Fate: Tales from the Kaleidoscope
As the title might suggest this is not a real story but a collection of plot bunnies I'm probably going to expand when I finished with my current works.
Here comes the first installment: Meeting in Reverse. Basically the story of a borderline Archer Shirou being summoned in King Arthur's era as he's about to die. Inspired in no small amounts by several stories of the same kind among which "Timeline of Fate" and others.
Enjoy!
Meeting in Reverse (working title)
Pairing: Shirou/Saber
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Transcending History and the World
A tale of Soul and Swords
Eternally retold
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He stood on an Hill of Swords, his bleeding body supported by the very weapons he once held in his hands and that now pierced him.
He was dying. There was no denying that truth. Every breath came harder than the previous and the taste of copper filled his mouth.
How long had he kept going? How many battlefields had he withstood undefeated? How many swords had he created? How many lives had he saved?
Too many to count. His sacrifice was immeasurable. He gave everything and asked for nothing in return.
And nothing was exactly what he found at the end of his path.
To any onlooker it would have been an admirable yet cursed existence, something that couldn't be understood but the Knight in Red had no regrets. He had no reason to curse the heavens, nor to detest his fellow humans for turning on him when he was fighting for their sake.
He knew that it was coming. As he grew older and his hair turned white under the strain of his own Magecraft, he came to realize that he and the other red clad warrior were one and the same, even if the differences in character were uncanny.
He was at peace with himself. He had done his best and saved as many lives as he could. Even if his ideals betrayed him at the end, not once he had betrayed them in return.
Even if he never managed to become the Hero he strived to be, even if reality tramped over his ideals in the end he had no regret. In the course of his life he had fought and loved plenty. There was nothing left in the world for him to cling to life against all hopes.
He had but a single wish left. To meet her once more.
He didn't know if his deeds had actually gained him the right to access that place but as his blood abandoned him all he could do was pray.
And pray he did. Even if he knew it would fall on deaf ears, he prayed with all of his heart.
"I want to see her again."
Those were the last word he uttered before his muscles finally fell limp.
As predicted, Emiya Shirou's life ended that day. What no one knew was that his prayer had been answered, even if not in the way he had dreamed of.
Yes, he would see her again, for even if his life had ended his battles hadn't. Because somewhere across the tides of time another wish, different in nature but similar in deeds, reached for him and pulled his soul away from its intended destination.
XXX
She stood on a Hill covered by swords.
Her body was failing, the grip on her sword was slipping and her enemy was attacking relentlessly. She had long since learned not to give up, to fight to her dying breath but her own impending defeat was clear in her eyes. Days of fighting had taken their toll, while her foe was well rested.
Four, no three more exchange of blows and her hands would give in. Years of fighting had taught them well about her own capabilities.
She was at her limit.
She would be killed.
Her kingdom would fall.
Her dreams would turn to ashes.
The sacrifice of countless brave men would be for naught.
'No. No. No. No.'
She couldn't just let it go. Not after all the blood that had been spilled. Not after her trusted companions had laid down their lives so that she could keep on walking. But stubbornness could only push her so far and, as predicted, the third blow from her opponent knocked out her sword for her grip.
She took a step backward, trying to delay the inevitable but she only managed to stumbled and fall on her back.
She couldn't afford to die. She had to keep fighting but she had nothing except her own life and her ideals but neither of them would serve her cause in her final moments. It was pointless and she knew it. She had lost it so long ago. Her shield, her scabbard, the embodiment of her dreams. Why would it come now? Just because she called for it?
But she had nothing else left.
She pulled herself on her elbows and stretched her arm forward, as to intercept the killing blow.
"AVALON!"
She didn't know if it was a wish, a prayer or simply her last word. There was no light of gold and blue in response to her summon, and the killing blade only drew closer.
Her last thoughts, as she resigned herself to die, were for the comrades she had failed so badly.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The enemy's sword was pushed backward. Again and again the offending knight was forced to take a step back.
She couldn't believe her eyes.
Out of nowhere, a swordsman dressed in the finest red clothes she had ever seen stood between her and her would be killer. He wielded a pair of falchion swords identical in shape yet opposite in colors. A white and a black sword.
His entire existence was an absurdity in her eyes. He didn't wear an armor on the blooded battlefield were stray arrows could kill the strongest of knights.
He was pushing back Mordred, whose body was empowered by Morgana's accursed magic and whose skills with a sword were a match for her own.
Who? How? Why?
Who was this godsend warrior? Where had he come from?
He couldn't be from her army. Such an odd-looking and skilled swordsman would not have gone unnoticed to her eyes for long.
With a last, barely parried blow, Mordred was sent flying backward, like he was nothing more than a useless twig. It was out of pure luck that he managed to land on his feet on such an uneven ground.
She could swear she heard Mordred grit his teeth in frustration under his helmet for having being denied to land the killing blow on her.
The victory that had been in his grasp just moments prior had been taken away and the odds had been turned against him. Mordred was perhaps misguided but certainly not a fool. Without turning his back to the newcomer he carefully stepped back until he rejoined the ranks of his soldiers, who didn't dare to interfere in their leader's personal battle.
"RETREAT!" He shouted to his army. The scattered soldiers disengaged and quickly left the battlefield.
In that moment the man in red turned to her for the very first time. The world around her seemed to freeze, as she took in the appearance of her savior.
The sun was setting behind him, casting a red halo around him, further enacted by the clothes he was wearing. He had red hair and eyes of a shade of gold she had never seen before and he stood confidently upright, his muscled body outlined by his tight fitting clothes.
He didn't look like a knight, more like the scion of a noble family from a foreign country. His appearance didn't belong on the battlefield but his skills were undeniable refined through years of combat. What caught her attention however, was the look in his eyes.
He was undoubtedly confused. His golden eyes scanned her figure, searching for evident wounds and for something else she couldn't quite pinpoint.
"Your Highness," the familiar voice of Bedivere called from behind her. Her loyal knight soon reached her and placed himself between her and the Red Knight, sword at the ready. The fury she read in his eyes directed to the man in front of them told her he had misunderstood the situation and that he was just about to assail the red clad warrior.
"Bedivere," she said in a weak voice that didn't belong to her. "This man just saved my life."
Bedivere, whose eyes never left the nameless man, relaxed slightly at his king declaration.
"My apologies then, good sir, and my gratitude" the knight said sheathing his sword and turning to help his king back on his feet.
"Indeed," the king agreed. "You have done us a great service this day. Would you please tell me the name of the man I owe my life to?"
The man in red inclined his head curiously, still clearly confused. He barely opened his mouth to answer when her eyes caught a movement at her side.
An enemy soldier, clearly late on his retreat had just picked up her sword, Excalibur, from where it had fallen and was making a run for it.
"My sword!" she said short on breath.
"You scum," Bedivere snarled. He intended to chase after the thief but his king's arm draped around his shoulder prevented him from doing so.
Once again it was the Knight in Red to solve the situation. Neither her or Bedivere saw him move, but in a moment he was in front of the scoundrel who dared to touch a King's sword. A single punch to the chin and the man literally flew backward, dead or unconscious they couldn't tell.
The man in red picked and held her sword with a reverie not even her knights showed. Slowly he walked back to her, holding Excalibur with both hands, parallel to the ground in an offering gesture.
Now standing on her own feet she accepted her sword back and put it back in its scabbard.
"Thank you for returning my sword. I am your debt twice now, and I still don't know your name," she said with a voice stronger than before. Apparently her wounds weren't as bad as she had initially thought, because she was feeling better by the minute.
"Emiya Shirou," he introduced himself. An odd name for an odd existence. "And you are welcome. Now, if you don't mind me asking, were exactly are we?"
XXX
'What the hell?' Shirou asked himself. It didn't take long for him to figure it out what had happened. He was clearly in the past, but the subject of the question was much broader than that. The last thing he remembered clearly was dying, then after a blink he was standing a few scant meters behind Saber on the hill of Camlann.
How the hell had he travelled through time and why the heck did he look like he was seventeen again? His skills looked unaffected but his body was shorter than he was used to and his magic circuits were as stiff as they were when he was of that age.
Now, had wished to see Saber, Arturia Pendragon again but he didn't envisioned it happening like that. To make things worse he had just saved her life. Not that he regretted the act in itself, but he had just majorly screw up the timeline.
By the 'Butterfly Effect' even a minor change in the past would affect the future a great deal. Saving the King of Knights from his fated death had probably thrown an major wrench in the normal course of history.
Time never liked paradoxes and the Counter Force of the world would mercilessly crush any interference. He didn't know if his intervention had already started that kind of reaction or if, according to the principles of the Second Sorcery, he had just started an entirely different timeline.
The situation was mind boggling. He wasn't even sure of what he was. He felt normal enough despite the oddity of his existence in that time and place. He wasn't a phenomenon like a Servant as there was no formal contract in place, but he could feel a small trickle of Prana that went from Saber to him and back.
Furthermore….
Why the hell was Avalon doing back inside him again?
He had parted with Excalibur's scabbard at the end of the Fifth Grail War. He had personally returned it to its rightful owner and never once looked back at that choice. Yet he could feel it again, safely embedded inside him, humming quietly as if it rejoiced being back with him.
He didn't know how, but he was fairly certain that its existence in that point in time and his appearance had something to do with the Scabbard. It was after all an artifact made by the Fae that transcended time and space.
He racked his brain for anything that could further explain the situation but with him being crap as a Magus there wasn't much knowledge to help him in that endeavor. Sure, he wasn't as bad as he was back in those days, but due to his lack of talent he never explored the braches of Magic that didn't have a direct impact with his talents and his personal mission.
And then there was her.
So similar and yet so different, just like him. He sighed and shook his head. It wasn't the time to lose himself in reminiscences.
"Is there something on your mind, Emiya Shirou?" Bedivere asked from beside him as they followed the king back to Camelot with what was left of the army.
"No, nothing at all. I just never expected to run in such a situation during my travels."
He had pulled the card of being a wandering swordsman from a far away country, travelling the world to help the people he met on his path. It was close enough to the truth and it immediately gained the favor of Saber, no, King Arthur and his knights. As if saving the King's life wasn't enough for that.
He preferred to refer to the King as Arthur instead of Saber or Arturia, even in his mind, least he slipped badly if he wasn't paying attention. Better be safe than sorry after all.
Few people knew the real gender of the King of Britain and there was no reason for a completely unrelated passerby to know such a well protected secret.
"I suppose that anybody would be taken aback by such turn of events," Bedivere said. "The worse a traveler can usually stumble upon is the occasional group of bandits, not a full blown war. Still, I am grateful that you came when you did. "
"I must agree," Arthur said from right in front of them. "Your timely intervention has saved not only my life, but in all likelihood the entire kingdom as well. Had the army of Modred managed to win this battle they would have marched to Camelot undisturbed. We are in your debt more than words could possibly express."
"Not at all," Shirou replied humbly, "if anything it was my honor to come to your aid. To be able of assisting the rightful King of Britain is not something that happens every day."
"You knew who I was before coming to my aid? I don't believe we ever met before," Arthur said eyeing him even more carefully.
"I never saw you prior of this day, Your Majesty," he admitted. It just happened that the first he met was a couple of millennia after that specific day. Too bad for her that his personal timeline was a tad screwed up compared to hers. "But tales of your deeds have reached far beyond the border of your kingdom, along with the description of the sacred sword you wield. I don't believe anyone could mistake that blade and the person who wields it."
It was a bit of a stretch, but not even that much. In another time a certain category of people would automatically recognize the wielder of a weapon once its name or appearance was revealed. For that purpose Saber kept Excalibur hidden by Invisible Air until she had to unleash its true power.
"I understand," the King finally acquiesced. She didn't look all that convicted of his explanation but it looked like she was about to question her savior, something for which Shirou was extremely grateful. He had hastily put up a cover up story and didn't want to dwell on details he had yet to think about. Dodging uncomfortable questions and finding answers top his own was his top priority at the moment.
"Where is that you said you came from?" Bedivere asked.
"I'm afraid that you might never have heard of the country where I was born. It's so distant from here that I think no map in your country even mentions it."
"Certainly you jest," Bedivere answered. "It would have taken you years to come from such a place."
"You are absolutely right, Sir Bedivere. In fact, despite my young appearance I'm over forty years old."
"How is that even possible?" The knight asked bewildered. "You don't look a day older than twenty."
"I believe it must have been some sort of Magecraft," Shirou replied, "although I don't even know when or how it happened. One day I woke up and I looked like my seventeen years old self."
Feeling rather smug with himself, Shirou idly wondered if that was how Kotomine felt when he said the complete truth and yet managed to deceive his listeners.
"Forgive me if say this Sir Emiya, but your tale seems unbelievable. I think that if you hadn't already shown us your noble character I would not believe a word you said. You seem like a character from a fairy tale."
"No offense taken, Sir Bedivere," Shirou chuckled. How ironic it was the people that he first knew about through legends considered him like a fictional character.
They continued their march and finally reached Camelot at dusk. Shirou at to admit that the legend far surpassed reality. The castle was a typical construction for that era as was the town that grew around it.
-oOo-
The populace welcomed the victorious king with shuts of joy but the sovereign wasn't in the mood for celebrations. She had lost too many men and friends in this campaign and she had survived only thanks to a well timed miracle. It was a victory in name only but she couldn't afford to sulk. She had a duty to uphold. Her kingdom needed her and she would stand upright and face her responsibilities.
"Sir Emiya, you are welcome to stay in the castle. Allow me to partially repay my debts through hospitality."
"You have my gratitude, your Highness. I never had the honor of stepping inside the walls of a castle before."
It was Bedivere the one to express the mutual surprise to his statement.
"Is that so? By the way you hold yourself and the clothes you wear I had thought you were of noble stock."
"Not at all but my first sword teacher was actually a king from a fallen country. I suppose that I have learned not only how to wield a sword from him. As for the clothing it was gifted to me by a priestess as token of gratitude."
"Such an expensive looking clothes were gifted to you? What sort of task have you performed to gain such favor?"
"I… I killed her father," he answered sourly. Yeah, no matter how he put it that sounded bad.
"That is…. Uhm," Bedivere said at loss for words.
"Perhaps we should postpone this tale to another time," the king interjected. "Bedivere please escort sir Emiya to a room and ask the maids to take care of his every need."
"It shall be done, your highness," the knight answered immediately, with no trace of his previous befuddlement. "Follow me this way, sir Emiya."
With a nod Shirou walked behind Bedivere, considering his next course of actions. The situation at hand was too mysterious to contemplate what to do. He needed to understand the mechanisms behind his summoning, reincarnation or whatever it was that had brought him there.
It certainly was the greatest mystery he had ever come across in his life and his mind was in a storm. Could he go back to his original time? Should he? Last thing he remembered he died, painfully so.
True, he had no regrets back in his old life but that didn't mean that there weren't still things he could and should do if he had the change. There was also Rin…
No. That line of thought wouldn't lead him anywhere. They had reached an understanding years ago. That he would meet his end on the battlefield was something they had accepted years before. They both knew it but…
… she would cry for him. He knew she would even if she would never admit it.
Sentimentalism aside he had no particular hurry. He was a good thousand years in the past. Time wasn't something he lacked at the moment. He would have to figure out the situation before planning anything.
"Is there something wrong, sir Emiya?" Bedivere asked noticing his pensive mood.
"I was just thinking of my home country."
"Have you been gone for long?"
"Yes… I haven't been there in a long time. Sometime it feels like it's been… a thousand years."
Understanding the mood of their guest Bedivere asked no more. Shirou followed in silence already exploring in his mind the causes and the implications of this new adventure.
Meeting in Reverse- Chapter 1 (END)
Coming next: Fate/Dark Side of Heaven