#Nebuchadnezzar ii | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

akampana · 10 months

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18. "we have just met and yet it feels like i have known you for a lifetime." - Nebuchadnezzar II x Artoria

Prompt: "we have just met, and yet it feels like I have known you for a lifetime. Pairings: Nebuchadnezzar II x Arturia Pendragon, slight GilArt Tags: Mild Angst

Confusion wasn’t what he wanted to see when he first opened his eyes. The feat of magic that his feet stood upon was named after his dynasty, after all, he expected a warm welcome. However, it was the only emotion that filled the silence as he materialized, awkwardly followed by a triumphant greeting from the young Master that called him here. He berated the humble magus, spouted proud statements urging her to prove to him she was worthy of his presence and then–

“See, Saber? I told you using you as a catalyst would get us someone strong!”

The king turned his head, smirking at his new Master’s praise. What sort of swordsman could have aided his passage here? A worthy rival, perhaps? Ha! He doubted it. A soldier? Another ruler?

A breath, as he took in her small figure, the torturous gentle line of her cheek. Somehow, his eyes knew her every edge, her every corner, her every nook and every curve. Somehow, he recognized the constellations dotted across her porcelain skin, wherever it peeked out from that regal, foreign dress. Somehow, his fingers remembered the softness of her hair, longed to run through those hay strands, and never had the chance.

Envy latched onto him like a predator, tearing its ugly teeth into his neck. The ghost of her scent flitted through his memories, while presently she stood just far enough out of his reach. It made no sense why she starved him of her touch now when his memory reveled in her. Why did she hesitate to run to him? Why deter from their reunion?

Emerald eyes more beautiful than anything he's ever seen locked onto his, bringing the king to his knees before their stormy sea. He sank into the sand, bowing his head as he’d never done before as the violent waves came upon him. He knew then, that it mattered no longer what accolades he’d earned, what crown sat on his head, what achievements he had below his belt. He was just a man; a man who wanted to hear her call his name and taste the sound of it on her lips. He wanted her. He needed her. He craved her like no one else before.

But why?

"Gil—"

His eyes snapped open as their lips touched. No, that wasn't…he wasn't…

Her rejection burned against his chest like wildfire. He didn’t even realize he’d crossed the room to meet her till he felt her armored fingers on his skin and the rush of air rapidly filling the space she created between them. Anger burned across his cheek, smearing his—not his— body with a small streak of red. Then there was a vaguely familiar blade at his chin, held up by one delicate hand as she swiped the other against what remained of his kiss.

"Give me one reason I should not send you back to the Throne, Gilgamesh!" swordswoman warned, rage—so familiar on her face—igniting her countenance such that even their Master's commands did not deter her.

As his heart continued to beat for her, crushing itself against its unwilling ribcage in its adamant longing, the Chaldean king finally understood. Against all laws and logic the avarice of this body seeped into his very soul. Every part, every sliver of his resurrected shell thirsted for everything she was and will be. It was like Gilgamesh's ghost was breathing down his neck, clawing at his throat with jealousy.

"My name is Nebuchadnezzar II," he worded carefully, watching those damning green eyes search for answers within his amber ones. He wondered if she’d find them. After all, here he stood, lost as a navigator on a cloudy night. His body told him she was the true way. That all roads led to her. That she was the light at the end of the long tunnel, but he didn’t know why.

“This form tells me I am a Caster, though without this masquerade, I would present myself as a Ruler. As King of Babylon, that class ought to have been more fitting, but I suppose I should not complain of the power a body from the Age of the Gods grants me,” he explained.

She tensed like a string pulled taught. The lines between her brows moved as she sought in him a lie. He wondered how it would feel to know her eyes in a gentler light, without mistrust or apprehension or even anger. He wanted to see in her gaze the kind of potent longing like that of his wife for her homeland. He wished for a day he was no longer at the sharper end of her sword.

Meanwhile, the shorter king’s fingers faltered on her grip, dissuaded by vexation. A body from the Age of the Gods? What could he have possibly meant by that? She’d never known Gilgamesh to joke, but the alternative was to believe this man told the truth, and there was no conceivable way the King of Heroes would ever permit this to happen to him, even in death.

Impossible. It had to be. This “Nebuchadnezzar II” spoke like him, moved like him—she pursed her lips—acted like him, and yet…

Arturia looked deep into his eyes, discerning if this truly was not the supercilious king that she once decided the fate of the world with. Eyes like amber struck with sunlight stared back at her just as intensely, dilated black circles drawing her in with a strange gravity Gilgamesh’s snake-like, ruby gaze used to have.

No matter how tempting her prejudice was, slowly, her sword sheathed itself, and she turned to her shell-shocked Master with a hesitant nod of approval. Then, she made for the door. The woman king could permit a lookalike if it meant another strong ally for Master’s cause, but that didn’t mean she had to stay here, or anywhere near him for that matter. Especially when that lookalike thought he could get away with handling her. She could apologize to Master for her conduct later, but she would not stand another minute in this room.

“Arturia.”

The Earth stopped turning.

Nebuchadnezzar didn’t even realize he’d spoken ‘til the sound had left his mouth. He voiced it with such ease it was like his tongue had yearned for eons to call out her name. Now her eyes clashed with his again, and though it had only been seconds since their gazes last met, it felt like a long-awaited reunion. His heart beat faster, harder, in his chest. He couldn't breathe. He wanted her to stay.

But she, with her eyes wide as dinner plates and a quivering lip that tasted like disbelief, ran.

Run, she did, for the most grueling months Nebuchadnezzar had ever lived. Ritsuka offered to help, but he was a proud king, the architect of Babylon's most prosperous city, a god to his own people. Requesting her assistance reduced him to common folk.

Besides, he ought not to have such troubles as those of the heart. He put his hand over his chest, trying to soothe it in vain. How humbling to think an organ the size of a fist could cripple him so, especially when this body didn't even belong to him.

Nebuchadnezzar was by no means weak. However, considering this demigod shell hijacked his own sense of being twice now—with Enkidu and now with Arturia—whispers of thought entertained the notion he wasn't entirely himself, not anymore. Perhaps he was someone else, someone with borrowed feelings so strong they persisted long after their owner entered his tomb.

Nonetheless, even if they were borrowed, they were undoubtedly real.

Just when he was about to retire for the evening, he heard the familiar commotion that accompanied Master's return from a successful mission, and felt the overwhelming rush of feelings that was her.

Once again, their eyes locked in a dance of ice and fire. Once again, she turned immediately away, rushing down the hallway to avoid him. Once again, he contemplated giving chase, only this time, he gave in.

"Leave," she insisted, trying in vain to get him back out her door. "Your presence is unwanted here, King of Babylon."

Her words stung like a whip, but they were nothing compared to the hurt of being shunned for weeks on end. He’d had enough of that.

"I did not believe you a cruel king when we met, Arturia, but if you must avoid me when I have done nothing to warrant your ire, then I have grossly misjudged."

She stopped suddenly, the wrists he held in his hands going slack before she tore them from his grip. Though she put some distance between them, he felt relief that she no longer fought to drive him out.

"Don't," she hissed, her green eyes igniting as she glared up at him. "I never gave you my true name, Nebuchadnezzar. What on God's earth makes you assume you have the right to use it?"

He didn't answer.

Arturia inhaled sharply, massaging her temples as she tried to manage her temper. Perhaps she was being cruel. Part of her knew she was being irrational but really, there couldn't be anyone in the world who understood how she was feeling because how was she to treat someone who lived in Gilgamesh's body?

And the kiss? Where had that come from? They were strangers so far removed in time that weren't blessed to be enemies in a Grail War. It wasn't Nebuchadnezzar who harassed her with promises of marriage. It wasn't Nebuchadnezzar who waited ten years to do it again. It wasn't Nebuchadnezzar who smiled so gently after their battle, telling her he had fun as he faded to nothing. He was merely the inheritor.

The older king gave in, his irate gaze faltering in the heat of hers. A long, hard breath danced across her eyelashes, as he once again dared to venture into her personal space. She took a step back. Another. And suddenly, she was between the wall and a familiar face with a different name.

"Why do you know my name? And…how?" she interrogated, searching his golden eyes. They were distracted, every so often fluttering down to her mouth. She couldn't even tell if he'd heard her, the bastard.

She slapped away his hand before it could cup her cheek, banishing the confusing memory of the King of Heroes' goodbye from her memory. She knew she couldn't possibly have harmed him, and yet Nebuchadnezzar stared at her, betrayed, with her knife through his chest.

"I don't know," Nebuchadnezzar lied.

Every inch of his very existence screamed her name at him whenever they touched, loud like war and just as deafening. It was like his body demanded he speak it, her foreign moniker a mantra maddeningly echoing in his mind. But it wasn't Nebuchadnezzar's voice that spoke it, it was—

"Then I see no reason we should associate at all—" she started and stopped, her back hitting the wall as Nebuchadnezzar held her in place. Before she could retort he was cupping her face, forcing her to witness the grief she'd just inflicted.

"Have some empathy," Please. He hadn't said it, but she could hear it in his voice.

"You—"

He cut her off with a breath, trying not to lose himself in her scent.

"When I first laid eyes on you it was as if I had waited several eons to see you again. I had my ambitions, my accomplishments. If I wished for anything it was more power and now that seems so terribly foolish because you exist. I was never a stranger to life's great luxuries. I never wanted beyond my own ambitions, and yet one infinitesimal moment with you in the same room made me feel as if I had nothing."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, bittersweet nostalgia flooding his senses. Arturia stiffened, then relaxed, recognition and confusion in her eyes.

"I was…" he sighed, mirroring her vexation "jealous of the dress that touched your skin, the floor beneath your boots, the air that left your lips—imagine how I felt when the name you spoke was not mine."

Arturia bit her lip til it went pale, her eyebrows knitting as she stared into the unfamiliar gold shade of his eyes. Gilgamesh's were red.

"How can you claim such things?" she asked, struggling to comprehend what she was hearing. Arturia had never been the most in touch with her feelings."You do not know me, Nebuchadnezzar."

"Don't I?"

Two words, and all her common sense jumped out the window. A hitch in her breath. She feared staring at his eyes too long. She feared he'd see her waver. She feared she'd believe him. Because if what he said was true…what did that mean for his body's original owner?

"We have just met," she reasoned weakly, her voice a mere whimper.

"We have just met," he repeated, in that familiar voice yet unfamiliar tone. "and yet it feels like I have known you for a lifetime.”

She pursed her lips, pulling away from his touch. "You haven't. He hadn't. You couldn't possibly—"

His lips landed on her fingers. It was such a slight and gentle touch, she wondered if she would've minded letting them find their original target. Slowly, she untangled herself from him, weaving herself out of his arms.

"We are strangers, you and I. You must understand," she said, detaching her hand from fingers that tried in vain to keep her.

His heart wrenched in his chest, clawing for her retreating figure, but his head kept him in place. Deep down, he knew the heated longing he felt wasn't truly his. Even if it were, he doubted he had the right to act on it, not in this form. Alas, she'd doomed Nebuchadnezzar to live his second life jealous of every mongrel that dared seek her attention.

Like hell.

Arturia spun back around, her hand gently wrapped in his.

“I do not wish to be strangers, Arturia,” Nebuchadnezzar declared with conviction. She stared back at him, lips pursed and jade eyes unsure. The king released her slowly, dreading that she’d run once more, but she stayed where she was, her mind still warring with itself.

Arturia looked down at the fingers which only moments before were in his hold, then back at his eyes. They were gold, like honey struck by sunlight. Meanwhile, the neo-babylonian king drank up the sea in her gaze. The expression she wore was one neither he nor this body’s original owner had ever seen before.

Nebuchadnezzar smiled softly to himself. They wouldn’t be strangers for long.

_____________________

I've always wanted to write these two. Ain't nothing I love more than confusing feelings ahahaha.

-akampana (im alive btw, law school just made me busy for a bit)

#rcdp #artoria pendragon #arturia pendragon #arturia #nebuchadnezzar ii #fgo #gilart #fate #akampana asks

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