Location: The Imperial Palace, Romulus City, Capital of the Ragnarok Empire
"I will make you mine."
Merlin frowned and reread the chapter before shutting the app with an exaggerated sigh.
"…What the heck did I just read?" She sank deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. "The villainess locks up the male lead in the basement so he'll forget about his true love—the protagonist, who conveniently has amnesia? What was the author smoking?"
Across from her, Morgan let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Merlin, it's a fictional story," she said, rubbing her temples. "I'm sure the author had their reasons."
Merlin turned, crossing her arms, her crimson eyes narrowing at the Grand Warlock lounging opposite her. "Besides, what are you even doing in my room?"
"Well, I got bored of reading light novels in my room." Merlin stretched lazily before flashing a smirk. "And I can't exactly crash into Arthur's room without him putting Excalibur to my throat."
She mockingly hovered a hand over her neck. "Not the best experience, I tell you."
Morgan grimaced. "I don't even want to know what you did to make Father react that way."
"The last time he did that was when I suggested killing Mordred at birth," Merlin said offhandedly.
Morgan stared at her in horror. "Merlin! What is wrong with you?"
Merlin shrugged. "A lot of things, I'm afraid. Living this long takes its toll."
Morgan exhaled sharply and conjured a small shard of ice, pressing it to her forehead to soothe the headache forming.
"You're unbelievable. No wonder Mordred didn't like you."
Merlin smirked. "Not as much as he loathed you."
She expected a retort, but Morgan just sighed.
"You're right. He loathed me." She leaned forward, wringing her hands. "That was one of the last things he ever said to me before he left."
Her crimson eyes darkened. "I failed as a sister, Merlin. I failed him."
Merlin remained silent, watching as Morgan's carefully constructed mask cracked.
"I was never there for him. I barely acknowledged his existence. I probably never would have if I hadn't met him that day." She swallowed, eyes distant.
"That day, he was different. His words shook me—shook the very principles I built my life around."
Morgan shut her eyes, her voice almost a whisper.
"When he told me he loathed me, his eyes were filled with a cold hatred I never imagined I'd see from a child." Her hands curled into fists. "His gaze and his words haunt me to this day."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Merlin, uncharacteristically quiet, spoke.
"You had three years."
Morgan's head snapped up.
"You had three years to fix everything. To go to the Shield, to try and mend things with him." Merlin's eyes gleamed. "But you didn't."
Morgan's breath hitched. "Father didn't allow us to visit him—"
"And did that stop your mother? Did that stop Gawain?" Merlin's voice cut through her excuse like a blade.
Morgan had no reply.
"The reason you didn't visit him wasn't because of Arthur," Merlin continued. "It was because you were afraid. Afraid to see that look of hatred in his eyes again."
Morgan clenched her jaw, but Merlin wasn't finished.
"You also realized something else, didn't you? That no matter what you did, it wouldn't change anything." Merlin leaned in slightly. "You believe you're beyond redemption."
Morgan lowered her head, suddenly exhausted despite being well-rested. She let out a bitter chuckle.
"You see through me too well, Merlin." She met the Grand Warlock's gaze with tired amusement. "Nothing escapes those cursed eyes of yours."
Merlin smirked. "Anyone with good intuition could figure you out."
Morgan's lips twitched, but her next words were sharper.
"Then aren't you just as guilty as I am?"
Merlin raised an eyebrow.
Morgan leaned in this time, her voice cool.
"Wasn't it because of your visions that Mordred was confined to the Dawn Palace? That he lived his life unloved and unwanted?"
For the first time, Merlin stilled.
Then, to Morgan's surprise, she chuckled.
"Of course I'm guilty, Morgan." She rested her chin on her palm, eyes dimming. "I'm guilty of many things."
Something unreadable flickered across her face.
"My very existence is the greatest violation of this world." Her voice carried no jest—only self-loathing.
Morgan stared at her before sighing.
"Father was right," she muttered. "You truly hate yourself."
Merlin cracked a grin. "Why do you think I keep plucking my eyeballs out?"
Morgan let out a breathy laugh. "We really are irredeemable pricks, huh?"
Merlin tilted her head. "I am, but you're not."
Morgan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You're trying to befriend Iris Lefay, aren't you?" Merlin's smirk returned.
Morgan blinked before letting out a dry chuckle. "Nothing escapes you, you crafty warlock."
Merlin just hummed in amusement.
Morgan exhaled. "Yes, I want to befriend Iris Lefay." Her voice softened. "She's the one he loved more than anyone in this world." A wistful smile crossed her lips. "Maybe, through her, I'll understand him better."
Merlin's expression darkened slightly.
"Morgan… that child has no memories of her time with Mordred."
"I know," Morgan murmured. "It's just a foolish hope. But… there's no harm in making friends, right?"
Merlin's sharp gaze softened, and for once, she smiled sincerely.
"You're right."
A knock on the door broke the moment.
"Your Highness. May I come in?"
Morgan straightened, her voice returning to its usual authority.
"You may enter."
The sleek double doors of the guest room opened soundlessly, revealing a servant who bowed respectfully.
"Lady Merlin, it's time to prepare for the banquet."
"Already? You guys are freakishly efficient," Merlin remarked, stretching as she stood.
She turned to Morgan, giving a lazy wave.
"See you at dinner."
Morgan watched her go, a contemplative look in her eyes.
*******
"You look quite dashing."
Merlin's voice carried a teasing lilt as she approached Arthur on their way to the dining hall. She let out a low whistle, her multicolored eyes gleaming with amusement as she openly appraised his attire.
The High King was clad in a resplendent white suit, its fabric embroidered with intricate black and gold designs that wove patterns of regal sophistication.
A sleek black turtleneck contrasted sharply beneath, emphasizing the crisp tailoring of his ensemble. His polished black leather shoes bore golden embellishments, catching the ambient light with each step.
Draped over his shoulders was a long, elegant gray overcoat, its fine fabric shifting subtly with his movements, adding an effortless air of authority.
His eyes narrowed as Merlin drew closer.
"I am relieved to see that you finally had the sense to work on your appearance," he said, his cold voice pricking at her like tiny needles of ice.
Merlin smirked, unfazed. "Well, even I know when I should look good."
She adjusted the cuffs of her tailored ensemble—a striking fusion of a suit and gown. A fitted black vest hugged her petite frame, fastened with silver buttons over a high-collared white shirt.
Flowing coattails, split at the back like a dress, cascaded down to her calves, their dark fabric subtly shimmering as she moved.
Slim black trousers and polished ankle boots completed the look, adding a touch of effortless charm to her natural elegance.
"What do you think?" she asked, twirling playfully.
Arthur merely scoffed. "Not bad. It seems you do have some taste in fashion."
He glanced at his watch, the exposed mechanisms behind the transparent casing reflecting faintly in his eyes.
"It's almost time. Morgan should be here by now."
As if summoned by his words, a familiar voice drifted toward them.
"I am here, Father. Hopefully, I am not late."
Morgan strode toward them with the measured grace of royalty, her presence commanding without effort.
Her attire reflected that same poise and precision—a black long coat adorned with delicate silver embroidery tracing intricate patterns along the high collar and cuffs.
The coat cinched at the waist, emphasizing her athletic frame before flaring subtly at the hem, its deep crimson lining offering a striking contrast with each step.
Beneath the coat, she wore a midnight-blue silk blouse, its delicate shimmer catching the soft glow of the hallway.
Fitted black trousers flared slightly at the ankles, seamlessly meeting stiletto boots adorned with subtle gold and crimson accents.
Black snowflake-shaped earrings dangled from her ears, a quiet yet striking detail. A touch of dark eyeshadow sharpened the edges of her crimson eyes, making them all the more piercing.
Merlin found herself momentarily staring. The cold beauty of the Crown Princess was unmistakable—a perfect blend of Arthur's sharpness and Guinevere's grace.
"Goodness, Morgan. How are you still single?"
Merlin's teasing voice broke the silence as she appraised the Crown Princess with exaggerated admiration.
A faint flush bloomed on Morgan's cheeks—whether from embarrassment or the subtle rouge in her makeup, Merlin couldn't tell.
Still, it was a rare sight. Seeing the ever-composed Morgan Pendragon flustered was something she never thought she'd witness.
"I'm not single!" Morgan retorted, a little too quickly.
Silence settled over the hallway. Arthur arched a brow, his sharp gaze assessing his daughter.
"That is news," he mused. "Who is this individual who managed to steal the heart of the Ice Princess?"
Morgan fidgeted under his scrutiny before shifting her gaze to Merlin, who only responded with an amused shrug.
With a sigh, she straightened her posture and met Arthur's gaze. "His name is Accolon."
Merlin blinked. "Accolon? That young spitfire who challenged you to a duel?"
Morgan nodded, regaining her composure. "I… fell for him."
Her voice was steady, but her fingers curled slightly at her sides as she awaited Arthur's reaction.
To her surprise, his expression softened. "Morgan. It's fine. I'm okay with it, as long as you're happy. If there is anything you need, I'll be there for you."
Morgan's breath hitched. For a moment, warmth spread through her chest.
But before she could bask in it, an image of Mordred flashed through her mind.
This—this moment, this acceptance she receives from her father—was something he never had.
The realization dulled the warmth, replacing it with a quiet ache. She didn't let it show, but the weight of her guilt pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting.
She had buried it deep, but it was always there, gnawing at the edges of her conscience.
Still, she made a silent vow.
If by some impossible miracle Mordred returned, she would do whatever it took to fix her mistake.
If he never forgave her, so be it. If his hatred still burned, she would bear it. If he wanted her out of his life, she would accept it, no matter how much it hurt.
That would be her punishment.
Shaking the thoughts away, she refocused on the present.
"Thinking of a date with Accolon now that Arthur's given the green light?" Merlin's smirking face appeared in her peripheral vision, her tone dripping with mischief.
Morgan rolled her eyes but had no chance to respond as a servant approached, bowing respectfully.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness, and Lady Merlin. Greetings. The Emperor is awaiting you in the dining hall."
Merlin blinked. "That maniac is early? Now that's a phenomenon."
"Merlin." Arthur's tone carried a warning edge.
Unbothered, Merlin shrugged. "Just saying."
Arthur ignored her and turned back to the servant. "Has the Saintess arrived as well?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. She has just arrived and is being guided to the dining hall as we speak."
Arthur nodded. "Very well. Lead the way."
As they followed the servant, Merlin sidled up beside Morgan, grinning. "Nervous?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Why should I be?"
"Well, you'll be having dinner with the most powerful individuals on the planet."
Morgan gave her an unimpressed look. "I am the daughter of High King Arthur Pendragon and the Crown Princess of this kingdom. Meeting the other Crowns is part of my duty."
Merlin chuckled at her confidence. "Fair point."
She cast a glance toward the grand doors ahead, an amused gleam in her eyes.
"This is going to be one interesting meal."