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On a night where the wind carried on it the scent of fall, of fallen leaves and the chill of the coming winter, Irisviel and Saber stayed behind in the Einzbern mansion when Kiritsugu and Maiya went out to gather more information. It had been a busy week, and everyone was on edge. After the announcement that every Master-Servant pair needed to target Caster, Caster had shown up on the Einzbern estate, and on top of that, Kirei had attacked while Lancer’s Master had gone straight for Kiritsugu… To put it lightly, it was a lot.
So tonight, as Saber accompanied her like a professional escort in her suit, holding a candle through halls of polished wood gouged with splintering marks from Kiritsugu and Lord El-Melloi’s fight, Irisviel made her way to Kiritsugu’s liquor cabinet. Luckily, it was only the first three floors that had suffered damage, so on the top floor, the study Kiritsugu used for strategy meetings and in which he kept his liquor was untouched. As she eased the door open, she waved away the lingering smell of tobacco smoke. The wavering light of Saber’s candle lit her from the back, casting a long but faint shadow into the room.
“I had not expected Kiritsugu to keep his liquor in the same room he keeps so many weapons,” Saber said in an amused tone, stepping in after Irisviel.
Irisviel shrugged, taking stock of the study. On the desk across from the door, a pile of papers were scattered, weighed down by random implements and weapons; a large tactical knife, a full magazine for a pistol, and an empty one.
“If you think this is his weapons stockpile,” she said, sweeping her hand towards the corner of the room where several boxes of guns lay, “you’d be mistaken. He would never put his most powerful weapons where anyone else could find them.”
Saber shook her head with a smile. “And does he also hide his liquor? I do not see where you intend to procure drinks from.”
Irisviel went to the bookshelf that covered the entire left wall, leading up to the window. It was filled with books from top to bottom. About half of them were real, but a quarter were written in code; they were various reports about the participants of the Holy Grail War, as well as other prominent mage families, and Kiritsugu had compiled the information over six months of preparation before the War began.
The last quarter of books, however, concealed hiding spots, carved out from the wood behind. Irisviel pulled out a few books and revealed a veritable stash of wines, whiskeys, rum, and all kinds of other alcoholic drinks.
“So,” she said triumphantly, plunking down bottles onto the paper-strewn table, “what would you like to drink, Saber?”
Saber set down the candle holder on the edge of the table and perused the alcohol bottles, picking them up one by one and reading the labels.
“This age’s variety of food and drink always surprises me,” Saber said. “In Camelot, we had beer, wine, and mead. But this? ‘Orange-flavored vodka,’” she read from the bottle. “‘Smoked whiskey.’ We may have cooked our wine with spices, but I understand that this era has been able to extract flavors from all sorts of things and put them in their drinks.” She turned to Irisviel, raising an eyebrow. “I would not know what I might prefer among these. What would you drink?”
Irisviel smiled wryly. “Well, that’s a good question. I’m afraid I don’t usually drink, as a rule. Alcohol is hard on my body… That is one of the difficulties of being a homunculus. I could normally take a light beer, but Kiritsugu isn’t going to have any here.”
Saber frowned, putting down the bottle in her hand. “I will not drink if you cannot.”
“Of course, I understand. That’s why I also came up here to find this.”
Irisviel reached into the hollow behind the bookcase and pulled out a box of chocolates.
“Candy?”
“Liquor chocolates!” Irisviel laughed. “I mean, they have alcoholic content, too, but it’s very little. You’d get sick from the sugar before the alcohol could affect you. As for what you should drink,” she said, plucking two bottles from the table, “here. Some of that smoked whiskey, and a good bourbon. I see Kiritsugu drink these the most often. They’re good for sipping by a fire. Now let’s go back to my room.”
Saber patiently humored her, and the two of them descended to the first level, picking their way across the rubble in the hallways. Irisviel’s room, which was actually her new room, as the one she was previously using had been handily demolished in battle, was in a back corner of the mansion. The windows faced the forest behind the house, and behind that were the low hills, beyond which would be the city lights of Fuyuki. But here, secluded by geography and a twenty-minute drive, the night sky was still relatively dark.
As Saber started a fire in the fireplace, Irisviel grabbed a small glass from the next room over and frowned over the lack of ice.
“I should’ve had some ice shipped here before,” she muttered to herself, pouring out the bourbon.
“What did you say?” Saber said at her shoulder.
Irisviel sighed. “I’m afraid I haven’t got ice for your drink.”
“I am quite used to warm drinks.”
“If you say so, then I suppose it’s alright.”
Irisviel handed the glass to Saber, and the two of them sat on chairs by the fire, keeping a window open so that it wouldn’t get too stuffy inside. As Saber sipped on her glass, praising the bourbon for its smooth and warm taste with spiced undertones, Irisviel started on a liquor chocolate. Each one was wrapped in a silvery shiny foil, and the chocolate itself was dark and smooth, reflecting the fire’s light. She bit into it, and the gel inside covered her tongue with a combination of sweet raspberry and bitter alcohol. The combination was strong as a flavor, but she found it pleasant.
The two of them chatted as the fire crackled, and as Saber’s glass emptied, her cheeks brightened, and her eyes flashed with mirth. Irisviel refilled her glass with more bourbon, and Saber swirled the drink, looking into the fire.
“Once,” she said with a loose smile, “I overdrank at a meeting with other kings and a number of ambassadors. I was too well-trained at that point to cause a ruckus–but I’m told I said some very strange things. Silly things about monsters roaming Britain, evil fairies and ill-fated knights… Kay gave me a good scolding after that.”
“Who did you usually drink with?” Irisviel asked, having already stopped her consumption of the chocolates after three since the sugar was making her teeth ache.
Saber took a sip of her bourbon. “Lancelot. I drank with him many times. But he is the sort of man who becomes subdued and saddened after drinking. Kay was too busy to entertain me most days… And wouldn’t you know it, Gawain could hardly drink. It was too easy for him to lose his temper when he drank. Bedivere often abstained from anything harder than beer, and Tristan was always away from court. There were not many knights to count on drinking with… Does it seem strange that a king would not have drinking companions?” Saber gave her a self-deprecating smile, then downed the rest of her glass. “I drank in front of an audience or rarely at all. The best knights to talk with always left court for their own lives. Erec, Yvain, Lamorak, Balin and Balan.”
Because she looked so somber all of a sudden, Irisviel changed the subject.
“You drank at feasts, right? And holidays. Those were the times knights returned to tell the court about their adventures, weren’t they? What adventures did you like hearing about the most?”
Saber leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Well. Let me remember. At one feast, which marked the end of the year, Lancelot sent over a hundred people to court that he had fought with, won against, or saved from an evil knight. I heard later that Kay had hard words with him about ‘overtaxing the king’s coffers,’ though I didn’t take it seriously at the time. Now, I think I understand… But you wanted to hear about the adventures. You see, it began when Lancelot was kidnapped by a trio of witches…”
As Saber regaled her with tales of various knights’ exploits, Irisviel listened in rapt attention. But her attention wasn’t just on Saber’s words. As the two of them got more comfortable, they left the stiff chairs and settled on the rug, and Irisviel settled her dress around her legs. Saber sketched out figures and punctuated her sentences with gestures in the air, more animated than Irisviel had ever seen her. As the room warmed, Saber also loosened her shirt collar, the outer suit having been abandoned an hour ago, and Irisviel found her gaze sliding to her exposed collarbone before she stopped herself, face warming.
She couldn’t keep her eyes off Saber. Saber was utterly relaxed, leaning against the chair behind her with one leg bent and the other stretched out towards the fire. When she leaned her head back, Irisviel swallowed, trying not to linger on her slender neck, and when Saber lifted her glass to her lips, Irisviel looked away before it made contact. Soon, she found that the easiest course of action was to focus on the glass itself, but even that didn’t keep Saber entirely out of her vision, so she couldn’t help but admire the long, thin fingers that looked like they would be so easy to hold–
“Are you curious?” Saber asked, her voice relaxed.
Irisviel stared at her for a moment, feeling like she had been caught, before realizing what Saber meant.
“No, I–” She shook her head. “You mean the drink?”
“You have been looking at my glass for a while now. I am sorry you could not drink with me–”
“I think I can,” Irisviel interrupted her, heat rising to her face. Something, or maybe everything about the way Saber looked right now made her want to be reckless. A little alcohol wouldn’t hurt. She only drank once in a blue moon; when would she get another chance?
The thought dredged up a thick and heavy emotion in her heart before she quashed it. Tonight wasn’t for thinking of such things.
“I can drink a little,” she said confidently. “I have had alcohol before. Kiritsugu says my body can tolerate at least a glass. I was hesitant before, but it would be a waste not to have any now.”
When she made a motion to rise, Saber stopped her with a hand on her arm. Her palm was warm against Irisviel’s skin.
“Let me,” Saber said, smiling. “You were about to get another glass, were you not? Use my glass. I will pour you some drink. Which would you prefer?”
Irisviel settled back down. “Well, now that you’ve tried both… give me the one you prefer.”
She watched as Saber rose in a smooth motion and poured her a bit of of the smoked whiskey. Did she always have such confidence in her movements? The way Saber walked always seemed like a choreographed thing. The kind of artful bladework demonstrations you saw in videos, that was the purposefulness in her every step. Saber handed her the glass, and their fingers grazed each other. Irisviel knew Saber wasn’t noticing every little thing like she was, and the embarrassment made her take a big gulp of the whiskey straight away–and then she coughed, the alcohol burning the back of her throat.
“Irisviel!”
Saber patted her on the back, then kneaded her shoulders.
“Is it too strong after all?” Saber asked with a concerned expression on her face.
“No, it’s fine,” Irisviel said between coughs. “I drank too quickly. Oh, I’m an idiot. I haven’t had any alcohol in a while, so I forgot whiskey was this strong… I drank it like I would a wine.”
“Would the bourbon have been better?” Saber said anxiously.
“Really, it’s nothing,” Irisviel assured her. “This whiskey is stronger, but it’s good. It was my fault. Look, I’m fine. See?”
She took another sip from the glass and smiled up at Saber, who let out a breath and settled back into her position by the other chair. Irisviel felt a pang of regret at the distance, then chased the feeling away with a few more quick sips of whiskey. Although it burned on the way down, it gave her a warm feeling in her chest. The smoky flavor complimented the dark whiskey nicely, and there was somewhat of a fruity aftertaste.
As they continued chatting, this time Irisviel leading the conversation about Illya’s activities as a baby and the difficulties her and Kiritsugu had had keeping her already-active Magic Circuits under control, Irisviel began to notice her head growing lighter. Some part of her remarked dispassionately that it was the effect of the alcohol and warned her against letting her inhibitions loose, but the rest of her couldn’t find the need to care. Tonight was for throwing cares away. The room appeared brighter and warmer. Her limbs felt loose, so Irisviel progressively slumped down more and more as the whiskey took effect.
The fire began to die down, and Irisviel realized that it had been a while since she’d said anything. She pushed herself up to her elbows, and her hair fell all around her face, obscuring the room. She giggled, suddenly feeling silly.
“Don’t strain yourself,” came Saber’s voice, softly.
A shadow fell over her, and she heard the floor creak as Saber crouched next to her. As one hand settled on her shoulder, the other ran through her hair, tucking it behind her ears. Saber was close, dangerously so. Without thinking, Irisviel caught Saber’s wrist as she was about to lift her hand away.
“I think,” Irisviel said with a little effort, as her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, “I may be a little drunk.”
Saber smiled, and Irisviel stared at her, at her bright eyes, the corners of which were crinkled in amusement, at a swoop of blond hair that had escaped from the ponytail, and at her lips… She stared longer than she should have, but feeling so uninhibited, Irisviel couldn’t really care. She reached a hand toward Saber’s face, and Saber went still. Irisviel hesitated before reaching her, but then Saber let out a breath and took Irisviel’s hand with her free hand.
“Irisviel,” she said in a low voice. “You asked who I drank with usually. I remember now. I often drank with Guinevere.”
The name made Irisviel start. She quickly withdrew her hand and let go of Saber’s wrist, sitting up.
“Oh,” she said, suddenly self-conscious. “I see. I mean, that makes sense.”
She took her cup from the floor, but couldn’t bring herself to drink the rest of her whiskey.
“I must be behaving very strangely,” she said, and tried to laugh, but it came out flat and choked. “I’m sorry, Saber. I shouldn’t have drank at all.”
But as she was focusing on her glass, held in both hands, Saber’s hands came and cupped hers.
“You mistake my meaning,” Saber said carefully, looking her in the eyes. “I find our time together pleasant. You remind me of–not of her, but of our times together. Do you understand?”
Irisviel felt her pulse quicken, and her face heated.
“I don’t think I do,” she said in reply, slowly, feeling her boldness. “Maybe you can help me understand.”
Saber’s expression was soft, but not quite open. There was something cautious–and tender–about her movements as she gently brushed Irisviel’s hair with her hand, bringing up a long lock to her lips, pressing a kiss to it.
“Do you understand now?” Saber said, voice growing husky.
“Not yet,” Irisviel said, almost whispering. “Help me understand more.”
A smile teased at the corners of Saber’s mouth. She took the glass from Irisviel’s hands and drank the last of the whiskey, then set the cup aside. Brushing the stray hair out of her own face, which Irisviel’s hands ached to do, she leaned in until her lips nearly met Irisviel’s.
“Like this?” Saber breathed against her lips, the smell of the whiskey strong.
Irisviel, hardly daring to move, only gave her the slightest nod–and then their lips met.
Saber tasted like smoke and vanilla, the aftertaste of the whiskey and bourbon, and Irisviel drank her in. She was aware of Saber’s hand curling along her neck, and she mimicked her as they leaned into each other, running a hand down Saber’s collar and slipping a finger in to run along the collarbone she had been aching to touch the whole night. Saber pressed a hand against the small of her back, pulling her in, and her kiss was insistent and hungry.
Irisviel gasped for air when they separated, and Saber looked at her with a gleam in her eye, her lips slightly parted in a smile that showed teeth.
“Arthur…” Irisviel whispered when she caught her breath.
Saber cupped her face, running a thumb across her cheek. “You said my name.”
Some emotion swelled in her heart, so, desperate for an outlet, Irisviel grabbed the front of Saber’s shirt with a hand and pulled her in for another kiss. Saber laughed against her lips, emitting a deep and hoarse chuckle.
“Irisviel, I didn’t expect you to be so bold,” Saber murmured.
“Blame it on the alcohol,” Irisviel said, laughing.
Saber couldn’t seem to stop kissing Irisviel, planting kisses everywhere she could reach, from Irisviel’s cheeks up to her temple, and all along her neck. Irisviel entertained her, and in return, touched Saber everywhere she had always wanted to. She smoothed Saber’s hair behind her ears, ran her fingers across the back of Saber’s neck where the hair was fine and even lighter than the rest of it so that it looked white in the moonlight, for the fire had gone down to embers. She interlaced her fingers in Saber’s and it felt right, and when they slowed down, they stayed in an embrace for a few minutes. Irisviel ran her hands down Saber’s back, admiring the structure of muscle and bone that produced such a strong swordsman.
Eventually, Saber shifted so that Irisviel could put her head down in her lap, and they stayed like that for a while, Saber playing with her hair and Irisviel looking up at Saber’s beautifully sculpted face.
“You are like a ghost in the moonlight,” Saber said, her fingers tapping along Irisviel’s collarbone. “A lovely ghost of a maiden.”
“How did I die?” Irisviel asked playfully.
Saber thought for a moment, tilting her head up. “Drowning. Your true love abandoned you, or maybe they died in a far-away war. Driven mad with longing or grief, you threw yourself into a lake… your body was never found, and people say you never died, only lived on as a specter.”
Irisviel laughed. “How romantic. Does anyone ever avenge me? Or lay me to rest?”
“No,” Saber said with a smile. “All who chase your supernatural beauty are led to the same lake, where they fall in and drown. Perhaps you simply wish to wait until you meet your beloved again.”
Irisviel found Saber’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “I have a different interpretation.”
“Oh? What would that be?”
“I threw myself into the lake because my true beloved was within it… And those I lead into the lake are offerings.”
“A temptress,” Saber said, softly. “Yes, it suits you.”
“What does that say about how you see me?” Irisviel said, laughing.
She sat up and turned to face Saber, who didn’t let go of her hand, only changed her grip on it. Saber turned up Irisviel’s palm and pressed a warm kiss to it while keeping her eyes on Irisviel.
“My mysterious mistress,” Saber said in nearly a growl, leaning into Irisviel’s hand. “My lady, my ghost.”
For a moment, Irisviel couldn’t say anything. A vision suddenly came into her head, of herself in a white dress like the one she was wearing now, wading into a dark lake, and Saber leading her in front, holding a candle. But somehow, it carried none of the romance they had been talking about; the candle guttered out in a gust of freezing wind, and the water wasn’t just deep, it was black and thick, and it was swallowing them covering their heads–
“Irisviel?”
Saber looked at her, eyebrows drawn together in concern.
“Is everything alright?” Saber asked, gently massaging Irisviel’s hand. “You seemed, somehow, afraid for a moment. I am sorry if my morbid metaphor disturbed you. I did not mean for it to be so dark.”
“That’s not it,” Irisviel said, pulling her hand away, feeling cold. She rubbed her arms and shivered. “The fire’s gone out.”
“I will go retrieve more firewood to relight it.”
“No!”
Saber stopped, looking surprised, and Irisviel swallowed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, a strange heat building in her chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t know–Something’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. I can’t–”
“Irisviel,” Saber said gently, reaching out a hand to her cheek. “You’re crying.”
Surprised, Irisviel lifted a hand to her eyes, and when she touched her face, it was wet. When had she begun to cry? The tears dripped down and continued coming with no sign of stopping. She did not sob, but the tightness in her chest made it hard to breathe. As she hunched over, still sitting on the floor, Saber rubbed her back.
“Talk to me,” Saber murmured. “Take your time, Irisviel. I will be here.”
When the pain in her chest, or perhaps in her heart, subsided, Irisviel took a deep breath and let it out. In the silence, she could sense Saber waiting.
“Does this mean anything?” she began, her voice rough from the tears. “You and me, now, when this war isn’t over yet? Would it be anything if the war were to end?”
“You speak of what comes after.”
“Of course I do. I don’t want to drown, Saber.” She looked out the window, up at the cold, lonely moon. “There is no after for us. I didn’t, hadn’t wanted to think about it. You’re beautiful, Saber, and I don’t regret this right now, but does it mean anything? I’m afraid… Afraid that we’ll be hurt this way.”
Next to her, Saber said nothing for a moment, and Irisviel worried that she had been too rash. What was the use of voicing vague, nameless worries? But before she could think of slipping away, escaping this conversation, Saber spoke.
“I know what the end of this war means,” she said. “I understand that I am a walking myth who has no place in this world, this time.”
When Irisviel opened her mouth to contradict her, Saber squeezed her shoulder.
“I know what you wish to say,” Saber continued. “But my concern is not whether I am foreign to your time. If I could live, it would be a pleasure to me. But we both know that while your time marches on, mine is stopped forever.” She brought a hand up to her chest, smiling sadly. “I have already died, Irisviel. That death is engraved on my soul–forever. I am the ghost, and you are the one I am leading on. I must gain the Grail, and I must wish for the salvation of my kingdom, Britain. My one, greatest wish is for my people. And Kiritsugu’s wish is to save this world. Your world. Your world is not mine. So what do you wish for?”
Irisviel shook her head. “I don’t… I can’t have another wish. And if I did, would it mean anything?”
Saber took her hand. “Yes. It would matter, Irisviel. Because even if we cannot seize the future, we have the present. As long as we believe, this moment can be more important than everything else.” She lifted Irisviel’s hand and kissed the back of it with an infinite tenderness. “I may have died once, may fall again one of these days, but right now, I am with you. Let me be with you.”
Irisviel felt a tear roll down her cheek, and she closed her eyes. “Then hear my wish, Arthur. Right now, I want nothing else but to be with you. Will you… will you stay with me tonight?”
“I will. And if this night lasts forever, I will stay with you forever.”
It was such a sincere promise that it nearly hid the edges of tragedy that it spoke of. Irisviel clung to it as they sank into each other’s arms. Saber kissed each tear as it fell, and even if it hurt, she treasured that pain, too. Every moment, she wanted to imprint onto her memories forever–or at least for as long as she had left. She would never tell Saber that her own days were numbered. It felt as though, as long as she never said it, they had all the time in the world.
At some point, Saber carried her to the bed, and they went on talking in hushed tones, about everything and nothing. All that mattered was that they were there together, and everything else they did seemed incredibly important, yet at the same time meaningless by proximity.
Eventually, Irisviel felt that she couldn’t stay awake any longer, but the fear of sinking and drowning kept her from closing her eyes. Sensing her worries, Saber reassured her that since Servants did not need to sleep, she would watch over Irisviel as she slept. As Irisviel settled down beneath the covers, Saber sat next to her, holding her hand. Surely, the sky outside had started to brighten by that time; surely, the night had ended long ago in favor of morning. But to the two of them, the night was timeless, it was everywhere, and it would stay with them until the very end.