Archive of Our Own

Artoria Pendragon remembers the day of her wedding. Guinevere, beautiful, blossoming Guinevere, a belle with her auburn hair and her blushed pink cheeks under the laced veil was a true sight to behold. She couldn't quite place the way her gut stirred with anxiety, anticipation, and yet with a jitter of longing for this girl that had grown beside her for all her life.

But in olden times, there was no appropriate name to such feelings. Such a relationship was frowned upon, even. And so, Guinevere turned away from her, a face full of tears on their wedding bed itself, and Artoria felt her heart breaking. For Guinevere. For herself. For this sham they had to put up in front of an entire country.

A lifetime and more later, Artoria - or ‘Saber’, as she is called in this life, finds herself caught in the shine of a silver maiden floating by her side.

The first time Kiritsugu proposes the two of them act as Servant and Master before others, Irisviel had gravitated towards her side with a laugh.

"It'll be just like we're fake dating in front of others!"

Saber tries not to let the irony of it strike her heart, offering her a bow.

But Irisviel reaches a hand out to hold Saber’s arm, her smile dazzling the room, and Saber can’t help but return her a small smile of her own.

One of the first things Irisviel does before they leave on an Airplane is to match their clothes to each other’s. Irisviel twirls around, the material of her dress flying around her legs. She even prods Kritsugu for a response, and he, in all his stoicness, simply replies,

"It’s elegant, and makes for easy movement,”

Irisviel giggles in joy at that. That’s wrong, Saber thinks, in awe of how Irisviel looks. He should have said something else, something else like —

“How do I look, Saber?”

“The white dress brings out your eyes,” she blurts out, her own thoughts tripping over themselves in panic. “Gold and red are exceptionally matching for a royalty such as yourself,”

It’s not what she meant to say, but the way Irisviel immediately smiles is good enough. “The King of Knights truly has a way with words!” she cheers, and Saber feels a little heat fanning her own cheeks.

Kiritsugu’s eyes immediately glances at Saber with a sharp animosity she isn’t familiar with.

You were a perfect gentleman, Saber.

I could only fight confidently because you were by my side. Words of reaffirmation bloomed and swelled between the two of them, Saber's eyes lingering far too long on hers, their gazes fixed on each other's faces, hands clasped together. She loved the warmth of Irisviel's mana resting behind her, giving her the support she needed. She loved the warmth of her hands as she reached out to hold hers. Just under the dark cloth of her glove, Irisviel's fingers were thin and slender.

The vast ocean paled in comparison against her silhouette. Something about the way the moonlight carved out the wisps of her white hair as she turned to her. Saber had to keep dragging her focus away from her face, as if she couldn't bear to look away.

"So, you and your Master," Alexander started the conversation absolutely casually while Irisviel guided them towards the gardens in the castle.

Saber quickly glanced to Alexander's master, wandering in the back; and then back to Irisviel, and then to Alexander. Alexander only grins at her wider.

"What of her?" Saber starts.

"I was just thinking... You look so taken with her. She really has you under her thumb, doesn't she? Nights in this castle together must be really exciting for you two, ain't it?"

Saber tilts her head, not understanding. "I am loyal to her, and she is an outstanding magus. What could you mean about the nights here?"

Alexander snorts, just shy of a grunt. "You're really going to make me say it out loud," The tall man leans in, his entire bulk far too large as he attempts to cover his mouth and whispers:

"Your master and you. I can see the way both of you are around each other. Both of you are lovers, right?"

Saber chokes and splutters so loudly, Irisviel and Waver both jump and take on fighting poses. Alexander throws his head back and guffaws, his booming laughter bouncing around the walls and burning her cheeks.

"Ahhhh, I see!" He exclaims, far too loudly for her liking. His mouth is shaped in an ‘o’, as if having received a revelation. "So it's still in bloom. I see, I see,"

Irisviel blinks blindly between the two of them, looking lost. "S-sorry...?"

Saber is thankful that he suddenly has some semblance of tact right now. "I mean the flowers outside your castle," Alexander gestures to the garden beyond the window. "They must be starting to bloom soon,"

"What the hell are you talking about," she can hear his master cuss behind their backs.

"Something beautiful," Alexander laughs towards him, slapping her back comically. She would choke on his sudden attacks if Irisviel wasn’t watching. Saber’s face is a full red while the magus tries to check in on her with her eyes. Blushing, she gives her a nod to reassure her.

"So beautiful,” he reinforces, and Saber has never wanted to Excali-his ass more than before.

Saber doesn’t allow herself to think about the implications of Alexander’s words. There were far more important things in the war, far larger things at stake.

Saber was but a passing spirit, anchored to the world by nothing but a man's cold, poisoned mana. The first time Irisviel healed in her the fight against Lancer, it felt like a firm, reassuring touch to her side. In the small wisps of magic from the Einzbern mage, she felt elegance, a trained hand. She longed for the fit of her magic to hers, but instead, Saber was coldly reminded of the steely cool of Kiritsugu's mana. As they fought and wrangled with a giant monster, it was Irisviel who watched her. And as she challenged Lancer, it was Irisviel by her side again.

(Focus, Saber, focus. You need only focus on winning the War. There is no particular point in feeling the light flutter of excitement from a certain ruby-eyed lady. This is not Guinevere, this is not an era where you need to have a Queen by your side. Much less a married woman, already fully in love with another man and already with child. Inappropriate to be so drawn to your master’s wife, no matter how much she makes you smile, no matter how right it feels to be by her side, comfortable, like the two of you fit together with your blue and red eyes. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Focus.)

“Saber,” Her voice calls out in the night.

Saber's eyes shift away from the moon as she hears the sound of the door sliding open. Turning her head, Saber spots the white figure of Irisviel stepping out with a tray of tea.

"Irisviel,” she calls back in reply, rising to her feet from the porch. Irisviel shakes her head with a smile as she lowers a teapot and two porcelain cups onto the floor beside her.

“It’s fine, Saber. I brought some tea,”

“At such an hour as this?”

“I want to stay up a little with you,” she gives this secret smile, and Saber reddens at having been caught.

“My apologies. Be reassured that I am still on watch, I simply came here to enjoy the Moon by this courtyard. It’s a unique architecture I’m unaccustomed to,”

Irisviel shakes her head as she sits down, dangling her legs off the wooden porch. Saber sinks back beside her while Irisviel lays out the tea set on the wood for them.

“Saber,” her voice asks as she elegantly pours two cups of tea out. “Are you alright?"

"I am fine. As a Noble Spirit, I don't need to sleep,” Saber replies.

"Saber," She repeats, putting the teapot down and addressing her with her eyes. "Are you okay with what happened today?”

What happened today… They had fought Caster’s massive form, and then…

"With Lancer. The both of you treated each other with a lot of respect and friendship. So what happened today with Lancer... I don't imagine that was easy for you."

There's a lump in her throat. Quickly swallowing it down, her eyes lower to watch the slow rise of steam from the teacup.

"We are in a war. Casualties are to be expected,”

It's what she says, but words die on her lips as memories of that night slowly come to her. Visions of blood and a painful, harrowed scream. Saber knew one thing for certain: It wasn’t the victorious defeat of a giant monster that she would remember from this night. It was the blood, pouring down his face. His cursed ringing in her ears.

“We are in a war,” Saber repeats slowly, gripping tightly the teacup. Irisviel watches her.

“But…?” She prompts.

“But that was unforgivable,” she whispers.

Clenching her hand around the hot tea, the burn of it fills her with waves of anger and guilt. If only she had been more aware of the kind of person Kiritsugu was, if only she has fought a little more determinedly to give Lancer a fitting end, if only she had stopped his arm from sinking the long pole into his chest —

“Saber,” Irisviel’s voice cuts through her thoughts. Her white fingers pry Saber’s hands from the cup, finger by finger. “The tea’s hot. You’ll hurt yourself,”

She loosens her grip on it, quietly taking a deep breath. As she sighs softly, Irisviel’s hand doesn’t leave hers. There’s a pause as her pale fingers dance over Saber’s fingertips, seemingly trying to soothe the burns from the hot tea.

“I’m sorry,” Irisviel says.

Saber shakes her head. “You have no reason to apologise. Kiritsugu acted without our knowledge, you couldn’t have possibly known-“

“But I do. I know him. I mean I’m -“ a motherly huff leaves her. “I’m angry too. Lancer was beyond honourable, and Kiritsugu was anything but,”

Her voice drops into something more serious. “But I knew he would do something like this at some point. That’s the kind of person he is, and… I love him too much,” she softly laughs, looking out to admire the moon in the open round of the courtyard. Saber follows her eyes there. “I believe in his vision of the future whole heartedly. And maybe it’s careless of me to not hold it against him for being so brutal. But the truth is: if it’s what he thinks was the right thing to do, then I don’t hate him for what he did,”

Her wine coloured eyes flicker back to her, uncertain. “And that’s what I’m want to apologise for. You are a far nobler person than I. Your heart must hurt,”

A wry smile finds its way to Saber’s lips. She thinks of Guinevere. She thinks of Lancelot, her failed kingdom, and the battlefield full of a thousand fallen lives. My heart has been hurting for a long, long time, she thinks.

“I cannot avert my eyes and pretend this has nothing to do with me,” Saber says firmly. “There is no part where a war is good, and every player in the game has a differing notions of how it should go. Some might say Kiritsugu’s method was efficient. I do not agree with it. I abhor it, even. But war is war. And so, Irisviel,” Saber looks sincerely into her eyes. “I do not hate you for being the person that you are. In times like this, with Kiritsugu’s harshness, I…”

I am thankful for your kindness. For your strength. If I uphold you and believe in you, then perhaps my heart feels stronger than it’s felt in the longest time.

Then perhaps the ache in my heart I've had since forever is soothed by your gentleness.

Saber stops her thoughts from slipping out of her lips. Irisviel is looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish her sentence. The words are on the tip of her tongue, and Saber pointedly swallows them down in favour of a far more neutral sentence.

"I am most grateful I have you to talk about this with," she says. "It means a lot to have you here."

The gentle smile on Irisviel's face could break her heart. As Irisviel slides her hand into hers, it strikes her how she so rarely gets to hold her hand without a glove. Her skin is soft. The warmth from her palm presses to hers, and Saber finds her heart beating loudly in her ears. When she looks at her, Saber watches the way the soft light from the moon fall upon her face, sculpting out the round of her cheeks, the dark of her ruby eyes, the full of her lips. Her hand is warm. Her hand is so, so warm, and Saber wants to pull it in to press her cheek into it, to press her mouth into a firm kiss at the base of her palm–

All too suddenly, Saber pulls her hand back to herself.

"Saber?" Irisviel asks, surprised.

"I," she says, not knowing how to continue, unable to think of any excuses. Her hands retreat back to cradle the still barely warm tea. "Thank you for the tea,"

A pause, as Irisviel crooks her head, studying her. She feels her own cheeks heating up, like she's been caught.

"Saber... Are you... Shy?"

"W-why would I be?" She tries to keep her voice as even as possible, but fails to hide the embarrassment in her voice.

"You're not wearing your gloves. Are you not used to... bare skin?"

Saber feels her entire face light up at the words. "It's nothing like that, I-" As much as she bristles, she is hopelessly unable to find any way out of this. Biting it down she finally thinks of the only way out, mumbling: "youhaveverysoftskin,"

"Ohhhhh?" Irisviel eyes her teasingly. "It's true your hands are calloused from holding your sword. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. You are very cool after all, King of Knights. You have nice hands."

Saber blushes, unable to keep up with her. "T-thank you. So do you,"

"Really?" She leans in, and Saber nervously sips her tea.

"They are. Expertly skilled, as a talented mage far surpassing many others that have come before,"

"And?"

"A-and, very small,"

Irisviel finally lets out a laugh, leaning backwards and releasing her.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just teasing you," she says, wiping a tear from her eye. "Seeing you react is a gift in itself for me,"

Saber huffs, miffed at this. "So you can be terribly mean when you want to be. I should be on guard against you too,"

"Ahh, don't get too angry. I can't lose my Knight over their embarrassment about holding hands,"

"Then," Saber warns. "Give me your hand,"

"Hmm?" Irisviel opens her palm towards her again. Huffily, Saber grips tightly onto her hand, this time interlacing their fingers and praying to god that she can't feel how nervous she is.

Irisviel merely smiles with this knowing look, and Saber tightens her grip. They stay that way for a long time, both watching the moon, and Saber, too nervous to even take a sip of her tea.

The next time Irisviel holds her hand, she finds out that she is dying.

When Irisviel tells her she can no longer sense touch, she doesn’t believe it. But when she holds onto a burning hot teapot that Saber had freshly made for them for far too long without any complaints, Saber finds herself sharply tearing the ceramic away from her hands, aghast at her lack of response. Without further explanation, she takes Irisviel’s burning hands and pulls her to the kitchen.

“Was that… wrong?” Irisviel asks, a little forlornly.

Saber pushes down the lump in her throat while she runs her pale fingers under the water. “Yes,”

“My my. I must have given you quite the fright,” the lady tries to joke. “I guess you’ll have to be my sense of touch as well, My kind knight,”

Saber doesn’t ask why she softly leans into her side if she can’t feel anything.

She doesn’t ask if she can feel her own fingers interlacing with hers as she attempts to soothe the burns with ice.

Saber finds it odd in the knowledge that both Irisviel von Einzbern and herself were created solely for the purpose of the Holy Grail War. Oftentimes, she could only share such a sentiment between herself and the other Servants. But with her white hair (that shone silver under the light) pale skin (by far the fairest maiden she had seen in all her life) and red eyes (rose, posies, the vitality of blood crudely pumped into a doll), Irisviel was, like most of the Servants, not quite human.

Except she had so much love to give. Except she was more human than most humans she met, her kindness and warmth and joy for life emanating from every move she made, from her eyes searching out new curiosities, from her grace. She was not a doll. She was even more human than Saber herself. She was most naturally, Irisviel.

She can't explain the twist of awful emotions she feels with the new knowledge that Irisviel has given. Back when she had the conversation with Gilgamesh and Alexander, Irisviel had told her afterwards that she wished for Saber to be able to fulfil her own dreams as well. Now, she realizes, Irisviel never included the detail that for her dream to come through, Irisviel would have to die.

And then, all of her gives way to the one realization:

Saber doesn’t want Irisviel to die.

The burning of it twists in her gut, stabs at her with a shock. She never meant to get this attached to her Master’s wife, but a certain part in her heart recognizes it for what it is. Pangs from far back in her youth, her own unrequited feelings with  Guinevere now resounding strongly as she looks at Irisviel.

God in heaven is so cruel, Saber thinks.

These are the last few days Saber catches Irisviel's smile. The hardest part of the war is supporting her in the morning as she hobbles through the Fuyuki house, hands reaching to grasp a doorknob, only met in place with Saber sliding open the door instead. Her figure, barely able to stand, only renewed once Saber reaches out to grasp her hand. (Saber gets used to holding her hand so often now once she realizes there's no longer the luxury of being embarrassed about it.)

Take my hand, hold tightly onto my arm, I wish to sleep in the same room to watch over your health, I have heard of this tonic known as red bull and it might help. Eating ginseng, I have noted, is good for longevity– peppered with laughter and teasing from Irisviel that got softer and softer as time went by. Her strength leaves her, and the only few things that remain are her will and her one desire to aid Kiritsugu.

"I am so useless," Irisviel barks out a bitter laugh one difficult morning when Saber walks in to find Irisviel struggling to tie the ribbon at her neck. Her hands are shaking uncontrollably, and Saber knows she's been at it for awhile since she left the room. Striding over, Saber takes the ribbons and loops it around, tying a neat bow as tears threaten to spill down Irisviel's cheeks. The magus closes her eyes and shakingly bites her lips. Saber quietly reaches out to wipe the drops of tears from her eyes. Quietly breathing, Saber holds one of her hands in hers and Irisviel takes it.

"Breathe with me," Saber mutters, slowly inhaling and exhaling. She senses Irisviel slowly sync their breaths together, the sniffling slowly fading into the quiet rise and fall of her chest. 

Finally, she opens her eyes. They are still glistening with tears, but she gives Saber this smile as she mutters, "Thank you. Sorry, I'm… I’m just so frustrated at myself recently,"

"Don't be," Saber says. "You are carrying an incredible duty,"

She lowers her head into Saber's shoulder. "It's the only thing I was made to do,"

She shakes her head. "You've already done so much even before your death. You are strong, Irisviel," she whispers, and Irisviel pulls herself closer to her. She lets out a sigh into her neck, sending butterflies stirring in Saber's stomach.

"I am most grateful," Irisviel says, echoing Saber's words from before. "It means a lot to have you here."

Her heart is melting. There is no longer the luxury of being embarrassed, Saber thinks, and tentatively wraps an arm around her back. Thankfully, Irisviel sinks into her. Her own hands grasp onto Saber's collar, pulling her close. The cool of the morning air floats around them as their hearts sway together. With both of them holding onto each other, they stay that way, letting the morning pass them by.

“I will be giving it to Kiritsugu,”

“I don’t allow it,”

Her voice comes out sharp and angry. The two of them were holding hands across the low table while they were having breakfast. But now, Saber withdraws, pulling her hand back to herself.

In another life, perhaps Saber might be content with no longer striving for the most noblest cause. Perhaps she would just be happy with being selfish and living with someone she loved, far away from all notions of war. Maybe, maybe, she might even grow up by a cottage in a field, tend to livestock, and the only thing she would have to battle are mere mindless wolves on the edge of her territory. She remembers that one way to fight a wolf in an emergency was to sacrifice your forearm. Allow its teeth to sink into your forearm and punching it in the throat and oesophagus repeatedly. Similar to a Lion, engage it's mouth with a body part of yours and strike straight and true for it's eyes and snout.

Saber would kill to just fight off lions and wolves, but in this life, all Saber does is hear the echo of death in Irisviel's voice as she says, "please, Saber."

And suddenly Saber can't be here. She stands up, walking angrily to the open aired kitchen as there's a searing heat behind her eyes. Gripping the countertop, she faces away from Irisviel as a clench of grief squeezes her chest.

Irisviel is going to die, the thought rings in her head, and it's too much. Sinking to her knees, Saber pretends to be searching for plates in the cabinet as the hot tears run down her cheeks. That someone so strong, so kind, so Irisviel deserved more than whatever this life was giving her. How unfair it was for the world to take her and squeeze the life out of her just for a miserable War. Saber hates the porcelain plate she holds in her trembling hands, far too beautiful and perfect. She hates how beautiful this morning is, the Sun filtering into the room with dust motes dancing in utter mockery of the stupid War.

"Saber,"

She blinks when she hears the sound of footsteps dragging themselves over to her. The sounds of her laboured breathing as she crosses into the kitchen. Saber wipes her face as quickly as she can, but to no avail.

Irisviel hugs her from behind, pressing her face into her hair.

"Is my knight crying for me?" her voice teases.

"Sorry," Saber says, voice trembling, "I did not mean for you to see me like this."

"You are so kind, Saber,"

She shakes her head. "I am not. I am far from kind,"

"You are crying for me," her kind voice continues, arms wrapping tighter around her, even dipping in to kiss the curve of her shoulder. "When no one else is."

"Kiritsugu will,"

"That handsome man better," she laughs, and it feels like poison to Saber.

"I am not kind. I simply..." Saber chokes. "Do not want you to leave my side... For completely selfish reasons that are wrong of me to even think about," She finally admits.

The weight of the silence is heavy, but it's the most honest Saber has felt in the past few days. Irisviel's hug loosens, and Saber feels her heart sinking. It was a mistake. This is a mistake. This is -

"Saber," Irisviel says, kneeling beside her. Her pale hands slowly reaches over to take the white plate in Saber's hands, dotted with tears from herself. Irisviel takes it from her, and places it one side. Then, her hands find Saber's, and another one finds her face, gently wiping the tears away. Finally, Irisviel tilts her chin up to look at her.

Irisviel has a beautiful, sad smile. The rubies of her eyes are wet, as if she'd been crying too.

"In your white dress," Saber croaks out. "You looked so beautiful. And Kiritsugu is a fool to not say it more often,"

Irisviel laughs, and then she kisses her.

She kisses her so gently, she almost thinks she imagines it. The soft, fluttering of her lips pressed to hers, barely touching, her heart lightly beating in her throat. At first she wants to lean it, but her own mind feels light and dizzy as Irisviel parts to catch her breath. Saber watches her, with her own glazed over eyes as if she wanted this the same way Saber has wanted this for a long, long time. She licks her lips, shivering. Okay then.

Saber cups her cheek and presses in with a searing kiss, no longer letting guilt or fear hold her back. Irisviel opens for her, letting her press in as much as she wants to. Everything fades into her, her scent, her taste, all deathly familiar and new as Irisviel's arms wrap around her neck, pulling both their chests closer, as close as they can get in every way that matters. Finally, they pull apart, both of their eyes still fixated on each other.

"I don't want you to die," Saber says.

"I don't want to die either, but you have to let me go," Irisviel replies, her voice amazingly steady. "I have known that this would happen for all my life. I am prepared for it,"

"That does not make it any less worse," she protests.

"No, but you have made these days so much better than I thought it would be," Irisviel says, smiling. "I am so happy to have met you,"

Later, Saber realizes, on Kiritsugu's command, she is forced to slice Irisviel's vessel in half, destroying all chances of their winnings in the war. As the accursed Holy Grail War ends and Saber closes her eyes and bides her time on an empty battlefield, she only focuses on the last memory of Irisviel. And just like that, Artoria Pendragon finds herself all alone again.