My heart pounded in my chest as I mustered the courage to confront Lancelot about Morgana. Jealousy gnawed at me, consuming my thoughts and pushing me to take action. With determination in my eyes, I squeezed the doorknob and entered Morgana's chambers.
The room was cloaked in shadows, illuminated only by flickering candlelight. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and other spices I couldn't quite name. In the centre of the room stood a grand four-poster bed, draped with sheer silks that danced in the gentle breeze from an open window. I could not help but wonder if this was where Lancelot had lain with her – the thought ignited a fire within me.
My steps were cautious, silent as I moved further into the chamber. My fists clenched at my sides, knuckles turning white with the strength of my grip. I tried to steady my breathing, feeling a mix of fear and boldness coursing through my veins.
"My Queen?" Lancelot's voice startled me, sending a shiver down my spine. "What are you doing here?"
My vision hadn't adapted to the dimness yet so I lost my balance and bumped into him... It was not until he stepped into the pale moonlight streaming from the window that his form became visible. Lancelot's tall, muscular frame was now clear and I realised I had my hands on his shoulders. I felt his warmth beneath my palms and my thighs grazed against his legs inadvertently. I stepped back quickly, embarrassed by our closeness, hoping he wouldn't see me blush.
Taking in the sight of him, my anger melted away. His face was filled with concern and confusion and his features were so gorgeous that for a moment I forgot about Morgana entirely. Damn him! He was so beautiful it was hard to stay mad at him.
I could feel the heat of Lancelot's gaze wash over me as he spoke, his voice low and gentle. "My Queen, why did you come here?"
The words lingered between us for what felt like an eternity before I could finally speak. My throat felt dry and tight as I let out a deep breath before answering.
"Are you Morgana's lover?" My voice wavered slightly, betraying my vulnerability.
"What if I am?" he teased, a mischievous grin curving his lips. "Are you jealous, my Queen?"
His playful response caught me off guard, momentarily easing the tension between us. My cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire, as I struggled to find words to counter his taunt. Yet, beneath the surface, my heart ached with longing for him, and my mind raced with questions I feared to ask.
"Of course not," I lied, attempting to sound confident. "Why would I be? It's none of my concern."
"Are you sure?" Lancelot whispered seductively, leaning closer until our breaths mingled. "I can tell you care a little, judging from the way you kissed me in the infirmary."
My resolve crumbled under the weight of his closeness, and I couldn't help but reach out, placing a trembling finger on his full lips. "Last time, it was you who kissed me first..." I breathed, my voice barely audible.
Our eyes locked, and I could feel the energy crackle between us, the desire mounting with each heartbeat. Without another word, I closed the distance between us, capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss. Lancelot immediately responded, wrapping one arm around my waist while the other tangled itself in my golden hair.
He pulled me closer and our bodies pressed together, his soft, wet lips igniting an insatiable hunger. His strong hands roamed my curves, my skin ablaze with anticipation. I gasped as his tongue found the sensitive nape of my neck, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
"My Queen," he moaned softly, his breath hot against my ear. "I want you more than anything, but... The King..."
"Shut up," I whispered, my need for him overriding any rational thought. "He's not here."
Our lips met again in a searing kiss, tongues dancing and exploring as our passion reached its peak. We abandoned all pretence of restraint, allowing ourselves to become lost in the whirlwind of desire that engulfed us.
My fingers trembled as they found the lace of Lancelot's doublet, tentatively undoing it. As I revealed his perfect, hard pecs, my lips eagerly pressed against them. The taste of his skin was intoxicating, sending a jolt of desire coursing through me. Lancelot's breath hitched in response, his arousal obvious.
"My Queen," he whispered huskily, his hands finding their way to my breasts under my gown. "If we start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."
His hands began expertly massaging my tits and playing with my nipples, causing me to moan in pleasure.
"Good" I replied, panting softly. "Maybe I don't want you to stop."
He gently bit down my neck and earlobe, and I gasped at the sensation. His tongue traced a path from my earlobe to the hollow of my throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. When his tongue reached my chest, he pulled down my gown to expose my big, juicy breasts. His hot breath teased me as it caressed the tips of my nipples, them swelling and aching for more. His mouth descended on them, tenderly licking them first and then sucking them hungrily. I gasped with pleasure, grabbing a fistful of his hair while muffling my moans with the other hand pressed against my lips.
My undergarments grew damp with need, and I knew I had to have him.
As we pressed together, I could feel the bulge in his pants, hard and insistent against my thigh, then my pussy. Unable to resist any longer, I reached down inside his pants and caressed his massive, soft throbbing cock, feeling it twitch beneath my touch. Our movements were guided by a mixture of desire and uncertainty, as we both knew that what we were doing was dangerous but couldn't bring ourselves to stop.
"My Queen...," Lancelot murmured as I stroked him, his voice rough with lust. "I want you so badly."
"Then take me," I replied, my own voice barely a whisper. "I'm yours."
Lancelot complied, turning me around and lifting the skirt of my gown. Pressing his hard cock against the crack of my ass, with one hand he kept playing with my breasts while with the other he caressed my slick folds. I bit my hand not to scream out loud as I felt his fingers expertly stroke and massage my clit. The sensation was overwhelmingly pleasurable and I could barely contain my moans.
His thrusts were slow at first, as if savouring every moment. As he increased his speed, I found myself meeting each thrust eagerly, completely given over to our passionate union. My breathing grew heavy and ragged as pleasure shot through me in waves.
"Fuck, Lancelot..." I panted.
Just as I was close to climaxing, the sound of footsteps approaching filled the room. Panic flashed across Lancelot's face.
"It's Morgana!" he hissed.
Quickly collecting myself, I attempted to leave the room, but Lancelot grabbed my arm, stopping me. "She'll see you if you go through the door," he warned. He pulled me close to a wall. With a whispered fae incantation and a touch on some stone tiles, he revealed a secret room. "Get inside and be silent until you can come out."
I obeyed, stepping into the small chamber as the wall closed behind me. The space was plunged into darkness, but soon a soft green luminescence filled the room, revealing piles of chests and various objects strewn about. With the green glow illuminating the secret chamber, I felt compelled to look around.
I cautiously ventured further into the room. It was not much bigger than I initially thought. At the back of the chamber the cold stone walls were lined with shelves containing dusty scrolls and ancient artefacts, while wooden chests lay piled high in the corners. It felt as though I had stumbled upon a hidden world of forbidden treasures.
I hoped Morgana didn't see me and that she was not able to sense me now. How could I have been so foolish? She almost caught us in the middle of... My mind whirled with thoughts of Lancelot – how his touch had set me ablaze, the taste of his lips, the feel of his cock in my hand. Though fear coursed through me, it was impossible to extinguish the fire that our encounter had ignited.
But... How did Lancelot know about this secret room? And how was he able to recite a fae incantation?
My hands brushed against something smooth and unexpectedly cold – a stark contrast to the burning passion that had consumed me moments before. Curiosity piqued, so I wrapped my fingers around the object and slowly lifted it up, revealing... a dragon egg! It was unmistakable, the size of it leaving no doubt. Its surface shimmered like mother-of-pearl, a mesmerising dance of iridescent hues shifting beneath the eerie light.
Dragons, magnificent creatures once revered for their elemental magic, were said to wield powers beyond our imagination, unlike fairies who drew upon the energies surrounding them. Yet this particular egg seemed devoid of any warmth or vitality, its lifeless chill betraying the impossibility of a hatchling within.
The weight of my discovery pressed heavily on my conscience, forcing me to confront a decision that could change the course of my life. Should I obey King Arthur's command to steal the egg and gain his favour, or stand firm in my beliefs and leave it untouched? My heart ached at the thought of becoming a thief, but the memory of Arthur's cruel grip on my body threatened to suffocate me.
King Arthur had already taken so much from me... I couldn't let him have my soul as well. With trembling hands, I placed the egg back where I had found it, steeling my resolve to remain true to myself and my values. Fear clawed at my insides, but I stepped away from the egg. I didn't want to be a pawn in King Arthur's games.
As I stood in the hidden chamber, I suddenly became aware of muffled voices on the other side of the wall. Straining to hear, I pressed my ear against the cold stone, desperate to make out their words.
"…Broceliande Forest," Lancelot's voice came through faintly. "The fae rebels need your help."
"Do they?" Morgana replied, her tone conspiratorial. "I can obtain weapons for them, they just need to resist a bit longer. I'll see that they are delivered soon."
"Thank you, Morgana," Lancelot said, his voice steady and resolute. "I'll draw you a map. Their ruler will be grateful."
My eyes widened as the implications of their conversation slowly dawned on me. Lancelot – the man who had stolen my heart, despite my misgivings – was working against King Arthur, siding with the fae. A whirlwind of emotions churned within me: shock, confusion, and a strange sense of relief. Did this mean he hated King Arthur as much as I did? He was not his loyal friend after all!
"Stay with me tonight, Lancelot," Morgana implored, her voice sultry and inviting. "It's been too long since we've shared a bed."
"Ah, Morgana, I'm quite weary," Lancelot deflected gently. "I fear I would not be much company this evening."
"Very well," she sighed, disappointment evident in her tone. "But allow me to accompany you to your chambers, at least."
"Thank you, Morgana," Lancelot said softly, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice.
As their footsteps retreated down the corridor, I grappled with the revelation that Lancelot was not only plotting against Arthur but also entangled with Morgana in some way. Who was the real Lancelot?
There was no time to dwell on it. My hand trembled as it reached for the enchanted fae lock that had sealed the hidden chamber. I fumbled around the wall, pressing down on each stone tile until one of them shifted beneath my fingertips. Luckily for me, it was not necessary to know the incantation to exit the chamber. The wall slid open with a soft woosh.
Seizing the opportunity, I slipped out of the hidden chamber and into Morgana's room, my mind racing as I retraced my steps through the palace. The man I thought I knew – the one who had shown me kindness and stirred feelings within me that I hadn't thought possible – was now shrouded in mystery.
"Who are you, Lancelot?" I whispered to myself as I navigated the dim corridors, each step echoing with the weight of unanswered questions.