Title: Honour bound
Prompt: It is no burden. Love never is.
Character/Pairing: Lancer (Diarmuid), Saber, Grainne, Sola-Ui
A/N: Lancer and Saber could have been such bros in fate/zero
Summary:The first time, it might have been love—Lancer and the three times he took someone's hand.
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The first time, it might have been love.
"Help me," Grainne pleaded, tears in her eyes. Around him, the other knights lay sleeping on the tables; her potion had knocked out all but three. "Save me."
Diarmuid stared at her outstretched hands, at the trembling of her fingers. She was a princess to the core, her posture refined, but even that couldn't hide the fear behind her words.
Around him, the feast was frozen in place, his king snoring loudly at his throne. This was wrong; what Grainne asked could not happen. This much he knew. His fealty, his pride, his everything was tied up with his sleeping lord.
To steal his bride away, on the day of his engagement— Diarmuid couldn't even imagine the dishonour that would bring.
"Please," she begged, bowing her head slightly. How much that cost her, he would never know. "It can only be you."
The others had refused. He should as well. Diarmuid didn't even know how much of her desire came from herself and how much was because she fell to his love spot. More a curse than a blessing, he could no longer know the truth behind a woman's actions.
Behind this woman's actions. She still stared up at him imploringly, her eyes bright and hopeful.
"Please," Grainne repeated, her voice fainter.
If asked years later, he would blame it on youth and inexperience. On the inability to ignore a helpless damsel. On a spell.
Whatever excuse, his hand reached out nonetheless, gripping hers.
"I'll protect you," he promised, he swore. His word meant nothing anymore, broken by this one action, but he would still honour them. "Let's go."
All reneged oaths had a price to pay. His came years later, at the hands of his vengeful king.
It was no surprise. There was no victory in his actions.
(Just a small happiness, but there was no honour in that.)
-x-
The second time, it had been commanded.
"I'll be your master now," Sola-Ui said eagerly, almost proudly. There was a tinge of madness in her voice, a shadow of things better left unasked. "We'll be together from now on."
If he could scar his face, if he could destroy that cursed mark just below his eye, he would. As it was, he took a step back, creating a distance to match to the coolness in his voice.
"I swore an oath to your husband," he replied simply. "He is my master."
"Why?" Her voice broke, her eyes watery. "I thought…we could…"
Please, Grainne had begged, her hand—and he was not doing this again, was not travelling down this road once more.
Betraying one master was one too many.
"I swore an oath," he repeated. Diarmuid took another step back, looking away. "He is my master."
Sola-Ui's expression changed, hardened. "What if it will save him?"
This time when he took her hand, no vow was broken. His honour, his king, all of it was upheld. This time it was different.
And this time, when his master doubted, when Kayneth's expression twisted like Fion's, Diurmuid found there was no difference in the eyes of a jealous man.
-x-
The third time, it was out of respect.
"Your spear is quite strong," Saber complimented, gritting her teeth as she pushed it back with her sword.
He could feel the earth tremble as he took a step back. And then another. Despite her smaller stature, she truly the King of Knights. He crouched and leapt back, dodging her strike as he landed.
"Not as strong as you," Diarmuid replied with a smile, shifting his position. She hadn't complained once when he had injured her hand, fighting despite the handicap.
Her strength had diminished but her nobility had not. When she had asked for his aid in the fight against Caster, he didn't hesitate. There was no oath to break this time, no promise to keep. Just an honour code older than time itself.
An honour code that Saber followed just as closely as he did. Even after his spear was broken, she still held her weapon with only one hand.
"Until I defeat you, the wound remains," she explained, flipping back to avoid his strike.
Honour. Respect. She would have been a fine king to serve.
"Very well."
If they were not ghosts, summoned across the ages for battle, he would have liked to talk to her more.
As it was, his spear crashed against her sword, speaking with action what words he could not say. It was not quite love but it was as close as he'd ever get.
And when he stabbed himself with his spear, when her master watched from behind his, Diurmuid realized the real truth of the world.
There was no honour. No respect. No nobility. Oaths could be broken and kept on a whim.
Loyalty. Integrity. A code. What a fool he was to think there were others like him. That there were any like him.
Even the King of Knights was not immune to greed.