"All long, I saw you in the past. You, now, and the future to come." Court Advisor Merlin to King Arturia I of Her Name.

Chapter 6: The First of Many

She blinked, but there was still darkness. Wiggling her toes and fingers, she could feel her body yet couldn't see anything. "Give me one second!" A man's voice said. He sounded relatively close to her, but there was still nothing around her, only darkness.

Lifting her head up, she felt something sharp in the back of her head, as if it were stuck there.

That was when Jeanne realized she was lying down on something rather extremely uncomfortable. She had a helmet over her head, and she was being held down.

Suddenly, light-filled her vision as she saw a man looking down at her. He was looking down at her. In his hand was a large helmet that had painted her world in darkness. She felt something being pulled out of the back of her neck with a sharp sting.

The world started to come into view; she felt more grounded when she realized that she was on a metal bed with restraints.

What Jeanne saw around her was such strange and mysterious Large lights that illuminated the room. Everything was made out of metal or glass. Strange color ropes snaked everywhere. What any of these were for, she could hardly guess.

A bright light showed above her as if it was the middle of the day.

"Are you feeling alright?" The man asked. That was when her eyes met the man again. He wore strange glass in front of his eyes that matched his graying stubble of his chin. The man looked as if he barely ate or slept, skin to the bone with sunken-in eyes. "I imagine this is a lot to take in. Even if Emily showed you glimpses here and there."

So…. Welcome to my home. Emily said a bit bashfully.

To say it was a bit dreary and depressing would be an understatement.

"Can you move?" The man asked, shining a light orb in her Amethyst eyes. "Interesting… slight change in eye color, no change in muscle mass or skeletal structure…"

Without a bit of extra thought, she moved her hands and feet to find that she was restraint by some metal braces.

"Can you speak?" He asked.

It certainly felt weird. Like she had to picture her throat to make the movements. "I.. believe…" The blonde woman said, with a slight French accent.

"Amazing, blending of French and English accents. For the record, who am I speaking with?"

It's alright, you can trust him. He's a doctor, an actual doctor.

With a bit of trepidation, she finally gave her name. "Jeanne d'Arc."

The man gave a joyous shout waving his hands in the air. "WE DID IT! WE ACTUALLY DID IT!: He froze and whirled around. "Jeanne d'Arc? The actual Saint, right? The Maiden of Orleans? You led troops into battle, right?" The eagerness in his voice disproved that the man was half-dead.

The blonde nodded hesitantly, "I'm not a Saint… I was just a peasant girl, but yes, I did lead troops."

"And you have her personality! I can't believe it! Emily! We did it! WE DID IT! She actually has her personality!" The doctor beamed with excitement. Her first impression of this man was a dead, lifeless man, but that opinion started to change considerably.

Though something did stick in her mind

'I have her personality. What... I am Jeanne… why wouldn't I be me? What did he mean by her personality?' Jeanne wondered to herself. 'Am I not me?'

Don't worry about it. You are most certainly you. He's just happy we brought you back.

"Um… can I be free of these restraints?" Jeanne spoke up, her gaze falling upon the restraints she wriggled in.

The doctor nodded eagerly as he pressed a few buttons and the metal bracelets retracted. Sitting up from the table, she truly realized she was in someone's body that was not her own. In fact, she realized she wasn't even in the right time period anymore. She wore… pants and a long white jacket that clung over her pants and blue blouse. This…. This was different.

Take your time.

She swung her legs over the table. "By my report, your R-cells are activating inert and recessive traits of Emily."

"Um…?"

It means my body is adapting your mind and your former body.

Jeanne nodded slowly, still not understanding where this is going. "Shoot, I forgot! Is Emily doing alright?"

Jeanne nodded, feeling somewhat more comfortable asking about something she knew, "She is doing well. You're her… mentor."

The doctor exhaled, "That's a relief, and yes, I am."

Looking down, she saw a tube that was connected to her arm. "Oh shoot, sorry about that. Ever since you, erm Emily, went in. I needed to feed a steady stream of R-cells to keep you from desyncing."

.She removed the IV in her arm, wincing slightly. She saw clear fluid slowly drip out of the see-through rope that was in her arm. That was when she saw the other two hooked up to the same machine. They were starting to come as well. "Fortunately for you, there weren't a lot of body adaptations for you to go through. For them… though… it was a bit rough. Especially for Artoria. Or Dr. Ava…"

The doctor moved to remove Dr. Ava's helmet. Jeanne gasped to see her or Emily's friend's appearance change. Her hair was much longer, and she appeared much younger. Compared to the delicate, almost sickly features that Jenanne could recall from Emily's memories, her muscles were much larger. She opened her green eyes.

This was the Artoria that Jeanne remembered from the other world.

The braces were released as the woman rolled over to her side. She looked rather queasy. Instinctively, Jeanne reached for a bucket as Dr. Ava and Artoria heaved into the bucket.

Looking away, Artoria continued to relieve herself for several minutes. It slowed down to the point where she stopped.

Putting down the bucket, Jeanne loomed with concern for her friend. "Artoria?"

She nodded, still feeling green. "Hmmm. Still suffering from effects of R-cell injections." The doctor rubbed his chin.

"R-cell?"

"Uhhh, nothing. Just to take it easy."

Artoria slowly sat up, removing the IV from her arm. She looked similar to her proper form in the digital world, down the bun. Though she wore what Jeanne finally figured out as glasses, a device that helps with vision.

"Ah, things are blurry," Artoria said as she rubbed her eyes.

Jeanne reached out and removed the frames of these vision devices. A quick glance through, she could see the problem.

"I can see much clearer." She said as she wiped her eyes.

"Oh my… the R-Cells actually altered Dr. Ava's physiology. This is amazing."

A thud was heard as the third person stirred. They removed the helmet and actually freed themself from the device. It was Atalanta or her master. Though her hair was tinged green like her emerald eyes. "Oh wow. Voleta's DNA was altered to the point her hair and eyes changed color."

The woman stood up and took several steps back. "Keep your distance." The huntress warned.

"Who is he…" Artoria asked as she rubbed her stomach. She must still be feeling ill.

"Dr. Anders." Jeanne. "He was the man in charge of the project to get it back, working closely with Emily."

"This is truly amazing!"

The short, slender woman bent her legs as if she were about to pounce " I am warning you, strange man."

Wanting to avoid any bloodshed, Jeanne stepped in between the two causing the huntress to relax.

"Maybe it would be wise for us to get acquainted with this… place. You look rather tired, and you might need some rest."

"How can I sleep with all of these…"

"You. Must. Rest. Now." Jeanne put her foot down, and the man relented.

"Alright…. The man lamented, but once I'm up, I have a great many tests."

"Sure. Just sleep." Jeanne crossed her arms.

The man walked off and headed down the wall, leaving the three women in the room. "Wow… Jeanne…" Artoria laughed while wincing in pain, "Ehhh, don't make me laugh, still feel a bit nauseous."

The maiden shrugged shyly. "I didn't want our new friend to kill him."

Atalanta straightened up with her arms crossed as if to say, I'm above such petty things. "Would not." A moment of silence, "but I appreciate your assistance."

Artoria stood up from her bed who nearly fell, only to be caught by Atalanta lightning reflexes. "Sorry… guess… I'm still a bit weak."

"Well, let's see if we can find a more comfortable location," Jeanne suggested.

"Indeed, this… place smells of nothing but metal… and…" Well, Atalanta didn't finish the statement. All eyes fell upon the bucket.

"Sorry…" Artoria apologized sheepishly.

Personal quarters are down the hall and to your left.

Jeanne waved the other two to follow until she saw names on different doors. Anders certainly did not. Halsy. Voleta, and Ava.

Artoria nodded for Jeanne to look open the door. They were greeted with a large empty room save for a wooden desk with a metal contraption of sorts that had multiple buttons with letters of the alphabet on each one. On the wall hung a black, voided window that led to nowhere, a smaller wooden door, and a clean white room. In the corner of the room was what appeared to be a bed with covers that matched her combat dress in the other world.

Atalanta helped her over to the bed. The moment she sat down, Artorias face lit up. "What is it?" Atalanta asked.

"The bed."

"Yes?"

"Sit."

"It's just a bed."

Artoria pulled on her arm, and Atalanta plopped on.

Her face also lit up.``this…. Is… the… most… comfortable…. Bed…. Ever…."

Raising an eyebrow, she, too, sat down. After all, how great could it be? It was just a bed, right? Jeanne practically gasped. 'EMILY IS YOUR WORLD THIS GREAT?'

it felt like she sat upon a cloud. "I can't believe our masters sleep on things such as these…" Artoria whispered in awe. So much softness.

"I never want to get up."The huntress practically purred.

Enjoying the comfort of this bed for a few moments, Artoria sighed. "Is anyone uneasy about this?"

Jeanne opened her eyes. "About what?

"We have no direction. We have no idea what's going on. We're in a war we have no part in. We shouldn't even be alive."

Jeanne could understand where Artoria was coming from. Everything was so chaotic. And now, history wasn't even going as it should have been. If there was going to be the second siege of Orleans… it almost made her life feel like she didn't accomplish anything with her life. All that blood. All those lives lost. Even her own, lost, only to be rewritten by the Order. The same Cabal that arrested Jeanne, sold her, and executed her… or at least that's what Emily and Ava believed.

"I apologize. I don't wish to lower morale…"

"Your concerns are our concerns." Atalanta finally spoke up as she stared at the ceiling. "I don't understand all of these things. Or this… Order… but I know that I don't want humanity to be enslaved just as I was. That's a good enough reason for me, and if I'm brought back to help free people from manipulation, then I can rest easy."

Jeanne and Artoria shared an impressed look. It seems like this cold, ruthless hunter did have a soul after. "We know our first objective." Jeanne added, "It's under the Orleans Cathedral, in the Roman catacombs. Once we have what we need, we will move from there.

Artoria exhaled as she laid on the bed, "Thank you, I'm glad we are doing this together."

Jeanne smiled, "I as well."

Atalanta hummed in response.

The three sat in silence, enjoying the peace and comfort while it lasted.

If this bed was just one modern convenience, Jeanne was eager to see what else this place had to offer. However, that could wait. She supposed she could get to know her compatriots first.

"What was it like being a king?" Jeanne broke the silence while acquiring a pillow and tested for maximum comfort level. And well, it surpassed the hay or feather pillows she slept on.

"Yeah… I was wondering that myself. Being surrounded with wealth and food. Must have been pretty great." Atalanta wondered out loud.

Artoria's eyes peeped open, "I failed as a King. I couldn't have been the real me… I had to pretend to be a man. My life was a waste."

Now it made sense why she was a woman but was called king. "My Father… was a Roman General, Uthur Pendragon… as the empire fell. Britain was forgotten, and my family was more loyal to the people rather than some distant Emperor…"

"This… Rome… was a large Empire… That ruled over many different lands?" Atalanta asked.

Strange, everyone knew about Rome. Even Jeanne, a mere French peasant, heard of Rome's fantastic tales and legends of King Arthur.

"Indeed it was." Artoria continued, "A mighty empire… that abandoned its own people…" Artoria's voice became bitter, causing Jeanne to place a hand on her friend's soldier. "Our lands were being invaded… by raiders while our cowardly emperor ordered us to return home. My father resisted and revolted, declaring himself King of Britain to defend our people from the Saxons and Angles."

"He sounded… like a good man," Atalanta murmured.

The King shrugged, "I don't know… he was always away on campaign while I was a child. And… considering how I was his only legitimate child, I was raised, dressed, and fought like a man."

Atalanta was a bit stunned by this. "Why hide who you are? You seem pretty capable as who you are." She sat up with an inquisitive look that was slightly taken aback by the comment.

Artoria humbly nodded at the acknowledgment. "I appreciate that. In Roman society, women were not respected. To present a unified front after my father's death and prevent civil wars, I was chosen to be his heir, my sex hidden away. Under armor, I could pass off as a feminine man, which the roman legionnaires could respect."

Jeanne looked at her friend with newfound admiration and yet pity. She couldn't be who she was meant to be. Always hiding to protect her people. "What happened?"

Looking over the sea from the governor palace of Londinium. It had been mere days since Prince Artoria received word that she was now king of Britannia. Her father died during battle, defeating a large host of Saxon invaders. The same one that was anchored offshore.

And now her rule was being threatened by the very same massive fleet of Angles and Saxons. Scouting parties were found raiding the villages along the Thames River. Now the fleet was visible off in the horizon.

A Roman centurion approached, snapping to attention, "What is thy bidding, my Lord."

Artoria stared off in the distance, seeing smoke rising off in the distance. Even this fortified city couldn't hold off the invasion that had arrived. Pillaging and murdering, and she didn't have the forces to stop it. She only had twelve hundred legionnaires under her personal command, not to mention the town militia. Londinium was filling up with too many refugees. It would be a bloodbath.

Her father would hold onto the city, even if it meant the fall of the kingdom. It was the capital; if the kingdom didn't have a capital, it didn't deserve to exist. Yet, if she died, there would be no king of Britannia. It would be free land for the Saxons. And there was no way to hold onto the city.

"Evacuate the people to Viroconium. Assemble my Legion." The young king ordered, still gazing at the dragon ships off on the horizon.

Hearing the soldier leave, she let out a sigh, "Father. Help me to be a good King…"

A flash happened.

An image of her standing before her father, all alone in the throne room. He gestured for her to take a seat on the throne.

Not knowing any better, she did. She climbed up the chair and sat there. "Remember Artoria… with that chair comes great responsibility."

"What's that?" The child asked with eyes filled with wonder.

"Rules you have to follow. The number one, the only one. You serve the people that look up to you. You will make hard decisions as a king, but it must always be for the betterment of the people."

Artoria nodded in awe.

Preparing herself to make her very first address was not easy for Artoria. She was never good with words, and now she had to make a speech of all things that will rally the troops. Thankfully she had the support of her friends, who were the twelve captains of the Legion. Yet, now she wasn't one of the ordinary soldiers anymore. She was the leader, the King, and it was time to act like it.

She donned her blue cloak and clasped it around her breastplate. Inhaling sharply to steady her nerves, she stepped out on the balcony. Twelve hundred men stood at attention in block formations, their captains holding their swords out at attention.

She looked down at them, seeing them tired, nervous, anxious, scared, dismissive, and hopeless. All of them were tired and worn out. She decided to walk down the spiral staircase and out onto the assembly square. The soldiers watched in awe as their King took himself on their level. How could their general, their King, address them as such.

"My men!" Artoria shouted at the top of her lungs, "My dear men!"

All of them were starting to perk up at this unconventional commander.

"I know! I know you are tired! I know you are hungry! I know you want to give up. All seems lost!"

Though they all stood at attention, she could definitely feel the tone shift in the army as they started to listen. "But if we leave, there will be no homes to go back to." Her voice dropped with sorrow, "The Angles and Saxons don't just want our land. They want YOUR land. They want your families. They want you! They will plunder and murder innocents, your loved ones, your parents. Your children will be enslaved if they are unlucky..."

The men grumbled in anger as they started whispering and murmuring. "I didn't want war! But war has found us."

They nodded in agreement,

"That is why we have a hard decision before us!" Artoria shouted. "We can disband and hope they don't find you and your family. Or…. We can fight day and night! We can rebuild and claim our rightful lands! I will fight for our people. I will be leading our people to the Western mountains where we gather our strength and harass the enemy."

"What about the Britons?" A soldier asked, earning a bunch of hushes. How dare a common soldier feel fear toward the local island inhabitants.

Artoria turned towards the man, "An excellent question. The Britons are not fond allies, but the Saxons don't discriminate; they kill both us for pure enjoyment; that is why we shall build a united front to push out the Saxons!"

There was dissension among the ranks. How could the Romans fight alongside these dirty savages? How could a king order his men to fight alongside an enemy they have fought for centuries?

The men disagreed, fearing betrayal, feeling disgusted. Until Artoria raised her fist in the air.

"I know you don't trust them. But the enemy of our enemy is our friend, and they feel the same. We know each other, and I would rather fight with them than lose everything to the Saxons."

The men agreed, actively discussing this with each other.

"If any man wishes to go home, to see their loved one, go now. No one will reprimand you. At all. You have my personal protection."

She half expected the army to collapse right then and there, or at the very least hundreds of men leave in mass, but each one stood still. Silent. At attention.

They drew all their swords in unison, crying out towards heaven, "Hail King Artoria!"

With that, Artoria smiled. Her soldiers trusted her. She only hoped if she could live up to the expectations of her.

Thus Artoria and her Britannia Legion harassed the Saxon armada and scouts with hit and run tactics. Rarely losing soldiers.

The evacuation was nearly complete when Artoria gave the heartbreaking order, the start of a long list of them that would plague her reign as King. "Burn the city," Artoria ordered upon horseback.

She made sure to watch the scene as her army marched out. The city burned; the howls of raging fire snapped at and consumed the homes of her people. The city of her father. The city of her ancestors. The city of her childhood.

It plagued her heart most grievously seeing her home being consumed in flames.

Desperately she wanted to cry, but she steeled herself. A. King. Does. Not. Cry. She bit her lip and reared her horse. It was time for them to build a new home for her people and her future child. Her child will never have to give an order to burn her own house down. No, her child will grow up being a good king.

Her child.

Artoria fell silent after retelling one of the most painful memories she remembered. "You cared about your people." Jeanne reasoned, trying to help her friend's pain, "and war forces us to make hard choices."

"Sometimes, we don't have an option," Atalanta added.

"I suppose," Artoria said as she reached her hand out towards the light source in the room.

"I believe you were still a good king," Atalanta said as she sat up. "I haven't heard of you and am only getting my info from my guardian, but I can say you did well."

Artoria did not respond as she continued to stare up in the light. "I don't wish to be rude, but I would like to be alone with my thoughts."

Jeanne looked at Artoria, who was deeply sad. "Sure. Please… if you need anything, please let us know."

Atalanta nodded.

With that, Jeanne stood up and slowly walked out, giving a last look before closing the door. The last thing she heard was her silently sob out, "Mordred."

"She isn't doing well… huh?" Atalanta said with a deep frown, leaning against the wall. "I feel like that's one of the curses of this life."

Jeanne looked up to see the huntress staring at her hands. "We three… are heroes during our times, no? Yet how often do heroes die in tragically short lives."

"Maybe that's why we are here…" Jeanne said as the two walked down the hallway, past the different rooms and the science room. They entered a rather large room filled with tables, chairs, and day beds. She took note of a strange green table with a net over. Peculiar.

"What do you mean?" Atalanta asked as she hopped on the counter of some segmented part of the room with strange machines.

Jeanne opted to sit on a relatively high chair that matched the height of the counter. "Suppose God, or… I guess in your case… Gods… brought you back, so we could resolve some of the regrets in our hearts when we died…?"

The huntress asked the maiden with a blank, expressionless face, "You have regrets?"

Jeanne nodded. "Yes."

"What were they?"

The biggest one was the retraction she made. "I… was brought before my execution site. And they tied me up… They offered me freedom if I signed a document. I signed it so I could get a confession… but I had no idea what the document said."

Atalanta frowned at the maiden's regret as if she knew where she was coming from. "You were tricked, no?"

Jeanne nodded, "I immediately retracted what I signed when I realized what it was."

"What was it?"

"I admitted to being a heretic."

Atalanta nodded, "So a traitor to your God. I am sorry for that pain you carry."

"What about you?" Jeanne asked.

Atalanta shrugged, "Nothing. I lived how I lived. I did my best. That's all that could be said."

Jeanne sighed, "You are most fortunate."

Atalanta shrugged, but her gaze lingered. She hopped off the counter, "I need some rest. I think my guardian does as well… so…" Atalanta gave a concerned look, "Are you going to be alright?"

Jeanne nodded, "I need to eat, but I will retire afterward."

Atalanta placed a hand on Jeanne's shoulder, "Thank you for giving me another chance."

With that, Jeanne was alone. She could feel her master's trepidation. We all have regrets… maybe, but why did it feel like it was soul-crushing. Then again… they wouldn't be regrets if they weren't at times soul-crushing. "I signed that paper… as if I were some stupid child… told to do so… all because I wanted a confession."

You didn't know Jeanne… Emily patted Jeanne on the mental shoulder.

Hmmm… and at least she retracted the signature to the English and Burgundians' disgust, alike. Though… it led to her death. Images of her being dragged in chains ran through her mind. She was led through the town to the silence of the crowd.

Do me a favor…

Jeanne perked up

Do you see that cabinet up above?

She felt a mental finger point towards a small wooden door next to a large, white metal-like coffin called a refrigerator. Apparently, it was like a dirt cellar, meant to keep things cold.

Jeanne stood up and opened a container. Inside was a small box which she reached up for. "Hot… Coco?" She said out loud.

You're going to learn how to use some of these things for cooking.

That was oddly exciting as well as a nerve-wracking idea. But you never learn by saying no… "Alright, you're going to have to show me how."

Thus began a long and lengthy process of listening carefully, following mental images, and lots and lots of sneezes. "It smells… sweet?" She said as she stuck a finger into the dirt like powder. Taking a lick, she decided it wasn't too bad.

Now… here was a liquid form…. It created a sweet, warm, almost muddy water beverage.

AND Marshmallows.

Pointed to the cabinet, she pulled out a large bag of "Jet… Puffs…" Jeanne read out loud. Then it dawned on her… She caught herself. "I KNOW HOW TO READ!" Jeanne shouted with excitement. "Emily! I know how to read!"

You have such a great teacher to teach you while you weren't even aware.

"Thank you, Emily!" It felt like a whole new world opened up to her. She could read. She could write—all of the possibilities.

Consider this a celebratory treat for your hard work, Emily laughed.

Jeanne opened the box of the strange soft cubes. They were a bit powdery. Smelled strange. "You can eat these? They seem like miniature pillows."

Just try it.

Jeanne sniffed it and took a hesitant bite. Definitely fluffy and chewy at the same time. And SWEET OH SO SWEET.

Now combine the two…

She dumped three of the puffy sweet cubes into the mud water and watched how the cubes slowly melted into the warm beverage. After a minute, she took a sip and was instantly amazed at the sweetness that overpowered her tastebuds.

She decided. This was, by far, hands-down, one of the most fantastic drinks. Deep down, she noticed a feeling of surprise from Emily, as if she was caught off by Jeanne's reaction. Then again, Emily never had some of the bland gruel given to French soldiers, let alone to prisoners.

She took a long, flavorful sip, enjoying the warmth and comfort this drink offered. Truly a treasure, Jeanne thought to herself to the giggles of Emily in the background. Then it dawned on her.

Artoria sat on her bed, remembering. "I'm sorry, Ava… I didn't mean to drag you through some of those more painful memories. A king should be stronger."

Artoria, it's alright to let the guard down sometimes. You don't have to put on a show for everyone.

That advice, it might be true…. But it was so contrary to her nature. "I… I don't know how…" Artoria closed her tired eyes.

Reliving those memories must be exhausting.

"Feeling those memories must be exhausting." Artoria countered with a smile.

You… called out for Mordred.

That name was like a dagger to her heart. "I… I wish not to think about that right now…"

I'll do my best to contain those memories, Ava resolved. You were handling yourself well with those memories.

"It helps to be in the company of friends…" Artoria's eyes shot open with a dagger of guilt, "Not that I mean you're not my friend… I mean… you are, but…"

Ava hardly laughed, so when Artoria heard a laugh, it was startling. Relax, Artoria, I know. I do want to be honest with you. The memories you're experiencing now are going to much more… intense when we are in Britain.

Britain, her homeland. Doing some sifting through Ava's extensive knowledge, she started to understand that Britain, her people, was an old and proud nation. And that she, herself, was the same legend, if not the mythical founder of her kingdom.

It was flattering and also somewhat scary. And yet… her heir's name was hated…

Nope.

The King's mind was hijacked.

*knock knock*

A light tap on her door filled the silence causing the King to sit up from her bed. "...Artoria…?" A hesitant voice called. It was unmistakable. It had a light English tone with a bit of a French accent.

Artoria stood up and made her way up to the door. Upon opening, she was greeted with a somewhat nervous Jeanne, who held two mugs of a steaming brown liquid with lumpy white… foam.

Though it didn't look too good. It smelt divine. Artoria steeped and waved Jeanne in. "I wanted… to make you something… to… cheer you up."

"Oh, there is no need, Jeanne. I'm"

Jeanne walked in, placing the cup down before turning around and facing Artoria with a concerned look.

"Artoria. You were crying…

"What? Me…? I do not cry."

"Listen, I don't think any less of you." She picked up a mug offering to Artoroa, "but know that we are here for you. You don't have to carry that weight by yourself."

Jeanne held the mug out. Truth be told, Artoria was beyond stunned. This was the first time that someone was open with her telling her to let open up. That she didn't have to be King, she could be Artoria.

She reached and thankfully took the cup in one hand while embracing the maiden. "Thank you, It is hard for me, but I will try." Breaking away. Artoria took a sip of the sweet drink, which warmed her to the core.

"Heavenly, no?" Jeanne asked as she started to sip on her mug.

Artoria couldn't tell if it was the drink that warned her heart, Jeanne's action. Maybe a King could have friends.

It never hurts to ask.

'I am not some kind of child.' Artoria laminated at the very notion of asking for friendship.

Did you ever have friends besides your knights? You know, ones not sworn to you.

Now that she thought about it. No, she never had, and deep down, she wanted, she longed for that friendship without oaths being sworn.

Artoria took a very long sip, preparing herself for the most humiliating thing. "Jeanne."

The maiden perked up with a happy smile, "yes?"

Artorias brow furrowed. Why did this have to be so dang hard! "Well… I was wondering… if you were alright with it…" her voice started to trail " "...could maybe….. rend"

Jeanne raised an eyebrow with a genuine look of confusion. "I'm sorry…? What?"

Artoria sighed, a bit flustered with herself.

Just rip the bandage off.

"If you want could we be friends?" Artoria asked.

A warm, genuine smile formed Jeanne's lips as she took Artoria's hand. "I thought we already were," she giggled.

"I ermm… well… yes but…."

"I know it's hard for you and Atalanta for your different reasons, but yes. I would love to be your friend, and I am elated that you see me as one."

Artoria took stock of the situation. Ava was right. She was right. A king could have friends. This new friend didn't do so out of loyalty or oath, but from the heart, and that was most certainly a gem in the King's heart.

"Then let us drink to this existent and newfound friendship!" The King lifted her mug in the air.

Heyo people!

Longest chapter yet. I'm somewhat happy with it. I struggled with trying to write these characters as experiencing and seeing a new world far ahead of their own. I hope I did alright.

We also got see some Artoria back story, already making some changes. I'm making her timeline right around the collapse of the Western Roman Empire, while Britannia was being invaded by two of the biggest tribes, the Angles and Saxons, the two become one, and that's how we get Anglo-saxons.

Also Atalanta cares about people. Who knew.

Anywho, if you enjoyed the chapter, please leave fav, follow, and/or review, it all truly means the world to me and encourages me to do my best. You have thoughts, ideas, theories, suggestions, feedback, any and all.

I remain your humblest and most faithful of servants,

Sauron