Chapter Text
The evening air was cooler that night. It should have insulted Gilgamesh, watching her as she placed a small fort of velvet pillows on the mattress between them. But he found himself….amused. Amused as he reclined on his side, head propped by his palm as he watched her. She was setting a boundary, and he couldn't help but smile.
"Is that a defensive wall or are you planning to lay siege to my side of the bed later?" Gilgamesh asked, his voice teasing.
Saber ignored him. "It is a necessary precaution, Gilgamesh. Since some individuals cannot seem to remember where their side ends and mine begins."
"Need I remind you who woke up draped across me like a victory banner?" Gilgamesh reminded her, shifting. The movement caused the muscles of his bare chest and shoulders to ripple in the lamplight. He made no effort to cover himself.
She felt significantly safe behind her velvet barricade. "That was an anomaly." She defended. "It will not happen again."
Gilgamesh finally laid back, his hands behind his head. He looked up at the canopy, a wicked smirk playing at his lips. "Please do not try to smother me by trapping me on the bed again." He was simply beside himself. "I would hate for the King of Heroes to meet his untimely demise under the enthusiastic weight of his wife's nocturnal wandering."
Artoria's face burned. She reached out and snatched the light, plunging the room into darkness so he couldn't see her flush. "Go to sleep, Gilgamesh."
"I am trying," he murmured in the dark. "But the view of your ridiculous wall is quite distracting. Is there a sentry posted on the other side? Or should I expect a formal declaration of war if my foot crosses the line?"
"There is no sentry. Just silence. I suggest you utilize it."
She heard him exhale, a sound that was half-sigh, half-laugh. The bed shifted as he settled in. Even with the wall of pillows between them, she could feel the heat radiating from him.
The silence hours later was absolute, broken only by the distant, rhythmic chirping of crickets in the palace gardens. The room had darkened to a soft glow. Saber's lids drifted slowly. For a moment, she lay still. The velvet pillows had scattered at one point, though a few remained in a thin line between them.
But she could see him.
He was asleep.
It wasn't the same as seeing him in the gentle glow of the morning sun. No—moonlight bathed him in silence. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned away from her. His arms were folded beneath his pillow, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the deep rhythm of a dreamless sleep. He looked less like a king and more like a force of nature caught in a moment of rare silence.
Her eyes moved over the gentle rise of his back and the elegant lines of muscles. His golden hair, usually so meticulously kept, was a chaotic halo against his arms and pillow.
Saber's breath faltered in her throat.
She spent so much time fighting with him, arguing with him, teasing him—and lately, trying to find her footing in this strange dance of marriage that she rarely allowed herself to simply look at him. But there was nothing to distract her now. His biting wit was silent, and his overwhelming ego was silent—the reality of the man was staggering.
He was, as her traitorous mind whispered, utterly sinful.
And he was all hers.
The beauty he possessed wasn't delicate. It was the kind of beauty that demanded attention and received it. Even in sleep he radiated it.
This was the man who had stalked her through Grail wars. This was the man who had demanded she marry him. The same man who had been willing to bet his very life in a sword fight just to win her hand. He seemed to find it thrilling in the simple clash of their swords. This was the man who had taken the couch instead of his own bed until she grew comfortable with him.
Saber felt a strange, tight ache in her chest. It was a mixture of lingered fear and a new blossoming warmth she wasn't ready to name. She couldn't help but wonder at the strange fate that had brought two enemies, two legends and then husband and wife into a single kingdom and bed.
She settled back onto her pillows. A quiet, nagging question echoed in her mind.
Why?
Why did she say no? Why...wait? She was his wife by law and ritual. He was arguably the most magnificent man she had ever encountered—even if he was as insufferable as he was golden.
But…
Giving in meant losing the last of her identity. It meant admitting that she—a girl who had pulled the sword from the stone—was also a woman who could be unmade by a single man's touch. Because she had the feeling...his touch would undo her.
She was used to having control. And that wasn't something she was ready to let go of.
The loss of control terrified her.
Saber rolled onto her side, clutching the blanket as if it were Excalibur as she drifted to sleep again.
When she woke again, it wasn't to the sun hitting her eyes. It was a familiar heat consuming her. The pillows were gone. And in their place was a tangle of limbs.
Gilgamesh had rolled onto his back at one point, and she was curled and tucked firmly into the crook of his shoulder, her cheek against his chest again. Her right leg was hooked high over his hip, and a heavy, warm arm was draped solidly across the small of her back, pinning her against his side.
She was perfectly and terrifyingly cocooned in him.
Drawn to the shape of his body.
Drawn to the heat.
Drawn to him.
Saber froze and she drew her leg back—but his arm tightened instinctively around her back. "If you move any faster, you'll give us both whiplash." His voice rumbled in a low, sleep filled tone.
Her head jerked up. He was already awake, watching her with a hooded, dark-red gaze.
He arched an eyebrow and spoke before she could even form a response. "I was sound asleep and woke to find you trying to merge your soul with mine."
Oh God.
"I am a Knight, Gilgamesh." She whispered.
"And yet you purred for me like a small blonde lion."
Saber groaned.
Gilgamesh dipped his head, still having yet to release her—his eyes moved over his chest. Lingered on the minute dampness that lingered. "If you were attempting to polish me, wife—I suggest you use a finer cloth." Gilgamesh drawled out.
Her breath absolutely froze and Saber sat up.
She saw it. The slight glisten on his chest.
"You've marked your territory." Gilgamesh didn't hesitate to continue.
"Gilgamesh…" Saber warned, humiliation heating her cheeks.
"What would your round table say if they knew their leader sought midnight snuggles and drooled on her King?"
"Gilgamesh!"
An arm swept around her waist, and he pulled her down against his chest. He laughed. "You are the most stubborn creature in my treasury, Artoria. But I find I don't mind the marks you leave. Even the damp ones."
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