Nightfall by the Lakeside.
The spirits who had gifted the sword were gone. Morgan lay quietly in Ian's arms, her mood slowly calming.
"I'm fine now," she whispered.
"No. You're not," Ian said softly, still holding her.
"You're still hurt. So just… stay still, okay?"
His tone was firm, but gentle.
Morgan felt like a child being comforted—and to her surprise, she didn't mind it.
Resting her head on his strong chest, she became unusually quiet, content to be held.
"Sorry. Did I seem crazy back there?"
"A little," Ian replied bluntly.
Morgan glared. "Would it hurt to lie once in a while?"
"I don't want to lie to you," Ian said, gently placing a hand on her chest—not roughly, not greedily, just… thoughtfully.
Unlike past moments when he'd acted purely out of hunger or instinct, this time it was different.
He wasn't taking—he was showing care, with a kind of warmth that made Morgan feel wanted.
Her breath caught.
The sensation was electric, sending tingles through her body.
"What are you doing…?" she muttered, turning her face away to hide her fluster.
"If you're hungry, then do it yourself. Don't expect me to feed you like a spoiled brat."
No sooner had she said that than Ian lifted her off the ground—and into the air.
In an instant, he'd taken dragon form, carrying her on his back.
"Rrrrraaaah!"
With a mighty roar, the black dragon soared into the night sky.
Morgan's first thought: He's mad?! Just because I won't hand it over?
But she quickly realized—he wasn't flying fast.
He was gliding, leisurely, drifting through the starlit sky of Britain.
He circled gently, never descending.
Eventually, Morgan caught on.
"You…"
"You're showing me the stars, aren't you?"
The dragon's wings gave a slow, deliberate flap—an answer.
Morgan lay back on his scales, gazing up.
The stars sparkled above like diamonds scattered across velvet. Their reflections filled her eyes.
How long has it been since I looked at the stars like this?
One year? Three years?
Or was it ever since she realized she'd never inherit the throne?
Tears welled in her eyes, uninvited.
"You idiot…"
"Were you trying to make me cry on purpose?"
---
Time passed.
Eventually, they landed once more.
Morgan stepped off his back, ready to speak—but Ian pushed her down gently to the forest floor.
As before, she felt his powerful grasp.
"I'm thirsty…" he murmured, voice rough.
He bent low, his touch urgent, though still restrained.
This time, it was more intense.
Morgan could tell: he was hungrier than before. But still, he stopped short of hurting her—though one spot, constantly tugged, was definitely sore.
Morgan didn't scold him at all.
Even though she had been treated like food and ravaged, she ended up comforting the agitated dragon.
"Don't rush."
"Take it slow. I'm right here—"
Finally, after being bitten several times, Ian was finally full.
"Tastes better and better."
"Princess, you're becoming more delicious."
"I told you, just call me neesan when we're alone—"
Morgan wrapped her arms around Ian's neck.
"And the starry sky is beautiful."
"I really like it."
"So even though you were a bit too rough today, I forgive you."
As she said this, Morgan tilted her head up and kissed Ian on his slightly flavorful lips.
To be honest, it was a little hard to accept.
After all, what he had just been chewing on was entirely her.
But—
He didn't really dislike it.
And besides...
The more he did this, the more excited a certain little dragon became.
Splurt-Splurt—
Bubbles rose from the lake.
Feeling the familiar warmth, Morgan sighed.
"Seriously…"
"You waste it outside every single time."
"When will I ever get a proper meal?"
"When Artoria becomes a king worthy of Britannia."
Ian lifted the little dragon resting in the bay of Morgan's stomach.
"Princess, I promise you."
"Her again…"
Even though she already knew the answer, Morgan still felt annoyed every time she heard it.
"Are you trying to force me to help her?"
"That's not what I mean."
"I just think… it's her wish."
Ian looked at Morgan.
"If it doesn't come true, it'd be a shame."
"…"
Morgan stayed quiet for a moment, then smiled.
"Then what if I said my wish is to become the King of Britannia? What would you do?"
"…"
Ian didn't answer. He simply looked down at himself.
And Morgan instantly understood.
This guy… was switching sides again.
If Artoria wanted to become a king accepted by all, he would give his strength to Morgan;
On the other hand, if Morgan wanted to be Britannia's ruler, then he'd switch over to Artoria…
She lightly tap his little Ian, which was impossible for her to damage anyway.
"Not allowed."
"If you dare give her any of this stuff, I'll rebel."
"Not even a drop."
"I mean it."
"Really?"
"Mhm—"
Morgan gazed at the starry sky behind the boy.
"Tonight, I feel like I suddenly understand a lot."
"Have you always been like this with Artoria, giving her visions or revelations?"
"Forget it, I don't want to hear your answer."
Morgan hugged Ian.
Their bodies once again trapped something between them.
"Let's just sleep like this tonight—"
"Tomorrow."
"You're going to take Excalibur Morgan and tear through those knights of Camelot for me!"
"They dare question my chosen one? How insolent!"
[Note: Apparently, Someone has already translated this. He is pretty advance and has already posted 50+ chapters. So I decided to drop this and leave this project to him considering he has been posting for weeks while I've only started translating this yesterday. So if you want the continuation of this fic, go check him out.
His version: Tiamat, I'm Going to Find a Girlfriend!]