Artoria had been reading through the spell book, trying to find ways to heal her wounds quickly. Now that she knew she had to head to Fuyuki, wherever that was, she had to heal all her wounds before they boarded the plane. After having flipped through almost a hundred pages, she found it; a healing spell. Now the real question was, would she be able to perform it?
Artoria set the book on the bed in front of her. She read over the spell a few times before she sat straight and took a deep breath. She could feel Diarmuid's gaze on her, as if she were on the stage of a magic show. Artoria didn't bother looking at him as she steadied her breathing. The fact that she had an audience made her nervous ever so slightly, but she told herself there was no judgement from him.
The short blonde sat cross legged on the bed as she extended her hands above the book. She closed her eyes and practiced the spell in her mind twice to make sure she had it memorized and then, as she hovered her hands over the spell book, she focused intensely and recited the spell.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and saw that the cuts on her legs remained. She sighed. "Again," she said as she closed her eyes.
Her mind was set on one single thing; healing herself. She had to want it, she had to heal herself. Taking another deep breath, she recited the spell. But once again, there was no glow, there was no healing, there was no magic.
Artoria grunted. She tried again, and again, and again. Nothing. No progress at all. She let out an exasperated sigh as she clenched her hands into fists. She rubbed her face in anger. Why couldn't she get it right? Why was the spell not working? "Okay, okay," she settled down, trying to suppress the bubbling rage that was threatening to erupt. "Once more," she assured herself.
She grunted once she opened her eyes and noted she was still injured. "What the hell am I doing wrong? Why won't this bloody thing work?!" She exploded. Artoria snatched the book from the bed and nearly flung it against the television if Diarmuid hadn't stopped her.
"Master," he murmured as he landed his hand on the book, easing her to lay it back down on the bed gently. "You can't expect to learn something on the first try. It takes practice to become even a bit better, now, how about you try it once more?"
She rolled her eyes as she looked away. "I've already tried," she seethed between clenched teeth. "I'm not cut out for this! I can't even make a single spell, how am I supposed to be a proper master?" She threw herself back onto the cushioned headboard of the bed. "I'm useless."
"You are an amazing master. Now, try it once more," he said as he handed her the book. His eyes were gentle and patient and Artoria would admit that she seemed like she was a teenager throwing a fit.
Artoria took the book from his hands and opened it back to the healing spell. She was preparing herself to try it once more but Diarmuid closed the ok shut.
"Actually," he began, "how about we try it in the middle of the night? I hear that's when your mana is strongest, it might just work then."
She looked at him and nodded as she set the book down next to herself. "Very well, if you think we should try at night, then I agree with you. You know more about these sorts of things." She shuffled to get to the end of the bed. She stretched a bit before standing from the bed, wincing as her feet made contact with the floor. The bottom of her feet were still stinging with sharp pain, but they were starting to heal as she made sure to tend to the cuts well. "Well," she turned to him as she sighed, trying to breathe out the pain. "We need to get you some human clothes so that you don't attract much attention, and we need to prepare for our departure."
Diarmuid bowed his head. "As my master commands."
"When we're out and about, you better not do that," she warned as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. "Once we get your clothes, we need to get you a passport. I think I know someone who might be able to help us with that."
"You mean, you plan on having me be physically present?" He asked.
"Well, you said it yourself when I summoned you, you can only see danger when you're in physical form, and it'll be easier to detect other servants, right? I think it's best just to get you some general clothes and then that way you can try on others." She said as she slipped into her jacket. "We should get going, we don't have all day." After collecting her keys, she picked up the sword and looked at it for a few seconds before figuring it would draw too much attention if she were to carry it on herself. She hid it underneath the bed and shoved the spellbook into her bag before exiting the room and asking Diarmuid to dematerialize.
Walking was a feat in itself for Artoria at the moment, but after having taken five extra strength ibuprofen tablets, she was starting to feel the pain a little less. She knew it wasn't healthy to be taking so many tablets, but at this point, it really didn't matter. Passing through the streets of London, she made sure to look around herself a few more times, just to be sure there wasn't anyone following after her. The spring air had finally started to warm, and along with the sun it was clearly sweater weather. Artoria had wanted to peel off her jacket, but decided against it thinking that maybe it would serve as some protection.
Something in the store windows caught her eye and she slowed to a stop in front of an art store. She stared at the black cylinder case. She thought about it for a second before stepping into the store, the annoying wind chime rang above her as she pushed the heavy glass door open. The store was lined with all sorts of art supplies, from watercolours to canvases, they even had modelling clay. Artoria analyzed the shelves, her eyes skimming over the products quickly, mind set on finding that cylinder case.
There it was, at the end of the row, in between the architecture models and blueprint paper. Artoria picked up a blueprint case. Unlike the one that she saw at the storefront which was only plastic, this one looked more professional. It was made of black fabric encasing a hard plastic shell, it had pockets and what looked like a well crafted golden yellow strap. It was the perfect size for her sword. She ended up buying it before she headed to a clothing store that was closest to her, which was only a few storefronts north.
It was proving quite difficult to find an outfit for Diarmuid as there was no way she knew his size, but after a while, she was able to find clothes that would be enough to fit him while they searched for better clothes. Diarmuid now stood before her in a white t-shirt that was three sizes too big and a huge pair of jeans. She couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he looked.
"With all due respect, master, I am not fond of this style, I prefer my armour, it's more flexible." He looked down at himself after she had ushered him into a bathroom to change.
Artoria eyed him, leaning against the sink with her arms crossed over her chest. "What did I say about calling me that?"
"Forgive me, my lady." He drew a hand to his chest and Artoria had to stop him from bowing.
Artoria sighed as she rubbed her brow. "Just call me Artoria when we're out here," she explained. "Let's get you some better clothes now that you don't look like you belong in a show."
Diarmuid obediently followed after Arturia, getting a few odd looks once they had left the washroom together. As they continued down the street, they got a few more stares. Artoria wasn't sure if it was because of his outfit, or if it was because they were such an odd pair. She brushed off the looks and led her servant into a high end store; it was easier for others to fit him into proper clothes than having her look through all the racks until she found something suitable.
"Wow," Diarmuid mumbled as he looked around in awe. The store was huge, it had marble floors and high decorated ceilings. He wondered if they were in a palace for a second. The pillars were carved into statues and the whole store was sparkling. The huge crystal chandelier hung above him and he had to take a moment to admire it. He had never been in a place of such refinement before; Fionn's castle could not compare to this one bit. Was that a crest with a dragon made of pure gold?
A man dressed in a suit approached the pair and Diarmuid eyed him carefully. "Hello." The man looked the pair over, a frown settling on his youthful face. "Are you lost, perchance?"
Artoria shook her head. "I need some clothes for my friend here. Semi-formal and casual could work." She glanced over Diarmuid. "A few dress pants and maybe two pairs of casual pants? T-shirts are fine, but include a turtleneck sweater, those seem pretty fashionable nowadays. A wool jacket would also be a nice touch. Well, you're the expert, I can leave it up to you." Artoria wasn't a fashion icon or anything, but after being in the public eye for more than twenty years, her parents had drilled it in her mind that she needed to always look presentable and god forbid if she hung around people that weren't presentable.
"Sorry, miss, but, are you sure you can afford Camelot?" The man raised an eyebrow, the look on his face clearly told her he was judging them.
Artoria pulled out her identification. "I'll pretend you didn't just ask that."
The man had seen just a glimpse of Arturia's card and immediately his cheeks blossomed red. "F-forgive me, Miss Pendragon." He bowed. "I'll prepare what you ask for right away."
"You have a natural air of regency, it's quite befitting of you, mas—Artoria," Diarmuid stated.
"Why, thank you, my parents made sure I never seemed anything less," she replied as she slipped her card back into her wallet. "Now, go on and follow the man, he'll help you pick out some clothes."
Diarmuid looked down at her for a second and smiled. "Thank you, you are much too kind, Artoria."
She returned the smile before they both walked towards the young man, who had already prepared a few outfits. The man asked to take some of Diarmuid's measurements and after Artoria agreed, the man pulled out a measuring tape and collected a few measurements before heading off to get the right sizes. Artoria took a seat on one of the red velvet armchairs that was placed right in front of a changeroom and after that Diarmuid was ushered inside with a few outfits. With that the small fashion show began.
Artoria had approved of most outfits. She made sure the colours were muted and matched him well. Artoria watched as Diarmuid looked at himself in the mirror; he wore black dress pants, a green turtleneck and a long black wool jacket that fell to about his knees. If he had been born in the modern age, there was no doubt in Artoria's mind that he'd be a model. A funny thought popped in her mind; posters of him sporting the latest Camelot collections up all over the city, it was an interesting thought to say the least.
Diarmuid had helped Artoria take the pile of clothes to the counter, where the young man had checked them out and bagged all the items. Diarmuid had wondered if Artoria was alright with spending so much money, but seeing that Artoria had no hesitation in inserting the card, he assumed she didn't care.
"My sincerest gratitude, Artoria." He almost bowed if it weren't for the fact that he recalled her nagging voice. "Your generosity will always be admired."
Artoria sighed, "You don't have to be so dramatic." She rolled her green eyes.
"I've never before received such gifts from a master, and I am honoured beyond words that you would even think to get me anything, much less these finely crafted clothes. In my time it was a huge act of honour to have a master give you anything."
She could see the glee in the glint of his eyes and decided to simply accept his gratitude. "Well." She set her hand on his shoulder. "You're welcome, but it really isn't much."
"Anything is enough." He smiled at her.
"We should go and get some pictures for a passport," she said as she took her hand back. "I'll have to call a friend of mine, they might be able to help us to get you some papers, the hard part would be getting my passport from my house..."
"If we must break in, I could do it without being detected," Diarmuid offered.
"My passport is in a safe and my mother hides the key in her jewelry drawer, which she keeps highly guarded, I would have to come along with you. Plus, I have to pack a little more now that we'll be going abroad," Artoria explained as she pulled out her flip phone. "Let's get some pictures of you first, and then we'll have to go to my place after we pick up the sword, of course."
Diarmuid nodded in approval.
After having taken some passport photos for Diarmuid, Artoria took the prints and placed them in her wallet,making sure she wouldn't misplace them. The pictures came out looking good, and she was happy with the result. For a second, she had the urge to take one last look at the pictures, she stared at one of them; one that the photographer had asked Diarmuid to smile, which ended up looking like he was confused or nervous. She chuckled to herself thinking about how oddly normal he looked; as if they weren't getting ready to die. Another thought crossed her mind, would all traces of him disappear once the war was over?
"I still find it quite amusing how instantaneous these portraits are." Diarmuid's voice had snapped her out of her thoughts. "Truly fascinating, don't you agree, master?"
"I guess." She shoved the pictures back into her wallet. "Anyways, we should be getting my own passport."
"Of course, master," Diarmuid replied.
______
"Give me a boost," Artoria instructed.
They were just outside of Artoria's house, next to the two meter stone wall that encased her property. It was nighttime now, and they were hidden by the blanket of the dark, cold night. Plus, Artoria knew where the blind spots of the cameras were, they'd always been a great help when she was sneaking back home past curfew (sometimes her parents gave her an unreasonable curfew of nine).
"Come on now, help me up," Artoria repeated. She was starting to get anxious of potentially encountering her parents inside while she was collecting her things. The thought of seeing her mother's heartbroken eyes terrified her.
Diarmuid nodded and instead of crouching and offering his hands for her to step on, as she had thought, he picked her up princess style, as if she weighed nothing more than a rag doll, and jumped. The power of the jump caused a short but strong burst of wind to ruffle the trees and rose bushes and less than a second later, they were at the other side of the wall. Artoria was shocked for a few seconds as he gently placed her back on the ground.
"You could've just helped me onto the wall, you know?" She shook the dead leaves from her hair.
"I wanted to ensure your safe landing, master," Diarmuid answered, a bit bewildered by her statement, as if it were obvious. "Especially given your injuries."
"Just... don't do that again, unless it's absolutely necessary," she sighed. "Makes me feel useless," she muttered under her breath but she was loud enough that he heard her.
"My sincerest apologies, master, it was not my intention. I meant no harm whatsoever." He fell down to one knee.
Artoria groaned. "Stop grovelling. I get it, get up."
"Forgive me," he said as he hesitantly but slowly stood from the floor.
"Stop apologizing! It's starting to get annoying," she nearly barked.
"I-yes, master." Diarmuid hid his shock and tried to remain as indifferent as possible.
Artoria sighed as she looked at him. She turned towards the house, trying to dismiss the small argument but something told her to apologize, most likely her conscience. "Hey." She looked back at him.
Immediately he looked at her. His amber eyes clearly filled with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry I snapped. I'm just..." Her heart was pounding in her chest as the thought of her parents came back. "I'm just...scared to see my parents, I guess. Which is no excuse to have been so rude, I'm sorry."
He knitted his brows and tilted his head. "You did nothing wrong, master. I was the one out of line."
"I appreciate you downplaying the situation, but you shouldn't say that," she gave him a look, "I was in the wrong and I appreciate your humility, but I don't want blind loyalty. I want to be a master you are proud to serve." Did they have to have this conversation as they were breaking into her own home? Probably not, but it was never a good idea to leave bad emotions simmering.
A smile brightened Diarmuid's face. "Thank you for the apology master, I am more than proud to be called your servant," he smiled.
Artoria smiled in return and nodded. "Now," she said as she turned back to the house, "let's get what we came for."
Artoria led Diarmuid through the maze that was the gardens and up a stone staircase until they reached the back door of the house. Artoria tried the knob and was thankful that her parents never locked the back door. She slipped inside and instructed Diarmuid to retrieve her passport, as she knew he would be much more stealthy than she was.
Artoria and Diarmuid parted ways at the top of the stairs and he went off to her parents bedroom while she carefully stepped towards her own bedroom. Once Artoria opened the door to her room, Aithusa ran up to her, causing a slight commotion. Artoria had to stop the dog by petting her and ushering her out of the room before closing her door behind herself. Although she wanted to spend more time with her dog, she was back at home for one thing only.
"Sweetie, is that you?" Artoria had not planned on seeing her mother on her bed.
She froze as her mother flicked on the bedside lamp, filling the room with a bit of light.
"Oh, honey!" Igraine cried as she stood from the bed and wasted no time in running to her daughter and wrapping her into a tight hug.
The suffocating embrace of Igraine was enough to draw the breath from Artoria's lungs and Artoria had to fight her mother, pushing her away as best she could. Artoria gasped in the sweet air as Igraine pulled away.
"Where have you been, honey? Your father and I were worried sick," Igraine sighed in relief. She took a hold of Artoria's hands and brought them to her heart. "Oh my sweet child."
"Mother, please," Artoria sternly spoke.
Igraine brought Artoria's hands up to her lips despite her daughter's protests, which was when she saw the red marks on the back of her hand. "What...?" Her voice faded for a second before she looked into her daughter's eyes with horror. "No," Igraine huffed, eyes glazed over with fresh tears and already becoming red. "No. No!" She threw Artoria's hands. "You can't be doing this to me, Artoria!" The fury in her eyes caused Artoria to step back.
Igraine had seen the footage of the security cameras the night Artoria disappeared and she had already seen that Artoria had become a master, but seeing it with her own eyes caused the rage to bubble over.
"Why did you erase my memories?" Artoria countered.
Igraine's jaw fell. "What? How much do you know?" Her voice was loud and accusatory, it would be enough to alert anyone else in the house. "What are you even thinking?!"
"What happened to Arthur?" Artoria pressured.
Igraine took a step back, the shock nearly knocking her down. "Who's telling you these things?" She asked, the tears slipping from her eyes.
Artoria took a step towards her mother. "Why were you hiding this from me? Why didn't you tell me we are a family of magic?"
Igraine shook her head ferociously. "No! Uther said you would forget this. Why? Why are you part of the war?"
Diarmuid appeared next to Artoria, towering over her before taking a defensive stand in front of his master. Artoria gently pushed him aside before approaching her mother.
"Honey, don't do this! Please. Leave this war behind, renounce your servant; you don't know what you're getting yourself into," Igraine reasoned.
Artoria shook her head. "I will win this war whether you and father like it or not."
Igraine gently approached her daughter, barely sparing a glance to the man. "Please, forefit, I don't want to loose you too for some stupid legacy." Slowly, she landed a loving hand on Artoria's cheek. "Please, honey, please," she begged in desperation, the tears falling from her eyes like endless waterfalls.
Artoria tore her mother's hand away.
"Someone just arrived," Diarmuid informed.
Artoria glared at her mother. "Is that father?" She asked.
Igraine looked away, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Diarmuid's swords materialized in his hands just as Uther reached the doorway of Artoria's room. Artoria took Diarmuid's arm, indicating to him there was no threat and he could put the weapons away. Reluctantly, Diarmuid dematerialized the swords.
"You've finally come home," Uther spoke, eyeing Artoria's servant before looking at his daughter. "Have you come to kill us?"
Artoria scoffed as she rolled her eyes. "As if I'd kill my own parents."
Uther walked to Igraine and held her, making sure she was alright before turning back to his daughter. "You've always been rather stubborn. There's nothing we can say to stop you, is there?"
"No," Artoria deadpanned. "I will win this war and only then will I know what truly happened to Arthur."
"Why fight in the war when you can ask us anything and we'll answer you?" Uther furrowed his brows.
Artoria crossed her arms over her chest. "How can I trust you when you've lied to me my whole life?"
Uther pulled out a small black leather booklet that had a rectangular paper placed between the pages. "We lied to protect you, but seeing as you won't stop..." He extended his hand out to her, offering Artoria the booklet. "Here."
"What are you doing, Uther?" Igraine protested as she tried to take the booklet from his hands but was stopped by him.
Artoria eyed the booklet before she took it, noticing it was a passport. She opened it and saw Diarmuid's picture. She was surprised to see two tickets enclosed, immediately she looked back up at her father, quite confused.
"It wasn't hard to find where you used your card and for what," he paused. "We love you, Artoria, we've always loved you, but I understand if you hate us. I always knew this day would come, when our demons catch up to us." He bitterly smiled. "Be careful out there."
"What are you saying to her, Uther? You can't just let her go? She'll die!" Igraine yelled, pushing Uther away.
"This is her fight, we can't stop her, Igraine." Uther held Igraine by the arms, stopping her and containing her so she wouldn't try to stop Artoria. Igraine was a sobbing mess, the tears were running down her face and her cries were growing louder as she shook and tried to break from Uther's grip.
Artoria didn't like seeing her mother like that, so she turned away and walked to her closet, grabbed a suitcase and began throwing clothes into it. The cries of her mother were becoming haunting and Artoria tried to bite back tears.
"I can't bury my baby! I can't do it again!" Igraine shouted, her voice cracking just as Artoria zipped up her bag after having placed her sword inside. She walked past her parents without so much as a goodbye. The last she saw of her mother before her departure to Fuyuki was Igraine sobbing on the floor as Uther held her close.
Artoria couldn't forgive herself for leaving her mother a heartbroken shell of a woman. Not even as she left the house with Diarmuid in her trail. Not even as they rode to the airport. Not even as they made it through customs. She would probably never forgive herself.