Reflections and Realizations
As Lott pondered the situation, Morgan cast a scrutinizing glance at Baobhan Sith. So this fairy is one of the others Morgan's subordinates in the other timeline? The realization struck her.
After years of hearing Lott's thoughts, Morgan understood a critical truth: there existed another version of herself—one that was twisted and vengeful known as the Witch Queen. The Witch Queen had been consumed by bitterness after losing her throne to Altria, unleashing chaos upon Camelot and using her children, including Gawain, as mere tools for revenge. The tragic outcome was a stark reminder of what could happen when power corrupts one's heart.
The thought sent shivers down her spine. Is this who I might become? Morgan often reflected on her actions, fearing she might follow that dark path. She needed to steer her life toward a happy ending, not one filled with despair like the Witch Queen lived.
Morgan recalled hearing about a third version of herself, The Queen of Winter from a strange, distorted realm that lacked familiar faces, including her sister, Altria, and even her father, King Uther. In that world, no concept of family existed—only fairies. The strangeness of that existence left her feeling unsettled.
Now, learning that Baobhan Sith had been raised in that anomaly and given the title of fairy knight Tristan raised a troubling question. Could this fairy be a potential threat? Morgan felt her resolve harden; she wouldn't allow any fairy to harm her family again.
As Gawain escorted Baobhan Sith away, Morgan turned to Lott, her expression serious. "Lott, you fought well, but you should rest. I'll handle things from here with Gawain."
Gawain's eyes widened in protest. "But Mom, I'm tired too! My hands hurt from... you know..." she trailed off, glancing at her sore palms from spanking Baobhan Sith.
Morgan shot her daughter a stern look. "You? Tired? You're a group-up young lady! Come and help me instead."
Gawain's face fell, disheartened. How can I argue with that? In this era, there was no real protection for children like her; she couldn't simply refuse her mother's orders.
Lott, noticing his daughter's predicament, spoke up gently. "It's alright, Gawain. You can take a break. I'll be fine; stay with your mother."
But Gawain shook her head. "Dad, I'm good! I want to stay!"
Lott knocked her shoulder lightly. "No. You need rest. Go ahead."
Reluctantly, Gawain acquiesced. "Okay, I'll rest then."
Once she left, Lott removed his sun wheel armour, revealing his normal clothes beneath. "So, what do you think? My armour? Isn't it handsome?" His eagerness for praise was palpable.
Morgan couldn't help but roll her eyes but obliged. "Of course, it's very handsome."
Content with her praise, Lott took Morgan's hand, and they began to walk. "But really, isn't it odd? We're having a date outside a prisoner camp. It feels like we're robbers admiring our spoils!"
Morgan laughed, her mood lightening. "That's because you lost your identity. I've never seen such impressive armour and sword before, and it's amusing."
"Hey, at least I'm entertaining!" Lott scratched his head sheepishly.
"True enough. You make a good point."
They settled onto a nearby bench, and Morgan playfully patted Lott's leg. "Alright, Pervert, after all that fighting, you need to relax."
"Huh? What are you planning? A massage?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes," she admitted, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, even though it wasn't their first time. "Now lie down."
With a smile, Lott obeyed, ready to enjoy the moment.