Disclaimer: The RWBY and Fate franchises are the products of their respective companies.
Prologue
It was just barely morning, the sky still holding onto its last hints of red. Dawn had gone, and light sparkled warmly through the early autumn air, dappling the ground as it leaked through leaves and branches. Birds chirped their morning songs, filling the air with their quiet joy, crying out their small struggles and triumphs for all the world to hear. But apart from the birds, and the soft cold wind that made leaves dance slowly above her head, the town was completely, utterly still.
Weiss Schnee glanced around as she continued her walk towards the school. She was surprised – the sidewalks should be covered with students making their daily trek to the senior high, the boys in their brown jackets, the girls in their dark skirts. Instead, the road was empty. No cars rolled by, no bikes carrying middle or high-schoolers whipped around the corners. All she heard was the sound of her shoes clicking softy on the pavement.
It was an unsettling quiet, the kind that always came right before some moron popped his head out from behind a wall and shouted 'boo!' Or the type that settled down like a fog, blanketing the world in preparation for the storm about to hit.
Not that there was anything she could do about it.
Sighing, Weiss walked across the courtyard of the school, turning as a scrap of movement caught her eyes. Another student was there, bent before one of the vending machines, canned coffee promoted by an American movie star held in her hand. Her white-and-blue archery uniform shifted as she stood,
Looking up, her eyes met Weiss', and the Australian exchange student grinned. "Hey, Schnee! You're up early today."
"Good morning Velvet. Where is everyone?" Weiss asked, suppressing a yawn before grabbing a coffee for herself. She was still feeling the effects of last night, twilight hours spent pouring over her spellbooks until her eyes ached. Grimacing. Weiss downed half of the brown sludge in a single gulp, swallowing despite the taste. "It can't be that early."
"Are you kidding? It's just before seven."
Looking up from her drink, Weiss scowled up at the clock, several choice words flashing through her head. No wonder she was tired. An hour's less sleep after already being up until two in the morning. Or was it one, if all her clocks were off?
"Looks like I got the time wrong."
Velvet finished her drink and smiled apologetically. An hour's difference wouldn't mean much to the rabbit Faunus, especially since she already woke early for her morning club meeting. "Well, since you're here, wanna come watch practice? We lost one of our best archers before summer. Have to put on a good show to get newbies to come in."
"The work of the team captain is never done, huh?" the heiress drawled, rubbing between her eyes. Just being around the perky girl was starting to wear her out. "Thanks, but I'll pass. I should double-check the lit reading."
Velvet shrugged, the protective plate on her archery uniform bobbing with her shoulders. "Suit yourself. Have a good one."
Waving goodbye, Weiss headed for the shoe racks, her mind already pouring over the sigils and incantations she would need for that night's ritual. She could recite the incantations backwards, but it wasn't just a matter of making sure she got her pronunciation right. The summoning clause was stable, but without reinforcing the containment phrase, the necessary claudication could-
"Hey, Snow Angel! Must be my lucky day running into you first thing."
Weiss jerked to a halt, her teeth already grinding before she turned to look at the boy standing behind her. "Good morning, Arc," she said through her teeth, the veneer of forced politeness already wearing on her nerves. That and the lack of sleep ... and her stress over the upcoming ritual. And her general distaste for the blonde grinning back at her.
Actually, it might be easier to list the things that weren't getting on her nerves. None of which registered with Jaune Arc, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed, even this early in the god-forsaken morning.
"Well, see you," she waved and went inside. She had better things to do than deal with his constant attempts to ask her out.
"Hey, since you're here this early, why not come watch morning practice?
Ignoring the image of her rounding on him like a snarling tiger, Weiss took a breath. Technically, there wasn't anything particularly irritating about the offer. Velvet had said the same thing, and that didn't make her reconsider her ethical stance on homicide. It was possible that he was just trying to be friendly. Unlikely, but possible. Better save any head-biting for when it was truly deserved.
"Thank you, Arc, but frankly I'm not all that interested in archery."
"Oh? I thought that's why you kept showing up to our after-school practices." The blond boy took a step in, trying to get her to meet his eyes and almost blocking her way into the building. "Or were you, uh ... there for something else?"
Weiss heard her teeth grinding and forced her jaw to loosen. Her dentist had a point – much more of this and her teeth would be filed down to nubs. At least Jaune had the grace to look hopeful, rather than simply assuming she'd been there to see him.
"Anyway, I was wondering, if you aren't too busy tomorrow night-"
There it was. For the second time this week, no less. Apparently sidestepping and politely declining his previous advances hadn't managed to sink into that thick skull of his. Well ... maybe 'politely' wasn't the right word. Still, she hadn't just unloaded both barrels on him out of nowhere.
Then again, that might actually be what makes him back off, she thought, trying to keep ahold of her temper. It was far too early for this. Fine. Blunt and harsh it is.
"Arc, do us both a favor and stay away from me, alright?" Moving forward, she neatly sidestepped past him, and slipped out of her shoes. The less attention she paid him, the better.
"To be clear: not only am I uninterested in archery, I am not interested in you. Rather than constantly bothering me, you would be better off spending your time doing literally anything else. In fact, last week was the first time that I even noticed you were in the archery range." It was a bold faced lie, she wasn't that oblivious even in the worst thralls of her tunnel vision, but it wasn't as if she had gone there to see him.
Plus, she thought, a good blow to his ego might be enough to make him leave me alone. Time for the coup de grâce.
She made sure to smile her frostiest as she glanced back at the blond. "Should I decide to visit again, I'm quite sure I can avoid noticing you in the future."
Ignoring the boy's stunned bluster, and taking only the barest pleasure at his utterly dumbfounded expression, Weiss placed her outdoor shoes in the locker, slipped into her indoor ones, and headed up the stairs.
The rest of the day passed without incident, lessons and classes crawling by, tossing off-hand answers to intrusive and increasingly obvious questions on literary allusions and logarithmic expressions, before her mind settled back to the task at hand. New notes and scraps of spell diagrams joined the others in the margins of her notebooks, endless variations on the summoning circle her father had designed. There were a thousand different variables to consider, the simple physics of ripping a hole in local space infinitely more difficult than-
Weiss blinked, and realized she'd forgotten what class she was in. Looking up, she peered owlishly at the board before going back to her figures.
Yup. It was infinitely more difficult than comprehending the gold standard.
It had to be just right, everything had to be just right, or the Servant she summoned wouldn't have the power she needed. She couldn't risk ending up with some third-rate spirit answering her call. Or risk the possibility of turning all matter within a ten-foot radius inside-out. Not that that was a likely result, but if she didn't fix this clause ...
It was well into the evening by the time Weiss finished her preparations, the summoning sigil drawn on the stone floor of her father's workshop. My workshop, she corrected herself, and threw one last look at the temporospatial coordinates for the transport claudication. Her father's structure would work – she had a sneaking suspicion that he might actually rise from the grave if it didn't – but the details of the summoning were hers to deal with. It wouldn't do to miscalculate and accidentally drop her Servant into the middle of the city. Or onto a moving train, or a passing airplane, or ... well, pretty much anywhere other than the safety of her family's manor.
Satisfied that each and every line of runes was correct, she finished the last symbol of her glyph, knotting the entire work together and watching it glint slightly on the stone floor. Carefully, she set the various components in their designated rings, jewels filled with mana and ready to boost the power of the ritual, a few drops of her own blood to bind the magic to her. Her preparations finished, she rose, filled her lungs with air, and Spoke.
It always amazed her, the way magic had a sound. She'd been practicing the Art her entire life, since before she could walk, and yet every time she raised her voice to say the words, it managed to amaze her. That feeling, as if an old friend quieted just to listen to you speak. Hearing as the quiet grew quieter, as noise turned to silence, shadows blurring and leaning in to listen. She was aware of the cool stone floor, of the warm candles in their holder behind her, of the bead of sweat running down her neck, and yet ... There was always the feeling of looking down on it all from above. As she was involved in the act, yet separate, aware in ways she could never be outside the Art. The whole world closed around her, simply to listen, to bend to her will. As if everything was waiting, silently waiting, to see what she could do.
Power surged in her bones and she spoke, long white hair whipping about her as she said the words that would define her pact.
Words flowed from her, sentences archaic and dusty in their construction, passed down through the centuries as a core of the ritual. The components dripped from her hand, dropping onto the sigil once, twice, five times, each drop making the light of her runes brighter and stronger. She was well and truly bound to the magic now; it was less that she said the spell than the magic flowed through her, her body a mere conduit for its creation.
Head my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the grail's call and obey my will and reason, answer me!
Grandiose promises ushered from her lips, oaths made to banish the darkness, to combat evil, to lay aside fear for strength and courage. They were ridiculous, even foolish, and at any other time, she would have found herself laughing at the bald idealism. But they were the core of the spell, and what would magecraft be without idealism and grandeur, anyway?
With each word, power built within her, building into a crescendo as she said the last words of her spell, asking, compelling, demanding her Servant's presence. The magic rushed from her, blasting out across the room, leaving the open pages of her tomes rustling in its wake. Candles died, leaving the room in darkness as the light faded from her glyph. Well-known fatigue washed over her, leaving her drained as the magic took that strength and used it to enact her will. But the energy loss was second nature by now, and all the white-haired girl had eyes for was the three marks now etched on the back of her hand, red spirals marking her as a combatant, a Master, in the Holy Grail War.
And yet, everything was still. Nothing happened. The command seals had materialized – she was a Master – but there was no Servant, no hero to serve as her soldier in the Holy Grail War, no knight in shining armor stepping forth from a shimmering portal to swear allegiance.
A crash echoed through the house, shaking the walls even down in the basement. With a curse, Weiss scampered up the stairs, her skirt swirling about her legs. Grabbing onto the doorknob, she turned, slamming into the wood as it refused to budge. Elbowing it open, she burst out into the lounge ... and her eyes went wide,
The room – her father's sitting room – was completely destroyed. Dust and debris were everywhere, settling on the now-cracked mantle, coating her books. Well, what remained of her books, at least. Louis XIV furniture lay shattered about the room, the dining set her father had so painstakingly arranged now barely suitable for kindling. Wooden splinters and shredded curtains covered the floor, draping across the shattered settee and clumps of padding from the now-torn cushions. Shrapnel lay embedded in the wall,
There, in the eye of the destruction, was a woman, sitting on the remains of Weiss' favorite couch. The one she used to sit on while her mother did her hair. The one she still slept on occasionally, when exhaustion finally claimed her after nights spent in her workshop. Her wrecked, ruined, upturned couch.
Her hair was long, longer even than Weiss', and of a crimson shade darker than the darkest blood. A white mask lay over her tanned face, decorated with sharp lines sweeping down along its jagged sides, shielding her eyes from view. The white metal stopped just above her mouth, the sides shooting down on either side of her lips like two monstrous fangs, but leaving her frown visible for all to see. The masked helm curved back over her head, ragged spires shielding her skull. Muscle rippled in her arms, visible even through the black and scarlet coat she wore, her bared midriff a shredded sculpture of strength. She looked like danger incarnate, a wild predator in the form of a woman, the spirit of a warrior through and through.
A Servant. Her Servant.
In one slow, smooth motion, the head turned towards Weiss, red-black hair streaming behind it. The eye sockets of the mask stared at her, through her, cold and emotionless as the unending void. The Schnee heiress stared back in silence, before her gaze slid to the side, eager to escape that dark, impassive stare, and crept over to the cracked case of the clock on the wall.
It read two in the morning.
Dammit. She'd forgotten the clocks were still running an hour fast.
Weiss sighed. This was her fault. You could name all the names you chose, use every word of power in existence, expend all the components you could muster, and still your summoning would malfunction if you gave the wrong temporal coordinates. Honestly, she was lucky it had worked at all ... or that the Servant's disastrous arrival hadn't outright ripped through her local spacetime and killed her instantly. It was a rookie mistake, something her father would have been only too quick to point out. He'd have been right, too. She was lucky to have survived.
"What exactly are you supposed to be?" she asked, her normally-short temper already ground down to a nub of a fuse.
"Shouldn't that be obvious?" the woman growled, her mask cocking to one side. "You called for a warrior to win you the Grail. I answered."
"... so you're the Servant I summoned?"
"I am no one's servant," the woman spat. "But, I will be your soldier. Your ... Archer."
Swift and sudden, the spirit rose to her feet, towering above the young woman before her. Weiss was used to being shorter than the people around her, but this women was nearing the bases to six feet, and her neck ached as it craned up to look at her. Fluid and relaxed, wasting no movement or energy, the woman inclined her head and bent down just enough to place the two on equal level. Black sockets gazed into Weiss' eyes, the darkness blank and unreadable. Weiss glared right back, her spine ramrod-straight, and refused to look away. She was a mage, and more than that, she was a Schnee. She was the heir, and a Schnee never showed weakness. Not in front of someone like this, a spirt so far beyond the pinnacle of human achievement that their existence had turned to legend. No matter what that legend might be.
She'd be safer exposing her neck to a rabid tiger.
Apparently satisfied with her reaction, the white mask angled down in a short polite bow before the woman relaxed back onto her throne of wreckage, one leg casually crossed over her knee.
"Now then, what is your will, my lady?"
Writer's Note: A brief explanation on how this will work: the main thing being borrowed here is the format of the Grail War, and a few of the general character roles. I know this prologue was fairly close to the series opening, but it will diverge fairly sharply from here. Some characters from Fate will be completely replaced, and a few others will have their roles filled slightly differently by others.
For example, Weiss is mostly taking the role played by Tohsaka, and Raven is stepping in as Archer. Which means the next chapter will have a particularly fun fight scene between herself and Assassin (really looking forward to writing Raven's fighting style). For one of the more obvious ones, Pyrrha is taking the Rider spot, and I'll give you three guesses which heroic spirit she'll be.
Also, I've been asking people for suggestions for any ships and pairings they'd like to see me write in the side stuff I do. If you have any opinions, you can leave them in the comments here, PM me, or send an ask on my tumblr at RedSuitWriter.