The knight shifted, his gaze sharpening and focusing on the reflection of his Master in the glass. She looked regretful, and from what he knew of her, she probably was. He’d never known her to be the conniving or manipulative type - he’d thought her different than other magi, a young woman with a good heart, whom he could trust beyond the confines of the Grail they still sought-
But how much of her did he know?
How much of her was hidden away from him, depths that he couldn’t understand? Like maggots worming their way beneath the skin of a corpse, hidden from sight only to burst out when disturbed?
The mug clinked quietly on the ledge he sat upon as he shifted his weight, letting his feet touch the floor with a muted tread. Turning his body to face her, the Knight of Treachery still kept his eyes downcast upon a patch of floor, though his stare might have bored holes in the ground, so intense it was.
“Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia.”
His voice was as calm as it had been earlier, but now bore a solemnness that hadn’t been there before. And only now, when he spoke her name, did his eyes settle upon hers, devoid of the joy they normally showed in his presence.
“We can never go back to the way we were.
I thought of you as less a Master and more a friend. You were someone I thought I could trust. A magus who had a heart. But you have the same disrespect for life that she did. That so many other magi do. Those beliefs are deeply ingrained within you, as you said. That means you would discard those lives without a second thought, as she did with me. You’re one step away from becoming just like her.”
He took a deep breath then, and let it out in an exhale that shuddered just a little bit, ever so slightly, keeping his emotions in check before they could betray him. She deserved an answer, at least.
“I cannot trust someone like that.”
“I swore an oath to be your Servant. That, I will fulfill. Your wish will see the light of the Grail. Your legs will be healed. But after that, we will again go our separate ways. And I will be beholden to you no longer.
Do you have anything else you want to say, Master?”
✧ Fiore’s lashes lowered slightly in a minor wince when his mug hit the stone of the sill, and she kept her eyes on her lap even a moment longer when he said her name, too timid to look up. She feared that if she may do so, she may begin to cry, and such wouldn’t be appropriate. There was a familiar old burning sensation in the back of her throat, though, and at the bridge of her nose. She felt like a child, she was so ashamed and embarrassed. Still, she had to at least summon some modicum of spine. She looked up just in time for him to break her heart.
We can never go back to the way we were.
Mordred was so calm as he stabbed her with knives disguised as words. With each syllable, she could feel herself crumpling down inside, though she remained sitting straight up. Her stomach felt sick. A tingling numbness began in her toes and worked their way up her legs. He accused her of being a step away from turning into the monster he had described... and Fiore’s bottom lip began to tremble. Mordred was doing so well at keeping his emotions at bay; at the present moment, Fiore could not say the same.
Oh, goodness... Oh, no... The burning at the back of her throat transformed into a pink in her nose and cheeks and a welling up of wetness in her eyes. Fiore was embarrassed; she hated that she was starting to cry, but she couldn’t make her body stop. She tried to take a deep and silent breath through her nose, not wanting him to notice that she was trying desperately to stop herself from crying, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her distress.
She didn’t want him to be her Servant. She didn’t want to be his Master. That wasn’t how their relationship had been; they had been friends. Genuine friends. He irked her from time to time and surely she annoyed him on occasion, but they had been friends. She couldn’t bear the thought of him considering himself only a Servant to her... a tool to be discarded once the goal was achieved.
Did she have anything else to say? She knew that if she spoke, the levees would break and her words would come out tumbling, gushing with tears and uneven breathes. How juvenile of her, unable to control herself. Fiore took another breath through her nose, hoping the action would calm her heart rate and perhaps she could stop the waterworks before they really began.
If this was what he wanted... ... ...
Fiore’s hands slowly departed her lap to reach for the wheels of her wheelchair, and she turned herself slowly around, pausing for a moment to think. Before she could stop herself, she raised her left hand and used a finger to wipe the tears out of her eyes, not wanting him to see her weakness. If she was going to be his Master, she couldn’t be demonstrating weakness in front of him. A friend would have that privilege, and they were no longer friends. A deep breath and a straightening out of her emotions. She could do this. She could be just as unemotional as he was. Since that was what he wanted.
“No, Saber...,” she answered quietly and with a tone of professionalism well-practiced throughout her life. Fiore pushed her wheelchair away from him to leave. “I’ll leave you be until we have work to do.”