"Guinevere, you bastard!"
"Mmm-hmm-hmm, I'm indeed deeply sinful. Is that enough?"
As the two ethereal 'maidens' emerged from the room, they immediately caught the eye of the servants in the corridor.
This was the first time they had ever seen Guinevere and Morgan like this.
However, since Guinevere often smiled at them and occasionally shared small pastries she had made herself—treats usually reserved for the knights—the servants simply assumed that the girlish, Faerie-like Guinevere was in an exceptionally good mood today.
As for Morgan, they stared in stunned silence. They could never have imagined that the perpetually gloomy Morgan, who always looked as if everyone owed her money, could have such a playful side.
Of course, due to their hair colors and the way their skirts fluttered, the servants never mistook Morgan for the King of Knights.
They watched dumbly as the pair strolled out of the corridor and into the Training Ground. There, they saw Morgan struggling wildly, yet Guinevere stood firmly behind her, forcibly raising her hands to greet her third child and the assembled knights.
They could see Morgan's face, flushed crimson and on the verge of tears, as Guinevere tightened her embrace even further.
"Guinevere, you bastard! I'm going to kill you!"
This wasn't a coincidence. Guinevere had informed Gawain, Gareth, and Gaheris to come to the Training Ground and wait.
Besides them, the King of Knights, Agravain, and the others in the Throne Room, situated diagonally above, also witnessed the scene.
In the Training Ground, the steadfast Gawain and the still-youthful Gareth and Gaheris managed to maintain their composure.
Only in the Throne Room did Agravain, ever gloomy, look like his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.
Morgan had specifically sought him out, urging him to destroy the King of Knights' Kingdom. He still vividly remembered her crazed fury that day, and he could never have imagined his mother having such a girlish side.
Beside him, the King of Knights wasn't surprised by Morgan's current state. Having herself been transformed by Guinevere's influence, she believed in Guinevere's power to change others.
Yet, the King of Knights' gaze fell on Guinevere's arms encircling Morgan, noting their bodies pressed chest to back. Suddenly, she wondered if she was truly capable of sacrificing as much for the Kingdom as she had imagined.
Her hands clenched unconsciously into fists, her expression reverting to its usual solemnity, concealing all traces of emotion. But as Agravain, reeling from a psychic blow, collapsed against the Magecraft-crafted glass window, the King of Knights snapped out of her daze and exhaled deeply.
She repeated to herself, I believe in Guinevere, but resolved to question Guinevere that evening about her true intentions.
It was precisely because Morgan shared her face, possessed a more mature physique, and the King of Knights harbored a hint of regret about her own stunted growth, that she felt so profoundly uneasy.
At that moment, the King of Knights couldn't bear to imagine the torment she would endure if, for the sake of the kingdom, she yielded to Morgan's demands and later witnessed Guinevere and Morgan entwined in their chambers.
Guinevere, this is your fault for teaching me to show my emotions. Sister, I'm sorry, but Guinevere is the one person I won't sacrifice myself for.
The King of Knights recognized she was acting uncharacteristically, but fortunately, her years of concealing her emotions since drawing the sword had trained her well. Even when deep breaths failed to quell the turmoil in her heart, she could still force herself back into her usual solemn composure.
Her emotions surged until Guinevere, dragging Morgan, vanished from her sight.
As her mind settled, an unexpected smile graced the King of Knights' face, and she let out a deeper breath.
She felt a surge of joy at Lady Morgan's appearance, and she began to hope that Guinevere might truly bring about a change in her.
At least for now, the King of Knights still recognized this sister who shared her features and wished for her to find happiness.
Meanwhile, back with Guinevere and Morgan...
Morgan was still being dragged along by Guinevere, utterly humiliated. The promise of a meal was forgotten; she now only wanted to remove the Magic-Sealing Necklace and kill Guinevere, who had humiliated her so thoroughly.
But the same problem remained: as a mage, she couldn't defeat a knight of comparable strength in close combat.
"Lady Morgan, haven't you had enough tantrums? If you keep acting like a child, you'll only embarrass yourself further!"
Morgan hadn't cried when her father died, when her mother remarried, or when all her children disobeyed her. But feeling Guinevere's warmth and having her face forcibly pinched, Morgan wanted to weep, to release all the pent-up grievances of the years.
But she restrained herself, surpassing even the King of Knights in controlling her emotions. While the King of Knights masked her feelings with solemnity, Morgan hid hers behind malice.
She took a deep breath, ceasing her struggles, but her gaze toward Guinevere sharpened with menace, making Guinevere wonder if she had administered too strong a dose of the potion.
But after that fleeting moment of menace, Morgan unexpectedly smiled, taking Guinevere's hand.
"Just now, in the Throne Room, I noticed my dear sister's expressions shifting constantly—utterly fascinating."
Her lips curled upward, like a fox who had stolen a chicken. This mischievousness made Guinevere momentarily lose her composure, as if Morgan had truly become a young girl again.
"Hey, hey, Guinevere, why don't we head back to the Training Ground for a while? I'll give you a shoulder massage and a back rub, as long as my dear sister is still there~"
Guinevere's heart skipped a beat, her thoughts snapping back from their daze. She finally understood why Morgan had reverted to her youthful self: despite her injuries, she had gained something she had long desired but couldn't obtain—something that brought her both physical and emotional satisfaction.
From Morgan's words, it was clear that the King of Knights was deeply disturbed by their earlier physical contact.
Lost in thought, Guinevere instinctively wanted to pull away, but Morgan tightened her embrace. Morgan said:
"You don't have to return to the Training Ground right now. But if you struggle again, I'll never help you with my sister's child!"
Morgan's smiling threat was far more intimidating than her usual dark, crazed outbursts.
Now it was Guinevere's turn to take a deep breath. Yet as she gazed at Morgan's radiant, smiling face, she felt no regret for wanting Morgan to be more cheerful.
I'm the one asking for her help. I can't bear to see Artoria's face so gloomy, Guinevere thought. Still, just in case, she spoke up, even knowing she might be accused of being presumptuous:
"Alright, let's keep this up. But I need to make something clear first: I only love Lia. If you develop feelings for me, you're not allowed to go mad if I reject you."
"Guinevere, aren't you a bit too narcissistic?"
Morgan released Guinevere's arm as if she had touched something filthy.
Guinevere shrugged and smiled. After glaring at her for a moment, neither woman moved to hold hands again, as if both harbored some lingering fear.