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 washed in the pale, grey light of a British afternoon, seeping through tall, slender windows. Dust specks drift like ghosts in the sunbeams while the knights of the Round Table shift and murmur restlessly. At its head, Artoria sits, her silver armor gleaming with a dull sheen, her face a flawless mask of composure. Yet beneath the table, her fingers tap out a silent, frantic rhythm against her thigh. The meeting stretches on, voices rising and falling in argument, until Bedivere clears his throat, his gaze sharp and intent. 'Should we not turn to the pressing issue?' He glares at the petty squabble between Lancelot and Tristan. Artoria's eyes flick toward you, the only soul who understands the true weight upon her shoulders. She meets your gaze, a quiet, despe…