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kumeko · 2 years

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A/N: For the @fatezerozine! I could resist putting a little Lancer/Saber and Iri/Saber here, because they broke my heart in the series.

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Artoria always believed in facing her mistakes head-on, in confronting and correcting them. Yet, staring at the angry, broken shell of a man she’d once called Lancelot, she didn’t know how to respond. Standing on the docks, she lowered her sword, her grip slack. “Lancelot?”

He roared, enraged and full of pain. It was the sound of Camelot crashing down, of all of her sins accumulating into a single person. Artoria had always known her rule had been a mistake but this only confirmed it. This angry demon was nothing like the kind knight she’d known.

It was all her fault. She clenched her hand tightly and bowed her head. “Forgive me.”

That only made him angrier. She flinched as he took a step forward and roared once more. However, before he could make another move, he dematerialized, no doubt called back by his master. Artoria stared at the particles that once made the berserker, at the choppy waters now visible from behind where he’d stood. In the night, the waters were chaotic and unruly.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. “I suppose there’s no way you could.”

There was a soft tap behind her as Kiritsugu landed on the concrete. Turning around, she found he was already packed up, his rifle safely tucked away in its case. His long trench coat rustled in the wind as he started walking to his car. “We’re going.”

As usual, he didn’t ask for her input, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue. Not when she could still hear Lancelot’s roars in her ears. It took her back to when Guinevere had confessed her affair, to when her knights had left her side. To Mordred’s battle cry as they fought and Tristan’s cries as Camelot splintered.

The king doesn’t understand the hearts of men.

No, she didn’t. Maybe she never had. Maybe her rule had been doomed from the start. What sort of king didn’t know his own subjects? Her hand clenched into a fist. “Can I even atone that?”

Artoria hadn’t meant to say any of that aloud. Quickly, she glanced at Kiritsugu, but he didn’t say anything. Perhaps he hadn’t heard or, more likely, didn’t care, Sometimes, when she looked at him, she could see just what her people had seen in her: a heartless leader.

It was no wonder they’d all rebelled. They would have been better off without her.

When they reached the car, Kiritsugu opened the passenger door but didn’t slip inside. When she stared at him curiously over the car’s roof, he muttered, “Some things can never be forgiven.”

She gazed at him blankly before realizing he was replying to her earlier words. “You…”

“Some sins are too big.” His eyes were on her now, cold as ice. “You just have to live with it.”

Artoria clenched her teeth as he slipped in the car, hating the truth ringing in his words.

-x-

“Forgiveness?” Gilgamesh snorted elegantly, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow as he looked at her over the top of his goblet. When she didn’t say anything, just glared at him, he threw his head back and laughed. “You really have the strangest ideas of what a ‘king’ is.”

“What?” Artoria retorted, trying and failing to keep her temper down. She had no idea why she continued to meet the other two kings in the Einzbern castle. The silvery flowers around them glowed softly in the moonlight, the golden goblets filled with a fragrant aroma of a ruby red wine, and every part of this scene was ruined by the two Servants sitting across from her.

Semi-serious now, Gilgamesh swirled his drink before taking a refined sip. “That word doesn’t exist for a ruler.”

Iskandar guffawed heartily, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder. With his strength, it took all of her concentration to make sure she didn’t fall over. “A leader leads! The others follow—what is there to forgive or regret?”

“Even the oaf understands it,” Gilgamesh added, giving Iskandar a dismissive look.

Disgruntled, Artoria looked down into her goblet. Her reflection trembled in the dark wine. These two should never have led anything, let alone entire countries, but she couldn’t deny she was drawn to their confidence. If she had that arrogance, perhaps Camelot wouldn’t have fallen.

Gawain had exuded the same sort of charisma and he’d often been surrounded by knights and peasants alike. He had known the hearts of men. He had seen her people, talked to them, and been welcomed by them.

She couldn’t say the same for herself. For all her subjects’ words of loyalty, she had only ever been followed from a distance.

And from a distance, they watched her die.

Artoria gripped her goblet. “And if your subjects are harmed by your actions?”

“So?” Gilgamesh curled his lips. “What of it? If they don’t like it, they can try to steal my power.”

Iskandar gulped down his goblet and slammed it down. Wiping his mouth, he leaned forward and smirked. “Ohh? That sounds fun.”

Gilgamesh eyed him. “You could provide maybe a few minutes of distraction.”

Or maybe Camelot would have collapsed even earlier if these two had led it. Artoria ignored them, taking a sip of wine. It had been foolish of her to have expected anything else from them; these kings had never once thought of their people.

Regret was for kings who cared, and she doubted they’d ever done that.

-x-

“Forgiveness?” Under the silver moonlight, Irisviel looked absolutely ethereal. She tore her eyes away from the stars to look at Artoria, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Artoria glanced at the sake bottle that sat between them, at the two cups they’d spent the past half hour drinking from. She wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to these moon-watching sessions. The compound was big, Irisviel vulnerable, and if Kiritsugu wasn’t willing to protect his wife, then she had to. Yet, it was impossible to say no when Irisviel asked her to join in. Impossible to stay far away when a soft hand tugged her down to sit.

“I…” Artoria peeked up. Irisviel smiled kindly. Blaming it on the alcohol, she pushed on, “If you make a terrible mistake…is it possible to be forgiven?”

“Yes,” Irisviel answered immediately, no hesitation at all in her voice.

Not expecting such a quick answer, Artoria resisted the urge to gape. “I am talking about a terrible crime, one that has harmed many innocents.”

Firmly, Irisviel repeated, “Yes.”

“That’s…” Artoria didn’t even know how to respond to such determination. “Why?”

Irisviel rested her hand on Artoria’s. “Do you regret it?”

“Yes.”

She interlaced their fingers. “Do you want to fix it?”

Artoria closed her eyes wearily. “Yes.”

Irisviel smiled broadly now. “Then yes, you can be forgiven.” Sensing Artoria wasn’t convinced, she giggled. “You and my husband are exactly the same. Neither of you believe me, but everyone deserves a chance to atone and be forgiven.”

Part of her rankled at the comparison. Pushing past it, Artoria asked softly, “Aren’t some crimes too big for that?”

“Some can feel that way.” Irisviel looked up at the full moon. No doubt she was thinking of Kiritsugu. Her expression softened, as it always did, and Artoria wondered what it would take to convince this tender-hearted woman to leave this dangerous game. “The more blood on your hands, the more impossible it feels.”

“Then—”

“But it’s not true,” she interrupted firmly, turning back to Artoria. “All that means is that you have to atone more. There’s no such thing as too big.”

It must be nice, to have such a kind, naïve viewpoint. Artoria couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought like that. Before she’d taken on her mantle as king, maybe. In the early days when she’d just been Artoria, a wandering swordsman helping others. “No matter how much you atone, some things can’t be forgiven.”

“By others, or by yourself? You both say this exact same thing and I don’t agree. Others might never forgive you, but you still have to try for yourself.” Irisviel sighed, leaning against Artoria’s shoulder. “Then, if you won’t allow yourself compassion, I hope you get kindness. I hope that one day you might forgive yourself. I hope that one day you allow yourself happiness.”

Artoria didn’t reply, content to just soak in Irisviel’s warmth. For a moment, just a moment, she wanted to live in that world Irisviel saw, however improbable it was.

-x-

“Forgiveness?” Diarmuid cocked his head, considering the question. No doubt he hadn’t expected her to ask such a thing when he’d arrived for the strategy meeting to take down Caster, but there were few chances for them to interact alone as it was.

Which was a pity, to be honest. Diarmuid was the most reasonable of all the servants and in another time, maybe they could have enjoyed each other’s company. For now, she would make do with his advice. Rubbing her wrist, Artoria nodded. “Yes. Considering all that happened, do you forgive your lord?”

He leaned against the half-forgotten dojo on her master’s land, his eyes trained on the bright blue sky. “It is not my place to forgive my lord.” He chuckled softly. “If anything, it is I who must beg for forgiveness.”

“You were protecting someone,” Artoria pointed out, keeping her gaze on him steady. “Your lord punished you far beyond your crime.”

Diarmuid gave her a sad smile. “Yet he was still my lord. We had a convent, which I broke.” He paused, before lowering his eyes. “Even now, I do not know if my choice was the right one, only that I couldn’t say no.”

He reminded her of her knights, of a chivalry she had feared never existed. If he had been in Camelot, would he have forgiven her? Would he agree with her wish now or tell her to turn from it? “I…is there anything that you wouldn’t have forgiven your lord for?”

Diarmuid stood straight now. “There are things I would have disagreed with, but forgiveness has never been part of that question.” His eyes met hers, and she felt the faint tug of his curse before her abilities nullified it entirely. “The same goes for your people, I am certain.”

“That can’t possibly be true.” Artoria looked away. Despite the knowledge the grail gave, there was no way he could know the hatred in her knights’ eyes. “If your lord, if I harmed thousands—”

“You have not done that,” Diarmuid interrupted, stepping forward. “We have only spoken a handful of times, and that is enough for me to know you are honourable. Your people must surely see that too.”

“Honourable…” That wasn’t enough. Her kingdom still fell, despite her honour. Still, she had missed those words, after dealing with egotistical kings and cold masters.

I hope you get kindness.

Irisviel’s words echoed in her head and Artoria smiled, offering Diarmuid the forgiveness she couldn’t take. “I would have made a place for you at my table.”

His eyes widened in surprise before he smiled lopsidedly.

-x-

Forgiveness?

Artoria had been naïve to ever ask such a question. Standing in front of the Holy Grail, her sword raised high, she scoffed at the idea of it all. Atonement didn’t abate Lancelot’s rage. Forgiveness wouldn’t alter the fact that she had betrayed Diarmuid. And there was no way to change Irisviel’s death. However noble her intentions, however kind she was to herself, these truths would remain the same.

No, the only who had been right was the one forcing her to destroy the grail now. She locked eyes with Kiritsugu as she brought down her holy sword, as Excalibur ripped through the room.

There was no such thing as forgiveness for a person like her. There never had been.

#artoria pendragon #fate zero #irisviel von einzbern #diarmuid ua duibhne #saber diarmuid #saber x irisviel #kiritsugu emiya #gilgamesh #iskander #rider #saber #lancer #fanfic #fate is so hard to tag ahahaha #fate stay series

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writerofchub · 2 years

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Sometimes summer is for lazing around (weight gain)

Welcome to today's update where the lucky guys are two Sabers - Dia and Siegfried. Or the chapter where I said 'Screw restrain, I'm going all in!'

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A loud belch rattled Ritsuka’s room.

“Urgh, Master, that was too much - urp - grinding.” Siegfried lurched his head back, and his shoulders hunched into the couch, jutting his big torso forward. His round, big pecs bubbled up, and the button over his cleavage stretched apart as if tortured. “I feel like - burrrr! - I’ll burst with the experience.”

The button wobbled like a coin on its side. Siegfried had expected his swimsuit - it was a swimsuit, no matter Master’s disappointed blank stare - to be a tight fit. But to be so tight that his body was striving to rend all buttons?

A lazy smirk graced Siegfried’s bespectacled face, although the fluffy clumps of hair hid it. His stomach must have been working through the Embers, turning them into fuel for his power. Yes, that had to be why his shoulders were bubbling through the coat or why the buttons were struggling to press down his abdomen.

“Isn’t that our heroic duty, Siegfried?” On the other side of the couch, Diarmuid was rubbing his sizeable belly. “Our Master needs strong warriors to fight for him, and we’ll only get stronger if we eat like we are.” The gold rush of glutting himself on Embers was still tingling through his blood, making his voice more joyful than ever. It even dulled the pain where the metal edge of his chest plate dug into the top of his belly.

Good thing it did not extend lower; his gut was already twisting the metal around it to make room for his heft. He had absolute faith in his stomach, of course - it would make quick work of any armor! But it would be needless time wasted when his final level was still far away.

He had wanted to discard even the measly top, but the Master’s hand immediately had gone to his Command Seal, and he had said, “You look better with it farming your gut. Keep it on.”

“You are perfectly rig - UuUUUURRRR!” The crass sound projected out of Siegfried’s throat, throwing his face into an exhausted stupor. The buttons over his gut shook like buildings during an earthquake while his stomach worked through another batch of Embers. “Although everything seems kind of small now. I wish - ughrhr!” This time the eruption came because Ritsuka pushed his chubby hand on the crest of Siegfried’s stomach. Harshly.

“Come on, Siegfried, don’t be like this. Doesn’t it feel great being too stuffed to fit into things? Makes you feel like a real big shot.” His fingers flicked one strained button that could not even wiggle in place without digging in Siegfried’s gut. “That’s the biggest charm of the starting sizes: when you can fit in normal things, but they are so cramped, and they make you like a huge piece of work! Like Diarmuid, right? Don’t you feel like a real warrior when your gut is bending out that hard armor? Like you’re really huge?” His elbow poked into the side of Diarmuid’s belly - or what could be a side since it was almost a perfect sphere.

“I’m not - ugh! - sure if I understand everything, Master, but I do agree,” Diarmuid smiled, and his fingers rubbed his gold-skinned gut. “Knowing that my stomach can twist the hardy metal is one thing, but feeling it... It truly makes power surge through my body.”

“Yup! See, Siegfried - not an inch of room here, and he’s not complaining a bit!” Ritsuka had already tried to squeeze a chunky finger under the plate’s edge, ramming it where the gut and the armor kissed, but their tightness repelled any attack.

Each jostle sank under Diarmuid’s skin, to his stomach, sparkling again the grand feeling of fullness.

“Looks like a true warrior, glutting himself to his limits and getting wedged in his plate!” Ritsuka’s pushes grew harder, almost as if he was rutting his finger against the curve, and his breaths sped into rapid pants. He was falling into Diarmuid’s personal space, and his jiggly belly was flowing over the taut ball.

“Thank you for the praise, Master! You’re better spoken than any king! But I am merely following the example you’re setting.” Diarmuid groped Ritsuka’s belly, where it was heaving under his tight shirt, and his fingers squeezed in a true warrior’s hug.

Ritsuka twerked, and his ocean of a belly hit Diarmuid’s solid gut. “That’s how you do it! Take notes, Siegfried!” The Master slid his hands limply to his Servant’s legs and half-rolled to the other side, slow like an exhausted sloth. “Not that you’re doing bad, either. I’m sure a Grail or two will make very quick work of that coat.”

“A perfect observation, Master,” Siegfried nodded, making his glasses glisten. “With how powerful my body is getting, I’m sure it will take just one more burst of strength before I tear it asunder. But the sofa might give out even before that. After all, it’s barely keeping up with the three of us.”

There was only a small twitch of a joke to that. But the poor furniture had groaned even before the Master had set his rather bulky body on it, and now... With how packed they were, Siegfried doubted they would be able to stand up without getting stuck.

To make his point, he shifted a little backward. It was just for a show - not to topple the couch. The front rose like a neighing horse, and his weight flowed to his back.

Ritsuka clung to his coat, pulling whatever was left to be stretched. It squashed Siegfried’s gut, stealing his balance and forcing another thundering belch. The sofa dropped forward like a boulder, and the impact sloshed all the Embers in his stomach.

Ritsuka whispered before another belch could silence him. “Those glasses do give you some great ideas!”

#chubwriter writes #kink fic #siegfried #saber diarmuid #fgo #weight gain #burping #ritsuka fujimaru #three guys on a couch - yeah #i have tastes #1/2 dailies

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