"Is it… over?"
Mordred stared blankly at the now serene, deep, and clear lake.
"So, we're safe?" Bavanzi asked dumbly from the side.
They exchanged the question, but neither had an answer. Instead, both turned their eyes toward Guinevere.
But Guinevere didn't respond. He was murmuring to himself, clearly deep in thought, muttering words like "illusion," "phantasm," and "truth"—rambling like some crackpot fortune-teller.
"Guinevere?" Bavanzi called out with a bit of unease, gently tugging at his sleeve and softly calling his name.
"Hmm?" The light tug brought Guinevere back to his senses. He blinked for a moment, then snapped out of his trance. "Ah, sorry—I got lost in thought."
"What do we do now?" Mordred asked casually, then glanced at Bavanzi beside her. "By the way… you're really my mother's daughter?"
"Mother?" Bavanzi blinked, then realized she meant Morgan. At the mention of her name, all trace of fear vanished from her face. She immediately puffed out her surprisingly proud chest.
"Of course! I am Queen Morgan's daughter and her sole rightful heir!"
"Huh? Queen Morgan?" Mordred blinked again, then turned to Guinevere in confusion. "I don't recall hearing anything about my mother ever being a queen…"
She paused for a moment, recalling that mother of hers who nearly lost her mind in pursuit of the throne. She muttered under her breath,
"Honestly, could she really make a decent queen?"
"What kind of nonsense is that?!" Bavanzi exploded before Guinevere could say a word.
"Mother is the one true queen of Fairy Britain! Under her rule, the entire realm of fae has been maintained in perfect order. How could you even doubt her ability to be queen?! You're her daughter too! What's wrong with you?!"
"Uh…"
Recalling the headaches from managing countless cities, and the many, many issues stacked up across her territory—not to mention the fact that, aside from loyal Woodworth and Bavanzi, she didn't have a single faithful subordinate in Fairy Britain—Guinevere opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Let's just go with: yes, Morgan really was a competent queen.
"I told you before," he added, "Bavanzi is also Morgan's daughter, but from a different world. In that world, Morgan really is the Queen of Britain."
As for how she managed that country as a queen… well, considering how Fairy Britain is full of unruly citizens, maybe it wasn't entirely her fault. If Bavanzi wanted to brag, then so be it.
"But anyway," Bavanzi chirped, "since we're both daughters of Morgan, that makes you my little sister!"
Now that the danger had passed, Bavanzi was in high spirits.
"Come now, dear little sister—call me big sis!"
At this, Guinevere felt his heart tighten.
Both Bavanzi and Mordred were proud and headstrong. Sure, they might help each other when needed, but there was no way either of them would willingly play the "younger sister" role. If this turned into a fight over seniority, they could argue for hours.
And if they dragged him into it to play judge?
No matter who he sided with, it'd be a death sentence.
But to his surprise, Mordred blinked, looked at Guinevere, and asked:
"So she's older than me?"
Unlike her future self, who would've immediately thrown a fit over sibling hierarchy, this version of Mordred was still at the emotional age of three or four—having just become a Knight of the Round Table. Accepting Bavanzi as an older sister wasn't difficult at all.
Guinevere felt like a massive weight had been lifted off his chest.
"Purely in terms of years lived, yeah, she's older," he explained.
Now technically, if we're talking about birth, Mordred definitely came earlier than this version of Bavanzi. But if you include Bavanzi's original version? That argument could go on forever. Guinevere wasn't about to open that can of worms.
He just wanted to defuse the situation quickly.
And really, it wasn't even a lie. He'd even added qualifiers like "purely in terms of age" and "currently." If Mordred misunderstood, that was her own fault, right?
"Bavanzi's a fae—one of the long-lived races. She may look like this, but she's already over a hundred years old."
He added this casually.
Now, if it were a certain queen being told her age like that, she might've gone ballistic. But Bavanzi didn't mind at all. She cheerfully puffed her chest again:
"That's right, I'm over a hundred! Calling me big sis is perfectly natural!"
"I see…" Mordred nodded thoughtfully. "So… you really are my big sister?"
"Mhm!"
Having someone call her "big sister" made Bavanzi feel like she was floating. She immediately grabbed Mordred's hand and beamed,
"Little sister!"
In the past, had Bavanzi learned that Morgan had another child, she might've gone into a jealous rage, screaming and plotting murder for fear of losing her mother's affection.
But now, she had personally heard Morgan say: "You are my greatest treasure."
With that, all her insecurities had vanished.
Besides, Mordred was from another world and couldn't possibly threaten her share of motherly love.
And so, as the self-declared eldest, she resolved to care for her new sibling.
...Only, how does one "take care" of someone?
That thought gave Bavanzi pause. She was, after all, a pampered fairy princess—used to being served, not serving others.
After some thought, she decided: maybe she could help by beating up anyone who gave her sister trouble.
She tightened her grip on Mordred's hand.
"If anyone bullies you, just let me know. I'll make sure they regret it!"
"Uh…"
Caught off guard, Mordred looked flustered.
That warm touch and the pure affection in Bavanzi's gaze… they were just too unfamiliar. She didn't know how to respond.
In Pan-Human History, Morgan had many children—half the Round Table, even. Mordred, technically, wasn't lacking in siblings.
But because her identity could never be revealed, and she always hid behind the helmet Morgan had given her, none of them knew who she really was.
Not that it mattered—she was King Arthur's child, the true heir. As long as she held on to that belief, she could endure any hardship.
It didn't matter if her mother didn't love her.
It didn't matter if her siblings didn't know her.
It didn't matter if she had no friends.
If she couldn't endure that pain, she wasn't worthy of being King Arthur's child.
So, when she saw her brothers Gawain and Gaheris doting on their sister Gareth…
When she saw Agravain cold and stoic, yet secretly sending medicine when others were hurt…
When she saw them fighting, laughing, standing together through thick and thin…
She definitely wasn't jealous.
…Okay, maybe just a little. A tiny bit.
She'd never dreamed she'd live to see this day—where a sister would take her hand and call her "little sister." Not even in her dreams had she dared hope.
And even if someday she told Father the truth, and he accepted her, and made it public—
Her siblings probably still wouldn't accept her.
She didn't exactly have the best social standing at the Round Table.
Only Agravain could maybe relate.
But now, here it was—this day, this moment.
So sudden.
So completely unprepared for.
She was stunned, unable to respond.
But inside her, one thought kept echoing:
"I have a sister. I have family."
Looking at Bavanzi's not-so-bright-looking but genuinely joyful face, Mordred couldn't help but smile.
She tried to suppress it, but she couldn't quite manage.
"Mhm!"
That said, she didn't take Bavanzi's promise to protect her seriously.
After all, now that Bavanzi's core had been removed, she was far weaker than before. Mordred could tell at a glance—this sister of hers couldn't match her in strength.
But that was fine. They still had Guinevere and… "Jackie."
"Actually," Mordred said, "I don't really have any enemies I particularly hate. Most of them, I've already taken care of.
"But don't let my looks fool you. I'm super strong! I'm a Knight of the Round Table, you know!" she declared proudly.
"So if you have anyone you want taken care of, just say the word—I'll help you out."
"Well, now that you mention it…"
Bavanzi thought for a moment.
"There is someone: that Child of Prophecy. I've hated her for a while now. I just haven't had the chance to… I mean, since we're technically on the same side now, it's awkward to start a fight.
"But if the opportunity arises, I'd definitely need your help."
"Of course!" Mordred pounded her chest plate with a loud clang clang.
"Child of Prophecy, huh? Don't worry—next time I see them, I'll beat them black and blue for you, sis!"
"..."
Listening to this exchange, Guinevere fell silent again.
Sure, his feelings were complicated—but honestly, the hardest part was trying not to laugh.
After thinking it over, he decided now was not the time to tell Mordred who the Child of Prophecy was.
That would only complicate things.
And it was definitely not because he wanted to watch the chaos unfold later.
Definitely not.
Girl fights? Not his problem.
He couldn't stop them anyway, and stepping in would just get him roped in as judge.
As long as the fire didn't burn him, he'd just enjoy the show.
"By the way, Guinevere," Bavanzi turned back to him, still glowing with sisterly joy. "Where do we go next?"
"Uh, well…"
Guinevere was still thinking when—
"Guinevere? What do you mean 'Guinevere'? Isn't his name Jackie?"
Mordred blinked in confusion.
Then, after a moment of realization, she shot Guinevere a death glare.
"So you've been lying to me this whole time with a fake name?!"