{ artoria pendragon } ♔ the once and future (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
arthuriana) wrote2019-11-01 08:59 pm
arthuriana) wrote2019-11-01 08:59 pm
a secret |
[ Desert sand is still caught in between the plates of Artoria’s boots, though they no longer stood on the marble floors of Uruk. She was released from duty - her Master and the Shielder gone to discuss their findings with the good doctor. The echoes of her footsteps in Chaldea’s sterile halls serve to amplify her thoughts, a metronome to which her confusion could be amplified.
After their return from Camelot, her Master had asked, with his eyes compassionate and wide, if she would prefer to sit out on missions for a while. If she required time to collect her emotions, after witnessing the Lion King and what could have been, then she would be granted it. But no - better not to dwell, on things that never were. She knew how her story ended.
It was another matter, however, to see how a different story had continued.
In Uruk had ruled a beloved king with a tyrant’s face, who spoke rationally with the same tongue that had scorned humanity as weeds in a garden. When she had seen him, she had held her sword by the hilt, awaiting a moment that never came. The moment when Gilgamesh, the king of heroes, would reveal himself as the beast she had fought to his death. And instead -
Artoria recalled her own face, unchanging and cold as marble, and immune to the cries of her people. While Gilgamesh sat upon his throne, and listened one by one to the problems of the masses.
Her footsteps stop, and Artoria turns to look out of a window. The ice and snow could not be further from the lands of Mesopotamia, but she is not looking out to see. Is the border of tyranny so easily trespassed? Not a cliff that, once leapt from, becomes impossible to climb back up - but a border, as between kingdoms, that one can travel over in either direction? She sighs in silence, where her lips only purse, and turns around, to head back to where she had just left from.
Merely entering his presence has been enough to set her hackles loose - with his voice, she remembers his taunts over Shirou’s body, and his demands of her submission. With a turn of those scarlet eyes towards her, she recalls a church, a priest, and defiled innocence. But - she can swallow her bile, and stand at the threshold of his presence. ]
Archer —
There is something I must discuss with you.
After their return from Camelot, her Master had asked, with his eyes compassionate and wide, if she would prefer to sit out on missions for a while. If she required time to collect her emotions, after witnessing the Lion King and what could have been, then she would be granted it. But no - better not to dwell, on things that never were. She knew how her story ended.
It was another matter, however, to see how a different story had continued.
In Uruk had ruled a beloved king with a tyrant’s face, who spoke rationally with the same tongue that had scorned humanity as weeds in a garden. When she had seen him, she had held her sword by the hilt, awaiting a moment that never came. The moment when Gilgamesh, the king of heroes, would reveal himself as the beast she had fought to his death. And instead -
Artoria recalled her own face, unchanging and cold as marble, and immune to the cries of her people. While Gilgamesh sat upon his throne, and listened one by one to the problems of the masses.
Her footsteps stop, and Artoria turns to look out of a window. The ice and snow could not be further from the lands of Mesopotamia, but she is not looking out to see. Is the border of tyranny so easily trespassed? Not a cliff that, once leapt from, becomes impossible to climb back up - but a border, as between kingdoms, that one can travel over in either direction? She sighs in silence, where her lips only purse, and turns around, to head back to where she had just left from.
Merely entering his presence has been enough to set her hackles loose - with his voice, she remembers his taunts over Shirou’s body, and his demands of her submission. With a turn of those scarlet eyes towards her, she recalls a church, a priest, and defiled innocence. But - she can swallow her bile, and stand at the threshold of his presence. ]
Archer —
There is something I must discuss with you.
no subject
Oh? An audience with the King of Knights, is it? [ he leans against the wall, looking indolent and not at all like one who would be fighting in this grandiose battle to save humanity. how easily a face and posture can shift. really, he coils like a serpent, a waiting predator, disarming in the ease of pleasure he shares during his leisure hours with that other King, that Pharaoh of whom he is fond. ] Very well. You may speak and be heard. I am listening.
[ there is no reason, here, for them to fight. still... ]