My Mom is King Arthur Chapter 19

"Trust me, I have enough ability to convince her."

In Old English, third-person pronouns distinguished between feminine and masculine. The "her" Artorius used confirmed to Morgan that this prince knew the secret of her sister's identity.

"Hmph, this is betrayal, isn't it? Conspiring with someone like me—are you sure that's alright, dear Artorius?"

"Father King's burden is too heavy, isn't it? As his son, isn't it only natural to share that burden and fulfill filial piety?"

"Heh, hmph, heheheh~ This one has never met anyone who could make 'rebellion' sound so unique~"

Morgan le Fay was amused by Artorius. "But it doesn't matter. In the end, the one who'll regret and weep tears of sorrow is that foolish little brother of mine—so then, speak. What benefit do you want from me, young prince?"

She breathed softly by Arthur's ear, her tone seductive, making Arthur think of many interesting things.

"Cooperate with me." As Arthur struggled to tactically suppress his rising impulse, he also lowered his voice, whispering intimately while conveying his will.

"No, wait, this voice, this feeling..."

Just as Arthur was tactically suppressing his impulse, Morgan le Fay was also tactically crossing her legs at that moment.

A bishonen of peerless beauty, seven or eight parts similar to the sister she both loved and hated, yet with a conspiratorial flavor quite like her own. Whether in status, appearance, ability, or temperament, everything about him fit her tastes.

He was a Saber-face specialist, a specialist against twisted souls and wicked women thirsting for love, a specialist against mature, beautiful women. The unparalleled Artorius, where three specializations merged into one. The "pure white" Evil Dragon Prince.

Normally, an evil dragon and a prince were mutually hostile. The evil dragon devoured the prince; the prince slew the evil dragon. But in an extremely abnormal state, when the "evil dragon" became the "prince"—

When sharp fangs and boundless terror merged with gentleness, salvation, sunlight—all the words that described a "prince"—the world's one and only "Evil Dragon Prince," Artorius Pendragon, was born.

He possessed both the evil dragon's plunder and possessiveness, and the prince's tenderness and passion. Their fusion was a deadly poison to women. More pervasive, more hidden, and more lethal than any so-called "love potion."

And of course, more real.

In this love game of mutual probing, from the very start, Morgan le Fay was at a disadvantage.

Though her peerless beauty and bearing also attracted Artorius immensely, in the end, that was only because Arthur was lecherous. Swap her for another plump, sexy older sister—say, some purple bba—and he'd fall for her just the same.

That is to say, Morgan had already lost.

Yes, indeed, lost.

Undoubtedly lost.

Morgan: "This scent."

Artorius: "Cooperate with me, achieve my goals, and I'll give you Britannia."

Morgan: "This feeling."

Artorius: "As for the specifics of what I need you to do—Usurp Fate—do you know that magecraft?"

Morgan: "This fate."

Artorius: "..."

He stopped his conversation with Morgan, even preparing to halt their dance steps, because he sensed Morgan's state was off.

"Usurp Fate?"

Of course, the next second, Morgan had snapped back to her senses, emerging from that intoxicated state. She returned to normal.

Not the gentle woman craving love. Not the brave and battle-hardened woman. But the most common one—the venomous, resentful woman.

"Yes," Artorius said. "You should know my plan and my grand ambition, right?"

"Rome." Morgan le Fay gazed at Arthur. "Everyone says that one day, you'll start a war, destroy Rome, and take its place."

"That's right." Arthur didn't hesitate. On the soil of Britannia, far from Rome's control, he no longer needed to hide his ambition: "So, I need your help."

Though he held no advantage in age or build, the bishonen unhesitatingly reached out in an "active" posture, lifting Morgan's chin.

"I need you, Morgan le Fay, to join me. Fulfill my wishes, and I will cede to you the concept of Lord of the Island inherited from the vile king Vortigern. I will help you become the Queen of Britannia."

For an instant, Morgan le Fay's heartbeat quickened by a beat.

"Then, what can I do for the great commander?"

She said, "What exactly do you mean by 'Usurp Fate'...?"

"The Mandate of Heaven."

Artorius released his hand. The dance continued; after letting go of Morgan's waist and letting her complete a spin, he Held in Arms again: "Before attacking Rome, I must obtain the Mandate of Heaven."

"Rome's Mandate of Heaven? You want to usurp Rome's Mandate into your hands?"

"No." Artorius then spoke words that surprised Morgan: "What I want to usurp is the Mandate of Heaven belonging to 'Francia'—that fate destined to replace Rome, to become the representative of the Germans, the master of Europe.

I want its fate. You can do it, can't you, Morgan?"

"I..."

If she could, Morgan truly wanted to say to Artorius, "Yes, I can do it," and then throw herself into his arms without a second thought.

But she couldn't.

It wasn't a matter of saving face...

Well, to be honest, it was a bit of a face issue. But the bigger reason was that what Arthur asked for was something Morgan le Fay couldn't do.

"I can't do it."

She said, "That goes beyond the bounds of magecraft, almost like a miracle. Even a god couldn't casually transfer the fate of a person, a tribe, or a nation."

"You said 'casually'." Artorius seized on the key word in Morgan's words:

"Can I take that to mean, under certain conditions, you can do it?"

Author's Notes:

Updated, lalala.

Begging for monthly tickets, lalala.

Wishing everyone an early happy 5.1, lalala.

Chapter 32: Why Won't You Love Me

Under Arthur's gaze, burning with the fire of desire, Morgan le Fay swallowed. Though she didn't want to, the fact was that subconsciously, Morgan was at a disadvantage when facing Artorius.

Reluctant as she was, being at a disadvantage, she still spoke Arthur's desires aloud.

"I can conduct research... but it would be best to find mages who specialize deeper in the study of 'fate.' The more top-tier mages, the better." She said to Arthur, "Besides that, there needs to be enormous magical power. And... you must have complete control over the target whose 'fate' you want to transfer."

"Enormous magical power—that's no problem."

Arthur's eyes flickered. "Complete control... that's also no problem."

"As for the mages who study 'fate' most deeply... do you have anyone in mind?"

"I..."

"You do, don't you?"

The distance between Artorius and Morgan le Fay grew even closer. At this range, it seemed like just a little more and he could kiss her rosy lips. As if, with just a bit more force, he could press his seductive, sexy aunt against the wall and ravish her body...

"Yes, I do."

Under such pressure, Morgan compromised once again. And she named the person she knew who was most familiar with "fate."

That was a figure who appeared in both Celtic mythology and Norse mythology.

In the modern age, after Ragnarok, when many gods had fallen and the rest had retreated into the Inner Sea of Stars, unable to emerge—the tail end of the Age of Gods—that person was the best candidate Artorius could find.

A top-tier mage familiar with all Rune magic, whose name was:

"Scathach."

Arthur looked thoughtful, with an expression that said, "Ah, I'm not surprised at all to hear that name."

At the same time, watching the fire of desire flash in Arthur's eyes—though it was fleeting—Morgan le Fay felt jealousy.

"This man, even now holding my waist and dancing with me, is thinking of another woman."

This emotion of jealousy, unimaginable when they first met, gnawed at Morgan le Fay's heart.

"Great, with her, that makes two."

At the same time, seemingly unaware of Morgan's inner turmoil, Arthur showed a pleased smile and calculated other candidates—

The more excellent mages, the better.

With that premise, at least three candidates were needed.

As for "ordinary mages," with the Evil Dragon Prince's current influence, he really could have as many as he wanted.

As the final glory of the Age of Gods, the mages on Roman territory numbered in the tens of thousands. The number Arthur could win over was certainly not small...

But when it came to "top-tier" excellent mages...

"Merlin?"

That frivolous man was the first to come to Arthur's mind.

"That pleasure-seeker, I wonder if he'll help... fifty-fifty."

If it were in his capacity as "National Teacher of Britannia," Merlin probably wouldn't agree to such a "dangerous" move from Arthur.

But if it were in his capacity as a "pleasure-seeker," then that Half-Incubus, who loved watching the world burn, might be even more eager to stir up trouble than Arthur himself.

After all, back then, when he agreed to Arthur's grandfather, King Uther, to create an "artificial savior," that guy was exactly like that.

"I'll tentatively count Merlin as one. But Merlin alone probably isn't enough, hmph..."

Thinking this, Arthur thought of another candidate. At the same time, Morgan, who had been watching him closely, immediately confirmed that he was thinking of another woman.

"Damn it, this womanizing bastard. The one right in front of you is me!" Her jealousy and resentment toward Artorius increased.

"Counting that one, that makes four."

At the same time, Arthur finished his calculations. He refocused his attention on the woman before him.

"Very good."

Confirming that his plan had advanced another step, he was in a good mood and flashed a bright smile at Morgan le Fay.

"..."

That was something this woman had never received before.

Not from her father, not from her sister, not from any of her children.

She was clearly the eldest daughter, yet her father always favored her sister. He poured all his love into her sister, and even went to such pains to scheme so her sister could become the ruler of Britannia.

She was the eldest daughter—by right of inheritance, she came first.

Even by "mystery," she had inherited the authority of the "Lord of the Island," a child who had received blessings. Her status was higher than that of an "artificial savior"!

Why did he focus all his attention on her sister? Why couldn't he give even a little more love to her?

Then, after growing up, for a time, Morgan also thought about loving her sister as family.

But it didn't work.

They were family, after all—sisters. Even if they hadn't lived together as children due to family circumstances, they were still sisters. And she had helped her sister so much. But why, why wouldn't her sister even look at her properly?

She didn't want to be with her, didn't want to accept her feelings, didn't like her. If that was the case, then she didn't want such a sister anymore.

And those children—as children, shouldn't they unconditionally obey their mother's commands? They should unconditionally obey her, love her, respect her—but why, why did all the children gather around Artoria instead?!

Just thinking about it ignited hatred and resentment, surging up without pause. Then her emotions would spiral out of control, burning with rage, wanting to destroy everything that foolish sister cherished...

Ah, no, not destroy—take away.

No, that wasn't right either.

Those were all her things to begin with, so it was merely returning them to their rightful owner.

This Britannia, this throne, familial bonds, friendship, love—everything. She would take it all back from Artoria.