Chapter 34: The Pendragon Clan -2-
Deep regret rippled through Morgan's blue eyes.
"In the end, I was never acknowledged by Father. No matter how I tried to prove my talent for Magecraft and my qualities as a ruler, he never saw me as his heir. And yet... you inherited everything of Pendragon and were recognized as king."
At her grievance-laced confession, I gave a bitter smile.
"Well, even I can see that's unfair. But what's your point?"
"I hate you for resembling Father, and yet I cannot bring myself to hate you completely. And after seeing the followers you keep at your side, I realized it would be foolish to waste strength making an enemy of you."
Morgan lightly placed a hand on my chest and whispered seductively.
"In the end, in accordance with Britain's tradition, I have decided to accept that you, a man, will ascend the throne. However, the king after you will be the child born from you and me. What do you think? Since it would be your bloodline as well, is this not the most perfect way to place this Britain wholly under the rule of Pendragon?"
At that blatant lust for power—wanting to place her own child on the next throne and rule as regent or the true power behind the scenes—I let out a snort of laughter.
"Sister. It's a pretty rational plan, but you've overlooked one thing. I received Caliburn's blessing too, so my aging has stopped and I can live forever. Just like how you don't age because you're a fairy. What are you going to do if I sit on the throne for the rest of my life?"
At my provocative question, Morgan did not look flustered in the slightest. Her fairy eyes gleamed as she stared straight at me.
"Do not lie, Arthur. My fairy eyes see everything clearly. You certainly intend to become Britain's king... but you have no intention whatsoever of remaining forever as the king of this cursed land, do you?"
"...Exactly. Seriously, those eyes are cheating."
I frankly revealed my objective.
"That's right. My goal is to kill Vortigern, unify Britain and Pictland, and stabilize this land. After that... I plan to lead the people who follow me, and the people of this land, and leave Britain completely behind."
Morgan's eyes widened slightly.
"This land is fated to perish anyway as the Mana of the Age of Gods runs dry. From the moment something like Vortigern was born—a destruction mechanism for the island of Britain itself—forcing it to linger on with artificial life support will only make everyone living here suffer."
At my calm declaration, Morgan quietly nodded as well.
"That is the correct conclusion. I too have no intention of preventing the destruction of the island of Britain itself. In the end, the Age of Man must come. Even if one were to stop it, there would be no hope in that."
She gripped the railing tightly, revealing a chilling obsession.
"But... even if I must perish together with a dying Britain, I will without fail reign as the true king of this land. That is the one desire I have clung to all my life."
While Morgan was obsessed with possession of the land called Britain itself and the power that came with it, I cared about the people living upon it.
If possible, I wouldn't want to give up the land either, but in this case there was no way around it except for all of us to end up at Camlann together.
In the end, Morgan's goal, unlike Morgan of Fairy Britain, was focused not on the people but on Britain itself.
"So I'm thinking of crossing over to Gaul."
I added that last part.
"Across the sea, in Gaul, there's already Brittany, pioneered by Britons. And King Hoel, who rules there, is of a collateral Pendragon bloodline—in other words, my cousin. After I unify Britain, I'll head there and found a new Pendragon kingdom."
Hearing my plan, a deep smile spread across Morgan's lips.
"Then our interests align even more perfectly, do they not? You may take the people and leave, and I shall claim the throne of Britain you leave behind."
"Well, if the condition is that we divide the land and the people, then sure, it's nice that we can get along..."
Scratching the back of my head, I asked,
"Why are you so fixated on my seed, specifically? If you'd borne Gawain or other nephews, couldn't you have produced excellent children without it having to be me?"
At my question, Morgan snorted as if I were hopelessly dense.
"You still do not understand the value of your bloodline. Uther alone was already a special human, one born with the mystery of the island of Britain in every inch of his body. And I too am a special being."
She reached out and toyed with the ends of my radiant golden hair.
"Arthur, that dazzling golden hair of yours and Artoria's is absolute proof that you are the true Pendragon, acknowledged by Britain's mystery itself. Vortigern and I were cast out from Pendragon legitimacy, and so we lost that rich golden color and our hues grew dull."
She narrowed her eyes as though recalling the glory of the past.
"The reason my son Gawain is called the Holy Knight of the Sun and displays such exceptionally powerful strength is simply because he was born carrying even a little of Pendragon's blood through my womb. His pale golden hair is proof of that. But Gawain is not the true direct heir of Pendragon, so his limits are obvious."
Morgan leaned close to my ear again and whispered in secretive tones.
"That is why I need the genuine article, one born carrying nothing but the true Pendragon bloodline. I am offering to bear in my womb the finest masterpiece, mixed from your blood and mine, the most perfect blood of Britain. Why hesitate?"
As for the ethical issue of incest, by the time I was already in a relationship with Artoria, I'd more or less stopped being shocked by that. But the part that truly troubled me was something else.
"Sister, it's a bold proposal, but... I absolutely hate loveless, purely political relationships. I'm not some bastard who goes around spraying seed wherever he can't take responsibility for it."
I was just about to take a step back and refuse her politely.
"Exactly! Don't make my brother uncomfortable for such impure reasons!"
Taat!
Who knew where she'd been hiding, but Artoria came springing out from the shadows in the corner of the terrace, fuming.
She clung tightly to my arm and shot Morgan a sharp glare.
"I don't want to hate you, Sister, but my brother absolutely hates sticky relationships without love! And besides, I'm his first lover, so wake up and give up!"
At my little sister's brazen provocation, the veins stood out on Morgan's forehead.
"Ha! What rootless little bitch dares interrupt me? I have never acknowledged you even once!"
Morgan was jealous to the marrow of Artoria—the dazzling golden hair she herself had lost forever when she was cast out, the girl who uncannily resembled her former self and yet had received Uther's acknowledgment.
Morgan refused to yield. She tightly seized my other arm and pressed her breasts against me.
"Move aside, you fake girl. You're nothing but a half-formed thing who can only swing a sword, but I, Morgan, am Britain's greatest witch and the finest womb capable of bearing superior children. Arthur needs a woman like me!"
"Don't be ridiculous! I'm the twin sister and lover who has been with my brother since the day we were born! And now you show up pretending to be his real older sister and try to steal my brother's seed? You're nothing but a thieving alley cat!"
Artoria and Morgan.
The two sisters, identical in appearance but opposite in personality, each grabbed one of my arms and started yanking while launching into a vicious catfight.
"Let go of this, fake!"
"Why don't you go back to that old king!"
Killing intent and sparks of Magical Energy flew in every direction. Caught between my twin little sister and my half-sister, unable to move an inch, I let out a deep sigh.
Ah, seriously, this is draining the life out of me. What the hell am I supposed to do here?
That was when it happened.
"Hehehe~ Don't fight, you adorable sisters!"
Beyond the terrace railing, pink flower petals scattered through the air as a white-haired woman came floating up.
It was Merlin.
"Why do siblings need to fight so bloodily like that? Why not just spend a hot night together, the three of you, and make up? Oh, right, and while you're at it, if you let me slip in there too for a moment—guhk?!"
Merlin's slick nonsense had not even finished.
""Stay out of this, you trash incubus!!""
Morgan and Artoria, who had been glaring at each other like they wanted to kill one another just moments ago, threw punches at the same time.
Kwachik!!
The sisters' heavy, Mana-laden fists slammed into Merlin's face at the same instant.
"Gyaaaaaaah!"
Spraying blood from her nose, Merlin let out a scream and fell in a beautiful arc down into the deep fog of the Kingdom of Gore.
Staring blankly at Merlin's trajectory as she vanished into the air, I let out a helpless laugh.
"Haa... You say you hate each other to death, but you're disgustingly perfect together. Blood really will tell."
High atop a tower in the fog-shrouded Kingdom of Gore, the chaotic romantic farce being waged by Britain's strongest sisters showed no sign of ending.
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