Just like the first ti her heart fluttered.
Even after so long, it has never changed.
The intermittent spring-like surge of emotion, intoxicated and sweetened by the words of the man before her.
Slowly, she leans into his embrace.
The two lovers convey their feelings to each other.
"However, the only one who might feel sorry in this process is Guinevere, who is to beco the Queen."
"It can't be helped. Sir Agravain and the others don't know the truth. They all an well in wanting to marry, and the people wish for it too, so this is also a necessary choice to maintain Britain."
"Well, that's true."
Moran and Artoria understand.
A King on the throne must make a trade-off.
"I will tell Guinevere the truth. After that, if necessary, we'll have rlin use illusions. I hope it doesn't co to that."
[Artoria has already thought it through]
[Although it may be unfair for Guinevere, she values Moran and Britain's future more]
"But in the end, the reason they want to marry is also to ensure the King's bloodline."
"Artoria, what, are you already thinking about an heir?"
Moran gently brushes Artoria's golden hair.
And with it, flashes a charming smile.
This mischievous smile makes her blush, but it also holds value for further contemplation.
"If Britain is to continue, then this is sothing I must consider. Although I have the protection of the Holy Sword and will not age, I will still abdicate when the ti is right."
"So, what kind of heir do you want? Or rather, how do you want your heir to be born?"
"Hmm, um—Moran... you're teasing again!"
[Artoria is stirred by this topic]
[Her heart pounds at the light touch of his fingers]
[Then, slowly, bit by bit, like falling into the sky, she feels the breeze of the wind]
[This is a space only for the two of them]
[In a place where no one else can enter, the two playfully convey their feelings to each other]
[Up, down, more unpredictable than leaves]
[More light than swallows]
[As if tracing the contour of the full moon, and the starry sky ocean they have traversed side by side until now]
"What I desire is... your child..."
Artoria's face burned like hot iron.
She exhaled a breath that carried the intoxicating fragrance of orchids.
Her maternal instincts had awakened this longing, and Moran, who embodied paternal qualities, would not let her down.
He would fulfill Artoria's wish.
[Though neither of you is certain if such a future exists in Britain, it no longer matters.]
[Holding onto a vision is a beautiful thing that humans can possess.]
[Even if the possibility of realization is slim,]
[the journey toward it holds aning, and that alone is of great value.]
[As Artoria desired,]
[on the night before the wedding venue was prepared, you had rlin set up a barrier to prevent others from entering.]
[And you held the wedding with Artoria.]
[Though there were no guests or spectators, and the stage was occupied only by you and Artoria, vast and silent,]
[the hall was filled with the colors of happiness.]
[Every mont of that ti would be etched into your mory.]
[The dreamlike, hazy glow surrounding you, and her, stumbling shyly as she walked hand in hand with you onto the stage,]
[leaving footprints in the light.]
[That mont was priceless to both of you.]
[The next day, the wedding proceeded as planned.]
[The knights of the Round Table gathered, and the kings of various clans and lords offered their blessings to King Arthur and Guinevere.]
[The people celebrated together on this day.]
[As the wedding reached its final mont—the wedding night reserved for King Arthur—the knights and lords drank together, imrsed in their dreams of a bright future.]
"Oh, Moran, our king's wedding is complete! As soone who has watched over our king since his childhood, what are your thoughts?"
"What thoughts could I have? He has reached the age for marriage. I've simply been silently supporting him. You, big ape, reek of alcohol."
"Hahaha, don't mind it! Today is our king's wedding, so let's not be too reserved! Let's drink until we drop!"
Moran was pulled into a drunken embrace by Gawain.
It was a night when the sun did not shine.
Even the invincible Knight of the Sun could only succumb to the celebratory atmosphere.
"Our king has found his true love. This is a joyous occasion.
As a knight from France, witnessing this mont fills with emotion, Lancelot..."
"Ah, Lancelot, I recall that you Frenchn have a romantic creed of abandoning your country for the sake of a woman, don't you?"
"Hmm... Tristan, you really know your stuff!"
Lancelot had no retort.
He often felt embarrassed about this.
Lancelot and Tristan often discussed matters of love, each holding their own views on romance.
Unlike the customs and culture of Britain,
where the island and country co first, the French prioritize the individual over the nation.
Abandoning everything for love is their creed, and it is the chivalric spirit of French knights that has spread far and wide.
To call them warriors of love is not far off.
"Heh, forgive my bluntness. Today is our king's wedding, and I'm in high spirits, acting unlike my usual self."
"Hahaha, it's quite noisy, but let's not get too rowdy, or we'll trouble our king tomorrow morning."
To prevent the knights from causing chaos in their excitent,
Percival, as usual, played the role of peacemaker.
The atmosphere was lively and joyful.
[Everyone believed that King Arthur would be captivated by Guinevere's beauty and that their marriage would bring happiness.]
[Unfortunately, they were only imagining it.]
[The reality was—]
"I understand the situation. My king, you're saying that you are, in fact, a woman. You've presented yourself as a man to better rule and lead Britain."
"Yes, Guinevere, I'm glad you understand. I don't want you, who has married , to be unaware of the truth."
[Artoria and Guinevere sat together.]
[They had been in this room for hours.]
[Rather than enjoying their wedding night as the knights imagined, they were more like princesses gathered for afternoon tea.]
[Their relationship was not one of a loving couple,]
[but rather one of mutual respect.]
[There was no warmth or affection.]
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