author's note
I wrote this like a year ago... I didn't have a story to incorporate it in and didn't want to make a new one so tada!
hope you like it, snakes.
Sincerely,
Ms. Atomicbomb
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Day 15: In a different clothing style
It was not usual to find this certain lady in a dress, no, in fact; it was near impossible. Though, only when the circumstances were right, and the planets aligned, you could possibly find her in a dress. This situation, however, allowed anyone who might have imagined—or dare I say, fantasized—about seeing her in a dress have every opportunity. Except, she did not look like herself.
Usually, she used to be clad in all black, her golden hair pulled back into a pony tail and black gloves shielding her pale skin from any possibility of being identified. Her demeanour was nothing short of perfection.
Today, however, she wore a blue gown, tied tightly so as to fit her torso exquisitely—except! She had little to no body to demonstrate or show off. She lacked breast development and whatever could be considered for her having a 'curve' on her waist: she was a block, and rightly so, but never did she mind. She was had not even a shred of vanity in her being.
The extravagant dress had a billion layers of petticoats and skirts. Puffed sleeves gave the illusion of Cinderella's dress while gold lace and sparkles decorated the dress intricately. Her hair was curled into a half-up, half-down hairdo while her lips were painted red. She looked wildly different, not an inch like herself. In fact, one could even compare her to a porcelain doll, so pretty and oh so delicate.
"How do women even breathe in this?" She mumbled to herself as she weaved herself through the crowd, holding a hand to her side while wishing to pry off the tight corset.
The benefit, she would admit, was that these dresses could hide many weapons under the heaps of folds and skirts. She deemed that that was the only benefit, really.
"Are you alright, miss?" She wouldn't deny it was directed to her, which other lady was fumbling over in her heels and nearly suffocating to death?
Her head turned, not urged, "Of course," she smiled. The perfect black suit was heavenly fitted to a handsome man.
____
"This one should be simple." She blinked as her dull green eyes flickered from a photograph to a set of revolvers.
The dark-haired man sighed, "He is notorious for being a ladies' man; a complete charmer; I wouldn't want you to let your eyes linger on him. He must be eliminated, you can't fall for his charm."
"Master," she acknowledged, nodding her head in compliance, "may I ask why he is of importance?" Her lifeless eyes made contact with pitch black ones, which seemed to suck in any living thing into the void that were the man's pupils.
The man stood from his seat, his black coat following in the graceful movement. He picked up his pipe, filling it with tobacco and letting his fingers play with it before lighting it, "It is not that I would like to kill him, per se, but if we do... it would hinder the uprising of the El-Meloi family."
"If it is so my place, master, why him?"
"Need I command you, Pendragon?" The monotone voice held a tone of annoyance for just a short second before it disappeared, "Though, you must seduce him; it would be the only way he could gain your trust, just do not immediately through yourself at him, I have a feeling he likes a challenge."
___
Arturia was certain he was the most—undeniably—handsome man in the world and if not, then the most handsome she had been assigned to take out, "Why, in fact, I'm feeling swell."
"A pleasure to hear." He gave her a small smile, then turned towards the window, "You seem to be one that does not usually wear dresses."
Her brows furrowed just as she had picked up some finger food from a butler, "Why would you come to that conclusion?" She asked before shoving the pig-in-a-blanket into her mouth.
He gave her a chuckle, her cheeks puffed up as she chewed, "You do not attend many social functions either, do you?"
She gulped her delicious food down and then frowned, "You did not answer my question, I asked first."
He gave another chuckle, shaking his head slightly before lifting his eyes to view hers again, "I mean to say this with the utmost respect, my lady. The way you step proves you barely ever walk in heels, you had just complained about the tight dress and what gives you away the most, my lady, would have to be the fact you picked up a fattening snack."
She gave a bewildered look, drawing a hand to her chest, "Excuse me," she blinked, "are women not allowed to eat the food?" Her other hand tightened around the skirt of the dress, her features hardening.
"My lady," he too held a hand to his chest as he bowed, "I meant no single offence against you. It is simply a statement. In fact, it is rather refreshing to see someone that is not following the social pressures of a ball."
She gave him an even look, "I never overlook good food—pardon me, I must correct myself; food, in general."
"A lady with her priorities straight is always a delightful sight."
She cracked a thin smile, "Saber," she extended her white gloved hand.
"Lancer," he introduced himself, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips to plant a soft and gentle kiss.
She smiled up at him, "Now, I am not aware—as you have come to know—of how social functions properly work, would you mind giving me a few pointers? My master failed to teach me before he sent me as his representative."
"It would be my pleasure, milady." He offered her a warm smile, as well as his arm so that she might hook her own around his.
She did surely that.
"Let's begin with the essentials." He commenced walking, guiding her through the crowd, "A lady never eats fattening foods in public."
"That is an absurd rule, sir," she grumbled.
"That takes me to my number one advice in order to get past this rule," he grinned, "you need a partner."
"What do you mean by that?" She tilted her head up towards him.
He glanced at her slightly before turning to meet what seemed to be someone he was acquainted with.
"Diarmuid!" A man smirked, lady in his arms, "It is such a pleasure to see you here today."
"The pleasure is all mine, Sir Fionn." The honey-eyed man returned the warm gesture.
The woman in the blond man's arm had her eyes sparkling up at Lancer, "You are looking as handsome as ever," she complimented whilst he thanked her. Her chestnut gaze dropped down to Arturia, who stood silently. Her eyes narrowed, "Who might this be?"
"Oh! Forgive my forgetfulness." Lancer nodded, his hand landing atop Arturia's, "This is my company tonight. I would be delighted to introduce you to the beautiful and charming Saber."
She immediately looked up at him, bewildered indeed. The chandelier light behind him illuminated his head like a halo, "Hmm?" She hummed, confused by his claim.
"Really?" The female frowned.
The blond man, however, was grinning brightly, "I am nothing but ecstatic to see you with someone so lovely." He quickly offered to take her hand.
Arturia played the part, forcing a smile and letting the blue-eyed man kiss the back of her hand.
"You must be a keeper, this is the first time he arrives with a guest." The man whispered not so subtly over to her.
Arturia wasn't one to giggle but she needed to sell this, thus she did. It clearly did not come ladylike, at all.
She noticed the grimace that was shot her way by the brunette, something below the deep dark eyes of the girl caused a shiver to run down Arturia's back, as if there was a fleeting mouse down her spine.
Diarmuid had reached over to his left where Arturia could see—with the corner of her eyes—that he took hold of two pigs in a blanket. She tried her best not to reach out as well, gripping the arm of the man tightly.
"Here, love," he handed her one of the Hors D'oeuvres, "I insist."
She gave a small smile, "Oh, I really..." She furrowed her brows.
He then gave her a soft smile, inviting her to take the snack, "Sweetheart," he held the snack lightly in front of her still.
The man before them gave a chuckle, "You two are simply adorable." He grinned.
Arturia nervously laughed as she took the snack from her 'chaperone's' hand, "Thank you, love."
They chatted a while longer with the two others before they were left to themselves.
"Who's your master?" He asked as they continued to walk through the ball room.
Arturia looked up at him, "My master? He is an Einzbern."
"An Einzbern?" Lancer slipped his arm from hers and bowed. "I do apologize for not properly greeting you. You must be the guest of honour, my lady."
"Oh," she brought a hand to him, lifting him from his bow, "there's no need to do that. I wished to keep a low profile, I really don't want everyone to treat me differently. Plus, my master thinks it's delightful to put me under a spot light."
"Of course, he would, you are a sight to behold. The true definition of beauty." Lancer's eyes could have twinkled, but she wasn't so certain.
"There's no need to flatter me, Lancer," she smiled. Taking deep breaths, she looked about. "I...I need fresh air," she looked over at him.
His face twisted in worry and he took her hand, his free hand supporting her back. "Would you like to go to the courtyard? I'll take you. Is the corset too tight? Should I call a maid?"
Steadying her breaths, she shook her head, "I think...the courtyard should be alright."
"Of course, right away." He cleared the way for them as he led her towards the French doors at the back of the ballroom. They walked to the balcony and he led her down the stone stairs towards the hedge maze and flower beds. "Is this better? Was the air stuffy inside?"
Slowly, she nodded. "Yes, I felt lightheaded, what with all the noise and the people..."
"I'm glad to hear you're able to breathe properly now. Here, take a seat," he offered her, helping her sit herself on the edge of the fountain.
"Thank you, you are ever so kind," she smiled up at him, her breathing levelling to a normal, healthy rhythm.
"I should find a chaperone. I wouldn't want people thinking...Your integrity...I, uhm, I'll be right—"
"Fret not," she patted the seat next to herself, "you need not worry about that. I am not planning to marry anyone, ever."
Lancer looked down at her, running a hand through his dark styled hair and he seemed to weigh his options. "I really..."
"Are you to wed soon? The lady in Fionn's arms seemed to take quite a liking to you...Are you two...?"
His face splashed with colour. "Oh no! No, of course not! She is to marry Fionn, and I would never wish it otherwise. I would rather die than betray my friends."
"Forgive me," she apologized, looking away, "I thought..."
"It's completely alright, lady Saber." Finally, he took a seat next to her. "I also plan not to marry...not anytime soon, at least."
Aruria nodded. "We are more a like than we care to think."
"Hm?" He glanced over at her, her comment giving him the impression she knew him.
"I mean to say we share a quality, maybe more..." And with the look in his eyes, she thought for a moment that she wouldn't be able to bring herself to kill him. He was much too kind and a true gentleman; one she had never encountered with all the other man she had killed before.
He laughed. "You seem serious, it frightened me a little, to be honest with you."
Smiling at him, she shrugged her shoulders and leaned slightly to grab the revolver from the straps around her calve. He didn't see the action anymore than her fixing her dress or probably shoe.
"You are a very lovely woman, miss Pendragon."
She pulled out the revolver once he said her name and he wasn't surprised when she pointed it at him. "How?"
"Why do you think I'm here? I didn't exactly recognize you earlier, I must admit, but in the moonlight, I could tell."
She stood and made sure he did not so much as budge. "Are you prepared?"
Lancer sighed, looking up at the sky. "I met you once before," he spoke, "a long time ago now, many years ago. That's when I knew what giving your life to a woman meant." He looked at her once more, honey eyes ever so solemn. "You saved a child that time, killing those men, helping the boy out of that...hell hole," he hissed, "I...It's the only reason I'm here now. To meet you."
She recalled that cold freezing night when she was just sixteen, on her third mission for Kiritsugu, when she was unstable and full of vengeance. When she held her hand out to a boy no older than fourteen and helped him out of the dog cage he was in. His beauty mark so distinguishing, his honey eyes so thankful, his tattered clothes hanging to his thin frame.
Slowly, Arturia lowered the gun. "It's you, isn't it?"
Nodding, Lancer stood. "Yes, and I wish to formally thank you. All I wished was to do that, to thank you before I died." Then he lifted her gun, pointing it at his heart. "Well, I'm ready now."
She shook her head rapidly, "No, I can't." Taking the gun back and slipping it into the straps on her legs she looked at him. "I cannot kill...I won't kill you."
Taking her hand, he kissed it and bowed at her. "I'd rather have you do it."
"Go," she advised, "go before my master finds out you're here. Go before..."
"El-Meloi won't stop, you should do it, Arturia."
The sound of crickets filled the night, twinkling stars above them and an ever so lovely glow of the moon.