Chapter Text
The world beyond the bed ceased to exist. It was almost disorienting. She couldn't move. Her limbs were absolutely boneless. Sweat glued them together, slowly beginning to cool in the night air. He was still buried deep between her thighs—she felt the small twitches his cock still gave.
She should have move. Propriety demanded she clean herself and analyze this shift in their relationship. But a lazy contentment filled her. She simply didn't have the energy to move—she didn't want to move. And he didn't move her, either. The sweat slicked skin of his chest was her only pillow and the smell of him was her only comfort in that moment.
His arms remained wrapped around her, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over her spine that was growing slower as the minutes passed.
Her consciousness began to slip.
Saber didn't fight it. With her cheek against his chest, her lids slowly lowered and with a soft sigh of contented breath—exhaustion took her. Still wrapped around him, still full of his body and his release. Gilgamesh gave a low rumble of satisfaction and a hum of laughter before he followed her into sleep.
Morning light filtered through the heavy silken drapes. Saber felt the weight of the night before her eyes even opened. A heaviness in her limbs and a lingering warmth between her thighs. As morning consciousness return, so did the sensory memory of everything they had done.
And, as had been proven inevitable, she was completely tangled on his side of the bed. Her head was pillowed on his bicep and her body was tucked into the curve of his chest and hip. She slowly straightened her leg, stretching, and felt the distinct twinge between her thighs. It was a reminder of the barrier she had surrounded and the sheer, staggering size of the man who had claimed her. She bit her lip, a small intake of breath escaping her.
At the sound, Gilgamesh shifted. Golden lashes lifted, revealing eyes that were already bright with awareness. He looked at her with the smug satisfaction of a lion who had finally corned his prize.
"Good morning, wife," he murmured.
The word hit her like a physical weight. Wife. He called her that every morning and every night and yet the weight of it now was different. It was true in every sense of the word. Saber couldn't help it—her cheeks flooded with heat. "Good morning."
She tried to pull the sheet higher. It was trapped between their legs somewhere at the foot of the bed. She was all too suddenly aware of their shared nakedness and the dried evidence of their union on her skin.
Gilgamesh noticed her movement immediately and laughed softly. He slowly pulled her flush against his side. "There is no need for such modesty now, Artoria. I have mapped every inch of you as you have I and I intend to spend the day doing it again." He tilted his head and his nose brushed hers. "Do you hurt?" He murmured.
Saber's breath hitched as she was suddenly hoisted upward to straddle his hips again. The position was just as intimate as the night before—but more open in the daylight. "I am...sore." She admitted.
She frowned as he leaned up on his elbows beneath her.
Gilgamesh arched an eyebrow. "Can your husband not get a good morning kiss?" He asked in a low teasing vibration.
She inhaled softly, a moment of hesitation before she leaned down, her hair falling around them. "You are very demanding in the morning, Gilgamesh." She whispered, though there was no real bite to her words.
Her lips met his. A soft kiss. A kiss that tasted of the quiet of the morning. It was a far cry from the violent, desperate hunger of the night before. It simply carried a different kind of intensity.
"I am the King." Gilgamesh reminded her against her lips. His hands traced down her sides, sliding low to cup her hips before his thumbs slid over her hipbones. And despite her soreness, she felt a small, traitorous spark of heat flare up at his touch. "I demand only what is mine. And you, Artoria, are most certainly mine."
The ease of the morning seemed to evaporate—replaced by the familiar, heavy hum of desire. He pulled her hips against his own—let her feel the heavy desire between his thighs.
Her breath hitched when she felt the hardness. "Again?" She whispered, her voice cracking.
Gilgamesh laughed softly as his hands slid lower, gripping the insides of her knees, settling her more fully over his hips.
She felt the hot, insistent pressure of him at her entrance.
"Again." He whispered as he slowly guided her hips down.
Saber inhaled shakily as his body slowly stretched hers. She tensed—expecting the pain from the night before. But there was nothing but the profound stretched and sliding heat that had her head falling back.
The stretch was immense, a heavy pressure that dominated her lower body. But there was no pain. And then he was so deep. So deep she swore she could feel him pulsing near her heart.
"See." Gilgamesh whispered, his hands already at her waist to guide her into that first, slow, upward push. "Your body has already learned its purpose. It welcomes its King."
She didn't have the breath to argue. As he began to thrust upward with a slow, rhythmic power, she found herself leaning into him as she chased the mounting friction.
The morning was no longer quiet. It was filled with the sound of their skin meeting. A slick rhythm of two bodies coming together and the soft cries of the Queen as her King made love to her in the morning glow of Uruk's rising sun.
The golden days of her time in Uruk bled into weeks of shimmering heat and an intoxicating intimacy. Their time became a balance of statecraft and seduction. The afternoons were filled with Gilgamesh's sharp, teasing wit and their nights a soft intimacy. And he always let her set the pace. More than often he initiated it—but he gave her control. He gave her the throne of his bed. He endured the agonizing test of his own restraint just to see the fire of confidence grow in her green eyes.
She grew used to that reality. Waking to his wandering hands. Spending her days as his equal. Falling asleep draped across his chest. She could forget about the past. She could forget about their involvement in the Grail. She could forget that he had once been the great King of Heroes who thought so little of those he called mongrels. The life he gave her now was worth far more than that.
It almost made her forget that he was man who had lived an entire lifetime before her.
Until one afternoon.
The sun was high and the scent of jasmine was heavy in the gardens. She was walking alone, enjoying a rare moment of solitude when she rounded a corner and found a cluster of women lounging near a reflective pool. They were dressed in fine silks. Their laughter sounded like the chime of bells—until they saw her.
They fell silent and straightened at the sight of her. The Queen of Uruk. They all nodded with small murmurs of acknowledgment, though one reclined back after a moment. Dark sultry eyes raking over Saber with an unsettling familiarity. She was beautiful—she held the exotic features of Uruk and a gaze that suggested she knew secrets hidden behind closed doors.
"So," The woman spoke, her voice like honey laced with a sting. "You're the one who managed to chain our King down. The little knight-king from the North."
Artoria stopped, her posture instinctively straightening into that of the King of Britain. The woman's tone wasn't just curious. It was possessive.
"I'm sorry?" Artoria asked, her voice cool and steady. Though, a small sharp prick of unease settled in her chest.
The brunette laughed softly. For once, Saber wasn't sure of the tone she heard. She simply watched as the brunette straightened from her reclined position. She shifted in a provocative manner that had silk clinging to curves. She stood slowly and then gave a delicate bow before offering her a place beneath the perfumed pavilion.
Saber almost turned and walked away. But pride had her sinking to her knees among the women. More than once Gilgamesh had suggested she make use of her time alone. The Kingdom welcomed her with open arms—but they wouldn't come to know Artoria Pendragon unless she gave them her time physically.
"Do not be sorry, my Queen." The brunette teased softly. "We were all wondering who would finally occupy his nights so thoroughly." Her eyes flickered to Artoria's throat before drifting upward again. "He's always had a voracious appetite."
Saber's stomach tightened.
"Though...you seem a bit delicate." The brunette paused. "Does he enjoy breaking you, or are you just very good at pretending he hasn't?"
Saber's fingers bunched in the silk skirts just beneath her armor. She didn't care for the opinion of others. Truly, she didn't. She had accomplished great things in her life and no manner of words could override that greatness.
But she was suddenly surrounded by female voices and risque stories. Wicked tales. Things that certainly didn't seem...pliable. Or comfortable. Or possible. She had been a virgin weeks ago. She didn't have the knowledge nor the experience these women had. Gilgamesh was the only man she had been with. He would be the only man she was with.
And there was something in the way they spoke...a familiarity. She suddenly...didn't want to be here. Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. She realized with a sickeningly clarity that all of these women had belonged to Gilgamesh at one time. Lovers. Past lovers.
Past. Past. Because Gilgamesh wouldn't. He absolutely would not.
One of them offered her wine. She declined.
Gilgamesh had lain with these women. Some of them at the same time. And the things they spoke of…
He'd done no such things to her.
"He's a magnificent lover, is he not, my queen?" The brunette questioned.
Saber opened her lips but couldn't form the words before she closed her mouth again because another woman was speaking.
His head between her thighs. Right beneath a table with nothing but a table cloth separating him from the world. How hard it had been for her to keep quiet.
Gilgamesh really did...that.
Another whispered how he had fucked her in a servants closet.
Another whispered how he had been insatiable with even three females in bed with him.
Rough in a way he hadn't been with her.
Her stomach twisted.
They laughed behind manicured nails.
"I saw him not too long ago." The brunette murmured, twirling a dark strand of hair around her finger. "He was rather...ravenous."
Not too long ago?
Nausea rose in the back of Saber's throat as she stood. "I'm needed at the palace." She said, her head held high. Regal. She refused to let those women see her hands shaking as she turned and left. She felt a coldness settle in her bones that no amount of sun could warm. She had seen Gilgamesh as a conqueror and a king. And lately, as a husband who treated her with a startling, almost reverent gentleness.
But those women…. They spoke of a man of hedonistic excess. They spoke of a man of public filth and sharp, rough edges that he had never once shown her.
Was she simply one flavor in a vast treasury of experiences? Did he temper himself for her? Or was she simply a "pure" diversion while he sought his more explicit appetites elsewhere? Or had he simply wanted a Queen of her stature? He had said so himself once long ago—that she was the only one fit to rule at his side.
But that wasn't what made her uneasy. It was the implication of the timeline. Not too long ago.
Gilgamesh wouldn't.
Would he?
Her thoughts whirled as she made her way back through the palace. She didn't even know he was in the main hall until she stepped inside. He was mid-sentence with a scribe when he saw her. The moment his red eyes landed on her, his entire countenance shifted. The bored, kingly mask fell away, replaced by a radiant genuine smile of welcome. The kind of look he gave only to her. He waved the court away with an impatient flick of his wrist, wanting her all to himself.
She frowned.
He started towards her, the room already empty. "Artoria," He began, his voice warm. "I was thinking—"
"I will not be made a fool of, Gilgamesh." She said softly, cutting him off. The words were soft, but they carried the weight of Excalibur.
His smile faltered before it vanished, confusion dancing in his eyes.
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