"To think I let emotion sway me…"
Waking to find the naked Morgan beside her, Artoria felt her head throb. Last night had been… wonderful—no, ordinary—but she had actually lost control. Looking down at her own bare body, she marveled that after suppressing her draconic nature for so long, a woman she'd known barely two days had managed to stir it.
"My virtue in old age—ugh, I'm not that old!"
Sitting up, uncaring that her pale upper body was exposed, Artoria pulled a pack of women's cigarettes from the nightstand. She hadn't smoked in ages, but a headache like this demanded a post-encounter cigarette to calm down.
"Artoria… Artoria! Love you most."
Morgan murmured in her sleep, proof of how deep her love for King Arthur—Artoria—ran; even in dreams she spoke those words.
Her sleep-talk made Artoria hesitate mid-light, then sigh and put the cigarette away. She drew the quilt over Morgan's bare shoulder, slipped naked from the bed without waking her, gathered the clothes and underwear strewn across the floor from last night's frenzy, and quietly left the bedroom. No man lived here; no male creature would witness such beauty.
"How am I supposed to repay a debt like this? King Arthur, I'm taking the fall for you!"
Dressed now, Artoria sat in the living-room sighing. She had no grounds left to drive the woman away; their relationship was a tangled mess. Honestly, she'd rather fight Thanos to the death than get entangled in emotional problems.
"Saturday, have you picked up any signal from Tony?"
"None, master.
With headphones on, Artoria left without breakfast for the first time, leaving the maids stunned. What were they to do with all that food? They could never finish it themselves. But what worried them most was that their young lady had skipped breakfast for the first time ever—was the world about to end, or had the young lady finally turned over a new leaf?
"Miss Artoria, you don't look well. Are you feeling unwell?"
While gathering the materials, Gwen noticed Artoria sitting motionless at the head of the table. Concerned, she asked, It was the first time she'd seen Artoria look so grave. Could it be the news that Tony Stark had been attacked and gone missing? That had to be it; the loss of a loved one would explain Artoria's low spirits. Poor Miss Artoria—Gwen couldn't help wanting to comfort her.
"I'm fine, really. Don't worry."
Gwen's words snapped Artoria out of her daze. She glanced at the worried Gwen; her family's sordid mess had to stay hidden—too humiliating. Was she supposed to say, 'I accidentally spent a wild night with a woman whose relationships are a total mess, and now I'm freaking out about it'? Who could ever admit that? Her much-vaunted self-discipline had just slapped her in the face.
"How about we go out for a bit to clear your head?"
Though Artoria had spoken, Gwen still wanted to take her out, hoping to keep her from brooding over her brother. For Miss Artoria's sake, she decided not to notify that pack of troublesome people; she'd take Artoria out alone.
"Forget it. I just need some quiet, Gwen."
"All right, Miss Artoria."
Accepting the answer, Gwen could only retreat in disappointment. She tidied up and left the office, leaving Artoria alone, which suited her perfectly.
Two problems loomed, each worse than the last: first, Tony's disappearance; second, Morgan still at home—that woman was the biggest headache. How to settle her, plus the Ten Rings issue, left Artoria without a clue.
"One thing at a time, then."
With everything piling up at once, Artoria saw no way to solve it all together. She'd have to wait until each crisis hit before improvising—nothing but trouble.
"Sis, are you trying to get me killed?"
"You've gained such incredible powers—how could you possibly die?"
"No… that's not what I meant. You know where we are, right?"
"Of course I do, idiot."
Brian stared helplessly at his sister. He didn't know how she'd learned about his new powers or his plan to become a hero. He'd expected opposition, yet she supported him and was even making him a costume—touching. Had moving changed her into such a caring sister? Great—maybe she'd marry soon and stop bullying him. But what was up with this outfit?
"Got a problem with the costume I made?"
"No, dear sis, but this is the United States! You want me running around in a suit plastered with the Union Jack? That screams, 'Hey, Americans, here's a Brit sticking his nose in your business!'"
Brian's face was a kaleidoscope of frustration; he couldn't sway his sister once she'd set her iron will. No one could.
"If you're going to be a hero, stop caring what people think. Look at Spider-Woman—he swings around in tights without giving a damn. You chose this path, so own it. Besides, we're British."
Clutching the skin-tight suit his sister had tossed him, Brian felt utterly wronged. He'd hoped to talk her around, only to end up being lectured into silence. And he still had to honor the promise to that old man—deliver that item to the so-called king.
Where on Earth was this king? Nobody knew—such a pain.
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