mm."
"You're always talking about the Round Table, and about Artoria."
"What about yourself?"
Ian lowered his head.
The heat stirred up by Morgan's magecraft now turned back to assault the princess of Britain.
"Have you... never lived for yourself?"
"I..."
"Lived for myself..."
Morgan stared at her reflection in the mirror, her beautiful eyes widening slightly.
She never expected to be asked such a question by the usually simple-minded Ian at a time like this.
Wanting revenge on Artoria, she had sought out Tiamat;
Wanting to make Artoria regret, she had gotten involved with Ian;
For the sake of Britain, she could stay in her room for months on end, poring over obscure ancient books, just to find a possibility of saving it from decline;
And now, wanting that from him was still because she didn't want Artoria to have a monopoly on power in Camelot with the Round Table.
It seemed...
She truly had not left even one ten-thousandth of her time for herself.
To be lectured by this guy?
But he's supposed to be an idiot.
Morgan shook her head in disbelief.
But—
Her heart was beating so fast.
If before, it was just a sliver of indescribable joy derived from 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 said, live for myself for once?"
"I don't know."
Ian's gaze met Morgan's in the mirror.
"But I remember what you said—"
"You said, 'Do whatever you want, don't hide yourself'."
"That is a real life, isn't it?"
"Even if you're not a dragon, that's still possible, right?"
"Do whatever I want?"
Her own words came back to her like a boomerang.
But Morgan found it to be so blissful.
"That's right."
"I'll do whatever I want."
"I am the Princess of Britain, no one can stop me!"
Saying this, Morgan grabbed the two hands Ian had wrapped around her waist.
Why did she have to beg him?
She would do whatever she wanted!
Now that he was in this room she had spent who knows how much effort on, could she really let him leave in one piece?
To hell with the Knights of the Round Table!
To hell with Artoria!
To hell with Britain!
Those were not things to be said now, not excuses to be made.
Tonight!
She simply wanted to do this!
If the mountain won't come to the water, then the water can go to the mountain, can't it?
No more—
Thinking!
I just want to be the first!
In the moonlight, the princess shut off her brain. Her body no longer writhed like a snake, exuding waves of temptation.
In its place was a more direct indulgence.
Standing on one foot, she sought a suitable position on his body.
Yes.
This was the place.
"Tonight, not even your begging will save you—"
"You're just a mere dragon, I'll definitely show you what I'm made of—"
Falling—
The princess made her attack.
A cloud happened to drift in front of the moon.
The room was stripped of the night's white veil, leaving only the darkness of the night.
Morgan began her solo of a jarring, bumpy dance.
But soon, another dancer by the name of Ian joined in.
"Mmph—"
"Mmph—!"
"MMPH—!!"
"MMPH—!!!"
The princess's dance tune became intermittent, with the low roar of a dragon occasionally heard as a backdrop.
At first, the two were somewhat out of sync.
Like two completely different pieces of music.
Then, the dragon's cry rose higher.
The princess's voice, in contrast, became an insignificant aside.
Finally, the dance was about to end.
A clear and beautiful voice ran rampant in the night.
The cloud obscuring the moon finally passed.
White light shone into the room, illuminating a breathtaking scene.
No longer dancing alone, the princess was kissing the knight who did not belong to her.
One of her feet was on tiptoe, only the toes lightly touching the ground, like a ballerina.
Her other leg was stretched past her head, pointing directly at the dark ceiling.
"Honestly—"
Morgan looked at him holding her, a seductive charm in her eyes.
"Anyone else would have started crying by now, right?"
"You dragon, you always like such strange things..."
"Heh."
"If it weren't for me, who else could bring you such pleasure?"
"..."
Ian said nothing.
He only continued to display his power as a dragon.
And as she spoke, Morgan's 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:
"Really..."
"You have to be a little gentler..."
But it was already too late.
A dragon's actions are, naturally, based on the assumption that its partner is also a dragon.
Therefore—
It was beyond what a normal person could imagine, and beyond what a normal person could match.
Especially in such a carefully laid trap.
But—
What neither Morgan nor Ian knew was.
At the moment they were coming to know each other, there was a Mélusine outside the door.
The petite swordswoman, eavesdropping at the door, had already forgotten how long she'd 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 though she had been listening for so long, it seemed like it had only just begun.
They probably wouldn't finish before dawn.
So this wasn't Artoria's lonely vigil of love at all, but a decadent and messy royal court of love?
Mélusine felt like she was going crazy.
Why was it so messy?!
How was she supposed to protect this?!