My Mom is King Arthur Chapter 21

The words died in her throat, unable to continue.

Facing Arthur's aggressive gaze, the weakness and fear that belonged to a woman dominated her heart, making Morgan le Fay's legs tremble, nearly incapable of resistance.

Seeing her like this—completely at a disadvantage, unable even to muster bluster or harsh words—Arthur revealed a pleased smile.

He drew close again, then pulled her into his embrace. The effect of fear, the poison's influence, and an inexplicable state of mind left Morgan le Fay utterly pliable.

"It's settled, then."

He said to Morgan le Fay:

"As a first impression, I'm quite satisfied with your abilities. So from now on, let's meet often, Aunt Morgan."

"!"

With that, Arthur drew the dagger out again.

The sharp pain nearly made Morgan convulse—

"I'm going back to accompany Little Mo. Consider this a gift for our first meeting." Arthur tucked the dagger away, leaned close to her ear, and said in a magnetic tone:

"Keep helping me. If you satisfy me, I'll satisfy you too, my dear aunt. Heh, heh, heh heh heh~"

With cheerful laughter, the Evil Dragon Prince vanished without a trace, leaving only blazing frost and the wounded witch, whose heart rippled with defeat.

Author's Notes:

?...

?? Clarent was originally silver. In Mordred's hands it became the pitiful sword, a dark red. Arthur's is a silver-frost hue.

?? As Camelot's Filial Son, Arthur's sword being frost-colored—that makes perfect sense, right?

?? Since Clarent's nickname is the Filial Sword, its appearance ought to be even more filial.

Chapter 35: I Like Children with Determination

"D-Damn it, that b-bastard..."

In the empty, ruined castle, the beautiful mature woman collapsed on the ground, cursing her Pendragon family relative.

Not her father this time, not her sister, not her children—but a nephew she had only just met for the first time.

Though it was only their first meeting, the hatred he had earned from Morgan had already risen to a level rivaling the others.

Of course, aside from "loathing," the "other emotions" she felt toward him were also the strongest and most complicated.

"I-I won't lose."

Dragging her thoroughly disheveled body, she struggled toward her alchemy workshop. The antidote to the poison on the dagger was there.

"I will definitely get revenge on that bastard."

On the way to the workshop, Morgan le Fay fell several times due to pain, pleasure, and exhaustion, even tumbling down a flight of stairs until her face was bruised and swollen. But she persisted and made it.

She dared not cast magic—her current physical state was too terrible, nearly impossible to concentrate.

If she forced a spell in such a chaotic condition, the outcome would surely be miserable.

If it came to that, the next time they met, Arthur wouldn't find his vengeance-driven aunt, but a heap of flesh collapsed on the floor, only good as a meat puppet.

"I won't end like that!"

Stumbling into the Magic Workshop, she fell once more before reaching her limit. Morgan le Fay gasped for air, fighting off dizziness and the surging tide of desire, forcing herself to the cabinet of potions and began rummaging through the bottles and jars.

Those slender fingers, usually capable of handling any material with ease, now trembled uncontrollably, and everything her eyes saw spun around.

"I will get my revenge."

Finally, after haphazardly knocking over many precious or dangerous potions, her trembling hand seized the bottle containing the antidote. Morgan opened it impatiently, poured it into her mouth, and let out a satisfied "Ahhh~" sound. Then a violent "sensation" surged up.

Her body began to recover. But at the same time, the flames of passion blazed higher.

What could she say.

She had brought this on herself.

When crafting the poison, considering how she might capture and then entertain her dear sister, Morgan le Fay had added a debuff beyond paralysis and weakness—getting high.

Originally, Morgan had imagined many scenarios: watching her dear sister fall victim, weak and burning, looking at her with a gaze mixed with hatred and anticipation.

Of course, after deciding to use it on Arthur, the mental image changed. Thinking of Altria, her dear sister's good child, kneeling before her like a little puppy, hafu hafu, licking her silk-stockinged legs, begging for her reward...

No, if she kept fantasizing, she would break herself.

After a "Oh ho ho ho" laugh, Morgan le Fay fell into self-loathing, feeling that her actions just now were utterly disgraceful.

But...

She had brought this on herself.

Though she was desperately enduring, the more she resisted, the stronger the desire grew.

Even though, as the creator of the poison, Morgan should have understood its properties and effects perfectly, she still unconsciously followed the preset path.

She had screwed herself over.

"Altria."

"Artorius."

"Artorius—Aaaaaah!"

Britannia's enchantress, her voice hoarse, called out her enemy's name. That cry gradually, little by little, twisted until it became a murmur. In the midst of her shouting, she collapsed, drained. Her body was exhausted, severely dehydrated, and she fell into a heavy sleep.

At the same time.

"Ah, ah..."

Little Mo paced in circles, her unease growing by the moment.

"Really..."

As one of Morgan's children, Little Mo's wariness and distrust toward Morgan was no less than any of her siblings'.

"Brother won't come out on the losing end, right?"

Just a moment ago, she'd been having dinner with her dear, beloved brother. After the candlelit dinner, he'd told her a story, and then hee-hee-hee.

Today had been another wonderful day for Mordred.

But that wonderful day had been shattered by Morgan's appearance.

Her dear brother had left with her.

Though Mordred had great confidence in Arthur, still, that was Morgan. The world's most terrifying, most wicked schemer, the most venomous woman.

And her brother Artorius?

He was so gentle, so innocent, so kind. How could he possibly be a match for someone like Morgan?

He'd meet with misfortune, wouldn't he? He'd be targeted, right? After all, Morgan's favorability toward King Arthur was so low, and as King Arthur's son, Morgan surely disliked him too, didn't she?

So what would she do to her brother?

Imprison him? Torture him? Beat him? Coerce him?

Just thinking about it made Mordred feel like she was about to explode.

She now bitterly hated her own helplessness.

Artorius and Morgan had been transported somewhere unknown through magical means.

Magic—she'd dabbled in it too. Brother Arthur had even taught her, but she was lazy and preferred swinging a blade to casting spells, so she'd only half-heartedly studied.

Her brother had scolded her for it. The result? Little Mo had learned to wheedle her way out of things without any instruction.

"Aaaah, if I'd known this would happen, I would've studied magic properly."

Then, at least, when she was frantic and wanted to charge off to kill someone, she'd know which direction to charge in. She could storm whatever castle Morgan was using to hide her lover away, raise hell, and rescue her dear brother—instead of being powerless like this, just pacing in circles.

This regret kept piling up, growing with every passing moment, until Mordred was nearly tearing at her hair and rolling on the floor...

Fortunately, before she could do something so embarrassing, Arthur returned.

"Brother—Aaaah—!"

Mordred threw herself into Artorius's arms at the fastest speed, looking him over from head to toe while reaching out to check his body: "What happened? Are you hurt? Are you hurt?!"

"Relax, I'm fine, Little Mo."

Looking at Mordred, who was patting him all over, Arthur reached out with affection and stroked her little head: "It was just Morgan. She can't hurt me."

Author's Notes:

First update today, keep the support coming.

Chapter 36: Little Mo: My Brother Is So Amazing

Facing his trusting, adoring, loving little sister, Arthur naturally had to put on a heroic front.

Even though he'd been caught off guard by Morgan earlier due to overconfidence and arrogance, when he recounted his encounter with her to Mordred, he glossed over that part.

He only told Little Mo that he was very strong, and that someone like Morgan was no match for him at all. Though she'd tried to use some trick to harm him, he'd ruthlessly foiled it. In the end, she could only collapse from severe dehydration, begging him for mercy.

Artorius, considering that she was his aunt and that keeping her alive was still useful, spared her. He warned her that if she ever dared to do evil again, he would punish her like today—no, with a punishment even more terrifying than today's.

Morgan, sobbing, promised Arthur she would never misbehave again. Only then did Arthur forgive her and return to reunite with Mordred.

"Oooh, so that's how it was! Brother is amazing!"

Truly Little Mo. Everything Arthur casually made up, she believed without question. Arthur found it very amusing.

When he'd first treated her this way, he'd felt a little embarrassed.

But fooling Little Mo was just too fun.

After all, his sister was so innocent and adorable, like a feline cub—a creature with fatal charm. He simply had to treat her well, caress her, and toy with her.

Just as Morgan le Fay hated, her daughter had completely become Artorius's possession.

"Alright..."

After teasing Mordred, Arthur's face showed signs of fatigue. After all, he'd just had a thorough bout of dual exercise with Morgan. Even the Dragon of Frost had to lower its head for a Period of Recuperation.

"Then let's sleep, get some good rest." Yawning, Arthur carried Mordred to the bedroom. There, Mordred skillfully lit incense—the rose essential oil obtained from Rome, blended by the finest mages to restore stamina and energy.

After massaging her dear brother, she too felt a little tired. Her desire to coax Artorius into being generous had also lessened somewhat. Once in a while, just simply holding her brother's arm and sleeping like this was enough.

Just watching him peacefully close his eyes, his sleeping face like an angel's, was sufficient.

"My brother." Mordred smiled softly, gently kissing Arthur's cheek. Today was another beautiful day.

Meanwhile.

"Still not found?"

In Camelot, within the office of the Tower of White Chalk.

Though it was already late at night, the King of Knights still had no trace of sleep.

Artoria, possessing the Dragon Factor and the Heart of the Red Dragon, far surpassed ordinary people in both physical and mental endurance. Yet at this moment, she still felt weary.

Still not found.

No matter how she searched, no matter how many sharp, capable, and powerful Knights of the Round Table she dispatched, the legendary wish-granting device that could change everything in the world remained unfound.

No matter how they crossed plains, climbed mountains, or sailed seas, the Holy Grail that could save Britannia was still nowhere to be seen.

Britannia's environment continued to deteriorate.

The temperature was dropping. The concentration of Ether was also dropping.

The people were starving. The Monsters were restless. The kings and lords of the surrounding kingdoms whispered among themselves. In this situation, all she could say to everyone was, "Hold on a little longer."

What was this, what was this even supposed to mean?!

"Artorius..."