Uruk
Gilgamesh watched Arturia carefully as the servant poured her fifth cup for her. She had certainly kept up with the Macedonian king and himself. There wasn't any way she could really out drink him or the redheaded behemoth.
Was there?
"You certainly have a lot of spirit, Pendragon," said Iskander, leaning back against the frame of a handsome olive-skinned fellow. His cheeks rosy, words a bit run together, but the man could hold his spirits just as well.
"He has an ungodly constitution," said the knight on Arturia's right. "We believe Merlin cast something on him as a babe."
The other two knights' stoic facades broke into fits of chuckling. Even Arturia smirked at their amusement, or perhaps it was pride, but it faded as she met Gilgamesh's eyes again.
What is wrong with her? He thought, hoping the wine perhaps might bring out some honesty, ideally not around the current company. Even then, he watched as she tipped the goblet back, downing it and setting it down with a confident thunk against the low set table.
"So, Iskander," she said, not a single slur in her voice as she turned to the other king. "I've heard you are on a campaign across the eastern lands. Yet Babylon seems to remain a gap in your conquering."
Gilgamesh's spine stiffened at her blunt nature. Perhaps the alcohol was affecting her. Iskander, too, looked taken aback.
"You would be correct," he said after a moment of pause. "Truth be told, I learned from my father how to pick my battles." His gaze flickered over to Gilgamesh. "Babylon is a jewel far too large for my coffers to hold. And there are lands beyond that I can conquer. My ultimate goal is the end of the world. Oceanus." His lips parted in a wide, confident grin. "I wish to look over the edge of the world and know it belongs to me."
"A lofty goal," Arturia countered, already holding her goblet out for more wine, but instead of drinking more, she set it down to sample the food provided. "Why east?"
"It's closer," Iskander answered simply. "I will return for the west once I've reached one end first."
"And should I expect you peacefully on my shores?" she asked. Gilgamesh felt a pit forming in his stomach, wondering if the tension was merely in his head or shared between the three kings. Even so, Iskander's grin never faded.
"Perhaps," he said, waving his goblet around. "I would like to see how your side of the world lives out its days."
A smirk perked on Arturia's thin lips.
"With great strength and endurance," she answered honestly. "I must admit our climate is not nearly as temperate as I've seen thus far while in Uruk." She shrugged. "We have little to be coveted on our humble land, but it is ours, no matter how frigid and unforgiving."
"Why choose to settle in such a place?"
"We've always been there. It has belonged to us for generations." Her gaze shifted briefly to Gilgamesh. "We often cannot help the hand we've been dealt, merely what we do with it."
More than anything he wanted to know what was going on in her head. He wished there was not another king between them, or their consorts, their knights, or their generals. He craved a moment alone with her, simply to talk. He wondered, what had gotten into him, why he yearned for such an intimacy he had never shared with anyone but Enkidu. She had bewitched him somehow.
"Oh come now, old friend," an old voice pierced through the guests' murmuring, a swish of spring green hair in the corner of the king's eyes. "You know exactly what stirs in your heart. You're simply as stubborn as she."
Gilgamesh did not acknowledge the ghost that plagued his mind, ignoring the image that walked around the feast hall.
The conversation continued on as if there was not some sort of unseen fissure between him and Arturia. She spent most of the evening keeping up with the two men's drinking, conversing with Iskander, keeping Gilgamesh at an arm's length, as it were. She said little to nothing to his priests, namely Kissare, who occasionally spoke, but mostly kept to herself. She was a quiet soul, one of the few who had Gilgamesh's true respect.
"So this Akitu," Iskander said, peeling a chunk of lamb off the bone with his teeth. "It is a long affair it seems."
"It is," Arturia answered for the Babylonian, but then turned her icy gaze towards him. "We are on, what, day six?"
Gilgamesh held her gaze, trying to see past the wall of green that gave him little more than a distance he wish he could close.
"Yes," he said. "It is the sixth. Akitu is halfway through its celebrations."
"Quite a festive affair indeed," Arturia added, raising her goblet to her lips. "I hear the best is yet to come too."
"Oh?" said Iskander. "Why is that?"
Gilgamesh felt as if he were sinking deeper and deeper into a trap he had not seen coming. Arturia broke her eyes from his to address Iskander.
"Oh, I hear it's splendid," she continued. "Mock battles of the gods. Great pyres in tribute to those who were victorious. The king himself gets to play out this grand marriage to one of their patron goddesses." Her eyes shot back to Gilgamesh and he felt them pierce him like daggers. "It's quite an honor, I hear, and quite...as you said, an affair."
"She knows," said Enkidu, standing suddenly so close to Gilgamesh. "Do you really think you could have avoided this?"
She knew. Gods, why had he not said anything earlier? Truth be told, he had not thought much of the ceremonial wedding between him and Kissare. It wasn't real. None of it was. Of course, he had indulged in his position, taken pleasure in it. What man wouldn't?
He looked down into the wine rippling in his cup, and then back to where the priestess ate and drank in silence, seemingly unbothered by the conversation. Of course, she had no idea the weight carried between the two kings.
Why did it feel so heavy in his heart now? Why was it manifesting in guilt rather than desire?
His mind wandered to ceremonies in the past. In truth, he greatly respected Kissare, and their relationship had always been that, ceremonial. Intimate, yes, but he had never felt more for her than the faux roles they played once in a year, and the respect of someone he considered a friend and confidant. It was, as Arturia had said, their own little affair, like all the affairs he treated himself to.
His appetite had never brought him shame. He was king, entitled to whatever and whoever he wanted. Why did this bother him so?
"Well," Iskander bellowed, heartily laughing. "Babylonians certainly know how to throw a party. I look forward to partaking in the remaining celebrations."
When Gilgamesh looked up, Arturia had set down her once more empty goblet, looking around at the now barren plates before her. The evening had been whisked away like a single breath. Or perhaps Gilgamesh had been lost in his own thoughts for most of it.
"I have a strong sense that you will enjoy the festivities," Arturia said while she stood, still steady as a rock even after she had drunk so much. Gilgamesh wondered how her constitution was truly fairing, and how much of it was an impressive facade.
"Are you retiring already?" said Iskander. "The night is so-" he glanced out the wide-open windows, blinking at the rising moon. "-Oh, I suppose it is not so young after all, heheh."
She gave a small, but confident smirk at Iskander, her gaze flickering once more at Gilgamesh.
"I said I could hold my drink," she said. "But these grandiose feasts drain me more than the wine. I would prefer some time in solitude and contemplation."
Iskander chuckled.
"If you say so," he said, leaning back against his companion again. Gilamesh noticed an affection between him and the man, something deeper than a simple consort. Were they lovers? Something more?
"Something you've never really known," Enkidu said, sitting next to Gilgamesh, leaning on him even though the king felt no touch from the ghost. "Until now of course, but you've always been a stubborn, selfish soul."
Gilgamesh winced, the words of the phantom image piercing him, a pang of shame filling his gut like cold water.
"Goodnight, Gilgamesh, Iskander." Arturia gave a small bow of her head and, with her knights in tow, turned to leave. "I thank you for this feast and conversation."
The king left with her knights, and Gilgamesh felt a tugging in his chest, a longing to go after her.
"You'll never feel peace until you admit what's weighting in your heart old friend."
"Iskander," Gilgamesh said, pushing away the image of his dead friend. "Your company has been quite entertaining. Feel free to take advantage of the spirits and food my palace has to offer."
"You also sound as if you are going to retire," said the young king with another cocky grin. "I do suppose you have been doing quite a lot of celebrating these past few days."
Gilgamesh did not look his way, staring at the door Arturia had taken. She was not headed back to her chambers. If not there, then where?
"Indeed," he said, rising to his feet as well. His priests rose with him in respect and waited for him to make his leave.
"Do enjoy your stay," Gilgamesh added before taking his leave, not waiting for Iskander to respond. His behavior was strange and erratic, he knew it. It would draw the gazes of those who knew him most, but he didn't care.
"It's going to eat you alive," said Enkidu, his voice following the king down his grand halls. "Why can't you just accept it?"
Once free from his priest's accompaniment, he padded down the grand halls of his palace, following the path Arturia had taken.
She was headed to the gardens.
"Accept what?" Gilgamesh said through his teeth, his pace quickening through the halls, to the place where it all began. Enkidu chuckled, a gentle bell-like laugh.
"Oh Gilgamesh," he said gently, his voice bouncing around in the kings head. "You love her."
Fuyuki Sewers
Irisviel awoke, but she could hardly move. She likely still appeared to be asleep. Through her thin eyelids, a bright red glow illuminated from beneath her.
Even then, she realized she was trapped in a magic circle.
She had been taken.
The air smelled putrid, burnt, and hung heavy with moisture. And it was cold.
The last thing she had remembered was the Servant, Rider bursting through the walls of the shed Irisviel had made the workshop.
Maiya had been cut down.
And she had been taken.
Irisviel struggled to open her eyes. Where was she now?
"I know you are awake," said a voice that belonged to neither Rider nor his young Master. She slowly opened her eyes, her face inches away from a pair of snakeskin pants. Her albino ruby eyes trailed up the figure to see Archer, free of his armor, standing over her.
"Wh-" She mustered up the strength to find her voice. "Archer. You did this."
He looked down on her like he did to everyone, but his eyes were void of pride or contempt. If anything, he looked melancholy.
Irisviel was unaware the Servant was capable of feeling such an emotional spectrum.
"A collaborative effort I assure you," said Archer, his arms crossed. "But an effort of my design, I must admit."
"All this time-"
"Nothing has changed about my motivations throughout this entire war, homunculus," the Servant spoke firmly over her. "I've simply had to adapt in order to achieve my goal."
Irisviel frowned, pushing herself up onto her elbows to meet his glare.
"Everything you said," she said, anger fueling her weak body, "was just a strategy to get to the Grail wasn't it?"
Archer frowned, his shoes shifting audibly against the gritty dirty cement underfoot.
"Why would I have bothered saving you from Caster if my goal was simply to win at all costs?" he said. "I understand you think me a monster, but the truth is, all I want her."
Irisviel let out a weak noise that was supposed to have been a laugh. Even now, facing down the most dangerous entity she had encountered yet, she found fear could not find it's way into her heart. Perhaps it was because she knew, somewhere in the back of her head, that she wasn't going to make it out of here alive, whether that be with the enemy or with Kiritsugu's victory. She was destined, crafted even, to be the vessel for the Grail.
Death was not a welcome thought, but it was not one she feared facing down the King of Heroes.
"She doesn't want you," she said, her voice shaking. "She wants what Kiritsugu wants. Besides, what will you do? Kill her Master? If he dies, she disappears."
"You seem to be forgetting the reason we're all in this war," said Archer, narrowing his eyes at her. "The Holy Grail is a powerful wish-granting relic. If I win, I can have anything or anyone that I want, dead or alive."
Irisviel snickered as she held herself up on her hands and knees.
"You don't know anything about the Grail," she said weakly. "You have no idea of its true capabilities. It could grant us peace, an end to war and suffering everywhere. But you, just like everyone else, want to squander it on personal gain." She looked up at him. "Tell me, Archer, does Tokiomi Tohsaka intend to wish for Saber on your behalf?"
There was a twitch under the Servant's left eye, his frown deepening.
"What do you mean?"
"And, even then," she continued, not answering his question, "do you think the Grail would forfeit both your soul and Saber's through which the very wish itself is powered? No. It requires all seven of you." She met his gaze. "Do you wonder why the Masters preserve their Command Seals so carefully?"
Archer did not answer, waiting silently for her to answer. And she did.
"The wish was never for you," she sneered. "The Grail requires seven Heroic Spirits. Seven souls. You won't live long enough to see the victory, Archer. You'll just be with the rest of us. Dead and consumed."
The Servant was quiet for a long while. A light dripping of water could be heard from somewhere inside the vast dark underground tunnel.
"So it is true," he said, leaning down to look her over. "The priest mentioned something about you being a vessel, but I thought it rather strange, biased perhaps, that you would be under the care of the Einzberns and not a neutral party in this War."
Irisviel grit her teeth.
"The Einzberns support Kiritsugu Emiya's ideals, and believe it is best for the world." She took a breath, growing accustomed to her weakening organs. "How could you not want a peaceful world? A world without conflict and pain."
Archer grit his teeth, standing up straight again to look around the room, as if studying it.
"Because that's impossible," he said flatly. "Humanity at its core is driven by pain. Fear of pain is what brought us to where we are today." He glanced down at her. "Some even enjoy it, homunculus."
Irisviel winced.
"You're a monster," she hissed.
"On the contrary," he said, lowering himself on the balls of his feet, his expensive-looking shoes grinding against the gritty wet ground. "I'm as much a human as…" He tilted his head as his gaze pierced her. "...well, not you of course." He reached forward, his long slender fingertips tilting her head up to face him more squarely. "I'm more human than the excuse of a man you call a husband. At least my goals are realistic."
"A woman who doesn't want you?" she countered, too weak to move from his touch.
"You think you know everything about her and what lies locked away in her heart," he said. "You think what you've read in stories written and rewritten over time is all you'll ever learn about her." His bloody gaze narrowed. "Tell me, how did she die in her past life?"
The question caught her off guard. He was baiting her, or playing with her, but which, she could not tell.
"She...she was betrayed," she answered carefully, "by a division of knights turned against her. At the Battle of Camlann, she was struck down by her...son…"
Archer's brow perked, almost in amusement at her faltering logic, as if he could see her trying to connect the puzzle pieces that couldn't possibly fit.
"And who gave her that-" he chuckled dryly and shook his head. "- that 'son?'"
Irisviel found herself unable to answer, and for a while, a heavy silence hung in the air between them as Archer stared her down, waiting.
"Well?" he prompted. Irisviel shook her head.
"Merlin must have had something to do with it."
"God, you're such a stubborn lot in this day and age," Archer groaned, releasing Irisviel, tossing her down onto the glowing lines of the magic circle. "It doesn't matter. When I get my wish, I won't have to worry about this century ever again."
Irisviel splayed her hands against the ground for support, pushing herself back up.
"What are you saying?"
The golden-haired Servant stood up straight once more, brushing down his shirt even though he had not touched the dirty ground.
"Thosaka is dead," he said, turning to the darkness that surrounded them. "And so will follow anyone else who gets in my way."
Won't have to worry about this century, Irisviel thought, pondering over his words. Is he going to use his wish to go back?
Before she could think more of it, the flash of his jewelry in a new golden light above his head caught her eye. A small window to his Gates of Babylon opened up as he turned one more time to face her. Dread filled her bones.
"This will likely break her heart," he said coldly, looking back down at her. "But you can at least take comfort in the fact that your child won't have to suffer the same fate. And Arturia will finally be allowed to be happy again."
There was a flash of light as something shot from the golden portal, and a sharp force impacted with her abdomen, knocking her back. A sudden, warm wetness seeped into her clothes as she stared stunned up at the dark ceiling. She was so numb, she almost didn't realize she had been struck. She was simply dying.
Her weakened mind drifted to thoughts of Kiritsugu and Ilyasviel before the world faded from her senses and into the void. And the Grail came for her.
Uruk
Arturia had parted with her knights for the evening, escorting the rather drunk men to their chambers before departing on her own. Her mind buzzed with drink, and there was a slight wobble in her step. She had certainly drunk more than she had intended, but tonight, she wanted to forget.
All night the beautiful priestess had sat obediently behind Gilgamesh, even making pleasant conversation here and there. She was a respectable woman, Arturia felt, at face value. But seeing them so close, knowing the history between them. Akitu happened every year. Did they look forward to reuniting in bed every year? Or perhaps more often than that? Was there some sort of game to their affair as there was to his and Arturia's? She wondered if they were in love, and knew it was jealousy bubbling up in her drink filled gut.
Before she knew it, she had made her way to a set of tall ornate doors. Her absent-minded steps had brought her here, where it all started.
The hanging gardens of Babylon.
She looked up at the door as if they were judgemental giants looking down on her, pitying her.
You poor girl, they could say. What did you expect from the King of Babylon? He's had lovers long before you, and he'll have many more long after you're gone.
Arturia frowned at the doors, and then with a small stumble, she pushed them open.
The scent of grass and flowers hit her like an aromatic punch to the face, and for a moment, she nearly forgot to close the doors behind her. Many of the blossoms were closed up for the night, this wonder of the world so gentle and quiet in the lonely dark.
Arturia wandered the gardens, walking off the alcohol burning in her veins. It was shameful the way she felt, the way she acted.
You should never have let him seduce you, she scolded herself. You should have known he would just use you.
Even then, she could not shake the memories they had created together, the hushed moments in the dark, hiding from the world while they tended to each other's needs, explored the other's body. Arturia ran her fingers along her arms, tracing the places his powerful hands had held her, commanded her almost. Woven into her hair, gripping her hips, exploring between her legs. He had roamed across every inch of her body and made it sing with pleasure.
Her gaze wandered to the dripping greenery and sleeping blooms that surrounded her in a faint perfume of exotic nature. Everything reminded her of him, even the quiet of the night reminded of the intimate moments between them. The scent of his skin while they lay together in silence, the way his eyes danced with wry confidence or a gentle affection, an affection she only ever saw behind closed doors.
Perhaps that's how he had led her like a bitch on a leash. For a while, she felt he had opened a window to him that no one but her had ever seen.
She was a fool for falling for it.
The doors creaking open to the gardens echoed out into the night, causing Arturia, purely out of instinct, to duck behind a pillar before peeking out to inspect her unexpected visitor.
She didn't need to see him to recognize the sound his earrings made when they dangled with each step, like little bells. He had followed her.
Of course.
"What do you want?" she asked, her back still pressed to the pillar. The marble floors and walls would carry her voice for her. The sound of his footsteps ceased for a moment.
"I…" There was a frown in his voice. "I'm not a blind man nor a fool, so don't treat me as such. I wish to speak with you."
From where she was standing, she could see out onto the city. The fires that had been burning for the gods were smoldering in the midnight air, no longer the tall brilliant pillars they once were. It was likely the seventh day of Akitu now, judging by the moon's position in the sky above.
Three more until the king's false marriage. Three more days until he took another woman to bed.
But really, how different had he been from Arturia's deceptive bond to Guinivere?
Was this how the queen felt? Longing for affection from someone who didn't love her the way she wanted?
"Arturia?" Gilgamesh called out, moving further into the gardens.
"What could you possibly want to talk about?"
She could hear him sigh in the dark.
"I know Akitu is-" he began slowly. "-difficult to understand, but I-"
"I understand it just fine," she interrupted, still flush against the pillar, listening to him wander the gardens. "We come from two very different worlds, Gilgamesh. Nothing will ever change that."
There was a heavy silence between them.
"I've upset you though."
Arturia's hands curled into a fist and she reached up to wipe rogue wetness that formed behind her eyes. She blamed the wine.
"I'm just understanding the nature of our arrangement more and more," she said, keeping her voice low, steady, trying to not let it break. "I should expect no less from the king of Babylon. Our cultures value very different things in companions, in people."
She listened to his footsteps grow slightly closer. He was still looking for her, weaving throughout the gardens.
"This isn't about our cultures Arturia," Gilgamesh continued. "This is about us."
"What us?" she practically spat. "What us is there to speak of? We are a means to an end for each other, yes? You protected my people from an enemy, and I am looking for your precious source for eternal youth. Anything more is consolation, extra pleasure. That's it."
Another long silence. His footsteps stopped.
"Is that how you truly feel?" he asked, his voice on the other side of the pillar. "About us?"
"I'd be a fool to feel anything else, right?" she said, her voice threatening to break. She cursed herself for the emotion welling in her gut. The wine was stirring her emotions like a bubbling pot of searing water, burning her from the inside out.
"Is that how you would like to remain?" he asked quietly, a strange weight to his voice she had only ever heard when he had spoken of his long passed companion, Enkidu.
She was so caught up in her own mind she nearly jumped out of her skin as a set of warm fingers reached around the pillar to take hers. Her first instinct was to pull away, but there was something deep in her that could not. The feeling of his gentle touch on her skin beckoned a fresh round of tears, quickly wiped away by her free hand.
"Yes," she lied, before the silence lingered too long. His fingers squeezed around hers one more time.
"I see…" He sounded sad, his hold on her beginning to loosen. "I understand, though. I'm sorry to have caused you any inner torment. It was never my intention."
Arturia's chest ached. The bliss between them had fizzled out into this hollow canyon. She felt further away from him than ever, and even then she still yearned to be close, even though she knew, deep in her heart, it would never be what she really desired. She was a fool to want more of him, of this foreign king.
"Inner torment," she said, sneering through her tears before wiping them away again. "Don't patronize me."
He was quiet again, releasing her hand to the cold chill of the night.
"Apologies," he said quietly. It as all uncharacteristic of him. She didn't think him actually capable of shame.
"I do hope you enjoy the rest of the holy days," he said. "I will do my best to keep a sense of decorum between us, for the sake of our arrangement."
Her hand squeezed back into a fist, the space where his fingers had once been like an empty void, carving a space through her heart. She still craved it.
After a moment she maneuvered around the pillar to find him pushing off it, about to make his way for the doors. She snatched his wrist, pulling him back with a drunken strength.
"Wh-"
Arturia crushed her lips to his before he could protest, smashing him against the pillar. His hands shook, grabbing a hold of her waist for stability before pulling her away to look down at her. His ruby gaze full of confusion.
"What are you doing?" he asked, swallowing a breath. Her gaze was as hard as steel.
"We still agreed on an arrangement, yes?" she said, her voice devoid of the agony she felt in her chest. "Can we still not make good on it?"
She watched as several emotions struggled on his face. Which ones they were was hard to say. She never thought she'd see the king of Babylon not immediately take advantage of her advances.
"You're drunk," he said, his voice low and devoid of desire.
"Not as much as you think," she said, reaching down his robes to encourage him. "I have enough control of my liberties to know what I want."
His hand caught her wrist as she took hold of him, a sharp gasp hissing through his teeth.
"Arturia," he groaned, breath heavy against her face. She frowned, releasing him, pulling her hand from under his robes.
"If you don't want to, just say so," she said, releasing her other grip in his hair. He stared, slack-jawed down at her, a look of bewilderment and conflict burning in his wide eyes.
"I...I do," he admitted. "I just..."
"Then let's do ourselves a favor and not treat it like anything more than it is," she said, stepping closer to him again. "A means to an end."
She never felt further from a king than she did now, reduced to a foolish heartbroken girl in a foreign land, soiled by a heathen who she had so blindly allowed herself to fall for.
But he'd already tainted her. What more could he do to her now?
"If this is what you want."
"It is," she answered curtly, noting the wince in his gaze. Was it shame? Hurt?
In this moment, against her better judgment, she didn't care. She simply didn't want to think about the cracks in her heart. She just wanted to feel something good.
After a long moment of silence, Gilgamesh's eyes hardened and he pulled her close, eyes squeezing shut as he took her lips with his own. She kissed him fiercely, with almost angry energy in her actions, tearing away his robes as quickly as she could, not taking her time. Why bother humoring the false affections they'd once shared when they had never been real to begin with?
Arturia wouldn't have called what they did making love, but it satiated her need for something. Something better than what poisoned her thoughts. She kept her eyes closed, thinking of the times before when their passion for one another kept the painful truth at bay. She still reveled in his touch, appreciated his skills, took pleasure in the noises he made, and the sensations he drew from her. But that's all it was, a sensation, pleasure.
Perhaps there was something to this hedonistic lifestyle. She pretended God couldn't see her fall so far.
Afterward, in the dark quiet gardens, she redressed facing away from him, saying nothing. He said nothing in return, running a hand through his disheveled hair, tracing the red marks her fingernails had left in his skin. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, staring down at the scratches. Once a vibrant, lively red almost seemed dull and dead, like drying blood on the corpse of something once alive.
Once fully dressed, Arturia stood, leaving the king lounging amongst the greenery and splendor of the hanging gardens. He said nothing to her as she left.
Her empty bed welcomed her as the moon was beginning its descent in preparation for the new day. She watched it until her gentle sobs put her to sleep.
She couldn't wait to go home.
A/N: I'm still doing my best to keep my word. I hope everyone else in the world is doing alright with, well, -gestures to everything-
As always, thank you for your loyalty and support.
Love, Rei
