"Enjoying the festivities?" asked Merlin, rather bravely claiming a spot on the King of Heroes' rug by settling down on a pillow with a glass of punch. Clever wizard, holding his treasured rug hostage by holding a cup of offending orange swill, effectively negating Gilgamesh's chances of throwing him out without the carpet getting stains.
The King of Heroes' scoffed as two of Arturia's dogs duked it out on the sand. It wasn't the best entertainment in the world, but the King of Knights' adorable little micro-reactions were more than worth it. Granted, he would rather have her here, splayed on his lap like the wench on Iskandar's knee, because the few feet that separated him from her was distance enough.
"I deign to call this," he gestured with a dismissive flick of his wrist, "festive."
Of course, Iskandar looked like he was having the time of his life, eyes glued to the fight in front of him like a child sitting in front of a TV. Gilgamesh would admit that he could now understand the legends talking of the strength of the Round Table, but her knights were still nothing compared to the strength of himself and his one friend, even if, perhaps, the Table alone could take on Iskandar's army. Assuming they were all of equal strength, that is.
"Careful, King of Heroes," Kay warned, following Merlin's example by claiming his own pillow on Gilgamesh's rug. "Would be a shame if Arty kicked you out after all the effort you put into traveling here."
Kay's tone was back to its inherently mocking nature, his spirits seemingly restored by the food and drink. Merlin nodded in his direction, looking pointedly at Gilgamesh, but the latter seemed to be in a good mood. The King of Knights' brother had proven himself a passable fighter, one worthy enough of Arturia. He performed better than the blonde had expected, going from that one instance the scarred man dared point that sword at Gilgamesh's head all those weeks ago.
"Well, if it isn't the defeated," he drawled, voice drifting in the air lazier than a sloth.
Merlin giggled like a schoolgirl as Kay choked on his wine.
Making no move to help the man as he hacked and sputtered, Merlin turned his attention to his most popular model to date. "Why are you here?" he asked, a playful turn of lip on his ethereal-looking face. "This seems more Arturia's scene than yours."
Of course, Merlin was aware of the monumental palace that Gilgamesh was currently residing in. Plus, having worked with the man for the better part of a month, the wizard had a sure grasp of his taste. Gilgamesh wouldn't wear anything that didn't ooze luxury. In fact, until the day Gilgamesh was assured that the outfits he modeled were unique and of superior quality to the version of the outfit put into mass production, he wouldn't put on anything.
Gilgamesh's red eyes had already moved on to a much more appealing target, one with sunny yellow hair that smelled of lilies and felt like silk. His fingers, preoccupied with a golden wine goblet, tingled with the need to run through her delicate strands. She looked heavenly in this light, naught but pride kept him from demanding more of her attention. Curse Iskandar and his height, he was blocking his view.
"You waste my breath with these queries, mongrel," he answered, curiously watching Arturia put on a fake smile. It was most likely a reaction to seeing the mad dog wearing the same armor from the Fourth Holy Grail War. "Need you even ask?"
Kay observed the glint in Gilgamesh's eyes, the shine they took when Arturia swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The scarred man wasn't stupid, he knew this man held affections for his sister, he'd witnessed him...caring, for lack of a better word, the very night they'd met.
That night, Kay had seen Gilgamesh in a way perhaps no one else had, not even Arturia. A rare gentleness in those sharp snake eyes gone in just a blink, replaced by the holier than thou facade that was his default. If Kay hadn't instinctively tried to attack Gilgamesh, he was sure he would be witness to more of it, but Kay couldn't deny what he saw when Gilgamesh pulled the covers to her chin as she slept.
Gilgamesh was the usual proud ass the rest of the night. Despite him explicitly saying Kay was an ignorant mongrel for not immediately recognizing his identity, he introduced himself, begrudgingly answering all Kay's questions about how he knew Arturia for the latter to confirm he was indeed the enemy Servant Merlin had talked about at some point before.
Thinking about it now, maybe Kay should have been less trusting that evening, considering how Gilgamesh had been the primary antagonist of both Arturia's experiences fighting in the Grail Wars, but he had trouble reconciling what he'd heard from Merlin with what he was seeing.
Eventually, the blonde king tired of him and retreated to what was now Arturia's bedroom. From the couch, he could just see the old king through the crack of the door looking down at Arturia's sleeping figure. And then, with a touch as light as a feather, he swept a few blonde strands from her face, his fingers lingering at her cheek for just a moment longer.
He just couldn't understand how this could possibly be the same Gilgamesh Arturia fought.
But...if he hadn't seen that rare tenderness that first evening, hadn't seen the little flecks of blood on Gilgamesh's fingers from when he'd cleaned the small cut on her forehead, his opinion of the King of Heroes would be entirely different.
Arturia talked about Gilgamesh often, probably more often than she realized, complaining about his attitude, his voice, his tastes, his general lack of understanding of personal space when it came to her. Truthfully, Kay was still a little angry about the two little red marks the first king left on her neck-he discovered them hidden under the sheen of concealer and thanks to his superior height- but he couldn't stay upset after Arturia told him what happened in the elevator, because Gilgamesh technically saved her life.
Arturia stomped in like a raging bull that day, red in the face and seething, but for all her ire it took her a long time before she said anything. She spent hours just staring into traffic from the balcony, making Kay shoot Merlin a text to fill him in on what happened at work. When he'd finally approached Arturia with a hot cocoa in hand, he found her completely lost in thought, her hand absentmindedly stroking her cheek as she looked on into the night.
"I do not...I can not…" she stuttered and sighed, long and hard. The steam from her cocoa twisted and spiraled as she breathed to collect her thoughts. Whatever had been plaguing her seemed to take its toll, for in the few hours what she'd been out here, Kay swore she looked just a little bit older, the two lines between her eyebrows deepening.
"Kay, how is it that some people can be so... difficult to...to…" She trailed off, head dipping to rest on the handrail. She shifted, cradling her little blonde head in her hands, like the weight of her thoughts had been too much to bear.
"Is it Gilgamesh?"
He nearly missed the little nod she did, tucked into her arms as she was.
"What happened?"
A few moments of silence passed before she straightened, the faraway look returning to her face. He could now pinpoint where she was looking, a large mansion on the rural side of Fuyuki. The only thing brightly lit on that corner of the city. Arturia bit her lip, debating whether or not opening up to her brother was the best thing to do. He nudged her then, coaxing the answer out.
Arturia held herself, the moment coming back to her.
Up til then, Gilgamesh was a thorn on her side, a constant pain, an annoyance she couldn't be rid of. He followed her when she avoided him, managed to weasel himself into her workplace so he could bother her even there, stole kisses on her neck when she was vulnerable. Every time she could see just a sliver of kindness, he'd go and do something that reminded her of the cruel man who toyed with her in the Grail War.
And then there was that stupid elevator. They hardly had time to think when the ceiling smashed into their skulls, leaving them in a daze. She pulled him to herself as the instinctual need to protect kicked in. As she felt gravity hurl them to the ground, a million different scenarios flashed through her mind. Should she aim a strike air to cushion their fall further? Should she summon Excalibur and drive it through the metal to slow their fall? She didn't know, she couldn't know.
And then, for the first time, she felt Gilgamesh wrap his arms around her waist, his natural warmth seeping through her clothes as they fell. She felt her blood tingle in her veins, felt her whole system suddenly come alive as if she was electrocuted. The last thing she remembered was the familiar scent of wine that followed the King of Heroes wherever he went.
And then they were gone.
When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by the familiar scene of the tower lobby, while the buzzing in her blood began to fade and then-
CLANG!
Arturia would have flinched if the arms encircling her torso would allow, but all she could do was watch the remains of the iron doors of the busted elevator clatter to the floor. The lobby was a mess, metal debris and glass strewn about like the aftermath wrought by a cannonball. Her ears rang from the horrid sound, but she was dimly aware of being shifted away from the carnage, shielded by a body that was not her own.
She stammered a weak "How?" as Gilgamesh finally gave her room to breathe, and with all of the chaos, Arturia wasn't even sure that he heard it. When he met her eyes, he had no answers. No, for the first very time since she'd known him, Gilgamesh looked unsure. But the moment was gone before she could think too much of it, and suddenly his hands were on her sides, her legs, and finally cupping her face, his snake-like irises darting from side to side with urgency.
"Arturia-"
"I'm...I'm alright," she whispered, the adrenaline from the fall leaving the both of them winded. "Are...are you?"
No sooner had she spoken did a drop of red trickle down his temple and dropped to the floor from his chin. Arturia immediately felt her pockets for her handkerchief and pressed it to the small cut by his hairline. This was by no means the largest wound Gilgamesh had suffered, and of course it was far, far off from the most painful. They've had their share of wars, they both knew that. But Gilgamesh leaned into her touch anyway, stroking her cheek like he had to make sure she was real.
He knew the look she was giving him was strange, but it was the furthest thing from his mind as he scanned her figure for any more damage other than where the glass had cut her on her head. His teeth gnashed together as he was reminded this little girl had the gall to try to protect him. He wasn't some defenseless maiden in need of rescue, he was Gilgamesh, for the gods' sakes. The first king, the greatest king.
This vacuous, asinine woman. If she hadn't moved, if she had just let him react he could have summoned weapons from the gate to stop their descent. But no. She had so easily reduced herself to a flesh cushion, intending to throw away her life for his as if hers mattered less .
Metal chunks clattered to the floor behind him, their deathly clangs reminding him of what could have been their fate if he hadn't used the Gate of Babylon to get them out of there in the last second. Ea, he wasn't even sure that would work. The only ones who were ever permitted within the gate were himself and things he considered-
Gilgamesh stiffened, his thumb ceasing to draw those comforting circles on Arturia's cheek. He was aware of her lips moving, but her words were mere droplets in the thunderous ocean of thoughts storming within his mind.
Arturia's eyes were on his, the lines between her brows telling him she worried.
"That was a fool's act, woman."
He felt the pressure on his wound release, felt her slowly, painfully pull away from his touch, but he wouldn't let that happen, not after he'd almost just lost her. She protested, voice raised and cracking about how it was instinct, how she would never let someone else die if she could help it, about how it was better at least one of them got out alive. He bit back with the same amount of force, holding her still as he brought out a small cloth from his treasury and wiped away the blood at her temple.
This was the second time she'd gotten hurt under his watch. It was just a scratch, courtesy of stray pieces of glass, no bigger than his thumb, but it was the fact that she had the wound at all that made him feel like so much less than he was. And just that thought was wrong.
Whatever he said on autopilot must have upset her, because before he could do anything, she'd wrestled herself from his arms and stormed off, leaving behind the silk handkerchief she had used to stop the bleeding on his head. Only then did Gilgamesh notice the other mongrels filling up the lobby, and he promptly left.
Arturia would then head on home to Kay, and confess everything that went on until then.
Kay blinked himself back to the present, finding a pair of devilish red eyes studying him curiously.
"What is it, mongrel?"
Kay broke eye contact to look over to his sister, now sandwiched between the shoulders of the two Lancers they had over for dinner a while ago. His heart clenched so tightly Kay could imagine it had been seized by a demon, for the scene looked so familiar he could almost see Gawain and himself in their places, watching Bedivere and Lancelot duke it out to determine who would buy the first round of drinks at the pub just outside the castle.
Add Gilgamesh into the mix, and it was like Arturia was being set up for another tragic ending.
"My name is Kay," he stressed, to which Gilgamesh shrugged, and laid back on his pillows to relax. The king's red eyes once again sought out their favorite target, only to see her practically land in the dog's lap as the mongrels bickered.
The blonde king's eyes narrowed. Despite how easily he feigned indifference, Kay was sharp enough to sense his envy, and the knight quietly watched as Gilgamesh twirled his cup of wine in his hand.
"It's the mad dog's victory," he interjected, loud enough to pull Arturia's attention to himself and shut the mongrels up for a change. "You know this, King of Knights."
Sure enough, Kay gave the current fight a glance and just saw Bedivere eyeing the mats like he had been since the start.
Bollocks. All Kay wanted was a second chance at giving Arturia a good life. One that she could enjoy, one where she could smile and laugh, one that gave her the time stolen from her when she pulled the sword from the stone. But given what he knew about Bedivere and Lance, what he'd seen with Gilgamesh, and what he suspected from the dark-haired Adonis that sat next to his sister, he thought there was far too much excitement around for his liking.
It was as if Arturia had her own field of gravity, constantly pulling others in just as she had before, except this time her reach extended through the sands of time, further back than the first century even. He knew it was useless to counteract this force. Arturia was fated to be loved in many different forms by many different people, some ways worse than others, he thought, watching Lancelot lunge at Bedi with all his might.
Kay got up and made his way to the big barrels of wine Iskandar brought, honestly considering drowning himself in one of them. And maybe then, he still wouldn't be drunk enough to handle the drama.
"He's right. Bedivere's distracted."
Arturia was looking at him with an I-can't-believe-you're -agreeing-with-him look and questioned him about his statement, but he couldn't bother to say anything more, too busy with finding himself the biggest cup they had. He'd need to down a few litres to survive the night.
A few drinks later, Kay plopped back down next to Merlin at the edge of Gilgamesh's rug, only very vaguely aware that the match was over, with Lancelot as the victor. Arturia was smiling at her two knights when they returned to the mats, a rather touching scene. It was immediately followed by the comedy of Arturia offering her hand to Cú to help him off the mats like a gentleman would do.
There were technically only six participants, which meant:
"Hope yer ready for me to beat your fine ass, Arturia~" Cú teased, letting her pull him to his feet.
The challenge burning in her eyes should have been a warning, but all it did was spur Cú on. It would be his victory today, gods be damned.
"Confident, are we?" Arturia rolled her eyes and pulled Excalibur out from nowhere, spinning the holy sword in her hands for good measure as she accompanied Cú to their little arena. The formerly smooth sandy surface was now littered with potholes and little hills, proof of the intensity the first two fights held. T'was a fitting stage for a duel like theirs: Ireland's Child of Light versus Camelot's Once and Future King.
When they were in place and out of earshot, Cú cut the sand with Gae Bolg, sweeping his weapon in a straight line between them. "Say, King of Knights, how about a wager?"
"I begin to fear your confidence has turned to arrogance, friend," she remarked, but the asymmetrical curve of her lip told Cú the king was more interested than she seemed.
He jutted out his thumb and pressed it to his chest. "If I get the win, you- " he pointed at her to emphasize his point, "-have to do one thing I ask of you, no exceptions."
Arturia's eyebrow rose. "And if the victory is mine?"
Cú smirked, leaning his spear on his shoulder out of habit. "Unlikely," he admonished, reveling in the frown that tugged on the corner of her mouth. "But if it is, ya have the privilege of applying the same condition to me, girlie."
The urge to tease the little king was far too tempting to resist. "Oh, but nothing too indecent of course," he flirted, throwing in a wink as was his nature.
A puff of air left her lips, the ends of them curling upwards as she ran a hand through her bangs and down her messy blonde ponytail. "Accepted."
The competitors launched themselves at each other before Iskandar could even get up to start the match, charging each other like two raging bulls in a pen. The customary touching of their weapons quickly turned into an intense battle of strength and endurance where one gained ground and lost it as quickly as the blink of an eye. But from sparring with each other as often as they did, they both knew this wouldn't last.
Arturia's heel dug itself into the sand as Cú ramped up the pressure, the sharp screeching of metal echoing all across the cove as Gae Bolg shakily gained ground against the holy blade. One inch, another, and soon the Irishman was hanging over Arturia so closely the alcohol in his breath made her flutter her lashes. Behind his spear, Cú was grinning like a madman given freedom, tasting his victory sooner than he thought.
So he only had his ego to thank for not anticipating what happened next.
Quick as lightning, she threw herself to the right, redirecting his spear to the ground and completing the rotation as the force of Gae Bolg produced a dust cloud. With his spear impaled in the sand and him ducked forward from inertia, his neck was in plain sight.
Of course, she thought, as she found Cú's large hand encasing her right wrist, he wasn't going to make it this easy. The cheeky bastard was full-on smirking now as she tried to push on anyway, his free hand running down the shaft of his weapon and pulling it out of the beach.
"Tsk, Arturia," he tutted, shaking his head as he thrust his weapon to her chest, "you know that's not going to work."
Arturia broke free of his grip with a tricky maneuver of her hand and retreated just out of the red spear's reach as her competition yelped in pain.
"Oi oi oi, you dint have to do that!" he yelled at her, flopping his hand in the air to ease the sting. It always entertained Arturia how comfortable Cú looked in battle, like he had been born for the sole purpose of being a warrior. As she closed the small distance between them, sword at the ready, she could almost predict the way he'd whip his spear up to block, with the wild arching slashes that were his go-to.
The force from the impact sent them both skidding backwards on their heels, but like coiled springs, they were upon each other again in the next instant, with Cú's spear meeting her Excalibur blow for blow. The grin on his face had gone feral, the sparks from their clashing weapons illuminating the excitement on his countenance.
And then he was laughing, drifting and kicking up sand as Arturia successfully cast him backward with an upward slash of her blade. Cú pressed a thumb to his cheek, putting pressure on the cut she managed to leave there despite having the shorter weapon. This woman was bloody miraculous, sneaking a scratch when he hadn't the chance to even nick her!
Even now, in the moonlight, she stood with a radiance Cú had never seen with anyone else, confident, barely even winded after that frantic exchange. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he recalled the first time they'd met, where she'd defied every single fecking expectation he had of how that battle would go. Really, what kind of bloody Servant could dodge a blow that reversed Cause and Effect?
"You, woman," he declared, pausing to lick the blood of his finger, "Are one hell of a fighter."
Arturia straightened from her stance to pay the compliment back, feeling her bones creak after the innumerable attacks she'd made and blocked. Sometimes she cursed her small frame, for her frequent sparring partners were both so damn heavy it took more effort on her part to counteract the weight. But anyone who knew her also knew she loved a challenge, and a challenge was everything Cú was.
"So are you." And she dashed across the field to meet his blade once again.
As Arturia and Cú furiously exchanged blows, the King of Conquerors allowed his eyes a brief respite, noticing the group of knights behind him.
Arturia's brother was reaching for another cup of drink even after seemingly consuming more than half the barrel. The blonde knight from the second fight was trying and failing to keep the alcohol from the former, while the victor of the last round wasn't even on the mats. Lancelot chose to lean against the cliff, observing Arturia's fight quietly, without even partaking of the food.
Lastly, the white-haired mage was lounging on the far corner of the mats, feeding himself grapes. He didn't even look like he held any interest in the fight at all. In fact, the white mage was looking straight at him with those eerie purple eyes and shaking his head.
Iskandar knew not what that could be about. But, since the King of Knights was out on the field, wholly occupied by Ireland's very own Child of Light, he decided to shoot his shot and ask her loyal subjects the burning questions in his mind.
"So...you lot are the King of Knights' main cavalry, yes?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at the small group.
It was the blonde who responded. "I...suppose."
One of his eyebrows was raised, the man skeptical about where this conversation was going. In the corner of Iskandar's vision he could see Merlin sigh, shake his head, and smile as he flopped backward onto his pillow.
"Ever wish you served under someone better?"
No sooner had he spoken did he feel a sword's tip pressing into the side of his neck. "It's a bold move, to insult our king while she stands a mere distance from here," Bedivere spoke calmly, his voice eerily level as he now stood behind the King of Conquerors like he had always been there.
Even Medusa looked surprised as she sat up. One moment Bedivere was next to Kay, and in a blink he was here.
"Did you think we would simply stand by and watch while you sully her honor?"
Bedivere's sword pressed harder against the thin layer of skin protecting the man's jugular, enough to leave an imprint, but just shy of breaking it.
The King of Conquerors raised his hands in surrender. "'Twas just a small query, Saber's knight," he shrugged, looking up at the one-armed knight without any fear whatsoever.
"I can not imagine serving that dreaming little girl and her impossible ideals."
Loud, near-hysterical laughter filled the little cove, coming from one Mesopotamian king. "Iskandar, you absolute mongrel buffoon! All this time you had failed to comprehend something so simple? It seems you are indeed as thick as that physique of yours!" His words were distorted, cut off by loud chuckles as he threw his head back.
Iskandar's eyes didn't move from Bedivere, even as the blonde king continued to ridicule him in the background. At this point, Bedivere was wearing an expression he knew all too well from being around Gilgamesh too long. Disgust.
He wasn't the only one. Far off in the corner, he could just see Lancelot seething, looking more and more like his mad self in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Diarmuid was opening his mouth and closing it, not knowing what to say. Merlin was still shaking his head.
But it wasn't them who spoke next.
"Ah, so that's it then?" Kay asked, tutting and shaking his head. He sat up, leveling his scarred set of eyes with that of Iskandar's with an air of authority that made the large man suddenly feel like David to kay's Goliath.
The night was silent save for the metal clashes between Cú and Arturia as all watched Kay take a long drink of wine, the few seconds that ticked by as he gulped down the liquid feeling like could cut the tension in the air with a knife, as it was like a string pulled taught, just a little tug away from snapping completely.
"Merlin told us all about you, you know?" Kay murmured finally, the warmth in his chestnut eyes replaced by a chill that turned them muddy. "Your conduct around our king in the Fourth Holy Grail War."
With a wave of his hand, Kay dismissed Bedivere's little stint, without once taking his eyes off of Iskandar's. Reluctantly, the blonde withdrew his sword from the latter's neck, but the moment he saw Kay's eyes he retreated. Strangers would mistake such a placid facade for calmness, but Bedivere knew Kay like the back of his hand.
Kay only ever looked like that when he was about to wage war.
"I read your history, arsehole," he began, speaking with the bark of an alpha. Just the tone of his voice nearly made his target flinch, stifling any urges the other Servants had to interrupt him.
"The Great Alexander III of Macedon," he mocked, each syllable dripping with a sarcasm so thick one could choke on it. "Riding across the continent reaching for a distant goal like a madman, inspiring all those who he came across," he stated, swiping his hands in front of him like he was spelling out the words. Iskandar had the gall to smirk like he was flattered, but Kay wasn't fazed.
"Only for you to die without ever seeing it, and leave your followers to scatter your legacy in favor of their own greed," he finished, with a bite in his tone even he didn't know he had. Iskandar's smile went out like a light.
Bedivere's head flicked to his friend the moment the words left his mouth. Kay sat there, unarmored, in the most unassuming clothes a modern man could wear. But with the look in his eyes, the immense pressure he exuded, he might as well have been aiming his greatsword to strike.
"Funny," Kay snorted, the salty smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes. "You lived the way you did to inspire your followers to be just like you. And in their attempt to do so in your absence, they shattered the unity you created."
He was pointing fingers as he spat his insults, every word striking Iskandar like a blade to his chest because Kay was right. And he knew it. But Kay wasn't finished, the fire in his eyes was burning much too hot for that.
"Recent studies say you were poisoned when you died, oh Great Alexander. Poisoned like the rest of your kin," he said, scratching his stubbly chin in mock contemplation. "Hmmmm...it really makes me wonder if you inspired envy along with admiration in the hearts of that little army of yours-"
"I do not regret the way my life ended, knight," Iskandar retorted, the wide, confident smile on his face looking far more strained than it should have.
" Wrong, " Kay bit back, his words cutting him off so fiercely that the large man lost his train of thought. "If you had no regrets, you wouldn't be summoned, Rider . You wished for reincarnation because you died so young, your little conquest cut short. I bet you felt so foolish on your deathbed, taking acres of land, fucking all those men and women, pillaging food and wine only to find that all that would never be enough because you died before you could ever reach your full potential."
Iskandar's mouth opened then closed, his voice faltering in his throat before he could form any words. He could feel Medusa's soothing touch on his thigh, could hear her whisper his name with a concern he'd never before experienced with her. He closed his hand around hers, using her warmth to ground himself.
"Face it king, maybe you say you tried to live your life to the fullest, inspiring all those that followed you, but in the end, those same people, whose conquered hearts gave you your title, took conquest itself away from you by prematurely ending your life," Kay said, the finality of his tone making it seem that he was sheathing his weapon after the fight of his life.
"And that dreaming little girl you call king is any better?" Iskandar asked, interrupting Kay as he took a swig of wine. "Wasn't her reign ended by one of your own as well?"
A few beats passed in silence as Kay tipped the drink to his lips and then stared down at the red liquid, swirling it in his hands. Some part of him couldn't believe he was even having this conversation, but the other parts told him it was inevitable. The day Merlin recounted to him and Bedivere the events of the Fourth Holy Grail War, the day he found out what this Red King dared say about his beloved sister's reign, he knew it was going to happen. He just didn't know when.
He contemplated honesty, telling the King of Conquerors what he really thought of her abnegation. After all, even after all this time he still hadn't forgiven Merlin for pushing Arturia's self-negating tendencies so far. Like the wizard could read his thoughts, his brown eyes met the latter's purple ones and saw approval.
"She wasn't— isn't —perfect," Kay said decisively, taking a moment to appreciate Arturia's smiling face in the distance as she jumped over Cú's red spear. "She followed those impossible, altruistic ideals to death. She was always terribly selfless, spending every ounce of love in her system for her kingdom and people til there was nothing left for herself. It's just who she is."
Iskandar had a look of satisfaction in his face, as if Kay's words had somehow proven to him that they didn't think too highly for her as the King of Conquerors had figured. Oddly enough, it was Gilgamesh who now looked contemplative, the amused glint in his eye throughout Kay's rundown of Iskandar's life disappearing into the depths of the king's snake-like irises.
"You're right in thinking Arty wasn't admired like you were," Kay continued, remembering his days as a knight in Camelot, remembering the voices that whispered in town and in the halls.
"She wasn't feared, like the King of Heroes was," he listed, feeling Gilgamesh's eyes on himself again, but he didn't focus on that. Kay remembered all their discussions on the Round Table, where everyone could have a voice, where even the poorest marched in to plead for help.
"She never kept riches, never enjoyed meals, never so much as smiled for her own bloody sake. She didn't inspire people to want her painful existence—"
Now Iskandar was full-on smug, reveling in his correctness.
"But she was loved," Bedivere interjected loudly, pulling everyone's attention to him. He was quivering with feeling, his one fist closed so tightly his knuckles went white. The most loyal knight turned to the King of Conquerors, his green eyes aflame with burning emotion.
"Deeply," he said, enunciating every word. " Irrevocably, by every single heart that beat in her kingdom."
Some more than others. Bedivere thought, sneaking a look back at Lancelot, whose anger extinguished itself as the sullen man glanced up at where Arturia had just flipped back into a fighting stance, eyes full of fight as she faced her opponent.
Bedivere's declaration resounded in the small cove, sending shivers up the spines of those who could hear.
Even Diarmuid, who felt like an outsider on this discussion on kingship, couldn't deny the impact Bedivere's words had on him. It made the spearman recount the years he spent serving his lord, now thinking them a waste. 'Twas clear now that Arturia treated all her warriors with such high regard that they harbored attachment beyond mere loyal service. And if her knights were this way, he could only imagine what life was like under her rule, if indeed she used her riches to give back to her people.
Gilgamesh looked between Arturia's knights with a rare curiosity. He had already ascertained her worth decades ago, but hearing her own knights elaborate on that matter in person was like icing on the cake. Iskandar's bewildered expressions were the sprinkles on top. It baffled him, how every day her value as a treasure continued to grow, far past his expectations. Now, he wanted her more fervently than ever before. Maybe coming to this mongrel-infested gathering was not as bad of an experience he thought. Plus, Kay was more articulate than he would expect from the silly mongrel, his arguments were sound despite the sarcastic tone he employed.
"Unlike your followers, who buried you in gold and honey to honor your death and life, sealed you in a tomb to close your chapter in the great tales of history, none of us ever wished for Arturia's reign to end," Kay added at Iskandar's non-reply. "When we sent her off to sea, all our prayers were for her safe return."
The red king remained speechless, subconsciously stroking his beard as he processed Kay's words. He couldn't exactly retort, because deep within him, he knew the man had not said anything that wasn't the truth. In fact, the man had illuminated the mysteries surrounding Iskandar's untimely death, which until then was mostly speculation.
And it did...hurt a little, but he supposed it was inevitable. As Kay had said, it was a direct result of the way he chose to rule his subjects.
His silence was all the confirmation Kay needed to know he'd dealt a heavy blow. All there was left to do was finish him off.
"Had you been there," he continued, dredging up the painful memory of his final goodbye to his sister and king, "perhaps you wouldn't have been so blind to her true value. Thousands upon thousands, men, women, children, faeries even, assembled on the beach despite the rain and thunder. There were enough of us that not a single space of the shore was left unoccupied. And all of them, young and old, praying to whatever deity they knew of that she'd come back to them."
That was true. Even if Kay hadn't interviewed all of Camelot's citizens, he could tell they shared the same sentiments as his fellow knights. They all wore the same grieving expression, the kind that looked like they were begging for a second chance.
"Even now, you can still see remnants of those prayers. They call her the Once and Future King in modern texts, did you know that?" he asked, looking away from the drink in his hands to meet Iskandar's eyes once more. "The Once and Future King, said to return to save Britain on its darkest day."
For the first time that night, the red king looked unsure. Good. Let him doubt the judgment he levied on Arturia.
"I know for a fact your people would never wish for the same. Not with the way you led them. Bollocks, I'd go so far as to say even the King of Heroes' knows this of his people and accepts it."
Gilgamesh shrugged when Iskandar turned to him, his trademark arrogant smirk resuming its place on his countenance.
Kay had already won this battle of wits. Anything Iskandar said beyond this point would only make him seem he was grasping at straws, and that was never a good look for a king. So, Kay decided to be the mature one and hit the last nail on the coffin, hoping Iskandar wouldn't dare open this topic up again. Especially not in front of Arturia. The red king had already dealt enough damage to her psyche.
"Do not measure the worth of our king by your standards alone, Iskandar. It's unseemly for one of your status," Kay admonished, not even bothering to hide his disdain.
There was an air of finality in his last statement that hindered anyone else in the gathering from speaking their mind, but Bedivere wasn't satisfied, suddenly perking up like he'd just remembered something.
"To answer your question. I believe I speak for everyone here when I say I would never lay down my life for anyone else. I have never regretted serving as her knight and I never will. For as long as I live and even dead. For everyone on the Round Table, for everyone who ever lived in her kingdom, there is no king, no being on this Earth who could ever be better," the knight proclaimed proudly, not a shred of doubt in his voice.
Iskandar was now entirely at a loss for words. Looking around, despite being the largest in the gathering, he felt he had been cornered. Gilgamesh was giving him mock pity, Diarmuid gave him comforting eyes. But worst of all was Merlin, who sighed and shook his head.
I warned you not to go through with it. The wizard's eyes said.
For the first time in a while, Iskandar felt entirely alone.
So, he tilted his head back, let out a laugh that could have shaken the world to its core.
"Fine," he said, arms akimbo as he shook his head in surrender. "I owe you lot an apology for even thinking I could sway you to my side."
He got up and extended his hand to Kay, the friendly and jovial nature Iskandar was famous for returning to his face. "She really must be something, if her knights defend her as valiantly and fiercely as you do."
Kay took his hand and shook it, mirroring Iskandar's smile. "Glad you finally see it."
