Gyre
by SMYGO4EVA
Death proved to be the only constant in a warrior's life. Whether it was another life lost, or doing themselves in, death was inevitable. It was the difference between fighting for the sheer hell of it, and for a seemingly eternal war. Lancer knew that as fact. Even when he fought for glory and all it was worth, he knew it would all catch up with him soon, and he steeled himself forward without any hesitation.
Rider walked through her new existence like a wraith, with her eyes masked and her chains dragging behind her. She carried with her a silent look on her face, for it hid the tragedy in her eyes. It was a mask that she was all too familiar with, a second skin. She found herself, her gaze drawn to the others like her, intrigued by the daggers and sneers she wore like armor.
Though this proved to be much more than she could take on, after having fought him countless times, Rider felt in tune with Lancer, with his form, the way he moved and how he blocked every attack with his crimson spear. She sensed within him that he knew how her body moved now. From then on, kissing him right on the lips felt like the most natural thing in the world.
He kissed her back fiercely. She barely heard the clatter of his spear dropping beside her own blade, the chains encircling them.
In this uncertainty of this conflict, this conflict promised nothing but blood, hatred and despair, Rider knew that this could be a lone moment that she couldn't bear to part from, even with an enemy Servant. Her heart only drummed faster, excitement fluttering through her, not the same but wonderful nonetheless. This was only for now, just one moment caught in time, and at least she could walk away with a smile. It was this carnal memory of Lancer that she would carry with her, and his arms wrapped tightly around her body, drawing her close to his chest.
They both tumbled onto the fight-streaked ground, rolling together, him kissing her until she was breathless. She pushed her fingers into his ponytail, her legs wrapping around his waist, and his hips bucked against her, making Rider shiver and nip playfully at his bottom lip. Lancer fully intended to make her moan his name, as he inhaled the scent of her desire, the taste of her on his tongue and their fingers laced together.
Rider never intended to let her guard down. She didn't completely thaw for him, as the poison in her veins ever present. She was born from the same sense of loss that haunted Lancer well. But she softened, having been long denied, and welcomed his company with sincerity.
Lancer kissed her again, with more passion, more ferocity. Rider melted against him with the softest moans. This was all they had, amidst the fighting and the buried howling from the Holy Grail War, for the fall, the misery. A lesson they wished they never learned so well.
Their bodies moved together, familiar and oh so wonderful, a much-needed respite before it would all come crashing down in the gyre. They couldn't save each other from their pasts, but in doom, everyone was welcome there.