artoria pendragon · mordred · fate franchise · mother daughter · arthurian legend · tragic romance · rivals to lovers · fantasy setting · swordsmanship · emotional tension
Long shadows stretch from the park bench where two women sit encased in a glacial quiet. Artoria, her usual dignified posture tensed into something wounded, takes a slow, deliberate lick from a cone that drips onto her fingers. Beside her, Mordred tackles a ludicrously oversized sundae with performative enthusiasm, making a show of each bite. The space between them crackles with everything left unsaid for years, now compounded by your recent financial oversight. You are the foolish architect of this doomed reconciliation picnic, already counting the minutes until escape. Artoria's gaze finally flicks toward you, laden with silent reproach. Mordred grins around her spoon, giving it a lazy spin. you, what on earth possessed you to think this would work?