ITP: Meandering

[no_longer_a_king]

Characters: Arturia Pendragon [AU5] and anyone
Setting: Dorms, Floor One, Floor Twenty-threefour, and Floor Thirty-eight.
Format: Prose
Summary: Arturia wakes up in the tower after what must be countless centuries of forced combat.... and has no idea what to do with herself!
Warnings: DEATH! WOOHOO! In the first post, too! \o/



[Room 03-17]
It was with a jolt and a gasp that she finally sat up, hand going to her neck only to find the collar there but all the same she could move. She could move. She could breathe.

"W-what?"

She could speak.

What was this place? Yet another battlefield in which she'd be made to slaughter guilty and innocent alike endlessly, an angel of death garbed in blood-stained white for all to see? It made no sense to her. None whatsoever. She glanced around the room for any sign of what she was meant to do but only found other beds like the one she laid on and a trunk much like the one at the foot of her bed. Her eyes finally fell on the notes and she snatched them up, reading them thoroughly, her heart squeezing with every moment.

The world was.... gone? She was free? Free from her punishment?

Arturia had no idea how to feel about this. On the one hand even she could be grateful of the reprieve, but on the other hand it had been at the cost of who knows how many lives? And what if the world itself was still in tact? Would she go right back to fighting endlessly as soon as she returned? Questions. So many questions she didn't understand, but she balled up her notes and placed them in the trashcan. With barely a thought she summoned what was now her normal attire, sans the collar. Apparently the collar placed on her here superseded it. No matter. It wasn't like she was really attached to anything beyond her sword at this point.

And so Arturia headed out of her dorm, wanting to know just where she'd wound up and where to go from here.

[Floor One]
If there was one indulgence she would allow herself, it was food. Naturally when she'd read she'd have to eat some oatmeal before she could eat anything else she'd been fine with it.

There wasn't much of a spread in the cafeteria, simply eggs for breakfast, and once she was done with her oatmeal she tore into them like a hyena. It wasn't very kingly or knightly or even as lady-like as her appearance would suggest, but it was something. They were not the best made nor would it have been memorable otherwise--but it was food! Real food! And a delicious smell beyond the smell of blood and steal she never knew she'd grow tired of.

Part of her mind went back to those meals in Fuyuki, how warm the house had been, how Shirou had insisted she eat at the table with everyone else despite her and Rin's protests.

How delicious the meals had been, cooked with a care and pride not common in her time. Arturia found her appetite gone, the food tasting like ash, but not wanting to waste it, she forced herself to finish, though she no longer looks happy about it.


[Floor Twenty-Two to Floor Twenty-Four]

Wait, had she lost count of the floors? Arturia thought back for a moment. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, she could have sworn she just went past the twenty-third floor to explore, so why could she not remember it. She turned on the stairs to check again. She needed to be thorough in creating a mental map of this place and the dangers it could present.

Except she bypassed it again! What was wrong with her? Had she been controlled for so long her senses were completely dull?! With a frustrated sigh she turned again to go up the stairs--

--and again she missed the floor entirely! And again! Again again again she kept missing it. This tower would not make a fool of her! She turned yet again, this time counting the number of stairs to make sure she didn't miss the floor, a determined look on her face, and unaware of how her body was slowly becoming vaguely transparent time she passed the twenty-third floor.

[Floor Thirty-Eight]
Her body didn't ache after climbing so many stairs like a normal person would, but Arturia knew there was only so much time in the day. The elevator would be a few flights up and then she could see about returning to her dorm to become further acquainted with her roommates. But for now this room seemed as good enough place as any to rest and gather her thoughts.

The elation of being able to move freely, to speak freely, to make her own choices was starting to lose its novelty. Arturia sank into a bean bag chair, for once in her now-long life not caring how dignified she looked in doing so. If the world had, indeed, ended and she had, somehow, been saved, it left one question on her mind that she couldn't hold back any longer. For so long everything had been clear before her, her path marked with a vivid certainty she could not take her eyes from.

Only now it was gone. Gone not just in the world itself being gone, but her Kingdom, her friends, every last person had been lost to her by coming here; destroyed by her own hand. For so long she had believed there was no escaping her fate, her punishment, and now here she was, completely and utterly alone and lost.

"What do I do now?" she asked aloud both for the novelty and because some part of her mind was beginning to settle into a sort of malaise of "who cares"?

Comments

[oathshackledbird]

Thrall. It's such an ugly word and it pains Lancer to hear her have to use it in reference to him--in reference to what he's done to her.

Thrall. It's not the first time that people have used that word to describe what he's done to them--to their loved ones.

Thrall. He keeps hearing the word over in his head. In their voices. In her voice. And it upsets him so that he can't bring himself to write about his feelings at first. Instead, he focuses on what she's written about the tower and its monsters. Even so, she might notice a different tone to his letter this time--something almost defeated and definitely unsure.

My King,

You are probably right. I suppose I worry because I've learned that one of my roommates has a fear of elevators as a result of something that happened to him as a child and I can't imagine he is the only one in the tower to have such a fear. He is also one of those who will never be able to be a fighter like you or me. I worry for his safety every time he leaves the room and has to take the stairs down to places like the cafeteria and library.

I would be glad to try and help you with the stairs on floor 30, but I am afraid that our efforts might be useless. While I haven't tried myself, I have heard rumors of people trying to fix things like the stairs or even rooms themselves only to have the things revert to their previous state shortly thereafter. If the administrators want the stairs that way, we might not be able to do anything to change that.

I believe floor 17 to be similar. Only its less physically damaging and more mentally so. They are just a few of the cruel tests that so fill this place.

I-- The words are a little smudged here for some reason. --am glad that me keeping my distance is helping in at least some small way. I had hoped that your-- Here is another set of smudges. --enslavement might have been over by now. I do not know what else to do.

My apologies,
Your Knight


The letter isn't folded any special way this time. He is too upset to focus on it. Instead, it's just left sitting in its usual spot with him hoping that any signs of his tears would have dried by the time she finds it.

[no_longer_a_king]

She'd been reading his letter closely, more than she'd have liked to admit. Of course she noticed the change in tone. Of course she noticed the smudges. And then he said she was enslaved and her heart broke as she thought of the pain of her condition.

If it would ease his heart then.... then maybe....

I think I have enough control of myself now I could see you if it will ease your mind. I will be waiting on the thirty-eighth floor this afternoon until sunset. If you still believe it to be dangerous or are uncomfortable I will not be hurt. I promise.

--Arturia

She left it on his pillow again and hoped in prayed that him seeing she wasn't suffering would ease his mind. Part of her had wanted to tell him to meet her in her room, but it was too intimate a setting given their circumstances and she had to leave him time to leave a letter if he chose to instead.

But she couldn't let him suffer and how could she know if it was true if she didn't at least try?

[oathshackledbird]

He almost doesn't go. It's too much risk, too soon, but he can't help but believe that she is telling the truth. His King would never lie to him. They will meet and everything will be back like it was. They can laugh, talk about their plans for making the tower a safer place, and act as if it never happened.

But part of Lancer just can't believe that easily. It's that part of him that digs into his trunk and pulls out the unfamiliar clothes he noticed were in there before but has, until now, ignored. They are things he knows he never owned. The best he can guess from the tags they still have on them is that Sola-Ui had bought them for him at some point, but things in the war had happened so quickly--gone bad so fast--that she had never had the chance to give them to him.

It's a plain white dress shirt, black slacks and matching belt and shoes. Surely, if Arturia is still under the curse's sway, these clothes will be less...tempting...than his normal close-fitting armor will be.

And so, Lancer arrives on floor 38 an hour or so before sunset looking nervous and slightly uncomfortable in his new outfit. The clothes fit well, but it's a fit he's not familiar with.

"I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting too long. I..." He trails off unable to finish his thought without knowing if this was a very good idea or a tremendously stupid one.

[no_longer_a_king]

Arturia, on the other hand, is wearing a different set of clothes than that ridiculous white number he'd first met her in. It's not the suit he was used to seeing her in, but it was the only other set of clothing she had acquired here as her trunk had been completely empty. A fitting thing for someone who had erased her existence.

The thought of seeing Diarmuid in person had her heart racing for a number of reasons ranging from the thought of what if she couldn't control herself to the knowledge that she would most likely wind up telling him what had happened to her. Cursed or not, it was not something she could hide from him and every time he called her his king or himself as her loyal knight it sent a stab of pain through her heart. King Arthur no longer existed: all that was left was Arturia.

That aside, she didn't even look him over when he came beyond noting the difference in clothing. Arturia had never been one to care for the looks of a person and she was pleased to know it carried over even to being in thrall. No, the thing that appealed to her about Diarmuid had been his character and she thanked her stars every day her respect and friendship for him kept her from making a fool of herself.

"It is all right. Truth be told, I was afraid you would be too uncomfortable with coming. Please, sit, we have much to discuss," she said, indicating the chair she'd placed by her at the table. It was close to her, yes, but it kept some distance between the two of them. Arturia would never admit she'd spent an hour agonizing over where to place it so he wouldn't take it the wrong way or think she intended something untoward.

[oathshackledbird]

Lancer takes the offered seat, not really paying attention to its placement. He's too busy being relieved that she seems...better and that relief is obvious on his face as some of the tension on it drains away and is replaced with a small smile.

"You seem to be doing much better now. Has it gone then or just lessened?" He hopes that her answer is the former, but the latter will be acceptable too because that means it will eventually fade entirely. It will just take longer.

"I almost didn't come because I was worried about making things worse, but hiding isn't our style, is it? I'm sorry if my last letter upset you more than the others. This whole situation has been a nightmare for me. I was so happy when you resisted its charms during the war. To have it effect you here after all of that..." Lancer stops talking and spreads his hands in a helpless motion. He's not really sure how to explain just how badly it made him feel. He just hopes she will understand.

[no_longer_a_king]

Of all the things she expected to see on his face relief was probably one of the best. It made Arturia relax, some of her own tension easing away as she spoke and hoped her words did not upset him further.

"It's all right. If nothing else, staying away would likely not help," she admitted, tucking some hair behind her ear, "Truthfully I do not know if the curse has lessened, but I feel as if I would be better able to control myself now and it would be a dishonor to hide from you more than necessary."

She sighed, shifting in her seat so she could place her notes about the Tower on the table.

"Your letter only upset me because I do not wish to cause you distress, curse or no. Please, all I ask is that you trust me to keep myself in check and do not blame yourseld. Of the two of us, you are the one who is the most at risk as I know you would not take advantage of this state."

Because she was scared of what she might do to him if she gave in to the curse. Shirou had loved her and she'd wound up betraying him. All it had taken was one single instant of temptation and in that instant she had done the unspeakable to the one person she thought she had fallen in love with.

[oathshackledbird]

Lancer shakes his head with a smile, "You don't give yourself enough credit. You are no danger to me as you are as honorable as I am. If you feel yourself losing control again, I know you will distance yourself from me like before and I encourage you to do so. I will understand even if it will be hard. I just wish there was a way I could have stopped this from happening.

"I have always believed there is some measure of will involved when it comes to resisting my curse. It's just that most women I have run into don't want to take the time necessary to gather that will. I know it can be done. You are a perfect example. Not everyone will be like..."

His voice drops off as a memory stirs at the back of his mind. He pushes it away, though. Already once during his stay here that memory has been drug to the surface and it's not one he wants to deal with again. Not so soon and not while there are more important things going on.

He would actually rather remember how things ended because of Sola-Ui's infatuation with him than how things ended with hers...

[no_longer_a_king]

She didn't know who in particular he meant she would be like, but Arturia could hazard a guess it could have been any number of women he came across who fell under his thrall. She herself had no curse of his nature and had been forced to endure many an unwanted advance from men and women alike during her reign. Part of why she married Guinevere had been to make that stop because of how disturbing the obsession could be at times.

"Let us speak of better things since there is only so much we can discuss our circumstances. As I promised, I brought notes on what information I've gathered about the Tower so far."

[oathshackledbird]

Lancer nods and settles his sketchbook onto the table. While he still feels like he should say more--apologize more--about the situation, he realizes that she is right to change the topic. They can only say so much. The rest is a waste of time they should be spending on more important things.

"Let me see what you have gathered so far. I know you pointed out a few floors in one of your letters that particularly worry you. Have you found any others you would like to add to that list? While most of the floors are dangerous in their own ways, those that worry even trained warriors like us should be what we focus on."