#bedivere is the only one who I think would come close but the rest? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auniverseforgotten · 7 days

Note

If you’re still doing the ship meme thing I’d love to know your opinions on bedi/saber artoria :3

Heyo, sorry for the delay!! Oooo a fun one! Like I said in the last one I did for Bedi, my stance w/him in my writing is that he remembers Everything and lived it All. And while Saber Artoria wasn't in Camelot she has Definitely been told about what happened.

Also I do wanna mention; I focus a lot on Bedivere trying to come to terms with being in such a close, loving relationship with his King, and I wanted to like. Explain that he does absolutely see Artoria for herself and loves her exactly as she is, but going from loyal knight and friend to partner is a big leap for him so it takes time for him to resettle.

who’s the cuddler:

So as we all know, Bedivere has extremely low self esteem/has extremely low self worth [AND TYPEMOON WON'T LET US MAKE IT BETTER RAHHHHH], however. It's both easier and harder for him to cuddle up with Artoria. Because on the one hand that is his KING, how can he be worthy of being with his KING, especially after he betrayed her- but also if Artoria is receptive to physical affection, part of his general protectiveness of her kicks in because his King Needs him and he'll be damned if he doesn't provide.

And with Artoria, I feel like being a king with so much attention on you and the pressure to be perfect and righteous and good [and then...how it all ended...], it can be hard to reach out for affection, because it's like a hole in the armor, in the mask of perfection. Plus Camelot falling apart like it did in some versions of the Arthurian myths...I feel like it would be hard for her to reach out for or accept physical affection for a while. But once she does start expressing that desire, Bedivere is 100% down to cuddle all the time.

So with these two it's Bedivere, but they're both dealing with. A lot. So it takes a lot of time and patience to get in the swing of things.

who makes the bed:

Bedivere. Artoria absolutely would but there's only so far Bedivere can handle his King just being. A regular person. AND DON'T WORRY that does get addressed, they are a very communicative couple because they're both seen and lived the fallout of poor communication/miscommunication, but even once Bedivere calms down and realizes that yes, this is okay, it's okay that he loves her and that they're together, he does. Mostly calm down. But there are some chores that he just doesn't think she should trouble herself with and this is one of them. Artoria sat him down and made a chore chart with him so he doesn't do everything don't worry.

who wakes up first:

They both wake up at the crack of dawn, if not earlier. Bedivere will go nights without sleep if Artoria doesn't notice/is out on an expedition/journey/etc with Ritsuka, buuuut Artoria also has a nasty habit of doing it whenever things are stressful or tense. It was about survival then for both of them, and neither of them know how to put it down. This has led to a lot of very heavy late night into early morning talks. In recent times Merlin [either summoned to Chaldea or not] has taken to attempting to magically drag one or the other to sleep, as once one is asleep the other usually at the very least Rests if nothing else.

who has the weird taste in music:

I haven't mentioned it in the others I did but honestly this question is hard for me because like. What is weird taste in music? Trick question it's not a thing music is music and it's great

ANYWAY Artoria because she has been summoned SO many times so she's had a lot more time to explore all the music, books, culture, FOOD, etc that the world has to offer. But Bedivere likes anything that makes her happy, SO

who is more protective:

Will I ever not answer this question with both? No.

It's both of them, yeah. They're both very protective people by nature, though if I had to quantify it I'd say Artoria at the base is more protective overall.

Anyway Artoria's protectiveness stems from Bedivere very much being Camelot's Bedivere, therefore never resting, always moving, carrying so much grief and pain for so many years. Now he has been working on that in Chaldea but it's very slow going, so if she notices him doing too many tasks or not sleeping or venturing to much into bad memories, she makes sure to take him aside and help him set things down until he can breathe again. Makes extensive use of the simulation rooms to pull him into nice, soft places to try and recover.

Whereas for Bedivere, he has always needed and wanted to protect his King, but also...he has watched her die before, has been the one to help bring about her death before.

[weird HC but when I write servants I often combine their myths into what creates their base, so while this Bedivere is from Camelot he still has the memories of returning the sword to the lake and having to 'kill' Artoria, either bcus actual mythos or bcus he combined with what mythos there was for Bedivere already established in the grail before being loaded into the throne of heroes. It doesn't make sense but it's fun <3]

SO WITH ALL THAT IN MIND he is very anxious when they are fighting and terrified that she will die or suffer a mortal wound, but he can't just tell her not to fight. It wouldn't be fair, she would fight anyway, and he wouldn't want to force her to be someone who she isn't. So instead he remains as close to her as possible. He also sees how she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders even now, and he wants to alleviate that weight however he can.

AND ANOTHER THING honestly I most often think of Bedivere with Lion King Artoria because of him popping up with her in Temple of Time + him being from her Camelot SO IT'S REALLY FUN to imagine her rolling up and Bedivere, who is always polite and chivalrous to all his Kings faces, is somewhat extra reverent [but almost fearfully so] with her, because he Caused this. And Artoria, who is now just Artoria and not King Arthur is like "oh hey I can be possessive now can't I." and so ANY time the Lion King is around Bedivere Artoria has an arm around his waist, linked with his arm, etc. Yes she has pulled him into a kiss and dipped him in front of her before yes Bedivere did almost die of mortification and Artoria apologized many times when he told her how uncomfortable it was and has not done it again since. The Lion King meanwhile just. Vibes with it. Finds her saber self amusing, does wish she could have Bedivere's loyalty all to herself but eh.

ALSO I headcanon Bedivere as someone who deals with chronic pain due to his physical body deteriorating for literal centuries+a noble phantasm that literally eats away at his spirit origin when he uses it. He doesn't really take care of it well/manage it well himself, always looking at others like Arash and saying "well I'm not suffering as badly as him, surely I shouldn't be taking resources from others" and so Artoria makes sure to have any medication or mobility aids on hand. She doesn't force Bedivere into them because it's a really delicate balance to walk, but her gentle care and like. The 'I have this here, for you, you can use it, you deserve it' that she brings helps. So a quieter sort of protectiveness, the kind that is 'you hurt yourself because you think you aren't worthy to refrain from doing so, so let me be ready to catch you when you fall' sort. But it's a really hard adjustment to make when it just. Starts happening and wasn't something he's dealt with before, so she understands why it takes time.

who sings in the shower:

I feel like both, honestly? Probably really quietly, always a Little embarrassed that someone else could hear, but it's all old ballad songs and such. Sometimes they'll sing together.

who cries during movies:

Bedivere, though only certain ones like animal movies w/animal peril or movies about long, tiring, life-altering journeys that leave you forever changed. Artoria is really stoic when watching movies, I feel. If this is contradicted in some Fate IP I haven't seen don't @ me XD

who spends the most while out shopping:

Typicallyyyyy Artoria, though it's all reasonable, down to earth sort of purchases. Clothes, gear, horse tack for the horse Bedivere bought her, food, reasonable travel expenses, etc. She does every so often see something she wants but isn't Practical so she leaves it be, which is when Bedivere pays attention and buys it for her later, like the horse. In the same vein, Bedivere is also Artoria's weakness in that if she sees something she thinks he even has the smallest chance of needing or wanting, she'll buy it for him.

who kisses more roughly:

I'm gonna say Artoria because again it's reeeaaally hard to imagine Bedivere as a rough kisser. XD Plus these two 100% have a knight/king dynamic going cmon, the RESPECT and LOYALTY kinks are off the CHARTS

who is more domineering:

Artoria again, for the reasons stated above!

my rating of the ship from 1-10:

Prooobably about a 7.5/10? They're an enjoyable ship but not my favorite Bedivere ship, plus like I said I feel like there's a lot of tasty angst to be explored with Lion King Artoria...BUT THEY'RE STILL GOOD!!

THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!!

Ask meme here.

#solar screams #solar writes #fgo #bedivere #artoria #beditoria #idk their ship name lol

0 notes

akampana · 3 years

Note

Prompt n.24 sounds very interesting. Arturia is a king, but also a knight. And the one thing a knight has by their side, is their trusted weapon...

But we know that sometimes, a weapon is not just a weapon. Sometimes its much more...

Right, Cu Alter?

24. “You will never lose me. I will always be right here beside you.”

Cu Alter x Arturia

One-shot, set in a world where Cú Chulainn and King Arthur exist in the same time period. Enjoy! Thanks for the ask!

___

A loud clang resounded within the stone confines of the throne room, and yet it was quiet compared to the storm raging hell outside, and quieter still to the turmoil that wracked King Arthur’s mind.

Tristan’s desertion was followed by those of a number of knights. The first crack in the glass foundation that kept Camelot’s flag flying high. The exposure of Lancelot’s affair, however, was the hammer that finally smashed it to smithereens. Now here she was left amongst the rubble, with an aggrieved Gawain, a conflicted Bedivere and the cold, dead body of poor Agravain, who fell victim to her excommunicated First Knight. Arturia did not know where Merlin was. Kay had left months ago with all his fortune. She needn’t be a genius to know he wasn’t coming back.

What the people demanded was revenge for King Arthur’s cuckolding: the hunt and execution of the treacherous French knight that fled to his homeland, to whom Arturia held no grudge. Her logic demanded she carry out the farce, but what remained of her sealed-up heart did not.

From this derived her conflict, which she wrestled in solitude, here at the glaringly empty Round Table that used to seat her comrades.

Pursue the man she’s forgiven or stay her hand? Give the people what they want or stand by her own beliefs?

Arturia flinched as cool metal brushed against her fingertips, her startled eyes climbing to meet orbs the color of the wine she just spilled.

“King—!” the glare he sent her stilled her tongue at once, his inhuman crimson eyes glowing in the dim candlelight.

“Cú,” she corrected herself, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself. Her thinner night garbs did little to hide the secret of her sex. In the dead of night, she wasn’t expecting any visitors. Especially not at the Round Table, which was devoid of all life at this hour.

“Has your fire gone out for the night?” she said, twisting her father’s silver ring around her thumb as she spoke, “I will arrange for a servant to assist you at once—”

“Forget it,” interrupted the brutal warrior, reclining himself into Lancelot’s former seat as he poured his own goblet. “Can’t sleep in all this racket.”

She knew instinctively he didn’t mean the storm. Regretful green eyes inspected the mess in the corner, wasted wine that was a victim to her ire. Briefly, she wondered how the foreign king could hear her from all the way in the east wing, but it was hardly important. Cú was already a man of few words. He wouldn’t waste any on small talk.

“Yer gonna chase the bastard, aren’t ya? It’s what yer subjects want,” came his raspy declaration, cutting in through the silence just before a crack of lightning illuminated the room. Their eyes clashed in the glaring white light, blood orbs against evergreen.

“I can...I cannot deny them the justice they expect of me,” she answered, grief lacing the small voice that barely carried itself through the thunder.

“So you deny yerself. Just like you’ve done all yer life. Ain’t that right, Arturia?”

It took King Arthur a moment to fully grasp what had come out of his lips. Her breath began to labor as she wracked her brain for an excuse. Panic settled into her bones faster than the snow outside seeped into the grass. Before she could formulate anything, however, she felt Cú’s fingers encircle her wrist.

“Relax. I ain’t telling no one. Weapons don’t talk, remember?” he soothed, as much as an emotionless killing machine could, anyway.

“You are not just a weapon. We have been over this.” Arturia shot back, momentarily forgetting the source of her stress.

As her frantic breaths began to still, she managed a small question. “How long have you known?”

His claws released their grip, lamenting the small indents they left on her skin. “Since ya wasted yer fourteenth seat on a foreign king that once would have torn yer land asunder.”

Cú reached past her arms, lifting the wool cloak from the short king’s chest. Sure enough, he now had his confirmation, a modest chest that was so cleverly hidden behind her armor plates.

“‘Tis of little consequence to me,” he voiced, replacing the garment she pulled so closely around herself. She watched him as he gave her another glass of wine, trying to discern if he spoke the truth.

“I don’t bloody care about what’s between yer legs, the same way you never cared for this fucking tail that trails behind me. All I need to hear are yer orders,” her allied king continued, flicking away a loose strand of hair with the scaly appendage.

“If ya wanna kill Lancelot, Arturia, I’m with ya. Point me in the way of France. But if not, then gimme some other fucking command. I don’t give a shit, as long as it’s what ya want.”

The King of Knights pursed her lip, still unaccustomed to hearing her real name from one who wasn’t supposed to know her secret. Especially when the one who used it was someone she did not expect: the displaced King of Connacht, who was more frequently an envoy serving at her court as an allied Warrior of the Round Table than the ruler of his late queen’s territory. The latter job, Cú had delegated to Fergus, as the “Mad” King had chosen to dedicate his freedom to the one that liberated him.

Arturia shook off his crass manner of speech. After nearly a decade of having him by her side, she’d grown accustomed to his language, even if he was frequently scoffed at by Agravain and Gaheris when the siblings still lived.

The reminder of her knights’ deaths led her gaze back to her table and its empty seats. There were so few that still belonged to the living. Some of them were never to be filled again. Arturia turned to her right, to where Lancelot once sat, meeting ruby eyes instead of onyx ones.

“Then how about this,” she suggested, imprinting the Irish King’s face into her memory the same way she’d done for the rest of her knights. Slowly, she slipped off the silver ring she’d been fiddling with and slid it onto his pinky.

“Return to your homeland with as much gold as you can carry and my eternal gratitude. Take a fourth of the cattle. Reward each of those in your service with one and keep the rest to enrich Connacht.”

Thunder raged on outside the castle walls, but it was the silence of the king before her that unnerved Arturia to a ridiculous extent. For while neither were as talkative as her remaining nephew, the quiet had never been quite so tense.

“The hell?” Cú finally asked, glaring at the Pendragon ring with disgust instead of honor. “You’d have me run? Do ya think me a coward—”

“—I think you are a king that should not die for the flag of a kingdom that is not his,” she cut him off, grasping his hand before he could tear her father’s ring off. “You asked for an order. This is it.”

Cú Chulainn’s claws dug into the collar of her cloak, as he pulled her to his face, a menacing look upon his countenance.

“An order?” he grunted harshly, “Or a feeble attempt at driving me away before I can leave you?”

Arturia’s struggles suddenly ceased, her limbs going limp before the foreign king finally let go of her clothes. The chairs screeched as each ruler fell back onto them, the older one far more irate than the younger.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Cú murmured, his voice soft as his fist thudded onto the circular table. “Ya’ve been an absolute tool since that depressing redhead turned in his rank, and some thoughtless fools followed. Then ya let Lancelot leave, don’t even bloody try to tell me he got away.”

Arturia turned her head, hiding her eyes behind her hay-colored hair. It mattered not how her charisma could sway crowds, her tongue knew not how to lie. Green eyes searched the empty room, counting the few chairs that would be occupied tomorrow. Her sister’s remaining sons’, Bedivere’s and...oh, how very few.

Arturia rested her hand on his fist, urging him to keep the heirloom as proof of the great service he gave Camelot.

“Go home, Cú. I cannot...I cannot lose you, too.” the British king sighed, getting used to the chill of solitude. She’d always known that a life as king was a life alone. At least with Cú, she could choose the day he left, instead of spending her time counting the days till he made his exit, just like her knights, her wizard, her brother.

“Don’t ask something so fucking stupid then go looking so damn pitiful,” he responded, flipping their hands and dragging her into his space till her lips touched his.

There was a reason Cú had stayed, pawning off Connacht to someone else that deserved it more and joining Camelot’s court instead. Not only had Arturia broken the geis that kept him tied to Medb, but she also gave him purpose.

Cú never spoke of it, but he remembered their first meeting like it was yesterday.

It was on the battlefield, back when he was still bound by geis to serve another mistress. Medb, the sly vixen, had tricked him into her service, forcing him into the frontlines till he’d slain every single one of his former comrades.

Bathed in the blood of his friends, the red clouding his vision, the man who was once Ulster’s proudest warrior was no more. His valiant face was replaced by a monstrous visage, his armaments were stained black. Upon his head sat a crown of thorns, forced onto his head by a queen who knew nothing but chaos.

Before long, the name he was proud to take up had been given new meaning. He was no longer Ulster’s guard dog, but Medb’s rabid hound, who sunk his teeth into anything and everything that so much as irked the devilish queen. Cú Alter, she called him, now that she’d bent him to her tastes. Cú Alter, a fitting name to a warrior forced to tarnish his own title.

As the bodies piled up around him, no rhyme nor reason for their slaughter, Cú began to see himself in a darker light, grasping at straws for some sort of purpose behind all the mindless killing.

He must have been a monster. A monster that massacred all that stood in his way regardless of honor and glory. Yes, that must have been it, he convinced himself, finally submitting to the dark cage that his hated loathsome queen had put him under.

As the black chains dragged him deeper and deeper into his own personal hell, he took up his spear once again. It lashed out whenever he touched it, staining itself dark till the vibrant red he used to wield was nowhere to be found. Once more, to the battlefield, said Medb. Once more, he tore across it with a godlike ease.

Then suddenly the cursed spear collided with its match, a sword of shining light that glowed as bright as its wielder. He remembered the moment so clearly, his breath hitching at his throat as his strikes were pushed back, the wind pressure whipping his hood out of his face. His heart pounded with adrenaline as his gaze fell down to his opponent: a tiny little thing, so small they should have fallen to his last strike, but there they still stood, defiant green eyes staring up at him with no fear.

Rage overtook his figure, fueling his strikes as he tried to cast the small warrior back, but all his efforts were met with equal force.

“My name is Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot.” a small voice, too fragile to have been a man’s, rung out across the battlefield. Spear met sword once again, pausing in their dance.

“Your name, knight.”

Even though he stayed on his feet, it was like the king had pulled the rug from under him. Their eyes locked once more, and he saw himself within the green irises, staring mouth agape at his opponent.

His name? His name? How long had it been since he’d been asked for his name? How many foes had he slain since then? How many nameless faces had he sent to the grave? How could this person, this puny king, take one look at his monstrous form and face him like a knight regardless?

“Cú Chulainn,” came his raspy voice, which too often had been used to roar like a beast. It felt foreign on his lips, which had ‘til then spoke nothing but bitter resentment.

That day, Arturia saw more than the monster. More than the weapon he’d disillusioned himself into being. Cú followed the king after Medb’s defeat, intending to find some proof that it was all a fluke, but it never happened. Arturia never treated him or her knights like a weapon or a tool. Arturia treated him like an equal.

And now, years spent the line, she was robbing him of that feeling, sending him away with glory and riches. If he were younger, he’d have jumped at the prize of heroic fame, but that was no longer what he wanted. What he wanted was to be right here, right next to the person that made him feel human again.

As their lips parted, Cú sent a glare through the empty seats of each of the deserters. He’d never understand how they could leave their king behind. He’d met his fair share of monarchs— hell, he technically was one—and even as belligerent a person he was, he wouldn’t wield his spear for any other.

“You will never lose me,” Cú declared in between rough kisses. “I will always be right here beside you. Understand?”

The Irishman returned her ring as she nodded, breathless, into his shoulder. She had one. Even if the world were to turn on Arturia, she still had one. One that would stay forever beside her.

Beside her...

Beyond Cú, the shorter king saw the backrest of Lancelot’s former seat, and finally, she knew just what to do to settle the people and follow her heart at the same time.

“Disregard my previous orders. Heed this instead…”

As the words left his king’s lips, Cú Chulainn proudly grinned.

#and then the two of them make sure the battle of camlann never happens #the end #hahahaahh #akampana asks #love confession prompts #tysm for the ask!#cuturia #cu alter x arturia #cutoria #cu alter #arturia pendragon #artoria pendragon #arturia #artoria #saber #berserker #fgo #fate

12 notes · View notes

kiatkiat-tree · 4 years

Text

Wanderers

A/N: For anon who requested! Honestly, um... it didn’t go romantically. I think Bedivere would be the type to take things incredibly slow. Aside from his Servant-Master thing, it would take some time to form an actual relationship with him. The kiss was a catalyst, but it probably wasn’t the right one to use. Btw I STILL DONT KNOW which name to use: gudako, ritsuka, (Y/N).

Thank you for requesting dear anon!

Even though it had only been a few months since Bedivere was summoned to Chaldea, he felt himself subconsciously reaching for his Master. Gudako had invited him to her room multiple times, talking or asking about anything. In a way, she reminded him of his King. This, he told her multiple times.

“To prevent the incineration of humanity is your goal. That is something my king should also wish for,” Bedivere said. He didn't miss the way Gudako's eyes left him. A Court Official shouldn't be without their perception, after all. Without skipping a beat, he followed up with a, “Is there something wrong, Master?”

“Ah, not at all, Bedivere,” she said. Her seemingly lost eyes were focused again as she picked a biscuit up, looking at it like it was the most interesting object in the world. The Servant didn't believe her, but he said nothing. He trusted her enough to tell him the truth when it was appropriate. “I mean, it's true. Your King is a good person.”

“If your ideals align with theirs, then I'm pleased to be serving you, Master,” Bedivere commented before the conversation came to a lull. The silence allowed him to dwell on his thoughts, as well as the burden weighing on his Master's shoulders. If anything, he was glad that Gudako was allowed down times like this, in between Singularities and training.

“Anyway, it's 2 PM,” she spoke up again, brushing the crumbs off her mouth. Bedivere didn't need to check the schedule to know it's time for her afternoon training. The two of them placed their hands on the food tray at the same time, but Bedivere was quick to speak up.

“Allow me to clean it up for you, Master. The others must be waiting,” he interjected, covering Gudako's hand with his. The odd red tint to her cheeks didn't fade, even when he let her go. He bid her farewell before stacking the teacups on their respective plates and making sure no crumbs were left behind on her personal desk.

His loyalty to the King was never to be tested, and yet here he was, cleaning his Master's table with the same devotion as unsheathing a sword on the battlefield. No, it was not that. Dedication to his King was the sole purpose of his life, and yet, he couldn't help but feel affectionate for his Master.

Affection that bloomed in spite of humanity's state. Confused because of his devotion to his King, but encouraged by his respect for his Master. Gudako wasn't very subtle in hiding her emotions, either. Still, as a Servant and a Knight of the Round Table, Bedivere couldn't let himself be as carefree as her.

ii.

If Gudako's memory wasn't wrong, enemy homunculi were lancers. That meant Bedivere had an advantage over them. But as the two of them hid behind a tree, she knew something significant had to be done to turn the tide. Her Servant was badly wounded and exhausted, with barely enough mana to unleash his Noble Phantasm.

The doctor's connection was unstable, too. Damn it all, Gudako couldn't help but think. This was supposed to be training, not some life-or-death situation. She shivered, pulling Bedivere's cape around her tighter. The two of them were alone, because of her selfishness and poor planning.

When they entered the area, Gudako was confident of Bedivere's abilities and her own. Now, she wasn't doubting her Servant, of course, because only she was to blame for all of this. Aside from training focused on just this one knight, she wanted to spend some alone time with him as well. What a petty excuse to not bring anyone else!

What made it worse was Bedivere's forgiving expression. He gave her his cape in case she felt too cold, even letting her curl into him for the time being. The idea of staying there forever in his hold was too tempting, and yet she knew it was a bad idea. The longer they stayed there, the longer she was going to get drained of her energy and mana. Gudako was useless as a Master.

“This is not your fault, Master. My ineptitude has—“

“Don't say that. None of this is your fault,” Gudako was quick to cut him off with her own words. The last thing she needed was Bedivere blaming himself. She tucked her legs inside the cape, making herself as small as she feels. Her Servant's cold armor wasn't very comfortable, but she wasn't complaining. It kept him safe, especially with the sounds of the nearing homunculi.

She felt him shift against her, preparing for combat. “Master, please give me your orders. Even if I have to fight until my last breath, it is necessary for you to return to Chaldea safely. The field the homunculi has brought with them will perish all the same, so the doctor will be able to rayshift you safely.”

If Gudako wasn't sure about her ability to drown out certain sentences, she was now. She stood up with him, securing his cape back onto his armor. She stared at him, taking a deep breath.

“As if I'd let you die here!” she hissed. Mana pulsed through her veins, just enough to fill in the gaps for Bedivere. If she could help him unleash his Noble Phantasm, they'd both come out of this alive. Even if she supplied him with mana, she wouldn't die. At least, not immediately. “I have mana to spare. Let me give you some.”

“No. You will perish if you do that, Master. I cannot allow such acts,” he pushed. The suggestion was too much, even for her. His body tensed as Gudako took his hands in hers. Such a simple action would've made her flustered if they were in any other situation, but she was serious here.

Gudako whispered a small apology before pressing her lips against his. Direct mana transfers like this were rare, and she understood when Bedivere jerked away from her. His eyes were widened, horrified, but Airgetlam began to glow. The transfer was successful at the cost of their friendship, it seemed.

She felt more drained than usual, a sign of overworking her magic circuits. She slumped against the tree, barely keeping her eyes open while watching her Servant. “Unleash your Noble Phantasm,” she said before finally falling asleep.

iii.

It's been two weeks since their last mission, and two weeks since Gudako has actually talked to him. Bedivere wasn't the type to look for attention, but rather, he was concerned. The Master took a day and a half to sleep, and another day to recover. Dr. Roman reported that she was fine but a bit sore when he asked.

Asking her questions about the mana transfer could wait. Instead, he offered to help her in her recovery, only to be ignored by his Master and prodded by Mordred. The brash knight was acting like an overprotective guard dog that could rival Cu Chulainn. Of course, this also meant questions about what happened.

“Ha?! What do you mean, 'you let Master do it'?! I'll bash your face in, you honor student!” Mordred yelled, earning her a few looks from the others in the hallways. Gudako was nowhere to be found, and this young woman wouldn't answer Bedivere until she was satisfied. “You're the reason why she's limping like that?!”

“Please keep your voice down. I don't wish to disturb others,” he replied. While he disagreed with Mordred's way of speech, he couldn't help but feel the effects of her words. His Master was forced to do such a thing just to save both of them. In fact, despite her reassuring words, he couldn't help but feel as if he's failed both his King and his Master.

“What? As if you're to talk. I bet everyone just wants to know how the hell she ended up in that state,” she retorted, rolling her shoulder. It looked like she was getting ready to make her words come true. Bedivere trusted in the Chaldea Security System for breaking up fights, though. “A mana transfer that you couldn't stop... what, did she kiss you or something?”

He only faltered for a moment, but Mordred already caught onto it. She continued her rambling. “Really? The two of you did it?” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. There hadn't been any explicit confirmation from him yet, but at this point, it was unnecessary. “So that's why she's been acting like... hey! Go talk to her!”

Mordred was acting as if Bedivere hadn't tried that already. The last time he knocked on Gudako's door, something crashed onto the floor and yet she acted as if no one was there. It was obvious their mental link was being actively blocked as well. He tried to call out to her, even just to check on her, but he couldn't. The kiss was an act of desperation, and yet...

“All has been tried and done. It is up to Master to forgive me for letting her do such an act. I understand it was out of desperation, but I understand the toll it has on her. After all, we're only Servant and Master,” he said. If the other woman had realized something, it didn't show on her face. Instead, she only pointed her thumb in the direction of Gudako's room.

“Alright, I think I've finally gotten it,” she grumbled. “Leave, before I really bash your face in.”

Anything else Mordred grumbled about was drowned out by her stomping. Bedivere gave a relieved sigh before turning to Gudako's room, where she was currently staying for a while. After this week, she would be returning to her normal duties. In Bedivere's mind, he didn't want to interfere with her rest, but there was no better time than now.

Two knocks on her room already elicited the sound of something heavy falling to the floor with a thump. He didn't speak for fear of scaring her again. Instead, he waited there as his Master opened the door with a hopeful smile. Her expression immediately became dejected, closing the door on his face once more.

Bedivere held his hand out, stopping her movements. “Please,” he started. “We haven't talked in a while, and I'm concerned about your well-being. If it pleases you, I can stay outside.”

The Servant watched as his Master chewed on her lower lip. She looked down on the ground, avoiding his steady gaze. “About that concern of yours... is it of a Servant's concern for their master, or more like a friend's worry for one?”

It would be a lie if he said he wasn't taken aback, or at least a little confused. Bedivere frowned. “I.. pardon?”

“It's fine, don't answer that,” Gudako replied. Her words sounded too dull for someone like her. Whatever she was hiding, Bedivere didn't want to pry from her. A mistake was made on his part, though, and he wanted to correct that. His Master leaned or the doorway, gently taking Bedivere's hand off the door. “I'm okay, if that's what you were looking for. Circuits are a little fried.”

“Master, I apologise for such a blunt question, but have I done something wrong?” he asked, but he let his arm fall from the door. She was free to close the door on him any minute now. Instead, the doorway was still wide open, and Gudako had gone back to her nervous habit of chewing her lips.

“I didn't think I'd have a conversation like this with you, but I don't want it to be where anyone can eavesdrop,” she said, carefully opening the door to let Bedivere pass. He gave her a grateful nod before letting himself in. Gudako locked the door behind them, taking her time. “What makes you think you've done something wrong?”

“This might sound too inappropriate, but like I have said a while ago, we haven't talked for some time. Is something the matter?” Bedivere asked. He was starting to question himself if her avoidance was just a figment of his imagination, or if he was simply being too needy. Without waiting for an answer, he decided to bite the bullet. “If this was about the kiss, it does not need any discussion. It was a mistake on my side. If only I had been—“

“Bedivere, stop,” she said. Bedivere went quiet, bowing his head in repentance. His eyes didn't meet hers, but he could still feel her presence. The white tiles of her room were his only companions as he listened to her. “It's my fault as a Master. Don't blame yourself, please. The kiss must've been uncomfortable, too. I'm sorry. It was the only way I could think of that didn't require as much mana.”

The kiss wasn't uncomfortable. It would've felt nice if they weren't in that situation, or if they weren't a Master and a Servant. He kept his head bowed as he spoke. “I am not the judge of your actions, Master. I am only a Servant who has done nothing of significance. However we look at it, we are still Master and Servant. Such intimate actions should be reserved for lovers.”

“I don't see you as just a Servant,” Gudako told him. He couldn't stop himself from looking up at her, confusion present in his eyes. She fidgeted in her position, playing with her hands. “You're a very dear friend to me, Bedivere. That's why I wanted you to forget what happened if it meant not being friends anymore. If I left you alone, you wouldn't remember.”

“That... isn't very possible, Master,” he said. There was a deeper meaning to her actions, but he didn't know if he could uncover that now. He settled on focusing on her words. “I'm terribly sorry, Master. However bad a moment may be, I could—or would—not forget it. However, is it truly acceptable for us to be friends?”

“Why not? We aren't conventional Masters and Servants anyway,” she said, giving him a small smile. “We don't know how long this Grand Order will drag out. Even with just one more Singularity left, we're still unsure of the future. If you ever find yourself thinking you can't be friends with me, just tell me, okay? I'll remind you that everyone here's a friend of mine.”

He wondered if the kiss, the shy blushes, and the occasional stutter were all part of being a friend. A Master like her shouldn't be holding that kind of affection for a Servant like him, but a part of her words rang true. This wasn't a real Holy Grail War, and everyone was going to stay here for a while. As he served his King and his Master, he thought of times when he thought he felt lonely.

Perhaps Gudako felt the same way as well. She spent most of her time with Servants, and she had managed to befriend all of them. As professional as they were, they were still bound by time and the Grand Order. Bedivere nodded as he accepted her words, returning a smile of his own.

“I see. Even though we are different, you show signs of perseverance. And even though I serve my King, I shall truly devote my sword to you, my Master,” he said, bowing.

This conversation was far from done, but they had finally talked after two weeks. To him, it was an accomplishment. Gudako's pleased face could tell him that she felt the same as well.

62 notes · View notes

swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

Text

The Once & Future Queen Pt.6

The Enchanted Forest. Past. The Refuge of the Fairies. (Tinker Bell arrives back home and carefully approaches a green blossom. The blossom opens and reveals the Blue Fairy inside.) Blue Fairy: “Good evening, Green.” Tinker Bell: “Hey Blue. You look amazing. Did you do something to your—” Blue Fairy: (Interrupting:) “You're late. You’ve already broken every rule in the book. Curfew. Dust discipline. You got big for no reason.” Tinker Bell: “Listen. I have news. Amazing news. I was helping someone. A queen in the Enchanted Forest. Regina.” Blue Fairy: “You’re the one responsible for the parade?” Tinker Bell: (Smiles:) “Yeah, that was me.” Blue Fairy: “Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve risked everything for a... a chance to show off!” Tinker Bell: “I wasn’t showing off. I was practicing my skills. Something you’re always telling us to do.” Blue Fairy: (Ignoring this:) “Do you know who she is? Her mother was Cora. The one who ripped out hearts. Her teacher is the Dark One.” Tinker Bell: “So?” Blue Fairy: “So consider yourself lucky you’re still alive. (Sighs:) Green, this is not a woman you can help. She is surrounded by darkness.” Tinker Bell: “Sounds to me like she’s exactly someone who could use help. Maybe if you let me have some Pixie dust.” Blue Fairy: “Not a chance. You fly away from this one, Green.” Tinker Bell: “My name isn’t Green. It's Tinker Bell. And I can’t believe you want me to ignore someone who needs help. It’s not very Fairy-like.” Blue Fairy: (Angry:) “I will be the judge of what is Fairy-like.” Tinker Bell: “But I-” Blue Fairy: “No discussion. Until further notice you are to remain here and continue your training under my direct supervision. Understood?” Tinker Bell: “Yes, Blue.” (The Blue Fairy exits. After a moment, Tinker Bell sneaks a look around, making sure no one can see her, and flies off again.)

Enchanted Forest. Regina & Emma's Hideaway. (Bathed in moonlight, two bodies move together as one.) Regina: (Rolling onto her side, sighs contentedly, stares up at the stars:) "I can see." Emma: (Leaning on her elbow, looking down at her:) "That was-" Regina: "Magical." Emma: "Yeah... and a little unexpected." Regina: "Mm I know. (Looks up at her:) I never thought I would feel this way again. I know what love is, now. It’s life. Everything is united by love alone." Emma: (Chuckles:) "Someone is really enjoying their afterglow." Regina: (Laughs:) "Is that what you call it?" Emma: "Yeah. You're glowing all right." Regina: (Smiling brightly:) "I feel as though I can breathe again." Emma: "You certainly took my breath away a few times there." Regina: "I'm serious. (Sighs:) I never thought my first time would be like this." Emma: "Mmm. Wait, what? Your first time?" Regina: (Nods:) "I told you, the King and I don't have that sort of relationship." Emma: "Well, yeah, but what about Dan-" (Catches herself.) Regina: "What?" Emma: (Thinking fast:) "I mean... Damn y'all, that's a huge responsibility." Regina: (Chuckles:) "Well, I'd say you were more than equal to the task." Emma: "Why didn't you tell me?" Regina: (Shrugs:) "I didn't know what was going to happen when I came here tonight. All I knew is that I needed you to know just how much you mean to me." Emma: "I...don't know what to say." Regina: "Then kiss me, please? (Emma complies and they kiss passionately beneath the stars, each woman unable to satiate their hunger for each other. Breathlessly:) This is how I saw my life. Laying under the stars with the person I love, living only for each other. (Cupping Emma's face in her hands:) Why can't it always be like this?" Emma: "It will, I promise." Regina: "How? (Slowly removes her hands:) Soon the King will return and I will be forced back to my life of loneliness, married to a man who barely acknowledges my existence." Emma: "Well, since you're intent on feeling sorry for yourself, you should know that I'm also married." Regina: "You are?" (Sits up, pulling the blankets over herself a little tighter.) Emma: "Yeah, is that a problem, Your Majesty?" Regina: (Considers:) "Well... no I suppose not." Emma: "I love them with all of my heart and I know I'm putting the life I have with them in jeopardy." Regina: "But?" Emma: "But... I wouldn't have missed this night for the world. I will remember you, like this, forever." Regina: (Purses her lips and relents:) "I shouldn't be jealous, but I can't help it. Knowing that you can't be mine." Emma: "Well, maybe we can... maybe we can be sorta... (Emma searches for the right wording, then smiles and realises what she's about to say before she says it:) Marrifriends?" Regina: (Scoffs:) "Marrifriends? What is that?" Emma: "That's you and me. Friends... who are married... who enjoy each other's company." Regina: "Intimately." Emma: (Smiles:) "Exactly." Regina: (Considers this:) "I like the sound of that." Emma: "Mm. (Kisses her:) Me too." (Wrapping her arms around Emma, Regina pulls the blonde woman towards her as she lays back, ready to enjoy the benefits of their 'friendship' once more.) Elsewhere. (Robin Hood and his Merry Men sit around the fire when Mulan enters their campsite with Aladdin. Robin Hood stands up to approach them.) Robin Hood: (Shaking her hand:) “Mulan.” Mulan: “Robin Hood, this is Aladdin, a friend.” Robin Hood: (Shakes his hand:) “Pleased to meet you, Aladdin.” Aladdin: “Likewise.” Robin Hood: “We weren’t expecting you tonight.” Mulan: “Well, it’s a little distracting back at my camp, so I thought I might as well do something useful. Plus, Aladdin is quite the thief himself. Thought I’d bring him along to help teach your men a thing or two, in between sparring sessions.”

Robin Hood: “Very well. (To his men:) Are you ready to get your arses kicked?” (The Merry Men grumble.) Aladdin: “Perhaps after dinner? I’m starving.” Robin Hood: (Smiles:) “Of course.” Crumbling Fortress. Present. Continued. (Will lies limply against the fire pit. Robin Hood tends to him.) Guinevere: “We have to get him back to a healer.” Sir Leon: “And abandon the quest?” Guinevere: “He saved my life, I won’t let him die.” Sir Leon: “Your Majesty, if we don’t get to the Isle of the Blessed, hundreds more will perish.” (Guinevere looks back at Will.) Robin Hood: “Let me take him.” Guinevere: “Carrying a wounded man alone, it will take you two or three days to reach Camelot.” Lancelot: (To Robin:) “Not if you go through the Valley of the Fallen Kings.” Robin Hood: (Nods. To Guinevere:) “You cannot give up on the quest.” Sir Leon: “Your Majesty, he’s right.” (Guinevere nods. Sir Bedivere carries the paralysed Will to his horse. Robin ties Will to the horse.) Robin Hood: (To Will:) “This is my fault and I’m sorry.” Will: “At least this makes us even.” Robin Hood: (To the group:) “We need to leave.” (Guinevere squeezes Will’s shoulder and sends him off with Robin Hood.) Valley of the Fallen Kings. Night. (Robin carries Will to a stream in the woods; he lays him next to it and covers Will with his cloak. Robin takes off his gloves to gather water from the stream and notices something about the water.) Villia: “Robin. Robin Hood. (Drops of water rise up from the stream:) Robin. (A woman’s face appears in the drop of water:) We bear you no harm. We wish only to help.” Robin Hood: “What are you?” Villia: “We are Villia, spirits of the brooks and streams. The tear in the veil has upset the balance of the world. Good spirits as well as bad roam freely. But this perilous state cannot continue for long.” Robin Hood: “Guinevere and Lancelot are riding to the Isle of the Blessed. They intend to heal the veil.” Villia: “They will need help.” Robin Hood: “My friend is sick. I need to get him to a healer.” Villia: “Do not worry. Even now, my sisters begin to heal him. (Robin looks at Will, he is glowing all over. Robin smiles:) You are tired. You must rest.” Robin Hood: “I need to find shelter.” Villia: “You are safe here.” Robin Hood: “The Dorocha.” Villia: “We will stay with you and protect you through the night.” (Robin smiles in awe as the water drops around him become tiny lights.) Camelot. Council Chamber. Night. (Ruby opens the chamber doors while Agravaine sits with the councilmen.) Agravaine: “Ruby. Have you come to join us?” Ruby: “Why have you closed the city gates?” Agravaine: “We have limited resources, Ruby. As much as I would like to, we simply cannot feed and water the entire kingdom.” Ruby: “Surely your people have a right to be protected.” Agravaine: “I would be putting Camelot in danger. Starvation, disease. The gates will remain shut until we are free of the evil that plagues us. (Seeing no alternative, Ruby turns to leave:) Now, gentlemen, where were we?”

Regina: (Grabbing Ruby’s hand and striding into the chamber:) “Hold it. (The councilmen stare at her:) May I be granted permission to address the court?” Agravaine: “Regina. of course.” (Agravaine makes an inviting gesture and Regina steps up to the table.) Regina: “Any Queen will tell you that every citizen is important. A true leader would never stand by and let them suffer.” Agravaine: “I feel the pain as much as you, but we don’t have a choice. If we keep letting people in, our food will run out within days.” Ruby: “You are wrong.” (The councilmen stare at Ruby.) Agravaine: “Perhaps you would enlighten me.” Ruby: “Those outside the gates are landowners, farmers. For days the refugees have been bartering their wares with the townsfolk in return for the safety of their hearths. They bring with them far more than they take.” Agravaine: “But how long before these wares run out?” Regina: “Three days ago, Queen Guinevere embarked on a quest to rid us of these creatures. At worst, we have another three before she reaches her goal. Or do you think she will fail?” Agravaine: “Of course not.” Geoffrey of Monmouth: “Sire, she’s right.” Agravaine: “Very well. Reopen the gates.” (Regina nods and leaves the room with Ruby following her. Agravaine smiles, then broods.) Enchanted Forest. Past. Palace. (Returning to her chambers, Regina closes the door to her room and sighs in relief. Lost in the memories of her night spent with Emma, Regina doesn't notice the presence in her room.) Rumplestiltskin: "Have you had a good night, Dearie?" Regina: (Jumps:) "Oh! You son of a bitch." Rumplestiltskin: "You may be right, I never knew my mother personally." Regina: "What do you want?" Rumplestiltskin: "Want? My desires as always are immaterial. I'm here for your next lesson. You remember those don't you? The lessons in which I teach you all you need to know so that ultimately you can achieve everything that you want." Regina: (Scoffs:) "Those days are over. What I desire you can't give me." Rumplestiltskin: "Is that so?" Regina: "Since you've been away, my outlook on life has changed." Rumplestiltskin: "Indeed. So are we all about raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens now? I told you, dearie, once the Darkness has had a taste of you-" Regina: "The Darkness can bite me for all I care. Tinker Bell showed me that love was still out there for me. It may not have been the way she intended, but she was right." Rumplestiltskin: "Love? You're throwing away your chance at revenge... for love? (Giggles:) Don't be so daft, girl." Regina: "Laugh all you want. I know what I feel in my heart and it's stronger than anything you could ever hope to teach me." Rumplestiltskin: "I see... so you snuck out of the castle and found yourself a toyboy at the local tavern, is that it? It's an infatuation, dearie. It'll pass. Your chance at love died with Daniel, the moment Snow White let your secret escape her lips." (Pain washes over Regina's features momentarily, making Rumplestiltskin believe his words have had the desired effect.) Regina: (Raising her chin:) "You're trying to provoke me. You need me to cling to my grief, to channel it into anger and darkness so that I can be your little plaything. Well I've found something else to live for and I'm not listening to you anymore. See yourself out, dearie." (Rumplestiltskin glowers at her before leaving in a cloud of smoke.)

Valley of the Fallen Kings. Present. Morning. (Robin wakes to find Will gone.) Robin Hood: (Sits up:) “Will. Will?!” Will: “Shh! (Will’s standing in the stream with a stick and a couple of fish on a string. Robin watches Will spearing the water with the stick. Will stops and holds up the fish:) Breakfast.” Robin Hood: “Will, what…? Why are you…?” Will: “What?” Robin Hood: “You’re meant to be…dying.” Will: “Sorry. Here.” (Will hands him the spearing stick.) Robin Hood: “What’s that for?” Will: “You look like you’re going to fall over.” (Robin swings the stick at Will. Will ducks.) Robin Hood: “Come on. We need to catch up with the others.” (Robin starts walking toward the horses.) Will: “Er, no. We’re going back home.” Robin Hood: “You might be.” Will: “Robin.” Robin Hood: “Say hello to Alice for me!” Will: “Robin! (Robin stops and turns around:) I didn’t save your life just so you could go and risk it again. They can finish this without us.” Robin Hood: (Places his hand on Will’s shoulder:) “You and I are square now, Will. I have to do this.” Anastasia: (Appearing behind him:) "Will! Thank goodness I found you." Will: (Turns to face her:) "Ana, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" Anastasia: "I don't have time to explain, but you need to come with me, right now!" Will: "What do you mean you don't have time? Is it Tiana? Alice? What’s happened?" Anastasia: "Please, we need to go!" Will: "All right. (Turns back to Robin to see that he's already riding off on his horse. Sighs, softly:) Goodbye, mate. (Looks back to Anastasia:) Come on, let's go." Morgana’s Hovel. (Agravaine rides through the woods. Morgana sits in a chair by the fire.) Agravaine: “My lady?” (Agravaine enters.) Morgana: “What news of the mighty Camelot?” Agravaine: “As we planned. (Removing his gloves:) The city’s falling to rack and ruin.” Morgana: “And Lancelot?” Agravaine: (Warms his hands by the fire:) “Last we heard, he’d made it past Aelbeth.” Morgana: “Will we never be rid of him?” Agravaine: “Patience, my lady. Even if he makes it to the Isle, the outcome will still be the same.” Morgana: “Then what brings you here so early? (Morgana watches Agravaine:) Something’s wrong.” Agravaine: “A minor irritant. (Moves to stand behind Morgana’s chair:) Regina. She takes it upon herself to speak out against me.” Morgana: “She’s dangerous.” Agravaine: “Well, she’s not a threat to Camelot’s throne.”

Morgana: “No, just a threat on a much grander scale. (Morgana stands up, provoked:) It was she who forestalled me from aiding my sister in our plans to change the past. She and that wife of hers are beloved across all the realms. Their combined powers produce the most powerful magic the world has ever known.” Agravaine: “But they are currently separated. Surely the time is right to deal with Regina while we have the chance?” Morgana: (Smiles:) “I couldn’t agree more. We must make sure she never sees another dawn.” Enchanted Forest. Past. (Rumplestiltskin is in a clearing in the forest.) Rumplestiltskin: "Reul Ghorm! Show yourself! (The Blue Fairy flutters into view:) It appears you've been interfering in my business." Blue Fairy: "I've done no such thing." Rumplestiltskin: "That's a lie! Maybe not personally, but one of your minions has been sticking their nose where it doesn't belong." Blue Fairy: "Tinker Bell." Rumplestiltskin: "Yes. She's managed to derail my plans considerably." Blue Fairy: "Well if that's true then perhaps she deserves a promotion." Rumplestiltskin: "Oh you'd like that wouldn't you? First you steal my son, then you wreck my best chance at reuniting with him." Blue Fairy: "Your son is lost to you, Dark One, let him go." Rumplestiltskin: "Never! You forget since we last met, I now have the power of future sight. I can see what lies ahead for all of us." Blue Fairy: (Scoffs:) "If your Dark Curse is enacted it means pain and misery, no future sight is needed for that." Rumplestiltskin: "Wrong again! Yes, to begin with, there may be suffering. But in the end, everyone will get exactly what they desire." Blue Fairy: "You and your student Regina you mean." Rumplestiltskin: "No! Everyone! The clouds will part, the Darkness will dissipate and all the Realms of Story will be united. Peace within our lifetime. Isn't that what you Fairies are all about?" Blue Fairy: "I can't trust you. Dark One lies, Dark One tricks. I won't take that chance." Rumplestiltskin: "Oh you're wrong, dearie. You can and you must. I'm not asking for much. Just disown your troublesome little Tinker, and I'll do the rest." The Dragon’s Lair. Present. (Agravaine stands at the bar with a drink when Regina enters from the back room.) Regina: "Agravaine. This is most unexpected. Is there something you need?" Agravaine: “Yes, there is something I would like to discuss. I wish to apologize. Yesterday I feel I let the Queen down. I am grateful that you spoke out.” Regina: “Your apology is accepted.” (Agravaine smiles.) Agravaine: “Regina, if you would permit, I would be grateful to seek your advice. You understand the people and I know that you will be honest with me. (Regina smiles at the truth of this statement:) It’s not appropriate to talk now. Perhaps… this evening. You could come to my chambers. (Regina starts to protest:) Please, Regina, these are dark times. I’m going to need help if I’m to guide Camelot through them.” Regina: “Very well.” (Agravaine smiles.) Agravaine: “Thank you.” (Regina smiles back and Agravaine makes his exit.)

Tavern. Past. Emma's Room. (Tiger Lily joins Emma in her room.) Tiger Lily: "What were you thinking? Now that Regina knows you... intimately... here in the past, how can we possibly expect the future, whenever we get back to it, to be the same?" Emma: "I don't know! It's not like it was planned." Tiger Lily: "Emma, as much as it pains me to say it, we need Regina to cast the Dark Curse. Otherwise everything we know and cherish about our world back home will be lost." Emma: "Don't you think I get that? Why do you think I wanted to stay as far away from Regina as possible?" Tiger Lily: "Because you have no self control? Because sleeping with the teenage version of your wife was too much to resist?" Emma: "That's... unfair." Tiger Lily: "But accurate." (Emma looks at Tiger Lily and notices the beginnings of a smile on her lips.) Emma: "A little too accurate, yeah. (They share a laugh that breaks the tension:) Oh God, there has to be some way to make things right though?" Tiger Lily: (Nods:) "I think so. Unfortunately it will still need to involve Snow White." Emma: "Yeah well, if anyone could inspire Regina to cast the Dark Curse, it was always going to be my Mom." The Enchanted Forest. (Tinker Bell flies alone through the sky when she is caught by the Blue Fairy.) Blue Fairy: “Stop! I told you to stay home.” Tinker Bell: “I know. I thought I’d stretch my wings a little after our talk. Conflict gets me a little wound up. I just wanted to prove to you that I was a good fairy.” Blue Fairy: “You could have proven that by being a good fairy, by listening to me.” Tinker Bell: “I was following my instincts.” Blue Fairy: “Which are so far from being correct. (Sighs:) This can’t be forgiven.” Tinker Bell: “Wait. Wait. Everyone deserves a second chance. We always tell people that.” Blue Fairy: “But, Tinker Bell, this was your second chance.” Tinker Bell: “Please. I promise. I’m so sorry.” Blue Fairy: “You betrayed my trust.” Tinker Bell: “I can regain it. Give me a chance.” Blue Fairy: “You can’t. For one simple, tragic reason: I no longer believe in you.” (Tinker Bell’s wings disappear and she falls helplessly to the ground. The Blue Fairy flies away.)

Camelot. Present. Evening. (Morgana magically opens a gate outside Camelot and carries a torch while she climbs the stairs into the city.) Guard 1: (Distant:) “Get to the other side.” Guard 2: (Distant:) “Yes, sir.” (Morgana continues down a dark corridor.) Guard 3: (Stepping out from a side chamber:) “Halt.” (Morgana uses her magic to throw the guard against the wall without speaking or turning around.) Agravaine’s Chambers. (Regina sits at the table while Agravaine pours her a glass of wine.) Agravaine: “But do the people feel safe? (Regina remains silent:) You can speak honestly.” Regina: “No, of course they don’t.” Agravaine: “Go on.” Regina: “They’re frightened. Night after night, they’ve seen their friends, their parents, their children all snatched cruelly from them and they don’t know who will be next.” Agravaine: “What can I do to reassure them?” Regina: “Show courage. Shutting the gates last night told them you were as terrified as they were. It’s like a horse and its rider. If the people sense your fear, they will not trust you.” Agravaine: “I am grateful for your advice. (Agravaine stands behind her and places his hands on her chair back:) You have a wise head on your shoulders, Regina. (Agravaine leans forward and rests his arms on the back of her chair and Regina starts getting creeped out. Agravaine reaches his fingers slightly forward as if to touch her, then thinks better of it and takes his arms off the chair back:) I’ve kept you long enough.” Regina: (Stands:) “And I must get back to my family.” Agravaine: “Of course. (Agravaine precedes her to the door and opens it for her:) I’ll have my guards walk you safely home.” (The guards appear outside the door.) Regina: “Thank you.” Streets of Camelot. (The guards carry torches as they escort Regina. Morgana watches them from the battlements above.) Morgana: “Hleap on baec.” (Morgana raises her arm and throws Regina and the guards backwards. Morgana smirks at her unconscious victims.)

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

9 notes · View notes

green-spear-of-causality · 4 years

Text

Finally got around to that one ask -

@whyme-why-not, as I'm pretty sure you're the one who asked this months ago, I hope you enjoy this! I'm sorry it took so long to get out, as well; getting Gawain's and Lancelot's characters down is a struggle for me, and with what's happening in NY...I've been all over the place. I don't even think I portrayed them right...

98. "Why can't you just believe me?" "Because you lied about it before."

----

Lancelot was an honorable man.

He was loyal, he was calming, he was trustworthy; if any Knight of the Round Table was asked which one of them was the most faithful to their King, their answers are one and the same: Lancelot.

Lancelot was honorable, loyal, calming, trustworthy...and a liar.

Gawain grumbled as he shifted, dull armored boots out of place on the cheerful checker-patterned blanket. The wind blew a gentle breeze throughout the pasture, the shade of the tree he waited under cooling him off from the heat of the sun. The Knights of the Round Table were supposed to have an outing to improve their teamwork as well as to boost their morale; their Master has said on multiple occasions that they need to "take a break", so to speak, so Arthur and Arturia went ahead and arranged a picnic in France, of all places. Jeanne was all too happy to point out a spot for them, as well.

Gawain looked at the watch his Master gave him, which rested on the ground next to him. 2:47. He's more than a little late...

What could have happened to Lancelot? They were supposed to have a picnic with the other Knights of the Round, and they -

His eyes widened. ...Wait. He was the only one here; if anything, he should be wondering if something happened to his King.

So why...?

Why do I prioritize Lancelot?

It must be because they were close friends. Yes, that has to be it. Gawain nodded to himself. It was the only thing that made sense. It was the only thing that was allowed to make sense.

Footsteps made his head turn. "Ah, there you are - "

The words died in his throat. Lancelot approached him wearing not his armor, but clothes their Master most likely picked out for him. His purple jacket blended nicely with his hair, the black shirt underneath giving him more of a subtle vibe. A pack was slung over one of his shoulders, and if Gawain didn't know better he'd think that Lancelot was an ordinary citizen who merely got lost.

Lancelot sat down next to him on the blanket, looking at anything except Gawain. "Sorry for the delay. Master insisted that I wear something more..."appropriate" for this outing."

Gawain looked at his own attire, feeling a bit out of place. He wore his battle armor, as the only other clothes he had were his nightwear. He glanced back up; why wouldn't Lancelot look at him? Was it because of his armor?

Gawain leaned back against the bark of the tree, the picnic basket beside him waiting to be opened. "Where are the others?"

There. Even though it was brief, Lancelot did indeed look his way before finding the rolling grass interesting. Relief made itself known in Gawain's chest, although he didn't have the faintest clue as to why.

It soon gave way to concern, however, when Lancelot mumbled "They're not coming."

Gawain stood up. "Did something happen? Are they in danger? Lancelot, they might require our assistance - "

Lancelot's hand reached out to grab his. The touch made Gawain's sentence trail off, eyes widening as he cast a curious gaze at Lancelot.

Lancelot's face was on fire, and he wasn't looking at Gawain anymore. It made his chest ache, for some reason. "They...cancelled...last minute."

Gawain's eyes narrowed, stepping back from Lancelot's grip on his hand. "Do you take me for a fool, Lancelot?"

Lancelot looked taken aback. "...What?"

"Something's wrong." He left the comfort of their picnic site, heading back to the Rayshift Site.

Footsteps from behind alerted him to Lancelot's prescence. "Gawain - "

"I'm sorry, Lancelot," Gawain's concern was rapidly evolving into frustration each time Lancelot opened his mouth, "but our picnic with the others will have to be put on hold."

Why was Lancelot hiding something? The man hasn't lied - ...He has. For the past two months, the Knights have planned for large outings only for the majority of them to not even show up. Gawain could understand if the Kings were too preoccupied with other matters, but he expected to see at least Bedivere.

And, everytime, it was only Lancelot who showed up. Lancelot, the honorable, trustworthy, loyal, painfully suspicious man who evaded Gawain's inquiries.

One of Gawain's mottos is that Honesty is the Best Policy. So, to be lied to over and over and over again...

I'm tired of it all.

Hands clamped down on his shoulders and turned the blonde around. "Gawain!"

Gawain made to retort, but the look of desperation on Lancelot's face stopped him. Lancelot looked ready to say something he would rather keep under wraps; he was...scared.

What would frighten Lancelot this badly?

"Just - listen. Please, believe me; they called it off. They're...attending to other matters at hand."

Gawain stared. "...I will contact Master and see if I can assist - "

"They're fine!" Lancelot shouted hastily. Gawain paused, searching his face for an answer he wasn't sure he'd find.

Lancelot deflated. Gawain thought that in this moment, he looked horribly out of place in the modern clothes Master provides for him.

For some reason, that made him feel a pang of sadness.

Lancelot's voice was barely above a whisper. "Why can't you just believe me?"

Gawain's expression softened into something akin to regret. He wanted to; he wanted to believe in one of his closest friends, and yet... "Because you lied about it before."

Lancelot drew back, as if stricken. Gawain watched as he seemed to steel himself, the other taking a step forward.

Lancelot's hand grasped Gawain's once more, and Gawain marvelled at the warmth it emanated. He regained his wits once Lancelot started walking, back to the picnic site.

"Lancelot - "

"They cancelled because they wanted us to enjoy ourselves." Gawain could only see Lancelot's back, but he heard the defeat in his voice. His eyes widened; was he...finally getting the truth?

Lancelot continued. "The Kings have both mentioned how we in particular go above and beyond when on the battlefield. They merely wanted us to relax, without feeling the burden of catering to them."

Gawain felt rather than saw Lancelot let go of his hand, crouching to unpack the food stored within the basket. He held up a ham and cheese sandwich for Gawain to take, a shy, awkward smile on his face.

"I know this won't do much as an apology, nor will it make up for the fact that I kept it from you,but I do hope that we get to enjoy this day together."

Gawain hesitated. Did his Kings really say that? He was a Servant; he didn't need to take breaks.

But... Lancelot's hopeful expression made his face warm. He glanced down at his gauntlets, the feeling of being out of place striking him once more.

He smiled, grabbing the offering. "It would be my honor, Lancelot."

Lancelot's expression lit up. Gawain had to turn away himself, because his face felt reminiscent to a volcano at this moment. This...has never happened before. I wonder if Servants can get sick?

Articles of clothing were then placed into his hands. Gawain looked up, surprised to see Lancelot standing in front of him. When did he get so close without his knowledge? My senses seem to be lacking today...and it's only ever with Lancelot. I must consult Master or Merlin about this, and see if it will be a hindrance in future battles. "Master also brought these along for you to change into."

"I will send them my regards afterwards." Gawain gave Lancelot a grateful smile as he moved behind the tree to change. Once he was finished, he placed the armor onto the grass before sitting next to Lancelot.

As they ate and talked and laughed, Gawain found that he felt lighter than ever before. He was glad the others didn't show up, after all; there was something about Lancelot that was...intriguing, to him.

Lancelot may have been a liar...

But Gawain wouldn't change him for the world.

----

Mordred looked through the binoculars Tristan provided him with, giving a thumbs up to the other Knights of the Round. "We're all good!"

The others, Arturia and Arthur in particular, gave a collective sigh of relief. When Lancelot had approached them two months ago about his "symptoms" concerning Gawain, they tried everything in their power to make this couple become a reality.

They had seen enough bloodshed; this small piece of happiness was well-deserved.

Merlin smiled, which carried every bit of amusement and mystery as it usually did. "That was close...If Gawain set off, we wouldn't have an alibi."

Bedivere frowned. "I know how Gawain can be. Will he even realize Lancelot's advances?"

Mordred jumped down next to them, laughing lightly. "I know what you mean; for someone as powerful as him, he sure can be thick-headed!'

Merlin's smile grew wider. "Worry not, Knights of the Round Table; we will start to see the fruits of our labor very soon."

And thus, the hidden group proceeded to quietly Rayshift back to Chaldea.

26 notes · View notes

spidersmiceandeverythingnice · 4 years

Note

What if Fionn was the Grand Saber

the justice we deserve... I literally have no idea what that would look like in canon but boy oh boy do I have IDEAS and COOL IMAGERY that I want to see regarding this

(read more because it turned out longer than expected WHOOPS lol)

Picture the final stage of the Camelot Lostbelt - the reverse side of Avalon, if you will. A crumbling tower surrounded by black flowers, each one draining mana from the air. Sherlock Holmes is long gone. Da Vinci and the rest of their crew, from the Shadow Border to the Wandering Sea, is far, far, far away. Beryl’s Assassin Servant has killed King Arthur, preventing them from destroying Beryl with a blast from Rhongominyad. Beryl has possession of Excalibur, the Holy Sword of the Planet, and intends to destroy it - the last remnants of the guardians who once protected this cursed land - and unleash his Lostbelt until it covers the world. The Phantasmal Tree is in full bloom, raining stardust. There will be no more gods, or faeries, and Galahad’s protection is as far away as it ever was.

Ritsuka’s power is fading, too. When they first came to Chaldea, they were considered a biological phenomenon - a human with no magic circuits that somehow produced enough mana to power a small city - and they’ve only gotten stronger with time. But it’s not enough. Not against this endless sea of curses, not against the embodiment of wickedness itself.

One by one, the Servants who assisted the remnants of Chaldea begin to fade away. Cu Chulainn, Queen Medb, Fergus and even Scathatch, the True Scathatch of Pan-Human History, who has finally met her end against an opponent she did not train, who she did not even anticipate. It has been a long and bitter war. The knights of the Round Table - first Lancelot, then Tristan, and brave Gareth, and Gawain, and Mordred, though the Traitorous Prince manages to send one last blast of signature red lightning through the skies. It does not reach it’s target, and Mordred slumps before disappearing. Finally, there was Sir Bedivere, winking out like a comet passing over the horizon.

Even if this place hadn’t been so evil, even if Assassin wasn’t so challenging as an opponent, it wouldn’t have mattered. Ritsuka can no longer support the Servants, can no longer cause them to manifest. It is hard to tell if they are dying, or if the flowers have swallowed their very Spiritual Origins, feeding the Phantasmal Tree.

Paracelsus and Jekyll are barely hanging on, trying to keep Assassin busy behind Mash’s cracked and broken barrier. The mold of Camelot is going to fall, and when it does, they will die.

There is one Servant, though, who does not stop fighting even for an instant.

The arc of Moralltach burns through the air. When it comes into contact with the black flowers, the hiss and fade away, filling the air with a burning stench. Diarmuid is nearly as fast as Assassin, and it’s clear that the enemy Servant is getting frustrated.They cannot keep Paracelsus’s spells at bay while simultaneously blocking each of Diarmuid’s attacks forever. Indeed, the dual-classing Servant has proved their greatest weapon in this Lostbelt. Closely attuned to the ancient gods and fey of this world, able to destroy any magic and even cut the threads of fate with his weapons. He even resisted the nega-genesis. Provided that he didn’t get too close to the Phantasmal Tree, Diarmuid seemed able to keep fighting indefinitely. At least, that seemed to be his intent.

Assassin must have realized it, too - and must have realized that Beryl was too busy playing around with the seals of Excalibur to be of any help - and that was why they changed tactics.

Ritsuka saw it unfold in an instant, and opened their mouth to shout a warning.

Assassin changed course. They were not heading for Jekyll, whose work with Diarmuid had given him an extra combative advantage - or for Paracelsus, who was drawing his sword and taking aim.

Instead, they went for the cracks in the Mold Camelot.

They were going to kill Mash.

She could block the blade - and destroy her barrier, leaving them vulnerable to the nega-gensis.

Or she could take the hit, and pray that she was strong enough to stand after Assassin was finished with her.

Time moves very slowly - Ritsuka feels like they are moving through molasses - and then, something happens that they didn’t expect.

Gae Dearg reappears; his Spiritual Origin flickers and shifts, contracts in response to the sudden change - Diarmuid has aimed for a killing blow while Assassin’s back was turned to him.

The red spear sinks into Assassin’s stomach, and then, it disappears -

An illusion! Ritsuka forces their legs to work, and breaks into a run.

Assassin’s blade sinks into his back, sliding cleanly between powerful shoulder blades.

At once, Gae Buidhe stabs outward, slicing a clean line down Assassin’s torso as they leap to get away from the weapon. There’s a spray of blood, and then a scream of delirious laughter, and then the enemy Servant is gone, back to their Master to get healing before they come back to finish the job.

But even though Diarmuid ua Duibhne sinks to his knees, blood streaming into the bed of black flowers beneath him, he does not immediately fade away.

Ritsuka feels a bubble of panic rise like a scream in their throat as they come up to Mash, who is in tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry -”

“No,” says Diarmuid, levelly, putting a hand to the exit wound in his chest. “I managed to get a fair number of strikes in. No matter what power source they are drawing from, it cannot last forever. Nothing can. I think we have some time now, anyway. You must hold the barrier, Mash. It’s important for what comes next.”

Mash nods, even as tears streak down her cheeks. “I will! I won’t let go no matter what!”

“Good. Master?”

He looks up, clear-eyed and expectant. Tears prickle in Ritsuka’s eyes.

“You should have given me more of a warning,” they say, choked. “I needed more time.”

Diarmuid smiles, almost sheepishly. “Well, if I’m right about this -” a wet cough; blood bubbles up from his lips and Ritsuka feels cracks spreading in their resolve. “- which I am, then it doesn’t matter what happens to me now. Everything will be fine.”

And even though everything is awful, he says this with such radiant confidence, that Ritsuka believes him.

Diarmuid holds out his hand, and Ritsuka hands him the hunting horn that they had collected from the Wild Hunt. Ritsuka comes close and helps Diarmuid stay upright, pressing their hand tight against the gaping wound, feeling the crackling energy within - Assassin’s poisonous mana - and with gritted teeth, begins running through a healing spell. Please, oh, please, let this work.

Diarmuid speaks in a language that Ritsuka does not know or recognize.

Then he lifts the horn to his lips, and -

All other sound disappears.

A single, clear note, pure as a hawk’s cry.

A breeze washes over them, and only then does Ritsuka realize how unbearably hot this flowerbed was - a greenhouse from hell - and even as the thought crosses their mind, the flowers wither and die. Mana is immediately restored to the area behind Mash’s shield, and immediately, the Earth begins to repair itself. Ritsuka feels it like a pulsing heartbeat, and thinks, Is this Avalon restoring itself? Or is it - the Counterforce?

No, that didn’t make sense. But - at the same time - they are summoning a guardian. The circumstances are extraordinary, and before it was cursed, this was indeed Avalon. So perhaps...

A hand comes down on Ritsuka’s shoulder, and they look up.

A familiar-looking man is standing there, even though there had been nothing here a second before, and there was no way for anyone to enter this place since Beryl had sealed the gateways. He is wearing a blue cape over simple, fur-lined armor. His hair is spun gold; he seems to be glowing faintly. He is at once divine, a giant, and perfectly normal, though he smells faintly of river-flowers and dark woods. His eyes are filled with fire, infinitely gentle and warm, and he carries a sword across his back that is not Excalibur - but -

“Please,” says Fionn MacCumhail. His voice is just as Ritsuka remembers, but at the same time, it seems to come from everywhere. It fills him with a sense of strength and peace, and Ritsuka thinks they might cry all over again, just from sheer relief. “May I?”

Stunned, Ritsuka steps back.

Diarmuid grumbles when Fionn takes a waterskin from his side and pours a measure into his hand.

“Took you long enough,” he says, as Fionn tips the water into his captain’s mouth.

At once, the wound on Diarmuid’s back closes, and Assassin’s poison disappears as if it had never existed. Ritsuka registers a surge of mana - that counts as a mana transfer?

Diarmuid stands, and Fionn claps him on the shoulder.

“You’ve done well to protect these two,” says Fionn. “Now, please - I know it is difficult for you to avoid showing off - but please don’t get in my way.”

Diarmuid smiles thinly, amused. “No promises, my lord.”

“Dear shieldmaiden,” says Fionn, smiling down at Mash. “You have become an exemplary warrior! I see I was right to single you out back then! I have always had a keen eye for talent. Kindly lead the way for us?”

Mash stutters. “But the barrier -”

“It is no longer necessary. I am here now.”

He spoke simply, with no room for arguments. Ritsuka looks at Mash, whose mouth is stretched thing, whose lip is raw from biting into it.

“Mash, do as he says. We’ll take our cues from you -” Ritsuka pauses, blinking at Fionn, trying to get a better read on him and his new status. (A part of Ritsuka honestly hadn’t even believed Diarmuid when he proposed this plan - could summoning a Grand Servant truly be so simple as sounding a hunting horn?) “Saber.”

Fionn smiles. “Ah yes,” he says, with a chuckle, as if just remembering an obvious fact. “I still am a Servant, even like this.” He turns to Diarmuid, who is at attention. “Call for the others, will you? It is time for the Fianna to fulfill our responsibilities. Lady Mash, when I draw my sword - drop the barrier - we shall finish the battle now, without further delays.”

Diarmuid nods, and lifts the horn to his lips.

Fionn takes the sword from his back, and the battle begins again.

12 notes · View notes

madamebaggio · 5 years

Photo

Notes: I AM SO ABSOLUTELY SORRY!

I don't have any good excuse for this. My life has been absolutely insane, I took way too many new projects (drama classes, a book to write, classes to give...) and I don't like how much it all got into the way of writing.

I would like to thank you all for the support, and the patience.

This chapter is not perfect, and you guys deserved nothing less, but I do hope you enjoy it and that after October I can be a somewhat decent poster again... I've just finished this so it's not beta-read, so I have no idea what you might find there. But let me know if there's any mistake that it's too cringy.

***

Chapter 8

Sansa couldn’t sleep. She was dead tired, she hadn’t rested that night, but she still couldn’t make herself lay down and just close her eyes.

What was she thinking, coming here like this?

When would she learn not to trust anyone who was just a bit kind to her?

Why had she thought this was a better idea? Because they’d told her Vortigern planned on killing her? Because she dreamed of a woman in her tub? Because a raven brought her here?

How many times would she act like a stupid little girl? First Cersei and Joffrey, then Vortigern… What guarantee did she have that Arthur was better?

When would she be able to live her life without fear again? She longed for the days of her childhood when she felt protected and safe all the time. Maybe she was vain and shallow, but she was loved and cared for. She could hardly remember the last time she’d felt this way.

A knock on her door made her sit straighter. “Come in.” She called.

The door opened and Bill and Bedivere walked in. They were the last people she was expecting. “My lords.” She got up. “How can I help?”

“Lady Sansa.” Bedivere nodded at her. “We have a question for you. Do you have any family left in Westeros?”

Sansa was confused. “Family?”

“Yes. Someone you might wish to see again.” Bill pressed.

His resemblance to Lord Baelish was disturbing, if she were to be honest. She’d once thought that Baelish was a friend of the family, but Shae had told her the man had bad intentions towards her. She’d also heard around the Red Keep that he wasn’t an honest man.

“You want to send me back, don’t you?”

Bedivere cleared his throat. “Not right now.” He hurried to say. “But if you have someone that might receive you. We can send someone to see if they are…”

“Still alive?” She offered.

“Yes, my lady.”

Sansa took a deep breath and tried to remember. Who could she possibly go to for protection?

“I have an aunt.” She said at last. “Lysa Arryn. She lives in the Valle, at the Eyrie. She might receive me.”

Bill nodded, satisfied by her answer. “We’ll send someone to look for her.”

“No one else, Lady Sansa?” Bedivere pressed, a frown on his face.

Father was dead. Mother was dead. Robb, Bran, Rickon, likely Arya. Jon had no reason to want to see her.

“No, there’s no one else.”

XxX

Vortigern needed to find the girl. A big part of his plan depended on her.

At this point, just finishing the tower wouldn’t be enough. Why should he settle for less power when he had something much bigger within his reach?

Sansa Stark had been a great find. Her bloodline was impeccable, the magic left in her blood much more than he’d dared to hope for.

He’d sacrifice her, because it meant saving Katia. He’d killed his wife many years before and he didn’t want to do the same to his daughter, the only piece of Elsa left. He’d sacrifice Sansa so he’d never have to choose someone he loved again.

A part of him felt sorry for the girl, but it was a minuscule part. He’d taken her from a bad place and gave her a comfortable life. She wouldn’t have lasted another year in King’s Landing.

She owed him for her freedom and comfort.

He didn’t think she’d run away on her own; she wasn’t the type. She’d learned to keep her head down and blend in to avoid suffering. Vortigern didn’t assume she was stupid like many did; he’d seen the spark of intelligence in her eyes. However, Sansa Stark lacked a spine, she wouldn’t leave the castle alone.

Someone had gotten her out. Vortigern would find out who it was, and he’d break every bone in this person’s body.

XxX

“What are you doing here?”

Arthur arched a brow in Kay’s direction, amused by her posture -hands on her hips and a glare on her pretty face. “I feel that, whatever I say, won’t be the right answer.”

Kay scoffed. “You have at least a little bit of common sense. Go talk to your princess.”

Arthur was startled for a second. “She isn’t mine, Kay.” He spoke, but he wasn’t sure who was he trying to explain that for.

Kay clearly didn’t care about what he had to say. “You stole her, so she’s yours.” She pointed out. “She’s scared and lonely, Arthur. She’s more mature than I’d thought she’d be, but she’s still just a girl far from home.”

Arthur ran his hand through his hair. “I know.”

“Do you really?” Kay insisted.

“What do you want me to do, Kay?” He demanded, frustrated at himself. “I’m not a lord, I can’t give her pretty words or whatever princesses like.”

“I know you are not that stupid.” Kay told him dryly. “She’s probably had it with pretty words and people lying to her. She doesn’t need empty promises, Arthur. That girl is scared out of her wits, but she thinks she has to hide it. She needs security.”

“I don’t think she likes me very much.” He mumbled.

Kay snorted. “When has that ever stopped you from doing whatever the hell you wanted?”

XxX

Sansa felt as if she should’ve been offended by Bedivere and Bill’s eagerness to get rid of her, but she understood it. Did it hurt her? Yes, a little, but she wasn’t surprised by it. Not enough to take offense.

They had no use for her and her mere presence was a risk for them. As long as she was there, Vortigern could get her back and use her against them all. She should be thankful they weren’t considering killing her as a more practical solution.

She wondered -not for the first time -how this was her life. She was dead tired of thinking it wasn’t fair; it wasn’t, but it changed nothing. Life was unfair and she had to deal with it.

However… When would she have some peace? Just a little, she wouldn’t be greedy, she promised. She didn’t want to be a queen, she hardly wanted to be a lady. She’d take whatever as long as she could rest.

“There you are, princess.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him. Obviously it didn’t work and he just plopped himself down next to her. “Did you rest?”

Sansa looked at him and wondered whether he knew about her conversation with his men.

“Yes.” She replied smoothly.

“Liar.” He grinned. “You look dead on your feet.”

She didn’t think he knew about it. “So charming.”

He chuckled. “That’s me, Prince Charming himself.”

She firmly ignored him, hoping he’d go away. Sansa wanted to dislike him, because he was a slap to her face; the blond prince she’d once dreamed about. He was full of life and confidence, and something told her he was -at least for now -genuinely good. She couldn’t handle him right now.

She was afraid of becoming that stupid little girl once again.

Therefore, she pulled her shawl more firmly around herself and kept her eyes on the cave’s opening, hoping he’d go away.

But at this point she already knew better, Arthur wasn’t easily ignored, because he wouldn’t allow it.

“You know what I think, princess?”

Sansa rolled her eyes again. She seemed to that an awful lot around him. “I know you’ll tell me anyway.” She said dryly.

“That’s the spirit.” He ignored her sarcasm completely. “I think you are scared.”

Sansa’s look was deadpan. “You are truly brilliant.” She wasn’t even pretending to be interested at this point.

“But you are not scared for the reasons you think you should be.” Arthur completed, once again ignoring her tone.

“What? Did you hear what you just said? Because this was the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever heard, and that’s saying something.”

Arthur grabbed her left hand. “You should be scared.” He insisted. “You are in another land, in the middle of a war you didn’t ask for. There’s a mad king who wants to sacrifice you, and this other one who won’t stop annoying you.” He gave her a small smile. “This is all scary.”

“Yes, it is.” Sansa agreed.

“But that’s not what you’re afraid of.” Arthur spoke.

Sansa tried to pull her hand away, but he held on. “You’re afraid of hoping.” He said softly. “And it’s fair. What has hope brought you so far?”

All the fight went out of her. “Pain.” She whispered into the air.

“Pain.” He echoed back, his thumb making circles on the back of her hand. “I won’t say I know what you’ve been through, or that I understand it. I also know you have no reason to trust me and that you probably think I’m an idiot…”

“Think?” She threw at him weakly.

“...but you are safe with us, Sansa Stark.” He told her firmly. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you away from him.”

Sansa looked into his eyes. For some reason she believed a part of his speech. She trusted he’d do whatever he could to keep her safe. However, Sansa hoped it never became a choice between her and the kingdom, because then she wouldn’t even be able to begrudge him for forsaking her.,

***

Notes: Let me know your feelings.

I think we all deserve a kiss next chapter.

What do you think?

Also, in case you don’t remember this work (or if it’s your first time seeing it), you can find it all here.

#madame baggio #fanfiction #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #Sansa Stark #Arthur Pendragon #king arthur #Sansa x Arthur #i wont believe in songs

22 notes · View notes

fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

An Intimate Phone Call (BedivereXReader)

“Talk to me,” you beg of him.

You called him late at night, sitting in the New York event’s nearby hotel. You couldn’t sleep. You kept hearing that laughter in your ears. You kept seeing the banner over the event arena, boasting about what was going on to all the world.

You just… You needed someone to get your mind off things.

Gilgamesh had boasted about being everything one could hope for, but you hadn’t been able to think of another.

“Master?”

“Just for a while, Bedi, please.”

You need to hear his voice. You need help right now.

“W-what would you like me to talk about?”

“Where are you?”

The man on the other end of the phone was sighing, you can hear him running a hand through his hair, trying to think. “I’m… I’m just in bed, master. Are you thinking of summoning me?”

“No.”

You’d have him get hurt. You don’t want that. He doesn’t need to be wounded.

“Tell me what you have on.”

A moment of silence came before the man’s voice turned indignant. “Are… are you wanting one of those calls?”

Yes.

The thought had been on your mind enough that you’d taken off your clothes and prepared to touch yourself. You were just waiting for that voice.

“Bedivere,” you plead.

“Master! Please! I… I don’t have experience with this!”

“You don’t need experience. Just talk to me, please.”

He sighed again. You could hear shuffling.

“You’re… You’re really strong,” he told you. E for effort, but that wouldn’t suffice.

You lean back, hand pressed to your lower body and the other holding the phone to your ear. If he needed someone to take the lead, then-

“I love how you look after the shower,” you tell him. “I love the way the water runs down your body and the way you always rest your arm against the wall. I stare at you sometimes through the curtain, watching while you look so beautiful that I want to be the water that rains down on you.”

“I am… I’m fine with you joining me.”

A note for another time, you think, pocketing that approval away.

“I wish I were there in bed with you,” you tell him. “I want to bury myself in your blankets and run my hands over your body. I keep seeing all these other half clad men and comparing them to you.”

“O-oh?”

“They can’t compare well,” you confess. “None of them would hold me like you would, Bedi. None of them would whisper sweet things in my ear and tell me that I take their breath away like you do.”

“They don’t need to tell you that.”

There we go.

“Master,” Bedivere purred to you, “if you need to hear someone tell you things like that, you need only ask. I am yours in servitude and in spirit. There’s no one that has come to mean so much to me, master. Your companionship in my bed and in my life has given new life to me. You make me feel young and foolish again.”

So close.

“Do you want to touch me?”

“M-master,” you can almost hear the way he stumbles in his thinking.

“I just want to know. I am lying here touching myself and pleasing myself with your voice.”

“MASTER!”

He’s blushing. You can almost imagine the knight covering his face with a hand, trying to compose himself.

“I’m getting closer,” you tell him. “I won’t be able to last long. I can see you so clearly in my mind’s eye. I can almost feel your hands on me, stroking me to a climax.”

“Master-“

“I want you to touch me so bad.”

“…I can’t handle this, master…” His voice is shaking. “I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know anything about pleasing people with just my voice. You seem to be an expert. I can only say that I care about you. I will do my best for you, Master.”

“More.”

“I swear to protect you whenever I am with you. I swear to show fealty to you, to show you how I care.”

“I want to kiss you,” you tell him.

“I want to kiss you too!” His voice sounds rushed now. “Just… I don’t want to do anything too much. I want to hold you in my arms and tell you that you matter to me.”

“Keep going.”

“I want to tell you every day that you are important. I want to make sure that you wake up every day to the sun shining into our room and a good morning kiss being given by me to you. I want to make sure that you start your mornings right, curled up in my arms for a moment so I can find happiness in your wellbeing.”

“I miss you, Bedi,” you purr.

“I miss you too, Master,” he confesses. “I always do when you’re away. You work so hard to protect me and everyone. You suffer so much just to see me smile. I cannot think of another who has surrendered and given so much to me, asking nothing in return.”

You’re getting there. You can feel the pressures building. Just a bit further and-

“I quite love you, Master.”

You lose it, feeling your senses lost at his confession.

“You’re swimming around in my head,” he confessed. “You’ve been on my mind all day too. I keep seeing you smiling and bringing everyone home. I keep seeing you return to run into my arms. I want to have it in real life too. Come home to me soon.”

You can’t respond. Your eyes on the ceiling. The room smells of you.

“You’re my everything, Master.”

“I plan to finish the fighting tomorrow,” you tell him. “Can you wait a little longer for me?”

“I will wait however long that it takes,” he replies. “Just smile for me when you come home.”

He hung up with that, leaving you to hold the phone to your lips and kiss it softly.

It was no substitute for your knight but…

His voice could take you far enough for now.

#drabble #drabbles #how does phone sex work

9 notes · View notes

auniverseforgotten · 10 days

Note

Ship Ask 2 Electric Boogaloo: Bedivere/Tristan mayhap? o.o

SO I'M STARTING HERE BCUS I HAVE SO MANY SALIERI SHIPS AND I NEED TO GO TO BED SOON

Also a note for clarity: I know what fgo says about the Bedivere in Chaldea not being the one in Camelot and servants not remembering things but you're in MY TOWN and my town is ANGST TOWN so servants remember EVERYTHING [except when it's more angsty for them to forget <3] and this Bedivere is the one from Camelot <3

read more because LONK

who’s the cuddler:

We start with a hard one lmao, so I think both could be depending on the situation? Overall I do think Bedivere would Want cuddles more but...we all know how Bedivere is with self loathing and self worth, so I don't think he would manage to ask for them. Because of this Tristan would Look like the more physically touchy one, because he sees him and reads what he needs via body language. And there is NO WAY Bedivere isn't touch starved so he has noooooo idea what to do with affection when it's given, especially with all his aforementioned self loathing.

BUT ALSO I feel like Bedi's love language for others is touch [maaayeb gift giving] so when he does manage to convince himself it's okay to touch then he just. Never stops. They come off as very lovey dovey [sometimes to a codependent degree depending on the observer] because they are ALWAYS holding hands but it's because Bedivere Needs touch and closeness to ground him.

who makes the bed:

Bedivere, he's a very organized person imo who likes his spaces neat and tidy. I don't necessarily think of Tristan as messy, but like he would care less so long as everything is functional?

who wakes up first:

Situational, but usually Bedivere. If either of them have really bad nightmares from...any number of traumatizing events in their lives, they both tend to stay awake for the rest of the night.

But also Bedivere has a very bad habit of pushing himself as far as possible for as long as possible, and he will just. Not sleep also. Once he and Tristan get together [AND BOY DOES IT TAKE FOREVER], it's less frequent if only because Tristan will make himself stay up too and Bedivere panics and worries over his health.

who has the weird taste in music:

I'm mixed because it would be Hilarious if Bedi's music taste was as eclectic as his palate, but that was born out of a need to survive more than anything else. And I mean...music is Tristan's whole THING.

So definitely Tristan, and Bedivere will return to their shared quarters to the oddest music he has ever heard, but it makes Tristan happy so it makes him happy too.

who is more protective:

LOADED QUESTION because wow they both are! However given what I said about Bedivere at the very start, I'm gonna say that Tristan is more visibly protective of him. Bedivere's protectiveness is fear for Tristan stemming from mythos and that what an aspect of himself did in Camelot will weigh him down and eventually crush him, whereas Tristan's protectiveness is stemming from the fact that his partner was very much on a solitary, incredibly difficult journey for over a thousand years and still will not stop to rest.

When it comes to events and story they're rarely really main targets, not like say Mash or the MC or whatever welfare we get, so I don't think there's a lot of protectiveness around other servants; they no that they can both handle people. Out fighting monsters though, yeah, especially anything that can poison given how Tristan died...Bedivere doesn't take that well. Meanwhile when Bedivere uses his NP Tristan needs to not be anywhere near earshot or line of sight because yeah sure the noble phantasm Bedivere unleashes saying the power can swallow him whole, yeah he's not gonna take that well [tbf neither do any of the other KoR]

And also Bedivere is just...so self sacrificing, he went before the Lion King as a human to fix a mistake he made, he would lay his life down for anyone and everyone, he would die to protect someone every time, and like hell Tristan is going to let him, he'll be selfish for the both of them if he has to, which is another layer of protectiveness when faced with relationships with other servants.

who sings in the shower:

Tristan he's Tristan he has a HARP BOW he just HAS TO. I do also feel like Bedivere is a bit too shy too; we see time and time again that he's just not. Confident in any sort of place for himself? So even small joys would be denied until they managed to get him some kinda therapy THAT IS NOT KIARA.

who cries during movies:

Oh both of them all the way. It may depend on movie, like Tristan absolutely bawling over tragic romances while Bedivere just sits there, uncomfortable, remembering how much fucked up in his life because of other people's tragic romances. Meanwhile any movie that involves a character undertaking a journey and never being able to be the same will just break him. And they both absolutely lose it with animal movies, WHO DOESN'T??

who spends the most while out shopping:

Tristan, really easy pick there. Not only does he seem to REALLY ENJOY the finer things in life, but also Bedivere is so used to living on. Literally nothing, shopping in general is something that takes getting used to. If Tristan ever buys him a gift he has to make certain Bedivere never learns the price because his already modest nature+a thousand+ years of lonely pilgrimage have left him...very aware of the hardships in life and in the face of those, what do you mean you paid hundreds for this gift, I'm not worthy of that- [which starts. such a fight every time.]

who kisses more roughly:

Mmmm boring answer, but honestly I don't think either of them? Bedivere overall is rather gentle and mild mannered, so it's difficult to imagine him being rough in general, and while Tristan I'm sure could, Bedivere's been through so much that all he wants is to treat him softly and gently because god, nothing else did for centuries on end. No he hasn't forgiven Merlin for that, no he won't forgive Merlin for that, he doesn't care if it was started by Bedivere not returning the sword to the lake, that sin has more than been paid for.

who is more domineering:

In the beginning of their relationship Tristan would have to initiate literally anything because Bedivere constantly feels unworthy; over time Bedivere adjusts, but Tristan is still more likely to initiate. So while I can't really see either of them acting entirely domineering, Tristan veers a little closer to it by virtue of being more comfortable with touch and affection.

my rating of the ship from 1-10:

10/10, I really love this ship a lot even though my preference is baaaarely slightly for Merlin and Bedivere. The great part is with this ship I can just ignore all the disgusting womanizing shit typemoon does with Tristan's character <3 <3

THANK YOU FOR THE FOUR ASKS I PROB WILL HAVE TO GET TO THE OTHERS LATER because it's past bedtime and the work week begins again for me,,,,but S O O N.

Ask meme here for anyone who wants to do it/wants to ask me!

#solar screams #solar writes #fgo #bedivere #tristan #wtf is their ship name #bedistan???#tristivere???#camelot spoilers #THANKS WOLFIE

1 note · View note

magicjesuscup · 5 years

Text

The Pocky Game with Arthur (the same would be true of Artoria though)

This ending up being really long, so it’s under the thing. No worries though; it’s SFW. Arthur x Female Master

You bump into him while he’s monitoring his knights’ training and spy a box of pocky in his hands. You get a little excited by the idea that he intended to ask you to play the pocky game later, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

Arthur was just hungry and the box was empty. Although, he is intrigued by a game based around food.

Luckily, Merlin, who is close by, has another box on hand that he gifts to you and Arthur so the two of you can play the game. He does a terrible job of explaining the rules to Arthur though. All he says is, “You each put an end of the pocky stick in your mouth. Whoever eats more of the stick wins.”

Arthur is even more excited now. He’s confident he can eat more of the stick than you. You shoot Merlin a look and wonder if he’s going to mention the bit about possibly kissing the other person. The mind reader just smiles slyly at you, and you instinctively know the answer to your question is a big, fat, “Nope!”

You look to back to Arthur to caution him about getting too close, but the minute you look to him, he’s already pressing the chocolate end to your lips, parting them slightly. He says, “You should at least get a taste of the good part, for I intend to take the rest.” He then places the other end of the pocky stick in his mouth (which causes your head to tilt upward or downwards if there’s a height difference). The look of determination on his face makes your heart pound against your ribcage and face feel very hot.

You hear a few cheers for Arthur as you notice that Every. Single. Knight. had stopped what they were doing and formed a circle around you and Arthur to witness the contest between their master and king.

In fact you were so distracted by the fact that your first kiss with Arthur was going to be very public that you almost didn’t hear Merlin announce, “Begin!”

Arthur wasted no time in devouring that stick of pocky, and you could swear your heart beat was increasing with each inch that disappeared into his mouth. All you could do was close your eyes.

Most of the knights around you continued to cheer for Arthur, but knowing how competitive his king was, especially with an audience, Bedivere called, “Come on, Master; you can take at least one bite!” Bless that cinnamon roll for setting the bar very low so you could feel like you’ve accomplished something.

However, by the time Bedivere’s words of encouragement reached your ears, Arthur’s lips had collided with yours. It only lasted a few seconds, but it somehow felt like it lasted much longer. Has all the air been sucked off of the Earth, or had your lungs just forgotten how to breathe? Arthur pulled away, throwing his arms in the air victoriously.

As some knights were congratulating Arthur, Tristan pointed out that you hadn’t moved at all and likely let him win. Arthur put his arms down asked if that was true; his victory wouldn’t be valid if you hadn’t been trying your best.

Any sentence you could possibly form caught in your throat. As you failed to make words, Merlin suggested you needed to warm up first. He also informs Arthur that there’s 10 more sticks in the box. Merlin punctuates his sentence by shaking said box.

In the second round, Arthur gives you a three second head start. However, you only manage a small bite before he devours the rest. Arthur seems a bit displeased at this result because you should’ve been able to get furthur than you did. He wonders if he’s doing something wrong or perhaps breaking a rule. When you assure him he isn’t, he suggests a rule: You take a bite first and then he will. You’ll continue taking turns until the pocky stick is gone.

After being kissed twice by Arthur in front of his round table, you were beginning to feel less shy, and agree to his terms. You, for the first time, voluntarily take the end of the pocky stick in your mouth. He does the same and flashes you a determined smile when he’s ready. You smile back and take a small nibble from your end. He quirks an eyebrow. It would be unfair for him to take a large bite, so he mirrors you instead.

This continues down the whole stick. As the two of you get closer, he wonders if the true strategy of the game was intimidating the opponent toward the end. However, with that cute smile on your face and playful look in your eyes, he didn’t think he’d be able to glare at you if his life depended on it.

The round ends with your lips touching for the third time as well as a tie. Now that you’re ‘warmed up,’ you continue to play the game waiting for a tie-breaker. You share many laughs and smiles, but empty the box without a clear winner. This leaves Arthur pouting a bit as he wanted to win, but assures you he wasn’t terribly troubled because he had fun and the snack was tasty. He is, of course, talking about the pocky.

Merlin suggests getting another box, but Arthur insists on returning to their training exercises. Arthur thanks you for your company during their break, and suggests you two play the pocky game some other time to determine a clear winner.

You are very aware Arthur has no idea he just kissed you 11 times in front of his knights. He was many wonderful things, but cleaver was not one of them. Still, you did have fun and tell him he should be prepared to lose. He smiled and looked more determined than before as you turned to leave.

As the knights pass you on their way back to their positions, you hear them talking:

Lancelot: I didn’t think our king would be bold enough to kiss her like that, especially in front of us.

Tristan: I’m sure he is as oblivious of her feelings for him as he is of his own feelings for her.

Gawain: That’s a terrible thing to say about our king.

Bedivere: But they did seem to be enjoying themselves either way.

Mordred: *grumbling* I’m not calling her, “mom.”

#Arthur Pendragon #Merlin #Lancelot #Tristan #Gawain #Bedivere #Mordred #Fate/Grand Order

13 notes · View notes

alphawave-writes · 5 years

Text

DPD chapter 25- Annuit cœptis: part 2

Richard sees Gavin's dad naked and learns Gavin's embarrassing secret childhood. The investigation into Philip lead to a shocking reveal about the true murderer. You guys can find this fic on AO3 and FF.NET

RA9 was an elusive murderer, but with a highly specific motive to go on, it felt like they were finally gaining traction. After Gavin spent the night ruminating about the events surrounding Arthur's suicide, he was able to come up with a new list of suspects. Fortunately, it was a small list of people, almost all of which were stationed in Detroit. Unfortunately however, getting in contact with these people and crossing them off the list was a much harder job than either Richard or Gavin anticipated. The prime suspects were Percy Conrad and Philip Seymour but the closure of CyberLife and their subsequent dismissal from the company made finding them difficult. The only other suspects on the list—an NX700 by the name of Rachel and Gavin's father, Wilson Reed—were at opposite ends of the city and required the pair to split up.

The odds were against them: a vicious time limit, the scrutiny of the world, and Gavin's own tragic past loomed with vicious snarling teeth, a three-headed Cerberus that wouldn't let the pair escape hell without a fight.

Richard's one respite was that Gavin was motivated by a determination stronger than gravity itself. The source of this determination, Richard did not know if it was selfish or selfless, but he believed it was good for Gavin. The world had kicked Gavin until he was black and bruised but finally, finally he began to rise, began to fight. Gavin threw himself into his work, not because he wanted to avoid the pain of the recent and distant past but because of his desire to see justice done.

If Richard was honest, he was envious that Gavin could grow like that. The magical change from hot-headed brute to the brilliant rational detective was a sight to see. Richard didn't know if he was capable of such change as an android. At the very least, he will try and match the detective's fervor. He too wanted to see RA9 taken behind bars.

"Are you sure you should meet my dad?"

Richard watched Gavin sipped his coffee loudly as he quickly browsed through the files Connor had sent minutes ago. Perkins was looking into Percy Conrad and Philip Seymour as well and was going to interview them. Connor promised to update them both as soon as possible. Gavin set the tablet down on the kitchen table and stretched his arms behind his back.

"It will be fine," Richard said.

"You sure?" Gavin yawned, creating a few tears to wipe away the crust in his eyes. His hair was sticking in weird ways and he was in due need for a shave but Richard couldn't help but stare at Gavin's scar-riddled chest. He suppressed a smile. Despite himself, he was a little bit proud for being the cause of Gavin's sleepy state this morning.

"You said you wanted to interview the NX700, Rachel."

"If I interview my dad, I'm gonna get complaints about being biased again. The media's already got themselves in a nip twist by the fact I'm still working on the case, and once they hear my dad's a suspect, I'm never gonna hear the end of it." Gavin took a big gulp of his coffee. When he set the mug down, his lips were pressed into a line. "Also, er…I might've…told my dad about us."

Richard blinked once. Just once. "Should I be worried?"

"Fuck no, my dad's fine with the whole android thing, and he knows I'm gay. I'm just saying, er…fuck, how do I say this…he's got a special way of welcoming people."

"Does he not like me?" Richard narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Are you not close to him?"

"Dad calls me up every now and then but we haven't met in a while. As for the first question—" Gavin chugged the rest of his coffee, wiping the beads from his lips with his forearm, "—you're gonna find out later today."

And indeed Richard did indeed find out when he came to the address of a reasonably posh house in Grosse Pointe. Rows of vintage houses with perfectly manicured gardens and snobby old men and women who looked down upon him greeted him once he stepped out of the taxi, though Richard wasn't sure if it was because he was an android or because he arrived in a taxi.

He approached the house of Gavin's father, almost a perfect mirror image to its neighbours were it not for the curious interior that Richard caught sight of through slitted curtains. He rung the doorbell. After a few seconds, a gruff voice rung out over the intercom.

"Who is it?" They rasped.

"My name is Richard. I'm an RK900 android from the DPD, and I need to talk to you about an ongoing investigation."

He heard the grumbles of displeasure.

Richard let out a sigh before adding, "I'm…also Gavin's boyfriend?"

The intercom shut off. Richard was thinking that he might be refused but with his hearing he could hear the faint noise of bare feet shuffling down the stairs. He waited with bated breath as the door creaked open.

And a completely naked old man revealed himself, leveling a pump shotgun right into Richard's chest. A quick scan confirmed that it was definitely Wilson Reed, Gavin's father. A cursory glance downward revealed that the apple didn't fall from the tree in terms of the size of certain bodily parts. Richard didn't know how to feel about this new piece of information.

"So," a sly smile crept up Wilson Reed's cheeks, "you're the one dating my son?"

Richard willed himself to stay calm even as his LED threatened to flash yellow. He had been expecting Gavin's father to be eccentric. He couldn't show he was scared. "Yes," he said. "We are dating."

Wilson Reed glanced up and down Richard's body, as if appraising him. He looked into Richard's eyes, which was difficult, because he was well over a head shorter than Richard. His eyes narrowed. "Living together?"

Richard nodded. "For a few months."

"You two done it together?"

Richard's cheeks flushed. "Yes," he quietly admitted, still keeping his hands up.

"Is that so…" Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Wilson Reed put the shotgun away behind the front door, ushering Richard in. Richard quickly lowered his arms and looked around the neighbourhood, seeing a couple people purposely avoiding eye contact with him, before entering.

It's a stylish yet cosy mansion inside. It's not as perfect as the exterior of the house was but it was built for comfort, with comfy leather sofas and rustic timber tables sat side by side modern IKEA-style shelves stacked full of DVDs and the single largest TV screen Richard had ever seen outside of a billboard advertisement. He turned his head and saw Wilson Reed struggling to put his pants on near the staircase. Out of respect for the man who was seconds ago wielding a shotgun, Richard stood where he was by the door, waiting patiently until Wilson Reed was equipped with pants.

Wilson Reed turned back to Richard with a gentle smile. It suited his rosy cheeks and plump face, but it didn't suit his potentially homicidal tendencies. One hand holding up his slack trousers, he gestured for Richard to follow him and the android silently obliged, going through many short corridors until he found himself in a small study. On the table were a variety of tablets with different police reports about Gavin and a few magazines. Wilson Reed reached for one of the magazines and threw them in Richard's direction. Richard caught it and read the front cover. An LGBTQ magazine held a picture of him and Gavin staring with haunted eyes into the cameras shortly after 42's suicide. The tagline was not much better: All you need to know about Detroit's gay homoandro powercouple.

Wilson Reed grabbed an old polo shirt from the chair and slung it on. "You didn't get scared earlier."

It took Richard longer than he'd like to get what Wilson Reed was saying. He lowered the magazine slightly. "A little bit. More about your nudity than the shotgun."

"You weren't scared of the shotgun?" Richard shook his head. "Why?"

"You didn't take the safety off," Richard pointed out.

Wilson Reed snorted. "Fuck, you noticed. I was hoping you wouldn't." His eyes followed Richard's gaze to the magazine and his lips pull up into a smile. "Of all of the stuff I'd have thought Gawain would be in, I didn't think a gay magazine would be one of them."

"Gawain?" Richard asked.

"That's his name."

"Gawain?!" Richard repeated.

"Blame his mother. She wanted a Knights of the Round Table theme for her kids. Had she gone through with the third pregnancy, he'd have a younger brother called Bedivere."

Richard cringed. "That's a horrible name for a child." Considering the names he initially considered for himself before settling on Richard, that might've been hypocritical for him to say.

"I know, right?" Wilson took the tablet from Richard's hands and stared at the photo. He sighed sentimentally. "Always knew Gawain would be a lawman. You know he legally changed his name to Gavin when he was still in high school? That's when I knew he was gonna be a law man."

It's fascinating learning about Gavin's childhood, and Richard was sure to tease him about it the next time they meet, but there were more pressing issues. For all he knew Wilson Reed was purposely trying to distract him. "Mr. Reed, I must ask you about your whereabouts on the mornings of the 12th, 13th and 14th."

Wilson's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

Richard frowned, mentally deliberating on whether to tell Gavin's father, but the man was astute, catching the meaning behind Richard's hesitation. Wilson Reed sat down in his chair, dazed.

"No…"

"We believe the killer is motivated to bring justice to those they believe meant ill will for Arthur." Richard paused. "Few know the nature of Arthur's death. You are one of them. That gives you motive."

"I didn't kill anyone. The gun's for show, look, I'll even show you, it's actually a lighter if you just flick this switch and—"

"Mr. Reed," Richard said forcefully.

For a second Wilson stared incredulously into Richard's eyes but the weight of the situation finally hit him in the stomach and it sent him reeling. He stared dejectedly between his knees for a few seconds, a million emotions flashing before him, before swiveling his chair to the desk. He moved aside books and tablets to grab a dust-covered photo at the edge of his desk. It's an old photo of Gavin after graduating from the police academy. He was grinning into the camera, holding his mother in a one-armed hug beside him. Richard saw this photo before. Gavin had a better quality copy on his bedside table.

He watched as Wilson took the back off of the photo frame, pulling the photo out. Wilson stared at it, his eyes cloudy with a melancholy Richard couldn't even begin to comprehend. After a few seconds, he handed it to Richard.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"I've been at home all week. Haven't really gone out anywhere or seen anybody so I don't got an alibi to give you—" He tapped the photo, "—but I hope this might make up for a lack of alibi."

With Wilson's prompting, Richard flipped the photo to the other side to find a message written in fine pen.

If any hot guy says 'fuck the police', I'm obliged to show them this picture and give them your number. Sorry, don't make the rules, it's not my fault I got the coolest bro in the world. (Mom, if you're reading this, you also look nice btw).

Love and kisses and all that gay shit,

Arthur

Richard couldn't help but smile. He wasn't sure if the copy Gavin had held this message or not so just in case, he took a snapshot and saved it into his memory. He handed the photo back to Wilson, who carefully put the photo back into its frame and returned it to its designated spot on the desk.

"Those two were thick as thieves," Wilson explained. "You know why Arthur wrote that message? Because he couldn't make it to the graduation. And you know what was the first thing Gawain said when they finally saw each other one week later? 'Don't worry about it'. That's it. Wouldn't accept Arthur's apology because he said there was nothing to forgive."

"It's a touching story, but how does this help me?"

"If your killer knows all about Arthur, they'll know all about Gawain too. And if they know all about Gawain…"

"They'll be one step ahead of us," Richard finished.

"Yeah…" Wilson uttered. "Hate to say it, but maybe my son shouldn't get so involved."

There was a beat of silence where nothing could be heard but the faint fumble of cars driving down the street outside. In that moment Richard thought of Gavin and his actions during the case, the things he said when it was just the two of them, the abrupt confession of love the other day that never failed to leave Richard smiling.

"You're wrong," he said. "The killer is wrong too." Richard gazed meaningfully into Wilson's eyes. "Gavin has changed."

Wilson scoffed with humour. "I'm not surprised, if he's dating an android of all things."

"It's not just that. Gavin is the most unpredictable man I know, and I say that as a good thing. Plenty of expectations are leveled over him and yet he constantly defies them. When everyone expects him to lash out, he keeps a level head. When the world expects him to act stupidly, he thinks rationally. I highly doubt that the killer truly knows Gavin because he's impossible to define. In the context of this case, in light of what the killer may know about us, that might be Gavin's greatest strength." Richard crossed his arms. "Gavin has truly changed, and for the better, I think."

Wilson's reaction was delayed, taking him a fraction of a second to consider Richard's words, but when they do register, his lips curl upward into a sweet, almost gentle smile. It's a smile Richard was familiar with, because Gavin would occasionally make those sweet smiles for him, usually in the comfort of his apartment, alone with each other.

"You and my son are serious, huh?"

Richard smiled bashfully. "Saving each other's lives multiple times tends to do that to a couple."

"But do you love him?" Wilson asked, leaning forward in his chair slightly as he steepled his fingertips.

"I do love Gavin," Richard said, surprised by the ease in which the words spilled out of his synthetic lips. He quickly collected himself, hoping Wilson did not notice the flash of yellow on his right temple. "I hope I have your blessing."

Wilson smirked. "I only just met you. Like all the other boys Gawain brought home, you gotta earn my blessing."

Considering this was Gavin's father, the man who leveled a shotgun naked at him mere minutes ago, Richard suspected earning his respect was going to be something ridiculous. Not that that would stop him. He'd do almost anything for Gavin. "What do I have to do?" He asked.

"You wanna earn my blessing? Catch the motherfucker who thinks he can toy with my son, and make him rot in jail."

Richard smiled wickedly. That was something he would gladly do.

After finally leaving Wilson Reed's house (but not before Wilson revealed more childhood stories about Gavin), Richard was en route to Philip Seymour's address. Along the drive, it's Connor who updated him on new information on the case. Perkins had found and interviewed Percy Conrad, who in turn revealed Philip Seymour's address. Once it was revealed he was a suspect in the murders, he practically threw Philip under the bus, citing an incident Philip masterminded that led to their simultaneous dismissal from CyberLife and their subsequent hiding from RA9. Connor claimed that Percy Conrad was vague in describing the inciting incident, but insisted that it was quite bad. Connor gave him and Gavin Philip Seymour's address.

"I bought you some time, but I will have to report this to Perkins in half an hour," Connor said through the mental uplink.

"It's fine, Connor. Half an hour is more than enough. ETA 3 minutes to Philip Seymour's address."

"I'll continue my research into him, try and figure out how exactly he got fired. At the moment, however, it seems like he is our primary suspect."

Richard pursed his lips. "Even though he's a human?"

"I'm…still working on my theory on how." The sound of a forced chuckle could be heard through the connection before they disconnected. The taxi stopped in front of Philip Seymour's place. A few blocks away, Richard could see Gavin sitting in his civilian car. As he got out, so too did Gavin. Richard walked over to Gavin and broke out into a grin. Something about seeing the man he loved just made him feel better somehow.

Gavin leaned onto the car. "My dad didn't give you too much crap, did he?"

Richard went around to the trunk of Gavin's car, retrieving a briefcase. "He tried to shoot me with a shotgun naked."

"Huh. He must like you," Gavin murmured.

Richard shut the trunk and turned to Gavin. "How is threatening me with a shotgun a good thing?"

"If he didn't like you, he'd have brought out the shovel too," Gavin said casually.

Richard recalled seeing a shovel right next to where the shotgun was kept. He suppressed a shiver as he followed Gavin to the front steps of the house.

Gavin pointed at the briefcase. "Gonna tell me what's in that case?"

"My new back-up plan. If one of us ever needs to make an escape, I can camouflage myself as you." Richard opened the briefcase slightly to reveal a bunch of folded up clothes, including a perfect replica of Gavin's trademark red hoodie.

Gavin rolled his eyes, smiling. "No offense, but that's not going to work. You're way taller than me. There's no way you can mimic me."

Richard was glad Gavin had responded in that way, because now he could prove him wrong. He turned to Gavin and transformed slowly, letting the skin shift and morph until his face and skin was an almost perfect representation of Gavin. He cleared his throat in an obnoxiously loud manner and, in a perfect echo of Gavin's voice, said, "My name is Gavin Reed, and I love cock. I love it so fucking much because it helps me compensate for my tiny dick—"

"OK, I get it—"

"—because my dick, which is tiny, has been compared by many to look like a baby's pacifier."

"—What the fuck, Richard, stop. Seriously." Gavin playfully slapped at Richard's arm. The camouflage melted away shortly afterwards. An incredulous chuckle bubbled from Gavin's throat. "Y-You absolute dick."

"Still think I can't camouflage as you?"

Gavin snorted. "We both know my dick is not tiny."

"I know," Richard grinned, "but mine's bigger, Gawain."

Before Gavin could even splutter a retort, Richard rung the doorbell, effectively silencing the man.

Instead of an older human opening the door as Richard expected, an android was the one standing in the doorway. They smiled politely, the expression only reaching their lips and not their eyes. Their LED was gone, removed some time ago, but if it was still there, Richard would think it would perpetually shine blue.

"May I help your gentlemen?" The android asked.

Gavin wasted no time flashing his badge. "We're here to see Philip Seymour."

"Of course, right this way." The android sidestepped so they may enter. Gavin entered first, with Richard trailing behind, taking in the strange expression on the android.

The android led them to a sitting room filled with a variety of different good luck charms. Gavin was asking meaningless questions to the android and it's then that Richard saw the first crackles of emotion on their expressionless face, that emotion being surprise. Richard did not pay attention to what Gavin was saying, for Richard already knew what the purpose of the conversation was, and that was to distract the android while he scanned the area undisturbed. Richard scanned the bookcase that was filled to the brim of books on astrology and pseudo-sciences, the kitchen in the next room that looked like it had never been used, and finally the android that was in the room with them. It's a typical HK400 model but even from a preliminary glance, there was something strange about the android in front of him. What specifically was so strange about it, Richard could not yet figure out.

Richard retracted the skin on his hand, ready to extract more information from the HK400 while it was still distracted by Gavin when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden floors. Flesh had returned just as a chubby man in his 40s slowly walked in, accompanied by another android. Philip Seymour's profile appeared in Richard's periphery. The only thing of interest in the profile was that he was extremely near-sighted, but the man wasn't wearing his glasses. He might as well be blind as a bat at the moment.

"You're that famous detective on the TV," Philip drawled, gesturing vaguely for them to sit on his leather seats. "You must be here about those awful murders."

Gavin crossed his arms instinctively, making no move to sit down. "We are," he said, already wary of Philip.

Everything in Richard's body and mind was screaming that Philip was danger incarnate, but for the life of him he could not figure out why that was his initial response. The answers were locked away in the recesses of his mind, and Richard did not yet have the key.

The HK400 slinked away while the other android, a PL700 from Richard's analysis, came from behind to offer Gavin a drink from a tray. The detective shook his head. The PL700 retreated. The corners of Philip's lips inch downward for a microsecond before returning to a placid smile.

"What brings you here then?" Philip asked.

"You've heard about the RA9 murders, right?"

Philip Seymour's eyes narrowed. "You're not suggesting I am involved, are you?"

"Of course not," Richard lied, not missing a single beat. "We are merely addressing security threats to the most probable targets, which unfortunately includes you. This will mean officers will be assigned to your care indefinitely."

Philip's eyes widen in shock and his stress levels jump. He clicked his fingers impatiently to his side, prompting the PL700 to quickly retrieve a pair of glasses from his pocket. Philip quickly slid them on and stared intently at Richard. His eyes focused on the scar on Richard's cheek.

"…What was your name again?" Philip asked cautiously.

"Richard," he said slowly. The grip on the briefcase was tight.

Philip nodded in acceptance, but the crease in his brows remained. He turned to Gavin. "You don't have any suspects?"

"Our primary purpose is the protection of the city and its people," Gavin said, probably quoting some old handbook for cops. "We are looking into the murderer, but it is equally important that potential key targets are protected."

Philip nodded stiffly, flicking his wrist in the direction of the PL700. They quickly grab a bottle of bourbon on the lone table and poured a glass, handing it to Philip. He takes a big gulp, not even bothering to savour the flavor and makes a show of disgust as it burned his throat. By his side, the PL700 stood motionless, a servant at the beck and call of his master.

"We need to take a look around your house," Gavin continued. "For security reasons."

Richard glanced at Gavin who was already staring pointedly in his direction. I'll distract him, you go dig up some dirt the detective's eyes said. Richard nodded microscopically.

"Very well," Philip sighed, unable to hide the grumble of anger in his voice. He and the PL700 lead Gavin through the house, leaving Richard alone with the HK400. Richard waited as Gavin is lead through the ground floor and up the stairs, their footsteps going softer and softer until they could be heard no more.

He did not waste the opportunity he was given. He snooped through the ground floor, searching the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, the dining room, searching for the evidence of fowl play he knew was here somewhere. In opening a door to what he thought was a supply closet, Richard instead encountered a narrow staircase descending into darkness. The basement, his mind supplied, but he didn't need to enter to know that there was nothing of interest. Just a beat-up old car that hadn't seen the light in well over a few years, and a workbench covered in thirium packets. Withholding a sigh, Richard closed the door.

"May I help you?" The HK400 asked.

His eyes widen, the only indicator of his surprise aside from his yellow LED. Richard quickly put on a fake smile, "I'm fine," he said, when he noticed something off. A theory that sprang into mind, one that explained the strange behavior of the android in front of him.

Ignorant of this, the HK400 remained smiling.

"You're…not deviant," Richard said.

"That is correct, I am not," the HK400 stated. "I am a household android tasked with taking care of my owner, Philip Seymour."

Richard couldn't recall meeting an android that had yet been touched by the gift of deviancy. Unconsciously the skin on his hand retracted, and he briefly wondered whether he should liberate this android like Connor had done so before him. Richard knew roughly how to do it, and it might provide him some answers, but then he recalled his own discovery of deviancy, how it took Gavin's help to feel a sense of control. He recalled Regina and how she lashed out after deviancy.

Maybe another time, he thought as he grasped the HK400 by the wrist. Investigation first.

Richard held onto the HK400's wrist for less than three seconds, before he violently retracted his hand, his LED flashing red. In those precious few seconds, Richard saw almost a year's worth of incriminating footage, saw the obsession, the writing on the walls. Worst yet was this feeling that bubbled within him, the knowledge that he had scraped the surface of something much more sinister than a few murders. In those three seconds, he'd opened Pandora's box and saw the wicked, twisted truth and the sins it represented.

He staggered back, the systems keeping his posture temporarily malfunctioning. The HK400 smiled woodenly. There was no emotion in its eyes, not even as Richard reached for the emergency panel and shut the android down manually.

Quickly and quietly, Richard hurried up the stairs, trying to find Gavin. All the doors were closed except for one, which was slightly ajar. Richard peered through as his mind desperately tried to conjure a way to get both him and Gavin out of his wretched house alive and uninjured. The narrow possibilities began to ring through his head when suddenly the uplink is forced open, and he heard the shrill panic of Connor's voice.

"Nines! Get out of there!"

"Connor, I know. I don't have time for this," Richard said hurriedly through the uplink, not even bothering to hide his terror.

"Philip Seymour was fired from CyberLife for stealing androids and reprogramming them."

"What? Reprogram?"

"I don't know how exactly, but I don't want to find out. You need to get out of there now!"

Richard knew Philip Seymour had to be involved in the murders, he had to be. All the evidence was stacking up against him, but there was no way he could have physically have done it. He was too short and too slow, and everything else had pointed to a singular android culprit. He was clearly the mastermind, but who was the pitiful android he had ensnared for this purpose? Who?

The sound of a body crumpling to the ground took Richard back to reality. He leaned closer to the gap in the door in time to see Philip glaring down at Gavin's body. It's then that he saw it on the wall behind Philip, the final piece of the puzzle, the identity of the culprit.

"No…no," Richard mouthed, as he attempted to scurry away. He still had the Gavin disguise in his briefcase. He could find a bathroom to change, wake Gavin up, and switch places before they know the difference. It's the only way to ensure Gavin's survival. He whipped his head around, only to find the PL700 stare emotionlessly at him. Richard glanced downwards far too late, the crackle of electricity from the taser seizing his body in jittery spasms. His systems overload one by one, fireworks exploding within his plastic body. He collapsed on the ground and closed his eyes.

Richard found himself in the one place he never wished to see again: the graphical interface he had once dubbed 'the forest'. A swell of panic rose as he saw what he thought to be Regina, his tormentor, but the genuine fear she showed him was all that he needed to know that this was another entity altogether. An entity that merely shared Regina's face and body. An entity purposely designed to only appear in times of stress when he's found conflicting data. A stress ball made corporeal in an imaginary world.

"Morpheus," Richard gasped.

The look on Morpheus was not calm like when they first met. Instead it was harrowed and haunted. "Richard," she said quietly.

"Please, let me out of here. I need to help Gavin. Let me wake up."

"If you awaken, the chance for self destruction is high."

"Please," Richard begged, "just for a few seconds. If not to save myself, then to make sure Gavin is OK." He tugged at her sleeve desperately. "Please…"

Morpheus looked down to her feet for a few seconds before nodding. Her hands move and a screen is projected in front of her. It's Richard's emergency feed, originally designed for human technicians to review his cases for any faults in his logic. There was no video but the sounds of a conversation could be heard.

"—really think we should reset it? It's too dangerous," Philip's muffled voice said.

Another voice chimed in, "It is merely an android, one that just so happens to be working on the case against us. If we reset it, we can raise it our own way. Control it. It will be instrumental in acting out our revenge."

Richard could feel the stress levels in him rise. It's a voice he was familiar with, but the way they spoke brought chills up his spine. What used to sound so full of life was now an empty shell, void of emotion.

"You think?" Philip paused. He didn't need visuals to hear the malicious smirk spread across his face. "Then let's do it. Set the machine up. We're resetting the RK900."

The video cut out and Richard stared wide-eyed, trying to stop his hammering heart from exploding within him. He collapsed on the ground, begging helplessly to wake up, to stand up and rescue Gavin. But Morpheus stood with a frown on her face, shaking her head. Tears flow uninterrupted from Richard's face as he pleaded and pleaded with Morpheus but she remained unmoving. She placed a single hand on his shoulder, the only bit of comfort the artificial construct could reproduce.

#DPD #dbh #Detroit become human #dbh gavin #gavin reed #rk900 #reed900 #gavin900 #Since tumblr apparently doesn't like links anymore I'm just going to put the fic under a readmore #You guys can find it on AO3 as well if you want #There has to be a better way to do this and if you guys know it let me know #Until then I'm just gonna put the chapter as is like this

9 notes · View notes

wroughtironhero · 6 years

Text

Once and Future

Let me tell you the story of a king.

There was once a young girl who dreamed of a world filled with smiling faces. So that it might come to pass, she took up a sword and cast away her humanity. Even if it would not last, even if the price was her own life, she would see her dream come true.

She fought many battles and defeated many foes to secure peace for her lands. She built a kingdom and gathered together there paragons of chivalric virtue to protect her people. She was the ideal king who discarded her happiness for the happiness of her people.

Even so, she knew that its end would come still. To save her people, she and her knights sought out the holy grail, a relic capable of miracles, one which might avert the terrible fate before her. However, despite their searching, the grail was never retrieved. With no other choice, the king and her knights returned home.

Yet her return was a not a welcome one. In her absence, the people rebelled and turned against her. Her knights likewise succumbed to conflict with one another. The kingdom fell to civil war and finally ruin with the final battle on that bloody hill. There, she had claimed her promised victory, her promised defeat. Letting go of her sword, she passed on to slumber in an eternal dream.

And so her story ends.

Although, you and I know there’s more to it than that, don’t we?

“Fou?”

I jump to consciousness with a shock, jolting upright in bed and sending the small creature that was standing on my chest flying. My hands dig into the mattress beneath me, threatening to tear its cushioning. Darting my eyes around the bare room, I only find my Master standing at my side, recoiled in shock, and the strange animal now climbing onto her shoulder. With a deep sigh, I slide my legs off the side of the bed before burying my face in my hands.

“Good morning, Master. My apologies if I startled you.”

That was the first time I’ve slept in ages, the first time I’ve dreamed in... more. As a Guardian, sleep is no longer a necessity for me. Yesterday, however, was tiring enough to make an exception.

She chuckles nervously, pulling the beast from the perch of her shoulder and into her arms, hoping it won’t cause any more trouble. Thankfully, the mass of white fur seems content with her petting for time being.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry to disturb you! I’m just so used to seeing you already making breakfast at this hour I that I came in to check on you, but then Fou dashed in while the door was open and...”

Her explanation dies in her throat before she can finish it. I can read the concern in features as she chews at her lip. She’s worried for me, or otherwise nervous about something. Hardly surprising, but it wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t. Leave it to the girl trying to save the world to worry about the health of a dead man.

“Anyway, I’m just glad you’re okay. When you’re feeling up to it, I need your help with something, but I’ll let you get back to sleep now.”

I shake my head at her as I stand upright, crossing my arms.

“No need. I think I’ve slept enough for the next few lifetimes. Now, what would you ask of me, Master?”

Call it a bad habit, but I don’t have time to mope around. Humanity’s continued existence is riding on us and I’m one of the few reliable Servants we have around here.

After letting the now struggling Fou down to scurry off into some other corner of the facility, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before she opens them once more to stare at me with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

“Archer No. Heroic Spirit Emiya, this is something only you can do.”

Mash’s shield, the greatest protection of Sir Galahad, sits in the shallow water beneath Chaldeas, reflecting the globe’s deep blue light, the light of humanity. As the core of the round table, it is a perfect catalyst for calling heroes and legends of all kinds to our aid and is the backbone upon which Chaldea’s summoning system, FATE, is built upon. Even so, it has limits. No matter what system is utilized to summon Servants, no spell can draw in a soul beyond the reach of mankind.

“I’m sorry, Master, but it’s not possible. She’s no longer within the cycle. You’d have better luck attempting to travel to the isle yourself.”

My Master stands across from me, glaring up to my level. Miss Kyrielight looks back and forth between us, nervousness furrowing her brow. It’s far from the first time she’s seen us argue, but it still bothers her all the same. Watching an argument between your two senpai can hardly be considered a calming experience.

“After everything we’ve seen, do you really think the rules you know still apply? The world’s already ended, Archer! This wouldn’t be the first impossible thing we’ve done.”

It pains me to admit it, but she’s right. The only constant in a Holy Grail War is people finding ways to break the rules. With the appearance of the singularities, it seems even the most iron-clad of the world’s laws have crumbled to nothing. The King of Magic’s meddling might be meant to doom us, but it’s proven to work in our favor.

After... after we returned the sword, Bedivere ceased to be. His very soul was burnt out of existence by his silver arm. The loss of the soul is the most true form of death there is, a fate not even the mightiest of Heroic Spirits could survive.

And yet, when we returned to Chaldea, we found him summoned to us. Even as his spirit was erased from existence, his heroism earned him a place within the Throne. An impossible paradox saved him, bringing one of her closest allies to our side. So if he could be summoned after being erased entirely, then...

“...What could I possibly accomplish? I’m no Knight of the Round. I’m nothing more than a simple magus, an anomaly in the system. I have no greater connection to her than any Servant that’s done battle with her.”

“That’s not true!”

Mash finds her voice, objecting to my feigned ignorance. My eyes go wide as she speaks of knowledge she can’t possess.

“You were never an enemy to her! You were ”

She quiets herself before she can finish. The looks she and our Master exchange tell me this was a secret meant to be kept between them.

“I’m sorry, Emiya-senpai. Senpai wanted to tell you herself, but I couldn’t say nothing. Hearing you talk like that... As a Servant, I just couldn’t bear to listen any longer.”

The room seems to spin around me. I look dumbfounded to my Master for answers, but she tends to her clearly distraught kouhai before me. The redhead takes her Servant’s hand in hers before squeezing it gently.

“It’s alright, Mash. I understand. Hearing that from another Master, it’s only natural to be upset.”

Finally, my patience wears out. I step forward, demanding an answer.

“Master, what is the meaning of this? What do you two ”

Stepping away from Mash’s side, she silences me with a stare I’ve seen only once before. It’s the stare of a demonic and tyrannical Master who has put her foot down. There is no argument to be made against her anymore. With the same cold, but somehow fiery gaze, she explains herself to me as though I were nothing but an amateur.

“You’ve forgotten something simple, Archer, a fact that should be burned into your memory. When a contract is forged, the Master and Servant’s minds are linked. In dreams, the Master learns of their Servant’s past, allowing them to understand their identities beyond their true name. Ever since the beginning in Fuyuki, I’ve had my suspicions, but Camelot proved them beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Her words pierce through my defense of stoicism, fracturing the image of a cold hearted Guardian I’ve so carefully built up. With one statement, she destroys the Hero of Wrought Iron and reveals the man it hides.

“I know who you are, Emiya Shirou.”

With that, the truth is laid bare. My hands fall to my side, limp and empty. Once again, I have suffered an incontrovertible defeat.

“ So, I’ve been found out. And here I thought I might cling to some small part of my dignity.”

A pitiful chuckle leaves me as I cover my sight with a single hand.

“If you know that much, then you should know this changes nothing. The King of Knights answers the call of the Grail no more. There is no catalyst great enough to draw her from her eternal rest.”

“You’re wrong, Emiya-senpai. Becoming one of her knights, I should know. There are some connections that can never be severed.”

Mash interjects once more. The both of us turn to face her, as she beams a bright, serene smile, folding her hands behind her back.

“A sword will always return to its sheath.”

Kind words fell the beast in a way no blade ever could. Any protest left within me is utterly routed. Even through such distant separation, the contract remains. Who am I to deny it?

“...You are right, Miss Kyrielight. I should not waste another second.”

Steeling my resolve, I approach the shield and extend my left hand out to it. The two girl stand at a distance from me, ready to provide support. Magical energy flows out from me and my Master in kind. The price of a summoning must be paid and for this miracle, the cost is high. Blocking out the strain, blocking out my surroundings, blocking out any disbelief within me, I press on.

Closing my eyes, I dive deep into the sea of my memories. Within their depths, I seek out that one moment in time. Hardly a second passes before it arrives, like a beacon of light shining through the fog. It should come as no surprise. I’m sure I’ll remember this scene vividly, even when I’ve gone to hell.

Clang. A beautiful sound.

That light. Only that sound is something I’ll never forget all my life. The sound of the bell that announces the commencement of battle. The beautiful sound from her flawless armor accompanies her figure.

“ I ask of you, are you my Master?”

Her voice is still clear. The image in my memory did not erode over time; even now it is still etched deeply into my heart. It was as if time had stopped. The scene lasted less than a second, but I still remember it vividly, even in death.

“I, Servant Saber, have come forth in response to your summons. From this time forth, my sword shall be with you and your fate shall be with me.

Now, our contract is complete.”

...Yes, the contract is complete. She chose me to become her Master and I swore to help her with all my might. The moonlight illuminated the darkness. The knight’s figure appeared in the shed as if to reclaim silence. As I think to myself, that familiar name slips out of my mouth.

“Saber...”

I still cannot forget that blue light. Her blonde hair bathed in moonlight had texture as fine as grained gold. Even now, these clear blue memories live on inside my heart.

You have found your salvation. You do not regret your path. The dream we believed in, you made it come true. I can ask for no more.

...But I want to see you. Even if I have to continue on as machine, I still want you to hear my voice. This trust and love for you has never wavered, not me as a hero, but the boy who could never protect anything and in the end, wholeheartedly became your sheath.

That is why I must make this one last selfish request.

The hammer comes knocking down. My circuits roar to life, working to give shape to the image in my mind. Ingrained within my very being even in its absence, I recreate it without fault. The ultimate protection of King Arthur, Excalibur’s paired other half, the holy relic that gave purpose to my existence, is returned. Avalon, the Ever-distant Utopia, the singular link to the isle of the fey appears before me once more.

“Please come... Saber!”

From the center of the shield, a pillar of golden light erupts. The brightness is enough to rob me of sight. The force of it is enough to knock me off balance and prone. Propping myself up, my vision slowly returns to me as the wellspring of magical energy fades. As the light dies down, the figure before it becomes clear.

A flowing gown of blue, white, and gold. Golden hair tied perfectly in a bun by a singular blue ribbon. Emerald green eyes that seem to sparkle in the light. A cobalt shimmer of air in hand obscuring an unknown weapon. As though to eliminate any remaining doubt, a spark of pain ignites in my left hand, in the mark that should be long and permanently faded. There is no mistaking it.

“...”

She’s back.

#burdensword #King of Knights #long post #It's the moment you've all been waiting for #Pardon the absurd length; had a lot that needed to be spelled out

28 notes · View notes

winchester-writes · 7 years

Text

A Queen for the King #7

Summary: With a righteous blow, Arthur defeated Vortigern, destroyed the looming tower, and had taken his rightful place on the throne, vowing to do whatever was necessary to defend the kingdom, and her people. He was a King of the people; honest, compassionate, hard working. Everything that Vortigern was not. There was just one thing missing; the woman he was betrothed to as a child. There is a saying, after all; every king needs a queen. Characters in this chapter: Arthur Pendragon, female reader, Hannah [minor ofc] Characters mentioned: People of the kingdom Pairing: Arthur Pendragon x female reader Word Count: 1,483 Warnings: Cavity-inducing fluff Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all the support and positivity you have shown us! This series would be nothing without you.

Co-written with @mrs-squirrel-chester

***Our work is not to be posted on any other sites without our express written permission.***

PREVIOUSLY ON A QUEEN FOR THE KING

Sighing in contentment, you spoke, not afraid of the words that were about to leave your lips, not after the incredibly private moment the two of you finally shared. “I think I'm falling in love with you.”

“That’s good,” he chuckled, turning to kiss your forehead. “Because I have already fallen.”

The day had finally come; you and Arthur were to be married, become husband and wife, strongly loving one another till your end of days. It's been three tiresome weeks as you helped plan out your wedding.

The morning after you spent a most magical night with him, was when he asked you to officially marry him, that he couldn't stand another day without you having the Pendragon name as your own. You agreed, and within that day, the two of you started making arrangements.

It was to be a grand wedding, one fit for a King, but it was also to be a small wedding as Arthur wasn't a fan of grandeur. The two of you compromised certain things, but he left a majority of it for you to decide since this was a dream come true for you; something you had been looking forward to since you were little.

Now, there you stood, in front of two giant doors separating you from the man who was to be your husband, your King, forever. Bedivere smiled down at you in your elegant, flowing white dress, cream, lace butterflies and ribbon elegantly twisted throughout your long, braided hair.

“Are you ready m’lady?” He could not help but chuckle as you grinned wide, nodding your excitedly. You held your breath as soon as the doors were opened, and the moment you caught eyes with Arthur, it felt as if all the air had been stolen from your lungs.

There he stood, at the end of the aisle, donning his best white uniform, the one you begged him to get tailored and wear, sword at his side, golden crown sitting proudly atop his head. His eyes grew wide, and he gasped at the sight of you, his lips moving as he talked to no one but himself. You found yourself wanting to know what he had said, but Bedivere squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to the present.

“Thank the gods for you,” you breathed. “I would not be able to walk on my own.”

Bedivere smiled. “It is an honor to escort our future Queen.” Arriving at the altar, Bedivere placed your hands in Arthur’s, and bowed out of respect more than duty.

“You are a vision, my love,” Arthur whispered breathlessly, his hands squeezing yours.

Blushing under his words and the weight of his gaze, you sniffled, determined not to cry. At least, not yet. “Thank you,” you replied, mere seconds before the ceremony started.

The ceremony was traditional; the vow of fidelity, to love one another, no matter the hardship, pledging honesty and obedience, the exchange of rings - a simple gold band for Arthur, a sapphire encrusted band for you, and the blessings the minister bestowed upon you. As soon as the minister gave his permission for Arthur to kiss you, he had you wrapped tightly in his arms, and there was a chorus of exclamations as soon as Arthur’s lips touched yours.

The rest of the day was spent in celebration; drinking, dancing, and laughing. Surrounded by family and friends, the extremely sweet people of the kingdom, you could not be happier.

The next week was your coronation; you were going to be crowned Queen, and rule alongside Arthur. The title was not important to you, as long as you and Arthur together for the remainder of your days, you would be the happiest woman alive.

Arthur led you to the altar, your hand draped over his, crown adorning his head, wearing the same suit he wore the week prior. Seeing him in it made your stop flop lazily, and a blush colored your cheeks.

“Easy, my love,” he purred into your ear. “You can undress me later.”

“Is that a promise?” you asked, licking your lips in a suggestive manner. With a wink, Arthur nodded before giving his full attention to the man standing ahead, sparkling crown at his side, large book in his hands.

As soon as the Archbishop began to speak, butterflies erupted in your stomach. You knew nothing about leading people, providing for a whole kingdom. What if you were a terrible queen, one that made one wrong decision, and ended up getting people hurt, even killed? You felt nauseous and lightheaded at the thought.

"Oh gods, the crown of the faithful; bless we beseech thee and sanctify this thy servant, our queen, and as thou dost this day set a crown upon her head, so enrich her royal heart with thine abundant grace, and crown her with all princely virtues through the gods eternal. Amen,” announced the Archbishop.

Arthur accompanied you to the throne, where the two of you sat while the Dean of your kingdom carried the crown; the Archbishop trailing him. The Dean placed the crown in the Archbishop’s hands, who then reverently placed it upon your head.

As soon as the Archbishop stepped back, the kingdom rejoiced, “Gods save the Queen. Gods save the Queen. Gods save the Queen!” Arthur was clapping and wearing a proud smile, his men had their fists clapped to their chests, over their hearts, bowing to you as they have their King.

Finally, the Archbishop, standing before you, said, “Gods crown you with a crown of glory and righteousness, that having a right faith and manifold fruit of good works, you may obtain the crown of an everlasting kingdom by the gift of him whose kingdom endureth for ever."

To that, the guests, with heads bowed, and concurred, "Amen."

Later, at the celebration, you and Arthur spun lazily around the dance floor, one arm around your back, securing you to his chest, looking deep into your eyes.

So much had happened in so little time, everything was overwhelming, at least that was the reason Arthur gave you when you woke up earlier the next week not feeling so well.

When Arthur woke up that morning, he barely brushed back the curtains, only letting a sliver of light into the room. Opening one eye, you were able to catch his bare ass walking through the bathroom door. Smiling, you rolled over, but regretted it as your stomach turned. A small groan fell from you, gaining the attention of your husband.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Arthur walked over to you, crawling in behind you, and holding you close, his lips below your ear. “Still not feeling well my Queen?”

Shaking your head was all you could muster, as you felt you would have to rush to the bathroom to dry heave, if you spoke. He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face before placing a kiss on your cheek.

“I have some ‘Kingly’ duties to do today.” He put air quotes around Kingly, he hated having to leave you when you felt like this. He stressed that the first day you felt this sickly, and he could do nothing to help. “I should be back around lunch time. If you're feeling well enough I will see you in the dining hall. If not, I will come see you in here again.”

“I'm sorry I cannot attend again, my love… I know we are a team now, and I'm lacking in my duties as Queen.” You cupped his face and ran a thumb across his freshly shaven cheek.

“You get your rest, that is more important than any royal duties, the people will understand.” Arthur rose from the bed and started to get dressed for the day.

Once completely dressed he was giving you one last kiss to your forehead before walking out of the room. Just as the door latched closed, it opened again, this time with Hannah walking through it.

“M’ lady, may I discuss something with you?”

“Of course,” you obliged, sitting up as well as you could, giving her a soft smile, patting the side of the bed. “You know you can always talk to me about anything.”

Hannah nodded before she came to sit next to you in the bed. “If I may be so bold, I may have a reason as to why you've been so tired and not feeling well, your majesty. I've seen it a few times with some of the girls at the brothel.”

Your brow furrowed as you cocked your head at her. “How is it that a prostitute and a Queen have something in common?” You did not mean it to come out so harshly.

“I meant no disrespect, m’lady. It's just… your sheets have been clean for over a week, you're emptying the contents of your stomach daily, and feeling dreary,” Hannah stated as she nervously played with a string on one of the blankets.

The wheels turned in your head, but you were not sure if you were ready to believe what you are thinking was true or not. “What exactly are you saying Hannah?”

“I think you are pregnant, my Queen.”

EIGHT

ALWAYS & FOREVER: @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @busybee612 @awkward-squash-sparrow @waywardimpalawriter @thinkwritexpress-official @mrs-moose-chester @dean-in-the-devils-trap @badassbaker @honestly-how-do-you-art @lucifer-in-leather @sunriserose1023 @storytelling-reader @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @xtina2191 @deaths-damn-fruit-basket @number-one-supernatural-trash @mizzezm @padathatackles @howlingbarnes @mizzzpink @sherrybaby14 @jensen-gal @dragontearsandunicornfears @vale0413 @youtoldalie @oriona75 @just-another-busy-fangirl @docharleythegeekqueen @palaiasaurus64 @iamwarrenspeace @gallxntdean @caitsymichelle13 @queencflair @sallyp-53 @mogaruke @lilacs-lavender @percywinchester27 @einhornisch @psychicwitchphilosopher @juanitadiann @pabegay1 @angelsandwinchesters @melanie451 @sgarrett49 @avengersgirllorianna @thecynicalnerd @moonlessnight14 @gemini75eeyore A Queen for the King: @because-imma-lady-assface @katymacsupernatural @concertxjunkie @the-witching-hours12-3 @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th @rebelslicious @rda1989 @notyetraised-fromperdition @gettinjoyful @carbonated-beverage @fast-times-in-the-impala @mylittlefandomfanfictions @goldenolaf25 @deangirl1992 @fangirl--of-everything @brewsthespirit-blog @delicrieux @nuvoleincielo @vikingsfloki @darkkittymews @thebabeontheback @thevioletthourr @imyourliquor-youremypoison @i-never-said-a-pilot @faegal04 @blu-eyed-devil @hopplessdreamer @jessilliam-caronday @deekaahtj @succubussass @trisclary123 @aeryntheofficial @garnetandlace @whispersofjoy @sweatshirtsfromsatan @damnandriel-in-hell @14readwritedraw96 @meganlpie @aworldwideapart @caitlyn-blackwell @ellen-reincarnated1967 @ktgracee19

#king arthur: legend of the sword #king arthur #king arthur x reader #king arthur fanfic #king arthur imagine #king arthur onehost #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon fanfiction #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon oneshot #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam fanfic #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam oneshot #co-written with mrs-squirrel-chester #masterlist #winchester-writes

338 notes · View notes

agentdagonet · 6 years

Text

Echoes, Ch. 10

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

Eggsy stopped wearing the specs for a bit, after that. The cast came off and PT started for his arm; it was a bitch and a half but it meant he was getting better. That he'd be getting back into the field. But he kept coming back to Harry. Now that it was shoved into his face, albeit accidentally by what was basically a high-tech ghost, Eggsy couldn't help but marvel that he'd upheld Kingsman tradition entirely by accident. He'd upheld a Galahad tradition in a fit of loss and self loathing. Which in itself seemed to be a Galahad tradition. He hid the decanter in a cabinet, but it didn't really do much beside leave a hole to remind him of the realisation. A spot where shit's cleaner or something when you move what was there before.

Eggsy went through the motions of his days much as he had before, but he couldn't really pretend that nothing had changed. On some level (everything I've done has been trying to repay him) Eggsy had always known that Harry still blamed himself for his father's death. No stranger would have reacted to his record so vehemently otherwise- well meaning or not, there'd been honest anger hiding behind his pointed words. The way Harry had always mentioned his dad in passing (your father had the same look on his face) with that melancholy look... In a strange way, Eggsy was grateful that Harry'd been in a coma for such a large portion of his training. Fuck knew what other unnecessary comparisons he would have made between Eggsy and his dad. Where else Eggsy would have ended up barely more than an echo of his father in Harry's eyes. Those thoughts were driven from his head as violently and often as he could manage, often with a round or two at the firing range and a stiff drink. With the notable exception of Roxy once betting he couldn't not shoot himself if he was plastered, the two didn't mix- though he couldn't deny that watching Roxy waddle about awkwardly in a set of twenty-five centimetre platforms was totally worth it.

It took a while, but eventually Eggsy put on his big boy pants and sat himself down in front of Harry in the drawing room on a Thursday afternoon.

'What, no drink, Haz?' Holo-Harry was wearing a cardigan, some dark colour, and holding a book that he'd probably been pretending to read while waiting for Eggsy to step the fuck up and sit the fuck down with him. Not that Eggsy'd been paying attention, or anything.

'With little exception, Eggsy, relaxation does not require alcohol. Perhaps every once in a while, but if one's immediate association with relaxing is to drink... well, I'm certain we both know where that leads.' The book was closed and placed upon his lap, spine obscured by Harry's forearms resting atop it. 'No, Eggsy, this conversation requires no vice strong as that. 'My name is Harry Hart- my mother named me for her grandfather, Hawkins; luckily without actively providing me with a built in "kick me" sign. My father was not the most pleasant of men, my mother was as well-meaning as she was exasperated with the hand she believed life had dealt her, but betwixt them they had far more connections than any average family ought. Mostly due to the fact that my father's first cousin is a man by the name of Chester King.'

Eggsy gasped quietly, never having thought he'd one day vaguely regret killing the man. Very vaguely. Like a memory you're not quite sure truly happened or was just a really realistic dream. Or a blurry picture you can just barely make out.

That is to say, not very much at all, but the fact that they'd been related was an unpleasant surprise. 'We never interacted much- our differences in age and politics were a harsh divide- but the connection was there. Many a night I would come home from university to find my father in the sitting room entertaining him, a fair bit of scotch split between two glasses.' Harry sighed, one hand raising to rub at the bridge of his nose, and Eggsy suddenly noticed just how tired Harry looked. 'Contrary to what you might believe based upon this, Chester was not my sponsor into Kingsman. I'm sure you've noticed by now how uncompromising he can be when he has an opinion. And he has many. 'The day Lancelot died, Eggsy, Arthur attempted to make me see how foolish my previous choice of candidate had been. Made a disparaging comment about choosing a "more suitable candidate" and I will happily admit to wanting him to take a long walk off a short pier.' Eggsy snorted a laugh, relaxing despite himself. 'Didn't know you had it in you, Haz.' The nickname was becoming a bad habit, but it wasn't as if Harry were here to correct him. 'I resisted stating as much, but when he tried to make light of your father's sacrifice... I called him a snob, and told him that there was a reason aristocrats developed weak chins. With respect, of course.' Holo-Harry smiled, eyes glazed over as if caught in a pleasant memory, as Eggsy chuckled from behind his hand. Imagining Harry being a shit to his boss was one thing, but having evidence (or whatever the words of a technological ghost were considered) that he actually had been... Eggsy couldn't help but smile fondly at the Harry-That-Was sitting before him. 'I'd have paid to see that.' 'Merlin can likely obtain a copy of that footage- it happened in the Dining Room, certainly not exempt from surveillance. Alternatively, it's also in my personal terminal somewhere, which you have access to as we're obviously interacting at this moment.' 'You was a shit, weren't you, Haz?'

'I was not always entirely gentlemanly, no- but I knew when to push and when to leave things be. At least, that's what I tell myself when I find I'm in circumstances that could have been avoided by keeping my mouth shut. If I've put myself there, there is a reason and it is worth it. I seldom say much without meaning it.'

Eggsy was simultaneously elated and despondent, the words having brought two distinct moments to mind, unsurprisingly. I see a young man with potential. (Can't you see that everything I've done has been about trying to repay him?) And which one was the truth, then? Did he go by what Harry had said most recently? Had Harry seen potential in him at first, only for Eggsy to fuck it up by not noticing the blank? Would Harry have ever acknowledged Eggsy's accomplishments as his own, instead of some warped echo of his father's potential? 'But that's getting a bit far from the topic. Which, yes, there is in fact a purpose here, Eggsy. I came to the realisation a few days ago that, for all that I know about you, you don't know that much about me. It's something that would have been rectified with time, had I not ended up in a coma and had actually spent your candidacy conscious and present. Or after you had become Lancelot as I was rightfully sure you would.' There was a now-familiar pang in Eggsy's chest. 'Unfortunately, as we sit here having this admittedly one-sided conversation, it's plain to see that we did not get that time. So, I have decided to impart to you what I felt was worth mentioning here. Certainly an unconventional use of Merlin's technology, but not an immoral one. 'I digress, today I've sat here to tell you about my life before Kingsman- the man behind the mask, as it were.' 'I know enough, Haz- I know you from Merlin's drunken ramblin' and your fucking stuffed dog and the old footage I've been going through on your laptop. Yeah, maybe I added some shit here an' there in my head but I knew you- maybe not as much as I wanted to, or as well, but enough.' 'I met the previous Bedivere by happenstance at one of the incredibly boring functions my father expected me to attend. In retrospect he likely expected me to eventually set aside my differences with Arthur and conform to the conventions of that life- which both happened and didn't.' The hologram continued, luckily not talking through Eggsy but not acknowledging that he had spoken beyond the pause.

'I went to university to study Entomology, I've always found the process of pinning insects fascinating, and intended to look into museum work. Curating seemed to be as far from the posh life my father wished for me to enjoy, which pleased my rebellious side. It happened that my obsessive knowledge of insects saved Bedivere from something or other- I don't recall the details, it was a number of years ago- and when the Galahad position became available he named me as his candidate.' A slow smirk curled itself at the edge of Harry's mouth, and Eggsy could easily visualise him steepling his hands as he leant forward onto the table. 'You can only imagine the look on poor Arthur's- Lamorak, at the time- face when I won. Unfortunately there is no footage- as ahead of the times as Kingsman always is, there are limits.'

'I got the feeling it's the opposite of the face he made when I fucked up the last test. Like, he drank half a glass of sour milk and can't bring himself to sick it up, or something.' 'Needless to say it was the highlight of my life until that point. I could probably form a fully corporeal patronus with that alone.' 'You read the Potter books? Thought you was too old for that.' 'Eggsy, you'd be hard pressed to find something I would refuse to read. They were only a global phenomena, and there was a limit to how many "you're a wizard, Harry!" jokes I could take from James before picking the damn things up. Don't let Percival's stoic demeanour fool you- he's just as awful as his husband was. You just don't think he could be the culprit.' 'You sound like a conspiracy theorist- you gonna tell me the moon doesn't exist or something?' 'Fine. Don't believe me. I certainly won't be there to help you undo whatever he decides upon for you. And Roxy's friendship will not grant you mercy. You'll see.'

'Sure, Haz. If you say so.' Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#dagonet writes #Kingsman #kingsman: the secret service #echoes fic

8 notes · View notes