Time passed—a day, a month...
Guinevere had become a familiar face among the King of Knights' knights.
At present, the Knight Academy she was responsible for was still in its preparatory stages. Her daily routine consisted of morning training at the Training Ground, followed by free time in the afternoon, and sleeping with the King of Knights at night.
During her free time recently, Guinevere had been spending most of it in her elder sister-in-law Morgan's room.
During their previous battle, Guinevere had agreed to certain conditions to secure Morgan's assistance. Now that the debt was due, Morgan had no reason to refuse Guinevere's fulfillment of those terms.
"No means no! I'll never give the sex-change potion to Lia!"
"Is your promise worth less than air?"
"Don't you know I even deceived the King of Knights? You always said the prettier a woman is, the more likely she is to lie!"
What does a witch's chamber even look like? At least Morgan's chamber bore no resemblance to one; it was merely an ordinary, lavishly decorated room befitting a noblewoman.
"Guinevere, I've told you the potion's effects are temporary. Besides, do you truly not want a child by that bastard's offspring?"
"Regardless, shouldn't you hate Merlin and King Uther instead? Why take your anger out on Lia, who wasn't even born then? Is it because one is long dead and the other is impossible to defeat?"
"Fine, I won't call her a bastard. Let's call her my useless little sister instead. Now tell me, do you really not want a child by that bastard's offspring?"
The original condition Guinevere was supposed to fulfill was simply to obtain a drop of the King of Knights' blood, though she had intended to renege on even that.
The situation escalated because Guinevere asked if Morgan could create a child for her and the King of Knights. This sparked Morgan's ambition, and she somehow procured a potion that allowed the drinker to transform.
The Witch had always been obsessed with perpetuating the Pendragon bloodline.
"You're a Witch. Surely you can create the child with just my and Lia's blood?"
"Who told you blood alone was enough? Fine, if you despise even your transformed, worthless sister, then just give me her essence after she transforms!"
In Le Morte d'Arthur, the King of Knights is male, and Mordred is genuinely Morgan's illegitimate son by him.
In the Fate setting, the King of Knights is tricked into transforming by Morgan's schemes. She then extracts her essence and blood, combining them with her own... materials to create Mordred.
"Guinevere, you've only just married that worthless sister of mine. You have time to think about this slowly.
But what about two years from now, or even longer? A kingdom without an heir is destined for turmoil. I can't wait to see your expression then.
And let me remind you again: I will never allow you to taint the Pendragon bloodline with foreign blood!"
From behind her veil, Morgan's voice remained stern. Yet, no matter how harsh her tone, her voice itself was still gentle—a contradiction that made Guinevere want to punch her all over again.
"I understand. I'll make a decision within two years. But in the meantime, could you please look into a way to conceive a child using only blood?"
Guinevere had been a girl in both her past and present lives, and she couldn't even bear to imagine being intimate with a man—even if that man was the King of Knights transformed by a potion.
She was certain that no amount of time would ever change her mind.
"Hah... Lady Morgan, let's stop here for today."
In truth, Guinevere and Morgan had little to say to each other. Every conversation they had inevitably ended with both of them feeling resentful.
After watching Guinevere leave, Morgan stood motionless for a moment before abruptly bursting into laughter, her eyes filled with pity for the girl.
"If you weren't so fond of women, you'd be ecstatic right now, wouldn't you?"
Removing her veil, Morgan revealed a face strikingly similar to the King of Knights, the most significant difference being their completely different hair colors.
She sat down, sipped her tea, and began to anticipate the future. She found herself wondering what expression Guinevere would wear if she were the one to create a child with the King of Knights.
"Did you think I wouldn't do it just because you refused to help? You have only yourself to blame for sparking my interest."
Morgan had borne many children with men she didn't love. In her eyes, Guinevere's anguish was nothing more than self-inflicted misery.
"It's just... Gawain is disobedient, Agravain is disobedient, and Gaheris and Gareth are disobedient too. In that sense, I've been a complete failure as a mother. If I create another child, will she also refuse to listen to me?"
She raised her cup, and the red tea slid down her throat. Morgan couldn't help but think of her children, and the serene expression on her face began to crumble. She gripped the delicate teacup so tightly that the handle shattered, sending the cup and its contents crashing between her closed legs.
Thud!
Morgan slammed her fist on the table, her anger mounting with every thought.
Meanwhile, Guinevere had wandered off in a daze, so lost in thought that she didn't even hear her attending maidservant calling her name.
It wasn't until a stunningly cute young girl blocked her path in the wide corridor that she snapped out of it.
"Greetings, Queen Guinevere. I am Elaine Pellas, daughter of the Fisher King Pelles. I am to be married to Sir Lancelot."
Her thoughts shattered, Guinevere's eyes focused, instantly imprinting the image of the girl—who radiated an inexplicable hostility toward her—into her mind.
"Elaine Pelles? Lancelot?"
Just as she emerged from her daze, Guinevere fell back into another. She remembered the story from Le Morte d'Arthur: Lancelot had been tricked by the Fisher King and slept with Princess Elaine, who had used magecraft to disguise herself as Guinevere.
At this thought, a wave of nausea washed over Guinevere, but she also understood Elaine's inexplicable hostility toward her.
"Queen, I must thank you," Elaine said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It was your command—that Sir Lancelot must marry before returning—that fulfilled my wish. The moment my father proposed the marriage, Sir Lancelot agreed to take me as his wife."
She paused, her smile twisting with undisguised resentment. "Though I suspect Sir Lancelot would have married anyone."
The cute girl smiled, but her expression was laced with open malice. Listening to her words, Guinevere studied her closely. Then, Guinevere's brow arched in surprise—she realized she didn't need to feel nauseated just yet.
She sensed that this Princess Elaine was still a virgin. The disgusting event from her memories hadn't happened yet.
"Is that so?" Guinevere replied, her own smile now genuinely kind, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. "Then you should thank me properly. And I wish you the best in capturing Sir Lancelot's heart. Judging by your expression, you must be quite pleased with him, aren't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't be looking at me with such eyes."
As Elaine stared, momentarily stunned, Guinevere's mood lifted slightly. She reached out and patted the young girl's head.
So, Lancelot... he's really back...
Guinevere sighed inwardly as she walked past Elaine and headed toward the room she shared with the King of Knights.