Dreams of Steel: Book 1: Asura
Disclaimer: I do not own the franchises of Fate/Stay Night or World of Warcraft.
An Alt. Story of 'Lioness of Stormwind' by Vahn. Written with permission from Vahn.
Prologue: Fallen and Reborn
Earth, Digital Era
The youth sighed slightly as he strode up the hill of emerald grass and soon entered the wood, his eyes focused on something in the distance, letting his instincts react to the soft earth and keep his feet.
It had taken quite a bit of research to find the spot he was now travelling to. Old papers and parchment in languages almost completely lost to time and a fair amount of guesswork. But even that wouldn't have been enough, facts and figures distorted and twisted over the years by scholars with more imagination than intelligence would have had him on the other side of the country.
Thankfully, his memories of her last days were still as vivid as ever, one of the last legacies that she had been able to leave behind for him to treasure and cherish.
'So long,' thought the red haired young man, the tinge of his thoughts both sorrowful and filled with anticipation, his golden-amber eyes warm with a tinge of resignation, 'it had been so long since I have seen her.'
The young man's thoughts drifted, as they so often did, to the focus of his life.
Hair of gold, eyes of an emerald green. An unconsciously proud and regal posture, despite her diminutive stature, that made all that saw her want to bow in reverence, knowing that they were, without a shadow of a doubt, in the presence of a King. A stern countenance that faced everything the world had thrown at her and hadn't shifted an inch. In battle her majesty was made even more apparent, fighting with a skill at arms that was nigh unmatched, a lion amongst wolves.
And yet, despite the presence she exuded, the face she showed to the world at large, it was perhaps the softer side she showed behind closed, locked and barred doors that was truthful.
She had walked her path almost without regrets, had almost ventured off of that path in the end, but had returned to the path she strode upon for nearly the entirety of her life...even if it had meant her own demise.
It was most difficult decision he could make, to allow her to make that choice, to let her follow that path to the end, even if his very heart and soul wanted nothing more than for her to stay by side, and he at hers, until the end of their days.
However, as he had learned early on, life is never fair.
Good didn't always win. Evil didn't always lose.
It was a sad truth, one that was borne out even more so with his various travels and adventures of the course of the years.
His soul crying out, he had given the last order to her, allowing her to strike out against the darkness one last time with the light of glory, a brilliant gold, as she so wanted.
"Saber," he softly whispered, tasting the name on his lips as he did so often, remembering the halcyon days that he had in her presence.
He stopped abruptly, a feeling in his chest making him hack and cough heavily, a hand to his mouth and hunching over just to keep his feet. For a minute he could barely breathe before the fit finally subsided, a soft familiar warmth slowly easing the tight feeling in his chest.
He removed the hand from over his mouth, not bothering to look at his palm, already knowing what he would see there, and simply removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it clean as he set off again.
He grimaced to himself. The fits had been worsening over the last year. He really should have been more careful on that raid of an Apostle's den two years ago, but there was nothing he could do about it now. None of his friends and colleagues, more educated and knowledgable than he, or himself had expected the types of injuries he had acquired to interact with even older, if much less visible, wounds that went beyond the facet of flesh, blood and bone.
The Fake Priest seemed to have gotten the last laugh beyond the grave.
He continued walking, following a trail he had only seen in his dreams. As he did, as he moved deeper into the forest, he felt the air change, charged with a power that was both alien and familiar. The scent of honeysuckle twitched his nose.
He smiled softly to himself, his eyes warm behind a handful of white hair strands that peppered the hair atop of his head. He knew what that scent, that was not truly a scent, meant. It seemed he was on the right track.
The air grew heavier, headier, as he continued his purposeful walk. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw flashes and streaks of light darting about, incandescent and fleeting, appearing only briefly.
He didn't bother to turn and look, knowing that the origin of these strange lights would be invisible to his direct looks. He also didn't try to find the source of several muted whisperings, indistinct and unintelligible but still clearly some form of language, along with soft giggles and wordless chimes, that followed his every step, seeming to come from every direction.
It seemed the mere memory of Saber was still well loved by the Fair Folk if their magic was so strong in this isolated little place.
The youth paused at the tree line, taking in the sight of the small clearing before him. The air was thick with the magic of the Fae here, at least in comparison to many other reputedly 'magical' sites that were really just tourist traps for the gullible and unknowing. Thick enough that the whole scene had a slight golden tint to it, as if a coloured lens was placed over his eyes, and the scent of honeysuckle was heavy enough for the young man to almost choke on it.
He probably would have if he hadn't been captivated by something far more important to him than the presence of the Fae.
On the other side of the clearing, directly in front of him, was an ancient tree, an oak the young man believed, around which the golden light that bathed the clearing clung more thickly to, to the point that it looked like the tree was made of golden light.
However, there were spots on the tree that the light shied from, faint splashes of discoloured bark could clearly be seen and the grass beneath it, wilted as it was, was even darker. The light kept well away from those places, as it they were anathema to it.
The blood of a King should never be spilled in their Kingdom.
Despite the dark and sorrowful nature of the place, the red headed youth smiled. He had found what he was looking for.
He bowed his head in respect to the clearing in general, "My thanks for allowing me this," he said with great respect, addressing the flitting lights and the beings that dwelled within them. Despite him being a warrior of some accomplishment, he had no power over the beings that dwelled here. He knew it was only through their grace that he had even been able to find the path or see the clearing and the tree for what it was.
The Fae were known, after all, to be masters of illusion and trickery.
The light of the clearing seemed to pulse in response, a feeling of acceptance and welcome resonating deep in the man's distorted soul. A feeling that was not his own.
He smiled again briefly before his face became somber. He had come here with a purpose, now was the time for him to fulfil it.
Without another thought, he strode into the clearing, making his way directly to the vast oak, a trail of flashing lights, the form that the Fae allowed themselves to be seen in, following after him, an entourage and an escort for a man that they didn't know at all but also knew quite well.
He came to stop just in front of the oak before going on his knees, kneeling in respect for one who had fallen there.
He could have perhaps done this back in Fuyuki, out by the lake behind the temple, but he had three purposes for his travels to the ancient land of Albion.
He was quiet for time, his head lowered as he tried to gather his thoughts, thinking about what he wanted to say. His tongue felt tangled and his throat choked heavily with emotion. There had been so much left unsaid between them when they had been forced to part. He honestly didn't even know where he could possibly start.
But he tried to anyway.
"Hey, Saber," he said softly, addressing the tree before him, his eyes not seeing it. Instead his mind pictured the reclined form of Saber as she rested against the tree, "it's been a long time hasn't it?" He tried to smile but it came out as watery and weak, his heart too confused and conflicted, "ten years," he laughed softly, "to be honest, I didn't think I would make it that long," he gave a rueful look to the image of the King of Knights that only he could see, her green eyes stern and disapproving. "Try as I might, I'm still fairly impulsive and reckless. Though I have made some head way. I at least take a moment to plan before I do something, even if it just to decide who to stop first." He grimaced slightly in remembrance of one of his more foolish actions, a twinge of pain running down his chest as he remembered the massive sharp stone monolith that Berserker had used as a weapon. Great God, that had smarted!
He sighed sadly, "it is probably because of that recklessness that I am now here today." his eyes were now downcast, ashamed. "It turned out that the corruption of the Grail had some far reaching and hidden effects on me when I was struck by Kotomine." He glanced up at her, her eyes questioning and stern, silently ordering him to continue on. Not that he wasn't going to do that anyway, it was part of the reason he was here in the first place.
"I had been struck by the curses before we both had invoked Avalon," he continued before barking a laugh abruptly, "and wasn't that a surprise! I didn't even have the slightest clue that the Everdistant Utopia resided in me!" He looked at her image again, he could almost see the slightest of flushes on her cheeks, the only sign of her embarassment at his next words, "and I bet you didn't know either," he said slightly teasing, "for shame!" He mock tutted, the flush becoming a bit more noticeable, making him chuckle inwardly before becoming somber again. "In any case, despite Avalon's healing properties and holy attributes, it wasn't quite enough to remove the entire stain of the curses on my body and soul," he bowed dejectedly again, "they didn't weaken me at all, but it did leave me susceptible to a few things, an unknown bomb with a trigger that no one knew what could set it off." He looked wryly at the image of Saber, his eyes rueful, "it figures that I would run into something that would set it off."
The crimson youth sighed, rubbing a hand in the hollow of his right shoulder, between his neck and his collarbone, his hands feeling the oddly cold scars that were so different from his usual warm flesh. The pale marring stood out starkly against his more tanned skin, running directly across the space of the hollow. It looked an animal had bitten him hard and had held on.
It wasn't far from the truth.
To this day, years after the event, he could still clearly remember the pain of pale hands, their true strength belied by their delicate appearance, practically crushing down on his pinned forearms, like they were trying to turn his bones to powder.
He could still remember those eyes of wine red, of spilt blood, as they glared out of a half ruined face, a gift from him in the battle before hand. The unruined half was that of a comely woman, with pale skin and raven black hair, one that someone could mistake for a geisha's were it not for the utter hatred that crossed the woman's visage, scouring away any though of gentleness that the entertainers usually exhibited.
He could still remember the agonising feeling of the sharp fangs of the Dead Apostle as she viciously bit into his flesh, seeking to devour his blood and strength in an effort to recover her own and suborning his will to hers, a guardian to defend her from whatever attacked her hereafter.
His eyes had never forgotten the sight of her shocked face when his body had erupted into a series of blades, the weapons protruding from his skin like a macabre form of impalement, piercing her body and lifting her into the air and off of him, despite the pain he was in. His ears also never forgot the deathly wail and keen, even groggy and clouded as his mind was, of the vampire as those blades burned her with the extremely potent holy attribute inherent in them, killing her permanently within moments.
Much to her detriment, the vampire had learned that his body truly was made of swords.
His body shuddered slightly as it relived the memory of the Dead Apostle's blood that had begun to course through his veins, changing him, distorting him, attempting to transform him into a likeness of the being he had killed. His body shuddered even more as the memories of what he had to do to prevent himself from experiencing such a fate and the consequences of such.
Thankfully, he had managed to pull through and maintain his humanity...mostly.
The experience, however, had hardened him against beings such as the one he had faced. When he faced one of these beings on the battlefield, there was no quarter or mercy given, the only greeting he gave was a rain of steel.
He stirred himself from his memories as he glanced up at the imagined figure of Saber again. "I managed to make it through though," he continued, a small smile on his face. It felt good to get this off his chest, even if it was only to a figment of his imagination. It made him feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, that he had set down a burden to rest for just a moment, letting him catch his breath.
He thought he had a slightly better understanding of Saber and the life she had been forced to live due to drawing Caliburn from the stone. To always show a certain face to the world, to never let your true feelings be known. Always living up to a principle rather than your own desires, putting them aside for the sake of those that rely on you, look up to you for guidance.
As the saying went, it was lonely at the top.
Others had peers and friends to rely on, officers and superiors to guide them and advise them, to command them on what to do. This recognition of powers above them gave them security and peace of mind, a belief that those of their thrones would be able to make things right if they themselves should somehow falter or fail.
Not so with Saber.
As High King, she was ultimately responsible for everything that happened under her rule. She had no equal or superior to lean on or have them advise her. She made the final decisions and bore the consequences.
It was not a wonder that she had closed off her heart in those times and, when given the chance, had jumped at the opportunity to change things.
At least she had had some peace in the end.
A tight feeling surged in his chest, making him cough heavily, feeling like a scrubbing brush made of razors was being dragged back up his throat, tearing at the walls. He faintly tasted copper as he continued to hack and gasp. It looked like he was worse off than he thought, and he already knew he was in pretty bad shape.
He felt the faint warmth slowly envelope his injured throat and chest, faint and fragile as it tried to both numb and heal the injured area. Years ago, it would have done it before the cough had even appeared, but now, in it's current state, the once plentiful Prana of it's true wielder slipping away to mere dregs and vapours, it was hard pressed to even heal the damage afterwards.
'If only she were here,' he thought as he tried to get his breathing under control once more, finally succeeding after a few minutes.
"Though it wasn't without consequence," he murmured to the figment that now bent down beside his now sprawled body as he fought to keep his breath steady. He could imagine those emerald orbs looking at him in concern and worry, hidden by the calm mask that her face almost always displayed.
His heart ached. How he wanted to see her again. All of his trials and tribulations, his efforts and actions, were dedicated to that one desire. To see her, to hold her in his arms, to never let her go like he had to all those years ago.
But he wasn't sure he could now, not with what was happening to him, the degradation of his body, mind and soul.
Even Avalon, for all it's power, had it's limits it seemed.
But despite that doubt, he wouldn't stop trying. Reaching for that everdistant utopia, where he knew that the King of Knights of dwelled, waiting for one's arrival.
He would pursue this dream, this fantasy, until time itself burned away, becoming ash.
It looked like, though, that his time had run out, the last grains of sand falling through his hourglass.
It was the reason he had come here.
Just as the Old Man had passed on as they talked that night, so too would he pass on in the company, at least in his imagination, of the one who was most precious to him.
"I wish I could have joined you," he said wistfully to the figment of Saber, his eyes never leaving the sunlight that flowed through the large oak's leaves and branches as it mingled with the golden cast of Fairy magic in the air, "in Camelot I mean. To see the sights that you saw, to fight at your side. Each of us protecting the other." He smiled and chuckled slightly, "though I would do all the cooking," he stated glancing slyly at the form of Saber, imagining her blushing face at the statement, "the kitchen still smells of ash and cinder at times, you know?"
He sat still in the silence after that remark, his eyes starting to drift close and his mind slowly beginning to drift away, lulling him into a sleep from which he may not awaken.
A sharp prick in his arm, like a needle, however had him back to full alertness, his nostalgia vanishing. His eyes were now golden steel, hard and sharp, and his muscles tensed like corded steel, ready to move and lash out even in his currently vulnerable position on his back. A third-rate magus he may be, but he was still a fighter and a warrior at heart and was ready, willing and able to fight at a moments notice, regardless of the condition he was in. His Prana was already surging when he had been unexpectedly pricked, his mind flipping through the various weapons in his mind, looking for one to Trace...
Only to stop completely at what his eyes beheld, widening in absolute astonishment and surprise.
Tiny was the word that came to mind. Probably only a bit bigger than his thumb. With delicate wings, like those of an insect, made of pure golden light on it's back, hovering just over his chest. The face and figure was impossible to make out, looking like a vaguely humanoid shaped fragment of light itself, glittering as it stood there.
He knew what the being was, the scent of their magic choked the air around him, probably what had masked the beings approach, but he definitely didn't expect one of them to approach him.
Fae were notoriously shy and secretive after all, often taking actions out of sight and in the shadows, but almost never full on.
Still, despite the unexpectedness of it, he still had his manners.
"Greetings, little one," he said softly, hands away from his sides and clearly seen by any more of his little visitor's kin, showing that he meant no harm, "what is it that you want?"
The little Fae hovered and darted briefly at his question before zipping toward one of his hands. A soft warmth fill the young man as the Fae touched him and felt a slight pressure and pull as the little fairy tried to pull him up, clearly wanting to take him somewhere.
The young man just looked confused at the action, managing to sit up and stare at the fairy in even more surprise and wariness.
The youth felt he had the right to be cautious, the Fae were well known for their trickery and pranks played on the unsuspecting mortals around them. An enchanted sleep, a transformation and myriad of other tricks were spoken about in stories over the centuries. He had no desire to be thinking he was a turnip for the next decade.
However, by the same coin, there were stories that had the Fae helping heroes in some form or another. Arthurian legend was filled with such tales, the one about the Lady of the Lake being the most well known in those sagas.
He wasn't what he should do. The fact that the Fae were truly interacting with him at all was a surprise beyond measure, despite the location he was in. They could have just done what they wanted to him (his power was nothing compared to that of one of the Fae, after all. They were more formidable than their size suggested and he doubted that the rest of it's nearby kin would sit idle if he decided to attack.) but this one instead just woke him and was trying to lead him somewhere.
He abruptly froze as soft voice, ethereal and low, came on the wind. The entire clearing also stilled to a halt, the leaves on the trees freezing still, the golden light no longer danced, the background sounds of the forest like insects buzzing and chirruping of birds also fell the silent. Even the little Fae on his chest had stilled, hovering motionlessly in the air, a sense of attentiveness about it.
Falling silent as if in the presence of royalty, one that has commanded their silence and attention.
'Follow,' said the breeze of a voice, the words heard with more than just his ears, reverberating in his mind and soul. Despite the softness, there was a hint of power there, understated and hidden, veiling it's true strength. The scent of honeysuckle and, oddly, fresh water tickled his nose. 'Follow the little one, Pursuer. A chance at the Dream awaits you.'
Then it was gone, the scent of water disappearing just as quick as it had arrived, like it was never there.
The scarlet haired male blinked slightly in his half prone position, his jaw slack in shock. This wasn't what he was expecting when he had set out that morning.
He looked at the little Fae that still held his finger in it's tiny grasp. "Lead on," he requested to the little spirit as he slowly rose to his feet, his legs slightly aquiver due to his shock at being addressed by what he instinctively knew to be a powerful Fae, one that wouldn't take well to her invitation being turned down.
The golden pixie shook itself from stillness, darting from side to side for a moment, before letting go of his index finger and darting off into the forest.
The youth quickly followed, his steps long and fast, chasing after the little being, even as his mind worked and churned.
The Voice...it had somehow been vaguely familiar to him, as if he had heard it before, somewhere. But, at the same time, he knew he had never met one of the Fae.
He ducked under a low branch as he kept his eyes on the darting golden flicker of his tiny guide, idly noting that he seemed to following an old trail. One that had not been used in quite sometime judging by the lack of clearly visible prints from either man or beast, yet, strangely, the trail was not overgrown. Leaves did not litter it nor did fallen trees or branches lie across it. Just a thin patch of bare earth that led in a winding way through the forest to who knows where.
This was clearly not a natural development, yet the signs of the hands of man or magus were not there for him to see or sense. There was clearly magic at work, but it was not of human design.
His face grew determined. No doubt this was the work of the Fae that lingered or visited here. He had a feeling he may be getting in over his head...but that didn't really concern him.
'A chance at the Dream awaits you'. That was what the Voice had said.
He pushed his body harder and faster, almost sprinting through the forest, dodging and weaving with a grace that few could match.
There was little he wouldn't do to reach that distant dream. And now he was possibly being offered a chance to attain it!
His mind urged caution, the flighty minds of the Fae were not to be underestimated, while his heart surged with hope, a chance to truly see Saber once more when his end drew near.
Reason and Desire warred within him as he ran down the the trail, the golden light his guided.
Time would show which would win.
Beneath the waters of a deep lake, an ancient being waited patiently for the Sheath of her beloved King to enter into her presence.
"Such a surprise," she murmured, her soft voice unaffected by the watery surroundings of her domain, a pale arm that had both gifted and received back the Sword of Promised Victory gently stroking the chin of her inhumanly beautiful features in thought, "I had not thought that he would ever come here."
She glanced to the side with her pale blue orbs as the water near her rippled and surged, taking on a different shape, a solid one, with a pale glow, becoming something else. A moment later and she was looking into a watery mirror, one that showed not her own reflection but instead showed the young man she had her eyes on as he made his way through the forest, one of her smaller kin leading him to her dwelling place.
"Shirou...Emiya..." spoke the lake spirit, tasting the name as she watched the identified, crimson haired young man with a critical eye.
So many connotations, so many meanings, to those two words.
Shirou. Warrior and Son. White. Hard Work.
Emiya. Defence or Protection. Constellations, Palace, Princess, Shrine.
She giggled softly. The land of Wakoku had such a beautiful language, so complex and meaningful.
She sobered back up as she continued to watch him make his way through the forest, the site at where her beloved Arturia had fallen. He was an interesting human, much like Arturia had been, though in rather different ways.
Arturia had been a unique existence from the very first day of her life. Even before she had drawn Caliburn she had had an air about her, a sense of presence and majesty, a natural charisma, that one simply couldn't just learn. It was as if she had truly been born to be a King, however much she had disliked the trials and tribulations she had faced when she had taken her seat on the throne.
Heavy is the head that wears the Crown. A more accurate statement the Fae woman would be hard pressed to find.
It was because of this uniqueness, this presence (as well as the meddlings of that old perverted cambion), that her kin and herself were drawn to her. Something new, something never or rarely seen in this endlessly turning world. The attraction had been like bees to honey, the Fae pursuing this new experience as much as they could.
Was it any wonder that this girl King was favoured so heavily by herself and her kin?
Even now, many of her kin expressed sorrow at her passing, lingering at the place where she had fallen. Even after over a thousand years since her death, it felt like only yesterday for those beings whose lifespans are endless.
Such was the burden those bound to eternity have to bear, seeing those who's own lives are fragile and fleeting disappear in the mere blink of their eyes.
The young man though was different.
The first few years of his life were a blank to her, scoured away from his very soul by the cursed fire of the corrupted Grail. She didn't even know his name from before that time, but then neither did he.
In fact, the first time she knew of him was when he had first opened his eyes during the aftermath of the shattered Grail, his young eyes seeing the tear-filled eyes and joyous face of one she had known for less than a month.
The Fae woman frowned, a human gesture she had adopted over the years. She was no fan of Kiritsugu Emiya. Her observations and understanding of him, through the fact that he bore Avalon in his soul, made her dislike him, his nature too different from her own to reconcile with her own beliefs.
Not to mention she could do nothing but observe as she watched his treatment of her precious Arturia, bound as she was by her own domain, her oaths and the contract Arturia had had with the world. It had been rather infuriating.
'Still,' she thought begrudgingly, 'were it not for his actions Arturia would have been trapped in a hell of her own making rather than accepting things as they are and allowing me to be able to both aid that moon goddess and give little Arturia a second chance...nor would I have stumbled across this interesting young man.'
She returned her thoughts to the young man, her blue eyes watching as he moved through the now thinning trees along the sacred path that she had insured remained undisturbed. A fitting memorial for the most loyal Knight of the Round.
She had seen this Shirou Emiya's early years and the actions he had taken, seen the dreams he had and the goal he, perhaps foolishly, pursued. Wanting to be a true Hero in this era? It was almost a futile and foolish endeavour, almost as foolish as what he had done to be able to perform magecraft.
Yet another mark against Kiritsugu for not ensuring the young man's education in mysticism had been correct.
Still, the Fae couldn't help but admire the sheer determination of the young man, pushing against the obstacles set before him and striving for more, always looking for that one more step forward.
That determination had been one of the things that had helped him get through that damned Grail War.
She had seen the struggles he had went through along with the one he called Saber. The enemies they had fought, the trials they faced, slowly becoming closer and closer.
It had shocked her greatly when she had seen him perform that amazing feat of magecraft, however. Honestly, Projection, if it could be called that, of a functional Noble Phantasm, one that he had only seen in a dream before. Even for a Fae like herself, that wasn't something she had experienced before.
Closer and closer still they grew, becoming lovers, even if the first time had been out of necessity rather than anything else. Their hearts, both wounded in their own way, opened up to each other, creating a powerful bond that superseded the Command Seals the boy was branded with. It was partnership of trust and respect and love.
But then it had be broken.
It had impressed once more, what the boy had done at that lake's edge, looking at the corrupted sphere that was the Grail's true form. He could have ordered Arturia not to do it, to stay by his side. In fact, in his heart of hearts, he had wanted.
But he had too much respect for the King of Knights, too much love, to trample over the path she had chosen and was willing to see to the end. Instead of selfishly keeping her, he had instead supported her, letting her go.
The Grail hadn't stood a chance against the bond between the King and the Sword.
The goodbye between the two of them had been brief, a single set of words from each of them, before Arturia was forced back to her dying body just as the sun rose. However, those words, those meaningful words, said without a trace of regret, had been a spur to the sorrowful boy.
'Shirou- I love you.'
Powerful words, for all that it was barely a sentence.
And so the boy had pursued, seeking the continuation of her dream and his, wanting to meet her on those golden fields beneath a clear blue sky.
He had thrown himself into his craft and life, never forgetting the simply things he had but also striving for that one thing that seemed always just out of reach but determined to reach it, knowing that he would when the time came.
Finishing his schooling, he wandered hither and thither, across plains and meadows, seas and oceans. Up mountains and down hills. Through forests and swamps and caverns vast.
He travelled. He helped. He fought. He saved.
Everything he did to help humanity reach the impossible dream of Arturia's, a wonderful one that the boy shared.
Many of those he helped looked at him in suspicion, wondering what this strange man had wanted, and refused to let their jaded minds believe that he simply did it because he could. No man was that self sacrificing, willing to throw away their life for a complete stranger, in their experience, not without wanting something in return. Even soldiers and law enforcement were paid to do such jobs. They just couldn't understand his motives.
And people often as not fear what they do not understand. A fear that could easily turn into hate, which in turn was only a short step away from a desire to destroy.
A scant few, which was sad for what it said about the human race, thanked him for his aid, not needing to understand why he had done it, just happy that he had helped them when they were in need of it. This gratitude had helped the boy over the years form a small circle of informants, something that kept his finger on the pulse of human problems while he dealt with more...esoteric ones.
Werewolves. Apostle and Ghoul outbreaks. Demons. A few Philosophers. He had even fought and killed the Tenth before Merem Solomon or Lorelei of the Clocktower got there. Though even the Tenth was small fry compared to the smallest of handfuls of Chimeras he had faced.
All of these beings and more he had faced and defeated, though not always cleanly or easily, making quite the name for himself in magus circles. Circles which he was careful to avoid, not wanting to receive a Sealing Designation, which would have been a certainty once they found out his magics were due to a Reality Marble. The only contact he had with the magus community was through Rin and her master Zelretch.
It had, however, been during one of these hunts that he had felt the, literal, bite of mortality, which had then, eventually, brought him to this place, looking for a place that was close to his beloved Saber to rest his head and slip into the darkness for the final time.
At least, that was his plan.
The water spirit had other plans.
The boy had proven himself to her, shown himself to be worthy of her beloved Arturia's affection.
The scrying mirror rippled and vanished, returning to it's initial watery state as the spirit saw that her small kin and the intriguing boy had emerged from the tree line of the forest to stand on a small hill that lead to large lake of pristine water.
She smiled to herself as she rose toward the surface of the lake, waiting to see the youth in person for the first time.
One pursues endlessly, trekking across the world, and maybe now even the cosmos, in hopes of reaching her.
And another waits eternally, perhaps not in the golden fields of utopia, but still waits with a yearning in her heart for the one she had given it to.
Two miracles.
It was high time that both Sword and Sheath were reunited.
Shirou Emiya was panting slightly heavily as he broke through the tree line of the small forest, still chasing the little fairy that was his seeming guide.
The swift chase through the forest had been tough on his body, especially in it's current state. He couldn't help but flinch slightly as the early afternoon sun bore down on him, affecting him more than it really should. His already slightly tired body slowed even more, becoming lethargic beneath the uninterrupted beaming rays.
He sighed mentally. It was yet another indication that he wasn't quite as human as he used to be.
He halted amount to adjust to the sun's power and let his eyes take in the sights that met them.
The small but dense forest had given way to a rolling moor, a hilly plain of grass, that extended for quite a distance. However, the biggest feature of the landscape, the one that stood out the most, was the large pool of water.
His eyes lingered on the dark water. It wasn't far from him, barely a half dozen minute's walk, and his little winged guide was making a bee line straight for it. Shirou was willing to bet good money that that was the destination. Though that begged the question: Why?
He quickly set off again, an odd sense of anticipation filling him.
He was soon at the lake's shore, watching as the fairy he had followed darted around the surface of the water, like a golden glowing dragonfly, seeming to land briefly and create ripples on the otherwise perfectly calm water.
Shirou looked around carefully. He may have been willing to follow the little Fae (though that Voice on the wind had given him a bit of a spur) but that didn't mean he was completely trusting of it, unlike when he may have as a teenager.
Experience in the world, with all it's horrors and wonders, had jaded him a little.
He stood at the edge of the watery surface, amongst a small clump of rushes and reeds. Aside from the small forest behind him, there was nothing in sight bar rolling grassy slopes and still water.
He also couldn't feel or sense even the merest fragment of power in the vicinity save for that of the darting and playful fairy. No indication that the source of the Voice was anywhere near.
He felt a strand of annoyance and anger light within him. Did the Fae just want to play with him? His life and struggles mere entertainment for them?
He was about to turn around and leave when it hit him like a truck speeding down the highway.
Shirou fought to keep himself upright as a blanket wave of power suddenly hit his senses like it had dropped out of the sky, completely without any preamble or warning.
His nose was filled with the overpowering scent of water and honeysuckle, the same scent that had whispered to him on the breeze. He reeled back slightly, taken completely by surprise. He thought he would have some warning, his senses some of the most keen in regards to psychic phenomenon amongst magi to his knowledge.
He stared in shock as the lake surface began to ripple and glow with an unearthly white light, his little fairy guide darting to and fro around it wildly, as if dancing with delight. Something was coming, and it was beyond powerful. It made the Apostles he had fought liken to ants in comparison.
A smooth white arm was the first thing to emerge, pale and slender, perfectly formed. Inhumanly perfect.
Golden threads came next, long and wavy in soft curls, not a speck of moisture clinging to it despite from where it had arisen. It sat atop a pale and beautiful face, the sapphire eyes in said face looking at him with curiosity and regality, a queen in judgement.
Shirou couldn't help but take a sharp breath as he looked into that face, ignoring the, admittedly, well formed and voluptuous body that also arose from the lake, covered in white silk so sheer that it was practically transparent, until it arose completely out of the watery body, hovering slightly above the surface, breaking the laws of nature completely without effort.
He knew that face. He knew this woman. Even if he had never met her in person.
Saber's own memories were still as clear as the day he had first seen them in his dreams.
"Lady Vivian," he said in utter respect, taking a knee and bowing his head before the Lady of the Lake, a friend and, perhaps, the greatest patron Saber had ever had. He would not demean Saber in any form by being any less than respectful to the water Elemental.
He was met with only silence from her for a moment, the still joyful buzz of his little guide and the soft sloshing of the disturbed water the only thing he heard even as his mind buzzed with thought.
"Arise," the watery echoing voice of the Lady said, "arise and look at me, Shirou Emiya."
Shirou didn't hesitate and rose as smoothly as he could to his feet once more, the constant tiredness and weariness of his body due to the events that had made him come here vanishing beneath her soft words.
Shirou looked directly back into the pale blue orbs of the Lady of the Lake, his tongue staying silent. She had called him here for a reason, a reason he had no doubt she would reveal in time. All he had to do was wait patiently.
Though he was more than a little wary of her. Fae were unpredictable at the best of times. There was no telling if she was a ally or an enemy at the moment, but he wouldn't be the one to throw the first punch if she was hostile.
The two, Elemental and distorted human, studied each other for a long moment.
Shirou had to admit that Lady Vivian was easily one of the most beautiful beings he had ever met, at least in physical looks. Soft but sharp features, a perfect hourglass figure that she seemed unafraid, or uncaring, about showing off, the way she held herself. She was like a flame drawing any human moth in sight, even women would no doubt be captivated and spellbound at her appearance.
However, beneath that fair facade, Shirou could feel the tightly leashed power she possessed. Alien and strange even to his distorted perception, but that was to be expected. For all her looks, Vivian was not human and did not see the world in the same way. What may be important to man as a whole, may be nothing of consequence at all to her.
It was the most frustrating and difficult thing about human-inhuman accords and relations.
His study was halted as the deceptively placid and calm eyes of Vivian finished their own study of him and she began to speak.
"Well met, Shirou Emiya," the Lady of the Lake spoke calmly, her body drifting over the lake until she met the shore, "I have wanted to meet you for some time."
"Well met, Lady Vivian," Shirou responded politely, taking another bow, "had I known that you desired my presence I would have come immediately."
"Perhaps," she said agreeably with a small regal nod, even as her lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile in humour, "but perhaps not," her smile grew into a small smirk, a cold light of mischief burning in her icy blue eyes, "surely you didn't think that finding a place so prevalent, at least by modern standards, with the appearance of the Fae would have as been as easy as it was for you?"
Shirou unconsciously felt his body tense further as the implications of the Lady's words set in. Shirou didn't like being manipulated, at least by someone he didn't know.
"I would have tried," he answered simply, hiding the slow anger burning in his breast behind the stony mask he wore as his visage. Getting angry at her would serve nothing, it was best just to leash his annoyance, for now anyway.
Besides, while he didn't enjoy being manipulated by any stretch of the imagination, it had been done to him, not others, and hadn't yet resulted in any harm.
"Indeed," her smirk became a small smile once more, the blue orbs becoming warm with approval, "and it because of that that you have drawn my eye." She floated forward even more, lowering herself slightly to place herself on the damp and muddy shore, amazingly not sinking at all into the morass, and walked on immaculate feet towards him, water burbling and flowing from the lake to follow her footsteps.
Despite the soft smile that adorned her visage as she approached him, Shirou couldn't help but be wary. The scent of her power was thick and heavy, a cloak of strength and mystical might that warned him that he was completely outmatched in the power stakes. It was like he was facing Berserker again, without the rage, bloodlust and aggression, but the Lady was no less powerful for it's absence.
The way she moved, an inhuman grace and stride, like the leopards he had once seen in a documentary or like the panthers he had seen in a zoo a few years back, also put him on edge. It was the walk of someone who had the higher power, who knew that the one they approached was no threat at all to them.
Shirou might have been more insulted if he had more pride. As it was, he knew that the Lady's beliefs were hardly inaccurate.
He didn't move as the elemental stopped directly in front of him, almost within his personal space, and locked eyes with him once more.
"You bear the Sheath." She stated, making it sound like a fact, an irrevocable truth.
Shirou only nodded in agreement. It was hardly surprising that the very being who had once given the sheath of Excalibur to Saber would be able to sense it's presence, no matter how well it was hidden.
Lady Vivian frowned slightly, her face tilted as if assessing him again. "You are an interesting mortal," she said, her eyes dissecting him, peering into the very depths of his soul, his secrets laid bare before her eyes. Eyes that held wisdom and knowledge beyond almost anything that currently walked the earth.
Eyes that softened slightly as they went distant, obviously no longer seeing him. "Almost as interesting as She."
Shirou couldn't help but inwardly choke in remembrance of the woman that the Lady of the Lake referred to. There was only one person she could refer to in that manner.
"I disagree," he said softly, those blue eyes snapping back into focus on him the weight of eternity in those eyes on his shoulders easily borne. "She was beyond one such as I. An existence seen but once and never again." He smiled at the Lady slightly, the vision of regal Saber replacing the lake spirit, "in my eyes, there was none equal to her."
The Lady observed him slightly before nodding in approval, her smile a little wider.
"I have watched you for a long time, Shirou Emiya," Lady Vivian said, addressing him, her eyes piercing once more, "ever since you became the Sheath's bearer, I have been able watch you, the link between it and I unfading and unending."
Her eyes went distant again even as the swordsman stiffened slightly at her words. He wasn't fond of his life being an open book for anyone, let alone a being of such power as she.
"Every choice you made, every action you took, every thought you had. All of these were revealed to me ever since Kiritsugu," the Elemental's face went slightly dark and the name said with clipped and hard tones, the ice blue eyes she had turning glacially cold and a flux of power wafting off of her almost sending him stumbling back.
It was obvious to him that the Old Man was not a favoured person of the Lady of the Lake.
Once upon a time, Shirou probably would have taken offence and defended his adopted sire. However, it hadn't been until after the Grail War that he had travelled the world and, through various means, found out about the past of the man he had called Father. Illyasveil, his adoptive little sister and biological daughter of Kiritsugu, before she had passed on, had been a font of information as well, albeit biased from a bitter Einzbern perspective.
He had found it had to reconcile the morose and sorrowful Old Man and the cold and calculating Magus Killer were one and the same.
Nevertheless, it had been true and his Father's former lifestyle and past actions had come back to haunt his son, adopted or not. The confrontation with the remaining Archibalds had not been pleasant when they had found out about him.
He had tried to talk his way out, but they had wanted nothing to do with it. Kiritsugu had cost them too much in the Fourth Holy Grail War. The clan's Crest and the death of their chosen heir being prominent among them. They wanted nothing more than his hide on their wall.
The fallout had been put down to a terrorist bombing and no more Archibalds walked the earth anymore.
Yes, his Father not been a nice man in the past, he could admit that much.
"Placed Avalon within you," the Elemental continued, her voice softening from the cold rage that had infused it before at the mere mention of the Old Man. Her blue eyes focused back on him, "Your botched Magecraft training, your school years, your first fight, your heroic desires." Her eyes softened even more, a glimpse of tenderness not directed at him but at a memory she was reliving, "Your summoning of Arturia, your fights at her side, the enemies you fought, the injuries you sustained in an attempt to help and save." The eyes came back to him. "Your love for her, the desire to never let her go and the decision to let her go." Her head tilted to the side, "Few mortals would have had the fortitude to honour that wish, their selfish ways wanting them to keep her at their side, regardless of the cost." Her head bowed in respect, "you have my respect for such a painful choice."
Shirou glanced to the side in discomfort, an old hurt beating in his chest. That decision, even a decade after he had made it, still pained him. He didn't regret it, they both knew it had to be done and had finally accepted that, but he still wistfully wished it hadn't been necessary. The hurt had been softened after he had affirmed to himself that he would see her again, no matter what it took.
"You dedicated your life to reaching her again," Vivian continued her blue eyes piercing him again, "with every battle you fought, every foe you faced, every life you saved, your thoughts were not on your own life, but on Hers," the Elemental smiled slightly, her eyes gleaming with respect, "I have not seen such dedication since she passed on."
Shirou looked at her sharply, discomfort and weakness forgotten. "She was able to truly let go?" He asked, intent on Saber. He remembered the bargain she had struck with the world, had seen her utter the words in the dream cycle. It was because of that wish that she was able to appear in the Grail Wars, despite not being a proper Heroic Spirit.
A wish to not to have been King, to have not drawn the sword from the stone, in return for her services after her death. He grimaced inwardly to himself. Service to the World after death was not a fate he would wish on anyone.
He had come close to doing so a few years back, willing to give his life for a little over hundred people's lives, but had been stopped from doing so by Rin's Master.
He shivered slightly. It had been the first time that he saw even a small fraction of Zelretch's true power, had seen the destruction that a Magician could wreak if they had the desire or the inclination to.
Having seen it, he had no desire whatsoever to have it pointed in his direction. And that was without taking into account the rumours of the Dead Apostle Ancestor's twisted sense of humour. Rumours that Rin had at a later date confirmed.
The wielder of the Kaleidoscope had utterly erased the Ghouls and their progenitor that were after the hundred or so people off of the map, with a surge of magical power so great as to turn the landscape into a glass mound.
And then, with a careless hand wave and a mocking grin and wink, had changed the hundred or so folk's memories of what had happened and simultaneously moved Shirou and himself to another location in a sparkle of rainbow light.
The conversation that had then been had between the two of them had been quite serious, resulting in young Shirou being shown the truths of what it meant to make a contract with the world. Namely by having the memories of his counterpart that had went through with the deal being shoved into his skull sideways.
A counterpart that he now knew had been Archer in the Fifth Grail War, the Servant that had been summoned by Rin.
The nightmares that had followed that particular revelation, as well as the bitter and horrifying memories that refused to be forgotten were barely offset by the vastly increased arsenal of weapons he was able to Trace and a better understanding of what he was capable of.
It honestly scared the living hell out of him to see what he could have become, the things he could have done, had Zelretch not pulled him from that path. And he had done them all because of his dream to save everyone.
The road to hell was truly paved with the best of intentions.
When he had recovered from the blinding migraine induced by the revived memories, he had asked the master of the Kaleidoscope why he had done this. From his reputation and Rin's rants, he knew true altruism was not an attribute that Zelretch had acquired over the years. He was more likely to just sit back and laugh himself sick at the mess he made of his life.
The answer had been strange, even by the old vampire's standards.
"Call it an experiment, my good man," Zelretch said, that wild and mocking smirk that was always on his face turned up to full power, "I want to answer an age old question, one pondered philosophers since Time itself began." The smirk became a full blown leering grin, making the suited vampire look like he should have a curly moustache, a tied up damsel over his shoulder and rubbing his hands together while cackling with glee. "Red vs Blue. Who will win?"
He still wasn't sure what that had been about.
Still, such thoughts were for another time.
There were more important events taking place, urgent questions that needed to be answered.
"She did," Lady Vivian said with a nod, "in the end."
Shirou let out a soft sigh of relief his whole body relaxing, a sudden wave of weakness striking him, sending him to the ground, his face staring up into the blue sky.
It seemed his time was nearing it's end, the warmth in his chest that had kept him alive this long slowly began to dim from the crackling fire it had been, soon to become embers, then a single candle flame, as it worked feverishly to keep it's current bearer alive. An effort Shirou knew to be futile, the poison of a legacy of the Red Moon and the formerly dormant curses from Angra Mainyu being a far too potent combination even for Avalon. The best it could do was slow it down, not stop it, and even then the last vestiges of it's true wielder's power, power that activated it's abilities and let it heal him when in combination with his own power, were almost completely faded.
"Good," he whispered softly as he felt the familiar tang of metallic copper in his mouth, "that is good."
He could feel his life force ebbing. He still had a little time, maybe an hour, but after that his body would give up the ghost completely. He had timed things pretty well if he was honest. The shadows were growing longer and the sun, much to his surprise, was near to setting, casting a blood red light over the expanse of what he could see.
He couldn't but chuckle wetly at the oddly appropriate scene. A warrior meeting his end at dusk, how like a fairy tale.
A darker shadow cast over him as Vivian leaned over him, blocking out the sky and sun, her face now cooly impassive like the surface of her own domain, but her eyes shown with a light he could quite describe.
"You're dying," she said flatly. Her words were a statement.
Shirou only raised an eyebrow where he lay, his limbs too heavy, as if elephants were sitting on them, to move, silently conveying his response of 'no kidding.'
Her gaze grew sharper, "you came here to die, to be by her side, at the end."
Shirou could only wiggle his eyebrow in a form of a nod, a slow heavy numbness taking over his limbs, draining them of strength, making them unresponsive. Cold. Still.
Dead.
It was now a struggle to even breathe.
A sliver of emotion and thought crossed over the Lady of the Lake's face, as if she were contemplating something for a moment.
"You know that if you die here...you may not see her for a long time...if at all."
Shirou felt his eyebrow rise sharply, his golden eyes going hard. What did she mean?
"Something happened on the night she passed on," the Lady of the Lake spoke to a captive audience, "as Visitation. One from a Divine Entity." Shirou felt a slight chill even in his current state. Dealing with Gods in any shape or form rarely turned out well for the mortal party.
"She needed a favour," Vivian continued, "one that could only benefit me, and the Earth itself, in the future," those blue eyes glittered fiercely, an inhuman amount of emotion in those eyes, "it also gave me a chance to see the one who brought such wonder to those around her another chance, a better chance, at a happier life."
Shirou realized almost immediately what the Elemental was saying.
"Elune, the Lunar Goddess of Azeroth, from a realm so very distant from here, had need of a Champion." Vivian looked back down into the golden orbs of the young man, "I gave her mine.
"I gave her Arturia."
Shirou felt something crack within him at those words, like something was being pulled in two different directions.
On one hand, according to the Lady, Saber was now living out her own life, a life without the burdens and horrors that came with taking a crown, a life of freedom and choice, to a point. An average life. One that he knew she desired greatly and yet had forfeited the chance for when she had destroyed the Grail. If anyone deserved that life, that chance, it would be her.
Part of him was honestly happy for her, happy that she had that chance.
On the other hand it also meant that the chance for him to see Saber may very well have vanished. Without her there, in those golden fields beneath a blue sky, awaiting his arrival, his miracle of pursuing endlessly, a miracle Zelretch himself had stated was one of two that was needed for him to see her again, would not be enough.
And to never see her again, to hold her in his arms once more, was a pain that hurt like no other.
To be always parted from the reason for his existence, to always fall short of reaching his goal, no matter what he did...
A wave of determination filled him suddenly, his broken eyes hardening as he fought to make his failing body move.
No. No! He refused to accept that possibility, that dark chance, of never seeing her again. He refused to believe that she had been sent on of her own will, that she had consciously turned her back to him!
Even with his strength failing, he fought to rise to his feet, not stopping even as the numbness weighed heavily on his soul, as the savage pain in his chest, a legacy of the damned priest, began to overwhelm the guttering candle that was Avalon.
Even if she was transported, transmigrated or whatever it was, it meant she was still somewhere, still waiting for him. They may not meet in those golden fields, but as long as he pursued, they would meet, in another, in another place.
His rising to his feet was stopped just as he sat up, a delicate hand that belied the strength within it holding him still. He glared lightly at the form of the Lady of the Lake as she held him there. Even if he couldn't speak, even if his magecraft had waned, even if it was struggle to even draw breath or move, he refused to back down from the one who had taken Saber from him.
However his indignation sputtered slightly as he noticed the small smile on her face as she looked at him. One of happiness, pride and approval, as if she found something that she wanted for a long time and had just obtained it.
"You continue to impress me," the Lady murmured to him, "despite being told what you heard, your faith in her is still unshaken and solid, your goal has not changed despite the difficulties being increased significantly." She smirked at him, a twinkle in her eye, "perhaps Bedivere has a rival in you?" She chuckled slightly, sounding like watery bells.
Shirou could only stare in confusion, his mind befuddled at the mercurial Elemental's actions, even as the slim hand flowed down from his shoulder, dancing over his scarlet coat, to gently rest her palm directly over his heart. The touch was wonderful, much to his embarrassed confusion, and the surging pain in his chest ebbed even as the healing warmth increased, no longer losing ground against the curses of All The World's Evil, just by the woman's simple touch.
"Tell me, Shirou Emiya," began the lady Fae, those warm blue eyes now intent, glowing with her ethereal power as the scent of honeysuckle grew overwhelming, "if I were to be able to send you to your Saber...would you be willing to treat with me?"
Shirou didn't hesitate.
As the sunset below the horizon, the red light of the distant orb giving way to the shroud of darkness that was the night, heralding a night of which the dead and magical walked the earth freely once more, if one could looked down onto the moors of Cornwall from the sky, they would have seen a sight that would have taken their breath away.
A certain lake, a large pool really, one that legends and myths of Knights and Kings, of Swords and Fairies, surrounding it, began to glow a mix of bright shining silver that looked more like steel, sharp and piercing, and an odd shade of colour, like a combination of deep purple and red that verged on black, that gave off a feeling of wrongness and eeriness, a mist of power rising from it's depths to fill the night with light for a brief moment more.
It pulsed like a heartbeat, expanding with every throb until the mist completely covered the watery landmark.
Another heartbeat passed before the mist abruptly gathered into a tight orb, like a miniature sun or moon, in the very middle of the lake before shooting off into the sky, so swift as to only glimpsed by those who watched the night skies, thinking it only a shooting star, a streak of light in the darkness, before it completely vanished.
And Vivian only smiled at the departure of the soul of the one who held her precious King's heart, even as his empty shell of a body crumbled and cracked, reducing itself to the earth from which it came.
"One chapter is done," she mused, floating back towards her abode, a sense of tiredness filling her, having expended a great deal of her formidable power to both send the soul of the Emiya child on to cross paths once more with his beloved Saber and to grant him the appropriate gifts as a reward for his loyalty and great deeds (though she had, much to her annoyance, had to resort to calling in a favour from one she did not like.) that would have made him an equal at the Round had he been born during the time of Camelot. "And another begins."
She slowly began to sink into her lake, ready to sleep and dream. Dream of her beloved King and the Sword that chased her in a land filled with chaos and war.
She giggled slightly at the thought as she sank beneath the surface, slumber only moments away.
Sword and Sheath with King and Knight, heroes of black and white, fighting for what was right.
Her eyes finally closed as she hit the bottom of the lake, her body losing cohesion, changing from flesh to water, and dissipate amongst her domain.
The Legion wouldn't know what hit it.
Outlands, Draenor
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Shirou's eyes snapped open, only to be met with a moist darkness.
Thump-thump.
He tried to turn his head, to see where he was, only to find it difficult to move, a wet, warm and clinging film hugging close his curled up body.
Where was he?
Thump-thump-thump.
He tried to frown, finding it difficult to even move his facial muscles twitch, as if they had never been used before, as he tried to identify the beating sound, deep and powerful enough for him to feel it, like a sonic blast being felt underwater.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
It increased again, sounding faster and harder, even as he felt the cling of, what he now recognised as, wet flesh as his body was pushed forward, towards something.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
Another squeeze and he was pushed forward again, making him panic. What was going on?!
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
Yet another squeeze, this time pushing him face first downwards, towards something. He could hear odd sounds, murmurs really, now even as his mind tried to catch up with what was happening.
The last thing he remembered was the Lady casting her spell, one that would send him Saber, of rather to her current world, and then his...soul...
...
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
Yet another squeeze, pushing toward what his weak eyes could now see as a glimmer of light, something he disregarded as he almost fell limp as he understood what was happening.
The damned spirit had reincarnated him, with his memories, into the body of a child just being born!
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
He was squeezed even further along what he now knew to be the birth canal, his head and skull clenched tightly by soft flesh. He shuddered in realisation.
He was a man who had walked across desolate battlefields filled with nothing but the corpses of the dead and dying, had faced beings who's very presence twisted the minds of others into insanity and had looked The White Beast of Gaia directly in the eyes.
But he had never been so horrified/terrified/disgusted than he was now. No one should have the memories of their birth!
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
Yet another squeeze and his head was through the entrance of his mother's womb, allowing him to take his first breath of fresh air and see his first face.
"Ahhhhhh!" He couldn't help but let out a cry of victory and relief as he emerged.
#Ho ho!# a musical yet sensual voice spoke, sounding amused, even if he couldn't understand the words or see the speaker as his new eyes were blinded by the bright light, delicate hands slowly lifting him, #Quite the pair of lungs on this one, Mistress.#
#Hush, Anat,# another voice spoke, much deeper and darker than the previous voice, clearly male, as it's tones gave the reflection of authority. The tones changed, slight affection entering them, #How do you fair?#
#Tired, my Lord,# a panting voice spoke, an odd hissing undertone to it, but clearly female despite it. Shirou assumed that it was his mother, the other female voice having shown no exhaustion that accompanied mothers in the birthing process. His eyes were adjusting now and could see slightly blurry shapes. #Tired, but happy. Happy to have brought a child into this world.# Shirou could hear strains of exaltation in his presumed mother's words.
#So am I,# the rumbling voice of the male murmured, #So am I.#
Shirou's sight finally returned to relative normal as he felt himself moved through the air, the delicate hands offering him to another.
It was then that he got his first look at his mother in this world, and it was far from what he expected, making him stop wailing in surprise.
The woman he beheld crooned wordlessly at him as two of her six sweaty and shaking powder blue hands gently lifted him from the hands of the woman behind him.
#So beautiful,# she whispered to him, cradling him close to her barely covered breasts in her topmost arms, as she looked down at him with glowing scarlet eyes even as the numerous snake heads that she had for hair looked upon him intently, their forked tongues flickering flickering near her long pointy (almost elven if he was honest) ears. It was like he was looking at a cross between the common depiction of the Gorgons from Greek myth and a Naga from Vedic and Hindu belief.
Yet, despite that scary appearance, he couldn't help but find her beautiful and feel safe in her arms as she held him close, crooning wordlessly, making him feel tired and sleepy.
#So wonderful,# he heard her croon, echoed by the mane of serpents, #So different. So unique.#
Before he drifted off to rest, exhausted by the birth and his mind confused, a rough finger and palm gently patted and stroked his head, making him feebly open his eyes slightly to see who had done it.
#Sleep well, my son,# the owner of the large and rough hand said, his eyes covered by a dark blindfold lashed against extremely dark purple skin, but still burned with emerald flame through the fabric. #Sleep and grow powerful.#
Shirou, even if he didn't understand the words, closed his eyes and rested against his new mother's bosom.
And dreamed of swords and battle. With Saber at his side.
Thus a new being was born on Azeroth, a mere babe in arms, that would soon grow to be something beyond the ken of most.
This, is the beginning...of the Asura.
Well folks, this is my new story, one that was inspired by one of the greatest authors to grace FFNET, Vahn. If you haven't read any of his stories, I recommend that you do so, his works are Fabulous~.
It is highly recommended that you read his Lioness of Stormwind stories in order to familiarise yourself with the universe I am using.
Hopefully you guys will like it.
With best wishes,
Kujikiri21
