arcanarumlogs | [COMPLETE] In Absinthia

Who: England, Saber
When: Monday, September 19, early afternoon
Where: around Queen of Cups (the potions store)
What: A loyal servant meets her lord, and a lord meets his loyal boss.
Warnings: probably pg, nothing bad except for gratuitous angst

It had occurred to England that morning that, although he had been on the island for a long time, he had done very little exploring. Usually when he tried to go out, his legs would carry him to the edge of the forest, and he would frantically pace back and forth in front of it, watching it longingly, before Prussia or someone else had to forcefully drag him away. Today, England wanted to focus on going somewhere else. He wanted to know if there were places on Arcanarum that could actually help him in his quest to get back home.

He found the shopping district on his own, and he explored the fresh market first. That reminded him of his home, so he lingered there for at least forty-five minutes before deciding he should move on. It was getting cooler, anyway, and it looked as though a lot of the people were thinking about packing up. The wind blew against England and he searched for a shop where he could go inside and take shelter.

What caught his interest first was a potions shop. Brilliant! It had been a while since he'd been able to use his own magic, but at least he could still mess around with spells. He smirked to himself in victory before heading inside.

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Saber had just opened up a whole new set of questions for England to consider. He paused for a moment, staring at her with an opened mouth, though he quickly closed it once he realized he was doing it. One did not want to look like a gaping fish, after all. It was incredibly rude.

"You're... a king?" England's heart leapt into his throat. He wanted to know where Saber came from, who she ruled over, if she was his king? "King Saber?"

"Yes, that is correct," Saber replied with a composed, regal bearing that was out of sorts with her current boyish appearance, of which her clothes were only a part of it. Arcanarum was already trying to change her, and even her iron will could only do so much.

"However," she continued, "That is merely the name I am known by as a Servant. Servants are known only by their class names to level the playing field, so to speak."

At this point it would be an affront to chivalry not to provide her actual name. "My true name is Arturia Pendragon."

"Pendragon," England mouthed. Arthur Pendragon. King Arthur. His beloved king, the man whose name England took for his own. His hands trembled as he lifted them and put them on Saber's shoulders. It was not something he usually did, but he was so astonished. He did not know if she was lying, though he knew he had felt a connection between them.

"Please tell me you speak the truth," he said pleadingly. He did not want to believe that this was a prank. After all, the girl seemed so honest, but one could never judge a book by its cover.

Saber was, admittedly, a little startled by the reaction, though she did nothing to shake off his grip. Was he one of her subjects, or someone who had been inspired by her legend? It couldn't have been the former: a subject would have doubtless been disturbed that the king was a mere little girl, in addition to having been deceived.

The latter, on the other hand... she had found her legend made her out to be much greater than she felt she truly was. How anyone could idolise a king who had failed 'his' country was a mystery.

"I do," she answered simply.

England, of course, had known King Arthur all of his life. As a man. But Prussia had been talking about the multiple universe theory. And if, in some other universe, King Arthur was a woman, then that did not matter to him. She was still his King.

After a few seconds of staring, England released Saber and dropped to one knee. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. "If you are who you say as you are, milady... My Lord... then it is my duty to protect you."

For her part, Saber was more puzzled than anything else. Was he a knight, then? For all her caution in concealing herself and remaining detached in order to rule as fairly as possible, she had at least known the names and faces of her knights. Was he then from a later time, after Britain had fallen?

"Are you a knight then, Sir Arthur?"

A knight. England finally smirked and raised his head to look at her. His amused look disguised the fact that he was still shaken; his eyes were glassy, as though he were about to cry. It was emotional for him. He only hoped that Saber would believe him when he told her who he was, because if she didn't, he would feel like a fool.

"I'm not a knight," he said as he studied her face. There were some similarities, he supposed, to the boy King he'd known. "I am known to some as Albion. Britain. The Land of Angels, Angeln. The country of England." He dropped his head again, letting out a silent sigh. Now he could only wait.

Of all the reactions that one might expect, Saber's differed in at least one way. While the initial shock was reflected in widened sea-green eyes and slightly open lips, that was replaced once that shock had passed with something else entirely.

It was an unmistakeable stricken expression of mixed grief and guilt.

A long moment of silence passed as Saber inwardly tortured herself, and she was as close to being on the verge of tears as the Servant ever was. "I... do not deserve your fealty, my lord," she said quietly. "I failed you.... I was not strong enough to save you."

It was a reaction England did not expect at all. He expected surprise, disbelief, joy. But guilt? He jumped to his feet and nervously tried to console her without touching her.

"W-what are you talking about?" he sputtered, hovering. "I'm here! I'm alright!"

[COMPLETE] In Absinthia

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