That was just how they were made.
.
.
.
Diarmuid stared at the little King he was so fond of. He felt lighter than air, as if she had just released him from chains that had tied him down for ages. She had her head rested on the tree trunk, and the wind was playing with her hair.
…
He should really stop staring, shouldn't he?
"Why is your name and title King Arthur Pendragon? Forgive me if I sound rather rude, but that's the name that was passed in your legend. I realized it during our first duel, but I must say, I was quite surprised," he broke the comfortable silence that had come over them.
Saber smirked. "Such an odd question indeed, Lancer, but I suppose someone whom I've had the honour to fight should use my true name."
"Arturia..." the man voiced. He remembered the first time he'd ever heard her say it, a long, long time ago. "It suits you, King of Knights."
"You're one of the few who knows me by that name, Diarmuid O'Dyna."
"Oh," said the knight, "it is an honor then, to know Saber by her real name."
Arturia smirked, "Only if you deem it as such."
The man laughed, smiling into the back of his hand. She laughed with him.
The way he said her name felt almost foreign. She'd never been able to enjoy being called by it at all, having been called 'Arthur' her whole life. Shirou hadn't even asked for her name, nor did he use it when he had found out.
"I hope you didn't have a terrible fate like I did," the spearman said when the laughter came to a stop.
"Ah, well, I did not have charm magic bestowed upon me." Lancer tilted his head at this, giving her a half-smile.
Saber glanced at the little spot beneath his right eye before she spoke again, "Would the honourable First Knight of Fianna care to hear the tragic tale of King Arthur Pendragon?"
Lancer smirked, "Only if she wishes to share it."
This girl interested him. Between them, the mood was oddly familiar. The Knight of Fianna recalled the tales he shared with his comrades over food and drink. How strange that a lady could incite such a feeling in him. Well, she was a knight, after all. There was something about her that he just couldn't figure out. It was something only she had; something that he'd never come across in any other woman.
Arturia began, "The tale of King Arthur began in the dark times of Britain. The great King, Uther Pendragon had passed away. His kingdom grieved for him. His domain was in chaos, with no one to take up his crown. It was then that the mystical sword in the stone appeared. 'Whosoever pulleth this sword from this stone shall be the rightful King of all Britain.' Those were the words engraved on the rock. Though hundreds of gallant knights tried to remove the sword, it remained fastened to its sheath. One day, a small girl approached to try her hand at pulling out the blade."
Diarmuid raised his eyebrows to confirm Saber's person in the tale. She nodded sadly. Suddenly, he wondered if it was right to be curious of her past. Once, in his younger days he had taken a swift blow to his arm. Despite the healer's words, he sparred with one of the other knights just as he had been patched up. In the end, he had to forfeit. Reopened wounds were as excruciating as new ones.
He silently hoped her past wasn't as painful as he thought it was. He'd hate to see her cry again.
"Only I and Merlin, the greatest wizard in all the land, were present. I moved toward the stone, reaching for the handle. Before I could close my fingers around it, Merlin told me, "Before you attempt this, Arturia, I suggest you give great thought on regards to what you are about to commit to. Once you take that sword in hand, there is no returning. You will no longer be a mere human being.""
Saber sighed, closing her eyes. She tilted her head back to rest on the tree trunk. "Those words have haunted me ever since. As days became years, I realized that Merlin was right."
Lancer watched curiously, awaiting the story's continuation. He thought she looked slightly different with her hair down. She looked more...peaceful, as if she'd never seen the destruction brought by war or the effects of battle. Her golden locks swayed with the wind. Her eyes were beautiful and delicate, lips soft and pink.
What on Earth am I thinking?
His eyes left Arturia, focusing instead on the tiny flowers in the grass before him.
The girl continued her tale, eyes still shut. "I know…I have come here to free this sword on my own volition," said I, gripping the handle with both my hands. I recall the look on Merlin's face when I pulled out the magic sword. His eyes widened. His mouth was agape. It slid out smoothly, like a sword would leave a sheath." She smiled fondly.
"It was heavy then. It weighed down my arms as I held it up before me and marvelled at its beauty. The sword in the stone was too big for me; it reached almost to my chest at its full length. Merlin draped a long rich cape over my shoulders; more than half of the fabric trailed behind me as we marched through the kingdom. Upon reaching the King's quarters, he said to me solemnly, "I am sorry, Arturia, for such a great burden has been placed on the shoulders of such a young girl. Let glory and honor be on your side, my king. My life is yours. Though I am but one man, let my life be compensation for your sacrifice. Let it be this kingdom's gift of thanks," the man said, bowing."
Diarmuid's eyes drifted back to the woman he was facing. Her eyes were open now, focused on the canopy of leaves that bore the same colour. The corners of her mouth pulled downward. Aside from that, she remained blank, eyes refusing to show emotion.
"I was born and raised for that day. I played the role of Arthur Pendragon, the perfect king, the king my father had meant for me to be. There was no room for error, no time for wrong. All the teachings of my foster father, Sir Ector, finally became of use to me. I sharpened my skills in all aspects; my skill with the sword became best in the land. Merlin even made me master Mana Release."
Diarmuid raised his eyebrows. So she's not only skilled, but she uses mana for her strength as well?
"That skill proved useful many times. Don't you agree, Diarmuid?" she asked, remembering the duels she shared with her fellow knight. My strategies led to numerous victories. The Knights of the Round Table were ever loyal, staying by my side and leading the rest of my troops. "Our King is the god of battle. He may always be found leading the charge. He has never tasted defeat. No one can stand in King Arthur's way," my subjects used to say. "His countenance has remained the same ever since he drew the sword of choosing! Our King does not age! Truly, he is the embodiment of the dragon!" they said."
Arturia paused, and in those few quiet moments he saw her bite her lip.
"It sounds like you lived the life of another," he commented. He could already feel the air around her getting heavy, as if she had a huge burden on her shoulders.
"Perhaps I did. My dreams were dreams for my country. My actions were in the hopes of bringing my country glory. I played Arthur Pendragon so well that I even agreed to marry like any King should. The finest lady of the land, Lady Guinevere became Arthur's wife. We agreed to abide by the customs though I held no love for her. Instead, she and Lancelot...ahh... She became a close friend of mine. Guinevere had as close a friendship with me as Irisveil," Saber explained.
Lancelot?
"I..." For a moment, Saber's eyebrows crossed, like she had felt a sudden pain.
Diarmuid wanted to stop her right there.
"Before I had Camelot, I had to defeat Vortigern. The man had turned into a ferocious black dragon, the very avatar of Britain itself. In his last moments, he told me this "Child of my brother Uther. You cannot save this kingdom. You cannot win against mankind. Because the age of mystery had ended. The coming age is the age of civilization, the age of mankind. The power that is in your essence is at odds with humans. As long as you exist, Britain has no future. Curse your fate. The Old Britain has ended long ago."
The young king had her hand out in front of her, her expression so forlorn and lost. "Perhaps I should have listened to him."
Her hand clenched into a fist.
"The King cannot understand the hearts of his people." These words began being spoken in the corners of the kingdom. I began to drift apart from my comrades. They left one after the other, and before I realized it the Round Table was almost unoccupied. I couldn't comprehend why they had distanced themselves from me. "
The face she wore now was full of confusion, and she absent-mindedly clenched and unclenched her fist.
"And to add to the growing unrest, Lancelot, my strongest knight, had been meeting Guinevere in secret. The kingdom demanded that I punish her and my knight, but I chose to forgive them. More of my knights deserted me. It seemed my decision was not taken well. I knew the people were frustrated with me. There was never a moment when I didn't feel cornered or alone."
So…what happened was to be expected. While the King was out on an expedition, he left the kingdom on an unstable foundation. A rebellion was raised that divided the kingdom in two. "The Battle of Camlann" took place. What was once a beautiful kingdom was torn down to the ground. I returned and seized the kingdom once again. I fought my last battle with my domain barely holding on its own. But to do that...I had to kill a traitor...In a way, she was my own child, Mordred."
Saber put her hand over her stomach as if remembering the pain. "I think that was the first time I ever cried. I knelt on land stained red by blood of both my men and my enemies. It was as if Hell itself had surfaced. Weak and bleeding, I was taken from the battlefield by Sir Bedivere and Sir Gawain, the Knight of the Sun, but the latter did not see me to the end. He cried at his deathbed blaming himself for my death. He claimed it was his own selfishness that prevented Lancelot from coming to me. Sir Bedivere was the one knight still alive who remained by my side. With the little strength I had left, I had him return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake, its creator. I met my end leaning against a tree, facing a gallant knight."
She met his eyes. Green clashed with amber. The situation dawned on him. Diarmuid's heart sank. Here she was again, leaning on a tree, facing a knight; the situation repeated itself in this goddamned afterlife. She was breathing but it seemed like a lie. The knight sighed. He really had hoped she'd escape the cruel fate he'd heard whispered by drifting Servants like himself.
"Any regrets?" he asked.
"The reason I joined the Holy Grail war was to wish that someone more worthy would pull the sword from the stone...The only thing I worry about now is Britain, I wonder how my land is doing, after I left it so suddenly...I am still deeply sorry, but, recently, I've come to accept my life. I haven't completely forgiven myself, but someone taught me to be proud of my accomplishments," Saber smiled at the thought of a certain redhead.
"In fact, I don't even know why we're still here... I destroyed the Holy Grail. I am supposed to have died…and ultimately ceased my role as an Epic Spirit." she stated.
Oh. He hadn't thought about that, but in a way he was thankful. Seeing Saber again was quite a gift.
The man shifted.
"You know, there's one thing I can't believe in your story," the man remarked, not really knowing how to answer to her statement. He changed the subject. If it was possible he'd like to prolong her stay with him for as long as he can.
"Oh," the king raised an eyebrow, "and what is that?" Diarmuid was silent for a few moments. "Was Guinevere really the finest maiden in the land?" he asked, barely over a whisper. Halfway into his statement he inwardly slapped himself.
For what reason would I ask her that?
"Pardon me, Diarmuid, I didn't catch that. Might you repeat your question?" Saber asked, unconsciously tilting her head to the side.
He found that small nod of hers utterly adorable.
"Ah, nevermind. It's not important," he said as he shrugged it off. The pair was enveloped in an uncomfortable silence.
What now? He asked himself in his head. When was the last time he felt this flustered when speaking to a lady. Oh right. Never!
Saber turned and ran her fingers across the bark of the tree. "You know, because of my duties as a king, I don't think I've ever climbed a tree," Saber said softly, her tone almost sad.
Diarmuid stood, chuckling lightly, and offered his hand to Arturia once again. "Care to give it a try?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips. The blonde took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled up. "Why not?"
