capeandcowllogs | ITP: Camelot

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ITP: Camelot

WHO: Saber and Archer
WHERE: A theater off Broadway
WHEN: October 5th, evening
WARNINGS: None yet
SUMMARY: Archer takes Saber to see Camelot. It does not go as planned.
FORMAT: Prose

To say Saber had been surprised to receive an invitation from Archer to see a show was like saying clouds were made of water, Calvin was getting into mischief somewhere, or that Rin was just a tad this 'tsundere' thing Saber had heard of. It'd been a very long time since Saber had been to any kind of live theater. She had seen a movie about dinosaurs with Rin, but that was not live theater.

Archer had said she would enjoy this show, but seeing the posters outside proclaiming it was "CAMELOT!" gave her pause. Then again, she had heard about an odd comedy involving a man named after a snake that was popular. Perhaps it was that? Something told her she would not enjoy this very much, but she had to try. Saber trusted Archer's taste. At worst she wouldn't get the humor of the theater.

"Archer?" she called when she saw the head of white hair among the crowd gathering in the lobby. Sometimes she wished she was so tall. Perhaps then as King she would not have needed her full regalia to get attention from the crowd.

Of course, he had told her to come dressed up.

He probably didn't expect her to come in her suit.

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Saber was lonely, right? Saber missed her knights, didn't she?

Archer thought it was a really golden opportunity that he'd found a brief off-Broadway run of a musical about Camelot. He could give Saber a brief, shining moment back in her own era, complete with song and dance. Wouldn't that make her happy?

Yes, that part was bound to go off without a hitch. The problem was, he couldn't find her in the lobby. Maybe she didn't recognize him dressed up in a fine suit? Frowning in thought and distraction, he stopped by a short but rather dapper teenage boy who for some reason struck him as a trustworthy source of information. "Hey, have you seen a short young lady with...blond..."

Archer took a breath. It suddenly felt like it would be his last one.

"Saber?"

....he was used to seeing her in skirts, wasn't he? The kind that were loose and easy to move in, not tight ones that impeded her movement like most girls her apparent age wore in the City. Then came the dress she normally wore in battle.

Come to think of it, the only time he had probably seen her in pants at all had been the few times he stopped by her work to drop off a lunch for her. It was a strange observation to have with how Archer was looking down at her like his jaw was about to fall off and like he couldn't breathe at all.

Saber did not miss a beat, however. She had a feeling calling him on his shock would only embarrass him. Perhaps now he understood how she could pass as a man when she'd been a King. A very young-looking man, but a man nonetheless.

"You look rather handsome, Archer. I hope Rin will not be jealous by you being here with me."

Did not mean she would try to embarrass him another way, even if she would not ask about his 'virtue' to his face.

Archer's head was in disarray. His brain was falling apart, thanks to pants. No, not just thanks to pants. Thanks to the elegance of that suit.

"Why would Rin be jealous of me going out with another man?"

So he blurted out strange things that jumped into his head without thinking. Just like old times.

Another man? Not another woman? The edge of her lips began to quirk upward at the miswording, at the expression on his face. Did it seriously surprise him so much?

"I suppose that is true. Come. We have a date, do we not? And they are seating the audience now."

She still thinks "date" is modern slang for "going out with friends" with no romantic connotations whatsoever.

She also decides to be kind to his purse and not get anything from the concession stand.

"It's just a theater date," Archer felt the strange need to clarify. "But that's right. Let's go pick up our programs and sit down."

And he quickly fell into step on the way to the seats.

The theater itself was small, and designed to take advantage of that; the stage was circular, surrounded on all sides by seats. The setting, of necessity for such a small theater, was somewhat abstracted, playing on the idea of the "brief, shining moment" more than any realistic idea of an ancient castle: golden towers of papier-mache rose about the stage, which was also strewn with sketchy cardboard cut-out trees and knights on a track.

"It was probably less tacky in reality," Archer muttered as he took his seat.

Odd that he felt the need to say it was such a specific 'date,' but Saber didn't question it. Perhaps it was just something about the dialect she still did not understand? Whatever the case may be, she took her seat. The theater was small, yes, and part of her had a feeling the entire stage might get used as the Round Table when it eventually came into play, but it was a valiant effort.

"It depended on who you spoke with, but it was more a town-sized fortress than anyone's idea of a castle in this age."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she sat down in her seat. An aisle seat, thankfully. If someone got too enthusiastic she could just lean over to see the stage instead of having to try to get them to sit down.

Still....

How long had it been since she'd even slept in her own bed? Seven months? Eight? True she'd spent most of her time ruling on campaign, but at the end of each battle she had had the prospect of home to look forward to, even if home itself had been lonely as well. And here she was about to see a play on the subject of her once proud home. A play about this world's idea of herself and those she held dear. Was this really a good idea?

Try as he might to be casual, Archer couldn't help but cast slightly anxious glances sidelong at Saber as she studied the theater and the stage. Actually, he seemed more interested in her reactions, even as the lights dimmed and the overture began to play.

"It's a musical," he whispered to Saber. "That means they burst into song at random intervals. That's not supposed to be a historical reflection of your realm."

"Much of the entertainment in my time involved bursting into song at random intervals," she whispered to Archer, aware of him watching her reactions. Wasn't he here to enjoy the theater as well? Or was he just so invested in her enjoying herself that he couldn't enjoy himself at all?

"And my time was a thousand years past. There's no way they could get anything ri--"

Merliiiiiin! Merliiiiiiiin!

The actor they had playing 'Arthur' was definitely a master of his craft. Or, at least, he got this part for a reason. There was so much sheer pain and desperation in that cry of the magus's name that Saber's voice caught in her throat and stared at the man who was circling the stage, standing proud and tall, but there was just so much anguish on his face as he began his monologue about the man he loved most and the woman he loved most.

Saber sat very still as the play began and he started begging Merlin to take him back to the beginning.

....it was nothing like in her time, true, but the things this monologue got right were much too close to home.

"Ah--" Archer couldn't stop a worried noise from escaping him as the play opened. This was too serious. Weren't these things called musical comedies?

But he silenced himself. Maybe Saber could still find some pleasure in this performance. He couldn't afford to doubt himself now, when he'd already committed to this path.

He relaxes visibly as the atmosphere lightens when the flashback begins.

A much lighter atmosphere when the flashback began as Saber actually managed to relax while Guinevere and 'Wart' discussed the land and marriage. She actually had to fight from laughing whenever Nimue got brought up and kept muttering under her breath about it 'serving him right, the love freak.'

Then the scene changes and Arthur and 'Jenny' talk about needing to establish a knighthood, the idea of Might for Right. It.... hits a few sore spots for Saber, but the scene itself is amusing what with Arthur talking about how he never learned to think and how easy it is for them to talk. Saber smiled a bit at how Gwen was much more intelligent than this 'Jenny' came off as. She had known exactly what she had been doing when she gave her favor to three knights against Lancelot, after all.

When intermission roles around Saber is uncomfortable, but it's not a strange one. The play is an odd mix of seriousness and comedy. Some of it made more serious and comedic by the fact Saber knew how things really went.

There's really only one thing Saber can say when the lights come on for intermission.

"The songs are nice."

Archer spent the whole first act restless. He wasn't really a theater kind of guy, so the amount of attention he could actually pay to the stage was limited. Music was one thing, but Saber's face was far more compelling to him. He kept sliding sidelong glances her way.

Relief made his shoulders sag when Saber finally gave her verdict during intermission. "You think so, huh? That's good."

"Although of all the aspects of my legend to make it to this time, I did not expect 'Wart' to be one of them."

She made a face then, almost a pout. Really, did that awful nickname have to be what survived to the modern day? That warping of 'Art' Kay had done when they were but small children?

It figured the most embarrassing detail would survive somehow. It really, really did.

Surprise flashed into Archer's eyes; was Saber pouting?

He couldn't help but smile. "It's natural, isn't it? People like to know there's something humble in their heroes' origins. And I hate to tell you--" He didn't hate to tell her. "But that detail shows up in most adaptations of your legend."

He glanced away. "Do you want refreshments or anything before the next act, Saber?"

No, he didn't hate to tell her. Not when he got to see her pout get even more pronounced, her eyebrows knitting together in a look of sheer annoyance. Oh, Kay liked to say she was cold when left alone, but he had always known just how to press her buttons and rile her up. It had to be a conspiracy on his part. Somehow, he made it so that awful nickname would survive into this era just to mess with her.

And if not him, it had to be Merlin. Everything always turned out to be that flirt of a magus's fault somehow.

"Kay is a dead man if he ever gets summoned in a future Grail War or brought to this world."

Relief tinged Archer's smile. His plan was succeeding, it seemed: Saber was thinking back on her youth in nostalgic ways. At least, he thought it was nostalgic. She didn't seem devastated or crushed--it was kind of nice to see her irritated and sulking rather than enraged or filled with regret.

"I think that brothers probably naturally torment their sisters like that, Saber. So don't be too hard on him."

"I refuse. If he thinks it's so amusing to let that name live on, he deserves the trouncing I will give him. Perhaps he will be lucky enough to wind up as Archer instead of one of the other classes. The bow is the one thing he could beat me with."

Well. Perhaps for right now it is irritated and sulking. There was still another act to get through, but for now? Sulking. Hard. Not that she would ever admit to sulking.

So it was that when the lights dimmed for the second act, Archer was relaxed and smiling, and Saber was sulking.

He glanced down at the program as the music started to play. "Ah, it looks like Mordred shows up in the second act. I wonder how that will go?" His tone was still light and casual.

Her good (?) mood changed upon the mention of Mordred. Of all the people to show up in the play, she would have been fine, but Mordred was a different story. A thick lump welled up in Saber's throat as she stared at the stage. Even 'Jenny' and 'Lance' did not affect her so bad. No. Mordred was the one who hurt the most.

Mordred was the one who she would see when she left the City and returned to Camlann Hill.

How could Archer, knowing her legend, speak so lightly of her son?

"Saber?" Archer slanted a puzzled glance her way.

In truth, he couldn't imagine it. He couldn't imagine how a parent would feel, to know that her child's blood was on her hands, that everything had gone wrong in her relationship with the son who called her father. All he knew was this: the legend called Mordred Arthur's son. The legend said Mordred slew Arther on Camlann Hill. Those were dry facts, distant from Saber's face next to him, suddenly shocked.

"Ah, sorry. The play's starting again, so we should be quiet."

And then the Mordred that came on stage was so obviously conniving and evil. To this day, Saber has no idea how Morganna birthed the child. Yes, he (?) was a homunculus, but that hadn't mattered to Saber at all.

Mordred saw her as a father, wanted her approval, tried so damned hard to be a perfect knight even if he (?) couldn't quite match up, wanted to be king for her sake. And, as a father should, she had denied him the crown. She couldn't see such innocence crushed under the weight of it, couldn't have born seeing the disappointment on his (?) face if he learned of her deception to the people at large. It hurt to have to act distant when she wanted so desperately to be the parent he wanted her to be.

Unfortunately, Mordred did not have Arturia's even temper. Indeed he (?) was only a toddler as far as mental age was concerned. And he had Morganna and her hatred for anything related to Uther constantly whispering in his ear. Is it any wonder people rallied around him when they began to turn against her?

Her hands tightened on the arm rests as the musical continued until her knuckles were white. It took everything in her not to scream at them that they were insulting Mordred's name, Mordred's memory. That Mordred had been caught up in something bigger than him, not outright trying to manipulate anyone. He was even worse with politics than she was!

Archer wanted Saber to enjoy this, and long ago, he'd been really good at seeing people the way he wanted them. Long ago, he'd been good at seeing Saber as a pure maiden in need of a hero's saving grace.

Rin and his happiness with her had given him back a little of that willful blindness. A little, and that carried him through the next couple of songs. Watching the Arthur and Guinevere on stage desperately attempt to dance their fears away was easy enough, after all, and offered some small reprieve from the matter of Mordred.

But by the time "Fie on Goodness" began, he'd finally noticed that something was up. He could no longer pretend that Saber was happily interested in the play.

"Saber?" he murmured. "Did they get something wrong? Well, it's just fiction--"

Without a word, she gets up and walks toward the exit. It's a good thing she had an aisle seat as it meant she didn't disturb too many people, but she did get looks. Anyone who said anything she simply said 'my stomach' to and headed to the lobby. Once there, she found a bench in an alcove and pressed her face into gloved hands, trying desperately to calm down.

Did.... did people really see Mordred as being so evil? Is that the cost of her legend being so famous? That her one and only son had to be seen as that for doing what he believed was right?

As Saber left, Archer merely stared after her in astonishment. He'd done something wrong, yet again. What was it this time?

After a few moments, he got up himself and hurried after her. Into the near-empty lobby he went, and he approached the bench where she sat.

And then he just stood there, looking awkwardly down at her. He didn't know what to say.

"Do you really hate me so much, Archer?" she asks quietly, not looking up at him. She can't comprehend the fact he had no idea how she would feel about her son being remembered in such a way.

"Did I hurt you so much when I was your Servant that you have to punish me this way?"

It was illogical, yes, but she was upset and, like Mordred, she didn't think clearly when upset and did not have something to focus on such as a battle or another problem or anything to redirect the pain toward. All she could think of was how much Archer talked about 'saving' her and how stupid she was and how he was Kiritsugu's son.

Logic would have reminded her he was still Shirou at his core and Shirou tended to act without thinking.

But logic was currently out to lunch.

The gasp that wrenched out of him at her words: it was like the last breath of a man stabbed.

"Hate you...!" He couldn't do anything but echo her words, a terrible stricken look in his eyes. Archer took a single quick step back and lifted a hand to his heart.

He wouldn't have shown such vulnerability. (Even now, he was cursing himself, as he always cursed himself, for showing such vulnerability.) But this was Saber, and he'd wanted nothing more than to make her happy for once.

"Why else would you take me to a musical that shows my son as evil when he was just a very confused child?"

She was vulnerable, too, the pain clear in her voice and expression despite how desperately she tried to reign it in. She could almost see it now, Mordred's body on top of what felt like a mountain of corpses, the spear she'd used still in his guts because she didn't have the mercy in her to take it out and let him bleed to death. She'd wanted him to last longer, even for a few minutes, to try and say all the things she couldn't.

But she'd been unable to say anything beyond the fact he could not handle the crown and she'd watched the light fade from his eyes and then made her wish.

"Does that 'play' even mention Mordred was only four years old?"

Bewilderment shone in Archer's eyes. For that moment, they didn't look like the eyes of the beaten-down and seasoned warrior he was, but of, well--

Of a very confused child. Was Saber just stuck with people like that forever?

"I've never heard of a telling of the legend that mentioned such a thing, actually. He's...he's always the villain. I suppose there must be some that cast him in a sympathetic light. But it would be rare."

"I.... I see...."

She looked back down at her knees, feeling ill.

"He thought he was doing the right thing. The people had turned against me and he was just so angry because I wouldn't acknowledge him and name him heir. He wanted so desperately to be the perfect knight, to be a hero, and...."

In her mind, it was a miracle she didn't start crying there, though she could feel it stinging at her eyes. No. Not in public. Not in the theater. Not where she could be seen over something so personal.

"....and I took his future away from him. He just wanted me to be his father, nothing more." Something she couldn't give to him.

She stood from the bench, needing to move, needing air, needing to get away from this place where they were singing joyously about a sickening caricature of her son. She headed for the doors, fully expecting Archer to follow her out.

For a long moment, he stood there, benumbed.

The idea of Saber as just someone's parent--he couldn't fathom it. He'd rested too many of his own hopes and ideals upon her, just as so many others had done in his place. Thinking of this, he watched her go with only the faintest shocked expression.

A minute later, he hurried after her, leaving behind the songs and the dance. He didn't care about any of that, anyway. All of this had just been an attempt to make Saber happy, a hope to make her smile.

It had, of course, failed disastrously. Regret for that was written all over his face now as he chased after her, despite his cold attempts to keep it hidden.

"Saber!"

She was halfway down the block when she heard him call her by her title, her demeanor to anyone who knew her perfectly calm and collected.

But anyone who knew her would know she didn't normally walk with her hands buried in her pockets, nor did she normally stare completely straight ahead. Her eyes were normally sweeping the entire scene before her, even when relaxed, unless she was intent on something.

The only thing she was intent on now was moving, anything but sitting still. She didn't stop when, predictably, Archer called her name. She did, however, slow down so the taller man could catch up to her more easily. When he finally caught up to her, she only stopped walking when they reached the crosswalk and had to wait for the light to changed.

"I apologize for my reaction back there. You do not have a truly malicious bone in your body." For anyone but himself, anyway. "You did not know how I would react to seeing Mordred portrayed so."

"I apologize for my outburst."

By the time he caught up with her, his heart was jumping furiously in his throat. Not from the exertion, of course--it hadn't been that bad. No, it was shame and regret and anger that hammered at him now, all directed at himself.

And hearing Saber's cool apology only made it worse. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Malice doesn't matter. I was an idiot," he said flatly. "How could I forget, Saber? How did I forget, even now, that you're a gentle person and would take no pleasure in such a scene?"

Of course, it wasn't as if he knew about the musical's treatment of Mordred--but he could have guessed that any show about Arthurian legend would treat Mordred harshly, and that Saber would not want to see that. At least, that was what he told himself.

"If I were a gentle person, then how could I kill my own son?"

She turned to him then, the pain clear on her face as she looked up at him. Selfish as it was, the most painful part about returning to Camlann Hill between Wars would always be seeing Mordred's body there.

"If I were a gentle person, how come I could not find another way? I managed to stop all out civil war with minimal bloodshed, why could I not stop my own son and his rebellion?"

Because there had to have been something, anything, that could have gotten Mordred to see reason. He (?) was as unreasonable as Kay sometimes to the point she sometimes wondered if Morganna had gotten 'materials' from Kay as well.

Wherever she got them from. Saber had never found out just where her blood-sister had gotten what was required to create a homunculus like Mordred.

"If I were a gentle person, Archer, how come I could not even let down my guard enough to be the father he wanted me to be?" Why couldn't she just tell him her secret? Let him into the circle so he could understand why she was so distant to everyone? Why couldn't she explain to him her reasoning behind denying him recognition and the Throne?

....she knows why. Because with how much Mordred idolized her, she did not want to crush his views of her. He wanted his Father to be Arthur, not Arturia. How would he have reacted if he found out the Father he worshiped had never existed and was nothing but a farce?

Probably the same way, if she ever sat down and thought about it.

Archer stood there, dumbstruck by this sudden and strange confession, and he listened, though the pain on Saber's face and in her voice made him want to turn away and stop up his ears.

He owed her this much, now.

He didn't speak until it became clear her words were finished. Then, with them still ringing in his ears, he said in a pained tone of his own, "I don't know, Saber. I don't know why you felt you had to harden your kind heart like that. But I know that kind heart exists. Even when half my past is worn away like sand in the winds of time and bloodshed, Saber--I remember your devotion to one foolish boy. I remember your gentle manner as a guest in that home. I remember that the dream you believed in was beautiful to you and filled your heart in a way it never could mine."

By those last words, his voice was raw and the emptiness in his eyes acute.

If she were anyone else and they were not on the street, she would have probably held him upon seeing that emptiness in his eyes; would have begged him to tell her what had happened to him.

"I never did tell you much about myself, did I? I never even told you my name or anything about my past beyond talking about Merlin and his trysts."

With how inexperienced Shirou was, it was too dangerous. His mind could have been taken over and he would have been forced to divulge her secrets to people who would use it against them. In fact, the thing she feared may have almost happened when Caster had drawn him to her only to be stopped by Archer.

But this is not the Grail War and she knows Archer can put up a fight in such a situation.

"It's strange. We have been here for several months and what do we really know about one another? I always thought if I could stay in the modern era, I could become quite close to Shirou and Rin." At this point in the conversation 'Shirou' and 'Archer' were the same person in her mind. The man before her was a possible future, true, but that did not make him any less Shirou.

It only made the look in his eye break her heart all the more.

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ITP: Camelot

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