I don't own Fate/Stay Zero or the characters.
My name is Arturia Uther Pendragon. I used to be a king. Long ago when Britain was still young, before its rise to prominence, I ruled a fickle people with the assistance of a peculiar wizard and a group of valiant, yet very human knights. They had sworn oaths to serve their ascetic liege whose severity could not be overestimated. That same quality—of denying oneself the luxury of emotion—which allowed me to rule effectively, ironically led to my downfall. How could I describe the intensity of the feelings washing over me that day under the oak, having barred them for so long; since with the loss of my kingship came the loss of that cherished mental barrier.
The path of a warrior is a lonely one. The tales are not exaggerated. For every enemy my knights dispatched, I savagely laid ten to rest. While my generals expressed reluctance every time we burned down a village, I didn't flinch. And with Excalibur at my side and Avalon on my back I must've seemed superhuman, otherworldly, to those passing by, like I had been forged from a thicker stock, a child of the deceased gods, Zeus or Poseidon. Little did they know that under the armor, under the steely exterior, a young woman clung to the standard of her country with all her (in reality) feeble strength.
Perhaps if people had glimpsed a part of who she really was, they could have understood her position and why she did the things that she did. Maybe the revolt could have been diverted…
Anyways, only Bedivere, my last loyal knight, witnessed the extent of my sentiments and she's the last I would permit. Not even Irisviel von Einzbern will know how deeply affected I was by the betrayals and the shame which arose from the fact I was solely responsible for the civil unrest. You might argue that it wasn't my intent to separate Guinevere and Lancelot or alienate Mordred, but it doesn't excuse my selfishness. Obsessed with the duties of the king, I neglected to pay attention to the wants and needs of my subjects. Just because I did not experience such (what I thought at the time) trifle desires/emotions didn't mean others were not subjected to them. And so my mortal condition at the hands of my sort-of daughter can only be contributed to me.
Fast forward to the twentieth century in the islands called Japan off the coast of Asia when I am subservient to the whims of a single man, who prefers to operate in the background and whose philosophy grates with mine. Yet I cannot claim to not deserve this treatment. This is my punishment and I will bear it for the sake of my kingdom.
Others contend with me for the prize, remarkable men and women too, some heroic and others like me not interested in the cause of justice who nevertheless shook the foundations of the world.
Some warriors have fared well against me, even overpowered me, as Gilgamesh has done, but I was never especially hailed for my physical prowess. Still it's comforting to know that if I was once again joined with the magical sheath Avalon and if the Excalibur I held in my hands was the Excalibur returned to the lake, no one could stand in my way. (My ego needs to be satiated much like that of a man's.)
Blasted command seals. I can not resist his orders much longer. Emiya Kiritsugu was dead set on taking away my only chance to save Britain from the Saxons and on the measly suspicion that the Holy Grail was corrupted! Nonetheless with the activation of the final seal I swung Excalibur down with tears in my eyes, knowing what waits on the other side: the rest of eternity as a Counter Guardian or my imminent death on that battlefield back in 537 A.D. As I faded away I desperately hoped for the former. I imagined Providence would not approve of my life thus far.
An experiment fic/drabble. Saber in my opinion is a really complicated character. This is my tribute to her.
Authority forgets a dying king,
Laid widow'd of the power in his eye
That bow'd the will. -Alfred Lord Tennyson, "The Passing of Arthur"