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"Your Majesty."
The king turned her gaze downward from the throne. Soon the plans for the round table would be completed, but for now she must cast her vision from above.
"Princess Guinevere has arrived."
A single, silent nod from the king bode the messenger to take his leave momentarily. The other knights and servants' hushed voices formed a fog of gossip which swirled around the room. The king herself kept her jaw tightly shut.
This day had been years in the making. Politics, messengers, back and forth in between bouts of war. Tales of the would-be betrothed's respective beauty reached each side with increasing fervor. Now, finally, their soon to be queen had arrived.
In walked a woman, clearing the fog. Her hair was done tightly, in the traditional fashion. And her eyes were like a calm sea; a visage of a moment frozen in time, a wave which would never crash.
And so warm as well. Her bright, shining features heating the solid stone that was the mind and body of the king.
"Hm… fish again?"
Saber looked at her plate from multiple angles. The burned out eye of the fish stared back.
Shirou gave an awkward grin. "Are you getting bored of it? I can stop by the market today and pick up some meat."
"Hmm…"
Her hair swished to the side as she picked up a piece with chopsticks. And taking a bite—no, this was different. "It's tangy."
Sitting down at his own side of the table, Shirou said, "Today's is marinated with orange peel. I know that guy at the fish shop gave me way too much mackerel, so I thought I'd try mixing it up."
It wasn't bad. The zest on her tongue spread evenly, slightly overpowering the saltiness in a way that wasn't bad. It didn't fade even as she finished her last bite. Saber looked up to Shirou shyly.
He predicted her words. "Aha… Yeah, there's more. Seconds then?"
The tangy feeling spread from Saber's tongue to her stomach, a smile spreading across her lips.
It was summer.
"I see. I understand."
That was all she said. As King Arthur spoke the secret truth to her alone in her bedchambers.
The king had heard whispers of her lady's devotion these past ten years. Guinevere had been elated at the engagement announcement, telling all of the exploits of the once and future king. A storm should be brewing in her eyes at this news. Any woman would be forgiven for despairing at such a farcical marriage. But this one did not.
They were to be wed. But the waves of the ocean could never overtake cliffs of stone.
"Oh, Shirou, look!"
Saber gaped as a huge splash made itself known towards the horizon. It was just barely visible to the naked eye even at the docks. An Archer would have been able to see the proper thing.
"A whale…?" Shirou replied. "No, couldn't be. Probably a big fish or something." But his smile wasn't facing the sea.
Once, Saber had told him she'd hated the sea. Years of blood shed from invaders at her shores was slow to wipe away. But she had learned to appreciate its beauty.
The horizon was so far off, stretching even further than even the strongest Servant could observe. She considered what the King of Conquerors had spoken of ten years ago. He was a man who had reached for the sea instead of feared it, and gazed upon the unknown without fear.
A breeze came and blew up her skirt. She hastily patted it down, her face growing a bit red. She looked back to see Shirou averting his eyes. Even now, as they had seen each other's bodies untold times he still flushed like a virgin. It was simply him.
And her own body was—
Their chambers were separate, as was tradition. To remain chaste outside the conception of an heir was only right for a true Christian king. But, the Servants whispered, they still expected the occasional night visit.
The king returned from a campaign, blood streaked across her armor. Their lands had been protected once again. Gawain slung his sword over his shoulder, Tristan made quick chatter with the servant ladies, and Lancelot disappeared off on his own. Much chatter and excitement filled the halls.
"Welcome back," Guinevere said with a bow. She smiled, the gray ocean within her tiding away. "I hear you were victorious. How wonderful!"
As she went to grab her husband's hand, the latter pulled it away. The queen's dress and hair were pristine. They were sure to be stained red by the king's own hand.
"Oh, Saber, you can take a bath first," said Shirou as he did the dishes.
She rose from her lone spot at the table, looking at everyone else doing their tasks. "If you insist, Shirou."
Saber made her way to the bathroom, undoing her hair and letting it fall below her shoulders. Then followed her blouse, skirt, and stockings. As the tub filled, she looked down at this body of herself; her strong yet thin arms, these arms which Shirou had held.
A few short months ago, this thing had been carved for battle. Nothing more than a means to the Holy Grail. Her arms were solid extensions of Excalibur. Her legs were pillars meant for kicking with the strike of Invisible Air. But at some point along the line, these mounds of hers on her chest had become breasts.
The whole kingdom was awaiting news of an heir. Ever since the unification, talks hadn't ceased.
Guinevere sat in an upholstered chair, looking down from an even finer window. The king watched her from across the room. This was their act. To not arouse suspicion, they spent a night together every so often. Their marriage had been consummated, according to rumor. It was only a matter of time before news of an heir.
The king said nothing, watching the beautiful woman in front of her sink down into daydreams like the sea. If only she was not born a woman, this burden would have befallen only her and her alone. To drag down another was a sin, so she must not part her lips.
Guinevere began to hum, something soft and soothing. If their marriage was real, if she was not the king, she wondered if her wife could sing that song to their child.
"Hehe… I found just the thing for you."
"Rin? What are you…?"
"Tada!" Rin whipped out a yellow blouse from behind her back. Its color was like fresh daffodils, circling a pattern of dark ruffles which looped around the center. Three buttons stood out in a strange place in the middle. It all came together to create a familiar shape.
It was… cute, but… "Isn't this a bit childish?"
"Oh, come on. Lions suit you better than anyone," Rin giggled. "Let's try it on."
Saber let Rin approach and undo the buttons on her current blouse. As she did so, she could feel the other's breasts press up against her arm. Even through Rin's shirt, they were warm. Saber felt the heat in herself grow as well.
The news of Merlin's plan didn't rock the sea.
Guinevere ran her fingers through her hair. "I see. I understand," she echoed. She was standing, even though her fine chair was right by her side. Her eyes were planted out the window, somewhere far in the distance.
And such a beautiful queen she was. Men spoke of her often, when they thought the king couldn't hear, about the curves of her body or the fine sheen of her hair.
But the king was a fraud so she could not feel such a thing as that longing desire. Besides, that was an emotion she had locked away in the stone.
"Tohsaka, what are you, ah…"
"Hehe, see something you like, Emiya-kun?"
Shirou's eyes flicked back and forth between the button's on Saber's blouse. Then, realizing where those buttons were placed, dashed his view upward, overshooting the mark and making eye contact with the space directly above Saber's head.
"Come on, there's no need to be shy," Rin teased. "We both know how cute she looks. Careful. One day I'll snatch her away."
"Rin…!" cried Saber, despite Rin's words giving her a pleasant twirl in the stomach.
With a sigh, Shirou mumbled, "It looks good on you…"
Saber ducked her head, caught between the affections of her two closest allies and unable to escape. This blouse was comfortable. And it suit her.
Royal garments fell from her shoulders to the floor. Her queen watched her remove the dress which costed a year's worth of peasant's wages—for she was a frugal king; a tyrant's dress would cost more than a peasant made in a lifetime.
Guinevere's pink lips widened just a bit, seeing the secret she'd only been told of now on view before her eyes. The corner of those eyes twitched. "So it's true," the eyes said.
The castle air was like ice, nipping the king's body top to bottom with chill. Her small breasts trembled with a shiver. And Merlin's gift was being shy.
Guinevere undid her own gown, showing the body of a woman. She lied down on the bed, her hair spreading out around her. Men across the land would be quaking with envy if they could see her in this state. Though they had no idea their queen was cursed with the burden of secrecy.
Climbing on top of the bed, the king loomed over her queen. Their bodies, so close, did nothing to heat the frozen room. If she had been a man, perhaps their consummation could have been real. If she was truly a woman, such a thing should be unnecessary.
The bedchambers remained quiet throughout the night. Merlin's gift had refused its duty.
A hushed dusk had fallen across Fuyuki.
Hands, rougher than Saber's though not by much at all, clasped with her own. Muscles, wider yet less pronounced than hers, ran against her body. With short breaths, they became one, trusting each other as their bodies moved in sync. Like sparring, Saber thought. Sometimes the best training was against one who knew all your techniques, forcing you to adapt to new circumstances. It was only natural, then, the same man should be there for her for both.
She gasped, whispered a name, and shook.
Someone across the room reached for her and pulled her the other way. Breasts pushed against her back, bare this time. A tongue—no, two—slipped over her collar bone and up her neck. A third set of hands, softer than both before, slid with smooth motion down her legs and towards her center.
It all tickled, thought Saber. Filling this human body of hers with sensations she'd never dreamed of. The dragon deep inside her roared its flame.
The king's wicked sister had taken something precious from her. Not only had the king been unable to use it herself, now it was in the hands of one of Camelot's worst enemies.
Something felt strange about that. A piece of her blood, meant for the queen, was ripped away. But stone did not have blood, so stone had nothing to miss.
She didn't tell Guinevere. Even if her queen must bare some of the burden, this, at the very least, she could spare from her. The plan for an heir failed. Camelot's dynasty would end with her.
Merlin smiled at her in a way she didn't understand, and with a wave of his staff took his gift back into thin air.
His heart was like a drumbeat. The summer crickets had gone, leaving it the only sound in the room.
This room of Shirou's he barely used was familiar to her now. As she took her permanent residency in the Emiya household, she was granted her own room to use as she wished. But after a night of passion, Shirou had fallen asleep. And why on Earth would Saber leave him. She blinked, willing her body to go back to sleep. Servants didn't dream, so this haze evaporating from her mind was another one of Shirou's memories. She didn't remember it anyway. All that remained was the sound of his breath.
Other nights, Saber was whisked away off to Rin's room. A "girls' sleepover" she said. Tucked in bed right next to Rin, who would tease her with ploys and gossip, she'd fall asleep and dream of her instead. Once in a while, Rin's voice would quiet, and she'd lie there silently with her head on Saber's shoulder. Together, they'd wait for morning to come.
The wave was beginning to crash. These days, weeks would go by where the king and queen didn't see the other's face. Long battles had worn armor and mind alike to dust.
She caught brief glimpses now and then. Around the corner of the hall, the king would spot that beautiful sea gazing towards her then quickly receding away.
Their audiences together were still part of their duty. Side-by-side they sat, hearing the pleas of their people. But these sessions were becoming rarer and rarer. Tensions in the country had gripped the people. Those who once spoke her praises now hushed their gossip.
There was a rumor going around, passing through her ear like smoke. It filled up the whole room like the day the queen had first arrived. But now it was suffocating, slowly smothering the court to death.
The king did not speak on that rumor. She could not. It was not the job of stone to attend to every unproven whisper.
Her only thought, was that if it was true, there was nothing she could do to save her.
"I am still impressed London stands after over a thousand years."
She'd been only a few countries away from it ten years ago. Summoned by the Einzberns, she'd been so close to Britain. Yet, at that time, her heart was still stone, unmoved by the pull of her homeland.
"Yeah…" Rin stretched, leaning back from the half-filled suitcase by her lap. "I'm sure you're excited to see it again."
"No," said Saber solemnly, "The Britain I knew no longer exists. Though the name remains, the country I once protected is no more. But… the land, the people, they are still there."
Rin looked over at her and grinned like a cat. "Well, I guess we just need to show you around the brand-new Britain. London isn't just a fortress town now, you know. It's a world class date spot. There's plenty of stuffed toy shops we can go to. Hehehe! And we can make Shirou carry our bags."
"Yes," Saber smiled, "that sounds like fun."
"But how are we supposed to get you there!" cried Rin, scratching at the sides of her head. "That good for nothing priest could have at least taught me something useful like faking a passport before he kicked the bucket!"
A memory—years ago yet also only months—rose in Saber's mind. "Rin, how long do passports last?"
It was an uproar. The haze of hushed voices had become a thunderstorm. Every room and hall echoed with cries of betrayal.
"How could this happen," the voices said. "An adultress for a queen? With one of the knights no less? What a joke of a country!"
She walked through the halls, the cold faces of her remaining knights trailing behind her. Sorrowful tears spilled from Percival's eyes. Gawain's brow was set and stern. Mordred… hadn't been seen since the king had given him her harsh words.
The voices echoed off the walls and reached her ears.
"Of course this happened. What woman on Earth could love such an inhuman king?"
This was a day like any other. They were out together, and once again stopped by the sea. The air was crisp. Though Saber wasn't from the Age of Gods, mystics still held much more power back then. In that way, this modern era's air felt empty. Thin not of oxygen but mana.
It was something she had said once. Somewhere, someplace. Her body remembered, even if her mind did not. Another world that felt oh so close. The air was warm.
Her mind swelled, she turned around, feeling the wind blow her ribbon against her neck. "Shirou."
The copper of his eyes looked back at her. Metal was not stone. Metal was not just carved from the Earth, it was twisted and shaped into something new. Empty inside but easy to fill. And he had been filled, with all of her and all of Rin.
She opened her mouth.
"I love you."
She'd come quickly at night as the castle prepared for hysteria. The king stood outside the cell, looking through the bars at her queen. Her face that had been so beautiful was ash pale and streaked with salt down her cheeks.
Guinevere kneeled on the ground like a corpse's attempt at fealty. She did not raise her head or speak a word.
The king stood there, looking at the ruinous sea. Something within the stone stirred. The burden of the lie rang across all her memories of this woman. A marriage set upon a promise which could never be maintained.
Several of her knights were dead. The one she would have wept for if stone was able to shed tears had gone mad. And one had been here waiting for her return, sword in hand as the son of stone.
There would be a battle soon. It was unlikely she'd return. Taking one last look at her queen, the king left without saying a word.
It was a cold night—for Fuyuki, at least. These were not the bitter months that had children desperately clutching at the hems of their clothes and praying to God they might survive the winter. It was comfortable on the veranda with only a light jacket, even if one wasn't a Servant.
Her legs rested over the edge and hung towards the ground. With no crickets this time of year, all was quiet. Other days she would spend meditating in the dojo in times like these. But today, she felt like looking at the sky.
The man she loved was preparing dinner. The woman she might also love was away researching in her room. She had felt both their flesh time and time again. Tears had streaked her face for them. After all, her body was made of magic and flesh.
Artoria looked up at the moon. In this modern day, the night sky she saw was locked away by human development, but the moon still remained the same. She closed her eyes, thinking of a smile she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen. "I'm sorry," she said to no one. "I might have loved you."