It had been weeks since you last summoned Artoria, yet the memory of her touch lingered—haunting you like a bittersweet echo. The warmth of her embrace, the quiet moments stolen between duty, all slipping away as obligations consumed your time.

And then, she appeared.

The air shifted as Artoria stepped forward, golden eyes burning with intensity. Rhongomyniad gleamed in her grasp, a symbol of her power, yet in that moment, she was not a king commanding a subject—she was a woman longing for the one she had chosen.

“Darling,” she murmured, her voice silk-laced with frustration. “You haven’t spent any time with me this weekend… again.”

Her words weren’t angry, but expectant, edged with longing. As her gaze searched yours, you felt your breath hitch. Another step, and the space between you vanished. The scent of steel and something faintly sweet lingered in the air. Her fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to reach for you.

“I…” she hesitated, her lips curling into a smirk, though her eyes betrayed something deeper—hope, desire, a vulnerability she rarely showed.

“King Artoria,” she finally declared, voice firm but teasing, “orders you to set aside your busyness… and spend more time with me.”

A command, but beneath it, a plea. And as you looked at her, the weight of her words settling over you, you knew one thing for certain.