The Queen and the Lion - Chapter 44
While it was said that even a beast could be tamed, no one dared to tame a beast that seemed untamable. The Black Lion of the battlefield was no ordinary creature, and they had tacitly agreed among themselves to avoid him.
Although they were careful not to speak ill of him in front of him, Aslan couldn’t remain oblivious to the turmoil in the kingdom.
Upon learning of Lysian’s difficulties, Aslan spoke up as soon as he met her that evening.
“I will try to follow Florean customs from now on.”
“Aslan.”
“Please let me do this much. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
Aslan could endure any embarrassment himself, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Lysian being dragged down with him. She was a noble being, like a flower on a cliff that was out of reach. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being belittled because of him.
Lysian smiled awkwardly. It wasn’t what she had hoped for—neither Aslan finding out nor him making an effort to follow Florean customs.
“It feels like I’m forcing you to do this out of selfishness.”
“It’s a small price to pay for monopolizing your side.”
Aslan shrugged and laughed heartily.
Honestly, Aslan didn’t care much about the position of consort. But even if he wasn’t the consort, he needed to learn some Florean customs to be with Lysian. It was simpler that way.
Lysian thought deeply.
It was clear that the best course of action was for Aslan to receive etiquette lessons. The nobles’ demands were unexpectedly strong, and since Aslan himself had volunteered, there was no reason for Lysian to object. She sighed in relief about this.
“Then let’s do it that way. Thank you.”
“If you want to compliment me, why don’t you give me a reward?”
Aslan gave a mischievous smile and pulled Lysian’s slender waist into his arms.
Lysian was helplessly drawn into Aslan’s strong, muscular arms. With a clear intention, Lysian laughed loudly in a clear voice.
“It’s good that you’re taking etiquette lessons, but I think it would be much easier and quicker for you to impregnate me. Give it a try.”
Saying so, Lysian wrapped one leg around Aslan’s thigh. The soft silk of her dress skirt flowed down her leg, and her smooth thigh touched Aslan’s hard muscles.
As if heat was rising, their lower bodies, pressed together, became hot. Aslan, suppressing the urge to kiss Lysian immediately, whispered softly.
“…The father of a future queen cannot be illiterate and rude.”
“Our child will resemble me, so he will like you very much.”
Lysian smiled sadly.
The bloodline of the Blossom royal family was strongly maternal. Just as Lysian was the spitting image of the previous queen, and as the history before that had shown, Lysian’s child would certainly be her carbon copy.
“I wish they could resemble you a little.”
Lysian’s voice turned melancholy.
Lysian ran her hand through Aslan’s raven-black hair. Aslan meekly offered his head like a pet receiving its owner’s petting. Unlike Lysian’s hair, which flowed softly through her fingers, Aslan’s hair was stiff and rough. Lysian twisted the ends of Aslan’s hair. The tangled hair quickly loosened.
Lysian lightly kissed Aslan’s eyelids like a bird pecking. Aslan closed his eyes, receiving Lysian’s soft kiss. His golden eyes disappeared into his eyelids like the sun setting over the horizon.
At that moment, Aslan felt as if he had the whole world. His heart raced just from the fact that Lysian loved him, and the mere thought of her carrying his child gave him the greatest joy. As if nothing but a flower garden lay ahead, Aslan was filled with anticipation.
However, the world is not always so kind. Learning the strict customs of Florea, one of the most demanding nations, was by no means easy. The language of the nobility, their handwriting, appropriate idioms, history, etiquette, and more—it was an overwhelming amount for someone who had spent his life rolling around in the dust of war.
Thus began Aslan’s personal hell.
