Chapter 54: Chapter 54. You Are Her Only Throne
Chapter 54. You Are Her Only Throne
"So be it, Princess. Please allow me to accompany you," Ian replied calmly.
"Ian."
Morgan gazed at the man before her, the one who had endured countless hardships for her sake.
"It is daytime now."
"Do you know what that means?"
"Of course." Ian smiled faintly. "I am the foolish husband coveting your throne, while you are the wise wife trying to stop her husband from crossing the line."
"If someone discovers us, the one condemned to death will be 'King Lot,' while the Princess who protects King Uther's honor will be praised."
"Ian, you're as foolish as ever."
Morgan tightened her grip on Ian's hand.
"Do you really want Gawain to lose his father so soon?"
"Then, Princess, shall we—"
"Silence." Morgan placed Ian's hand against her chest.
"You are mine. Wherever I go, you must follow."
[You gazed tenderly at Morgan, saying no more.]
[Even so, the situation wasn't dire.]
[For your and Morgan's status had long reached a level where no one dared to question you.]
[Thus, walking deeper into the royal palace like this raised no suspicion.]
[The two of you moved along a corridor neither entirely unfamiliar nor entirely familiar, passing door after door.]
[You stopped in front of that colossal door.]
[Behind it lay the throne, symbolizing Camelot's authority.]
[You recalled the last time—Morgan had hesitated, unsure whether to push this door open.]
[You had been ready to shoulder everything and open it for her.]
[But this time—Morgan stopped you.]
"Ian, let me do it myself."
Morgan stayed Ian's hand.
Under his attentive gaze, her hand slowly approached the door.
With a creak—
Morgan exerted light pressure, and the door, symbolizing the king's authority and separating everything, slowly opened.
She took Ian's hand, and together, one leading and one following, they stepped into the chamber.
[The grand door opened once more.]
[However, this time, you were on the behind of the door, witnessing the scene unfold.]
[The door slowly closed, cutting off the path between the inside and the outside.]
[You knew that from this moment on, some matters would spiral into greater madness.]
[Yet, you felt no fear.]
[Because you understood that all of it was exactly what Morgan needed.]
Morgan walked step by step toward the throne.
Her graceful footsteps echoed like the chime of fateful bells in the grand hall, where only the two of you existed.
She stopped before the throne, gently running her hand along its gilded armrest. In her deep, ocean-blue eyes resided an unyielding obsession for it.
"Ian, do you like this throne?"
"Princess, would you prefer the truth or a lie?"
"Do you think you dare lie in my presence?"
"You're right, Princess," Ian replied, his tone still gentle.
"In that case—"
"I must say, this throne doesn't suit you."
"What?"
Morgan was about to turn her head and question Ian's reasoning when she suddenly felt her entire body lifted off the ground.
In an instant, Ian seated himself upon the throne.
As for Morgan, she maintained her elegance.
Her head rested on Ian's left hand, her long hair wrapping around his arm. Her body, arched gracefully like a bow, nestled into his embrace.
The royal cloak slipped down to her waist, yet not a single strand of it touched the ground.
Her long, slender legs, pale and delicate, formed the lower arc of the bow.
Her knees bent slightly, her calves rested perfectly on Ian's right hand.
Her feet, suspended in midair, were adorned with transparent crystal shoes.
"Because I think, Princess, you deserve a new throne."
"Oh—?"
Morgan, lying in Ian's arms, tilted her head to look up at him.
"So, before that happens, do you truly wish to become my throne?"
"Princess, it doesn't sound like a bad idea."
"In that case—"
Morgan lifted her hand, gently caressing his face, one she knew so well it was impossible to forget.
"You know, as my throne, you must figure out how to please me in this situation, don't you?"
"Princess, that's quite the challenging task."
"But—"
"I just happen to have a solution for it."
Ian lowered his head, pausing just before Morgan's proud chest.
"But I hope the Princess can assist me a little."
"Oh, really?"
Morgan gently traced the not-so-smooth contours of Ian's face with one hand while her other hand rested on the fabric covering his chest.
Her fingers drew light circles on the finely tailored, luxurious material.
"Ian, I hope you won't disappoint me."
[The royal form of the Princess was always flawless, no matter the time or place.]
[As you held her in your arms, you suddenly felt as though you were transported back to the days of old.]
[Morgan's arms wrapped around your neck.]
[She lay nestled in your embrace, her gaze intoxicating, with her ocean-blue eyes reflecting only your image.]
[Her breathing gradually became more rapid under the intensity of your gaze, her body subtly moving.]
[She panted softly, looking up at the ceiling, her lips murmuring your name.]
["Ian, make me a little happier."]
[At that moment, you were her one and only throne.]
[And she was the sole princess you could ever treasure.]
[You kept your promise.]
"Your solution to this matter is as excellent as always," Morgan said, her finger brushing against Ian's lips, gently wiping away a trace of moisture.
"Ian, tell me, do you enjoy this?"
"Of course," Ian replied with a calm smile and a nod.
"Anything involving the Princess brings me nothing but joy."
"But—"
Ian's eyes swept over Morgan's elegant figure from head to toe.
"Princess, I suspect you didn't bring this up just to share these sentiments, did you?"
"Indeed," Morgan replied, placing her hand over Ian's, which had started moving closer.
"Ian, I want to truly take over Camelot."
"Princess, do you think you'll gain my approval this way?"
"Perhaps that would be unnecessary."
Ian gazed at Morgan lying in his arms, her face slightly flushed and her breath no longer steady.
"You must know, Princess, I've never doubted your choices. It's the path I am destined to follow."
"I know that."
Morgan gripped Ian's hand tighter, her nails pressing into his skin and leaving faint marks.
"That's why I have no intention of asking for your permission."
"I simply enjoy seeing you eager to please me on my father's throne."
"Understood. It seems I'll have to try even harder."
[Once again, on the king's throne, the two of you indulged in your passions.]
[Afterward, you devised a plan to take over Camelot—using magecraft to fabricate an attack from a barbarian tribe. You would then emerge as the heroes who saved Camelot, justifying your ascension to the throne.]
[The process was far from simple, requiring meticulous preparation and an extended timeline.]
[Yet, fate seemed to take pleasure in mocking you.]
[Before your preparations were complete, a mysterious prophecy began to spread across Camelot's streets and avenues.]
[It was a legend about the Red Dragon and its connection to the inheritance of the throne.]