I struggled to catch my breath.

Why?

Well, when Queen Guinevere pulls you into a tight hug, burying your face in her chest, breathing becomes quite the challenge.

At that moment, I found myself torn between enjoying the embrace and fighting off a sense of panic.

By the Incarni! She was bloody strong! Try as I might, I couldn't break free from her hold.

"You've grown taller, Mordred!" Guinevere exclaimed, playfully tousling my hair. "And you've become quite the beauty. For a moment, I almost mistook you for a girl!"

I attempted to respond but found it difficult with my air supply restricted.

My thoughts were drifting between the discomfort and the realization that the High Queen was rather... well-endowed. Not too big, definitely not small—just the right size.

No wonder the Lancelot of my old world was infatuated with Guinevere.

"Mother, please let him go. You're suffocating him," a very familiar voice interjected from behind us.

"Oh, I think he's enjoying it," Guinevere quipped.

I tried to protest, but the lack of oxygen was making me feel lightheaded. Not good.

"Release him, Your Majesty. He's one of my best Deathwalkers," Kay's authoritative voice chimed in.

After what felt like an eternity, during which I was perilously close to losing consciousness, she finally released me from her embrace.

"Sorry about that, Mordred. But it was so good to see you again!" Guinevere explained with a warm smile.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I managed to croak out a response, "It's fine. I understand."

Activating my strand, I accelerated my blood to give me a much-needed boost, allowing me to stand straight and compose myself before our guests.

Guinevere stood before me, dressed casually yet elegantly in a brown sweater with full ruffled sleeves, paired with grey pants and brown boots.

Her outfit accentuated her athletic and well-endowed figure, while her long hair cascaded down her shoulders like a golden waterfall.

Cross-shaped silver earrings dangled from her ears, while a black choker adorned her neck.

Damn. She looked like an older and more mature version of Elaine.

Known as the most beautiful woman in the Kingdom, Guinevere's beauty was unparalleled, rivaled only by my mother, Morgause.

Despite appearing to be in her twenties, this woman is actually in her forties. Her body is in perfect harmony with ardor, which naturally keeps her youthful appearance.

Standing just behind her, dressed casually yet stylishly in a collared t-shirt and jeans, was Gawain.

Three years had brought about noticeable changes in him. He had grown taller, and his features had become sharper.

His jet-black hair, now longer and slightly unkempt, reached down to his neck. I even caught a glimpse of tattoos on his arms and one peeking out from his collar.

Yet, amidst these changes, his emerald green eyes remained unchanged, still sparkling with the same kindness and mischief as always.

He smiled warmly at me, "Hey Red. Sorry, it took so long."

Guinevere stepped aside with a smile as I approached Gawain and embraced him.

"You could've visited sooner, you jerk," I said, my voice almost cracking.

"Sorry," he apologized again, his tone sincere, "Rebuilding a nation took longer than I thought."

Yep. You heard it right, readers.

Soon after I was assigned to the Shield, the High King tasked Gawain with assisting in the rebuilding efforts of a neighboring small island nation that had recently undergone a civil war.

As the highly capable High Prince that he was, Gawain successfully led the nation's recovery efforts, bringing it back to stability in just three years.

Just bloody crazy. That's how capable Gawain is.

Sure, we kept in contact with each other, but due to the communication restrictions in the Shield, we rarely conversed.

"I wish Morg could see this," Guinevere remarked, her blue eyes filled with melancholic happiness.

I let go of Gawain and turned to her, nodding my head, feeling a wave of emotions that I hadn’t expected. "Mother… it’s been some time. You look as beautiful as ever."

A shocked silence followed my words as everyone stared at me. I looked at Guinevere’s shocked face as she processed what she had just heard.

"Mother?" she blurted out, looking at Gawain. "Did he just call me mother?"

Gawain smiled and nodded.

Guinevere’s face morphed from shock to pure, unfiltered joy, her eyes shimmering as if a long-held dream had finally come true.

Swift as lightning, she pounced on me for another hug, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes as she pressed my face against her soft bosom.

"I’ve always wished to hear you call me that. I guess I’ve finally earned the right," she murmured, hugging me closely.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I smiled and hugged her back.

Like I said, Guinevere was one of the very few who showed kindness to Mordred and treated him well. Sure, she wasn’t always there, but she tried her best.

The final vestiges of the old Mordred’s soul agreed with my decision to call her mother.

It felt right like a piece of my fractured past finally fitting into place.

After everything she had done for me and Gawain, she deserved to be called that.

She really is the mother who stepped up.

*******

"Looks like you were enjoying the High Queen's embrace."

Iris remarked with a dangerous smile, her eyes regarding me with murderous intent.

I swallowed nervously. "It's not like I asked for it. She practically smothered me," I defended, feeling the need to explain myself.

"And yet you seemed oddly comfortable," she pointed out, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Don't tell me. Are you jealous?"

"Am I jealous?" Iris glanced at her own chest, perfect for her slim figure, then at the smiling High Queen.

Her voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it. "Indeed I am."

Guinevere chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Their banter reminds me of your mum and Arthur," she remarked to Gawain.

Gawain rolled his eyes. "Mother, you're the reason they're bickering in the first place."

"I was merely showing him affection," the High Queen protested, her expression sincere.

"Oh, of course you were, Your Majesty," Iris interjected, her sarcasm barely concealed.

I couldn’t help but marvel at Iris’s audacity. She’s being sassy with the bloody High Queen!

Guinevere seemed to take it in stride, her smirk widening. "Still as feisty as ever, Iris," she remarked.

Iris shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I have changed a bit. Six years is a long time, Your Majesty."

I looked between the two ladies, puzzled. "You know each other?"

They nodded simultaneously.

"We kind of stumbled into each other about six years ago," Iris explained.

"Indeed," Guinevere confirmed. "Arthur had a meeting with Duke Karsus, and I tagged along."

The mention of her father made Iris’s eyes darken, and her fists clenched at her sides. I could feel the tension building.

I quickly placed my hand on hers, squeezing gently. "Calm down. Don’t start zapping everyone with your black bolts."

Guinevere winced sympathetically. "Sorry about that. It seems like your father is still a sore subject for you."

"Of course," Iris nodded, her voice low but steady. "Some things don’t easily fade away, Your Majesty."

"I understand," Guinevere replied, her tone softening before continuing. "I was getting quite bored of the formal discussions and went for a stroll around the estate."

Her blue eyes fell on Iris, and the memory seemed to pull her back. "And that’s when I stumbled into you. A small ten-year-old girl covered in blood and bruises."

The room went silent, the weight of her words settling over us like a dark cloud. Iris tightened her grip around my wrist, her usually composed expression faltering for a brief moment.

"What?" I asked, my voice dangerously low as the image of a bloodied, ten-year-old Iris flashed in my mind. "What the hell happened?"

"I had just finished a sparring session with my brothers," Iris explained, her tone calm but tinged with a hint of old pain. "Her Majesty discovered me as I was on my way back to the attic."

Guinevere nodded somberly, recalling the encounter. "I was horrified to find the little girl in such a condition. I healed her and learned her name, Iris Karsus."

Her voice trembled slightly as she continued. "We conversed at length, and it was then that I became aware of the unimaginable hardships she had endured from birth. I still cannot get that over my mind."

My gaze hardened as I confronted the High Queen. "And you did nothing to save her from that hell? As far as I know, Iris remained trapped in the Karsus estate until she turned twelve."

Guinevere met my gaze with a steely resolve. "I was prepared to confront Duke Karsus, but Iris intervened. She insisted that it was her burden to bear and that she alone should resolve it."

"But still!" I rose from the couch, frustration bubbling over.

"I was fully prepared to disregard her wishes and confront the Duke regardless," Guinevere responded with a fierce gaze. "But I saw her eyes. Her bright blue eyes burned fiercely with resolve, and so I decided to respect her wishes."

I shot her a deadpan look. "Seriously? That was so dumb."

Guinevere buried her face in her hands, a sigh escaping her lips. "I know, I know. Don’t remind me. It still haunts me to this day."

I turned to Iris, frustration still simmering beneath the surface. "And why were you so stubborn?"

Iris flashed a sheepish grin. "I didn’t trust anyone back then," she confessed.

"I should’ve accepted the High Queen’s help back then." She sighed, then added with a smirk, "But hey, thanks to that decision of mine, I got to meet you."

I bonked her on the head. "You stupid bitch!"

"Ow! That actually hurt, you jerk!" she retorted, rubbing her head.

"Bullshit! You’re just hamming it up because the High Queen is here!"

Iris blew a raspberry at me. "Spoilsport."

This girl...

Guinevere chuckled, clearly entertained. "This is quite amusing."

"Mother," Gawain sighed, shooting me a pleading look. "Please don’t encourage her antics."

"There’s one more thing," the High Queen added, her expression shifting to one of mischief. "I was able to help Iris when I learned that she was sent to the Shield."

Iris looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Guinevere’s blue eyes glinted playfully. "I was the one who informed Kay about you."

Iris’s eyes widened in realization. "So it was you! I always wondered why the Commander had a special interest in me. After all, I’m not the only bastard from a noble family."

"Ah, that explains a lot," I remarked, turning to confront Kay.

But...

"Hey. Where’s the Commander?"

We scanned the room, but there was no sign of the Knight of the Round.

"Hmm, he must have slipped away," Guinevere noted with a knowing smile.

"Typical Kay. Still the same as his Deathwalker days. I remember him avoiding social interactions when the gang was together in the Shield."

I blinked in confusion at her words. "The gang?"

Guinevere nodded, nostalgia creeping into her voice. "Yeah. Me, Arthur, Morgause, and Kay. We were quite notorious back when we were Deathwalkers."

I stared at her in disbelief, and even Iris seemed taken aback by the revelation.

"You were a Deathwalker?" I asked, astonished.

Guinevere nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "And so was your mother. In fact, she was born in the Shield."

My jaw hit the floor. "My mother was a Deathwalker?"

Guinevere frowned slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Gawain didn’t tell you?"

We looked at the High Prince, who was suddenly very interested in the cup of tea before him.

"Gawain?" Guinevere spoke with narrowed eyes.

He gave a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his head. "I... uh, forgot," he admitted with a nervous chuckle.

"GAWAIN!"