"Awake?"
Finding no more info, Artoria returned home, heart settled. Seeing the mysterious woman with violet-blue eyes open, she sensed another presence, familiar yet unknown.
\"Sorry to disturb you.\
Morgan, lying in bed, smiled as her magic hadn't returned, but her face wasn't as pale. Meeting her sister's reincarnation, she feared scaring Artoria.
"I won't ask how you were hurt—just your name."
Artoria, intrigued by the woman who'd totaled her car on first sight, wanted to know who she was, feeling a strange familiarity.
"Curious about me, little sister?"
Morgan studied Artoria's emerald eyes, alive with curiosity. After centuries, she knew Artoria wanted her identity—but Morgan le Fay's name had no good reputation.
"What's wrong?"
Artoria pressed, sensing a woman with a past she wanted to know.
"Morgan... Morgan le Fay."
"You know the name?"
Morgan finally spoke, watching Artoria for disgust. If Artoria hated her, she'd vanish forever—for she'd destroyed Arthur's kingdom in Envy.
She didn't expect forgiveness, watching Artoria's face.
"Morgan? A lovely name."
Artoria showed no disgust, calm. Arthur's fall wasn't her fault—if a kingdom blamed one woman, it deserved to fall.
"Do you truly believe that?"
Morgan's eyes widened, startled by Artoria's manner, then she realized what she'd been hoping for—her sister's reincarnation would have no memory of the past. She'd missed her chance to apologize, the chance to say sorry to her sister.
"What's wrong? You look suddenly down."
Artoria was curious about the way Morgan's head drooped in sudden gloom, yet without thinking she stepped to Morgan's side and rested a hand on her shoulder. While comforting the despondent woman, she wondered why she was doing this. Was King Arthur's Spirit Core inside her reacting? Was this woman the sister of this world's Arthur—was she her own royal sister?
No, this isn't scientific—this is Marvel! How could FGO settings show up here? What on Earth is going on? How could something so absurd happen? King Arthur's sister, Morgan le Fay, appearing here? Artoria's mind was in turmoil.
"No, it's nothing!"
The unexpected warmth on her shoulder made Morgan freeze. She lifted her head to find Artoria watching her with concern; the figure before her seemed to overlap with the one in her memories, the one who had once treated her so gently.
"If you need anything, just tell me."
Artoria met Morgan's gaze. The sorrow in those eyes made her heart lurch, the feeling so complicated she wanted to flee. Yet as she turned to go after saying those words, someone caught the hem of her clothes.
"Can you stay by my side for a while?"
"Please… please hold me?"
Morgan sat on the bed, head lowered, fingers clutching Artoria's until they blanched. Tears fell onto the warm velvet quilt. This woman who had dominated for a century was shedding genuine tears for the first time—a woman who had hated for love, who after a hundred years' wait had found new hope, and who now refused to let that hope turn to despair again.
"Troublesome woman. Here's my shoulder—cry if you want."
Against her better judgment Artoria turned and embraced the weeping Morgan. Her words were dismissive, yet her heart felt warm; holding Morgan felt like holding the whole world. The tangled feelings inside her quieted, her heart suddenly full.
"I missed you so much, Artoria. I'm sorry… truly sorry, but I really do love you."
The familiar face, the familiar scent, the familiar voice—Morgan could no longer contain her guilt. She hugged Artoria back, kneeling on the bed, pressing most of her body into Artoria's arms. She had waited a hundred years for this moment; her emotions spilled over as she sobbed apologies to her sister, tears streaming onto Artoria's shoulder, soaking it.
"…"
Hearing her own name—Artoria—gave Artoria pause, but she had no time to pursue it; she had to comfort this woman. In this life or the last, nothing unnerved her more than a woman or child crying, especially a heart-rending wail like this.
In the vast, luxurious bedroom two stunning goddesses held each other. Were the old wizard Merlin to see it, he'd think his eyes deceived him; the scene mirrored exactly what had happened a century before. Was this fate?
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