hadriel_logs | two knights walk into a bar

Entry tags:

henry percy,
saber

two knights walk into a bar

Who: Saber/

sheathes + Henry/

hotspurred
What: Henry discovers there ain't no party like a Camelot party.
Where: Speakeasy.
When: Post-fire/pre-paintball. The 19th?
Warnings: ~~Depends on what they discuss, but I can't imagine it'll be too bad.~~ Talking about Saber's complete lack of sex life, whoops.

[ The mirrors, then the fire — not to mention everything that came before: it seems all of her conversations with Henry are doomed to revolve around one disaster or another, or some part of their role as guards. And while such things are common for knights, they are not everything. Even Saber knows that. The two of them are comrades, but also friends, and should be able to act the part. There is more to them than their armour and sword.

So, when nothing seems to be blowing up (rare) and neither of them are on duty (rarer), she sends Henry a message, requesting his company at the Speakeasy. She's there often enough, on the occasions she allows herself downtime, nursing some beverage that seems far too strong for someone of her size. Today is no exception, and she lifts her bottle in greeting when she sees him, tucked away in a corner towards the back of the establishment. Privacy was rare enough as king that she values it heavily now. ]

Sir Henry. It is good of you to join me. [ She waves a hand towards the bar, indicating he should get a drink of his own. ] Please. After all that has happened, I would see you relax.

[ It's amazing she knows what the word means tbh. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[After all that has occurred of recent, Henry is long overdue respite. He doesn't make a habit of drinking heavily often — the last time might well have been following his resurrection, and that had been against his usual rule — never drink alone out of misery.

Tonight isn't about misery, though. He means to his forget his troubles for a time and enjoy good company.]

I fully intend to.

[He tells Saber, before heading off to grab his own medicine. The Speakeasy certainly isn't Delight's bar, but even if the drinks aren't fine, they can be counted on to be robust.

Henry soon returns and takes a seat, immediately taking a big swig of his drink. He then huffs a short laugh and raises his eyebrows at it. That's potent stuff.]

Why did mine and Maketh's home go up in flames, where other apartments were spared? That is a question I asked myself. Now I realise that she must have kept a hidden stash of Rey's brews.

[He remarks dryly.]

I hope I did not keep you waiting long, Sir Saber.

Time is a fickle thing. I did not notice its passing.

[ She wasn't here long, anyway. Saber takes another swig of her own drink, somehow without reaction. No doubt she would seem drunk already if not for her unaffected speech and gesturing. ]

But the guard remains in good hands, I see. [ She laughs — then looks surprised at her own reaction. It isn't the drink lowering her guard, but the company. ] Perhaps we should drink through the entire supply here, to ensure no fire can destroy this place. It would be a feat worthy of song.

[He smiles to hear her laugh, and amusement lights his eyes at her resulting surprise. Apparently he is not the only one who has been a stranger to relaxation of late.]

An ambitious defence. But let none dare say that we neglect our duty.

[He raises his drink in a mock toast.]

To our bold sacrifice! We offer up our sobriety to preserve this city.

To our sacrifice. [ Saber agrees, lifting her own with a smile. ] And to Britain.

[ She misses home terribly, but it's not meant to drag down the mood. Their shared homeland should be seen as a gift, the chance of finding a countryman among so many other worlds and homes so slim it seems a miracle. ]

My own apartment was spared the worst. A fortunate occurrence, of course, but... had some of the new furniture perished, I would not have mourned it. [ She laughs again. ] No, but I should not wish for such a thing. Strange as it is, those objects bring happiness to Irisviel. It is a harmless indulgence.

[ Just a godless one. ]

[Henry tips back more drink. Fortunately he's done swallowing when Saber speaks next, because he almost sputters and the reminder. He clears his throat.]

She has peculiar tastes, that one. But if that ghastly furniture makes Irisviel happy, who indeed has the right to deny her that joy?

[And good luck to anyone who tried, with Saber there to defend her Lady's happiness.]

...She has offered to supply my apartment with her finds once it is cleaned out. Maketh and I could claim a new place, but we have lived there together a year. I have lived there since my arrival. Before we were family, Maketh and I first became friends within its walls.

[And Henry, who lives and feels fiercely, is deeply sentimental beneath his sharp edges and mistrust. So he's actually considering it.]

God help me, but I do not wish to move.

Then it seems we must both suffer. [ It would be a rude thing to say, if not for the overwhelming fondness in her voice. ] But there are a few pieces I will encourage her to send. They are the most... interesting to look at.

[ Yeah, she's gonna make Henry take the weirder ones. That's her right as king, surely. ]

If your friendship with Maketh can survive such a thing, then it is truly strong. Though, if you are family, then it must already be so. [ She gives him a look of genuine happiness. ] I am pleased to know you have found such a thing here.

[Must you, Saber? Henry momentarily narrows his eyes, then huffs. Fortunately talking about Maketh is a good distraction, and his attention shifts away from protesting.]

She is my sworn sister.

[He says it with obvious platonic love, a rare warmth that family brings out in him.]

We have been through much together. Hitherto this wretched city would have been a desolate place without her company.

[Henry looks Saber directly in the eyes. Perhaps it is presumptuous to ask it of the Once and Future King, but Hotspur has never feared to be bold.

He may not have actually known Saber long but he trusts her implicitly.]

Treat her as my kin. Defend her, my lord, if I cannot. Even... [he pauses, then corrects his choice of word firmly] especially from herself.

[Because Maketh is a good woman moulded by a tyranny. He knows better than most how she struggles against her darker instincts, and how self-destructive she can be. And he believes with all of his heart that she is so much more than what the Empire made her.]

I understand.

[ Her shoulders straighten as she meets Henry's gaze. Though he is not here, she imagines Kay might brighten this place in the same way. She would like to say she feels the same about Irisviel, but — there is something else. Something she didn't feel for any of her knights, something she can't compare to her foster brother. There had only been one other, and she had ignored that to the point of a constant aching in her chest; always a king before she was ever a husband to her wife. ]

I will do all that I can for her — though my efforts could never hope to match yours. [ She isn't being modest. Family, by blood or by oath, is a tighter bond than even between knight and king. ] I would ask the same of you for Irisviel. She is my most treasured companion in this age... indeed, one of the greatest across any of them. And though I would not have wished this place upon her, I am blessed to share in her company.

[ The more she talks, the more her expression softens. She takes another drink — long enough to finish the bottle — then reaches for another beside it on the table. There are several bottles lined up, some the same, some different. It's clear she isn't here for a quiet night. ]

Gladly.

[He swears, but his expression then shifts into one half-fond, half-exasperated. He downs the rest of his drink, eyes her considerable — even excessive — reserve, then gets up. Quickly gesturing one moment, he heads back to the bar and returns with reinforcement for himself. Clearly the aim tonight is to get properly wankered.

He sits down, lays out his drinks, then smacks a palm on the table.]

Saber. [He says resolutely, leaning forward.] Surely you must see that you are in love with Irisviel.

[ Saber flinches — not from the smacking of his palm, but from his words. Feeling the tips of her ears turn red, she reaches for another bottle, though only to hold for now. ]

... Your accusation is impossible, Henry. I am a king. Such feelings are not permitted to me.

[ Love for her country, yes, but not towards one person. The fact she sees it as an accusation says enough. ]

I would protect her, and gladly so. However... even here, she could be better served by another. I am sure of it.

[ She drinks before the lack of denial can sink in. It's more honest than she's been even with herself; any stray thoughts discarded rather than considered. ]

[Henry huffs, giving his head a little shake. How can she be so willing to pass Irisviel off?]

I speak as a friend. That you do not allow yourself to express them shall not make your feelings for her disappear. They shine in your words and deeds despite your protest.

[He wraps a hand around his drink and taps his fingers against the glass.]

So please, explain to me how they interfere with your kingly duties. Why even cling to a supposed kingly concern when you are intent upon unmaking your royal standing?

Even if I was not suitable for the role, I was entrusted with it. Until another draws the sword in my place...

[ She is still king, still shoulders the same responsibilities she always has. She sighs — it's a difficult topic, though she seems to take no offense to discussing it, despite her embarrassment. ]

I gave my everything to Britain. [ And still does now, so far away, even when her country has changed so much. ] A king should not love one person above all else. He must take a wife, of course — the people expect as much, though there could be no heir in my case. But my judgment could not be compromised for even a moment. Duty comes before all else.

[ Henry knows her legend. She doesn't have to spell it out for him. ]

[Henry takes a drink, reclining back.]

You say it yourself: you gave your everything. Your legend is birthed, your live lived. This is not Britain's dire need, the hour of your prophesied return. This is not the war that you came from. For all Hadriel is our prison, within it you have a brief opportunity to be a person too. Do not waste that chance, Saber.

[He just doesn't get her insistence on denying herself humanity. He takes another sip to cool his simmering frustration.]

Have you considered how Irisviel feels for you?

She sees me as a friend. [ Even after she failed. She'd been the one to destroy the Holy Grail — no longer Irisviel, by that point, but the the last trace of her left in the world. ] Whether I am worthy of such a thing, I do not know, but I cherish it regardless.

[ Her words are completely serious. She values nothing here more than Irisviel's friendship, and the thought of those feelings being something different has never once entered her mind. Whatever happened with Kiritsugu, she can't offer that same happiness. A king can only bring others happiness through deeds and protection, not presence alone. ]

I would not dare to jeopardize that, Henry. And though this is not Britain, nor England, I must not falter. [ She can feel the colour progressing past the tips of her ears, now, creeping onto her cheeks, and she drinks to hide it. ] T... though I am not saying you are correct in your accusation. [ Yeah, how dare he accuse you of having feelings. ]

...Ah. I see.

[He says, with a pitying look. It's hard to remember, sometimes, that obliviousness was a weakness of King Arthur's when faced with Saber, usually so thoughtful and focused, sharp in her attention to detail.]

Of course not.

[It's hard to miss the sheer amount of sarcasm he puts into those words. Henry swigs his drink, then cocks his head.]

So... let us say that when you go home this eve, you walk through your front door and find Irisviel has waited up for you. She wears naught but a thin chemise, and her hips sway as she comes over to greet you. 'Saber! You are finally home,' she calls, a sweet smile blooming on her face. Tucking a lock of her pale hair behind her ear, she flutters her long eyelashes and continues, 'Will you come to bed?'

[He pauses, the let her consider that scenario, then adds:]

How would you respond?

[ Saber finds herself picturing what he describes — and by the end, her expression is more troubled than flustered, though the blush from before lingers. She considers the image for a moment, but her answer comes too quickly to be anything but honest. ]

... I would offer her my jacket, of course, so she would not be cold. [ Irisviel is slightly taller than her tiny self, but not enough to make the idea a difficult one. ] There is little enough warmth in this cave. It would be impractical to wear something so slight.

[ Satisfied, she gives Henry a confused look. ]

But that is a rather strange question. Surely you do not doubt my ability to care for my lady. [ Does he think she'd let Irisviel freeze? ]

[Henry sighs heavily.]

Some needs I begin to wonder if you grasp.

[That answer alone necessitates another sip. But maybe it's because she is stuck on the idea of friendship.]

All right. What if it were not Irisviel, but your Guinevere?

[ She looks troubled, for a moment — not because of Guinevere, but because she feels like she's missing something. But she still has only one answer to give. ]

The same. Camelot, for all her strong walls, could be draughty at times. [ Her eyebrows furrow. ] I do not understand the point of this exercise, Henry.

[He stares, then frowns and parts his lips, speechless for a moment.]

Saber... verily, you must have—

[He cuts himself off, with a brief, incredulous laugh. I mean yes, she admitted once that she had difficulty with such things, but...

He can't believe that he's genuinely uttering his next words.]

Did you bed your wife? Even but once?

[ Saber looks mildly offended at his laugh, because she genuinely has no idea what he's laughing at. She doesn't immediately connect his question with the earlier scenarios, instead seeming confused, hesitating briefly before she answers. ]

... Without the ability to produce an heir, there was no need to... that is, I could not give her what she surely desired.

[ Nevermind that Guinevere loved her anyway, and was only saddened by the forced distance between them. Though embarrassed, she smiles softly, taps a finger against the bottle in front of her. ]

She was a beautiful, joyous woman, who bore the burden of my secret with dignity and grace. I could ask for no more than what she gave me. [ Closing her eyes briefly, she looks like a teenager with a crush, not a king married for years. ] The fault lay with me alone. Though I valued her happiness, I could so rarely contribute to it. I admit, such things still trouble me.

[ Gee, what might have helped with that? ]

[Saber's words makes his heart ache; Henry knows what it is to love someone and lose the chance to have them. The worst part is that Saber could have — the only obstacle sounds like herself.

He tips back the last of his current drink. This is just depressing.

There is only one way to know for certain, of course, and he does so in his typically blunt way.]

Did you ask her of her desires?

No. But... she felt nothing of the sort, I am sure of it. [ But then, she's convinced the same applies to Irisviel, so her word is hardly reliable when it comes to this. ] My body is that of a king, a tool of the country. It is not desirable in an... an intimate sense.

[ Her enemies feared her because she did not age; her knights lauded their eternally youthful, handsome king. But she feels too unfeminine, too muscular, to be attractive as a woman, and equally unable to truly be a husband to her wife.

Frowning, she takes another drink. ]

Guinevere carried a far greater burden than I. The blame for the kingdom being without an heir fell to her. [ A barren wife, unable to provide for the king. ] Such a thing could not have helped.

[ Because it might have been fun, and Saber has no fucking idea what that means. ]

Jesu, Saber!

[Henry exclaims in exasperation, before pushing a hand through his hair.]

You could have talked to your wife and ascribed a modicum of value to her opinion.

[No wonder Guinevere turned to Lancelot, if he was the only one who paid her attention and actually engaged her.]

Make not the same mistake with Irisviel.

Henry. [ She says, suddenly firm. ] Guinevere was my closest friend and confidant. Her opinions held no less worth than any who served on my Round Table.

[ But therein lies the problem of treating her subjects equally. Never did she treat Guinevere like her wife instead of just a close friend, a close ally. Never did she allow herself to be anything but impartial. ]

It is much the same with Irisviel. Anything she asked of me, I would gladly do. [ Bringing the bottle to her mouth, she frowns. ] But as I have said... her feelings for me are not of such a nature.

[If Saber cannot see a distinction between a wife and a knight, it's futile to argue, but he does scoff.]

No. You have deemed that they are not. Perhaps we ought to ask her.

[He challenges, moving a hand. But rather than reach for his phone, he pushes a full bottle at Saber, then drags one before him. Nodding sharply at her, he states:]

The last one to finish loses. The winner sets the forfeit.

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