[？] It'll only be you.
For Morgan, "time" was the most tangible thing.
Because she failed to gain the right to use her body, she not only missed King Arthur's coronation, but also only discovered after waking up that she was already married.
Her husband was King Loth of Orkney, whose territory was located in the far north of Britain.
At the same time, the infamous title of "the woman who cursed King Arthur" is well-known.
#On one's own alternate personality causing negative rumors and being unable to defend oneself#
#How to explain that the bad thing was done by another, worse version of yourself and has nothing to do with this kind version of yourself#
What Morgan found even more unbelievable was that Morgan le Fay also trained his children to be knights and brought them into King Arthur's service, where they became the right-hand men of the King of Britain.
"Perhaps the island's owner has some kind of masochistic fetish," the British princess thought, both annoyed and confused.
After a tentative conversation with King Lot, Morgan concluded that he and King Lot were not on the same wavelength, and therefore ceased all contact with him. The man also seemed unconcerned about the Queen's whereabouts, which made Morgan's journey to the capital, Camelot, easier.
As a princess of Britain, existing in the world as "King Arthur's good sister," she undoubtedly had to return to Artoria's side.
During his journey, Morgan did not forget to inquire about Camelot's current situation. He learned that King Arthur had appointed Lord Kael as Minister of State and Lord Agwen as Chief Advisor. The latter would handle state affairs while King Arthur was away on campaigns, while the king himself would lead the army to fight on the front lines.
Morgan thought she would have to go to the front lines, but she happened to be there when King Arthur returned in triumph and was able to reunite with her brother in the chalk city.
Given that the two had not seen each other for a long time, King Arthur's good sister prepared a surprise for him.
In the vibrant, colorful palace gardens, a silver-haired, blue-eyed noblewoman hid in the shadows of a pavilion. As the king, now unarmored, walked along the dappled shade of the corridor, she spoke to the hurried figure:
"Al".
Her voice, as gentle and melodious as an orchid, seemed to come from a distant memory.
—It felt like an illusion.
Like a vigilant hunter, his emerald eyes pierced precisely at the source of the sound, his sharp aura like a blade drawn from its sheath, his fierce gaze deeply intimidating.
However, when that illusory figure came into view, all the fierceness instantly melted away in the shimmering light and shadow scattered throughout the courtyard.
"—Morgan."
King Arthur parted his thin lips slowly, as if afraid to disturb the beautiful dream he had longed for, and murmured softly as if facing an abyss.
Then the most noble woman in all of Britain raised her arm to him and said in a tone of deep longing, "My dear brother, let me take a good look at your face."
The strong wind that blows up the colorful petals is dazzling, and the long, silvery-white strands outline one beautiful arc after another amidst the splendid clusters of flowers.
So the blond king hid the long sigh that swept through his heart beneath his deep, dark eyes, and stepped closer to the lush silhouette cast by the dense branches, entering the beautiful pavilion entwined with verdant grapevines.
Morgan was able to scrutinize the King of Britain's face, her pinkish-rose fingertips tracing his soft, golden bangs, tracing his prominent brows from his full forehead down to his straight, handsome nose and beautifully shaped lips.
The silver-haired, blue-eyed noblewoman clearly realized that Artorius's face looked much more mature than she remembered.
Seeing her beloved younger brother grow into a reliable young man, a sense of pride welled up within her, and the beautiful princess couldn't help but smile. "This is what the King of Britain looks like, hmm... indeed handsome."
How much did she miss while she was asleep? Morgan thought to himself ruefully.
She slowly withdrew her hand, then revealed a sly smile, saying, "But no matter what, even if it's considered disrespectful to a monarch, in my eyes you will always be Artorius Pendragon, so be prepared, Arthur!"
Upon hearing this, the person in front of her seemed to be chasing Morgan's hand, his long and warm breath brushing against her cheek as he drew closer, his golden hair intimately touching her forehead.
Caught off guard, Morgan gasped for breath.
Before Morgan could react, the arms around her waist tightened. In the midst of their intertwined breaths and reflected in each other's eyes, a whisper filled with boundless tenderness rang in her ears: "Morgan, this is our Britain."
If Morgan le Fay, the enchantress who sought to usurp his throne, had viewed King Arthur as an irreconcilable enemy, she might have cast the most vicious curse upon him because of this resounding declaration.
Artorius's whispers were tantamount to sharing the throne with Morgan (the Queen), which was an unforgivable insult to the embodiment of the island.
Unwittingly exacerbating the contradictions within her own personality, Morgan should have been troubled, but held in Altorlis's arms, she couldn't utter any harsh words.
With his eyes closed, Morgan listened to the heartbeats that were gradually merging into one in his chest. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Altoris's, letting the latter bury his head in the crook of his neck, and said affectionately, "It seems that no matter how much you grow up, you can't get rid of this habit of being spoiled, Altoris."
Then, as if making up for what she had missed little by little, Morgan listened to King Arthur talk about the grandeur of his coronation, the construction of Camelot, and the knights' response to the call... piecing together vivid scenes from his descriptions, and unable to help but break into a bright smile at the amusing anecdotes he mentioned.
It felt like returning to that forest path outside Tintazhe.
But something has changed; for example, the British red dragon prefers to call her by her name rather than "Queen."
Morgan didn't think much of it.
But that might be the beginning of everything that followed.
-
When Tristan, a knight from Cornwall, stepped into the palace gardens at the king's command and encountered the renowned "Morgan le Fay," he concealed his astonishment beneath his long, lowered eyelashes.
Even though it was just a fleeting glimpse, the noblewoman's captivating face was clearly imprinted in Tristan's mind.
Recalling the scandalous rumors surrounding her and the men who had fallen for her beauty, Tristan couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Although he never communicated with Morgan and was not someone who blindly believed rumors, Morgan le Fay not only kept his distance from the knights but also never attended the same occasions as King Arthur. It is likely that the rumors of discord between King Arthur and the "femme fatale" were not unfounded.
As King Arthur's loyal subordinate, the red-haired knight's primary concern was whether the enchantress would cause trouble for no reason. Fortunately, Tristan spotted King Arthur's figure nearby, and his heartbeat returned to normal.
Before Tristan could even stand still, the King of Britain spoke first: "This is Lord Tristan, whose archery skills are superb and whose martial arts are no less than those of the First Knight."
"...I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my Lord's praise."
Tristan keenly sensed something. His handsome face, which even fairies longed for, remained expressionless, yet he focused intently on observing the two royals before him.
"Lord Tristan, before you stands Princess Morgan le Fay of Britain, my most beloved and cherished sister. From this day forward, you shall be her bodyguard knight, and you shall not only treat her with royal courtesy, but also take her orders and wishes as the highest priority."
King Arthur's appointment exploded in Tristan's mind like a thunderclap!
Discord between siblings? Infighting among those in power? Aristocratic treachery?
In an instant, countless thoughts flashed through Tristan's mind, from "Who exactly plotted against me?" to "Does my king truly intend for me to serve as a scout?" At the same time, the nobleman still answered in his cool voice, "As you command."
Unlike Tristan, who feigned composure but was actually lost in the cosmic world, Morgan calmly looked at the man before her and took the initiative to strike up a conversation with Tristan after Artorius left.
"Sir Tristan, I look forward to your guidance in the future."
"Your Highness Morgan, you flatter me. I am merely a warrior and do not deserve the title of 'instructor'." After saying this, Tristan remained silent.
After a brief and quick analysis, he had to admit that King Arthur's appointment was reasonable.
Considering their social class, compared to knights of commoner origin, he—the son of the wives of King Ronua and King Cornwall—was more suitable as the princess's personal knight, and even the enchantress who disliked King Arthur could not find any fault with him.
The only thing that made Tristan suspicious was that the vixen had been married for many years, so why was it only at this time that King Arthur (his political enemy) assigned her a personal knight (confidant), especially in such an informal meeting?
As if sensing the red-haired knight's hesitation from his silence, the British princess tilted her head slightly, seemingly trying to see the color in Tristan's lowered eyes, and took a step towards him, stopping half an arm's length away. "It was I who took the initiative to propose the matter of the bodyguard knight to Artorius, but rather than wanting a knight, I really wanted a friend."
"Sir Tristan, I hope you can become my friend. Could you grant me this small wish?"
"I have not spoken to you before, nor am I the most outstanding knight at the banquet. Why me?"
"I've heard you're an excellent archer, have superb eyesight, and are adept at navigating relationships with women... Excuse me, I'm not trying to criticize you, but I mean, if it were you, you should be able to see the real 'me'."
Morgan sensed that Tristan hadn't completely dispelled her doubts, but her explanation stopped there.
She genuinely wants a friend.
She was able to comfort her and even talk about King Arthur's friends while he was away on his campaigns.
However, Morgan's way of being considered was too unique. In addition to being meticulous, the candidates also had to be able to identify differences between personalities. The latter alone eliminated most of the names on the list.
Tristan was ultimately chosen. Altorlis said the result was unexpected, yet reasonable.
Aside from the chillingly strong way he comforted women, King Arthur greatly admired Tristan's character of never being violent towards women.
Artorius's words echoed in Morgan's ears: "Sir Bedivere was the first knight to swear allegiance to me; he is the very embodiment of goodness and loyalty. If one were to speak of a knight to whom one could entrust oneself, I believe none could compare. Sir Tristan, on the other hand, is Sir Bedivere's close friend; he is also an excellent knight, though he has been criticized for being too sentimental, which also demonstrates Sir Tristan's empathetic nature."
Because of his intricate connections with the "Island's Master," and his vague foresight of that land filled with lamentations and wailing, and the solitary figure standing atop the blood-red hill, Morgan, his throat tightening, solemnly addressed the red-haired knight in a low, clear voice:
"I trust Lord Bedivere by Artorius's side, and therefore I trust you, Lord Tristan, by 'my' side. You are the only knight I can entrust with my life. I give you everything and believe you will not betray that trust."
-
Camelot, the chalk city, was originally the fortress of Lundinium, which was reclaimed after defeating the tyrannical king Vortigern.
While fighting the White Dragon alongside the Sun Knight, he—the Red Dragon—heard a distant whisper amidst the storm.
The murmurs that seemed like illusions brushed past my ears were a complex mix of emotions, like a sigh, a curse, or a sob.
The King of Britain didn't think much of it. He had heard far too many curses and cries. Beneath his magnificent throne lay piles of corpses, not only from enemies but also from subjects who had once sworn allegiance.
Especially the moment he drew the Sword of the King, the "curse" was implanted into his body.
In the midst of a fierce life-or-death struggle, Artorius, stripped of his usual sword, decisively raised the Holy Lance.
As he gripped the handle of Rungomiyad's gun, an indescribable "something" flowed into his body, accompanied by a chilling sensation that shot up to the back of his neck, as if something that had been frozen was loosening.
On the battlefield, where the situation was extremely critical, King Arthur, with a calm and collected mind, suppressed his myriad thoughts and did not distinguish whether this was due to single-mindedness or something else.
As King Arthur went through one thrilling battle after another, the weapon he wielded changed from time to time, but only when he gripped the Holy Lance tightly did Artoria keenly perceive the gaze cast upon him by a deeper mystery.
Britain will be destroyed. But there is no need for lamentation.
"You will not see Britain's end, but will die at its hands."
He viewed Vortigern's dying words as a harbinger of the future, and even reversed cause and effect: Britain would be destroyed because he died first.
So, in order for the people to be able to smile for longer and longer, he must become an eternal king.
Morgan probably didn't expect that the knowledge she imparted to him during that golden time, which seemed to be just passing the time, would enable him, a knight king, to perceive the true nature of the Holy Lance.
Whether attempting to protect or stabilize the world, neither the Holy Sword nor the Holy Lance are weapons that humanity can bear.
However, the red dragon's physical body is different from that of a fragile human, and it can withstand the divinity of the Holy Lance. Therefore, rather than using the Holy Sword to defeat the concept of "destruction", Artorius uses the Holy Lance Rungomniyade more often, thus sealing the mysterious magical world within his body.
"Dominators and the dominated—humans are creatures where only one side can achieve happiness."
The more suffering the king endures, the richer the nation becomes.
Merlin, who refuses to accept the end, tries to continue the story of the island by constantly tempting him to abandon his human nature as soon as possible, yet he also allows him to resist "divinity".
With the Holy Lance in hand, Artoria gradually moved closer to becoming a "transcendent" like Uther, a king who no longer felt tormented.
This should have been a natural process, however...
During one of his triumphant returns, after learning from the guards that King Arthur had not only used the Holy Lance but also suffered an injury that even the scabbard could not immediately heal, the British princess displayed a profound expression on her face at the celebratory banquet, unlike the jubilant and dancing subjects. This caused Artoria to almost mistake her for the island's ruler.
To display his royal dignity and nobility before the people, King Arthur left the ball to his delighted subordinates. He originally intended to find Morgan and tell her not to worry too much, but the witch who had hidden her tracks did not give him a chance to apologize.
King Arthur had no choice but to return to his bedroom alone to rest and heal his wounds.
Nothing was said that night.
The next day, when Artorius opened his eyes in the morning light, the first thing he felt was the cool strands of hair spread across his chest and arms, and the slender female body pressed against his side.
Realizing the identity of the person in his arms, Artorius suddenly slowed his breathing and gently looked at the other's face.
Her fair and beautiful face shone like a pearl under the sunlight, her long eyelashes casting two faint silhouettes on her cheeks, and her lips, pink and full, beneath her delicate nose, were tempting to kiss.
The British princess's breath fell softly and slowly onto Artorius's chest, the heat spreading from her skin so intense it felt like it would burn him.
In a daze, the British Red Dragon thought he was still dreaming.
Before Artorius could decide his next move, Morgan, the noblewoman who had slipped into King Arthur's bed to quickly replenish his magic through physical contact, was awakened by the commotion.
The princess, still half-asleep, propped herself up with her hands, calmly surveying King Arthur's condition. She interpreted the blond youth's gleaming gaze as unease, and with a gentle, comforting smile, she spoke first:
"Arthur, how can I bear to lecture you when I see you injured like this?"
Morgan then solemnly warned, "Never overuse Rungominiad, or you will be corrupted by it, and in the worst case, you will become an arrogant god."
Without the slightest hesitation, King Arthur said, "Morgan, if the gods can save the people, then..." His words were interrupted by Morgan's embrace.
The golden light streaming in from the window spread out beneath the bed curtains, outlining the silhouettes of two figures beneath the covers.
A pair of slender arms embraced the golden-haired king's shoulders, one delicate hand resting on the back of his neck, while the other combed through his shimmering golden hair from below.
As Artoria was passively enveloped in the soft, warm fragrance of her rounded, voluptuous body, all her senses became dulled. Yet, the words that came from above her head were crystal clear: "No matter how many wishes or responsibilities you bear, even if you abandon everything else as a king, I hope you can be yourself and live as Artoria Pendragon."
The moment the sword of the King's Choice was drawn, she was killed by him, but the British princess held him tenderly in her arms.
"You are simply 'Artorius Pendragon,' and that is the meaning of everything."
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