(Nanatsu no Taizai)

Saigo no Yoru (Last night)

A/N - Okay, so I recently watched Nanatsu no Taizai, and I loved it! So I searched for some fanfiction and noticed there was a definite lack of any Gil x Margaret ships. So here I am. This is probably pretty AU, as I doubt it would be this sickeningly fluffy, but I just couldn't help myself. I hope you like it. Please let me know! Thanks!

The decision was made. It hadn't been done lightly, but Gilthunder knew it was necessary. His mind kept churning with images of the people he'd hurt, in Bernia, in other parts of Britannia. He had to make amends, to be worthy of the title of Holy Knight again.

Until then he would wander, and pay his penance for as long as it took. He would help anyone in need and regain his honor.

"Have you told Margaret?" Melodias asked, his deceptively-childish face serious. They had been talking for some time, and when Gil had mentioned his plans, his mentor hadn't seemed surprised.

"I have not, but I will tell her tonight," Gil answered. He ran his hands through his hair. "I do not know how she will react." Would she be angry? Perhaps she would never want to see him again. His stomach lurched at the thought.

Tonight would be the festivities to celebrate the liberation of Britannia from the corrupted Knight Hendrickson and his forces, who had attempted to drown the world in blood by starting a holy war. There would be food, games, and at its climax, fireworks.

In the days following, the town would focus on rebuilding and putting lives back together. But Gilthunder wouldn't be there to see it. He would embark on his journey accompanied by his comrades, Howzer and Griamore. Together they would all redeem themselves.

Melodias gave him a pat on the back as he rose from his seat. "Don't worry," he reassured. "I'm sure she will understand. You are a knight, and your honor is held as close to your heart as she is."

Gilthunder watched him go, hoping his mentor was right. He had no idea what he'd do if he lost Margaret. They'd finally been able to be together again, free from the sentries that had kept him bound to work for Hendrickson all that time.

Hopefully, she would understand and wait for him.

Later that night…

Margaret moved closer to Gilthunder as the two watched the celebration with pleased interest. The people were smiling and laughing, enjoying the food and fun the evening provided.

Both were aware of the others' closeness, and as her hip touched his, Gil felt his heart speed up in anticipation and dread at what he had to tell the only woman he'd ever loved. He reached an arm around her, pulling her closer.

Gilthunder saw the joy that filtered across his love's face. From her long, lavender hair to her high cheekbones and shining, honey-brown eyes, she was perfect. It was such a shame to ruin that happy visage with news that would bring her sadness.

But he had to do it some time. "Margaret," he began, but when those lovely eyes swung in his direction, the words stuck in his throat. Could he really do this, leave her and wander for gods knew how long?

"Yes, Gil?" she asked, her face starting to register concern at his obvious nervousness.

Gilthunder closed his eyes briefly, centering himself. It was now or never. "I am leaving."

"What?! But Gil…"

"I must," he explained. "I have to atone for all the harm I have done the people, all the pain I caused. I am going to renounce my title as a Holy Knight and wander Britannia for a time to make reparations."

When he saw her face fall, he grabbed her shoulders in a gentle grip. "But I will come back, Margaret. I will come back to you, but I have to do this. Please understand."

He could see unshed tears threatening to fall.

"Will you wait for me?" He gave her a hopeful grin.

Margaret swiped at her eyes, and after she had composed herself, stared straight into Gilthunder's face and nodded. "Of course I will. I will always wait for you, Gil. Always." She knew he had to reclaim the honor he had lost in his service to Henrickson. So she would stand by him in this, because she loved him.

He closed his eyes with a relieved sigh. Just then, an explosion of color lit the night sky. Fireworks, loud and festive, burst high above them. Even among the ruins of the city, it brought smiles and cheers from the people.

The couple watched as shapes of all kinds emerged in a wondrous display. "It's beautiful," Margaret sighed. Her lovely lips tilted up into a pleased smile.

"You are beautiful."

She turned then, surprised that he was watching not the fireworks, but her. She stepped closer still to this man, this powerful, gentle, good man she would soon have to part ways with.

They searched each other's eyes, and finally Margaret nodded. She moved closer still, raising her face, eyes closed. Gil paused but a moment before claiming her offered lips. The kiss was sweet and warm, and as her mouth parted under his, Margaret never wanted it to end.

When they stopped to breathe, they remained in each other's embrace, loath to separate. But the princess' mind was working, and she finally came up with an idea as her people laughed and made merry in the background.

Perhaps they didn't have to separate, at least, not until the morning, when he left her.

She'd only just gotten the idea, and Margaret contemplated it for a moment, her mind turning it over despite the revelry going on around them.

Gil would leave tomorrow, would be gone for who knew how long. Would he return at all? As much as she hated to think it, Britannia could be a savage place, and he would face much adversity during his travels.

He was strong to be sure, stronger than any knight she'd ever met save Melodias, but who knew what enemies he would encounter?

This could be the last night she would ever see him.

"Gil," she murmured, gazing into his crystalline blue eyes. "The people will be celebrating late into the night. My father and sisters will be among them. The halls of the castle will be all but deserted."

When he gazed owlishly at her, she elaborated. "Will you stay with me tonight?" Her face was flushed and hot as she awaited his answer.

At first, he was still confused. But when it dawned on him, she could tell, for he too began to blush, lowering his eyes shyly. Margaret squeezed his hands when he was silent for a few moments. "Gil?

She was afraid he was going to refuse her, but when he looked up, the heat she saw there was enough to stop her breath. His eyes had darkened with desire, and his hands, now on her hips, tightened.

"I would like nothing more," he murmured huskily.

Turning to head back to the castle, the two walked with clasped hands, each trying hard not to seem as eager as they were.

The candles gave the room a cozy feel, the dim light casting the lovers in a golden, homely light. Gilthunder and Margaret sat on her large bed, facing one another. He clasped her hands in his, his thumb massaging her palm.

They had managed to sneak through the halls without being seen. Upon reaching her room, she'd made sure to check again that no one observed them before shutting them in and locking the door. Now, it was quiet, neither knowing what to say.

She was tired of waiting. Now that they were alone, she craved his hands upon her with an eagerness that shocked her. Taking a hand away from Gil's, Margaret ran a hand across his forehead, moving a few wayward, salmon tendrils aside. Caressing his face, she cradled his jaw and finally pulled him forward as she came to him.

As their lips met, she felt him exhale against her in relief.

Gilthunder breathed her scent in through his nose as they kissed, savoring the scent of moonflowers on her skin. He remembered she would always dab a little of it on her wrists, her neck, and behind her ears.

He was relieved that she had begun things. He had wanted to greatly, but he was afraid he'd scare her. His hands shook with the need to peel her from her clothes. But he didn't want things to go too quickly, so he trusted her to set the pace.

They'd grown into adults together, almost like siblings. Gone were the days that they played as children played, all laughter and innocence. Gone were his brotherly feelings toward her.

Margaret had grown into a fine, beautiful woman, elegant and vivacious. He'd long noticed her metamorphosis, and soon he'd begun to see her differently, to think on things that weren't quite so...pure.

Sure, they had fooled around, sharing shy pecks and touches when no one was watching. They had spent too much time together for things never to have gone that route. But this time there would be no adults to interrupt, no nannies to drag them apart.

After his induction into the Holy Knights, he'd worked hard to become powerful, worthy of her. He hoped to impress her and imprint himself upon her mind as thoroughly as she had on his. He loved this girl, this woman, more than he'd ever thought he could love anyone.

And now she was in his arms, craving his touch. Gilthunder could hardly contain his excitement. Her lips were soft, moving gently against his. She clasped him to her as if he were something precious.

He wanted to taste her. Trying to be as slow as possible, he just barely touched the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

Margaret froze for a split second before carefully following his example. He tasted sweet, and she explored further, wanting more and to commit the sensation to memory. When he began to swirl around the recessed of her mouth, she was swept away.

His arms tightened around her, and before long the couple was breathless, ending the kiss for want of air.

Gil brought his hands up to the buttons of her dress, his eyes asking permission. She nodded, her breaths shaky and fast. As her dress slid away to reveal a camisole underneath, he couldn't take his eyes from the elegant curve of her collarbones, her shoulders, her breasts.

His hand ached to fondle and squeeze. The urge must have shown in his face, because Margaret grasped his hands and guided them to her. She fit his palms perfectly. He squeezed and caressed, feeling her nipples pucker as he did so.

Margaret set to work on his shirt, undoing his thin tie and setting it on the floor. His buttons were easy to find within the ruffles of his shirt, and soon he was bare from the waist up, her hands roaming the expanse of his chest, caressing the hard planes.

His breeches were getting tighter as his body reacted, and he thought he would burst when he felt her stroke his hardness through the fabric. She gave him a mischievous smile when his eyes shot to her face. That minx!

They laughed together as Gil guided her to her back. He slid her dress the rest of the way from her, leaving her in her petticoat, which soon followed. When all she wore was her camisole and panties, he stood to disrobe.

His breeches joined the rest of his clothing on the floor, and he stood before Margaret naked for the first time. Her eyes examined him intensely. She seemed to like what she saw, if her heated eyes and tongue-moistened lips were any indication.

He rejoined her on the bed, and he helped her out of her remaining garments, leaving kisses where more flesh was revealed. By the time she was completely bare, their excitement was obvious.

Gil slid himself over her, her thighs spreading readily for him. He kissed her again, this time with all the passion and urgency he had been feeling all these years. Through his kiss he conveyed his love, his need, and his regret that it had taken them so long to be together, like this.

How long had he been a slave to Henrickson, forced to behave in a way that was so unlike himself? How long had he been denied her smile, her arms around him, her kisses? His tongue danced with hers, a reunion from a long time apart.

She answered him in kind, and his hands and mouth wrung moans from her beautiful throat. His face against her neck, Gil's hand ran across a breast, pinching a nipple. He was encouraged when she let out a ragged gasp.

He dipped his head, his mouth engulfing the trembling, sensitive flesh of her breast as she moaned. "Gil," she moaned. "Please…"

Her nails scratched against his scalp, urging him on. He switched breasts, leaving a slippery path between them. Her sounds were intoxicating. He'd never heard her utter them before.

He wanted to give her more pleasure, to get her to make more of those glorious noises that nearly had him coming all over himself. His hand flitted downward, flowing over her soft belly to even softer curls crowning her sex.

He released her nipple, watching her face as his fingers found her. She was aroused, sodden and creamy, her hot insides begging him to take her. Her mouth was parted, sucking in quick breaths, her breasts rising and falling earnestly. Her brows were pinched together, and she made the very picture of pleasure.

"Oh, Maggie," he whispered, closing his eyes. He moved his hand faster. More moisture flowed, his fingers swallowed by her tightening sheath. His length throbbed painfully, and he pulled from her.

"I can't take anymore," he said softly, staring into her face until she opened her eyes. "I need you."

Margaret held his gaze as her small hand moved downward. He felt his princess' touch, felt her wrap around him, and she drew him closer to her opening. He felt his tip touch her, the slick heat beaconing to him.

She smiled as she released him, and nodded. "Come on, Gil."

He released a grateful breath, held her eyes with his, and surged his hips forward.

Her eyes darkened in pain as he breached her barrier, but nothing could be done for it. He buried himself completely, listening to her pained breaths and whimpers. He closed his eyes and laid his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry."

He stayed still as she breathed, her breaths feathering over his face as her body tried to accommodate him. "It's alright," she reassured him. "I'm okay." Her hands tightened around his back, and she smiled. "I'm yours now, Gil."

He searched her face. "Silly girl," he murmured, his half-lidded, blue eyes smiling back. "You always were." With that, he began moving.

Margaret hissed when she felt the hard flesh within her begin to withdraw. No sooner had he nearly left her he was back, plunging deep, filling her up. He was large, thick, so much so that she swore she could feel him in her stomach.

It hurt. Gods, it hurt, but as time went on, her body acclimated to the small, exquisite trauma of the act, and gradually pleasure started to filter in with the pain.

She watched her lover's face, how he concentrated. Sweat was forming on his furrowed brow. She reached up to wipe at it, making him open his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern pausing his thrusts.

Margaret nodded and smiled in encouragement.

"Does it hurt?"

"Only a little. Not so much as before." She pulled him down for another kiss. "Please, Gil. Keep going."

He smiled against her lips, and he swallowed her gasp as he thrust deep. "As you wish, my lady," he grunted against her mouth.

Now it was pure pleasure. The pain, long gone, evolved into a haunting pressure that curled her toes. Gil reached deep, deep into the moist depths of her, and soon her stomach was building with a pleasurable pressure that threatened to make her black out.

"Gil!" she mouthed, breathless. Her thighs tightened on his hips, and she held him closer, her fingertips digging into his muscled back.

He reached down, positioning his hands just under her knees, spreading her ever wider for a deeper thrust. "You feel so good, Maggie," he managed to breath against her face. He rested his head against hers and increased his speed even as he thrust deeper.

"Ah!" She lost herself in sensation. When next Gil presented his tongue to her, she sucked on it, immersed in lust as her body jarred with each powerful push of his hips.

He kissed her in earnest as his movements became violent, the sound of flesh meeting reverberating in her ears.

Then that pressure, it built, stoked like a fire, and finally, Margaret climaxed. Her orgasm hit her hard, arching her back, her body jerking as she cried out brokenly.

He put his face to her neck, his mouth sucking and kissing, as he continued on. Her sweet sex was milking him, contracting around him gloriously. Gilthunder movements became jerky. He was close.

He clenched his teeth. He was almost… Just a few more thrusts…there! He groaned gutturally into his love's throat, his hands holding her hips as his climax gripped him, spilling deep within her.

Margaret felt it, the hot spray of liquid that coaxed a second, smaller orgasm from her. She shook against her lover, the two breathing heavily against one another.

After they began to come back from their high, Gil turned them on their side, holding her close.

"Oh, Gil," she sighed as she shuddered. "I love you so much."

He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. "And I love you, more than anything."

Soon the two drifted off to sleep. Margaret slept restfully until she was awoken by stroking hands and a hot mouth between her thighs. She had felt embarrassment at first, had resisted his ministrations, until Gil made her forget all that.

It was a long while before she could think clearly. And then her lover was inside her again, and there was nothing but Gilthunder, her knight, her lover, her only.

She helped him dress before dawn. It was bittersweet. When he left, he would go and gather his things, mount his horse, and ride off with his fellow knights to wander and make recompense. How long would she be without him?

Margaret felt bitter tears sliding down her face. He reached for her, wiping at them as he hugged her close. I'll be back, she heard him say.

"As soon as I make it up to the people of Britannia, I will return to you." He pulled back to cradle her face, sapphire eyes meeting honey. "You have my word, my love."

She nodded, her throat too tight to make words as ever more wretched tears fell from her eyes. Why could he just make it up to them here, with her? She berated herself for her selfishness.

He held her as she cried, knowing there was nothing he could do. She would worry as she always did, until he was back in her arms again.

So, after sneaking out from her room and to the outside, she bid him farewell with one last, lingering kiss.

"I love you Gilthunder. Return to me soon."

"And I love you, my Margaret, more than my own life. I will come back to you, I swear it." As he turned to leave, he waved. "Wait for me, okay?"

She smiled sadly. "Always."

When he was out of sight, still she watched. She said a small prayer, appealing to the gods. "Please see him back to me safely."

Two years later…

Howzer and Griamore could hardly keep up with their friend. Gilthunder was riding ahead at full speed. He'd done so as soon as Liones had come into sight, spurring his horse into a full gallop.

The two knights resigned themselves. Their comrade would only know peace when he saw her again. So they settled their horses into a lope and rode into the capital city together. They'd rendezvous with their friend later.

Gil rode up the path leading to the castle eagerly, finally bringing his horse to a sliding stop in front of the gates. The guards quickly opened for him, and soon he was led inside to a sitting room. He could hardly keep himself still as he waited. Where was she? He'd sent a message ahead to announce his arrival.

The door opened, and in strode King Baltra Liones, Margaret's father. Gilthunder, hiding his disappointment, instantly came to his feet. "Your majesty," he greeted.

The king nodded in acknowledgment, but his usual jovial attitude toward Gil was absent. Instead was a stern, intense demeanor. Was something wrong? Did something happen to Margaret?

"Gilthunder, son of Zaratras," the king began. "Are you a man of honor?"

Gil was confused. Why had the king greeted him, a childhood friend of his house, so formally? "Yes, sire," Gil answered. What was this about?

"So then, if you have a responsibility, you fulfill that responsibility, yes?"

"Of course!" It was becoming difficult to hide his annoyance. What was with this line of questioning? And where was Margaret?!

The king seemed satisfied, albeit only slightly. "We shall see." He nodded to a servant near the door. "Bring them in."

The door opened, and in came Margaret! Gilthunder could hardly keep himself in place, his eagerness to touch and to hold her almost overcoming him. "Margare—"

His words stuck in his throat, for there, in her arms, was a toddler, a little boy. The knight's mouth fell open. Who..? Then he looked the boy, whose hair matched that of Margaret's, in his eyes, eyes the shade of the ocean at high noon, his eyes.

He pulled his gaze from the boy to Margaret, whose fearful face told him all he needed to know. "He's yours, Gil," she said softly.

The knight stepped closer, his face gazing in wonder at the little one who had tucked his face against his mother's neck, so much like Gilthunder had that fateful night.

"He's…he's my son?" He was in front of them now, and the urge to touch the boy was great. But the child was shy, and he didn't want to scare him. "What is his name?"

"He is called Gilbert." She smiled at him when his eyes shot to her face.

He moved forward, wrapping an arm around her while watching out for his son. His son. He couldn't describe the feeling that he had at the thought. This was his son.

His stomach in knots, he hugged Margaret close. "I've missed you so much, Maggie."

She lifted her face, and as he leaned in to kiss her, she answered. "And I you." Getting to know each other would come later.

For now, he was home.

Hope you liked it! Please review! :)