TheThirdTime'sACharm: So, been wanting to read a neat fanfic about my two fav Fate/Zero characters, Lancer and Saber, buuuuut was saddened to see how few there were. I know Gil and Arty are a popular pairing but, eh, I liked Diarmuid better. So instead of complaining about the lack of love for this pairing I decided to change my tone and just write a fanfic about them. Thing is . . . I wanted this to be a longshot but it turned out TOO long and so now it's a multichapter fic, this of course will be why the chapters are so oneshot-ish, sorry but that's how I've written it.
I've written a ton of this fic now so I'll be uploading the chapters fairly fast (if I don't suddenly drop dead or anythin'), but thoughts and love would be wonderful for this fic. It's my first so I hope you guys will like it. It's somewhat set in the medieval times so their dialogue is based after so, but not too too much. Well, I've tried. Please enjoy my first Fate/Zero fanfic!
She was their queen and they couldn't ask for more. Even when neighboring kingdoms insisted that a land should be ruled by male heirs, her faithful subjects feared no change of mind because she was great and they would easily stand by her side should those "male heirs" try to prove their dominance with their puny armies.
With endurance and long suffering, Queen Altria proved herself time and time again and in adulthood she became the ruler over the whole land, beside the isle from the west. Even so, they no longer have qualms with that kingdom resting closest, in fact, a number of knights from the emerald isle have sworn fealty to Queen Altria and these noble knights speak for the isle and continue to show its ongoing peace with the wise and young queen. Out of all the knights from the emerald isle, none adores the queen as closely as Diarmuid Ua Duibhne whom had sworn his services to the queen years before any peace between the isles had commenced. He would always fight closest to her side and just like any other knight—would take a wound for her.
"HAH!" Altria cried out as she thrust her sword down into the enemy and let his red liquid turn the beach and its waters a crimson color. Once the soldier's motions relaxed, so did Altria. Wiping the sweat off of her brow she turned her head upward and watched with a small smile she covered well as her most boisterous knight swung his two spears free of blood and walked toward her.
"What did you think of the battle, queen?" he asked, that bright smile on his lips, bearing white teeth as his lips pulled taut apart.
"What battle?" she answered back, turning to motion toward the fallen soldiers around. "These men I would hardly call warriors, what with the way they bore nothing but their backs toward us."
Her lancer only threw his head back and his laughter, being as contagious as always, sparked the other knights around to burst out in voluminous laughter. Victories always brought on a mood among queen and her knights. She couldn't deny them the joy and pride of knowing they defended their land and people well. Just as long as they never ached for war and battle, Altria never grieved them with scolding words.
"Well then, my knights," Altria smiled, all knowing of what she was about to speak next. "The feast hall awaits your presence, and I fear the castle longs for its queen. Let us mount our steeds and return."
In unison her knights rose their weapons and let out a victorious battle cry, a job well done and over. Making their way uphill, toward their horses, Queen Altria found her soul in content at listening to the lighthearted jests of her men and took ease in the fact that she had lost no knight in the fight. Ever since her 18th birth year her kingdom had grown considerably and peace with their neighboring isle had helped them stack up defenses on the beaches to the south and east, as well as posts and docks in the west.
"My lady, should you need a lift to mount your stallion?" Altria focused her mind this time on her closest knight, the one she was trying to figure if he were an insulting adolescent, or merely a lovingly pestering brother-like friend. Altria of course would never give herself a straight answer for the simple fun of weighing the two options.
With an ease as any other knight, the queen swung her body up and mounted the much taller animal with ease, looking down at the dark-haired man who had actually taken the time to lean over and offer his hands as a stepping ladder. With another nose-thrust into the air, Altria planted her armored foot onto the man's firm chest and gave him an unbalancing kick, watching in secret glee as he tumbled to the ground and landed in the wet sand. The sounds of loud laughter never disheartened anyone's spirit and so it didn't dishearten Diarmuid.
The raven haired man threw his head back and laughed toward the cloudy skies above. Opening his amber eyes he looked up toward his queen and caught that smile on her lips before she turned her steed and began to lead her men back home. "Come, Diarmuid. Enough playing in the sand, we all wish to return home."
This is why Queen Altria was loved by so many and hated by so few; she had a heart that longed to understand her subjects, given from the highest noble, to the poorest peasant. Being born a female put her in a disposition and she understands this, but because of this she is the hardest working citizen in her kingdom and nothing could stop her from continuing her strive to make her kingdom a better and safer place and giving her people the happiness she has promised them as their ruler.
The only reason for anyone to hate her, for the few who did, was the fact she was born a woman and changed the reign from male bloodlines to that of female. Those of the old way would eventually fade away because Altria was on a rise to Heaven and with numerous supporters, nothing would be able to stop her.
That was all her men wanted her to know.
"Hey, Queen—do you remember your fifteenth birthday?"
Altria closed her eyes and rubbed her blistered palms as she sat in the comfort of her throne, her gown falling gracefully against the curves of the seat. "I should think it best you refer to me more honorably, Diarmuid; especially in my presence."
The man simply smiled but nodded. "Do you use that tone with Lancelot, Altria?" A wary eye was the only warning the knight received from his queen. With a shrug of his arms and an incline of his chin he asked, "do you remember or not?"
"Of course I do . . . how could I forget?" Altria looked down at her bruised hands, she thought about having someone send for the leather dresser to fit better gloves for her armor, but she had been asked a question and so she should answer as any gentleman would do. "I'm certain I am not the only one who remembers. As I recall, you and Lancelot and even Gawain were there. Why do you bring that subject up?"
"That right there." Altria blinked in confusion before noticing the knight's index finger pointing toward her and when she looked down to see what he might be aiming toward he simply told her, "That smile. That smile of triumph. I never get tired of seeing it. That was the day you decided to become supreme ruler of this land. Granted the attacks from the opposing kingdoms from the west and north did take its toll on us, you led us through and paved the way for your reign."
"No, it was my knights who did," Altria admitted with a soft smile. "Without your loyalty I would never have been able to unite this kingdom under one crown." A soft gasp escaped Altria's lips upon the feel of something poking her brow. Looking up, she noticed that Diarmuid had taken the time to close the distance between them in her time of reminiscence. His calloused finger pressed ever so slightly into her pale skin as if trying to drive something into her skull.
"You're doubting again, Altria. How many times must we tell you to stop and remember your leadership?" Altria smiled and moved the knight's hand away from her face. Of course Diarmuid only let it fall onto the armrest of the throne next to Altria's wrist as if in a teasing manner. "Must you continuously jester in a flirtatious manner, Diarmuid? Honestly, what would the others think?" Diarmuid stifled a chuckle—probably due to the fact of how monotonous his queen had just stated her sentences.
"Come on, this castle could use a little scandal," was the lancer's answer with an attractive wink that just didn't affect his queen. The blond however only closed her eyes and leaned back in her throne. "Away, Diarmuid."
"Yes, milady." The knight returned to his post near the left corner of the throne room, occasionally throwing lighthearted glances her way. It was something the two had done since Altria could remember. Diarmuid was one of her first knights—but a mere boy when she first met him.
He had come from the neighboring isle in a small rowboat about ready to capsize once it crashed into shore. She hadn't seen him when he arrived on her isle, but she heard accounts from those who first beheld him of how worn he had been and tattered from the long journey in the small boat. But that hadn't deterred his mission to find the ruler of the land—which she happened to newly be—and challenge them in fight and prove their worthiness. She remembered how worn he looked when he came before her, he looked malnourished and looked as if ready to faint, but no matter what she insisted the young man persisted in a fight with her and so she had no choice but to heed his wishes.
In the beginning of the battle, Altria recalls her surprise and amazement as the fires of the battle to come sparked life within the young warrior and it's as if he had rested for a full 40 nights to prepare for this battle. She had never seen such a young yet experienced, and on fire, man who lived for the thrill of steel clashing against steel and blood and sweat dripping to the ground. Of course Altria was quick to notice the kin spirit they both shared—chivalry, it was a good spirit to have upon one's self when a warrior one wished to be. With that kindred light she easily accepted the warrior and knighted him without hesitation . . . and in return, he held nothing back when he bent on one knee and bowed his head toward her and swore his life and the life of his spears to her crown.
Since then, this man was her first knight and after him quickly followed Lancelot and the others. Of course in the beginning of her reign she had taken soldiers into her rule from her father, but they were quick to betray her and on the eve of her 15th birthday they attempted to overthrow her, and they might have done so . . . if she hadn't had so faithful knights who bled and died for her.
She had lost many of her loyal subjects and barely escaped the castle with her life had not Lancelot reared the Calvary and had Diarmuid take her to the tower to leap from. Honestly a broken leg wasn't so bad and of course she had to wait until she healed to rally up her faithful subjects to get her kingdom back, but the wait wasn't so bad . . . especially when she was healing and waiting right beside Diarmuid who had broken the same leg.
In a way, one could say those were the "good ole times" when in reality it was Altria's darkest years. After she had gained her castle back and killed her uprisers, war from the west came and it took three long years of grief and sorrow before they recognized her as sovereign ruler and left her shores with tidings of peace. She had been worn to the bone but more importantly, her knights—especially Diarmuid who had slain many a friend from his homeland for the sake and duty to his sworn queen.
It had been hard to order the lancer, as his queen, to forget about the friends he had slain or the land from which he had come from, but it was necessary or else the man would forever dwell on the woes of those dark years. A knight should be clear of ill thought and so Altria made sure he did as sworn to. So, with bended knee, the foreign knight became as one born in her own land. His loyalty for his queen thus proven and his mind brightened. Of course Lancelot and the others helped brighten his mood like the brothers in arms they are—Altria tried to tell herself, her intervention was little compared to the other knights, but one could never know how the affected felt toward those helping him.
For all those years of darkness, Altria knew she wouldn't trade them for anything. In those years she became close to her knights and they understood their queen and her leadership. All of them were diamonds and in those years of war were they carved and shaped to the most precious gems as she sees them now. All of them, Lancelot, Gawain, Diarmuid, Bedivere, and the others, all of them were Altria's precious jewels that she wouldn't trade the world for.
Looking at her knights who aligned her hall, each standing in position in stance they saw fit—she smiled and realized that they had each grown in stature, each baring thicker bones and sterner muscles from battles and wars past. They were indeed the personification of the ideal warriors and Altria took pride that they were her warriors, all sworn to her kingdom. There was no greater a feeling than the pride she felt in her men.
Still . . . 18 years, 10 months, and 4 days into her life and Queen Altria realized how rapidly life could change. At the mere age of 13 her father had passed away and forced the Kingdom upon her, of course as if running it wasn't difficult enough she got a foreigner appearing before her and challenging her swordsmanship. That battle never had resolved and Altria always wished it would have—but life had quickly caught up with her and with her knights and now look at her, already a woman.
You know, around this age one would think to invest into finding a husband.
"A king?" Sir Gawain looked confused at the simple wording of the question. Tapping his chin in thought, he turned toward a few other knights behind him as if searching for an answer from one of them. Every single man simply rolled their shoulders in a shrug and so the knight sighed in defeat. "Honestly I've never thought about such notions. I've been with the Queen for a long while and she seems perfect just the way she is."
But this same question continued, on to other knights . . .
"Our queen is perfectly capable of ruling a kingdom without the presence of a patriarch," Lancelot answered while sharpening his sword. "I would, however, like to know the name of those who started asking this question."
This was one such reaction out of the knights and for a while the question was brought down to a hush and other accusations such as the knights were actually the true rulers, forcing a poor girl onto the throne in means to control the female. However, that was shot down as well.
"Look at our kingdom. What more blessing could we receive if we were to add a king?" Bedivere asked, motioning around them as a cool breeze brushed through his hair. With a soft smile upon his lips, he looked at those asking this of him. "I do not believe that even a king could have accomplished such a peace. Don't doubt our queen. She doesn't doubt any of you."
The question hadn't meant to be hateful or to strike up a rebellion. It was simply curiosity and when one observes neighboring kingdoms and finds only kings upon the throne, one might wonder why their land is ruled so differently. Though, much to the knights tries, they willed the people to see that there was certainly no need of a king, not when their crowned sovereign has done so much for them—be them male or female.
Their kingdom was certainly the strongest isle kingdom and thus far they have defeated pompous raiders wishing to cross their shores and hurt the citizens. The people were safe thanks to their queen and no king could have done any better at defending one's land and people than Queen Altria.
And in such a peaceful time, one couldn't help but want to ease their defensive mind and senses.
"Hey, Altria, did you hear what questions have been going around?" Diarmuid received a good wet and sharp splat to the face from a rough fabric that better not have been a loincloth. "Would you show our Queen some more respect, starting with better toned addresses?" Lancelot asked while he ripped the cloth away from the dark-haired man's face who coughed at the impact and then eyed him dangerously.
"Come on, we're not in front of any peasant or noble! I can be as informal as I like, besides, our dear queen says she doesn't mind, right?" He turned with a puppy smile toward the woman addressed; she was currently striped down to her linen dress and finishing taking off her last shoe. She looked up at her men with bright green eyes and shook her head.
"At ease, the both of you. Diarmuid's right. Right now, right here . . . I'm one of you."
One might think it crude, if not downright disgraceful for a king, much less a queen to stoop down to the level of her knights, intending to drink with them, laugh with them, even bathe with them. But she had known many of these knights before her since she was at the age of 13 and viewed many like a brother if not an older cousin. Nothing was secret between them and she had no shame in uncovering her nakedness to be with them while they splashed around in their cleansing spring that only her innermost loyal companions knew of.
The spring, glowing an unnatural blue in the light of the moon above had a small fount of rocks. The water would trickle down and one could stand under it if they wished to let it rain upon their head. The pond, for the most part was fairly deep, a good 7 feet, enough for an easy swim around. The fish that dwelt within were all so small and yet all so beautiful and bright, they usually never disturbed the knights from their cleansing and the knights never threatened the little ones' lives.
This was their secret place where they all gathered together once every month to cleanse themselves and commune with one another, forming stronger bonds and closer brotherhoods, but of course this place was where they saw their queen the truest—a fellow knight, a fellow gentleman; their sister and yet their brother as well.
Most knights thought about this in kind. None harbored any malicious or devious feelings toward their queen, especially not in this moment, when she opened herself up to them and bathed with them like a fellow man. At first, this had been common for her because of how much she resembled a young boy at the age of 13, but she bid these get-togethers not cease even when womanhood forced itself upon her and breasts developed upon her small body. She trusted her knights to view her body and not think any ill towards it, like she did them . . . but, secretly, she feared her jealousy of their thicker forms and toned muscle to reveal itself and she prayed to God this wasn't counted as a sin of hers.
"Are you having trouble, milady?" Altria turned; face becoming more red with frustration. She blushed when she noticed her knight, Bedivere standing just right behind her, looking to help her. "I know it sounds ridiculous but I cannot loosen this lace. You men have nothing so complicated as women do in gowns."
Bedivere just smiled and caught sight of the problem and immediately went to work at it. "Ah, a knot. You are right, Altria—I've never seen anything get so tangled so many times than the laces of a lady's dress."
The queen chuckled and waited for the knight to solve the problem, but after a good couple of minutes she turned to look over her shoulder and became surprised at the unusual sight of Bedivere's red face. Looks like the knot was too tight. "Forgive me, I don't know how the knot even came to pass," Altria admitted with a blush.
"What's wrong here? You guys are taking forever over here." At the mere sound of his voice, Altria's shoulders slumped and she let out a sigh. Knowing him, he's going to try and untie the knot himself but of course he'll come to the same conclusion Bedivere has. "Diarmuid, just join the others. We'll have this problem fixed soon."
"How soon, 2 hours from now? That's just not going to cut it, but this will." Altria went to jerk herself around for fear of what her oh-so-loyal knight would attempt to do. Sometimes . . . his ideas weren't the brightest.
Before Altria could protest to anything, Bedivere was pushed aside and . . . the lace was cut loose. "DIARMUID!" Altria cried out in such a higher pitch that all her knights about went deaf in that moment. Her linen dress fell down her shoulders, but of course her natural instincts caught the fabric before exposing her breasts. She turned and glared fire at the short spear of Diarmuid's that just so happened to be in his hand with traces of defiled fabric hanging off of it. "This dress was expensive!"
The dark-haired knight only smiled that smile he knew would always get him out of trouble with the ladies . . . but not this lady.
"You have plenty of riches to buy another of its kind," Diarmuid tried to defend himself while he watched in a slowly paling face as his queen made her way over toward her sword. "Hey, hey, if it meant that much to you, I'll buy you another one!"
Altria stopped herself once her hand met the hilt of her sword. Her mood suddenly calmed itself and when she turned to look at her knight she sighed. "This linen dress, though simple in design, was a gift from the tailor's wife."
"Oh, Myreade?" Diarmuid asked. "I'm sorry again; I swear I'll get you a new one."
"Leave her alone, Diarmuid," the knights lounging in the pond called out. "She's just upset because that was the only dress that fit her!" A loud burst of laughter full of "ooohhh's!" and "Awwww's!" went up into the night air and of course the reaction they had gotten out of their queen was worth more than any gold or silver.
Altria's face had become the brightest shade of red possible, her green eyes were so much easier to see when her face glew like that, of course after this reaction they all knew she'd burst and insult them back. That's just how they were.
"HOW DARE YOU MAKE FUN OF MY BREASTS, YOU VILE HEATHENS!" With that battle cry the queen let her ruined linen dress fall and rushed right into the springs, jumping into the water and grabbing at whichever knight was closest to her. All of course were too busy laughing to attempt an escape and so many ended up in the queen's abnormally strong arm hold choking to death. "Whoever said it was your apple-sized bosom?" "Tis true, one could have suggested your deflated sacks of wine for a backside!"
Altria cried out at the insult and simply took to splashing at any knight with their mouths hanging open from the laughter they continued spitting against her. Drowning them was the second best thing. But Altria's laughter was heard among the other knights and in that they connected their souls.
It was in these small moments, where Altria could get away from being queen and instead being a fellow brother among her family. Here, there were no formalities, here, she could be insulted and made fun of, but here she could do the same with the others; nothing professional about it, just bonding. And Altria swore she would do this for years to come.
Turning 19 in just one month hadn't looked so promising to Altria as a queen . . . or as a knight.
"What? !" Altria's eyes were just as wide as her other subjects in the room. What they were hearing was unbelievable and coming so soon to them . . . it was just unheard of.
"But that docking post was one of the most heavily guarded! How can it have been destroyed so fast? Where are the enemy ships anyways?" Altria continued to stay silent and let her counselors speak in behalf of her for the moment. The messenger seemed so afraid and by the state of his attire, it looked as if he had just walked from a burning building.
"We do not know. The ships came and then they left," he answered, looking down at his shaking fingers.
"Hold still." Lancelot stepped forward and tried to place reason back into this conversation. "A docking post it may have been, but one would have to actually come onto shore to destroy it, unless they try hurling objects from their ships at the post, but that would again prove impossible for any seaman because of the rocks jagging the shallows. That docking post was one of the most secured by men and by nature."
"Then, sir knight, why don't you go and look upon the remains of the post and return and tell me the same!" the messenger cried out, tears running down his face. "I lost my wife in that attack. She had been with child, our first, now I return to you alone! So tell me again how secure that post was!"
"At ease, good sir." Everyone's head turned toward the queen upon her throne. She was looking at the horrified watchman who had just laid out what he had seen upon their ears. Her commanding words seemed to cease his trembles, but his tears continued. She smiled softly before closing her eyes and saying, "You have my deepest condolence from the loss of your wife and child, as well as my utmost thanks for trudging onward and coming forth to tell us what you have seen. Granted I do promise you and those lost that the docking post will be the last to fall. I will send out searchers for the ships and will immediately declare a no-sail zone in our waters, even among our allies."
"You have to stop them, my queen," the watchman said, his tears running down hot with anger as his eyes burned into those of his queen's. "You mustn't let our time of peace come under threat!"
"I swear this to you and the rest of my people," Queen Altria said as she placed both hands onto the hilt of her sword she held before her. "I will achieve peace, no matter what!"
Altria hadn't known the horror to come as her words broke apart and her promises vanished into thin air. She had rebuilt the docking post and sent more soldiers, but once again it was destroyed as well as four others. Again it was the same as before . . . the ships came and then vanished as if never there. No one came ashore and the ships never got too close to the rocky shallows. They were described as throwing boulders of fire at the docks and each time it struck many men were buried to death under them.
The queen was running out of options, she had no choice and so she sent one of her closest knights to a docking post suggested to be struck soon. He had brought along a few of his own trainees and waited at the post for the attack.
"It is good to see you here, lord Bedivere," the watchmen announced as they helped the knight off his stead and took in his belongings. "I was assured you would be able to find these devil ships and bring them down."
"That's if we get hit," Bedivere explained, smiling at the men. "I pray and hope we don't but you can never tell with these uncertain times. But I shall serve you to my best and protect this post with my life."
"Those words are assurance enough for us, my lord," they said, slamming their fists to their chests and bowing low.
They left the knight to himself and watched on in silence as he surveyed the area. He took note of how few rocks there were in these shallows. "Hm, it will be easy to scale land here, but will they do it?" Once again he took in the docking post and noticed that the watchmen were afraid, despite his words they trembled. He couldn't blame them; the fear of this invisible fleet set fear even to those living furthest inland. He knew he had to do something, and soon.
"Might I ask for a small boat to be planted there?" The knight pointed toward a looming cliff right before the bay. "If any ship came they'd have to get close to the bay in order to attack the post. It would be my best chance to board a ship if I and a few of my men could wait there."
"As you wish, my lord," the watchmen said and provided them thus much.
It had been a Wednesday when it happened. Evening was just breaking the day and the very moment the sun had set, the black sails appeared. When the alarm sounded, the ships lurched their first fiery boulder. It landed into the bay and tore off a wooden fence border. Men were shouted and yelling and scrambling to their positions. Bedivere had stayed in the small boat by the cape of the bay all afternoon and expected an attack by night. He was right.
He remained quiet with three of his men as he heard the ships nearing the bay. He could see the large objects falling onto the docking post and ripping it to shreds. His men clung tight to him and begged him to return to the post and help the watchmen escape their pending doom. "No, we must wait for a ship to draw closer." That was his command and they obeyed. However unbearable, Sir Bedivere persisted and waited for a ship's helm to poke into the bay, next to his waiting boat.
"NOW!" he commanded and all three of his men kicked off the cliff wall, ramming the small boat against the ship and just as they had they hurled a hooked ladder up Bedivere was first aboard and with sword in hand he struck down the first seaman he saw. Once the blood was spilled the rest of the slain man's ship mates turned on him, but it didn't matter, his other three comrades were already on board, slaying as many of the black dressed men as possible. When the knight finally took the time to take in his enemies appearance he paused. What unusual people—each one of them was wearing black and a white, skull-like helmet was placed upon their brow. They looked to be demons come forth from Hell.
"Do not spare any of them," Bedivere ordered, raising his sword and bringing it down upon a foe, splitting his head open with a single cleave.
The four had fought until their arms began to weigh, but just as they slew the last of the vile creatures, the ship rocked forward, slamming into the ship they stood upon, splintering it to pieces. Two of Bedivere's men fell between the cracks of the ship and were crushed in the bows. The other laid near Bedivere and clung onto the mast.
"Are they mad? !" Bedivere heard his student shout as the ship continued to plow through them. "They're to sink themselves!"
Remaining silent would bring the knight to his death and so he turned toward his student and told him exactly what to do. "We must jump onto that ship. It's the only way or we'll be crushed!"
The other looked afraid, but Bedivere knew they had no other option if they were going to try to live. With the moaning and the snapping the ship was about to fall to pieces. Just as Bedivere determined, the two jumped and landed onto the other ship, there they were met with knives and swords. Bedivere managed to block the attacks, but his student was punctured in the neck and would die within the minute. He regretted having the man jump to meet his death in such a way, but he had no other choice.
Raising his sword, Bedivere lopped off three heads of those warriors nearest him, but they seemed to keep coming from below. As the knight cleared a path for himself he saw the fleet hidden in the fog. There were hundreds of ships; it was no wonder why they would sacrifice one of their ships to enter the bay. Bedivere had never seen so many in a fleet before and he wondered just how many demons lay in their bellies.
I mustn't let them enter the bay. If they come ashore here they might attack on land. There's too many and we're not ready! Bedivere knew what he had to do. He turned and made his way to the helm that was currently unguarded. He turned the ship and caused it to push against the ruined ship against it so agonizingly that it snapped in half and stuck them against the cape, blocking the bay.
"AH!" Bedivere lurched over the helm once that ice cold pain shot through his body. The feeling originated in his side and when he turned to look at it, he watched as a wounded warrior reached up, blade in hand and pressed it into his side, twisting and turning it to make the wound fatal. Biting his lip, the knight felt other blades press into his body and when he looked around he saw nothing but skulls staring at him, overpowering him. But at least they wouldn't be getting into the bay soon.
"You cannot stop us, warrior. Once your docking posts are destroyed, we move inland!" They seemed to all say in unison like a choir of voices. Bedivere felt them trying to pry him off the helm, but he wouldn't move. He coughed and felt something warm fall down his cold lips. It was the crimson of his own blood. He couldn't speak any longer; his throat was choking on the liquid.
God . . . save my country . . . save my people . . . and protect my queen.
When he looked up he watched with amazement as fire reigned from the heavens and everything turned to dust.
It had been a long time since the kingdom has lost any knight and a great mourning was wrought about the land once the news of Sir Bedivere's death fell upon every ear. None had known what had become of the knight until his body washed up shore near a docking post further south. On his body it was clear the blades were still embedded. Also a note was given to the dead and taken and read to the queen.
"We are many, we are strong, and we shall kill every last living being in the land when we march abroad." The counselor sighed. "Nothing else is said in the letter."
"They're trying to scare us," Lancelot noted, looking toward his queen who remained calm and collected at the news of one of her closest knight's death. "We fear no one but God Himself. Are they higher than the Heavenly Being?"
"But they killed Bedivere!" Everyone turned toward Diarmuid who had stepped out of position to speak his concerns. "We need to take them to their graves! That's a declaration of war; what they did!"
"We would all like to kill those heathens," Lancelot stated, looking at the other knights whose grips were considerably tight upon their weapons. "Especially for Bedivere's sake, but they come and then they leave."
"Then we'll wait for them to cross our paths," Diarmuid swore, holding up his spear, his eyes growing dark with the need to kill.
"No," the queen spoke up. The attention of the hall was now upon her. "We must not let them touch ground upon this land. I have promised the people and so shall I keep it." With a stamp of her scabbard and the echo resounding, the knights silenced themselves. "Sir Bedivere was a noble knight, worthy of praise and song. I know it was he who blocked the bay and allowed the others at the docking post to escape before it was destroyed by fire. He did not wish for them to touch ground and so neither do I."
"But, your majesty, ships of the sea we have few and they are for mainly merchants," one of her counselors spoke up. "And to ask to build them would take months and great expenses."
"I understand," Queen Altria spoke up, opening her eyes and looked at her sword. "But I shall ask the merchants to fit their ships with weapons and set them at the docking posts to guard and on each ship I shall set up a knight. They will not set foot upon my kingdom!" Yet again, the queen slammed her scabbard down upon the marble floor and in that echo they could hear the heartbeat of their queen and the determination in her gaze was great.
But would it be great enough to hold back an unknown devil fleet?
They had expected the attacks to happen within months of each other—they happened faster. Week after week there was an attack, whether at a docking post or a village unfortunate to settle by the sea. There was death everywhere and the queen caught some of her guards thanking God that her castle and city surrounding was more inland than seaside. She didn't have time to be thankful for anything. Her people were dying and her defenses were being crushed into dust. Already two of their ships, merchant ships fitted with weapons, were sunk and what was worse, Altria heard from a few of her knights who witnessed the black fleet that the ships seen were considered uncountable. How was that even possible?
Now the queen regretted her foolishness in the years of peace.
Altria tossed the goblet of wine off her table, the plate of food remained uneaten and her bitter attitude darkened the atmosphere around her. "I should have built ships . . . those years . . . I should have built more weapons. I should have invested in better defenses! But I was a foolish little girl just playing in the damn mud!"
Falling deeper into her throne, Queen Altria let her resolver weaken, her hands placed over her face as bitter tears threatened to spill. What kept them back was nothing short of a miracle.
"You couldn't have known this was about to happen." Altria looked up, face red in frustration as she looked toward the only knight in the hall—the only one remaining in her castle currently. "Don't say that, Diarmuid. What else should a queen do but find ways to protect her people? I wasn't doing my job like I should have."
The dark-haired knight glanced down, his fists tightened to where his knuckles became pearly white. She knew he was upset over having to stay behind while she ordered the other knights to the seaside, but she needed company, especially his—her closest knight and friend.
"Tell me, Diarmuid . . . do you wish to join Lancelot and the others? Do you wish I had not ordered you stay at the castle?" Altria's green eyes had dulled and just meeting the enthusiastic lancer in the eye was proving difficult. She watched as Diarmuid held his tongue, closing his eyes and pulling his face downward.
"I obey the commands of my queen."
"Then I am commanding you to tell me the truth!" This time it was Altria's plate that went flying, rolling to a stop somewhere near Diarmuid's feet. The silent man simply bent down and picked it up. "Leave it there, the servants will clean it. You, answer me right away."
"What would you have me say to you? !" Diarmuid asked back. "Do you wish me to agree with you in saying you were foolish in times of peace? Do you wish me to say that you took Bedivere's death too lightly? Do you wish me to say you are unfit to rule this land? What do you want me to say? !" Anyone would have jumped at the harsh tone Diarmuid was using with the woman, but she's known the man long enough to know what he means and when he means it. She still couldn't look at the man and became so frustrated. "If you command it . . ." Altria's eyes then met her lancer's. "I will lie to you. But you have ordered truth and the truth is . . . I know you're trying your best and using every last resource you have to fight some damned invisible army. I know the amount of stress you're taking in, but I also know you can take it." He then smiled that warm smile that Altria kept him by her for. "You can take it because you're the queen. Because you're my queen."
"I often feel . . ." Altria looked down at her sword, her scabbard covered in gravy from the plate she had recently scattered. "That I am unworthy of such devotion, especially when my efforts are for naught."
"You're a patient woman . . . always have been." There was that smile again and Altria found her stiff lips fighting against stone hard skin to smile with him. I wish you knew why I've kept you here, Diarmuid—if more for your smile than your spear.
A knock on the door alerted the two and when Diarmuid opened it to reveal a gravely-faced watchman, the knight looked back toward his queen who had lost her smile, and prepared for the worst.
They had lost so many more knights. Too many pieces shattered from Altria's heart that she could bare. So she had called every knight back toward her and ordered they take the remaining ships to search for allies. The queen had never once had an ally in a neighboring kingdom and this coming from her was new to her knights.
"Are you sure about this, Altria?" Lancelot asked.
"I have exhausted everything I can to combat this enemy," the Queen said. "Do as I say and set sail immediately."
With that order the knights did. A few traveled with each other and when they crossed the sea they separated with a band of guard and servants baring treasure to offer. When Lancelot set sail and they bid him farewell, Diarmuid turned toward his queen and begged her let him return to the land from which he was born and seek allies from them. When Altria denied him, his mood dampened.
"I should think you have no faith in me . . . my queen," were the knight's words as he set his two spears down and sat himself against a pillar.
'You're far from useless, Diarmuid. You're the only one keeping my sanity together right now, with your smiles and jests—so don't stop smiling for me. I'd be lost without you.' Of course that's what Altria had wanted to tell the man, but the catastrophe wrought upon her people hardened her heart so much that the words were lost and bitter silence left in its wake.
Slowly, one by one, the knights returned, most with apology gifts from kings and rulers of far and wide regretting not being able to help the isle queen. It was nothing less than Altria expected; the concern from the black fleet destroying her kingdom from sea inward was too great a concern than to deal with apologies in the form of gifts.
"What do you want us to do with this?" Gawain asked, holding the chests full of silk, pearls, gold, silver, and gems. The queen hadn't been responding to her knights or advisors lately, her mind was too clouded in the thoughts of the threat looming over her people. Diarmuid had taken up voicing her wishes. "Just put them in the stores," the knight said, crossing his arms. "Put them with the rest of the rust."
Gawain inclined his head toward Diarmuid and bowed himself before his queen before leaving with his servants. Diarmuid let out a sigh and turned toward his queen and close friend. "I know you're concerned about the black fleet, but that gives you no right to ignore your knights."
"Lancelot still hasn't returned," Altria muttered, her mind elsewhere.
Diarmuid shook his head. "Wouldn't blame him if he deserted."
Altria turned her gaze upon her knight with a hate burning in them. "How DARE you question Lancelot's loyalty!"
"I'm not," Diarmuid defended, holding his ground against the upset woman. "I'm merely stating that any other ruler would honor a servant better than you are right now. No matter how worried you are, don't shut us out. We've been with you this far, we're not going to leave you now. Just remember us for a little while, will you?"
There it was again, that smile that Altria needed to see every day. Full of hope and understanding it was and Altria felt as if she had lost those emotions in these dark months. Again, this is why she kept this knight by her side, especially him.
It had been a few weeks since an attack and the queen had been overly stressed. So, due to Diarmuid's idea, he and Gawain decide to abduct her from her bed and bring her to the spring where the other knights had awaited. There they set her down and let her remember the place where she and her knights could be on equal level.
"We know you've not been sleeping, Altria," Gawain spoke first, watching the girl, too thin in frame now, slink down to her knees and pull at the green grass under her. "And eating," another knight offered. "Look at you," Gawain motioned toward her lighter body and noticed how her normal dresses were hardly fitting her, with laces tied tight and everything. "You've neglected yourself and so we've brought you here so that you may know we care for you." With that, the knight knelt down low to her, the others bowing just as low. Altria tried to force out a smile, but she was so tired from the worry her body stressed on.
"Well, we're here at the springs, so we might as well clean up. You know how Lancelot gets when we're not as clean as he," Diarmuid spoke up with a chuckle, trying his best to lighten the mood while he took off his shirt and unfastened his belt. "I can just see his face when he gets back . . . 'you all smell like swine!'" the young knight even put on the man's famous scowl and an eruption of laughter broke out.
He had broken the ice and soon the other knights were undressing and entering the waters, lathering themselves and rubbing fragrances upon them.
"This stuff will make you smell like a field of flowers until kingdom come." Gawain laughed, holding up the vile and offering it toward the others. When he passed it toward Diarmuid, the lancer help up his hands in protection.
"Question here: would the ladies like to lay with a man who smells like a field of flowers? I can understand a woman smelling like that, but a man . . . if Altria likes it, then I'll do it." A playful wink was directed toward the queen who remained near the pond's edge, bare feet cooling into the water. The young woman closed her eyes and inhaled the scent flowing from the vile. Suddenly a smile formed on her small lips. She opened her eyes and they seemed . . . brighter.
"I like the smell, but I'm too sure about the ladies in the tavern. They're more into the alcohol scent."
The knights were thrown back by their queen finally coming to and jesting with them. Diarmuid smiled though he looked hurt by her words. Crossing his arms he shook his head. "Never ending abuse I get. You see what I had to deal with since you boys left?" Of course his only answer was splashes of water directed at his head and mouth. The knight dunked under water and emerged by his queen's feet. "You wouldn't dare get me here!" They did dare.
"Ah!" Altria looked down at her wet gown from the fearless knights who dared toss water toward Diarmuid who was seeking refuge in her presence. With a smile she kicked the back of his head lightly with her foot. "Enough of that. Come here, Diarmuid."
"She's going to propose to me, we talked about it before we came here," Diarmuid whispered to Gawain who had been wading next to him. The knight chuckled and watched as Diarmuid slid back against the wall of the pond and rested his head between Altria's knees. When he felt her thin fingers come to massage his scalp he closed his eyes and let his queen do what she may.
"The ladies like men whose hair smells pleasant, as long as you have it in your hair you don't have to worry about smelling until kingdom come," Queen Altria informed.
"Take her advice, fellows, she knows what she's talking about," a knight said with a chuckle.
Altria glares at those laughing at her. "Despite my fierceness in battle, I am still a woman and do know what other women want."
"What do you want, then?"
"Yes, tell us."
"What does our queen want?"
Diarmuid looked up at Altria who had the cutest of blushes on her face. "S-Stop staring at me like that, all of you!" Suddenly, the rest of the knights surrounded her. "We won't let you head back until you tell us."
"I don't have to tell the likes of you, brutes!" Altria protested as she stood up, trying to make her way out of the middle of her fellow knights, but, like they said . . . they took hold of her dress and wouldn't let go. "Let go!" she demanded, trying to pry her dress free without ripping it. "I shall not ruin another dress!"
"Let her go," Gawain said. "If she doesn't want to tell us, it is up to her."
Altria was grateful for the knight and when she returned to her belongings and began placing her shoes back on she slowed her pace and chuckled lightly. "Tell you the truth . . . I've never really thought about it."
"Not even as a young girl?"
"Not even," Altria said, shaking her head. "Becoming queen and all of these wars, I suppose I just haven't had the time."
Her knights smiled at her before she crossed her arms. "Well, what is taking all of you so long? You'll prune if you stay in there any longer. Let's return to the castle, you've all worn me out."
With smiles, they were happy to comply and Altria would admit that that night she slept the most peaceful in the months since the destruction of her docking ports. The next day though, brought about the fullest of surprises.
"My queen, my queen!"
A messenger came riding through the streets, calling out to the woman. Altria heard him from her window as she dressed her hair. She looked down and caught him. "My queen!" He called to her. "We've received a message that Lancelot is returning this evening! You can see his ships from afar at the southern docking post!"
Queen Altria hadn't known why, but her heart skipped a beat as if hope jumped out and lodged itself in her throat. She was quickest to turn around and grab her armor. On her way down she stopped for no one and so her knights followed closely behind. "Diarmuid, you'll ride out with me. Gawain, you'll keep watch over the castle with the others while I'm away."
So Altria took her lancer and a few fellow guard as they mounted steeds and rode south. They had made it just in time to see Lancelot's ship come sailing in, but the most breathtaking part about it, were the ships following close behind. At first Altria feared it to be the black fleet, but her heart was set at ease once she realized that all of the ships following Lancelot were sailing with golden sails, and their hulls were decorated with the precious metal. There were so many that she couldn't believe it.
"Lancelot has brought back an ally, he must have!" Diarmuid noted, looking at his queen. "Our worries will be over." She smiled at him and deep down inside wished to wrap him in her arms and squeeze him tight. She had been that excited, but held her countenance as the ships neared the cost. "Let's go meet them!" Diarmuid said, excited in seeing his old friend after so long.
"No," Altria said, staying his trot. "I am queen of this land . . . they shall come to me." She stared at the ships which were dropping anchor so closely she hadn't seen Diarmuid's soft proud smile. "Yes, my lady." So he stood on her right and held both of his spears at his side, waiting just as she said to.
It had taken a while to align the ships alongside the coast. It seemed to have taken even longer to exit the ships and come ashore with all their belongings. Queen Altria and her men beside her watched from atop a hill to the east and they all stood tall and proud like their queen in the wait of these foreigners.
"This fleet should be enough to destroy that devil fleet," Diarmuid muttered, looking quite pleased at the sheer size of the golden armada of ships in the waters.
Altria looked at him briefly before making sure the knight understood the circumstances. "A new ally we may have, but no bargain has been negotiated." The queen took a small pause, looking down and beholding the people exiting the ship and letting Lancelot lead them ashore. They were all clothed in rich fabric and very beautiful to look at, but one man stood before them all, clad in golden armor that Altria didn't doubt its worth. "I will know their terms for us soon enough."
They watched closely and pointed out the obvious leader; of course the one sitting down upon a carrier and having eight men carry him was sign enough of who was in power. The walk up the hill wasn't too far and the terrain wasn't too coarse and so Altria and her men immediately became leery of this ruler and his ways of ruling.
"My queen." Lancelot fell to his knee immediately and palmed his breastplate. The man looked worn; there were dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks looked more than a little hollow. A worry set upon the queen before she remembered her place and focused her attention on this new ally of theirs. Of course, seeing to the nourishment and rest of her knight would come later.
"It is good to see your return, Sir Lancelot," Queen Altria spoke with a smile. "Now rise before your queen and introduce whom you have brought to our humble kingdom."
The knight nodded and stood, turning toward the man in golden armor. He seemed easily reclined and quite curiously gazed at the landscape around him. When his eyes met the queen and her party he smiled, though nothing of the pleasant kind. One simple glance to her soldiers beside her was enough, but his uniquely colored eyes stayed upon Altria and would not move.
"This is King Gilgamesh; he rules vast lands in the south, next to the great sea. He was the first ruler I came across and the only, as I've stated, his kingdom is vast." Lancelot stepped beside his queen and let the two rulers eye each other to what they saw fit. Queen Altria smiled and jerked her eyes to her surroundings for a brief moment. "I am certain the land of which you see is no ideal surrounding for you. This isle is all I have, but I and my people are content."
"Don't be so modest, queen," the king finally spoke and Altria caught the authority in the tone of his voice. How it came so natural was a mystery. She, herself, had such a hard time practicing such a gift when she had first become queen. The only skill that had given her authority was her skill in swordsmanship—it wasn't until after the war of the isles when she received peace in her kingdom that everyone acknowledged the authority in her words. "This land is quite green; judging from what I see thus far. Tell me, does it rain often?"
"It does," Altria said with a nod. "In fact, the time is approaching for the storm to come. Shall we escort you to my castle?"
"Lead the way, but my men and I have brought no horses. Do not fret, I quite enjoy the rain, should it come whilst we travel to your home," King Gilgamesh assured her; reclining himself more onto the golden cot on which his men carried him. The queen was not one to deny a new ally their wishes and so nodded. "Then I shall ride next to you." "My thanks," Gilgamesh said, looking at her with a sharper smile. "You certainly are a courteous ruler. Those are quite rare in these times."
Do I know the truth in what you've said, Altria thought with an inward sigh. Remembering all the rejections from other rulers in lands far, the queen was glad that someone had responded; Lancelot did her well.
There had been silence while they walked back toward her castle, the king mostly continued to exam the queen and when his eyes stayed on her men who rode beside her on steed he took them in closely. Of course Altria had felt the unease among her guard around her while they stared back at the foreign king so differently dressed apart from them. Diarmuid was especially uneasy, Altria caught sight of the knight tightening his grip on his spears, and apparently she wasn't the only one.
"Your warriors seem to look strong enough to defend their queen," Gilgamesh noted, his gaze still on Altria's knights, especially the uneasy ones like Diarmuid.
"If you like to look then you shall see we are strong enough to defend our queen and land!" Diarmuid declared, holding his spears close and narrowing his eyes at the unmoved king.
"Silence! You will not speak to the king like that." The Queen glared at her knight harshly and Diarmuid immediately bowed his head and expressed his apology. "My apologies, my queen." He then turned toward Gilgamesh, and without meeting him in the eye, bowed his head to him as well and muttered, "King."
Gilgamesh said no more words, just a lazy smile painted his face while he closed his eyes. A little while into their walk the king looked up and then touched his cheek. Altria noticed a small droplet of water had fallen upon him.
"Should I have my men cover you?" She asked. Gilgamesh did not respond to her, he simply laid there, seemingly content to stay as he was and let the small sprinkling of the rain drop upon him. "As I stated before, I do not mind the rain. Tell me, Queen Altria, what year was it when you became queen of this land?"
"It was my 13th year, King Gilgamesh," Altria answered. Gilgamesh opened his eyes and looked upon her, once again taking in her form. "Might I inquire your age?"
"I am 19 years of age," she replied, her gaze falling from his and to the long road ahead. The storm clouds were darkening their view of the road and she wished to return to her castle soon.
"It's alright you know." Altria turned to Gilgamesh with a confused look in her eyes. He smiled and nodded his head. "You can ask me questions if you'd like. It's only fair since you've been answering mine."
"I wouldn't know where to start," She admitted, her gaze falling back to the road ahead of them.
"You could ask how many subjects I rule, how old I am, when I became ruler, if I'm a gentle or . . . a violent king." At the last phrase, Altria had looked at the blond man and he at her, his smile seemed too intellectual to be for giving simple truths. She knew there was more to this man and to why he was here, but she couldn't ask him those things here, not in front of her men, and his.
"If you wish to keep that to yourself I am content," Altria answered truthfully. "You are my guest and I do not expect your loyalty."
"I see," Gilgamesh said with a nod. "You're a fine queen indeed. I find it interesting how you've come to rule without so much as a patriarch originally at your side."
"I have heard the same confusion in other kings as well. You are not the first, King Gilgamesh," Altria stated. "Tell me, your travel to this land wasn't to simply look upon the poor girl who had become ruler as a sole heir, have you?"
Gilgamesh, this time, smiled with his teeth and they were perfect, straight and white and brilliantly aligned with his lips. He was a very attractive man any woman or man could see and become envious of such a being so graced by God.
"I'll leave that answer for you to interpret," Gilgamesh replied, raising his head to feel the rain fall upon his pale skin. "The land where I come from treasures the rain. There have been years we have had to go without its blessing of healing the crops. Your land is good, Queen Altria."
"As are its people, I can assure you," she said.
"That, I shall see for myself," Gilgamesh said, silencing himself once more to enjoy the feel of the light rainfall.
They had eventually made it to the castle, granted the sun had set and the light rain had heavied. Once inside, Altria offered her best rooms to the king and his men and bid them wash themselves and rest for the morning soon to come. Gilgamesh had refused though.
"If you don't mind, queen, I wish to discuss the terms of my arrival here," he said as he looked around the hall of the throne room in which he stood in. His gaze met Diarmuid and Lancelot and saw how they would follow their queen anywhere she stepped. "Privately, if you don't mind."
"My queen, might I suggest this become a public meeting, with the counselors and other knights?" Diarmuid asked. "You have just met this king and I don't know if his intentions are to harm you."
"I am well capable of defending myself, Diarmuid," Altria assured before looking toward Lancelot. "Should I meet with him privately, Lancelot?"
Lancelot was hesitant for a moment before he nodded his head. "Just be careful, my lady. I have yet to see him become hostile toward anyone, whether it be my guard or his own people. I do know that he is dangerous if the time calls. Keep your sword close."
Altria nodded before she turned to Gilgamesh and motioned him to follow her. The two left in silence and it had been long before they returned. Lancelot, though bid by his queen and fellow knights to eat and rest, had not moved from his post in the hall. The remainder of the queen's knights stayed there into the late hours of the knight, waiting for their queen to return to them and dismiss them herself.
Just before the crack of dawn had they returned. Gilgamesh stopped before the throne and examined it. As he stood there for but a moment, the queen's knights whom had not moved from their positions, all looked at her. She seemed tired and more than anything, stressed. They could not ask anything of her now, but still worried greatly for the woman.
"The queen's knights shouldn't fear anything," Gilgamesh suddenly spoke up, turning around with that same smile on his face and looked at each individual knight, stopping with Diarmuid. "I have agreed to help this kingdom. You all should sleep in peace tonight." With that, the king of gold turned and left with his guard to the room shown to him earlier. Once his presence was gone, the knights immediately approached their queen.
"Queen Altria, what is it that you have promised that king for his alliance?"
The small queen simply shook her head and smiled softly at her men. "He's right, get good sleep tonight. Our official allegiance shall be announced tomorrow."
Even though ordered, no one had slept at all in peace that knight. The presence of the king stressed everyone, when morning came, the whole castle could tell that even the queen hadn't slept well. Of course she was good at hiding her unease with the way she held herself, especially before the people. She had to be well at holding herself upright in times like this, she was a queen, and what she had given the gold king in return for an alliance set everyone against her decision.
"What? !"
"Why did you agree to this? !"
"My lady, this is not like you at all!"
The knights all protested many a thing, as did the nobles upon returning from the announcement on the balcony before the city of people. Altria though sat there, seated firmly upon her throne and apparently her decision as well. She listened to the complaints for a good twenty minutes before she raised her sword and struck its scabbard across the floor.
"I have run out of options on how to combat this black fleet. They are far too many and too distant to do anything about. They have killed numerous of my knights and left so many more civilians of my kingdom lifeless. I cannot offer much save for what the king had already sought when he set to journey here with Lancelot," Queen Altria spoke in firm authority.
"Did you know of his intentions, Lancelot?" Diarmuid asked, turning with hate in his eyes aimed at the older knight.
"I did not," Lancelot answered. "He never fully stated his intentions, only that he was interested in helping our kingdom and queen."
"You mean helping himself," Diarmuid spat. "That selfish king is the reason why this land has no king!"
"But, Altria . . . why have you chosen this upon yourself?" Gawain asked, looking at his majesty with great concern. "You shall receive no happiness in something so forced."
"It's not meant for happiness, just protection," she stated. "Our marriage will be as official as can be among two rulers of different nations."
"If the marriage is so void then what would that king get out of this?" Diarmuid asked, his scowl full of bitter hatred for this situation.
The queen closed her eyes and all her knights could see her visibly grip the hilt of her sword tighter. They could tell she didn't want this and that this decision was made for her people alone and not for herself.
"I shall bear him an heir," Altria informed and let her eyes remained closed so she didn't have to look into the horrified faces of her knights while they looked on, disappointed in their queen no doubt.
"An heir? !" Diarmuid was quite louder than any other knight. "And then what? Shall he leave or will he command his heir rule after your stead? !"
Altria did open her eyes, but she focused her sight upon the beautiful work of the scabbard of her sword and remained lost in it, trying in some way to escape reality. "No," she answered. "He swore to me that his firstborn heir shall not rule my land. He swore that he desires no kingdom from me and simply an heir."
"But why you?" Lancelot asked. "Surely he could wed any other of his own nobles and have her bear his heirs."
"He would not help this kingdom if an heir wasn't promised," Altria informed. "Before, he told me, that he had been deciding if he would ask this of me or instead just leave. Apparently he was amused by me and so 'graciously' accepted I be the mother of his heir."
"Once the child is born, will he leave?" Gawain asked.
Altria nodded. "He said he would, after the child is old enough to travel abroad."
"That could be years!" another knight complained. "The people do not like him and they do not like your decision in wedding him. They think him to come to be known as their new king."
"Then they are mistaken," Altria informed. "I am still your queen and he is just a foreign ally. Nothing will change over an heir."
"It had better not."
"Here, here."
"Still, this was my decision alone to make. I am queen and my say is above anything," the queen stated. "Whether it is favorable to the people or my knights, it matters not. Thus says the queen, and thus it is. But just know . . . my decisions, though often greatly hated by myself," Altria placed a hand over her heart, "is always and will forever be for my people. I would gladly give my life up if it were to save all of you. Know that and trouble not your souls."
How could it not trouble her knights or her people? At the mere age of 19 they were having to watch a wedding ceremony come on too fast to a king they knew next to nothing about. What was worse, he was a foreigner and knew nothing of the land or the people, nor made any effort to get to know them. Instead, he isolated himself with his men and would often visit his fleet, he had not spent too much time with his new "wife" and because of that the he had earned greater displeasure among the people.
"What husband leaves his wife the very day of their wedding?" Diarmuid muttered to himself while he sipped on the ale provided at the wedding banquet. Of course he hadn't concerned himself with the fact that he was sitting right next to the queen at the long table and the other knights were near as well.
"Easy," Gawain spoke up, leaning over Lancelot on the other side of Altria who hadn't eaten too much of her meal and simply sat there, staring into space. "Our beloved queen sits just an arm's length from you."
Diarmuid looked at Altria and hadn't hid his scowl before drinking up. "'n care. Even our queen knows how a husband should be. The least he could have done was wait until after the wedding banquet to leave. Look at the counselors and nobles . . . they're not enjoying themselves either."
"No one is, I believe," Lancelot spoke up. "Besides, our queen's husband left to order his fleet to sail toward the eastern side of the isle. He should return in his own time."
"He can take his time," Diarmuid muttered again. "His presence isn't missed."
There was a silence at the table of the queen and her knights hadn't spoken either. Too many of them insisted on getting drunk and forgetting this day even existed, especially Diarmuid, the young knight was already on his fifth cup of ale and he shook his head, turning to his queen and poking at her plate. "Not eating, your highness? Today's a merry day, right?"
"Diarmuid!" Lancelot warned. "Don't disrespect our queen."
"I'm not," Diarmuid replied. "I'm simply observing. You're quiet, Queen Altria . . . sad your husband has run off so soon? Or are you just awaiting his return like a faithful new bride? Awaiting for the wedding night when your husband returns for you and brings you to his bedchamber."
"Diarmuid!" The other knights about stood from their seats to confront the dark-haired knight, but the queen had beat them to it. Diarmuid as well as the others stared up at her, awaiting a scolding or a form of punishment for his harsh words, but nothing came. Instead, the queen simply took the veil from her hair and walked off silently, leaving her guests to dine alone.
"You have upset her!" Gawain accused, slamming his hands on the table and standing from his seat.
"She's upset herself for marrying that bastard," Diarmuid explained. "I know she wishes he doesn't return, but for the sake of this kingdom she had no choice but to hope he does so that we may be rid of the back fleet destroying our land and the lives of our people. But no new bride should be treated like some sort of vessel like this. He is no husband to her."
With that, the young knight stood from his chair and took his goblet and left the remaining knights. It was hard times in which to keep together . . . especially when their queen was giving herself away to a foreign power. They were all still very loyal to her and would no doubt only take orders from her, but because they were so loyal they were known very well to love their queen and when her best interest was threatened, they felt angered and upset; protectors always did.
It was true, that none knew what it was like to rule your own kingdom and the sacrifices that come with it . . . especially if one was to rule for the sake of the people, it left one to make hard choices and reap in bitter consequences. All of them knew that and all knew they would never be able to take her place and rule as she does or make the decisions she does, but by God Almighty they wished she think about herself and the happiness of her own life than theirs.
TheThirdTime'sACharm: I decided to name Saber, Altria, in this fic because it sounds more feminine than Arturia (to me at least) and there's not more than one "r". I know she's often written as Arturia, but that's for another story, 'kay? 'Kay. Review please and tell me what you thought! Also! Sorry for any grammer mistakes I've probably made, too lazy to go back and spellcheck.