[FGO] Trust and Love
Gleaming a glance at Gawain's hesitant expression, Morgan pondered for a moment, her beautiful face maintaining the composure and calmness of a superior.
Even though she was aware of the information gap, the British princess did not lose her composure.
When Nitocris asked her question, she instantly understood: Artorius was hiding something from her, especially some very crucial information.
However, the focus right now is not on questioning Gao Wen to clarify the details.
This is the moment to test your adaptability!
Internal struggles can be conducted behind closed doors, but in front of outsiders (the Egyptian kings), unity is essential; this is the most basic principle.
"No matter what form or aspect he appears in, he is Artorius Pendragon, my dearest and most beloved brother."
Nitocris's ears twitched slightly as she leaned closer and asked, "So, you agree with the Storm King's methods, is that what you mean?"
"To save the nation and its people, Artorius will make the right decision. If the decision is wrong, the duty is for his subjects to advise him, while I will witness it all, hold them accountable, and share the consequences, even if it means destruction."
Even though none of "her" ever reached that future, but instead fell into a deep sleep before being noticed, disappearing into hatred and lamentation.
A flicker of surprise crossed Nitocris's face, followed by a deep contemplation, as if she were lost in some memory. Meanwhile, Ozymandias spoke up:
"The Princess of Britain, the Storm King, once made me a proposal that was both distant and absurd, but before being a warrior, I am a king, and therefore I prioritize letting my people experience the king's benevolence and bask in the sun's glory."
Ozymandias narrowed his eyes, his sharp, gleaming eyes like the dawn breaking through the deep fog.
Under Gawain's somewhat worried gaze, Morgan remained indifferent as he met the brown-skinned king's eyes, seemingly unfazed by the other's domineering aura.
Whether the Sun King noticed anything or not, she calmly picked up her cup and took a small sip.
It sounds like Ozymandias is taking a conservative approach, so it can be assumed that the Holy City will not be able to take advantage of his vulnerability for the time being.
Although not as powerful as the enchantress Morgan le Fay, Morgan still had some knowledge of the power struggles among royalty and nobility. Even though the Sun King, who held the Holy Grail, seemed to have the upper hand at first glance, the possibility of covert maneuvers during the war could not be ruled out.
—Just like what she planned to do.
"There are many ways to protect the people, and you have made your choice based on your own path of benevolence... If you can become the hope of this generation, then may your path of benevolence be carried through to the end."
The fairy's eyes, capable of discerning "truth," reflected the Egyptian king's radiant brilliance and the female pharaoh's profound yet poignant tenderness.
Morgan lowered his eyes and drank the wine in his glass in one gulp.
The night was cool and still.
The steam room, supported by several cylindrical pillars, encloses the pearl-like night view of the seabed. The hazy steam rises and wafts onto the gauze curtains hanging from the ceiling, imbuing the air with a damp, faint fragrance.
The candlelight flickered.
The soft light reflected the water droplets on the woman's tanned skin and the gentle light flowing in her amethyst eyes. As she looked toward the approaching footsteps, the slender figure of the silver-haired noblewoman appeared before her through the misty white fog.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm not used to having someone help me change."
"That's alright, whatever you prefer."
The British princess stepped into the steaming bath, letting the warm water gradually cover her delicate, snow-white chest. Seeing this, Nitocris parted the ripples and came to her side, gently brushing away the stray hairs that had fallen behind her neck.
Feeling Nitocris's gentle pressure, Morgan asked casually, "Your technique is quite skilled. Do you have sisters?"
Nitocris's animal ears swayed slightly. "I have a younger brother with whom I have a very close relationship."
"Oh? In that case, you're the same as me and Artorius."
Morgan's interest was piqued, and he was about to ask more questions when he suddenly froze at Nitocris's next question: "Are you and the Storm King lovers?"
"What? Of course not!"
The silver-haired, blue-eyed British princess felt a rush of blood to her face, a tingling, electric sensation shooting from her toes to her scalp. "We're siblings by blood!"
Moreover, Artorius... the Storm King was far removed from the King Arthur she remembered; he was closer to an adult male than the young king she was familiar with.
Therefore, when I saw Altolis again, it felt like a lifetime had passed.
Seeing Morgan's astonished expression, Nitocris casually dropped a bombshell: "To maintain the purity of the royal bloodline, my husband is also my younger brother."
After some hesitation, Morgan said tentatively, "But don't you feel awkward? That's a child you've watched grow up..."
Is this a topic I can discuss with Nitocris?
Experiencing this kind of female-centric conversation for the first time, Morgan's anxious expression and the blush that was softened by the misty waves were reflected on the shimmering water.
In the hazy, warm mist that blurred her vision, she heard Nitocris say, "Putting aside royal customs and obligations, I am very happy about this because it is someone who has been by my side since childhood, someone I know best and am closest to, someone I can completely entrust with my trust and love."
-
After bidding farewell to the Egyptian kings, Morgan mounted Gawain's horse and headed back to the Holy City.
Before being lifted onto the horse by the blond knight, she noticed his hesitation, but Morgan still did not ask about the details of Gawain's selection.
That should be told to her by Artorius.
Morgan thought to himself.
The silence between the two continued until they passed a sand dune, when a dark shadow in the distance swept across Morgan's field of vision.
Because the man was facing away from them, Morgan couldn't see his face clearly, but she could still make out his identity through his helmet amidst the billowing dust kicked up by the horse's hooves.
The moment the knight's name came to mind, Morgan's breath caught in his throat.
The British princess instinctively straightened her back and murmured to the disappearing figure:
"Mordred..."
It was as if something was about to burst out of her throat, but was being held back by an invisible hand. Even the delicate hand that tried to reach the unreachable figure seemed to be bound by an unshakeable shackle.
In the end, they could only watch as the other side disappeared into the endless yellow sand.
Only when Mordred's figure was completely out of sight did Morgan slowly say, "Does that child really hate me?"
As Morgan's son who witnessed all of this, Gawain remained silent for a long time before speaking to Morgan, who could not hide his dejection: "Lord Mordred simply doesn't know how to get along with you, after all, you and... I'm very sorry, what I want to say is—if you are willing to speak with Lord Mordred, you will surely gain understanding and respect."
Sensing the comfort in Gao Wenyan's words, Morgan's disappointment was replaced by surprise.
"Are Gao Wenqing and Secretary Mordred acquainted? Otherwise, why would you say such a thing?"
"Although your siblings each have their own personalities, they are all holy knights who cherish the feelings of others. Even though you are merely a princess of Britain here, you should also have related memories?"
"...Gawain, Agarwin, Gahris, Gareth, Mordred, these Knights of the Round Table were all children of the witch Morgan yoke, but to the witch, their offspring were merely pawns in dealing with King Arthur."
When Morgan uttered Gawain's name in a soft, melodious voice, the latter was momentarily startled. However, lost in thought, Morgan didn't notice this. "The happiness felt through family has a completely different meaning between commoners and royalty, especially since royal marriages are mostly based on mutual benefit. Even so, the enchantress Morgan is clearly not a good mother. I, who share the same body as her, can understand being resented, blamed, and even condemned, and I accept and bear this guilt."
Before Gawain could respond, Morgan continued, "In the Arthurian legend, the enchantress Morgan le Fay is a villain, deserving of resistance and resentment. But isn't it even crueler to make that child the one to be blamed, Mordred, who ended King Arthur's life and led Britain to its destruction?"
"I am both the child's mother and not her mother. I always feel confused and unsure of what Mordred has done and how she is doing, but I can't let it go, so I still can't face the child."
At this point, the silver-haired, blue-eyed woman curled up in the arms of the blond knight.
A moment later, Morgan heard a sigh from above: "Ms. Morgan is so kind."
"Huh? Gao Wenqing, you don't need to force yourself to praise me. I know very well what people think of 'Morgan'."
"Others' opinions cannot represent my feelings, especially since I am the person who actually interacted with you. You thought about our situation very seriously and did not want to hurt us; these are all manifestations of your gentleness."
"I... I just... After all, you are all members of the Knights of the Round Table, and as the 'Princess of Britain,' it's only natural for me to protect my own people."
"Family...family, that word is surprisingly a little embarrassing, but it feels full of trust. Being loved so much by Lady Morgan gives me a constant surge of strength."
"Gao Wenqing? Gao Wenqing!? Are you kidding me?"
"Please believe me, I absolutely did not mean that, Ms. Morgan. I just felt it was necessary to clearly express one's feelings, especially for a gentle and considerate woman like you, who needs someone to tell you that you are wonderful! Otherwise..."
Morgan covered her face and waited for a while, but the blond knight didn't continue. "What...what else could it be?"
"If we weren't in this perilous singularity, the bards would surely sing your praises of beauty and goodness." Noticing the grip on his cloak from the person in front of him, Gawain released the reins with one hand and wrapped his arm around Morgan's waist.
The British princess, buried in the knight's chest, murmured in shame and indignation, "Please stop talking, or the sand will get into your mouth."
Faced with Gawain's sweet talk, a confused Morgan tries to distract himself.
—Where did this child learn such sweet talk? Could it be that Lord Tristan corrupted him?
The most famous Casanova in the Knights of the Round Table is undoubtedly the red-haired knight. Putting a pot lid on someone's head is definitely not wrong, after all, how could Gawain, such a good boy, be wrong?
Morgan thought to herself, having been successfully diverted from the topic by the quick-witted Gawain and unconsciously switching into motherly protectiveness mode.
After successfully returning to the Holy City, Morgan parted ways with Gawain under his smiling gaze.
The silver-haired, blue-eyed noblewoman did not forget to inquire about Tristan's current whereabouts.
She hadn't forgotten the "surprise" of being dumped on Gawain, nor the lack of integrity that led the knight astray (Gawain: ?).
The Holy City Gardens seemed to be Tristan's permanent residence, especially since his handsome face rivaled the vibrant clusters of flowers, and the music he played on the harp was like butterflies fluttering on petals, gentle and beautiful. "Welcome back, Your Highness Morgan. How was your trip?"
Looking at Tristan, who had risen from the edge of the pavilion railing and was bowing obediently to him, Morgan suppressed his almost defiant remark: "If this is a form of espionage, then your methods are far too obvious, Lord Tristan."
Although Morgan approached Tristan with the intention of settling scores, her anger wasn't actually that intense. Moreover, she did indeed improve her relationship with Gawain because of it, and Morgan had to admit that she felt grateful towards Tristan.
However, due to a subtle sense of awkwardness, Morgan was unwilling to express his gratitude directly.
So she avoided the red-haired knight's question, cleared her throat, and said, "Sir Tristan, I have prepared a gift for you."
The British princess, who had a pleasant conversation with the two Egyptian kings and received gifts, pulled out a lyre from a magical vortex of light that appeared in mid-air (referencing the principle of a certain golden king's treasure vault).
Since it was presented by a king, it must have been a musical instrument crafted with exquisite skill. Judging from the superior quality of the strings, it is not difficult to tell that it was made of the finest materials. The beautifully lacquered body is also decorated with exquisite waves and fig patterns.
You can tell this is a fine instrument without even needing a professional craftsman to appraise it.
Seeing Tristan suddenly open his eyes, and as that stunning golden light caught Morgan's eye, she couldn't help but soften her tone: "Want to try it out?"
Upon hearing this, the red-haired knight lowered his eyes again, concealing the dark undercurrents in his eyes beneath his eyelashes, as if what he had just seen was merely a fleeting glimpse of Morgan.
Accepting the lyre presented by the British princess, Tristan, a knight of the Round Table, slowly parted his thin lips and murmured, "You are truly a... person, no, perhaps precisely because of this, I..."
That's why I hate you so much, Your Highness Morgan.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
