In her talk with Iskandar a few nights prior, Lancelot came up in conversation. Arturia initially thought it strange, but when he talked about living at the Matou's she understood. After all, if Iskandar was spending more than a few nights under the Matou roof due to a certain lovely woman, he was bound to run into Lancelot one day or another.
But something the red king had told her last night had stuck with her all night. Why, he asked, despite the numerous friends that enjoyed her company, did she never invite them all to the same place? One could hold a party like that, and Iskandar would without hesitation.
So, the two kings made a deal. In the following nights, at the hidden cove by the Fuyuki beach, Arturia would host a tournament inviting those who'd be willing.
It had been a few days without mention of his sinful love from either Bedivere or Arturia, and Lancelot could only hope his words got through to the former. Arturia already carried so much on her shoulders as the Once and Future King. She didn't need this extra burden. If he knew her, and he did, she would be more upset that he and Guinevere didn't get their happy ending. But there was no hope for that, he and Guin were doomed from the beginning. Guin loved him
So when Arturia showed up at his door, inviting him to a little tournament, he was honestly a bit surprised.
"A tournament?"
"A tournament," she repeated, handing him a rather fancy invitation decorated with her familiar loopy handwriting and an elaborate wax seal. "You and I have yet to spar, I sincerely hope your attendance will give us a chance to."
There was something about her smile and the way she brushed her bangs to the side that made it difficult to refuse. Not that he planned to. He'd put Arturia through enough. If this simple request granted her happiness, he'd do it at once.
"...I'll be there, my king."
The smile on her face was painfully lovely. "We won't be mounted, Lance. I fear horses this day and age are quite scarce."
He nodded wordlessly, his heart aching as she turned to go. Before he could stop himself, he caught her wrist and brought it to his lips, surprising her.
"It's not a king's duty to be a messenger, my liege," he remarked, a distraction from the butterflies fluttering in his stomach from the touch. She smelled like lilies. He quelled his excitement as he watched her go, ignoring that his heart skipped a beat when she looked back to wave.
"A proper tourney?!" Cú exclaimed, practically ripping open the invitation she just handed across the table
Diarmuid shook his head at his friend's and turned to their breakfast date of sorts. "Well, I'm always looking forward to a duel, King of Knights, but what brought this on?"
Arturia smiled over her steaming cup of tea. "Iskandar. He will come to spectate. I hear he'll even bring a lady friend."
"Iskandar?" the Lancers repeated, looking at each other surprised and then at Arturia. She nodded enthusiastically, a bit out of character, but perhaps it was indicative of how excited she was. She set down her cup of tea and rested her chin on the hands she folded in front of her, her green eyes presenting them with a lovely challenge.
"And he as well as I did agree on a worthy prize," she hinted, wagging her eyebrows.
"You won't be joining then, Arturia?" Diarmuid questioned, just a little disappointment seeping into his voice.
"Oh, I will. I wouldn't miss the chance to fight the both of you."
The raven-haired knight bit his lip as Cú kicked him under the table for being way way too happy about Arturia's participation.
Cú hummed and blocked Diarmuid's elbow before it could hit his rib. "Not that I'm disappointed, Saber, but I feel between us we've already found that I am the superior fighter-"
He was cut off by his friends' protesting, Diarmuid doing so by whacking him upside the head. Of course, Cú was not one to take a hit and be done with it. Oh, no, most definitely not. The other Lancer couldn't fault him for smacking him in the face, or for the jab to the diaphragm.
"Hate to agree with this-oof!" Diarmuid tried to speak as he batted Cú away, " Idiot, but he's right in that we've had our share of matches. What was the score between me and you? I believe it was 12-11?"
Arturia merely chuckled as Diarmuid was shoved into the window pane.
"13-12, Diarmuid. And it is I in the lead. Or did you forget how I handed you your own arse last night?"
" OHHHH!" Cú teased, pushing the man's face further into the glass as he tried to shove him off.
Arturia stirred her tea and leaned her head on one hand, wondering if she should reveal the surprise this early on. It wouldn't really be much of a tourney if it was just the three of them now wouldn't it?
Of course, Arturia could understand what Diarmuid meant, after all, they didn't have a mere twenty-five matches between them, as the score would have one assume. They had hundreds in the months they've been here, most of them ending with his spear at her heart and her sword at his neck. Draws. Although most of the time, their battles had no winner, the adrenaline rushing through their veins with every clash of their weapons was more than enough to satisfy them.
But with every glorious spar, Arturia found herself beginning to understand how Diarmuid moved. The way he fought was more aggressive than defensive, and more often than not, he used his Gae Dearg to push the opponent back with wide slashes. Although now, she could say for sure that Diarmuid was fully ambidextrous, it was clear his combat style had been developed to trick his opponents to think his right was his dominant hand in order to catch them off guard with the shorter yellow spear.
In their duels there were times she thought she'd had him with a sure strike, only for her sword to be batted away with the shaft of his weapon. He was learning the way that she moved as well, at times with frightening accuracy. Many a time, she'd find herself almost cornered, the instinctual slash barely securing a draw.
Which is why the variety this tournament brought was a necessity.
"You'll be glad to hear you'll be fighting against my knights," she said, unable to resist the temptation.
A whoop resounded through Ahnenerbe as Cú's fist shot into the air. "That's what I'm talking about!" he yelled, and then slammed his fist onto the table. "Is Kay coming?! He better be, I'm damn curious about the King of Knights' older brother. HOHO! But how interesting would it be to fight the one-armed Bedivere! I can hardly wait!"
His voice slowly dissolved into a chuckle as he spoke, leaving the other two knights to meet eyes and shake their heads. Cú was as bright and energetic as ever.
"And who of my knights should you wish to challenge?" Arturia said, waving her little teaspoon in Diarmuid's direction.
"You," he answered, without much hesitation.
With eyebrows raised, she asked, "Haven't tired of me yet?"
Diarmuid chuckled and shook his head. "Never."
It was nearly midnight, and the evening saw the knight siblings lounging on the older one's couch, a movie called Crisis Core on the flatscreen as the two shared popcorn. A salty hand reaching out to her prompted Arturia to pass the bucket to Bedivere, who was seated on the floor, in the little nook between the sofa and the coffee table.
It was the kind of peaceful setting Bedivere desired for his lord— lady . He observed that this time around, his king was far more at ease. Yes, she still sat straight as the royals often do, but the dip in the couch made her lean slightly to the right and into her brother's shoulder. And Kay, though his eyes remained on the flatscreen, looked like he was enjoying that little bit of contact.
Arturia seemed to like the film. So much so that she was showing several different micro-expressions as the movie went on, especially during the action scenes. To the production's credit, the sword-handling was quite realistic.
Bedivere sucked the salt from his fingers as his eyes drifted to the invitation on the coffee-table. Arturia's handwriting was neat and loopy as it always had been, and he'd admit it made him red just rereading the Dearest Bedivere on the top left. Did she normally sign her letters that way, or was his an exception? Beside the precious letter was another one, still sealed shut with an elaborate letter G inscribed on the back.
Who could it have been for? He wondered, especially when earlier that day Arturia told him she decided against delivering it. Gawain? He was so sure Arturia didn't yet know of Gawain or Tristan-
Tristan...
A sudden pang of guilt coursed through him as he recalled how his last visit went. Bottles upon bottles of alcohol and pain medication. Damn. But even if the redheaded knight wasn't ready to face her, Arturia deserved to know he was here...alive. And it wasn't just him. Sure, the others were elsewhere in the world at the moment, but...he had to tell her.
Bedivere had stood by her side from the very beginning. He was her first knight besides her brother and Merlin, the first to ever join her circle. He knew, from the way she treated his comrades that she cared for them deeply. Deeper than most of them knew. It should have been obvious. What other king sat their counsel on a round table to make sure everyone could be regarded with equal importance?
None. No other king would lower themselves to sitting anywhere else but the head of a mile-long table, the length often accentuated to emphasize rank and favor. No one would do that but Arturia, who regarded them all as equals despite what some neighboring royals did think.
He should tell her. She deserved to know. Tristan...Gawain, - god Gawain needed to talk to her soon- , and Percy? Oh, he would love to see her. He had to tell her, she had to know they were all here, Merlin and Kay be damned.
A light brush on his cheek startled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see it was just Kay's hand, reaching for the bowl sandwiched between his knees and chest. The knight's gaze was stern. His dark eyes bore into him like the older man could tell exactly what Bedivere was thinking. The way Kay looped his arm over his sister protectively seemed to emphasize that thought.
The most loyal handed the popcorn back to Kay and refocused on the television. The king's brother still kept a grudge with the more traitorous of the Table, and with good reason. Even Bedivere still had his reservations with Tristan. Plus, there was Lancelot, who had fallen even further in his eyes now that he knew his secret and the true nature of the incident with Queen Guinevere. But honestly, Bedivere knew Arturia would want to know. She had a right to. Surely, once she did find out, she would be cross with both her brother and he for keeping this to themselves for so long.
He sent a subtle glare in Kay's direction but did no more. There would be a time he could reveal all, but that would not be now. Now, there were more pressing concerns to worry about, Bedivere thought, as he stole a second glance at his invitation.
Diarmuid and Cú.
He knew the Irish knights were coming to the tournament as well, and given Iskandar wasn't competing they'd most likely be the ones he'd be matched with. He was...excited, in a way. But for all that excitement there too came the nerves. He would be competing against warriors famous enough to warrant their own legend. Hell, those two were popular enough that bards still sang of their tales when he was alive. And for people like himself and Kay, who were mostly part of their King's story, he believed he had reason to worry.
Wait... why was he worrying? He didn't have anything to prove to anyone. Right? Yep. He was great with a sword. He made up for his single-handed grip with brutal, often unexpected, force behind his strikes. He wasn't insecure about anything. Right? Yep. Definitely.
Alright...maybe he was a little nervous. Of course, he'd been keeping up his skills with regular training whenever he could, but still...his king would be watching. He hoped he could perform well as a representative of the Round Table.
He startled a little as her fingers came in at the corner of his vision, reaching past him to delicately lift the undelivered letter. She swept her thumb over the loopy "G" she herself had inked on the back and crossed her eyebrows. Gears were turning just behind her irises, and about what, Bedivere was tempted to ask.
Before he could, the movie came to a conclusion and Arturia took that as her cue to go and fetch Bedivere some blankets and more pillows for the couch. He was sure he'd be rested enough for tomorrow's matches, the sofa was more than comfortable. Plus, it beat staying with Tristan like he had been. It was...too sad.
"Ho~? You've gotten better at cutting vegetables, Saber."
Saber pinked at Shirou's praise and handed him the cabbage strips. It was just after five o'clock, and the former Master-Servant pair were preparing food for the attendees of the tournament later that night. The smell of fragrant rice wafted in the air from the table, where Sakura Matou had just finished preparing another tray of rice balls.
"I had the best teacher," Arturia voiced, turning away slightly to hide the heat in her cheeks.
Shirou stiffened, stirred the egg in his hands with his chopsticks and offered her a small smile. Right, he had forgotten about that. But...it had been ten years. Ten long years of nothing but change. No one could fault him for forgetting right?
He could practically feel Sakura's judging look from over his shoulder as he tried to focus on coating the chicken breasts he had prepared. Of course, Sakura knew about his little predicament. He should have known Rin wouldn't keep this from her sister. God, none of this would have happened if he'd just told Saber the truth outright.
The wedding band around his finger suddenly felt hot. Saber had been gone ten long years. Eight of those ten years he was married. Seven of them he had been a father. Six, a Counter Guardian.
He was almost entirely a different person. Attitude-wise, combat-wise...Compared to all the useless flailing around he did behind Saber's skirt in the Fifth War, he could actually hold his own.
Well...on a good day.
How many times has he almost died since he picked up the bow again? In the half of a decade he's served the world how many bullets did he pull out of his arm?
Being a Counter Guardian wasn't easy. His projection magic didn't cut it for the wars he had to prevent, no matter how many swords he produced. No, the bulk of them required stealth, precision. He learned that the hardest way imaginable, with Rin desperately resuscitating him on the mansion floor. Recovering from that injury brought him back to his roots, forcing him back to long range weapons even after all that training in the dojo.
And Rin...Rin was right there by his side through all of it. Even came with him sometimes, leaving Hoseki with Sakura and Illya. Come to think of it, she was his ally from the start. If she hadn't saved him with that family jewel of hers, she might have even won the war. Instead, she gave him back his life, helped him, supported his dream to be a hero...and gave him a future beyond that dream.
He still had that red gem, secured in a necklace just over his heart. In the end, it was after that fated jewel they named their daughter. Hoseki , a precious stone that symbolizes her parents' union more than perfectly. After all, it was the catalyst that summoned his future self as his wife's Servant.
His fate and Rin's were always intertwined, they just didn't see it back then. Shirou fumbled with the pendant as he caught his reflection on the granite table surface. He was looking more and more like Archer every day. His skin was slightly tanner. His hair was graying fast. They were exactly the same height now.
He'd changed.
Shirou doubted there was a shred of himself that remained from when he was eighteen. That included any feelings he had left for Saber. In hindsight, it was more of a crazy infatuation more than anything. They'd known each other for mere days, after all.
"I am deeply grateful for your offer to help. I'm afraid my request was a bit too much for the caterers on such short notice," Saber said, an apologetic smile on her lips.
Shirou felt another smile creep onto his countenance and he let his expression soften.
He wasn't saying he didn't care. He couldn't just forget about someone who was so influential in his life. It's just...he simply…
Didn't love her.
Their fingers brushed as she handed him a second bowl of vegetables, and there was another blush creeping up her neck clear as day.
Of course, she didn't know that.
Damn . A string of curses flitted through his head as he turned on the deep fryer, distracting himself with cooking. He thought offering to prepare the dinner for the tournament would give him and Saber enough time to talk it over, but he couldn't just shatter her spirits right before she went to meet with the Servants right? That was just too cruel.
Ha, yeah. And depending on how the situation played out he'd have two to six Servants after his head later that night. Who was that big guy he met last week? Iskandar? He looked like he could punch his head through a wall. If he wasn't mistaken, that Lancer fellow would be attending as well. He wasn't looking forward to feeling a barbed spear to the heart ever again.
But he had to tell her. He was married. He loved his wife. He loved his daughter. Yes, he might have shared Saber's feelings once upon a time, but that time had long passed. He moved on from her, even if once, he believed he never would.
"Saber-"
"Shirou," she interrupted, stepping into his space. It was a rare thing for her. She was usually so polite she'd wait for him to finish.
She tilted her head sideways, a troubled expression on her face, as an overwhelming sense of dread began to fill Shirou's already too preoccupied mind.
The way her eyes were fluttering was getting distracting. Was she nervous?
"Why don't you ever call me by my name? Is it not to your liking?" she asked, her eyes finally settling on the floor.
The redhead's shoulders slumped as he saw her lips turn downward. Had he been...hurting her?
"No, Saber," he rebutted, his voice soothing, "I just got used to calling you that is all."
He was lying through his teeth. The only reason he kept calling her by her class was to keep her at a distance.
"Well…" she replied, the frown on her face replaced with a polite smile. "I suppose that's alright."
The rest of the meal preparation went without a hitch. Thankfully he and Saber didn't speak too much after that. He was entirely unsure of how he was going to proceed. Still, he had to be honest with her, even if it meant breaking her heart. It would put his and Rin's mind at ease. Besides, they were running out of excuses to send Hoseki over to Illya's. The girl loved her aunt but there were only so many "business trips" he and Rin could take before their daughter got suspicious. She was too smart for her age.
Before he knew it, he was sending Saber off with a picnic basket on hand and a few foldable mats for her and the others to use. She smiled as she waved and turned to the beach.
He felt Sakura's presence before he heard her. "Shirou...you have to tell her. Saber-san is your friend as well, after all."
He slumped into the doorway. "I know, Sakura," he muttered, meeting her sad eyes.
"I know."