My Mom is King Arthur Chapter 18

In the manor, Mordred, now in light attire, nestled skillfully into the crook of Artorius's arm, reaching out to wrap around his waist. From this gesture, she drew warmth and reassurance. Then she continued to ask:

"But..."

"Because of desire," Artorius said cheerfully. "That aunt of mine... and your mother, she wants this country, wants Britannia to be hers. So, you see~"

As always, the sensation of his sister's trained, pert rear pressing against his thigh brought Artorius a smile brighter than usual. And as always, in his conversations with Mordred, he favored a guiding approach, leading her to think, to train his dear sister's logical reasoning.

"So..."

Unlike Artorius, whose smile was radiant, Mordred's expression grew heavy and pained.

Like her other siblings, she had been sent by Morgan to the Knights of the Round Table, naturally with the intent to harm King Arthur. An assassin. But in the end, just like her brothers and sisters, she too had betrayed Morgan le Fay.

From this, one could see just how failed a mother this enchantress of Britannia truly was. Her children had formed a club dedicated to betraying her.

"She'll come looking for you, Brother, to do you harm..."

"Yes." Artorius nodded with a smile. "Because now, compared to Father King, I'm a much bigger threat to her rule over Britannia, hmph hmph hmph."

Mordred: "..."

"Little Mo, are you worried about me?"

Seeing his sister's somewhat gloomy expression, Artorius smiled. "Don't worry. Dealing with that woman, I'm still fairly confident."

"But..."

"Oh, are you worried about your mother?" Artorius pressed on, continuing to reassure her. "Relax, I won't really do anything to her. After all, she is my aunt."

Artorius's assurance dispelled most of Mordred's anxiety.

The remainder vanished in his sweet kiss.

When Artorius looked at her with gentle eyes, the Pavlovian conditioned reflex kicked in, and Mordred swiftly entered a state of alert readiness.

Artorius, using both hands, felt the warmth of his dear sister in his arms, then lowered his head.

"Mmph—"

Even though it had happened many times before, this encounter still thrilled Mordred.

"Brother," she murmured, hooking her arms around Artorius's neck.

Outside, she always appeared strong and unruly, but before Artorius, she was as soft as a lamb. Her body and heart were completely his captive, utterly mastered.

After Artorius landed in Britannia, he did not immediately head north to Camelot as some had expected. Instead, he lingered at a manor near Lundenia, living a blissful life of shared days and nights with Little Mo. By day, they sparred and practiced swords; by night, they continued sparring and practicing swords. Life was boundless joy. Little Mo forgot everything. What Britannia? What Father and Mother? What Morgan le Fay? Who were they? Was Mordred even familiar with them?

This pleasant life lasted four and a half days. Then, just as Artorius had predicted, something happened.

That evening, while Artorius and Mordred were enjoying a candlelit dinner, just before Artorius was about to tell his sister a twisted fairy tale, he sensed a ripple of "Ether."

Clearly, Mordred, sitting across from him, did not notice it. Either she wasn't sensitive enough, or her attention was too focused on Artorius.

So it wasn't until Artorius snapped his fingers and added a place setting at the side of the table that she reacted, realizing her mother, Morgan le Fay, had arrived.

Author's Notes:

Updated, lalala

Third chapter today, begging for monthly tickets, knife votes, recommendation tickets—begging for everything!

Chapter thirty, want it?

Mom's Morgan.jpg

"..."

It was a beautiful mature woman in a black dress and black veil. Through the translucent veil, a face eight-tenths similar to Mordred's could be seen.

If Little Mo grew up to be a mature woman, she'd probably look something like this, right?

"No, that's not right. A mature-bodied, mature-aged Mordred... I can't quite picture it." Artorius's imagination was a bit lacking in that area, proving he was still a good boy.

In terms of appearance, Aunt was more alluring than Mordred, and her figure was even more seductive. Curves in all the right places, far surpassing Little Mo's youthful form. Artorius silently gave it a thumbs-up.

"Morgan le Fay."

"Artorius."

Come to think of it, this was Artorius's first meeting with his aunt. The two raised their glasses to each other in greeting, smiling as if there were no hostility, which let Mordred breathe a sigh of relief.

Just moments ago, sensing her mother's arrival, she had nearly drawn her sword and lunged—

—At her mother, of course. Who else?

However, after the toast, Artorius set his glass back down.

"Did you put a potion in the wine?"

Morgan's voice lived up to her figure and looks. It was that sexy, slightly husky, seductive tone. It easily made one wonder what songs she might sing if thrown onto a bed and... well, you know.

"Of course not."

At her attempt to turn the tables, Artorius nearly laughed. "It's you, Aunt Morgan." He leaned forward slightly, his face looking a bit sinister in the candlelight. "You're the one who put a magic potion in it, aren't you?"

"..."

"..."

The two stared at each other, holding the gaze for a moment, then both broke into cheerful laughter at the same time. The laughter carried genuine delight, not the hollow kind that barely touched the lips.

This only made Mordred more uneasy. Her wariness didn't lessen—it sharpened instead.

"So, you're here just to wait for me?" Morgan asked Arthur. After receiving an affirmative response, the beautiful mature woman leaned back, accentuating the curves of her figure. Her gaze toward Arthur was laced with confusion and seduction. Because earlier, she had seen in his eyes admiration, desire, and a thirst to conquer.

Just like the men she had encountered before.

He desired her. That meant she could use this man to achieve her own goals. For Morgan, this was second nature—simple and effortless.

"What else would it be?"

"Mm~ Perhaps we should find another place to discuss things properly?" Morgan's eyes flickered with provocative intent.

"Sure, no problem."

"Elder Brother?!"

Hearing Arthur agree, Mordred grew anxious. In her heart, her mother was an utterly terrifying existence. The thought of letting Arthur face Morgan le Fay alone filled her with dread.

"Relax, Little Mo, it's fine." Arthur said this while holding Mordred's hand.

"But—"

"Trust me, trust me..."

Under Arthur's reassurance, Mordred calmed down again. A slightly silly smile spread across her face.

"Your brother isn't as useless as you think. Don't worry."

"Mm, mm."

From the side, Morgan watched coldly. Meanwhile, the jealousy within her swelled higher and higher.

She had never poured much maternal love into Mordred. In fact, many times, seeing that face—so like a reflection of her own sister—stirred her emotions to the point of erupting into murderous intent.

But now, watching Mordred bask in Artorius's affection, watching the sibling bond play out, she still felt fury and resentment.

That was her daughter. That was her possession. And she had been snatched away. Bastards, bastards—every last one of the Pendragon family was a bastard. This one, that one, all of them.

Unknowingly, she had cursed herself too. The enchantress who brought ruin to the nation clenched her teeth tightly until Arthur finished soothing Mordred and turned back to her. Only then did she flash him a smile as seductive as a poppy.

The next second, Artorius and Morgan le Fay vanished, leaving only Mordred behind.

The girl who deeply loved her brother felt a heavy sense of unease.

Arthur had said, "It'll definitely be fine." But what would actually happen remained unknown.

Until her brother returned, Mordred had to prepare for the worst.

"Please stay safe, Elder Brother."

She prayed silently.

At the same time.

While Mordred silently prayed for Artorius.

Hundreds of kilometers away, in Morgan le Fay's castle.

This magically fortified stronghold, bristling with defenses, opened its gates easily for Artorius.

The situation was completely different from what Mordred had imagined—in fact, the exact opposite.

Artorius and Morgan le Fay were getting along splendidly.

The air was thick with the scent of exotic incense. Magic Puppets served as musicians, playing smooth and elegant melodies.

Moonlight and starlight, magnified many times over by magical effects, poured into the castle hall, bathing it in dazzling radiance.

In this dreamlike ballroom, Artorius held Morgan le Fay by the waist and danced gracefully.

They gazed at each other, watching the desire in one another's eyes heat up and burn brighter. Morgan confirmed from this that this bishonen was nothing like his mother. There was no sense of righteousness or integrity about him—instead, he was a man driven by worldly appetites.

For Artoria, as long as there was clean water and enough Black Bread to keep up her strength for battle, that was enough. She could sleep in a stable and wear her armor constantly.

But for Artorius, he reveled in fine wine, exquisite food, and beautiful women. He loved palaces and luxury.

"Not bad dancing."

"You too."

The ambiguous atmosphere grew warmer. Though they had only just met, there was a sense of regretting not having found each other sooner.

Well, if you thought about it, she was his aunt—his Father King's sister. Also a close relative. So it wasn't unacceptable that they shared some personality traits. Perfectly normal, right?

"So, why did you specially invite me here, anyway?"

Her voice was as seductive as ever, and her self-reference had softened with tenderness. But that feigned gentleness vanished the moment Arthur spoke his next words, replaced by bone-deep venom and hatred.

"Britannia—do you want it?"

Facing Morgan le Fay, the Warlord of the German Army, the Crown Prince of Camelot, Artorius, asked in a casual tone.

As if he were asking Morgan whether she felt like having a T-bone steak.

"Cooperate with me, and I'll consider giving you the British Isles."

As if joking, Arthur said this to her.

Author's Notes:

First update today.

Unlike Artoria, who sees the British Isles as everything, Arthur is willing to sell them off as long as the price is right. Of course, that "price" is exceedingly high.

Next update at 9:30.

Chapter 31: The Evil Dragon Prince and the Vengeful Enchantress

"Are you mocking me, King's Son of King Arthur?"

The dance continued. Artorius still held Morgan's waist, pressed together loosely but firmly, yet her gaze had shifted—temptation laced with danger. As if at the slightest disagreement, she would unleash everything she had—her black magic, her Noble Phantasm, her body, her nails, her teeth—to kill the man before her with all her might.

"..."

Artorius began to understand a little why the other Knights of the Round Table always harbored such "subtle" emotions when speaking of Morgan le Fay.

This madness and hatred could chill a person to the marrow of their bones.

"Not at all."

Yet Artorius ignored Morgan's hatred and madness, speaking to her in a gentle tone, like a tender lover:

"Because compared to what I seek, the mere territory of the British Isles is a bargain for This Prince."

"Oh...? Is that so?"

As if an illusion, the hatred and madness from moments ago vanished completely. Morgan le Fay reverted to that enchanting, kingdom-toppling enchantress: "Your Father King likely wouldn't approve of this."