This is a commission for SombraZorro70, who asked for a Mata Hari x Boudica pairing with a slow burn/friends to lovers theme. Wish Granted is told via a series of time skips, denoted by "-" and changes POV after the centered "..."
If you'd like your own ideas brought to life, feel free to shoot me a PM!
-Prologue-
Once summoned, a Heroic Spirit is plucked from their timeline and brought to this one. Known as a Servant, this individual forms a pact with a human Master and is bound by powerful magic to obey the whims of their summoner. Some pairs operate as equals while others fall into superior and subordinate roles. Some pairs actively seek conflict while others avoid it at all costs. Some pairs butt heads over whether participating in such a contest is a good idea in the first place.
No matter what the approach to their partnerships or where they stood on being part of the looming war, Servant-Master pairs worked together in order to make their dearest desire come true. Whether that was something as mundane as meeting one's soul mate or as grandiose as world domination, the Holy Grail had the power to make it a reality.
With so much at stake, it was unheard of for a single Master to summon more than one Heroic Spirit from the ether—that is, until now...
Being a Master was definitely a learning experience and one that didn't just include utilizing magical Command Codes and battling for possession of the Holy Grail. There was also a more domestic side of possessing a Servant companion. Living arrangements had to be made and, though Chaldea offered to house all Heroic Spirits, what they'd decided would be best for morale was to have Mata Hari and Boudica move in with him in his two bedroom apartment. It was an interesting dynamic, living with two very different personalities—especially having lived by himself for so long.
Upon offering up his own bedroom and instead sleeping on the sofa, the redhead, Boudica, had politely insisted that she wouldn't dare inconvenience her Master. And so, Mata Hari had taken the spare bedroom while Boudica slept on the futon in the living room.
Months passed and with the passage of time, bonds developed between Master and Servants, but also Servant and Servant as well.
"I forgot how busy this place gets during the weekend! Make sure you stay close to me."
The supermarket was abuzz with activity and Mata Hari giggled as she latched onto her Master's arm. "Mmkay~"
The plan was to divide and conquer: Boudica was at home, prepping dinner, while they gathered the necessary ingredients to create the meal in question. They made their way down crowded aisles, chatting amicably, then made their purchase and headed outdoors. The apartment was within walking distance, and the weather was nice, so the duo headed home on foot, grocery bags in arms.
"This is fun," Mata Hari remarked.
"Really? I would have thought it would be boring compared to your previous life." He regretted saying it when the woman's face darkened. "S-sorry, I didn't—"
"I had always dreamed I'd get married and have a family. I was never allowed that opportunity, given my profession..." She laughed humorlessly at her own private joke. "And who would want someone like me?"
This was a side of the Assassin he hadn't seen in the past year and a half they'd spent together. Why had he gone and put his foot in his mouth by assuming he understood Mata Hari based on what she had deemed safe to share about her rather checkered past? He quickly changed the subject: "I've been wondering…"
"Mm?"
"What would your wish be for the Holy Grail?"
"My wish?" Mata Hari had thought about it often, but it still took her a long moment to answer her Master's question: "It doesn't matter. A weak Heroic Spirit like me would never succeed."
They walked the rest of the way home in awkward silence.
Mata Hari's dark mood lingered when Boudica greeted them at the door and helped unburden the duo of their shopping bags. The redhead already had a cutting board covered in washed and cut vegetables, and there was a huge pot on the stove from which a mouthwatering scent wafted. While Mata Hari moved to help finish dinner, their Master retreated to his room to give them space.
… Which was for the best because he really couldn't cook to save his life.
Mata Hari was still learning, but Boudica had proven herself a patient and capable teacher. It helped that she had a good student, or so she kept saying, but the Assassin wasn't so sure; sometimes she felt as though she was just getting in the way. Mata Hari greatly respected Boudica—a woman who had met an untimely end just as she had—but she also envied the redhead for living the life that she had always wanted.
She was royalty. A loving wife wedded to a loving husband. Beloved by her subjects and anyone who came into contact with her. What had Mata Hari accomplished with her life besides lying and conniving to make a living?
"You've been quiet. Is everything alright?"
Mata Hari flinched away from that searching blue gaze and, in the process, she dropped the seasoning, container and all, into the pot.
Oh no… Embarrassment made her glum mood evolve into something more self-debasing. "I'm sorry… I always mess everything up."
"Everyone makes mistakes," Boudica assured her, arming herself with two dish cloths and lifting the pot off of the stove. "This is easily fixable." She replaced the pot with a larger one, adding the contents of the first pot to it with more water than before. "There, see? No big deal."
Boudica was so warm and kind and genuine. It made Mata Hari feel smaller than she already did. That feeling of inadequacy was the reason the Assassin clammed up and withdrew into herself.
"I'm fine," she said, her tone hard.
The redhead frowned minutely, concern written all over fair features. "Alright… But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"
"..."
Dinner was resplendent, but in the face of their Master's praise and Boudica's gracious modesty, it tasted like ash on Mata Hari's tongue.
Boudica headed to Chaldea with her Master as they always did on Wednesdays. It was a little ritual of theirs; they would go to the training grounds and work on his swordsmanship. Boudica firmly believed that he needed to be able to protect himself should his Servants fail to.
Her motherliness was endearing, but behind that gentle exterior was a valiant warrior who knew her way around a sword. She wasn't called the Queen of Victory without reason. Most days, she wiped the floor with her Master, but today he felt a bit more confident as their match stretched on for longer than was usual.
Steel flashed, two swords meeting with a loud clamour, and Boudica grinned. "You're doing well!"
Her Master returned the expression sheepishly. "Really?"
"Yes. I'm happy to say you've definitely improved." The redhead pushed hard, disarming him with a flick of her wrist. "But don't let this small victory distract you."
They sparred for another hour before Boudica declared that that was enough for the day and her Master collapsed, breathing hard. He was at the end of his rope, muscles he didn't know he had screamed in silent protest. Meanwhile, the Rider-class Servant hadn't even broken a sweat.
Boudica offered her Master a bottle of water and he accepted it with a grateful smile. She joined him on the grass, curling slender legs beneath her. As they sat and sipped, he asked, "Hey, Boudica, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"What are you going to wish for? If we win the Holy Grail, I mean."
"My wish?" Boudica had thought about it often, and she answered without hesitation: "I want all of Brittania to become peaceful. My homeland is the most important thing to me and I spent my life protecting it."
Her Master nodded, admiration in his eyes. "I hope you get your wish."
"As do I." Boudica smiled quizzically. "Why do you ask?"
He plucked at the grass near him. "I was speaking with Mata Hari the other day and…" He hesitated, then decided better of what he was originally going to say. It wasn't his place. "Anyway, I'd like it if the two of you could get along. I think you're a good influence on her."
Blue eyes were understanding. "I'll try my best."
When they returned home that night, Boudica and her Master took turns showering and, after, she sought out Mata Hari. The Assassin had spent the day holed up in her room, as far as the redhead could tell, and it was with some trepidation that she knocked on Mata Hari's bedroom door.
The door swung open to reveal the brunette, who was dressed for bed in a scarlet babydoll, and Boudica was struck by the tan woman's shapeliness. If there was anything Mata Hari was confident about, it was her appearance, and she knew just how to accentuate her assets. It seemed she had finally shook off the dark cloud that had hung over her the other day and she smiled. "Welcome back. How did it go?"
"It went well. Our Master is improving quickly."
"That's good." Mata Hari crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. "I imagine having a capable instructor helps."
"My invitation still stands: I'd love for you to join us."
Boudica met Mata Hari's gaze dead-on until, finally, the Assassin said, "I'll think about it."
Is there anything else? her expression asked.
"I'm not tired yet, so I was going to watch a movie before bed. Would you like to join me?"
"Movies" were still a fascinating and nearly impossible to understand phenomenon for the two, even after being in a more modern setting for over a year. It was overwhelming how far technology had come since their respective eras and, not one to shy away from a challenge, Boudica had set about familiarizing herself with everything the 20th century had to offer.
Oddly enough, they'd both discovered their tastes in films were similar; romantic comedies were their poison of choice, a genre that was lost upon their Master. On more than one occasion, the Servants had found themselves bonding on the couch for hours at a time, snacks and beverages strewn around, and a warm sense of comradery connecting them.
A lot like tonight.
Mata Hari leaned against Boudica, stormy gray eyes on the screen, and the redhead stroked her hair absentmindedly. They'd gotten to the point in the movie where there was a heartfelt admission of feelings and the Assassin tended to get teary-eyed. Sure enough, Mata Hari stirred, turning her head to surreptitiously wipe her eyes, and Boudica took the chance to sling her arm across the brunette's shoulders and give her a squeeze. She didn't know what was troubling Mata Hari, but she hoped in time the other woman would open up to her.
They stayed like that until the credits rolled and then they went their separate ways for the night.