Camelot's Crow | ✓ [BOOK 3]

~ 50 ~

A/N: you know the drill. nothing explicit but i'll mark the nsfw bits. this chapter is important, though, so just skip the marked section if you don't want to read it. it's only like 3 paragraphs this time, you aren't missing much.

EVERYTHING WAS FALLING INTO place. A week following Namyra's acceptance, Morgana received word of Giselle and Selene's engagement. And only days after that, a message was sent to Kit, telling him that the castle of Camelot was completed. Namyra would soon be the Queen of the Seelie Court, and Kit would soon be the King of Camelot, and Morgana would be free to live as he wanted.

The question of whether it was even possible for Morgana to retire from the throne was brought to Mab, who was skeptical at first, but after giving it some thought, she opened her mind to it.

"It's never been done before," Mab had said. "But when the rules are so old that no one remembers them anymore, perhaps it is time for them to be rewritten."

And so they would be. The night before Morgana would rewrite the rules and give his crown to the woman who truly deserved it, he found himself sentimental. Kit was still asleep, to his knowledge, so he took the time to wander every corridor, stand in every room, and remember everything he'd been through in his time there. He smiled fondly at the museum, recalling the time when everything had been so simple and all they sought for was the pieces of the sword, unknowing of all that was truly to come.

He entered the ballroom, dancing with himself to no music for awhile, remembering the times he'd danced with Kit before he realized how much he enjoyed it. He took a visit to the library, glancing at the star-spotted sky through the contraption in the observatory, and remembered the power he and Kristofer shared there.

The last room he entered was the throne room. There was one single throne sitting at the head of the large room, raised up on a platform, tall and elegant and far too daunting for Morgana. This time, however, he didn't look at the throne with dread. He didn't fear a long life of misery when he approached it, wondering how long it would take before he turned into a monster like Titania, who'd grown so desperate to die that she was willing to burn the whole world down just to rest.

Instead, he looked at it with a smile. The throne would mean something else with Namyra on it, where she belonged. She knew what she was doing, and she loved her people in a way Morgana had struggled so long to do. Namyra was a natural at this, and his chest warmed at the thought that it all worked out in the end.

He jumped when he heard the creaking of the doors, and he turned to find Kit standing there, fidgeting awkwardly with his fingers. "Hello," he said. "I've been looking all over for you."

Morgana smiled. "Well, I've been all over." He turned back to look at the throne as Kit approached him, coming up behind him and setting his large hands on his hips. "I hate this place, but I'm still going to miss it."

Kit nuzzled his nose into his neck and breathed him in. "Me too," he admitted in a low voice. "I'll miss how angry you get when I call you 'Your Majesty.'"

"You're insufferable."

"And you're beautiful."

Morgana spun around in his arms to get a look at his face. There was something in his eyes he couldn't read, a fire that made him want to look away, but he couldn't. "I'll still be Queen for one more night," he murmured. "You can still say it until the sun comes up."

Kit's hands roamed up Morgana's side, around his back, downwards. Hot breath fanned over the faery's shattered skin, and he could feel goosebumps scattering across his arms. As soon as he felt the prince's lips on his throat, Morgana held up a hand and every door locked with a loud click, leaving them alone in the dim light of the throne room.