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Passionlip has always dreamed of finding a knight to cherish her. Ever since she first heard of gallant heroes rescuing maidens from danger, she's held those delicate images close to her heart. She may be much stronger than any maiden—and more monstrous—but she won't let that stop her wish. Even if there's no way it could come true...
And yet, whether in Seraphix or Chaldea, Sir Gawain considers her a lady.
---
"Allow me," Gawain says, catching Passionlip's lunch tray before it crashes to the cafeteria floor. "You worked tirelessly today, and food will do you good."
"Th-Thank you," she stammers in return, as he guides her over to one of the many long white tables that dot the hall. "I'm...I'm sorry for causing you trouble again!"
"Oh, I assure you, it's no trouble at all." Gawain's smile is as dazzling as sunlight rippling on ocean waves. "Even Servants must hone their reflexes." He sits down as casually as he has every other time they've eaten together these past months, setting her tray down opposite his.
It takes Passionlip a bit of wiggling before she can get herself comfortable—her breasts seem determined to rest on any available surface, which only draws unwanted attention to them. And her claws are even more of a hassle. With one wrong move, her knife and fork will turn to powder.
Gawain doesn't seem to mind waiting. "Did anything of note happen today?" He always asks this, leaning forward in his seat in subtle anticipation of what she's about to say. As if her thoughts are sacred.
He's in luck: something did happen today. "Mr. Asterios let me pet his hair," she says, still giddy at the gentle sensation of wool against her claws. "And he wasn't nervous about me at all!"
"Well done!" Gawain chuckles warmly. That the pride in his eyes is directed at her is almost embarrassing. "You see? It's as Master said—if you wait until others know you better, you'll have nothing to fear."
She nods, a smile of embarrassed pride tickling her lips. Then her belly gurgles, not caring how important this conversation is. "E-Excuse me!" Picking up her utensils gentle as a honeybee landing on a flower, she tries to scoop up a forkful of potatoes and—
—CRUNCH.
Gawain gives a slight flinch. "Oh dear."
She can only whimper, staring in horror at the seventh hole she's made in a cafeteria table since she arrived.
And I was so careful too! ...I know. Maybe the table wasn't sturdy enough; or the fork wasn't made right! Her mind babbles excuses without stopping.
In some ways, things haven't changed. She still can't see the problem in front of her even if it's in high-definition.
"Lady Passionlip..." Gawain looks at her straight-on with gentle firmness. "...There's something you can do to help."
"'Help'?" Her mind slowly churns toward this new idea, turning it around in her head like a crystal glass catching the light. Then: clarity. "Oh! Yes. I'll go apologize right away!"
"Good. And when you return—if you wish—I shall reward you."
"Y-Yes please!" After a bit more wiggling, she wrestles herself from the table and scurries off to apologize to Archer and the other chefs.
---
It's always a surprise to learn that in Chaldea, no-one hates Passionlip. Some might dislike her, or not want to talk to her, but no one wants to hurt her. Archer and the other chefs accept her apology without delay...though she does have to help pick up the pieces. It's hardly difficult work, but it's still embarrassing having other people watch her clean the mess she made.
"You're doing well," Gawain tells her, holding a plastic bag for her to dump the table-chunks.
"Do they really not bother you?" she asks, staring glumly down at her cumbersome claws.
To her relief, Gawain doesn't lie. (Not that he would.) "At first...your appearance took me by surprise. You seemed enraged, able to destroy Master in an instant." A gentle smile flows across his face like a spring brook. "But soon, I realized you were in pain. And what else could I do but attempt to ease that pain as best I could? I was sure if that agony were to be removed, a beautiful smile would emerge."
"...I see." Passionlip toys with her hair and continues to stare at her claws. "Um...have you seen it? The smile, that is?"
Gawain's laugh is warm and sweet. "Of course! There's no need to force it, either. Just be as you are."
That still seems difficult; even impossible. So many things about her can hurt others—even Gawain, who is stronger than anyone she's ever met. There's no guarantee he won't break apart in my hands... The very thought makes her heart ache.
"Lady Passionlip, if I may. You asked for a reward, did you not?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes," she murmurs, distracted. "But I don't really need one."
"I see. May I take your hand anyway?"
Unsure of what he wants, she awkwardly holds out a claw for him. His hand is as warm as his laugh as he takes hold of her claw and...bends down...?
"G-Gawain?"
"It's quite alright," he says, before brushing his lips delicately over a huge golden knuckle.
Light though it may be, the touch burns sweetly through her, awakening every nerve in her body all at once. A gasp explodes from her throat before she can stifle it, and she prays nobody noticed.
Gawain smiles against her claw before straightening back up as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Thank you."
She shakes her head, baffled. "I-I should be thanking you!"
It takes him a moment to understand, and when he does he nods in graceful acceptance. "Very well, dear Lady. How would you thank me?"
Just like the princesses in fairy tales, Passionlip steels herself to try her best.
“Um…well…like this, I think.” With all the gentleness she possesses, she reaches for him and wraps her arms around his back.
Despite his armor being in the way, she can still feel the warmth of his body, the reassuring constant of his heartbeat thrumming through his veins. Perhaps this is due to being blessed by the sun…or it’s her affection clouding her judgement again. Either way, she cherishes this unguarded tenderness.
But…why isn’t he saying anything?
“Um, Gawain?” She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction.
"...More intense than I anticipated. This could be a problem. My sword is...growing in strength...!" Is it her imagination, or is Gawain's breathing heavier than before?
“I’m not hurting you, am—eek!”
Before she can finish her sentence Gawain scoops her into his arms like a bride, cradling her close. “My apologies for being so bold, my Lady,” he says in the softest, tenderest voice she’s ever heard, “but I refuse to allow others to interrupt this moment between us. Shall I bring you to your room?”
It takes what feels like hours for his intentions to be made clear. They're beyond her wildest dreams, after all. But Sir Gawain always speaks the truth; he just says it delicately.
And this is a delicate, private matter indeed.
“My…? Oh, goodness!” Overwhelmed with the joy swelling in her heart, she covers her burning cheeks with a trembling claw. “Yes, please!” A delighted giggle bubbles forth. “Take me away, my prince…!”
…And that’s how the fair monster and Knight of the Sun began their happy days together.