Chapter Text
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Gilgamesh felt little else aside from boredom as he strode through the dark, narrow corridor, looking at the prisoners inside the cells without even the slightest hint of interest present in his crimson orbs.
He had agreed to help Iskandar with some of his warriors in the conquering of the Einzbern castle and its lands, and they had succeeded. Normally Gilgamesh wouldn’t have deigned himself to agree to such a thing, but in truth, he knew he could not refuse, since he owed the red-bearded man a debt.
It wasn’t anything major: when Uruk’s borders had experienced some unrest, the Macedonian warrior had intervened to quiet the minor riots. The aid had not been requested and it definitely had not been needed – but Iskandar had helped in the defence of his territory, and Gilgamesh always paid his debts, no matter how grudgingly he admitted he even had a debt.
When the battle was over, aside from everything else they had agreed on – because even if he was repaying a debt, the golden king was not moving his army without getting anything in exchange – Iskandar had been so elated by the victory that he had offered him another gift: Gilgamesh could choose and claim one of the prisoners.
Offering a war prisoner to someone else was considered a great honour and a sign of friendship above all else.
While neither of them showed any mercy on the battlefield, they did not inflict tortures on war prisoners, instead treating them with sufficient decency. Usually, some of them became part of the conqueror’s forces, as long as they did not show any rebellious tendencies, but most suffered lives in servitude – assuming the commander was feeling generous enough to let them live.
Now strolling through the cells separated by a corridor, Gilgamesh’s eyes swept over them all, no one having caught his eye until that moment. They were all ordinary, defeated people, not a single thing making any of them interesting. He felt himself getting both more bored and more impatient with every second that passed.
Then, suddenly, he stopped, staring at a woman who was in a cell on her own.
Contrary to other captives, she was not crying – silently or loudly, they were all the same – nor was she begging for mercy or staring at him full of fear. Not at all.
In fact, she seemed… determined. Strong. Stern. Unyielding.
And, most of all, calm.
He observed her keenly. She had long, golden locks, and from the appearance of it, her hair used to be tied up, but probably during the battle confusion, it had come loose and was now cascading down her back. Her simple blue dress was covered in bloodstains and was torn in several places, and she was sitting on the floor, intently staring at the wall in front of her.
What was most interesting was the strange posture she had. Gilgamesh recognized it as the one capable combatants used, in order to be able to get up immediately in case of an emergency.
Very interesting.
The rest of the prisoners was completely irrelevant to him, and since this was the last cell, he knew that there was no chance of him finding anyone else who would catch his eye or stand out in any possible way.
He made his choice.
“This one,” he declared, gesturing to her. “I shall have this one.”
Two of the guards that were with him nodded and went to open the barred door. Even though she glared at the men, she didn’t say a word nor did she resist as they lifted her from the floor. Her hands were tied behind her back, something that wasn’t the case for the other captives, and Gilgamesh found it peculiar.
In the meantime, the captain of Iskandar’s guards, having noticed his interest, discreetly cleared his throat.
His voice low, he began, “This woman’s identity, my lord, is still unknown. She is presumed to have been a guest at the castle because of the wing where she was found. She struggled most fiercely when she was seized and apparently did not… make it easy to restrict her.”
Gilgamesh was not going to be fooled so easily.
“How much did she struggle?”
The other man was obviously uncomfortable with answering.
“She did manage to incapacitate some of our people.”
The blond king insisted, feeling impatience and strangely, even some curiosity, “How many?”
The uncomfortable expression was more visible with each passing second.
“Eleven, my lord.”
Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. That was remarkable.
“If she took out such a large number, I am surprised that she is not more heavily guarded.”
The captain seemed to relax a bit at that.
“Ah, well, my lord… she didn’t even have a sword, therefore she was not deemed–”
Gilgamesh’s eyebrow shot even higher. His tone started to have some coldness in it.
“Captain, this woman defeated eleven of your armed, trained soldiers without a sword and you don’t deem her dangerous enough to guard her more securely? If there was ever need for it, I have now confirmation of the fact that you are not worthy of my army.”
He made a mental note to decide at a later moment whether or not to report to Iskandar the fact that there was a patent lack of brains among his soldiers.
The captain did not dare utter another word as the soldiers dragged the woman out of her cell and unceremoniously threw her at Gilgamesh’s feet.
The golden king brought his attention back on her. Even if she had been tossed down, in the dirt, without any regard whatsoever, she had already brought herself to a sitting position, not an easy feat to accomplish with both hands tied behind her back.
The captain, visibly attempting to please the powerful king of Uruk, ordered, “Get her to her feet.”
The two guards grabbed the woman’s arms and roughly picked her up from the ground, forcing her to stand, and kept their position, holding her still.
While she wasn’t deserving of receiving any decent treatment since she was merely a prisoner, Gilgamesh almost raised an eyebrow at the display of savage cruelty. Even stranger, while she clearly hated the way they manhandled her, the woman did not have an outward reaction to it – she seemed to have enough intelligence to realize that it would not bring her any kind of benefit.
He took a step towards her and put a hand under her chin.
“Look at me,” he commanded, no room for argument in his words and tone.
He could sense her reluctance, her desire to disobey, her anger and her wish to resist, but to his satisfaction, she brought her head up and stared straight into his eyes.
Those brilliant green orbs bored into his crimson ones deeply, without a hint of fear or hesitation in them. She was guarded, yes, and perhaps she did not have a full-blown boldness – which he would have found foolish anyway – but she held his gaze without blinking and, from her expression, it was obvious that she was studying him keenly.
“Are you mute?” he inquired, feeling a strange surge of curiosity since, after all, she had not spoken yet. However, he knew it was unlikely to be the case; she was probably just being stubborn.
She gritted her teeth and very visibly held back a snarl as her eyes flashed. She didn’t break eye contact as she let out a small, but very audible, scoff.
Gilgamesh could not deny that he was impressed by her almost silent bravery.
However, Iskandar’s captain did not seem to like her silence, the length of that exchanged glance nor the impudence of the prisoner scoffing at the golden lord.
The man took a step forward, approaching her.
“How dare you behave so shamelessly towards your lord! He is your owner, wench, show him respect!”
His hand, clad in armour, was raised in the air and then went down to struck her face hard, snapping her head to the side forcefully, as she was unable to move since the two guards were still firmly keeping her in place.
However, even as a small rivulet of blood dripped from her mouth, the woman turned her head back towards the captain who had delivered the blow at her, and pierced him with her green eyes. The limitless amount of fierce ferocity in her glare made the man take an abrupt step away in shock – but then he narrowed his eyes, and lifted his hand again, ready to strike her again.
This time, however, Gilgamesh intercepted him and grabbed his wrist in an iron grip.
“Captain,” he said silkily, and the man stilled in his actions immediately, “I chose this prisoner as my own – which means, in case you had conveniently decided to forget about it, that she is under my authority now. I did not give you leave to hit her – and you will not lay a finger on what is mine, ever again, or I will make sure that your crime is punished by death.” He gave a lazy smirk. “A slow, painful death.”
The man paled considerably, as did the other two guards, who hastily let go of the woman’s arms.
Gilgamesh gave a wave with his hand.
“Leave now. Oh,” he added casually, “tonight I am having dinner with your commander. You can be certain that your unqualifiable behaviour towards the prisoner will come up as subject of conversation during the meal.”
Terrified, the three men barely remembered to bow before quickly leaving the prison.
Finally, Gilgamesh had the opportunity to observe the prisoner he had chosen without being interrupted by those foolish inferior people. Her green eyes were still firmly stuck on him, and she was giving him an impassive stare, even as more blood dripped from her lips. She still hadn’t spoken a word.
The place wasn’t ideal for talking to her, therefore he took the chains that hung from her bound wrists and pulled them, soundlessly guiding her to his tent.
Once inside, he remained standing, still in his shining armour after the battle, and gave his prisoner a glance over.
“What is your name, woman?”
She stared at him for a while. It was obvious that she was silently debating with herself. She seemed to make a decision and, with a glint of something he couldn’t identify in her eyes, made use of her ability to speak for the first time.
Her voice was slightly deeper than he had expected for such a petite person, and while it had a rough edge, indicating that she had not had anything to drink for quite some time, the tone was firm and unwavering.
“Saber.”
At the word, Gilgamesh frowned almost imperceptibly. ‘Saber’? What kind of name was that? He had heard it before, as it was the name of a warrior who was renowned for fighting only to help the oppressed and the poor, but surely that couldn’t be–
He saw that glint in her eyes again and quickly realized the truth. She was mocking him.
He narrowed his eyes a little, half-annoyed and half-amused. She was truly interesting.
“Your real name, not the name you’re known with when you fight.”
A smirk appeared on his lips when he saw the briefest expression of shock crossing her features, confirming to him that his deduction was correct. The fact that she was a warrior was plain to see, but she had not expected him to be able to guess more than that about her.
The suspicion and the caution in her eyes gave him a thrill, making his satisfaction at having chosen her grow.
She studied him for a while longer, before she finally admitted, very slowly, and in a tone that did not leave any doubt about her sincerity, “My name is Arturia.”
“Arturia,” he repeated, drawling out the sound of it, tasting it, getting used to the unfamiliar pronunciation. He felt a new thrill at now knowing the name of this strange woman – and at knowing that she was a very bad liar. She was obviously a person who valued honesty and integrity.
“Why were you at the Einzbern castle, Arturia?” He liked using that name, even though he would never admit it.
Her eyes had not left his face for a second.
“Why did you attack it?” she shot back.
He almost blinked. She… was asking questions? And was refusing to give him an answer at the same time?
His eyes narrowed visibly, but she stood her ground, pressing on, “Why did you attack the Einzbern castle?”
With two menacing steps, he was in front of her and he grabbed her under her chin, forcing her to look directly into his eyes – not that she would try to avoid it, after all, she was clearly not the type who would be intimidated.
He liked that, even in his current state of irritation at her.
“Listen, woman… you obviously don’t realize your position. While I won’t mistreat you like those inferior beings did, you are my prisoner, and I will not hesitate to end your life myself if you test my patience.”
Her eyes flashed with an unidentifiable emotion.
“I am well aware of my position,” she replied, her tone low and controlled, as she was unable to move away from his grasp since her hands were still tied behind her back.
She was not defeated, and she was not going to budge, but she was not going to openly defy him, either. She wasn’t that foolish – she had seen that he was more powerful and firmer than her previous captors.
His hold on her tightened and he pulled her closer, but when he noticed the red mark on her cheek and her half-split lip – the leftover from the blow the captain had inflicted on her earlier – he loosened his grip. She both saw the direction of his gaze and felt the lessening of the strength of his hold, and her eyes were filled with sudden confusion.
She stared at him, her expression intense.
“What kind of prisoner am I?” she suddenly questioned. “Am I a servant? A slave? A concubine?” She spat the last word with enough venom as to make very clear what she thought of it.
For a split second, Gilgamesh considered. The question was actually legitimate, since he had not yet decided what to do with her; he had merely chosen her among the prisoners because she stood out… for some reason.
And, for a very short moment, he did think about taking her to his bed. He had scanned her form earlier: while she was petite, she was well proportioned and her body was strong and flexible. She would make for a very enjoyable partner under the sheets.
However…
She had taken down eleven soldiers without the use of weapons, according to what Iskandar’s captain had said. She had not conceded defeat to him even in her dire situation. Her spirit had not broken when she had been mistreated and abused. She had refused to submit even when he had threatened her life.
She was a prisoner, but while she acknowledged the fact, she rejected the notion of bowing down to her captors.
She was far too interesting for her own good.
Yes. Once again, he made a choice. She did possess enough beauty to be a pleasant concubine, and every glance at her seemed to make something awaken in his blood – but her spirit was too interesting to reduce her to the role of a simple bed warmer.
Therefore, he smirked, and felt her tense in his loosened grip.
“As for now, you will be kept as a slave. And slaves answer their lord’s questions.” Tightening his hold once again but at the same time avoiding hurting her – there was no need for other red marks on her – he reiterated, “Why were you at the castle?”
Her eyes were ablaze, and she was obviously trying to bore a hole through him. Their non-verbal clash did not seem to be ready to end any time soon – but Gilgamesh had the pleasure of seeing a very reluctant concession creep into her green orbs.
“I was a guest of the Einzberns’.”
He considered the information. It was nothing new for him to hear.
“Why were you there though, Arturia?”
She stubbornly kept her mouth shut, and he felt his irritation rising.
“Arturia – I told you not to test my patience.”
“Then why do you not kill me?” she challenged him, her eyes aflame once again.
It was very interesting to realize that she did not mind dying. She was perfectly aware of the fact that death was a concrete possibility – and she embraced it.
Oh, no. That would not do.
Without being forceful, he sank his hand in her golden locks, stained with dirt because of when she had been thrown to the ground earlier, and pulled her face close to him. There was something about her that seemed to constantly draw him to her, and he disliked not being able to see what exactly it was.
“Because right now, that’s what you want, Arturia. But the Einzbern leader has already lost her life – and as there will be no more death today, you shall be allowed to live at least until tomorrow, when your destiny will be decided.”
The woman’s eyes flickered for a second and, for the first time, her gaze seemed to want to lower. She completely disregarded his threat to her life, focusing instead on another part of his speech.
“Irisviel von Einzbern is dead?”
He gave her a searching glance, releasing her hair minimally.
“You knew her well then.”
Her expression was curiously uncertain.
“Once, perhaps, I did.”
His gaze weighed her, and then he finally released her completely.
“Then why were you visiting her?”
Rigidly, she finally gave him a direct reply.
“I was invited… to attend the funeral of Irisviel von Einzbern’s child.”
His glance at her was sharp, but he made sure to hide his surprise. Iskandar had not mentioned anything about the Einzbern head having an heir, therefore it meant that he had not known about it.
But if she had had a child, it meant that she had had a spouse, too.
“Was the child legitimate?” His voice was much harsher than he had intended it to be. And from the unemotional stare she was giving him, it was clear that she knew exactly what was going through his mind.
If the Einzbern head had been married, then there was someone else who could claim the castle and its lands as legitimate owner – and that meant that the day’s battle had been useless.
Her tone was even as she finally said, “Her daughter was the legitimate heir.”
As he had already found out, she wasn’t a good liar, and that allowed him to determine that she was telling the truth.
“Where is the Einzbern’s husband?”
To that, he saw the woman’s expression freeze, and the small, abrupt movement of her mouth was as if she was suddenly tasting something extremely sour. Gilgamesh stared at her, noticing how that small movement emphasized her swollen jaw.
She obviously knew a lot about the Einzbern family, but she wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted to know that easily.
Turning around, he grabbed a goblet full of wine and a piece of cloth. Mindful of what the captain had said about the woman’s capabilities, he untied only one of her hands, keeping the other bound behind her back by passing the chain around her waist and securing her wrist to it.
Pressing the cloth into her unbound hand, he forced her to sit on a stool and set the goblet on a small table next to her.
“Clean up the blood traces on your face and drink,” he ordered flatly, surprising himself at how much trouble he was going through just for this one woman.
Her eyes were distrusting, but to his mild surprise, she complied. After she had taken two long, slow gulps of the red liquid, he went back to her and tied both her hands again, but this time in the front and not behind her back. Then he smirked as he leisurely took place on his recliner.
“Now, out with the truth.”
She studied him carefully.
“What will you do with the information I give you?”
He almost sighed.
“For being a prisoner, you are truly too annoyingly inquisitive.”
He stood up, walked to her and grabbed her hair once again. “We can do this the easy, peaceful way, or the hard, conflictual way. Arturia – tell me what I want to know about the Einzberns, and you will not have to suffer.”
Her gaze was steady as she broke free from his grasp with a sudden movement of her neck.
“What is truly stopping you from killing me?”
He contemplated her for several minutes. He had had enough of her resisting him.
“Very well then. Since you refuse to answer questions, you will serve your purpose in another way. The guards said you can fight. Tomorrow you will prove it.”
Her gaze was fierce as her head snapped towards him once more.
“I can prove it right away, if you untie me.”
His eyes on her had a falsely bored light.
“I have fought with more than enough people today, Arturia. I will not add a feisty little slave to the list.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Surely you wouldn’t be afraid of losing, my lord.” The taunt in her tone was impossible to miss.
He felt a new wave of emotion. He could see that she was trying to push him, but he was not going to let her.
Or maybe…
…maybe he would let her feel the consequences of her taunting him.
Before she could even realize what had happened, he was in front of her. One hand grabbed her around her waist, next to the chain, pulling her to her feet and making her almost lose her balance with the sudden movement. The other hand went behind her head, compelling her closer to him as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
Taking advantage of her exclamation of shock, he muffled it by gaining access and ravaging her mouth almost ferociously, without giving her even a second to react.
But by the time she had brought her bound hands up to try and push him away, he had already pulled back.
He smirked widely.
“If I had known that this was all it took to have you stop making disrespectful remarks…”
“Fiend!” she growled, furious beyond words, her face considerably flushed in anger and her lips quite red, both because of the strike from earlier and the treatment they had just received.
“Hmmm, perhaps it wasn’t enough…” he hummed, tracing her cheek with a finger, and chuckling as she immediately shook his touch off.
Taking the chain hanging from her wrists, he forced her to walk by his side, and he pulled her to a much smaller tent next to his. There was some food and some water, as well as a recliner to sleep on.
“This is where you will stay until I come for you. Don’t make any foolish attempts of escaping.”
Still seething at what he had done to her earlier, she openly glared at him and took a step away from him as he surprisingly released her wrists.
“Otherwise you will torture me and all that nonsense?”
His eyes suddenly turned a truly menacing shade of blood red.
“Every time you try to flee or do anything that I will deem too disrespectful, one of the prisoners will be hanged. It’s time you learn your place as my slave, Arturia.”
Her eyes widened a fraction and, from the look of pure shock that flashed through them, he knew that she was not going to try to leave.
He had finally found her weak point: if he threatened her directly, she was not going to budge, but if he threatened innocents, then she would give in.
While he did not care much about the other war prisoners nor was he merciful, he was not a cruel person by nature. It was not like him to hang anyone for no reason, and if the woman had known him a bit better, she would have realized it.
But since she didn’t, that empty threat was a very effective method of controlling his spirited captive.
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A few hours later, as Gilgamesh was starting dinner with Iskandar, he thought with satisfaction about the prisoner he had chosen.
He had made sure not to let it show, but he had heard about a strong warrior who went by the name ‘Saber’. Everyone talked about ‘his’ abilities and ‘his’ elusiveness; now that he had Saber in his grasp, he had to conclude that it wasn’t truly surprising to find out that the powerful warrior was in fact a woman.
And she was his prisoner.
His prisoner.
Oh yes, she was going to be entertaining, far more than she realized. No matter what happened to her, her spirit seemed to be indomitable – making her able to withstand anything she went through, making her get up every time she was thrown to the ground and making her fight back when she was mistreated.
Which reminded him…
“Iskandar, satisfy a curiosity of mine… since when do your soldiers strike defenceless prisoners?” he said with a slight smirk.
It was going to be a very interesting evening, and the life with his feisty little prisoner was going to make the following days even better.
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