Bedivere left sooner than Arturia would have liked, promising he'd be back for dinner. He told her that he had much business to take care of, that he was going to check in with someone too while he was here. Between Kay going to work and Bedivere taking off some time after lunch, she was left with, well, nothing to do.
The King of Knights picked up the tiny, curious device- she was still amazed on how much humanity had progressed since her time-on the coffee table and opened her messages. Still no reply from Shirou. She wondered if he'd even seen the notification.
Arturia had been distracted of late, she realized, thumbing the two marks on her neck. Between the first seal, the visitors that had come by, and catching up with Bedivere, there was barely any time for herself. And now, with Kay having gone to court to represent a client, the once warm and homey condominium felt...empty. And although she enjoyed the quiet, silence always had a way to bring out the worst thoughts. She kicked off the couch and paced in front of the window, a rare bout of insecurity suddenly overtaking her as she read and reread the text message on her phone.
I have returned safely, Shirou.
Had she come off as rude? No, that couldn't be it. It was a neutral statement, how could Shirou have taken it the wrong way? Besides, she did text in the middle of the night, perhaps it had just escaped his notice or he'd left his phone charging like Kay had.
I hope you have a pleasant day—
No, no. She backtracked, erasing the text. It sounded a little eager. Should she wait for him to reply instead? Oh, but it was noon. Surely, he'd have some free time around lunch, she told herself, but really, she didn't know what to think. Even if it had been ten years, she thought Shirou would be ecstatic- happy, at least- to be reunited with her. Of course, there would have to be a readjustment period, especially on his part, but afterward, she was positive they could return to normal and eventually progress their relationship into proper courtship.
Her fingers brushed over her lips as she relived the memory of his pressed onto hers. At that time, she would resist, prioritizing winning the Grail over anything else. But now, those precious memories, feeling Shirou's warmth and kindness, were all things she wished to experience for as long as she lived. His love, most of all, in return for all of hers.
Love.
When she was younger, before Guinevere, Arturia wondered if she loved Merlin. He was more than just a teacher, a friend. He'd watched over her with a face ever unchanging as she grew from a child to a teen, and eventually the king that she became. He chuckled back then, knowing an unfeeling king and a half-incubus could never really know what it meant to love. But now…
Arturia put a hand over her heart, soothing the quiet yearning she'd been suppressing the moment she re-entered the world of the living. Just the thought of holding Shirou's hand made her head swim, turned her into the flushed mess she saw reflected on the glass window. She thought of their kisses, the tiny calluses in his palms brought about by their many hours in the dojo, the way his eyes shone in moonlight. She thought about how mature he looked now, a hardened version of the young adult she met in the Fifth Holy Grail War.
Her heartbeat quickened. Maybe it was impossible for her to love as Camelot's ruler, but being summoned into present day made the abstract concept far less farfetched.
It's just…
The King of Knights looked down at her phone and the single, unread message on her screen. He was so... distant. It was already a rare occasion to see him when they lived under the same roof for two weeks. Even rarer to get him alone, and during those times, they would talk, but the conversations were never any deeper than the usual how do you do's and what have you been up to's.
Perhaps he only needed encouragement. Was a bouquet of flowers still suitable as a gift during courtship? She wasn't sure. Shirou's pressure cooker had given out during their stay at the Japanese manor, should she get him a replacement as a gift?
Her phone dinged twice, signaling a new message. She stifled the tiny pang of disappointment when it wasn't from the man in her mind, but opened it nonetheless.
" King of Knights, would you like to go out to dinner? " it read, ending with a semicolon and parentheses followed by the sender's name.
" I would, but I'm afraid I won't be the best company tonight," she typed clumsily, as soon as she finished adding the raven-haired knight to her contacts.
His reply came barely a moment later in a string of three messages, one after the other, and ended in a colon and an open parenthesis. " Oh? You would leave a poor knight to dine alone? How cruel, " it read, the text in white within a blue bubble. She chuckled. He could be quite silly, couldn't he?
" You are hardly that and you know it," she typed, a playful tilt on her lips as she mouthed the words. " Kay refuses to let me out of the building. "
Back at Ahnenerbe, Diarmuid stifled a smile as his friend leaned over his shoulder to read the exchange of messages. Of course, he batted Cú away but the damned waiter was quite persistent.
" And why's that? " he managed to type, despite using his other hand to push the prying fellow Lancer away, the gowl. Diarmuid swore Cú could be a fierce annoyance when he wanted to be. Feck off man, he mouthed, trying and failing to keep the fellow Irishman away as his phone dinged.
" Alas, it seems I have been felled by a cold, " was her reply. Was that sarcasm? From the King of Knights? Ha! What a treat! Even Cú let out a tiny huff of laughter, reading the messages as he slung an arm over his new buddy.
" A tragedy, indeed," he replied, a little disheartened since the fact meant they couldn't go through with the plan. Reading that, Cú went over to the counter and seemed to be conversing with his boss about something. He returned with a menu, smaller than the one he was given before breakfast, with the words "TAKE-OUT" written in cursive script along the top.
Arturia was already writing a reply when his next message came. " Well… if you can't leave. Perhaps a visit is in order. What say you? " she read. Did Diarmuid perhaps miss her the few days she was away? She deleted the ' My sincerest apologies, can I take a rain check?' that she had just typed. Well, they did use to spar almost every day, she could understand that. And it would be...nice to have some company. Welcome company, she corrected herself, thinking of the unprecedented visitor she had last night. She wrote and sent her reply. Neither Kay nor Bedivere would mind the extra company, she was sure.
Somewhere in a restaurant near Fuyuki Bridge, Cú raised a smug high-five to someone he would probably end up calling his best friend while the latter gave him a look and shook his head.
Cú ended up tagging along later that night, with a bundle of fresh, delicately spiced curry in one hand and some fancy garlic knots his boss had thrown in for fun in the other. It wasn't a large distance, so the two were able to stop by Diarmuid's place before heading out, where he lent the guy a blue linen shirt. (Honestly, Diarmuid didn't know much about fashion these days but really, that particular tie-dye top with those black pants was a crime.) He changed into a similar mint green one, the outfits courtesy of RTK of course.
This would be presentable enough for Sir Kay, right? He asked himself in the mirror, straightening his collar as soon as he rang the doorbell, ready to meet with Arturia's brother. He could hear footsteps of a wider stride than Arturia's. It was Kay answering the door then, he thought, swallowing the lump in his throat that had formed without his permission. The door clicked open and then-
Blonde?
Standing in the doorway was a man even taller than he, with his single arm holding the doorknob. He looked at him with equally surprised and unfamiliar eyes.
"Terribly sorry, I must have the wrong address-" he began, rechecking the apartment number. What was it, 25A, wasn't it? He backed away to look at the other doors in the hallway.
"Is that Diarmuid I hear?" asked a familiar melodic voice, soon followed by the King of Knights ducking her head into the doorway. She, Diarmuid noted for reasons he still did not understand, was wearing the exact same linen shirt as he was, the oversized garment hanging off of her shoulders quite loosely. With the way he was freezing up despite the summer heat, it was all he could do to manage a friendly smile.
Arturia didn't seem to notice as her green eyes darted between him and his blue-haired companion.
"Cú Chulainn. It's an honor to have you," she said, holding out a hand for him to shake.
"Hey, little knight. What's the craic?" He took her hand and shook it once, making a mental note of the woman's iron grip. Heck, she really did act like a king, did she?
A soft, almost fond expression crossed her face. Arturia remembered all too well what good Cú had done for her and her former master, as well as his strength in combat of course. She still had to pay him back for that, she told herself.
"Well, come on in then," she said, pulling Diarmuid inside by the wrist with the two other men following closely. Arturia reintroduced her brother at the dining table for Cú's sake, and then the other man, another Round Table Knight apparently. Bedivere was his name.
"Diarmuid O'Dyna. Cú Chulainn," the blonde man repeated, looking at each respective hero as he did so. "My, my, Art. You didn't tell me you had friends of such renown."
The compliment was definitely the right way to kick off dinner, as the Servants immediately erupted into conversation. Talking about different quests, adventures with their lords. At some point, the two Round Knights even resorted to teasing their own king about her rather ridiculous talent at gambling. Between the delicious take-out curry and the hearty meal Kay had prepared for them that night, it was a good time. Especially when the host pulled out two six-packs of Guinness, chilled to perfection. And then gin, and then whiskey after that.
Bedivere was the first to go, slumping over the couch armrest after his eleventh shot. Cú and Kay were laughing with their arms slung over each other, turning the alcoholic beverages into some sort of odd competition. It was a miracle that their neighbors hadn't come knocking on their door yet.
Diarmuid closed the glass door behind him and made the three steps it took to come up beside Arturia on their modest balcony. She was leaning on the railing, looking up at a clear summer sky. In the moonlight, the Englishwoman looked like a work of art. Her skin, far paler than his, was nearly glowing like candlelight, the two emeralds that were her eyes, twinkling like the stars.
"What?" she asked, meeting his hazel eyes with obvious mirth. He wasn't sure if the blush on her cheeks and collarbones was from her fever or from the alcohol or something else, but gods was it lovely. Still, as much as he wanted to keep her happy, he had questions to ask else he burst from the pressure.
He noticed, even if she'd done well to hide it. The softer tone of voice, the slump in her shoulders. The almost imperceptible wince as she passed around the drinks. Diarmuid watched her expression change, the pleasant turn of lip slowly disappearing as the atmosphere turned serious.
"You could tell?" she asked, unconsciously rubbing her left arm under his piercing stare. It was embarrassing really, having him look so... concerned like that. What was she, a helpless maiden?
"Merlin showed me."
That old codger! Arturia sunk into the crook of her elbow, cursing the old wizard just because she knew his clairvoyance would allow him to see it happening.
Diarmuid set down his beer can on the railing, and with a stroke of courage used his liberated fingers to steer her gaze back to himself when she looked away. Now, he was sure the blush was from shame, even if she shouldn't feel that way.
"Come now, Saber," he reprimanded, catching her line of sight, "Is it so awful for me to want to look after my friend?"
She found it difficult to break eye contact, especially when there was nothing but warmth and genuine care in his orange eyes. There was nowhere she could hide from eyes like that, so sharp, that at times she felt them cut down each and every one of her defenses til it was just her truest self before him. Only one other man had ever done that, and he was almost never around.
"It is not something to concern yourself over," she reasoned, pulling out of the tender fingers ever so lightly cupping her chin. If Diarmuid felt hurt, he didn't show it. Instead, he picked up his can of Guinness and took a swig, contemplating what to say. He looked down at the black can, as if he could find the words in between the lines of the ingredients.
Diarmuid thought himself brave. He was always on the frontlines, leading the charge for his lord. He'd slain whole platoons of men alone, when the odds were so unfairly stacked against him. He'd even go so far as to say he wasn't afraid of death itself.
But when he saw that image of her in Merlin's projection, bleeding out so much that even now he could see the grayish circles under her eyes? For the first time in his life, nay , lives, he felt his blood run cold. He felt bitter chills running up his spine, the hoarse cries of hopelessness and despair ringing in his ears. It was a miracle he hadn't fallen to his knees.
It terrified him, the thought of losing her so fast. So much so that if he didn't see her breathing in the illusion, he would have lost himself.
He still didn't know what exactly meant. Nor did he dare try to find out. All he was sure of was that he needed Arturia.
"Will you show me?" his voice was barely a murmur, but he knew she could hear. He could feel Arturia moving at the point where their elbows touched, even if it was just a slight nod. They turned, facing each other fully.
She hesitated a moment at the top button, prompting Diarmuid to tell her it was okay if she didn't, but she shushed him as she continued, unbuttoning the shirt down to her chest. For a second, she wondered how it had come to be that she was essentially undressed in front of two men in the last twenty-four hours, but told herself this was different. He was different, she repeated, as she pulled down her top to expose her shoulder.
"See?" she said, proving her point, "'Tis but a scratch."
Diarmuid gave her a look and a scoff that honestly would have put Kay's sarcastic antics to shame.
"A scratch? " Diarmuid couldn't believe his ears. The scar ran all the way from her collarbone to the top of her breast!
"Your arm's off!" he retorted, pointing at the rather obvious proof.
"No it isn't!"
The woman glared up at him defensively, which he answered with a rather menacing glare himself. One second passed. Another one. Then another.
Diarmuid was the first to break, a little snort setting off a string of lighthearted laughter between the two that ended only when their foreheads knocked together.
Still...he wasn't kidding. The gash looked like it was deep enough that if someone continued the slash upwards, Arturia would be down an arm.
"May I?" he asked. Arturia nodded, and with her consent he slipped a gentle finger under the garterized strap and pulled it aside to better inspect the wound. It was stitched up rather neatly, but the tiny red dots between the strings suggested that the stitches had been redone at least once. He was amazed at her restorative powers, although it looked terrifying in Merlin's vision, right now it was basically about to scab over completely. He suspected it would be but a pink scar in the next few days. Maybe even by tomorrow.
Her breath hitched in her throat when his knuckles accidentally brushed the sutures. All too suddenly, Diarmuid was aware of just how intimate they were, him leaning over her with her back pressed against the railing, her half undressed and warm to the touch.
It surprised Diarmuid just how much he wanted to kiss her, to feel what it was like to have her mouth on his. It would be so easy to lean forward and take her lips, they were close enough that they shared breaths, close enough the heat of her skin seeped through his clothes.
But he didn't.
The knight fixed her bra strap and re-buttoned the shirt, careful not to touch anything he wasn't supposed to. He silently hoped the alcohol was enough of an excuse for the heat in his cheeks and ears, or at least hoped Cú was drunk enough for it to slip his notice, lest the other Lancer tease him on his impure thoughts and other such nonsense.
A crash, followed by the piercing sound of glass breaking drew the knights' attention to the other three men back in the apartment. Bedivere was still knocked out, Cú and Kay were on the ground on opposite sides of the room, each surrounded with more bottles of alcohol Arturia was sure they hadn't brought out earlier.
The two remaining conscious knights looked at each other and shared a quiet snicker before reentering the apartment. After unceremoniously dumping Kay into his mattress and securing Bedivere on the couch, Diarmuid slung an absolutely plastered Cú over his shoulder and made for the door.
"Good night, Arturia," Diarmuid said fondly. Managing a clumsy salute on his way out.
"Good night."
The door clicked shut as Arturia ran her hands through her hair, her mind struggling to process all the rather exciting things that happened this night. My, it must have been all the alcohol. Still, it was a good night. A memorable one. The first of many, she hoped, as she slinked into her bed.
When he was sure she was asleep, Bedivere rose from the couch, the tears flooding his eyes no longer permitted him to lie down. The knight sobbed into his palm, hoping the little whimpers he made would not wake her. He would look terrible tomorrow, he'd look like a bloody wreck, but it didn't matter. Nothing else did. For the first time in all the years as her knight...For the first time in all his years on this Earth...Finally. Finally. Finally, he saw her smile.
