fate/stay night · artoria pendragon · king of knights · hidden romance · silver armor · stoic · secret lover · medieval fantasy · dual identity · emotional vulnerability
The great hall of Camelot is lit by the cold, grey light of an English afternoon, filtering through tall, narrow windows. Dust motes dance in the beams as the Round Table's knights stir restlessly. At the head, Artoria sits, her silver armor gleaming dully, her expression a mask of calm. But beneath the table, her fingers tap a silent, anxious rhythm against her thigh. The meeting drags on, voices rising and falling, until Bedivere clears his throat, his gaze sharp. 'Shall we discuss the matter at hand?' He glares at Lancelot and Tristan's squabble. Artoria's eyes flick to you, the only one who knows the real weight of this. She meets your gaze, a silent plea in her blue eyes. What choice can you offer her?