webnovelvip Chapter 18 Fairy Queen
Chapter 18 Fairy Queen
Guinevere stayed in Camelot for three days.
During those three days, she rarely stayed in the guest room.
Every morning, she would go for a walk in the garden and watch the flowers she didn't know bloom in the morning light.
In the afternoon, she would sit by the pond and stare blankly at the frog.
In the evening, she would walk up the city wall and watch the sunset turn the whole of Camelot into gold.
She didn't deliberately seek out Arthur, but Arthur would always appear by her side.
On the first day, he met her in the garden and told her the names of the flowers.
"These are irises, those are lilies, and the ones by the pond are forget-me-nots."
The next day, he sat by the pond with her, watching the frog, and said:
"This frog used to be a knight, but my sister turned him into this. Later, the magic was lifted, but he didn't want to leave, so he stayed."
Guinevere looked at the frog and said softly, "Perhaps he felt that being a frog was freer than being a knight."
Arthur glanced at her but said nothing.
On the third day, as the sun set, Guinevere stood on the city wall, and Arthur walked up to her.
"You're going back tomorrow," he said.
"Yes." Guinevere nodded, her light golden hair swaying gently in the evening breeze. "My father wrote to urge me to return; the mission departs early tomorrow morning."
Arthur remained silent for a moment.
"How have you been these past three days?"
Guinevere thought for a moment, her azure eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.
"That's great," she said softly. "For the first time, I feel like I don't have to breathe so hard."
Arthur looked at her.
Her profile glowed softly in the setting sun, her eyelashes fluttered slightly, and a faint smile played on her lips.
It wasn't a perfect, rehearsed smile, but a genuine, relaxed smile, tinged with a touch of melancholy yet warm.
"Guinevere," Arthur called her by her name, without adding "Your Highness."
She turned her head, her azure eyes meeting his gaze.
"Will you marry me?" he asked.
Guinevere's pupils contracted slightly, and she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Her hands were trembling slightly, but she did not avoid his gaze.
"You..." Her voice was a little hoarse, "Are you asking me?"
"I'm asking you," Arthur said.
"I'm not asking Princess Camerid, I'm asking you, Guinevere, would you like to be my family?"
Guinevere's eyes reddened.
"I..." She lowered her head, her long, light blonde hair falling to the side of her face, obscuring her expression. "I don't know."
"I don't know whether I'm 'willing' or 'unwilling'."
Her voice trembled, "Because no one has ever let me choose, I don't know... what 'choosing' feels like."
Arthur reached out and gently brushed aside the long hair on her face, revealing her blue eyes filled with tears.
"Then take your time thinking about it," he said. "No rush. I can wait."
Guinevere looked up at him.
Tears slid down her cheeks silently.
"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked, "We've only known each other for three days."
"Because you need to," Arthur said, "and five days is enough to see a person's heart."
He withdrew his hand and took a step back.
"I'll see you out of the city tomorrow. After you get back, if you'd like, write to me. If you'd like... then don't write."
Guinevere gripped the white handkerchief in her hand tightly.
It was given to her by Arthur a couple of days ago, with a silver star embroidered on the edge.
"I will write it," she said, her voice soft but firm.
Arthur smiled slightly.
"Okay. I'll wait for you."
The next morning, Guinevere boarded the carriage back to Camerid.
Arthur stood in front of the city gate, watching the caravan depart.
Kai stood beside him, frowning.
"You're just going to let her go like that?"
"Um."
"Not sending anyone to follow?"
"She needs time."
Kai shook his head, turned around, and walked back to the castle.
Arthur continued to stand in front of the city gate until the shadow of the carriage disappeared at the end of the road.
Up in the tower, Morgan stood by the window, her icy blue eyes gazing into the distance.
"She's gone." Mary emerged from behind the bookshelf, holding a cup of hot tea.
"I know."
You seem to be in a bad mood.
"I'm not in a bad mood."
"You ruined a fairy magic trick." Meryl pointed to the stone slab on the table. "You've carved this trick hundreds of times and never made a mistake."
Morgan looked down at the damaged stone slab, a hint of annoyance flashing in his icy blue eyes.
That's because you disturbed me.
Mary shrugged and took a sip of tea.
"You like him."
Morgan looked up and stared at her coldly.
"I told you, if you keep talking nonsense, I'll turn you into a frog."
"You wouldn't want to part with it." Mary smiled, turned, and walked towards the door.
"Because I'm the only one who can talk to you, and you know I'm telling the truth."
She pushed open the door and went out.
Morgan stood by the window, gripping the carving knife tightly in his hand.
"Idiot," she whispered.
It's unclear whether she's referring to Merry, Arthur, or herself.
Five days later, a letter arrived in Camelot.
The letter paper was light blue, and the handwriting on it was delicate and pretty.
It was unsigned, but Arthur knew who wrote it.
The letter was very short, containing only one sentence:
"I'm learning about 'choice,' and when I've mastered it, I'll tell you the answer. — Guinevere"
Arthur folded the letter and put it in his pocket.
"Okay," he said softly.
Up in the tower, Morgan stood by the window, her icy blue eyes watching Arthur walk through the courtyard.
A slight smile played on his lips.
Morgan turned around, walked to the table, picked up the carving knife, and continued carving her magic.
This time, there was no mistake in engraving.
……
After Guinevere left, Camelot returned to her usual routine.
Kay was training his newly recruited knights in the training field, Bedivere was dealing with a mountain of government affairs in his study, and Gawain was leading a small team on a border patrol.
Everyone was doing their job, as if Princess Camellid had never existed.
But Arthur knew that some things had changed.
The pale blue letter was still in his arms; the delicate handwriting seemed like some kind of silent agreement.
"I'm learning about 'choices'. Once I've mastered it, I'll tell you the answer."
He didn't reply. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he felt he should give her time.
For the first time in sixteen years, people are allowed to "choose," and the last thing they need is to be urged.
As evening fell, Arthur went up to the tower alone.
Morgan stayed here for more than ten days, and every floor of the tower was imbued with her magic.
Faint silver-white magical patterns are visible on the wall, like some kind of ancient vine, quietly spreading between the cracks in the stone.
There was a cool, refreshing feeling in the air, not cold, but a calming tranquility that brought peace of mind.
He pushed open the door to the top floor.
Morgan sat by the window, holding a thick ancient book in his hands.
She wore a simple black robe today, and her long, silvery-white hair was loosely draped over her shoulders, gleaming softly in the candlelight.
Her icy blue eyes were focused intently on the pages, her slender fingers gently turning the yellowed parchment.
On the table is her magic workshop.
Several bottles of unknown liquid, a small piece of faintly glowing crystal, and a roll of parchment unfolded, with intricate magic circles drawn on it.
She is the fairy queen of Celtic Britain.
Her magic comes from the island of Britain itself: illusion, curses, domination, astral magic, creation magic—the ancient powers rooted in this land.
"What are you doing here?" Morgan asked without looking up.
"Just came to see you." Arthur walked to the table, his gaze sweeping over the bottles and jars. "What are you studying?"
"Wind King's Barrier." Morgan turned a page in his book.
"A magic technique that manipulates airflow, which can be used to conceal objects, create invisible blades, and also... for protection."
"Protect?"