Disclaimer: I do not own the Fate/Stay Night Franchise.
The Song of Fate
Prologue:
Tohsaka Manor; Fuyuki, Japan: December 19, 2124 A.D.
Three days before the start of the war.
Taiki Tohsaka's hazel eyes stared glumly at his left hand as he sat in a comfortable chair. The tattoos had appeared the previous night, marking him as a Master in the Holy Grail War.
Only there wasn't supposed to be one. His great-grandmother had made sure of it nearly one hundred and twenty years ago. Rin Tohsaka and Waver Velvet, a Master of the Fourth War, had dismantled the Grail system. The Einzberns hadn't been happy with that decision.
But then, they never were happy about anything.
However, it seems that something as powerful as the Third Magic could not be stopped simply by dismantling it. After all, the Grail was immaterial until claimed by the winning Servant. Briefly, he wondered who his opponents would be. The Einzberns were all but assured. Taiki represented the Tohsaka family. The Makiri were wiped out by events during the Fifth Grail War. The triad of families was broken. The other participants could come from as far as Europe and the Clocktower. Or the Grail would randomly choose Masters like it did with Ryuunosuke Uryuu and Shirou Emiya.
He ran a hand through his untrimmed brown hair as he stood up, picking up a cloth covered bundle and slinging it across his shoulder. He was tall for a Japanese man, standing at slightly above six feet. However, he was of mixed blood, Japanese and German, resulting in his odd appearance. His hazel eyes and light brown hair just did not seem to match up with his Asian features, and apparently gave him an intimidating, yet alluring face. He found out about the latter during high school when he started finding his locker jam-packed with love letters. Even in college, he found no peace.
He shuddered when he remembered a particularly embarrassing incident where a professor tried to seduce him during his first year. After that he began to wonder if he had a Mystic Face, like a certain Irish hero. His father had laughed and said that he had the Emiya gene.
He looked up at the clock. It was nearly time. If he was going to summon a Servant, he would do it right. The twenty-two year old remembered the story of Rin's summoning, and how all of the clocks in the house were an hour fast. Apparently, it had been a test from Taiki's great-great-grandfather for his daughter, but it ended up screwing her over in the Fifth War. Not to mention nearly causing a time paradox and possibly blowing up the planet.
No, he would not make the same mistake. The circle was prepared, though to be honest, not much work was needed. The original circle that Rin had used to summon her Archer was still in place, undisturbed in the century and a half after it was last used. All it needed had been some touch ups and some gems to provide power for the ritual.
At once, all of the clocks in the house chimed. He checked his own watch. Midnight. His hour of power. It was time.
His younger sister Saya entered the room and looked at him expectantly, tapping her foot impatiently. From the pictures, she looked remarkably similar to Tohsaka Rin, down to her preferred hairstyle. However, her hair was a light brown, and her eyes were green, showing the foreign heritage of their mother.
"Are you ready?" She asked.
"As ready as I can be for participating in a deathmatch that was supposed to have been stopped over a century ago," Taiki replied wearily.
"Suck it up," Saya gave her brother her "drill sergeant" look, "You're a magus. We walk with death."
Where Rin Tohsaka had at least pretended to act like a lady, Saya was completely different. She was blunt all of the time, apparently clueless as to the definition of subtlety. She was stubborn to the point of being obnoxious. She was also a bit of a tomboy. Taiki thought about it for a moment.
On second thought, his sister acted exactly like Rin Tohsaka.
Thinking that he was taking too long, Saya grabbed Taiki's sleeve and dragged him to the basement door, almost kicking him down the stairs, "Go on, Dad's waiting."
Taiki and Saya's father, Kariya Tohsaka, had agreed to help out with the summoning ritual. Named after Rin's surrogate uncle Kariya Matou, their father was the current head of the family. He was only a few years away from passing on the title to Taiki, who already possessed the entirety of the Tohsaka crest. Though only forty-eight, Kariya was affected by a curse that made his body age at a faster rate, making him look nearly ten years older. Inflicted by a magus-turned-Dead Apostle during his last hunt, the resulting depression had nearly killed him. It took nearly two years of therapy and support from his family to recover from that and lift the curse, though by that time the damage had been done. He required a cane to walk, as the rapid aging had weakened his muscles, especially in his legs. His left leg was partially paralyzed, and bending that knee was difficult, and his right leg alone couldn't hold up his entire body without support.
The pair walked down the stairs, to find their father waiting for them, sitting in a chair and looking directly at them.
"Are you ready, Taiki?" Kariya inquired.
Taiki rolled his eyes, "Saya already asked me, Dad."
"This is a serious matter. Once you summon your Servant, there is no going back," his father stated, with a stern look on his slightly wrinkled face, "Do you have the catalyst?"
"As best as we could find on short notice," Taiki shifted the object on his back, "Good thing your grandfather liked to collect swords, Dad. We must have had the luck of the devil that your parents didn't get rid of them."
The older man's serious face broke into a smirk before quoting, "'No member of the Emiya clan can get away from swords.' Seems like it's still true. It's hard to believe that he got a hold of the actual Durendal, though."
Taiki squirmed slightly at the sentence. How Shirou Emiya had gotten a hold of it was a mystery lost to time, but he suspected that Zelretch had something to do with it. As usual. Right now, strapped to his back like a book bag was one of the most famous blades in European history. The sword of Roland the Paladin, the greatest of the Peers of Charlemagne. Known as the Peerless Blade, it's eternally sharp and indestructible blade made it one of the few Noble Phantasms to survive into the modern age.
That was who he was hoping to summon. Roland was not the strongest of heroes, like Gilgamesh and King Arthur, but he was by no means an average Servant. Single handedly holding off an entire army had to count for something. Using this particular blade as the catalyst, he was sure to summon the hero.
Unwrapping the cloth from around the legendary sword, Taiki placed it in the center of the circle, careful not to smudge the re-done lines. Saya offered him the book, which had been used by Rin nearly a century before. Turning to the correct page, he began to read the lines of the ritual.
"Ye first, O silver, O iron. O stone of the foundation, O Archduke of the contract, hear me in the name of our great teacher, the Archmagus Schweinorg."
With the first words spoken, the circle began to glow red as the rubies channeled their stored power.
"Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Five perfections for each repetition."
Taiki felt all thirty-seven of his circuits activate, plus the several dozen in his crest. He almost gasped at the sensation. It was as though someone had set fire to all of his nerves simultaneously.
"And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in mine stead."
The glow of the circle turned to an almost blinding light.
"Heed my words. My will creates thy body, and thy sword creates mine destiny."
Prana surged through his forced open circuits. The pain from earlier was nothing compared to this. A wind appeared from nowhere, seemingly originating from the circle, blowing around dust from the rarely cleaned room.
"If thou hear the Grail's call and obey mine will and reason, then answer me."
Cold mist began to pour forth from the circle, signaling that his summons was being answered. The fog moved in a circular motion around the summoner and altar.
"I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world. That I shall defeat all evil in the world."
The circle responded to his words by forcing the light to go to even greater levels of brightness.
"Thou, Seven Heavens, who art shrouded by the three great words of power, come forth from the circle of inhibition, O guardian of the scales!"
The wind sped up, howling as it caused the mist to swirl and churn into a miniature tornado, filling the confined space of the basement. Pure power burst out from the circle as all of the gems in it shattered, knocking Saya from her feet and almost tipping over their father. All of the lights in the room instantly went dark. As the mist cleared, a thought appeared in Taiki's mind.
There were two heroes associated with Durendal. Roland, its famous wielder, and Wayland the Smith, its crafter. With horror, he realized that he had no control over which one was summoned. Both were eligible for the Saber class.
Yes, there was a better chance that he would summon the knight, but there still existed the possibility that he would summon the crippled smith. While he would have been tough and strong, Wayland had been hamstrung in his legend, making him near useless as a frontline fighter like the Saber class!
A feeling of dread and anxiety overcame him as he watched the fog part to reveal his Servant.
A voice echoed out from the obscuring mist, "I am Saber, and I have answered thy summons, magus."
The clank of metal on concrete rang out as something moved forward. First came a silver plated boot, then another. Bit by bit, the rest of the figure was revealed. Its armor was gleaming, illuminated by the remains of the circle. The plates were protective, covering the major blood vessels and organs, but not too bulky as to restrain movement. Numerous designs were carved into the armor, but Taiki could identify none of them. A red battle kilt covered its legs down to their knees, cut in the front to allow full movement, and the clothing underneath matched the blood-colored hue. A cloak, also red and trimmed with silver, flowed down from its shoulders to half way down the shins. Heavy gauntlets, bulkier than the rest of the armor, covered its hands. A horn made from ivory hung on a strap from its belt.
A young-looking male face, only a few years older than Taiki himself, looked back at him with green eyes. His features were distinctly European, there was no hiding that. Dark brown hair fell to his shoulders. The two men were approximately the same height and could look each other in the eye.
On his left hip was Durendal, in its sheath once more.
The knight spoke again, "I ask of thee, art thou my Master?"
Taiki could only nod, so stunned was he at being in the presence of a legendary hero. The Servant knelt, "Then the contract is complete, milord. I am at your service."
The magus managed to shake himself out of his stupor, "Arise, Sir Roland. We have work to do."
Kariya, from his chair on the other side of the room, muttered, "And so it has begun again…"
Stamford, England: December 17, 2124
"But let thine eyes be clouded with chaos. Thou, who art caged in madness, and I who doth hold thy chains. I swear that I shall be all of the good of the world, that I shall defeat all who stand in mine path. Thou, Seven Heavens, shrouded in the three great words of power, come forth from the circle of inhibition, O guardian of the scales!"
The summoning circle, drawn under the full moon, glowed an ominous violet as it conjured the one the summoner sought. Slowly, it rose from the ground, like a creature emerging from Hell. It let out a bestial howl, breathing in the air for the first time in nearly a thousand years. The cold air had no effect on the beast, even though it was only dressed in a pair of trousers and boots.
He was free!
His limbs felt heavy again, and the axe in his hand felt right. His eyes glowed red with madness from behind his mask, yet he spoke, "So, I have been summoned by a Saxon? A strange turn of events."
"Watch your tongue, mad one," the summoner barked, though they were perplexed at the Berserker's ability to speak, "Normally I would not deign to have dogs serve me, but I have need of your strength."
"Oh? And who is it that orders me?"
"I am Elizabeth Archibald, though you will address me as Master," the newly named Master snapped. She was young, no more than sixteen years old. The young woman had yet to finish growing, barely standing at the level of the hulking warrior's bicep.
"And what makes your think that I will obey the orders of a litt-" Berserker halted his question when Elizabeth raised her left hand, showing the command seals shining threateningly. The mad warrior chuckled, "Very well, I will follow your command." He paused and grinned maliciously, "For now."
Einzbern Castle, Germany: December 12, 2124
"Old Man Acht" as he was occasionally called, cited the words of the ritual. The ritual had been prepared long ago in preparation for the war that never came. At least until now. The Fourth and Fifth Wars had been failures. Neither hiring a magus to be a contender nor using a homunculus as a Master had worked. As the old phrase said "When you want something done right, do it yourself."
And so Jubstacheit von Einzbern, veteran of the Second Grail War, was going to enter the war himself once again.
Now standing in the middle of the circle was a man, mid-thirties, garbed in white and grey robes. His beard was one that Acht had to admit rivaled his own, and still retained its youthful brown. He looked appraisingly at his Master with dark eyes. Apparently, he did not like what he saw.
"So, I have been summoned by an old man," He rolled his eyes, "Meraviglioso." The Servant gave a bow, "I am Caster, at your service, Maestro."
Inwardly, the head of the Einzbern family groaned. This was already heading towards becoming a train wreck, and the war had not even begun yet.
Fuyuki, Japan: December 21, 2124
She was a wreck. First, she had been fired from her job. Then her boyfriend broke up with her. And now, she was being mugged.
"Come here cutie, we won't bite. Much."
And possibly raped if this went on for much longer. The woman did the only thing she could, unarmed and outnumbered as she was.
She let loose a bloodcurdling scream and grabbed a nearby trashcan, chucking it at the nearest mugger. As surprised as he was at the woman picking up a garbage container filled with nearly fifty pounds of trash and throwing it, the thug managed to scramble out of the way. His buddy, however, got clipped by it and was knocked to the ground, wondering what the hell just hit him.
As her veins were filled with adrenaline, she didn't take notice of a burning sensation traveling up her nervous system, along her untrained magic circuits. Or if she did notice it, she ignored it in favor of the situation in front of her.
Mugger number one whipped out a knife and cautiously approached the panicking woman. Her response was to pick up another trashcan, which were quite plentiful in the alley they were standing in. Before she could weaponize it, the man made his move. He charged forward and stabbed with the blade.
The woman was forced to drop the garbage can to instinctively defend herself using her arms. She moved just enough that she didn't take a body wound, but her left bicep received a nasty cut. Rivers of crimson started flowing down the limb.
In a moment of clarity, the woman chanted in her head, Oh God, oh God help me!
As the mugger began to go for another strike, a blinding light appeared from behind the victim. She immediately whipped around to see what it was, and was also stunned. In the light's place was a man standing inside of what appeared to be a magic circle. Or at least she thought it was a man, as the figure wore a white robe and cloak that covered any features.
Strapped to his back were two weapons. One was, what she assumed to be, a spear, wrapped in the same material as he was dressed in. The other was a staff, approximately five feet tall with a bronze snake wrapped around the top portion of it. Three identical words were burned into the wood, though not in any language that the woman understood. In his right hand was a short, broad-bladed sword.
She thought the sword looked familiar, but couldn't place where it was from.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the man's voice, confirming the being's masculinity, "So, which one of you summoned me?" He seemed to look back and forth between the three, "No takers? Fine, a little test. Tell me if you can still see me." With that, he promptly vanished. At least from the eyes of the muggers, anyway.
The woman was still staring directly at him as though nothing had happened. The other two however, were wildly searching around. Before they could say anything, they suddenly found their guts spilling out on the ground and their throats slit. The cloaked man was now standing on the other side of the group from where he had originally been. The woman blinked. She hadn't even seen him move.
Blood covered the once-white garment, but before her eyes, it fell off like rain on a sheet of glass to drop in a puddle beneath him. It was as though the cloth refused the stain of blood.
The warrior started to approach, but the young woman was too terrified to move. He got closer and closer, and the sound of his boots got louder in her ears, but still nothing. Unexpectedly, he held out a hand to her, "Servant Lancer, at your service Master. By the grace of the Lord."
Under the hood, she could make out a pair of brown eyes.
Fuyuki, Japan: December 18, 2124
The magus was absolutely giddy. He'd done it! The others at the Clocktower had laughed at him when he claimed he was going to enter the Grail War, saying there wasn't going to be one. He'd even shown them the command seals that were forming on his hand at the time. But still they laughed and called it an intricate tattoo, regardless of how much he insisted otherwise.
And then they had called him a failure and an idiot.
True, he was not skilled in magecraft as some were. He was not rich, did not come from a long and glorious line of magi. He had to steal his catalyst from a museum.
But he was most certainly not an idiot. A fool he may be, but an idiot he was not.
He had prepared the circle to exact specifications. He had the catalyst and spoke the correct words.
They say that age is power, and the catalyst was certainly old. The pieces of clay that had once been a container of some sort had predated recorded history.
The magus had almost literally felt the power radiating off of the result. This being was old to the point of predating metalsmithing. His spear was tipped not with a bronze tip, but a stone one. No gold adorned the regal figure, but rather the teeth of some large predator secured to a leather strap around his neck.
He wore no armor, as the concept had not been invented in his time. Instead, he was dressed in a kilt that reached to his knees, and a great mantle made from deerskin. A pair of large antlers were joined at the ends behind his neck, and curved around to cover his shoulders. His state of dress would have left little to the imagination. His muscled body was bronzed, possibly from near-constant exposure to the sun, and his hair and thick beard were black. But it was his eyes that drew attention.
His hellish, red eyes, with their cat-like pupils. That, and a strange ring on his right hand. It was made from some kind of black material, with red lines running through it.
Unfortunately, his sheer age made identifying him impossible. The magus had heard of some stories of ancient heroes cropping up every now and again, but they were extremely vague.
The man had yet to speak, so he had to take the initiative, "Servant, who are you?"
The Heroic Spirit gave an arrogant snort, "A mongrel like you does not deserve to know my name. However, I will permit you the knowledge of my class. I am Rider."
The magus couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from twitching in irritation, "Very well, then I a-"
He didn't get to finish his sentence before he found Rider's spear through his chest. The weapon had punched through his breast bone, passed through his heart, and then out his back, tearing one of his vertebrae out with it. The bloodstained tip dully reflected the light from the lamps nearby. He remained standing only because Rider did not allow him to fall. The man stared dumbly at the growing blood stain before looking up at the traitorous Servant.
The hellish eyes met his as he managed to stutter out, "Why?"
"Because I don't need you. And because I bow to no one, except for the gods themselves," Rider replied, a cruel smile marring his face. A quick jerk of the arm removed the spear and sent the former Master toppling to the ground.
The magus looked up weakly at the Servant, just as a sandal-clad foot crushed his skull.
Rider ignored the crunch and blood splatter as he reviewed the information that the Grail provided him with on the modern world.
"So the world is larger than I thought. No matter. It will be mine once again."
Fuyuki, Japan: December 20, 2124
Alexandra Marinos, pride of her family and as mature as her twenty-two years of age would allow, was utterly embarrassed and frustrated. She tried moving up and down on it, and started going faster and harder when it didn't work. It held strong against her assault. Her body ached from the strain of the past hour. Sweat was pouring off of her as she stopped to catch her breath and wipe her drenched hair out of her eyes. It was harder than she thought it would be.
Archer looked up at her, a mildly amused look on his face, showing absolutely no sign of exertion, "Are you finished already? Or are you going to keep going?"
Alexandra flushed and jumped right back to it, with twice as much effort. She swore she saw it bend slightly. A few minutes later, though she struggled mightily, she could not hold it. She let it go with a gasp.
The bowstring slipped out of her fingers and fell to the ground.
Archer, dressed in a green t-shirt and a pair of jeans, was lying on the floor a few feet away, busting out laughing. His booming voice taunted her, "Where did all of that bluster go, Master? I thought you said you were going to beat me at my own game."
The magus invented several shades of red in a single instant. One of these days, her pride was going to get her into trouble. She angrily chucked the bow at the Servant, who easily caught it, "Take back your stupid weapon, Archer." The young woman then turned on her heel and headed out of the room, "I'm going to get a shower."
"Can I join you?" The Heroic Spirit asked non-chalantly.
The Greek woman stopped and started to seriously consider it. Then she remembered something and managed to shake herself out of the stupor before muttering, "Stupid A rank Charisma." The magus whirled back towards him and shouted, "NO!" With that, she stormed off to the bathroom.
Archer sighed to himself, "Damn, so close. Why did I have to get a prude for a Master?"
Fuyuki, Japan: December 21, 2124
The shadows covered the woman as she fed. It was her favorite meal, and she loved getting as much of it as she could. Her tongue snaked out and caught a bit of it that escaped her mouth. There was still some that got away of course, but she didn't care. There was still plenty left.
Oh, how she loved the taste of it, the smell of it. She knew what people thought of her, both in life and after death. But she didn't care. She did not care for the opinions of anyone but herself.
This meal, her summons. It was all in her service. The man that summoned her only loosely claimed the title of Master, to appease both her and the judge of the Holy Grail War. She had the former wrapped around her finger since she was summon three days ago. The latter would only take time.
She was beauty incarnate, it would seem to any that saw her. Her blood red eyes matched her flowing hair, which trailed half-way down her back. Dressed in a tight black dress, her curves were emphasized. From the slit on the sides of her garment, a good bit of both legs showed. The neckline of her dress plunged to mid-way down her chest. Everything about her looked perfect.
She smiled as she thought about it, and allowed the body to drop from her grasp. She looked down at it with red eyes. A girl, barely into her maiden years, fifteen at most. And a virgin.
She loved the taste of a virgin girl's blood more than anything else.
The Grail had given her the title of Assassin, but she disdained that name. To her, it was vulgar, and did not truly describe her. She preferred to be called "Milady" or "Countess," which she insisted her "Master" to use when addressing her.
The Countess' gaze moved onto the next course of her meal. The other girl, who was the same age as the previous victim, was very much so conscious. Her hands and feet were tied up, and a gag had been shoved into her mouth. Muffled screams tried to get past the gag, but failed. She then tried to squirm away.
Assassin quickly caught her and easily lifted her up to eye level, "Now now, we can't be having that. Go to Heaven knowing that you died to better me."
Her mouth opened to reveal a pair of sharp fangs.
Reconstructed Church, Fuyuki, Japan: December 22, 2124
Father Davide Aldebrande sighed and stood up, his fifty-three years starting to show as his joints creaked.
He had been dispatched from the Vatican nearly a week ago to oversee the sudden return of the Heaven's Feel Ritual. The middle-aged former executor guessed that he had been chosen to replace the now-deceased Kotomine family because he was disposable. The Holy Grail War did have a tendency to be explosive after all.
However, he was not alone. As a surprise, it appeared that the Grail had summoned an administrator of its own. While he was suspicious of their presence, he could not help but be awed at the same time.
A slip of a girl, no more than sixteen years old, knelt in front of the altar in prayer. While dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, she seemed to exude holy power and pureness. Her blonde hair was tied back into an intricate ponytail. When he had first met her, the priest had been afraid to approach her, surprising himself. He had thought that she was the product of the corrupt Grail.
The older man shook his head and smiled. That had changed fast after he found out who she was. She was a being that not even the twisted Grail could corrupt.
He strode towards her, until he stood barely three feet behind her. Davide gave her a few minutes to finish any prayer that she was currently giving before speaking, "All of the Servants have been summoned, Jeanne."
The girl identified as Jeanne d'Arc stood up, a saddened look on her face as she stated quietly, "Then the Holy Grail War shall commence once again."
A/N: Alright, this is my first time writing a fanfic for Fate/Stay Night, and I'm also not completely familiar with some of the intricacies of the Nasuverse. I would appreciate constructive criticism, and would prefer that there be no flaming of this story. Review please!