"Beautiful," Why was it always, always, always, that word? It had followed her since the day she was born, hounded her, guided her, caged her for as long as she could remember. And while she was beautiful,no one had ever be able to deny that, to her it had always been a comforting lie. Because deep down, past her pretty face, elegant words and cold demeanor, she knew she was one of the ugliest people she could think of. Everything about her that people knew, all of the stories and myths her name and deeds had given life and meaning to, all of it was a facade for her selfish desire to be more than life had designed her to be. It had been planned out from the start: learn how to dance, how to sing, how to write. Learn to cook, to give orders, to hear the whispers of courtly intrigue that seemed to permeate the halls of her of her family's home, though home would be the farthest word from her mind when thought of that place. All of it was meant to bring about the perfect wife for the next heir to the throne, the next quiet figurehead meant to adorn the bedchambers of the most powerful man in the kingdom. Everything had been thought out to the greatest detail to the smallest nuance, from which tutors to hire to how many servants should be in the same wing of the castle as her at any given time. Everything had been planned for and expected in advance by the greatest scholars and wises magus' in the entirety of the kingdom, except for one, seemingly small and insignificant detail. No one had asked the young princess what she thought about any of this, no even a moment of scheming and preparation was given over to how a young child might feel about life as little more than a perfect porcelain doll, whose every thought was at the design of those who believed themselves to be her betters. Never once had they considered any of this in their grand plan to assure the continued success of their country and, in the case of the king and queen, their line. And never once had any of them, in all their wisdom and political genius, anticipated what all of their careful machinations would bring about.
But those are memories long dead now, thought the once-princess.
And now, even centuries later, it haunts me again.
Except now, instead of the legions of suitors and noblemen all trying to gain her affection, it was just one man, gaping at her like a fool. He wore simple attire, a brown jacket over a dark undershirt and jeans, while his bright blond hair and blue eyes contrasted sharply with his decidedly dull outfit. They appeared to be in a dark cellar, with bookshelves lining the walls and tables covered in old parchment and arcane devices dominating the front half of the room. The back half, where Master and Servant stood, was given over entirely to a massive summoning circle. Taking up almost all of the space provided for it, the circle was the color of fresh blood, it's pentagrammic patterns still glowing and writhing with residual magical energy. The air was heavy with smoke from candles that had been lit before the ritual had begun, giving the cellar an old, almost unknowable feeling that seemed to permeate everything with its confines. An illusion immediately shattered by the apparent young magus gaping at his Servant like a fish. Almost instantly losing her small measure of patience with the boy, The Heroic Spirit spoke.
"Are you my Master?" letting more than a little of her irritation at being summoned by an apparent novice slide into her tone.
"U-uh… uh…" said the boy, still gawking at the warrior in front of him like a moron.
The woman strode forward, and with a glare the lowered the temperature of the cellar by no insignificant margin, asked once again, "Are. You. My. Master?"
"Y-yes!" the boy yelled, a mixture of fear and anger in his voice, but mostly fear.
"Very well then, the pact is sealed." said the Servant.
As if desperate to heed her command, the indiscriminate marks on the boy's hand coalesced into what could only be a Master's Command Seals.
"Now that the formalities are out of the way, what will be our first step?" she said.
"I'm sorry?" said the magus, still staring at his Command Seals like they were the most amazing things he had ever seen.
"What is the first part of our strategy to win the Grail?" said the Servant with a sigh of exasperation.
"Uuuh, I didn't really have any particular plan in mind, heh heh." he said, scratching his head.
"WHAT?" she practically screamed.
Flinching at the sudden outburst, the young mage backed away from his raging familiar.
"I just don't have a plan of attack right now, sorry!"
"Sorry? SORRY? Is this just some stupid game to you, or is this how incompetent you are at anything you seek to accomplish?"
"Hey, I'm the Master here, show a little respect!"
"Yes, yes you are. But that doesn't mean I have to respect you. That is something you earn, and trust me, you are a very long way off from that." replied the Servant with an icy glare.
"And what's to stop me from just ordering you to like me?" said the mage, raising his right hand to remind her of the Command Seals symbolising their bond and his right to compel his Servant three times without question, even against that Servants will.
"You would waste something as powerful as a Command Seal by trying to force me to "like you"?"
Seeking to gain the upper hand, the mage capitalized on his apparent advantage.
"Yes, yes I would." he said with a small grin of confidence.
"Alright fine. Just to avoid you doing anything completely and irredeemably foolish, how about we try this again?" said the Servant with a sigh of exasperation.
Smiling at his small triumph, stepped forward and extended his hand.
"That sounds great. I'm Juane Arc, by the way. And you would be?"
"You clearly know who I am, but in the interest of getting this over with… I am Weiss Schnee, queen of Atlas . Or I was…"
"Alright then, Wei-"
"Saber."
"What?"
"You will refer to me as Saber from now until the end of this war. The only reason I gave you my true name was to show you how to most effectively employ my skills in the coming battle."
"Uhh, okay then."
And so, they discussed their strategies on how to best win the Holy Grail War. While Jaune's original plan consisted of "let's find the enemy Servants and kill them", Weiss had a bit more… intelligent response. As it turned out, the Arc family was old blood, and as such had access to exceptionally powerful magic in their field. That field was primarily defensive wards, barriers forged of the very soul to prevent any harm from coming to the magus, and various methods of surveillance and counter-surveillance spells and familiars. All of this led to one obvious conclusion: The Arc family manor was one of the most well defended areas in all of Fuyuki city. Therefore, to Weiss's mind, the only logical step at this early stage in the Grail War would be to bunker down and wait for the other Servants to slaughter each other, while she consolidated power and gained knowledge of how her myriad enemies prefered to fight. The young magus tried valiantly to defend his barely-even-a-plan, but he was soon crushed by Weiss's superior knowledge of tactics and strategic warfare. And so the plan was set: they would release familiers throughout Fuyuki and keep an eye on the situation and any battles that would unfold, but otherwise they would avoid direct combat for the time being.
Just as they had settled out the details though, a resounding crash like shattered glass echoed throughout the manor.
"What was that?" asked Weiss.
"That would be the first layer of ward protecting the house being destroyed." replied Jeaune, the beginnings of panic in his voice.
"Very well, I'll go deal with that then." Weiss said with a huff.
"What happened to hiding out for now?" Jeaune yelled.
"That was before we came under attack you utter fool!"
"Hey, I'm still your-" the magus said before a second crash stole the words from his throat.
"Just go already!"
But she was gone already. Lacking the ability to enter spirit form, the Saber class Servant dashed up through the manor, taking note of its old and decidedly European decor as she searched for the nearest exit. Bursting out into a courtyard dominated by an ornate fountain at its center, Weiss quickly spotted the source of the destroyed wards. A lone figure cloaked in red was firing arrows from an incredibly large bow at the manor, each falling on a different plane of its defences, testing it for weaknesses. The Archer class Servant,Weiss thought to herself. Seeing no other assailants, she charged forward to the figure, summoning her golden longsword Myrtenaster as she did. The Archer in red noticed her quickly enough, and loosed a volley of arrows at her opponent. Deflecting each shot with ease, Weiss quickly closed the distance on her target, unleashing a brutal vertical slice once she was within range. Expecting the bow wielding warrior to dodge away from her attack, she instead grunted in surprise as her blade made contact with the haft of polearm instead of the arm of a bow. Both opponents remained locked in place, but the force of the impact was enough to blow back Archer's hood. For a moment Weiss was speechless. Before her was a girl no older than herself, her short, midnight black hair tinged crimson at the tips, with eyes of shining silver staring wide into her own. And in those silver eyes Weiss found only one word, one simple, perfect word to describe all than she had seen in that short moment.
"Beautiful"