63 51. Battle of two fronts Part 2
The birth was what defined a person's standing. However, time and time again she felt as if her birth had been her greatest curse.
Little by little she was isolated. The pleasant tea parties no longer filled the void. The casual barbs about her sister in those parties always irked her mind. Those fleeting words said by her aides chilled her to bones. Spreading poison coursing through her body. Unsaid it was for it never brewed but deception too was her cause.
The voice forever remains silent. For she was nothing but a second replacement. No value of her own.
She hated herself with her whole existence. A mage of her caliber could easily escape merlin's eyes and kill her sister to take the throne.
But she couldn't. Her hands refused to do so. That's why she employed others to do it. Still, at the most crucial of moments, she failed. Though she should feel anger, she rather felt disgusted for being relieved that she was alive.
After all, it wasn't Arturia's fault that she became a king. If fault on someone it would be merlin, trying to portray Arturia as a true king creating more and more division between them.
A time, long forgotten:
'Morgana, you know your duty is to guard your little sister even if it ends at your death. The wizard predicts Arthur to be the next king and bring Britain to an age of glory.' those words which held not even a sliver of kindness was thrown recklessly on her twelve-year-old self.
A burden that she herself could never hold. From that time, she filled her sister's life with happiness giving her everything she wanted. Cherishing her with love.
Their days went by with harmony
until...
"Arthur's growth will forever be halted in the bounds of riches. To gain fame among his peers and cherish the hopes and dreams of commoners she too would need to walk in such path" Eavesdropping on her father's chamber she heard the wizard clamor about her sister's future.
"...What do you propose should be done to that doll?" Harsh words but her father was never known to be kind. Even the marriage with Igraine was to magically insert a dragon's essence inside of her birthing Arthur's and ending her life...just for the sake of glory?
Her small and innocent mind could never accept it. However, she too had not the courage to ask him directly
"The knight under you Sir Ector was he called?"
"Yes, what about him"
now the tone of the wizards turned mischievous
"Send her to him and let Sir Ector raise her"
Those words rang in her ears were hard to register.
"Do as you wish" and just like that, her father without a second thought let her go. Various Emotions raged her heart but one thing was certain they would eventually have to part.
She again went back to the garden blooming with precious flowers glowing akin to gemstones in the breeze of spring. There she was, glowing undertaking the wonderful visage of nature into her entire existence. Arturia was vibrant but a brazen allure of bravery and a steadfast aura clung even at this age.
She was charming in each and every regard. If perfection had an example she truly had now achieved it. No matter how much she tried to keep Arthur at her side it would be nothing but a shackle for her future.
And so with a deep heart, she decided to let go. With a smile, she approached once, the closer she got the more she felt her aura of innocence. A soft giggle left her sister's mouth and upon seeing Morgana jumped to hug her.
"Big sis, ywu wre late" She smiled and let the scenario continue once more.
A charming family ruling over Britain just like a facade of a thousand lies she too embraced one and held her sister one last time. For one last moment, she wasn't Morgana pendragon or the beautiful girl adored by others. She was just a sister.
Time passed and like the fading sands, Arthur too disappeared...
Time passed, soon she was but a hollowed shell bred to a lady then one-day Vortigern attacked the capital and Uther pendragon was on his knees. She felt not a hint of remorse seeing him in a devastating state, a smile adorned her face remaining apathetic to her father's state.
The castle was torn apart as if a raging wind had bellowed through. Bodies of hundreds of knights adorned a visceral image to the throne.
She smiled viciously at her father.
"It seems I remain disappointed even to the end"
"...Morgana you truly have...turned evil."
'Evil?' was she like that now? Or did her expression show such?
"...still as a member of house pendragon, I ask that you hate your sister...no abhor her till the end" She was boiling with rage seeing him insinuate these words.
"...A prophecy has been told. The white can...only be tamed by the red and for that...she needs...needs to grow. Britain will go through turbulent times. Your love would very well, in the end, be her demise" those words were the ones, which finally broke the rest of her mind.
In other words, 'Sacrifice yourself for your sister'
...
..
.
Time went forth not standing for her to follow. She became loved by all using it as an excuse she Morgana made sure to make Arthur's life a living hell. Conspiring behind her back, turning her people against her.
The irony was that the wizard did nothing to stop her. The sham of a wizard played along. The knights too found about her birth, her reason to exist.
Still, as long as she remains devoted even if she was a slave they would treat her with indifference. A rational but emotionless one. Placing their dreams and desires onto her forcing her to cater to their whims.
But then something changed.
Rumors about her madness soon heralded the streets. People barking about a mad king and a treacherous god.
Soon these rumors turned even more convoluting placing Arthur as a descendent of god. The world reversed for her, right and wrong, misplaced.
Truth and falsities hid behind a web of shadows and before she knew it. Everything she worked for years, started to unravel.
Gone was the wizard, gone was her pawn, gone was the knights
Just because of one single error
'Ainz Oowl Gown' though she expressed bitterness about him. Inside she was pleased that her sister finally had someone truly loyal to her.
One single move made by that man changed everything.
The prophecy too began shifting bringing fear to that accursed wizard. A time quite different than he knew unfolded before his eyes. Throwing him to the brink of madness.
Foolish of him to always depend on his clairvoyance.
Foolish of him to force the future by himself.
In the end, this might just be his redemption...in the end, this may be his true end.
However, the extremities of the world now at least forced the dormant mages to start their coalition.
The meeting too kick-started to safeguard their existence in these turbulent times and for that, she was here. The owner of this mansion sent her an invite.
The Barthomeloi House, an ancient family safeguarding the right of other mages. The faction because of their individual strength garnered a quite bit of a following currently hosts the meeting in the center of Britain.
Walking in large strides she quickened her pace. If it was any different she would have made her claim to the throne and led Britain after her sister's death but Britain itself was now in a state of perpetual destruction. Without the support from that god of death, it was impossible for her to repel the invasions.
Still, she couldn't expect that god to help her. If he was any bit close to Artoria he knew their toxic relation and so this meeting became her first priority.
No matter how disheveled her mind remains, the pride of the fabled pendragon family will never leave. A curse she was born with and a curse she would end with.
In a final stretch to garner support from this illustrious faction, she would today make her gamble.
The moment she passed the doorsteps a barrier stood to stop her. On her left corner, she saw some guards eying her suspiciously.
"Halt" Morgan knew the process and silently passed them the letter.
"...Lady Morgana, you may enter" without caring for the disrespect from their informal tone she entered the meeting place.
...
In a dark and insidious forest stood a beautiful house portraying a lineage lost in time. It's walls being unfurnished displayed antiquity common to those of a ghost manor. The gates too creaked with a large shrill showing how unmaintained this place was.
But for some reason, the door stood in contrast being clean from the rest of the estate in personating a dynamic color in its frame which instantly ringed alarm bells on her head.
"...Is this the place" Arturia softly voiced her query.
Ainz silently nodded to her. The atmosphere here was solemn if for not Ainz was still carrying her on this place. Artoria felt shame crept on her face and hid behind his shirt.
