The elves secretly vanished from the encampment without a trace.
Landevale slipped out of Morgan's tent after swearing she wouldn’t say anything about today, while Yvain took off for dinner. And there they were, Burn and Morgan, buried in silence, out-silencing even the crickets outside.
"Why didn’t you tell me?" Morgan questioned, her eyes barely visible in the shadows as she bowed her head slightly. At first sight, she seemed as emotionless as a brick wall, but Burn saw what was hidden beneath.
"It wasn’t important. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you," Burn dragged his voice, aiming for a tone of false sweetness to avoid the heart of the matter.
"Oh, so it was a non-issue until I stumbled upon it? How convenient for you," Morgan shot back, her eyes flashing with a blend of anger and betrayal.
"I didn’t know that it’s important at all until now," Burn retorted, attempting to hide the tinge of fear creeping in, like a first-time bungee jumper contemplating the plunge—no this was worse.
Morgan's face twisted with hurt as she turned away, her movement slow enough for Burn to almost taste the static electricity crackling in the air.
She subtly sighed, slowly standing to her feet. She coldly said, “It’s dinner.”
Somehow, the encampment plunged into a bone-chilling -100 degrees today. Normally, such Arctic conditions were a trademark of Burn's icy displeasure, but this time, it was the lady of the house.
Absolutely no one knew the reason, except Burn.
Standing not far from the fire was Burn, his back to Morgan. In front of him was Galahad, handing the emperor his dinner along with Morgan's.
The pressure was apocalyptic. Dread spread in the area; even the moon hid behind the clouds.
How could it not? The lady was usually humming and smiling around, but today, it felt like the vacuum of silence after a flash of lightning, waiting for the sharp thunderclap to shatter the silence.
The eggshells the walked on were so thin, they might as well have been thinner than if it was Burn's anger—
"She's shooting daggers at me, isn't she? Does she still look like she's ready to unleash the fury of a thousand suns?" Burn inquired, turning to Galahad, who had the sudden urge to pull a Houdini and vanish into thin air.
Galahad contemplated a quick escape, but Burn's bloodshot gaze pinned him down like a bug under a magnifying glass, leaving him no choice but to face the music. Peeking timidly over Burn's shoulder, a cold sweat broke out on Galahad's brow as he beheld the sight that awaited him.
With the grace of an impending storm cloud, Burn slowly turned around, and in that moment, both men locked eyes with a silent fury so potent, it could have rendered their knees jelly, buckling in perfect synchrony.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, what have you done this time?" Galahad asked.
"I neglected to mention something I was unaware was important," Burn answered.
"And what exactly did you fail to disclose?" Galahad's image started to blur as his body shook violently in fear.
"I didn't tell her that I killed and ate the meat of a century-old unicorn and... the king of the Merfolk," Burn confessed.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
"You killed and ate—I'm sorry?" Galahad thought he had misheard.
For a solid five seconds, Galahad froze, his face blank before an emotionless smile crept across his features. "Your Majesty, do forgive my sudden departure. It seems I have an abundance of work awaiting me."
He gave up.
Burn sucked on his cheeks, his jaw so rigid he looked more menacing than usual. But Galahad still left. He didn’t want to die.
With that, Burn grasped the entirety of his willpower, his sturdy legs turning valiantly toward danger. From afar, the sight of Galahad and Burn turning in opposite directions looked so cinematic, like something out of a movie—one deciding to face danger, and one entrusting it to him.
‘You can do it, Your Majesty,’ Galahad cheered dramatically in his heart, his face filled with trust.
After a few steps away, the aide decided to glance back, and the sight made him want to kneel in defeat. Because Burn was on bended knee in front of Morgan, handing her her dinner, saying gently, “Eat dinner, Darling.”
‘He buckleeeeeeeeeed—!’ Galahad, and the rest of the people witnessing it, screamed internally.
***
Morgan Le Fay was a legendary being.
Humans didn’t know much about her, but they knew enough. All her accomplishments were laced in both glory—and bloodbath.
Infinite Witch, a being that was able to eternally fight you. She knew no respite, no faltering steps, no vulnerabilities. She stood akin to a cataclysm, unpredictable and unyielding, her actions a stern decree with no regard for distinction.
She would only stop when all her foes died.
A chilling thought, wasn't it? A ceaseless waltz of conflict that only found closure in the ultimate silence of her enemies. An existence painted in shade of complete and absolute annihilation.
When it could be talked over, she would talk. But when her foes refused to talk, she would spare no mercy. She stopped past wars with her punishments—storm after storm of destructive spells over the unyielding corrupts.
She was half the reason humans and non-human mythical creatures no longer waged war between each other.
There. That was the main part.
Morgan often bridged the discourse between mythical beings and humans. And it was clear that Morgan favored the mythical beings over humans.
It was just humans’ perspective to accuse her of such favor. She was actually a very just person. But records of the past did say that she often sided with the immortals and the mythicals. Of course, it was because humans were usually on the wrong side.
Seeing how the elves called her "Her Holiness" and spoke to her with utmost respect today too made Burn understand how close Morgan was with the mythical communities.
Her standing, her status in the eyes of the mythical beings, was the equivalent of the holy Apostle to humans. Or at least, a Saint.
Burn understood why she was angry that he didn’t tell her about him eating unicorn and merfolk meat.
Sitting in front of the campfire, she held her food in her lap, resembling the stoic person that Yvain once described. Rarely showing any smiles or laughs.
Burn sat beside her, noticing she hadn't touched the food he brought, her eyes blank as she gazed at the fire.
The elves mentioned that they didn’t initially mind Burn’s declaration of war. If he didn’t harm Yvain, they wouldn’t have thought much of it. However, the issue arose as Burn had a history with mythical creatures.
This revelation came from the second princess, who shared information she heard at the academy. It stated that the tyrant Burn, who had recently waged war, had killed a unicorn and the Merfolk’s King, and ate their flesh.
"I didn’t know that this was the reason the elves despised me in the previous loops. Now you had to hear it from them,” Burn said, completely acknowledging that he was sorry only because Morgan found out, not because he did kill and eat two mythical creatures.
“You found out something so disgusting,” Burn gently put away her food and sat closer to her. “Sorry for making you lose appetite.”
His words were intentionally gentle, yet there were no attempts at hiding the sinister underlying meanings behind it all. It was almost psychopathic. Almost demonic.
He didn’t care.
He didn’t care that any sane person would think of him as a cold-blooded evil who ate sentient creatures—who could speak and think like humans, just for his personal benefit.
He didn't care that he was, indeed, the exact thing they thought of him.
Staying away from the elephant in the room, he addressed the things he was upset about—that Morgan had to find out. Now that she was upset and that he had come to this, he started to contemplate wiping out those nosy pointy ears and call it a day.
And the moment he saw Morgan silently cry, all his gentle facade broke.
His face darkened.
“Caliburn… do you even know what you’ve done?” Morgan whispered, her defense crumbled to pieces.
As the demon and the angel fell in love with each other, they could only hurt each other.