He was a king – worshiped by all, corrupt in soul, beautiful and eternal.
She was a king – loved by all, a lone wolf, brilliant, her image a fragile, powerful butterfly shining her light on the battlefield.
Bathed from head to toe in a glamorous gold, he strides through the torn up arena – his presence arrogant and willful. Out of the corner of his eye he spots her, casually glances over, and cocks his head slightly. Suddenly the king of heroes finds himself at the edge of the world, entranced by her beauty and power, pinned to the atmosphere around him by her brilliance. His dark velvet eyes gleam in the night, his smile wide and dangerous. She senses him looming above her, slightly taken back, as resolve hardens in her eyes and she glares back.
Eiyuu ou. her clear voice pierces through the foggy night as she holds his stare, determined.
He chuckles to himself, a deep and throaty sound. If anyone was worthy of standing upon the same ground as he, to walk the same thorny path, to seek pleasure in the depths of his universe, it was surely her. Lazily, he turns on his heel and swaggers off, leaving behind traces of his light, rivaling that of the stardust in the infinite galaxy.
She blinks, confused. Standing in the dull light of the town lampposts, she assesses her own damage from her previous battle and wonders. What could he have wanted?
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In her past life, she was a young girl who challenged prejudices against her own sex, a loyal and faithful server of her people. King of knights, Arturia, Arthur Pendragon, Commander of the Round Tables, lost little girl. Her last title was a slap in the face by an aged king who tired of hearing her ramble on and on about ideals that led to her ruin.
Rider, she growls. Have you no shame? How can a king be if he does not fulfill the needs of his people?
Beside her, the king of heroes throws his head back and roars in laughter. His earrings glimmering in the night, he tilts his head forward and stares her down, completely and utterly amused. Rider was right, she is not the king she claimed to be. Surely no sane king would regret the path he led his subjects toward. No, she was no king, he mused silently. Fascinating and helpless, yes. Lost in her own delusions. All the more reason to want her, to hunger for her, see her forced into submission by his hands. See her relinquish her stubborn title and lose herself in his arms.
King? You are a lost little girl, no more a king than my own useless master here, Rider spits, gesturing to the very useless young lad laying face first on the ground. You must first care for yourself. How could a king be if he does not bring about the envy, the love of his people? He must be more powerful than any, feel more pain than any, laugh louder than any, love harder than any one of his people.
Those are the words of a tyrant! she exclaims, in hopeless anger. He shakes his head at her, disappointed.
Saber, you may have saved your subjects, but you never led them. I was wrong about you...you are not fit to feast in the banquet of the kings, Rider turns his head, regretting his decision to call upon her attention. The king of conquerors stands, in all his glory, and rides off into the night.
Do not pay his words any attention, Gilgamesh exhales. She looks up, her eyes searching for an anchor. Instead, he sneers, Just keep following your code of honor until your bitter end. And with that, the king of heroes exits the banquet without so much as a final glance.
She is left to reflect on her own broken ideals - lost in thought as the harsh truth pulls her spirit down and the world swallows her up.
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When they meet again, he is battling the lost beast Berserker – an intense showdown between light and dark, the age old question of social hierarchy heavy on his golden armored shoulders. He swoops down, the beast roars and follows, meters behind him and yet always on his heels. They fly, soar, cutting through the cold air with their machines at impossible speeds.
You distasteful mongrel. He growls, bearing pearl white teeth, hatred turning his eyes blood red. A cacophony of sounds emit from the maddened Berserker as he turns his jet plane, drowning in his own dark madness, and soars headfirst into the wings of Gilgamesh's Vimana.
Dethroned, he studies the rest of the battle from the top of the bridge. Anger boils inside of him but he isn't petty enough a king to chase a mongrel. So he stays and observes his fair-skinned beauty as she glides on the surface of the water, covered in blood and fear.
Easily dodging, attacking fairly and just, she dances with hell itself as it tries, and fails, to wrap its tentacles around her armor. Enamored, his eyes hungrily take in the sight of her as she twirls her body with grace, every step engraved in his mind, her impeccable technique allowing her to avoid death by a hairbreadth, her spirit easily overpowering the small nimble body she was cursed with.
When she releases Excalibur, sending the world into a state of light, binding and blinding the eyes of all those who stand witness, he knows. He knows that there can be no other for him – neither in the wretched human world nor the heavens above.
She is quite beautiful, he announces to Rider. A fitting queen for a king.
Rider merely stares back, dazed and disgruntled as the king of heroes steps out of the night, his dark laughter heavily cloaking the atmosphere.
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Their last meeting, he pierces through her leg with his sword, reveling in her cries of pain.
Become my wife, he proclaims in a commanding, no-nonsense voice. All the world is mine. Submit yourself to me and you will have all the world offers – to your heart's desire.
Don't insult me, she barks back, disgusted. As if the king of knights would allow herself to be looked down upon in such a way. Her ocean teal eyes stormy, she raises her sword in defiance. Her rejection is nothing but an affirmation, music to his ears. In his past life there was no woman who could ever defy him - out of lust for his perfect sculpture, greed for his riches or fear of his wrath. And here she was. Angry, humiliated, immaculate, positively radiating. Her defensive stance the picture of perfection. It'd be all too easy if he'd actually attained her.
Your face twisted in pain is rather enjoyable, his voice a smooth tenor. He smirks. Dance for me, Saber. Let yourself drown in your honor before my swords. Only then will you see why you should have stood by me instead.
Blood trickling down her chin, Saber charges forward and imagines slicing through his golden armor with her sword, tasting victory so close, so near, all too real, when -
Destroy the grail, Saber.
Her master's voice echoes in her head, his commanding spell grips her soul and moves her body, even as she screams in protest, WHY, KIRITSUGU?
Then, in one quick motion, the world is pulled down, taking the two heroes with it, crushing, falling, tumbling, dying.
As he falls, he catches a single glimpse of her, her face in shock and disbelief as she cries, feeling nothing and everything at the same time. He yearns to hold her against him, to shower her in his heat, to have shielded her in the very beginning from a cruel fate she could not escape.
And then, there is only darkness.
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In the end, there were only two heroes.
She was a glimpse of a radiant light in the cave of shadows.
He was a powerful ray, eternally luminous.
She was the king of knights, bound to her fate by the chains of her past - a strong willed and fragile girl.
He was the king of heroes, unmatched in power and wealth, and nothing less.
He was the king of heroes.
And he yearned for his broken queen.
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This was a short little something I wrote out of love for the Fate/Zero anime series! So excited to have ufotable remake the sequel, Fate/stay night. Who's with me? (○´∀`)
Feedback is much appreciated!
