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There was a sting in the air, a cold like no other. It crept between the sheets like the body of a forgotten corpse. A haunting, iced fiend. Its deathly temperatures seep into the bone through exposed skin. The chill was soaking, and he couldn’t shake it.
The sudden declivity of warmth stirred Emiya from out a fitful sleep. The archer sought to fight off the rousing, first. Yanking at his sheets and covers, trying as he might to draw them closer to his chin. Pressing them tighter to his body to interrupt the nasty bouts of shivers that rattled his back teeth together, Emiya groaned pathetically and curled deeper into himself, seeking any remaining source of heat. There was none. The chill had become rabid, like a dog – locking its artic jaws into flesh and fabric, causing all forms of natural warmth to gush out of punctures wounds made by too-sharp fangs, and flee into the frigid openness of Emiya’s room. It was a massacre upon all that was balmy and good.
Maybe, the archer thought, he should stop with his stubbornness and get up. There was a radiator in the very corner of his room, something his Master, the one they had stopped the spotted device, had commented on the absurdity of possessing such an outdated, almost ancient heating system. Emiya was one of few that could say that they understood this era, and the technology that came with it, far greater and without the assistance of the summoning than many of the other servants. However, at that moment, a strangeness had overcome him. The archer had suddenly felt very old, and almost primeval against his Master’s familiarity with that heating mechanics of Chaldea. Which was ridiculous considering the archer grew up in the 1990s for god’s sake. But the Master was yet to be advised on how…Young the Counter Gaudian was compared to that of the average servant.
No matter, if it could be helped, Emiya was willing to take that secret with him to a second grave.
For a moment, the servant struggled with himself – to abandon what little heat he had spent conducting under the sheets in his sleep, and start the radiator? or burrow deeper into the bed, essentially paying no heed to the death chill in the air, more in favour of a handful of extra minutes asleep?
The decision was stripped from Emiya, however. The hollowing knocks of nervous knuckles against his front door compelled the archer to forsake any chance of returning to a deep slumber. He regrated it immediately, of course. Once Emiya had detangled himself from the sheets and lifted the covers, the true malevolence of the cold sliced into the exposed skin of his arms. Emiya hissed and cursed himself for not wearing a longer sleeved shirt to bed. Before answering whoever was feverishly pounding at his door, the archer made a grab for a jumper. Much like his pyjama pants, the sweater was thick, grey, and a little loose on his lean frame. Maybe the swell of Emiya’s arms caused a snug pinch here or there, but nonetheless, it was a comfortable fit and an extremely needed one at that. It fared against the chill much better than simply bare skin.
Shuffling to the door, Emiya was surprised to just who rattled about on the other side.
“Emiya!” His Master sobbed, swathed in a thick blanket that dragged behind them. Romani was by his Master’s side, and shockingly so was the King of Knights. Each respectfully draped in the warmest of bedwear and coats, Saber even sporting a rather fluffy pair of lion-themed slippers.
Light filtered into the archer’s room, and Emiya could spy the wispy clouds of white from his breath. The iciness beyond his walls was unimaginably worse. “What’s going on? Why is everything so damn cold?”
Romani spoke first, his nasal voice told of a terribly stuffy nose, “excess usage of Chaldea’s heating system due to staff and servant growth, and the recent and extreme drop in artic climate, it ha-has resulted in the system blowing a fuse somewhere. It’s-it’s completely down. Our technicians are currently trying to solve the problem but that could take hours.”
The doctor punctuated his sentence with a sneeze before doing his best to continue.
“We can’t go on like in nearly subzero temperatures. We need to set up refuges where Chaldean members can seek warmth for the harsh hours ahead of us.”
Emiya nodded in agreement. “Understood. We’ll need a substitute heating source and small areas to gather and contain warmth. Servants should be directed to the briefing room – compared to Chaldean staff, we are drastically few in numbers. The room will do us fine. The staff…”
“The staff?” The Master questioned.
“The cafeteria could work,” Archer said, his brow knotted while he conjured possible locations that could perform the task better. “However, it might be a tight squeeze; we do have a large research department. But other spaces pose a safety issue if open fires decide to be our new heat source.”
Romani, even while slightly sick and possibly half frozen, grinned cheekily up at the Counter Guardian. “Actually, Emiya – while scouting for thermal blankets and gear the medical mean came across a rather interesting fin-find. An interesting, yet currently inoperative find, then again. An outdated device due to n-natural retirement and wear and tear. But the young Master Fujimaru and Saber both agreed that if anyone knew how to get them up and running, it was you.”
“And what would these outdated devices be, exactly?”
With chatting teeth and a little too much zest, Emiya’s swaddled Master replied.
“The gadiator, of course!”
Emiya’s eye twitched, “you mean the radiator, Master. Ray-diator. And I would hardly call it outdated.”
The Master groaned childishly, “yes, yes – whatever you say, Archer. But that’s not the point. The point is, we found the radiator thingies, but they aren’t functional. But then I remembered you had one, a very much working one, in your room. And Saber even peeped up saying that you were basically an expert at fixing them. And I thought, O, of course, my wonderful, and most favoured, talented, brilliant Archer knows how to do that. So, we would really, really appreciate it, Archer, if you repaired the ones we found. Please? Before we all freeze to death?”
Saber shied away guiltily while Emiya pinched the bridge of his nose. “Master, I am your only archer.”
His Master simply smiled up at him. Due to the instinctual need to escape from the cold, cocooned the very end of the woolly blanket around their face so that only large doe eyes and that Cheshire leer could be seen.
“…Fine.” Archer signed. It was hard to deny his Master when that smile took hold.
“Thank god,” the Master moaned. All too soon their cheeky spirit waned and a more authorial attitude took over. Fujimaru directed the doctor to handle relaying the information to all Chaldean staff while ordering Saber to take Archer to the east wing of the facility where the Lancer servants were transporting the radiators for mending. Fujimaru themself declared that they would rejoin Mash and De Vinci to round up the rest of the servants.
Archer and Saber made haste to Chaldea’s welding room, both zealous to put an end to the almost eternal cold that had swept the building completely. They spoke very little on their walk. Mostly due to Emiya giving the King of Knights his very best cold shoulder at her betrayal. There was an unspoken agreement between the two that any detail of his past would not be subjected to public knowledge. No servant or employee would know the Heroic Spirit as anything but the Nameless servant in red, or his servant class, The archer, or simply by Emiya – a name with no meaning or historic importance. The only possible individual who could not be incorporated into this ploy of his would be their Master. But that would be more due to a servant-master technicality than anything else. Just as any contract shared between a servant and their master, the mana that bridges the two together caused a rather adverse epidemic. The kind that revealed a servant’s life through the dreams of their master.
However, the Master was yet to question Emiya about his past life, or for that matter, his unconventional afterlife.
And yes, maybe shunning Artoria for reviling even the slightest of information about his former life was a tad ridiculous, but Emiya was rather firm about his rules. His was allowed to be.
Upon entering the welding room, Emiya spied a long line of portable radiators. Even from the doorway, he could see the sheen of dust that coated them. Other than that, and maybe a few rat chewed cords, Emiya didn’t perceive anything initially wrong with the heaters. The possible issue could be the amount that needed tending to.
“Yo.” Cú Chulainn greeted from instead. It seemed even the son of a mighty sun god could hold his own against the artic cold that swallowed them. The child of light was layered up in all sorts of sweaters and coats, all oversized and trimmed with fur. “You finally made it, red. What took your sorry ass so long?”
“Careful, Lancer. Almost sounds like you missed me.”
“Piss off, you bastard. I’m practically freezing my nuts off here and you’re taking your sweet old time on a stroll.”
“Good.” Emiya spat. “It’s about time a temperamental dog like you got the snip.”
Emiya was sure Cú was going to bark back something just as distasteful when Romulus interrupted their welcoming ritual with far too much enthusiasm considering the situation. For once, the Roman legend actually wore clothes.
“Greetings to you, Archer,” Romulus said, his voice booming as always. Emiya could help but wince as the lancer all but threw the last of the heaters alongside the rest. Maybe there was more to worry about when it came to the state of the appliances. “A man miracle, you are. To restore the passion of Rome back into the walls of Chaldea. May the great Vulcan bless you with his strength for such a task.”
Emiya forced a smile. “I’m merely doing what our Master commands. Nothing less.”
Cú rolled his eyes, “how humble of you.”
“That’s enough, Cú Chulainn.” Saber piped up from the doorway. “The Master has ordered the remaining servants to help with gathering supplies for the night ahead. We are needed elsewhere. You may bother Archer when it is time to run the radiators to their necessary locations. Romulus, you too.”
The blonde beckoned the two lancers with her hand before turning to the archer with a kind smile, “either lancers or I will come to check up on you, soon. Do your best, Archer.”
Guilt rushed Emiya, and shame warmed his cheeks; luckily, he could blame the drop in temperature for the blush. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so petty beforehand. Saber, like any rational person, was just trying her best to resolve the issue they faced.
“I will. Thank you, Saber.”
She nodded at him; her smile still warm, still bright.
The odd trio departed, and Emiya felt a tired, painted breath leave with them. It was time to get to work.
Naturally, he started at the very beginning the of line. Emiya rubbed the face of the appliance, trying his best to rid it of its duty second skin. He frowned fiercely, stealing his hand back. The metal was painful to touch, the cold deducting along its brass body masticated the hypersensitive ends of Emiya’s fingers. Tracing would burn like dry ice. That much he was sure of.
Although, if the servant endured the kiss of glacial steel just once, he could have the radiator’s faults sorted in no time. Ergo, Emiya would have access to a much-craved heat source, one that could chase the nasty chill from out the old bones of its brethren and deliver the asylum he needed to labour through the rest of them. Except …The mere thought of being the only one allowed such bliss was grim. There were others in need of it much, much more than the Counter Guardians. Others with warm, lively and young blood pumping through their dangerously slow, sleepy bodies. Others whose lives were at stake, rather than their comfort.
No. Absolutely not. Emiya would not be so selfish, so venal, as to horde the first and only functional heater while others unknowingly welcomed an everlasting sleep by the arms of a deathly chill.
Maybe the 10th or so radiator he could claim as his own. But for now? He was far from even entertaining that desire.
Emiya placed his hand back onto the belly of the appliance.
“Trace. On.”
Bursts of cool flames sparked behind his eyes. In its wake, scorched a 3D model of the radiator’s interior blueprinted itself within his mind. It did not take much for Emiya’s projection craft to lead him to the appliance’s faulty property. A bent fin had caused the part to rupture and bend the metal inwards, preventing a healthy airflow from reaching the coolant. The issue, and fix, were simple enough. The archer only hoped the other radiators were similar in nature. Logically, however, Emiya understood that out of the twenty-so heaters that were found, only just a little over half would be operational. The others were likely missing key parts that neither could be found in Chaldea nor known by Emiya, meaning he could not project the misplaced element. Another possibility that could come into play and dwindle their numbers, even more, was the fact that he may need to strip a few radiators down for parts. His only saving grace was the fact that the Master was wise enough to instruct the lancers to settle the heaters in the wielding room. Meaning, whatever tools or common parts were needed could most likely be found where Emiya currently sat.
He went to work.
Emiya worked until his lip blued and his hands numbed. He worked until at least three radiators were functioning and one was completely stripped down to help complete the third. He worked until the room swelled with the soft rattling of his back teeth and the sharp clangs of metal brushing metal. Emiya worked until the world decomposed around him, the cold aiding the slow spill of time within Chaldea. Like the air, like himself, everything froze. Time did not go forth. For a stolen minute, the servant thought the labour was never-ending, never complete. There would be no 10th radiator of his to keep. Emiya would not be able to make it to the 10th. Not with how little he could feel in his hands and how lethargic he grew with each eternal creep of the hour. Despite the aching chill, the need to sleep had eclipsed upon Emiya. Rationally, the archer knew it to be one of the first signs of hypothermia.
Emiya cupped his tender hands and blew a wraithlike breath into them. That, too, was like rime. Even the very core of his body was struggling to retain heat. Emiya let his eyes drift shut for a moment, he breathed into his hands again and dug into the grave that was his resting resolve and ripped the corpse that it was from the dirt. As deathly cold, as he was, others were relying on him. Emiya simply could not give up.
The blunt bone of knuckles bashed into the back of his head, and Emiya, less hurt and more taken aback, let out a snappy “hey!”.
“You look pathetic.”
Emiya leaned backwards, his head tipped to the heavens and eyes wide. Jalter’s tempestuous, long hair spilled over her shoulders and curtained the archer’s vision wholly. It was as if he had been blinded by god’s favoured angel. He could only see her – and only her in the nothingness that was white. It was a blessed sight. Emiya had been tormented by the panorama of dull, lifeless machines for eons now. To be visited by an angel, one with eyes and a smile that gleamed like a knife, was hallowing.
“Jalter…” Emiya breathed, finding himself speechless. He honestly thought the blue lancer had grown tired of waiting in the cold and sort to beat him into hurrying up with finishing the heaters.
The Saint seemed to consider him for a moment, drinking in all that was the archer. Her knuckles continued to dig into Emiya’s skull, yet it was a painless act, one more akin to that of a kneading cat. Her fiendish eyes fell upon his crown, trailing to the thick hair that swept his forehead, down to the bridge of his nose. Then to the flush of his cheeks and finally, the low of his discoloured lips. They stalked their way back up shortly, until the steel of Emiya’s melted with the gilt of hers.
“Your lips are blue. What are you? One of those fish on ice at the markets?” When Emiya did not fire back a witty remark, the Saint grew mean. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll knock you around some more.”
Emiya couldn’t really focus on Jalter’s nasty mouth, his attention was utterly abducted by the heat that seemed to seep out from the servant. With Jalter so close, her white breath thawing the frost from off his cheeks, and the back of her knuckles working through his hair, the heat of her was something Emiya would not refuse himself to bathe in. Maybe in his right sense of mind, the Counter Guardian would question, if not heavily scold, the other servant for only being clothed in a tight tank top and very, very short pyjama pants. Especially with such temperatures. Right now, however? While he fought off the high possibility of hypothermia, all Emiya wanted to do was curl up closer to Jalter.
“Aren’t you cold?” Was all the archer could muster.
Jalter leaned back, taking her warmth with her. “Unlike you frail servants, a little chill could never quell the fierceness of my flames.” She said, greatly offended. To the point where she flung out a closed fist to smack him again. It, unlike her temper, contained little ignition.
Emiya caught the sloppy punch and took to studying the hand, as well as the heat that bled from her skin. Maybe she was more dragon-like than he thought. “I see…Is there a reason why you are here and not with the other servants in the briefing room?”
Jalter, surprisingly enough, did not struggle in the Counter Guardian’s hold.
“That bitch master of yours was trying to make a slave out of me.”
Emiya frowned, “oi, watch your mouth. The Master is doing their best to make sure this situation is under control for everyone’s sake. Even yours, Jalter.”
“O, so having you work like a dog without any sort of protection from this apparent, murderous cold is what your master thinks is best?” There was a high degree of mockery in her tone, and the look the Little Dragon shot him was seedy to say at most.
The archer tore his gaze away, equally withdrawing his hold on the Witch too, to continue his labour.
“Sometimes…” Emiya began, his words but low, spent tidings. “The few must be sacrificed for the sake of prosperity for the many. The master is young. With more victories than losses behind them. They are yet to grasp this cruel concept. And I wish not to be the one to teach them.”
“So, what?” Jalter snapped, and Emiya could hear her puff out a bitter breath. “You’re just going to freeze your ass off to shelter your master from the veracities of war? Why offer yourself as the sacrificial lamb when it is their duty as Master to endure that burden…Where is the logic in that? The rectitude?”
“There is no logic behind it. I just don’t want to see anyone cry.”
She paused for a moment. “You’re an idiot.”
“I am.” There was a poignant smile on the Hero of Justice’s lips. “But I am so a fairly busy idiot at the moment. So, if the great Holy Maiden, Jeanne d’Arc, could tantrum elsewhere and leave me to focus on my appointed task, that would be deeply appreciated.”
Emiya wasn’t facing the avenger, so it came as a great shock when something warm and weighted was gracelessly tossed over his head. Everything was dark and smelt of cinder, and when Emiya went to protest and tear the heavy fabric off himself, he was stilled by an ominous, throaty growl. Only to be followed by small, spry hands that went to adjusting the cloth until the archer’s head poked out of the neckline and he could breathe again.
“What the hell!”
“Shut up.”
Begrudgingly, Emiya accepted Jalter’s rather odd assault and took to examining the material draping him. It was as black as the ruins of a burnt city and heavy as a child’s coffin. But it was trimmed with the softest of furs around the collar, and the cinder smell hinted a gentleness like that of smoked rosemary. And dear god, was it warm. It was like bathing in the highest of heavens. One so close to the sun everything turned golden and a cooky, sweet brown. It took an embarrassingly long moment for the heroic spirit to realize that Jalter had swaddled him in her cloak.
Jalter somehow squeezed her way in front of him and took to kneeling while she smoothed the pelt around his neck. When she spoke, her voice was but a small thing. Awfully tender, and far too understanding.
“We are both idiots,” Jalter said. Emiya held his breath every time the ends of her knuckles would brush against his red cheeks. “Idiots who are too acquainted with the duties of the lamb. When will the self-appointed purgatory end? Must we also hand over the peace sworn to us in our afterlives? Tell me. When will the Lord come and beg for our forgiveness?”
Jalter was so, so close. So warm. So supple. With her kind hands, gentle tone, and sombre eyes. Emiya soaked in it; he couldn’t help himself. How long had it been since someone had wrapped him like a gift, and whispered tender words to him? Since someone had swept the hair out of his face and rubbed the chill from out his cheeks with warm thumbs? Like mercury, Emiya melted into Jalter’s burning touch.
“You look more boyish with your hair down. More soft, more simple. More naïve.”
Emiya huffed and let the smallest of smiles play his lips. “Must you always ruin a good moment between us by insulting me?”
“Do not be so easy to insult next time and I won’t see a need to.”
“I’ll try my best.”
Before long, Jalter had kittened her way under the cloak too and tucked herself firmly into Emiya’s side. They curled up together. Spoiled by the heat beckoned by their entanglement. Neither wanted to leave, too content with the other’s touch. Jalter rested her head upon Emiya’s shoulder while the archer buried his face into her wild hair, with low eyes and a breath even. Limbs knotted and tied together while hands ventured and dared. There was something rather possessive about the Saint’s hold on him. Her face pressed against his neck, her closed mouth framing the lively pulse in his throat. Jalter mouthed at it sometimes. Pressed a smile, and sometimes a little bit of teeth into it. Emiya thought she must enjoy the way it quickened at her teasing threat. Nails that were far too claw-like feathered just above the muscles of his stomach while her other hand hooked under his arm. Emiya wasn’t innocent either, however. While far less covetous, the archer had used the last of his free limbs left to pull the Dragon Witch into his lap and slip a devious hand between her closed thighs. Jalter made for a great personal heater. Emiya could basically feel his body thwarting out with every second he spent wrapped up in her.
“I really do need to get back to work, you know…” Emiya mumbled.
But Jalter showed no sign of stirring from her perch, rather content on being an obdurate nuisance in his lap. Emiya saw it as her not caring for the issue at hand, nor what he had to do and reluctantly unhooked an arm from Jalter to continue with his repairs. The only time she troubled herself in moving from the archer’s warmth was when Emiya became far too physical with on radiator. He rocked her out of a light slumber with his rough handling of it, causing the Saint to gnaw at his shoulder at the disruption. The Dragon Witch delivered a quick yet painful nip to whatever skin she could find. Jalter even had the audacity to growl at the archer when he chided her in return.
“I can’t help it. A few more and I am done.” Archer hissed. “Be patient for god’s sake.”
“Bastard.” Jalter bit back. “You are taking too long. Fuck the rest and be done with it. You have done enough.”
“Don’t be so damn pushy. Our Master needs at least two more.”
“No, you need at least two more to meet your standards. That airheaded master of yours can survive with the eleven heaters you mended already.” Jalter argued back.
There was truth in the words the Holy Maidan had spoken, and Emiya felt himself deflate. He did set an expectation for himself. One that could be considered unreasonable…Okay, one that was considered unreasonable due to the current crisis Chaldea found itself in.
“Just one more. I promise.” The Counter Guardian said, smoothing the avenger’s temper by cupping her jaw and rubbing a thumb over her cheek. It was something she had done to settle him just a few moments beforehand. It had worked wonders for him and seemed to also ease Jalter back into a wispy state. The Saint made a content sound and curled back into Emiya’s arms until only the very top of her wild mane was visible from the cloak.
“I hate the cold,” Jalter muttered sleepily after a beat or two. Emiya had only just found the wiring issue with the last radiator when she spoke. “I’m far too accustomed to burning flames than that of the blazing ice.”
Emiya huffed out a bittersweet laugh and reached for some electrical tape. “I can understand that. Being reborn from fire…It changes a person. In more ways than one. You ache to burn. You cannot help it.”
Jalter lazily pried open one eye. The pale gold that dripped from her gaze spied him with knowing, with kinship. She lowered her lids and stared at his working hands.
“You know too much to be someone nameless.”
Emiya stilled, carefully side-eyeing the Saint in his lap. “As I said. Fire can change a person. But it doesn’t make them any more or less significant. You can be a mediocrity and still burn.”
Jalter seemed rather dissatisfied with the archer’s reply, yet she voiced her annoyance very little.
“It is late. I wish not to be lied to at this hour. My own flames are quelled for the night. I cannot torch you alive for such transgressions.”
The Heroic Spirit rolled his eyes and did not dignify such her response with his own. Emiya was quick to finish off the last of the radiators, making eleven in total that could be used for tonight and the following day. Four heaters would be enough for the servants while the rest would do the staff of Chaldea well. Additional blankets and a hot meal would be beneficial for the comfort of all Chaldeans, too. But that was something the archer could work on in the morning. As for now, it was 2AM. And Emiya was sick of braving this cold.
“I’ll have to call that pain in the ass to come and transport the heaters.” The Counter Gaudian muttered to himself. He tugged tighter in the cloak around him, trying his best to seal in the lasting heat between him and the Saint. Gradually, over the last twenty minutes or so, the heat exuding from Jalter and her cloak had snuffed. The cold was starting to creep in again. The Little Dragon must be out of mana. Using whatever little the Master had permitted her to begin with to keep them both snug and warm while he worked to solve Chaldea’s heating issue.
“Jalter.” Emiya hushed, shaking the dragon in his lap slightly for her to wake. She dozed off so easily. “Jalter – Jeanne, come on. Wake up. We need to get up.”
She ignored him. And instead, chose to cling tighter to his shirt, seeking heat.
Emiya contemplated the situation at hand for a moment. He bit his lip when a certain thought stole his attention. “…Jeanne. I have a heater in my room. One I found a while back. It’s good for nights like these. If you wake up, you can have my room until the heating system is sorted.”
Her eyes slip open and low at his offer as she whispered. “Take me.”
Emiya couldn’t help the small, nervous smile that found its way onto his face. A lump grew in his throat at her words. He struggled to reply. “Come on, then. Time to wake up.”
It took them a few moments to detangle. And both servants winced when they finally came apart, the cold being whip quick to sink its teeth back into them. Without their shared body heat and Jalter’s mana sourcing her Saintly flames, the chill that had seized Chaldea whole had all but retaliated for them escaping for the briefest time.
Emiya undressed from the cloak only to drape the barely standing girl in both the cloth and what little warmth remained from their time under it. Jalter stumbled a bit at first, and Emiya did not know whether that was due to the lack of mama she currently had, or if her limbs had gone numb from little use and negative temperatures. The archer slipped an arm around her waist and gently steered her out of the Welding Room and to his own personal chambers. It didn’t take long. Neither wished to stay out any longer in the cold; even in her half-asleep state, Jalter knew this and kept her steps even and fast-paced.
Emiya almost forgot how terribly bitter the inside of his room was. Nearly as frostbitten as the rest of Chaldea. Jalter detached herself from the archer and sort her own way to his bed. Emiya chose to ignore how Jalter crawled her way up his unusually muddled bedstead and slipped between the sheets. Instead, the archer fixated on starting the radiator. It wouldn’t take long for it to start bleeding heat into his deathly frigid room. Emiya then, for good measure, rummaged through his closet for extra bedding. Anything that was thick and would retain heat. After securing an old wool blanket, he draped Jalter in a second layer. The Little Dragon was well hidden under the sheets with only the crown of her head peeking out.
While fixing the bed and tucking in the corners of the sheets to trap the heat, Emiya promised Jalter that the room would warm soon, and in the meantime, he would be helping their Master situate the radiators around Chaldea. She scuffed a remark, only it was muffled by the blanket. Emiya made out the words dog and slave and thought it best not to ask the Saint to repeat herself.
Quietly, so as to not to further disturb the girl in his bed, Emiya slipped out of the room. His back faced the hallways while he tried his hardest to shut the door with little to no noise. It made Saber sneaking up on him all the more startling.
“Saber,” Emiya quipped, blinking twice to make sure the King of Knights was truly by his side. “What are you doing here? Is the Master okay?”
“I grew worried when Lancer told me you were missing from the Wielding room,” Artoria said calmly. Yet her eyes kept warily drifting to the ajar door. “Are you with someone? I thought I heard voices.”
“…No. Just me.” Emiya lied with a smile. Only, he didn’t know why exactly why he was lying. “I was seeing if my own radiator could spare the missing part I needed to possibly recover a 12th heater for the Master. No luck, however. Different models.”
Saber nodded slowly, but her low eyes took their time leaving the door to address the man before her.
“I see.” She said quietly. “Are you able to assist the lancers and the Master function the radiators? Cú Chulainn claims that he is slowly turning to ice and cannot move his fingers or they will fall off. And our Master is…Well, as you know. Our Master is very unfamiliar with technology outside of their generation. These temperatures have made our very best utterly hopeless and we need you dearly Emiya.”
“Lancer has always been hopeless.”
“Emiya.” Artoria tutted.
“Fine, fine. I’m coming.” Emiya signed and gestured for the saber to lead the way.
The King of Knights gave kind eyes back at him before taking his offer. Saber continued to talk as they inched further away from the door and the archer nodded along with her, adding in a witty remark or two whenever a reply was sort after.
When Artoria became lost in retelling a story, however, Emiya couldn’t help but steal a glance over his shoulders at the door he was dolefully walking away from. For behind it lied a girl whose smile sometimes gleamed like a knife. A smile that lured and mouthed words that had cut deep within his heart.
Take me.
Not a lick of question in her tone. The trust she had in him was apparent and clear, even if Jalter herself wouldn’t acknowledge it directly. Emiya felt his mouth dry. Suddenly, the desire to forsake his Master’s wishes, and abandon Saber where she stood devoured his thoughts. And nearly his will.
Emiya nearly ached to return to his room, to the girl that lied beneath his sheets…The archer didn’t know what he would do if he submitted to such yearnings. Maybe sit in the dark and soak in the heat and the sight of her. Drink it all up and get drunk, get dizzy from a mere glimpse of Jalter in his bed; warm and comfortable, settled and safe.
Emiya never thought that being understood by another would be something so intoxicating, yet so heartbreaking too. It was a relief and a horror.