Chapter 50: Guinevere

After using suggestion magic to coax the location of Queen Guinevere's chambers out of a few maids, Aslan didn't hesitate. Lowering his presence as much as possible, he made his way toward the queen's room. As the wife of King Arthur, Guinevere naturally resided in one of the innermost and highest parts of the royal castle.

It was a safe location—secure enough that even in the event of an emergency, it wouldn't fall easily. In the hearts of the knights, Camelot was a city that would never fall. After all, this was the radiant, unbreakable city of glory.

Glancing down the corridor and confirming that aside from a few maids busily cleaning there was no one else around, Aslan gently knocked on the door. A gentle voice soon responded from within, "Come in."

Upon opening the door, Aslan finally laid eyes on the woman known in legend as the queen who led to King Arthur's downfall.

Guinevere—an intelligent woman with an idealistic, almost naïve heart. Her union with King Arthur might have started as admiration, but now, having accepted Artoria's true gender, she likely stayed for the sake of the country's peace. She understood all too well how much effort Arthur had expended to quell the civil unrest and, from the depths of her heart, respected and loved the king.

It was an outcome she had no choice but to accept. To obtain what she loved, only to discover it was an illusion—was it like being told it was something she could never truly have? Was it betrayal and despair she felt, or was it sympathy for the king's fate?

Perhaps both.

Though Guinevere knew the truth, she still stood by the king's side as queen. Their marriage, blessed by all, was for her little more than a gilded cage.

The king often fretted over this. "What are you saying, Artoria? You, too, know the pain of not being acknowledged because you're a woman, don't you?" But Guinevere could only accept the queen's forced smiles and kindness.

Even if the relationship between the king and queen was false, the friendship that had grown between them was genuine. That bond of trust appeared, at least to outsiders, like the harmony between a loving couple.

"Are you here to deliver supper? You're working hard, young knight."

Guinevere smiled, her gaze on Aslan tinged with gentle affection. It was the kind of affection that came from being the king's wife, directed toward one of the knights loyal to the king. Technically, she was their liege lady. Since she herself couldn't step onto the battlefield, all she could do was entrust these knights to act as the king's shield and sword—to protect her.

That said, in the reality of war, it was still King Arthur who led them into battle.

"Speaking of which, your brows and eyes really do resemble the king's. I'm sure you'll become a renowned and powerful knight someday."

Looking at Guinevere before him, Aslan felt a brief pang of conflicted emotion. But in the end, this was Artoria's personal affair. Even if he was her cousin, it wasn't his place to interfere. Was he supposed to take Artoria's place and console Guinevere?

Besides, if he and this woman were to bear a child, that child would carry royal blood. From outward appearance alone, no one would suspect the child wasn't Arthur's. But Aslan wasn't some opportunistic Cao Cao, and he had no desire to be caught up in a future melodrama.

Taking a deep breath, Aslan quickly lifted the illusion on his hair and eye color. He was about to use suggestion magic, and appearing more like Artoria would enhance its effectiveness.

"Guinevere, look into my eyes. Right now, I am Artoria Pendragon. Hand me the key to the treasury—and forget everything that happens after this."

The suggestion magic he had learned from Morgan, now enhanced, took effect swiftly. Guinevere's expression froze for a moment before she furrowed her brow, resisting slightly. But eventually, under the magic's influence, her resistance softened and she calmed.

Aslan inhaled deeply and gently embraced her, leaning close to her ear and speaking in a voice both tender and tinged with a masculine assertiveness.

"Give me the key, Guinevere..."

Guinevere trembled—perhaps in reluctance, perhaps in yearning—but the hypnotic spell held firm.

This might have been underhanded, even disgraceful if it was just to gain access to the treasury. But in truth, Aslan still felt a certain distance between himself and the people of Camelot. That was why he could act this way. In many ways, he still didn't quite belong in this world.

Aslan wasn't a perfect saint. He couldn't handle every situation flawlessly. Maybe this, too, was part of fate's design—to draw Aslan and the people of Camelot closer together. The more he became entangled in their affairs, the harder it would be to separate from them.

After receiving the key from Guinevere, Aslan left the room. Only after putting some distance between them did he lift the suggestion.

Not long after, Lancelot arrived. As one of the few who knew the king's true identity, the knight was deeply worried about the queen's mental state. Without consulting anyone, he had decided to act as her unofficial counselor—to lend an ear to her thoughts and feelings.

At that moment, Guinevere still felt an emptiness inside her. Though she had been under suggestion, her heart kept telling her that the one who had held her wasn't Artoria—it was a man.

Now that the magic had been lifted, Guinevere had forgotten the details of what had happened. Yet the lingering emptiness in her heart left her feeling as though she was yearning for something. She knew such feelings were wrong, so she buried them deep within herself.

"Your Majesty, Sir Lancelot requests an audience."

Guinevere quickly composed herself. Taking a deep breath in the room, she once again wore the smile of Camelot's queen.

"Sir Lancelot? Please, let him in."

Aslan had no idea what kind of change he had brought upon Guinevere. Even if he did, he likely wouldn't have reacted much. To him, Guinevere was still just a "stranger." The only one he held in his heart was Melusine—the one and only dragon.

With the key in hand, Aslan made his way to the treasury. The guards stationed there had already been knocked unconscious by his dragon, who now stood playfully pretending to nap as though she hadn't done anything at all.

Aslan chuckled. Seeing Melusine's expression soften while wearing her teasing magical gear, he felt his heart flutter. As expected, this proud yet bashful, pure-hearted dragoness was the one who captivated him the most.