30 Day Challenge

Cuddling

Day 2: Cuddling Somewhere

A time after the Banquet of Kings and before the Great battle of the River

"My wish for the grail?" Lancer blinked, amber orbs dark in the cool autumn night, "I would like to say I do not have one." He spoke as he crossed his legs. The fluffy grass was squished underneath him, his fingers picking at the floor.

"What do you mean? You must have a wish." The swordswoman took a seat next to him.

They had finished a friendly spar, with a tie again. It was odd, Kiritsugu had let her go off on her own for after the exchange at the castle they had grown a little further apart. Irisviel was currently with Maiya and therefore the King of knights was not concerned the slightest—Maiya was a reliable woman.

The Lancer, on the other hand, had fled for the evening—he was tired of Sola-Ui and his master throwing insults his way. Well, he was more kicked out if anything, after a dispute between Sola-Ui and Kayneth while the Handsome man tried to help his master.

The man shrugged, watching as she fell next to him, her dress fanning around her. She lacked her armour for after the tie, they had decided to rest a while before returning to their respectful masters. It was nice for a small drop of peace and Knightly Chivalry between the slaughter that passed as 'The Holy Grail War', "I know not of something my heart truly desires other than serving along side an honourable Master."

"Honourable?" The woman's thin brown eyebrow was raised, "Your master is honourable?"

The Lancer let an accidentally, mind you, chuckle slip, "As if yours is any better, milady."

"I suppose you are correct on that." She nodded, "We must be plagued with masters that do not share our dream."

The first knight of the Fianna cracked a small smile, "And what is your dream, milady?"

Arturia turned away from him, dropping her gaze to her lap. She blinked, thinking about what Alexander had said about her wish and desire for Camelot, "It is a bit silly, really." She had lost a bit of confidence in herself.

"I promise not to tease." He was fidgeting with the yellow lance, tracing his fingers along the intricate designs, "My wish is quite pathetic, to be rather honest with you, King Pendragon."

"I find your wish humble, dear knight." She smiled up at him.

Diarmuid shot his head up towards her, "Thank you, my King... I would have never thought that I would ever get the chance to be sitting next to such a great King. And a woman King, nonetheless."

"My wish," she was not sure how to respond to the compliment, "is to save my Kingdom. I wish for only Britain's happiness." Since the last reaction, she prepared herself, ready for another scolding and—hopefully not—yet another person that would not recognize her as a king.

She felt the sudden hold on her injured arm, a cool breeze blowing her hair aside, "A selfless king is honourable in his own way, milady, your wish is honourable—much more so than any other's, I admit."

His words made her chest swell, albeit gave her a bit of difficulty breathing, "Thank you," a smile slithered unto her lips, her confidence in her wish booting, "Only another knight would understand."

"The same for my wish, only you would understand in this war." He smiled at her, a strange feeling in his gut, something fluttering about.

"It is refreshing to be sitting on the grass amid war. It is as if there is nothing to linger your thoughts on, only the stars above." Arturia lifted her green gaze up at the spotted sky, "Thank you, Diarmuid."

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his real name slipping from her thin pale lips. It was soothing, and he had to lie down, the ground was nearly swaying under him, there was no way he could sit up with the light feeling in his head at the sight of vibrant orbs of a woman who thought only about a Knight's Honour.

Arturia leaned over him, making sure to settle her injured arm softly on the floor, "How, uhm, did you perish?" It was a sudden question, one which caught him off guard.

The sound of crickets lingered in the air as silence filled the space between them, "Not honourably."

Arturia giggled at their over use of the word, "I find that hard to believe."

"Ah, really?" He turned to her, "Tell me, then, how do you think I perished."

"There must have been an epic battle with a formidable opponent." She settled herself next to him, laying her body down and looking up at the clear deep sea sky.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched his chest rumble with chuckles, "If only that were the case, I would not be here, milady."

"Oh," she laughed along, "I had nearly forgotten about that whole 'unsatisfied' part."

"I will only tell you how I finally perish if you tell me as well." He replied, a somewhat flirtatious tone in his voice, one he had not intended at all.

She laughed—surprisingly, "Yes, I believe that is a fair exchange."

"I was married, to the ex-fiancée of my master. Do not ask how things had ended up that way, it was not my intention." He shook his head rapidly, "My master, I respected him with every ounce of my being, had invited me on a hunt and while we were catching game, we stumbled upon a raging boar. I tried my best to fend it off, but the boar had always had the upper hand since my birth. I can only remember that clouds up in the sky hazily, my vision fading as My lord Fionn hurried to the creak in hopes of bringing me some water."

"A boar?" She questioned, "A boar was your death?"

"Oddly enough," he blinked, "and definitely not as courageous as I would have hoped."

She shifted her body so as to face him, "I perished a top a hill, a trusted friend held the pommel."

"Battle?"

"Battle."

The atmosphere around them fell into something between nostalgia and depression. They were quiet, feeling the soft cold breeze of autumn air. They did not speak any further than this, simply remained staring at the sky and enjoying the company of each other.

They had soon fallen asleep on the grass under the thick blanket of stars. Only the crickets lullabying them on such a cold day of the Holy Grail War.

Diarmuid's eyes fluttered open first, his arms secured around Arturia while her head rested on his shoulder and her arm was stretched across his chest, her serene breathing assuring him she was still asleep.

She was so petite in his arms. So very frail. There was nothing in this world that could prove to him—in this exact second—that she was a mighty king who ruled over a great Kingdom and had fought in many battles. She was still a girl; a woman with hopes and dreams. In his arms, she was simply Arturia; not a king, not a servant, not an enemy. Simply Arturia.

They were both hurting, they were both alone, and yet, this Grail brought them against each other in such a cruel way, for the hope of one of their dying wishes to be completed. Just one wish.