[FGO] Becoming a Miracle
Morgan left her deep love in a distant dream, like snowflakes melting in early spring or fireflies circling a lakeside in midsummer.
Love will turn her into an indecisive woman, and the submissive, dependent woman will not be the posture she desires. Instead, she will become a more detached (like a storm) and a more resolute (like a princess) version of herself.
The innocent and carefree princess was ultimately able to defend her honor—whether it was her home, her family, or "anything else."
After revealing all her plans to the red-haired knight, Tristan's ruby-like hair reflected in Morgan's icy blue eyes. She immediately felt as if she were back to the moment she opened her eyes, the raging earth deeply imprinted in her cold pupils, the bright red color stinging her irises, making her anxious yet miraculously calm.
It was as if a voice was telling her, "It's alright."
Because she was not alone.
She found a travel companion, who gladly joined her on this journey.
As Tristan departed on his orders, the twilight sky cast a slanting red glow through the window, gilding the silhouettes of the two British royalty with an orange hue.
A brief silence spread out until Morgan reached out and brushed her fingertips across the council table, her slender white hand resting on the slightly reflective surface, as if deep in thought. Suddenly, Artorius, who was beside her, noticed something, stepped forward, and put his arm around the princess's waist.
The British Red Dragon, Morgan, scrutinized the face beneath the black veil with his bright eyes, and parted his lips slightly: "...Your face is very pale, Morgan."
Artorius lifted the veil with his other hand, leaning closer to examine the princess's face. Having heard Morgan's plan, he immediately understood her state of mind.
"Even for the island witch, maintaining the magical power required to keep the 'bell' level for an extended period must be quite a burden."
The Storm King's concern overflowed from his cold syllables, softening his whispered words. Morgan, upon hearing a certain key word, stiffened and instinctively stammered, "I am the Princess of Britain, the Witch of the Island! These symptoms of magic depletion... ugh—"
The unfinished rebuttal was abruptly halted by a sudden bout of dizziness.
—That was a real blunder.
Morgan's thoughts.
Unlike the Fairy Queen, who could forcibly absorb the magic of her subjects to replenish her power, relying solely on her own magic was indeed somewhat insufficient.
Unlike constructing a dream, where a "veil" can be woven to cover the land, the seven "bells" must have a high concentration of magic in order to serve as the targets for replacement.
She must persevere until the moment "fate" arrives, for then everything will have meaning.
"Don't be stubborn, Morgan."
Looking up at the handsome face so close to her, Morgan frowned slightly. "This isn't a matter of showing off, Artorius."
Upon hearing this, the blond-haired, golden-eyed king calmly replied, "I understand."
Regardless of why Altoris continued to observe, his knowing demeanor puzzled Morgan. "What have you figured out?"
"I understand that Morgan wants to bear everything alone and forget that I am someone he can rely on." Morgan was speechless as he saw himself reflected in those golden eyes.
That's not how it works.
That was her intended response.
Before reuniting with the Storm King, she had been seeking King Arthur's assistance.
Although the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom became a part of her (Morgan), Morgan felt obligated to save the kingdom, but she also knew that her own strength was far from enough. Therefore, she traveled to various worlds hoping that King Arthur would lend a helping hand.
Morgan was not a saint and would never sacrifice his own interests.
Rather than becoming a hero praised by everyone, it is better for a noblewoman to let more glamorous people shine in front of others, thus gaining protection from the great deeds of heroes.
Therefore, it is difficult for anyone to remember it.
Therefore, once someone approves of him, it will unleash a storm that sweeps across everything in Morgan's heart.
"...I'm not the kind of self-sacrificing good person or a fool, Artorius." She forced out a dry voice from deep in her throat, "I'm just... just... not used to having anyone around me yet."
Yes, that must be it.
It was this King Arthur (her Artoria) before her who disrupted her rhythm, making her less composed and calm than she had been before.
"Then it is my duty to help you get used to it as quickly as possible. Not only me, but also my knights, but I still hope to be the person you trust the most and rely on the most wholeheartedly."
— He used these sweet words to break her down when she was on the verge of despair.
Morgan let those affectionate eyes gradually draw closer until the distance between them completely disappeared. Their intertwined warm breaths shielded Morgan from all senses, leaving only the softness on his lips and the gentle yet irresistible force of his kisses.
The British princess reluctantly succumbed to Altoris's strong embrace.
-
It was filled with despair and the possibility of being abandoned.
In a world annihilated before the holy sword could be forged, a god who tried to dissuade the playful fairies drank poisoned wine amidst a malicious scheme. Even the only priestess was dismembered and used as playthings, while the cheering fairies sang and danced on the god's corpse.
The lament of the gods transformed into an endless curse, spreading in cycles, eroding the land built on blood and deception from the borderlands.
The fairies of the paradise were regarded as enemies by the "beings" who refused to atone for their sins, and the clans that had been sheltered by them were wiped out. Thus, the sound of pattering rain that once echoed in our ears has faded into the distant past.
A passionate savior embarks on a journey filled with dreams, only to lose friends and loved ones through repeated betrayals, until the last glimmer of his soul is extinguished, allowing the calamity that burns everything to hunt fairies, ultimately becoming the ruthless Queen of Winter.
...Does the story end here?
Can the Queen's reign bring lasting peace?
To prevent this world, riddled with wounds, from being denied, to perpetuate the nation that has endured so many heavy sacrifices, and to inscribe the legends covered in the dust of time on the desolate throne, the Queen used the Holy Lance to erase all the blanks in the records, selected the rebellious fairy knight to reap the spoils, and sat atop the capital city, which seemed frozen for a thousand years, gazing upon the land as calm as a winter lake.
With absolute calmness, the undercurrents beneath the lake's surface are suppressed, creating an idyllic paradise secluded from the world.
However, aside from the curse that is temporarily dormant under the Holy Lance, the fate of destruction of the homeland (Britain) has been repeatedly brought back, and the island consciousness (the White Dragon) that yearns for an end is waiting for its chance, keeping a close eye on every opportunity to reverse its destiny.
He forged a thousand years of regret, tears, and lament into shackles that sealed his heart, protecting only the precious person remaining in his palm. Yet, he was once again defeated by the fairy's vicious scheme. In the sea of fire that engulfed the borders, the scorching heat devoured his last hope, and the queen (Morgan) awoke to become a princess (Morgan).
—Does this sound familiar to you?
The fairies struggling in Britain,
Humans barely surviving in the singularity.
Fairy knights who are under the command of the Fairy Queen
Offer your loyal Knights of the Round Table to the King of Storms.
The island consciousness that lies dormant, yearning for a rebellion on the throne (White Dragon).
The Storm King (Red Dragon) who crushes everything.
The island founded on the divine body (Cornunus),
A land that was once visited by gods and is considered a sacred place.
A calamity curse threatening the nation.
The historical facts and human reasoning must be thoroughly investigated and eliminated.
The Queen's Holy Lance that isolated the world
The Holy Lance of the Storm King, symbolizing the edge of the world.
The Seven Bells of the Fairies in Liberation Paradise
The Holy Grail of the Magic King who travels through the world.
Is it almost a carbon copy?
As long as the structure, intelligence, and specifications are similar, no matter how far the distance, even if it involves crossing the world—
Considering the current conditions, even a magician standing at the "pinnacle" cannot guarantee complete success, but if it were Morgan...
That would make it possible.
No, it must be done!
Not as a witch, nor as a fairy, but as the princess of Tintaj.
Like a fleeting ephemera, she momentarily became a part of a legend that didn't belong to her—the most noble woman in Britain.
Morgan has the potential to be remembered, and indeed, he is etched into the soul of a king.
In the blonde queen's memory, she (Morgan) could turn all fantasies into reality, and was also a unique and lovable savior.
Based on this understanding and emotion, she can do anything.
Having explained all of the above to the knights of the Storm King, the silver-haired noblewoman in her blue robe and black attire declared:
"I intend to exchange Britain in the Lostbelt for this land."
Summoned before the throne to receive orders, the Storm King's knights were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information. They exchanged bewildered glances, and the Sun Knight, prompted by a look from his comrades, stepped forward and slowly asked, "Can we succeed?"
"That's not a problem. The objects of the replacement include fairies and humans, fairy knights and everyone else, gods and land, calamities and the burning of human reason, white dragons and red dragons... The corresponding anchor points have been selected. Now only the source of magic and the seven bells remain."
As if he had just realized something, Gawain quickly asked, "Is this why you left magic in the Holy City and at the main gate?" As the head of the guard force at the main gate, he had naturally noticed the unusual appearance of the gate.
“That’s right,” Morgan agreed.
After he finished speaking, silence fell again beneath the throne, with the Knights of the Lake looking tense, as if they wanted to say something but hesitated.
The figure on the throne stirred slightly, and the golden eyes beneath the lion-faced helmet looked at the other party. "Lord Lancelot, what are your thoughts? After all, it's about moving the fairies to this land."
Lancelot, whose name was called, stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the silver-haired noblewoman before settling on his lord on the throne. Braving the sharp, piercing stare, he said, "I was once summoned as Lord Morgan's servant, and thus have seen those beings in my dreams… I dare ask Lord Morgan, are the innocent fairies also being replaced?"
Lancelot's words brought back a long-forgotten memory to Morgan's mind.
She was like an unexpected intruder, stepping into a peaceful and happy world beyond the reach of blood and smoke, and unwilling to disturb the tranquility of Morgan, she ultimately chose to leave quietly.
What happened to Artoria in that world?
Morgan admitted that her departure was a bit wicked, like a childish prank, but no matter what... she didn't want to say goodbye to King Arthur.
It seems that as long as it wasn't spoken aloud and that scene wasn't witnessed, it could be assumed that the day they met was only a turn away—
"...Your Highness Morgan?"
The question that brushed past her ear pulled Morgan back to reality. She blinked her blue eyes and answered calmly, "Fairies born from Paradise are exempt from accountability, so they are not included in the replacement list."
"Then I have no further questions."
The Storm King's cold voice rang out again: "Where are the other knights?"
"It sounds like the best solution right now. I'm willing to cooperate as long as it can end this brutal killing." This was Tristan standing beside Lancelot, his eyelashes lowered respectfully.
"I agree with my lord's decision. It is my duty to protect the kingdom that my lord has defended." This is what Agravan said when he raised his right hand to his chest to show his loyalty.
"If it can bring salvation to people, I will offer my sword." This was Gawain's resolute decision to follow his lord, as he turned his gaze away from the Storm King and the Princess of Britain.
Everyone silently looked at the last knight—Mordred, his face grim, stared at the silver-haired noblewoman for a long time before slowly saying, "As long as my father agrees, I will agree."
Gawain wanted to say something upon seeing this, but after glancing at the one on the throne, the blond knight simply placed his hand on the other's shoulder.
"...Morgan."
Morgan took in the interaction between Gawain and Mordred, and looked up at Altoris's call.
Meeting the divine, azure-gold eyes that seemed to erase all emotion, she straightened her back under the gaze of the knights. "Please speak."
"Was that Britain destined for destruction?"
As if recalling something, the Storm King's tone revealed a chilling coldness that could pierce through the thin mist of winter, the frigid temperature penetrating deep into the bone marrow like a sharp sword.
The lord's imposing presence caused even the Knights of the Round Table below the steps to hold their breath.
Morgan, who was closest to Altolis, was momentarily stunned.
In that instant, the campfire in King Arthur's tent seemed to reappear before my eyes.
"...Perhaps that's the case."
The silhouette from a thousand years ago was blurred by a gentle, tear-inducing glow, casting a hazy filter over the vision that was trying to imprint the other person deep in memory.
"In order to continue, must we steal the future from others?"
Caught in the mysterious, gradually fading torrent of fate, King Arthur, who also sensed his own impending demise... no, Artoria Pendragon resolutely reached out to Morgan, catching her restless anxiety and all her confusion.
"yes."
Morgan answered softly.
It was as if all the sounds of the world had left her, leaving only him and her behind, making the other's voice even clearer.
"Even so, you still want to grasp at a miraculous hope?"
Morgan's heart was pounding out of control, but all he could do was try his best to suppress the restlessness.
"That's right."
—In the presence of the Knights of the Round Table.
"Then let us become this miracle."
Morgan once again received a precious promise from the king.
"……OK."
—The British Red Dragon embraced the tearful noblewoman and gently wiped away her glistening tears.
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