Deliverance Begins Here
The Shadow gazed into the Black Sun hanging in the air. It's mind was clear, devoid of the chaos that had plagued it before.
And The Ghost was reminiscing.
Or rather, a lucid dream.
A vision on the teetering line of delusion and reality.
The warmth of nostalgia and days past as one's life blood drained away.
Ah, the Wraith could remember it well.
The splendor of your battle was what had decided my loyalty, my King.
The convictions you held resolute; stronger than steel, more steadfast than any mountain.
The battle you fought was magnificent.
The gallant and charisma that ensnared the hearts of men to follow you to victory or death.
It was as if I was enlightened by His light, a calling to a purpose of Higher Order.
And I, who had thought of myself to be prodigious; all I had was this blessed body and swordsmanship.
Was at a loss for words.
I hurriedly joined your banner, and found that what I thought was true.
A King is honest.
A King is fair.
A King is immovable.
A King who sacrificed mind and emotion to best decide for her subjects.
A King who sacrificed body, forever doomed to immortality as long as she rules, all for her subjects
A King is…what you are.
You were the perfect leader, the admiration of the ideal I wanted to become.
If I could only throw away my beast like physical self, I could strive to be on the same plane as you.
But my physical self could not be shed fast enough, and it doomed me.
I took the Queen, she took me.
A mistake.
I should have stopped myself, I should have acted upon the cold logic and reasoning that the King used to save the Kingdom.
But I did not.
I ruined you.
I ruined her.
But why…
Barely a ghost at this stage, his existence only being fueled by the latent prana from the spill of the Ley Line when the Cup imploded. An existence touched by the black sludge, his very essence was tainted.
But he cared not.
But why…
BUT WHY…!
WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY
The Ghost saw something through the fires, and begun walking towards it. It didn't consciously think of it. The Shadow just followed his instincts like the horrible beast it was.
WHY WONT YOU PUNISH ME!
The King must be just.
Please give me the sentence I deserve, the one I crave.
I broke the loyalty and trust I sought from you.
I broke the friendship you had given me.
I broke the fragile marriage you had kept for the sake of our people.
I committed far too much, to be let go.
Do not forgive me.
For I cannot forgive myself.
Let me do what is right
There was a small child laid before it, unbreathing. A tear through his shirt revealed a clean puncture through the sternum. A small pipe covered in blood barely two centimeters in radius sat beside the child, a trail of red originating back to the green jumper the child had worn.
I am a beast.
I could not control myself, I fell to the sins I denounced.
I could not strive to become what I wanted to be.
The Wraith reached out. It's existence was barely noticeable, thinning as the seconds past. The clawed hands of the Ghost touched the body of the child.
Miraculously, the child was still alive. The Shadw could feel a similarly sinister substance inside of the boy as with the mud around him. A soul being eroded by the mud would produce massive amounts of prana akin to a star burning out. The ambient energy reinvigorating the small organs to live and function for as long as possible.
But it wouldn't be enough. The boy was getting colder.
Please, allow me to atone.
To find a bath towards salvation and cleansing.
Suddenly red veins rushed out from where it's palm rested on the child's body.
The wraith shifted, a possibility coming to him.
A possibility more akin to hope.
A possibility most likely to be meaningless.
I am disgusted in myself…
But not in my code…
But not in my ideals…
But not in my admiration for you, my King…
The wraith felt the pull of the grail within the mud that resided in the boy's body. The red veins started beating now, confirming the wraith's suspicions.
And so, I must find my own path.
I must find my own salvation.
Do not forgive me, my King.
Tell me what I did wrong.
Please keep living as you are, do not sully your virtues by caring about me.
Let me atone by allowing myself to be you, just…for a moment.
A bright light engulfed the two figures. Technicalities in the universe juggled for dominance as paradoxes presented themselves, with no resolution to go down.
A boy with an Origin of S_o_d
A boy with an Element of _w_rd
A boy with a fractured soul, being eroded by a sludge that could extinguish or create the very essence of beings. Like a crystal ball that had shattered internally and the shards being pushed away by a stream.
I will be steadfast to my ideals to the very end….
…This time…
The cracks were filled, as the body struggled to cope. The wraith pushed deeper and deeper into the core of the boy. The place he was trying to reach was even further beyond the Throne of Heroes.
The Holy Grail was originally a gate to the Root.
And the Root contains all.
The Child of the Fae was at home in this environment, and nestled in the address he found.
He would be the glue that held this boy together. For as long as the boy lived, an endless struggle that would stretch his own existence every which way as the World would struggle to right itself.
An existence that belonged here, an existence that belonged there.
A paradox.
A forced existence.
If I can save one…
If my being that I detest can save one…
I can be like you…
To give mind, body, and soul, to be like you…
The Wraith prayed for forgiveness from all he held dear centuries ago. His foster mother. His friends. His brothers in arms. His lover.
But he did not ask from his King.
He instead, asked his own self if he forgive his transgressions. The answer did not come to him, a feeling of nirvana struck him. The Wraith curled himself, lying in fetal on this new dimension as he was pulled deeper in.
A sudden white beam erupted into the sky, piercing the black sun, driving away the corrupted mud.
A certain man who could not follow his ideal, similarly to the Wraith, would use the beacon.
This man would try to atone for his sins and wrong doings, similarly to the Wraith, and try to save even one being from the Hell he had created.
And he would run past burning houses and corpses to find a small body lying on the ground with an arm outstretched.
"Thank God," the man expressing gratitude to no one in particular, not even the deity he spoke of.
"Thank you, for being alive." "Thank you, for being alive"
One small boy had helped two broken humans find a small bit of salvation that night.
Some could say it was luck, some could say it was coincidence.
Illya's hand rocketed back as she scampered away from the body of the teenager in front of her. Blood was beginning to pool around the white of his coat and pants. A rifle was thrown off to the side, a pistol in near his hand.
Transference of memory was impossible between humans simply through contact.
"W-what…" she gasped, lungs suddenly void of air.
Illya's hands shook as she covered her eyes. Tears threatening to erupt, past the barriers her grandfather had instilled and she had created over years and years. All this time the only emotion she felt was vengeance. A cold wrath upon those who stole her Father away. It wasn't unpleasant per se, but it was distinct.
But now, she was feeling the emotions she thought were programmed out of her, emotions she thought she was unable to feel.
And not just one, but seemingly hundreds.
Shock at the discovery of a boy who was mauled by the Einzbern family wolves as he accidentally stumbled onto their properties due to an ill-timed blizzard.
Resolution, to know that her Father and Mother had both died, both still deeply in love with each other.
Happiness, to know that her Father had loved her to the very end, and had tried to rescue her.
Yearning, for the contact of her parents who she had pushed out of her mind.
Sadness, to know she could never be with the man who was her world.
Thankful, she was happy to know that this boy had brought some measure of happiness into her Father's final days.
Fear, the boy was dying all because of a series of freak accidents.
Illya stood and wiped her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her white upper outerwear.
"SELLLLLAAAA, LEYSRITTT" the young homunculus screamed into the sky.
"What is wrong, my lady?!"
"Yes…"
The two appeared from the shadows as if they were present the entire time.
Illya turned around and held her hands out.
His name was Shirou Emiya. He was a boy who had nearly died, but was saved by two broken men, and in turn was able to save them.
A fractured soul that was fixed by the core of a heroic spirit filling in the gaps at the very Root.
It was a stretch.
A big stretch.
Illya tugged at the edges of her mind. In mere seconds Leysritt had understood Illya's goals, intentions, demands.
And apologies.
The handmaiden did nothing but bow, and with that her body began to distort.
In moments, a white and crimson robe encircled her. Golden rings struck each other and tolled brightly.
Halos of light began to form around her.
"Please," Illya begged.
Authors Note:
Hello Readers!
This is my first story, I've been a phantom member for a while, but ever since I got back into writing I've been itching to contribute. So I wrote this simple one shot in a day as practice.
The idea came for this while I was at a friends house and we were discussing our favorite heroes from Fate/Zero (my friend had finally gotten around to watching it). I always had a particular fascination with Lancelot. In his descriptions in the novels, DVD extras, and wiki he's represented in Nasu's world as the "physical ideal" of a knight. A constitution of strength, speed, endurance, and skill. But this implies that his mindset was not ideal, as it seems he's self aware of that.
He is a passionate person, unable to fully reign in his emotions. He runs off to combat, he enters a contest in disguise to save the honor of his friend, etc etc. And because he knows this and can see the short comings, he is even more enamored with Artoria who has everything he has and above being the ideal Knight, is an ideal king in every sense of the word. He sees Artoria forgiving him of his crimes to be sullying her own being who embodies the ideals he wants.
My friend presented a question about how Lancelot and Shirou would interact. Slowly in my mind this story began gnawing at my head. I also vaguely remember reading a story written here about Shirou becoming Lancelot Beserker and was strangely inspired, sadly the story was taken down from what I see.
By being able to save the soul of Shirou and placing his own heroic core as the glue to bind the shattered soul, Lancelot is able to become Artoria for a brief second. Lancelot is able to sacrifice body, soul, and mind in the pursuit of holding the values he puts forth. As a knight his duty was to protect and save the people. This version of Lancelot is bound to Shirou's soul, creating a dynamic of two souls in one body, but with Lancelot giving up everything for Shirou. A strange cohabitation.
I also found Lancelot and Kirisugu to be similar people, why I added that bit at the end where Shirou by being saved, ends up saving others too ironically enough (hence the title of this story).
I experimented with some techniques, such as vagueness, identity, spacing, and integrating overarching themes.
On to the most controversial bit, justifying why Lancelot was able to fuse his core into Shirou's soul.
My reasoning was that when Lancelot touches Shirou a strange event occurs. Shirou has an origin and element as a sword, so on all levels but physical he considers himself to be a sword, as indicated by his aria. So Shirou is technically a weapon, when Lancelot touches him, Eternal Arms Mastership activates giving him complete master over this "weapon." Which would include information about the soul and the origins of the soul, in addition "Knight of Owner: a Knight does not die with Empty hands" would give him ownership of Shirou akin to a Noble Phantasm, a part of his legend. So Lancelot has the information and authority over Shirou in this particular circumstance to become a deeper entity within Shirou's consciousness.
The part with Illya was a throw in at the end. I had a crazy idea in the past where Shirou takes after Kiritsugu instead and joins a mercenary group and becomes their sniper They were tasked with killing a criminal out in Southern Germany. Shirou get's separated when a blizzard followed by an avalanche makes him fall into Einzbern territory. Where he is subsequently eaten by wolves and is found by Illya.
The transference of memory is an idea that FSN juggles around, with Masters being able to see memories of their Servants and vice versa as dreams and deajavus. I had the idea that Illya, being the Larger Grail would be able to sympathize with the raw portions of Heroic Spirits and see what makes up their Legend.
Just a dumb idea to be perfectly honest, please don't crucify me.
Feedback would be much appreciated.
Sou-Bu-