Morgan's long sigh seemed to suck all air from the room, depriving her false front of its last remaining strength.
She slumped wearily into her chair, her deep blue eyes unfocused, staring straight into the void as if gazing back across 1,500 years.
The blue fireplace flames danced quietly, casting a faint glow on her pale face.
"You're right," she began softly, as if speaking from another time and space. "Your expression, 'it's as though three people lived simultaneously in one body'—that's exactly accurate."
"That's the most vivid, yet cruel, way to describe my past life."
"From the day Artoria drew the sword from the stone to the tragedy at Camlann Hill, I… was never alone, not once."
Artoria's body trembled violently, fists clenched so tightly atop her knees that her finger joints popped audibly.
She bit her lip hard, struggling to hear what was to come.
"There were three personalities living in my body at once."
Her tone became utterly flat, as though reciting an ancient story about someone else.
"Two old wills from Britain. One belonged to a fairy, the other belonged to myself—my human side, daughter of King Uther."
"The first personality—perhaps you know her better as 'Morgan.'"
At the mention of the name, a flash of madness and pain ignited in her eyes.
"She was, as you know… a cruel and heartless witch. She cared only for the land. She loved enigmatic, fantastical Britain above all else. She could not bear to witness the decline of the Age of Gods, nor to see human civilization transform her homeland into something unrecognizable."
"And thus, you who drew the holy sword, destined to lead Britain into the Age of Man—she regarded you as her greatest enemy."
"The core of her fairy nature was a relentless desire to rule her people and land. That's why she would stop at nothing to hinder you, betray you, and seize the country she loved most from your hands."
Hearing this, Artoria's breathing quickened.
Yes—this was exactly the Morgan in her memories:
The one who sowed rumors, stole the scabbard, painted Mordred as a rebellious son.
That hatred had always been real.
"And as for the second personality—'Vivian.' Perhaps you've also heard that name."
As Morgan spoke it, her voice softened, as if recalling something dear.
"She was the complete opposite of Morgan. Pure and gentle as a true fairy.
Her focus was always on the people who lived in this land."
"To her eyes, you, the ideal knight king, were the perfection made manifest.
She firmly believed that, under your rule, the people of England could attain happiness and peace.
She didn't care at all whether the Age of Gods lasted or ended. Her fairy nature was to bring happiness to the people living here.
Thus she did all she could to help you."
Seeing Artoria's confusion, Morgan gave a bitter smile.
"When your hope collapsed and the sword in the stone was broken, it was she who gave you the sword 'Excalibur' and the dreamlike paradise of Avalon."
"She blessed you as the Lady of the Lake, protected you from harm by mortal weapons, let you walk and run atop water as though it were flat land."
"She… raised my own children, Gawain, Gareth, and Lancelot—whom I took as a foster child shining like the light of the lake—into the finest of knights.
She sent them to the Round Table and made them your most loyal followers."
These words left Artoria utterly stunned. Her mind reeled.
Could it be that the Lady of the Lake who gave her the holy sword and the witch who destroyed her kingdom… were one and the same?
How was that possible?
How could such completely opposed actions stem from a single person?
"Then… what of you?"
Unable to bear it any longer, Artoria's voice trembled as she asked, "What did you do, Morgan?"
"Me?" Morgan laughed self-mockingly, the sound steeped in endless exhaustion and sorrow.
"As the human princess Morgan le Fay, I may have inherited some majesty worthy of a goddess of war. Maybe that's why there was always something of both within me.
But if there's one thing I valued above all…"
She raised her head, and for the first time in 1,500 years, met her younger sister's eyes with profound seriousness and sorrow.
"It was this: That you, my sister Artoria, could find your own happiness."
Her words, warm yet sharp as a blade, pierced the cold armor Artoria had built over half her life as king.
Her heart quaked violently in that instant.
"But the outcome of three personalities sharing one body was an unmitigated disaster," Morgan went on, her voice again low.
"In your memories, I must have seemed like someone with a split personality.
When Vivian was in control, I advised and supported you.
But when Morgan took over, I did everything in my power to ruin everything you had."
"As Morgan le Fay—I did my very best to mediate between these two personalities, but there was nothing I could do to change their strife.
To make matters worse, over time, it only got harder to control."
"Fairies are creatures bound to fulfill their duties in order to survive. Like the gentle fairy who spins wedding dresses for brides—if there is no bride in her kingdom, failing in her duty, she becomes a wayward, disastrous spirit."
"Morgan was no different. Your existence meant her 'mission' to rule Britain was forever blocked. Her anxiety grew, became more extreme, ultimately pushing her to the edge of madness."
"Her personality began to overwhelm Vivian and me, wresting almost all control over the body."
"In that era, Agravain and Mordred, later called to the Round Table and sowing so much trouble, were born under this unstable mind, different from Gawain and Gareth, who were born earlier.
And so began the catastrophic second act of what the world knows as the King Arthur Legends."
"From the Battle of Camlann onwards…"
Morgan closed her eyes as if unwilling to recall that hellish scene.
"Until I finally fell upon that blood-red hill, losing everything."
"And until the Age of Gods in Britain came to an end with you—the last dragon's—death…
Those two fae who haunted my dreams, Vivian and Morgan, vanished forever with the eras they so stubbornly clung to: land and people.
And my own dreams… ended."
When she opened her eyes again, two clear streams of tears gushed down Morgan's face—tears that had been building up for over 1,500 years and were filled with endless regret.
"...When I woke from that long nightmare and looked around in a daze, what did I see?"
Her voice began to tremble, overflowing with heartbreak.
"I saw my beloved children—Gawain, Gareth, Agravain—all died in the civil war my insanity had begun.
I saw my foster son, the radiant Lancelot, walk back to the lake of elves that had raised him from childhood, and in endless regret and self-blame, drown himself.
And I saw you, my sister, my only sister—"
At this, she choked up and could say no more.
Watching Artoria's shocked, tear-filled face, she forced herself to go on:
"You never had a single day's freedom or right to choose as an ordinary girl ought. Not even one day.
Yet, until the very last moment of your life, you refused to leave, stubbornly remaining on Camlann Hill, contracting with the cold Counter Force, and throwing yourself into another endless battle across time and space…"
"At that moment—regret… completely overwhelmed me."
So I did it. I made my decision.
Wiping her tears away, Morgan's eyes lit up once again with a mad light—a mixture of attachment and maternal passion.
"I inherited the name of the Black Madonna, and left behind a millennia-long magical ritual in Blackmore Cemetery, built by my descendants, to guard your grave."
"I turned the last of my magic into a sealing treasure, and entrusted it to the guardian of your tomb."
"One day, should the so-called Holy Grail Wars—the time-crossing ritual you once experienced—begin anew in this era, I wish for them to use that ritual, with the help of my descendant, to… revive you."
She reached out as if to touch her sister's cheek, but—lacking the courage—she stopped halfway.
"I want to give you an entirely new life… one without a throne, responsibility, or battles, but truly belonging to a peaceful age."
"So you can experience the tiny joys, the little happinesses of an ordinary girl's life that you never knew.
And so that I can atone for my sins, if atonement is possible…"
"...That's everything there is to me, Artoria."