Chapter One

The Knight and the Lady

Merlin had said that a great destiny had been set for her, that it was imperative that it must carry through, without fail.

The young girl of golden hair who had never been allowed to adorn it with flowers as she might've wished, had she been given a choice, stood in her tunic and breeches, her boots caked with mud, her face dirty from the work required on the day of a jousting tournament. How many countless days had she practiced over and over how to fight with a sword, pulling horses and carrying heavy armor, building up her strength, playing her part in the future laid before her so that Britain might know peace?

Even so, when the challenge of the Sword in the Stone had been presented, Arturia was ready for it. She only hesitated for a moment, as times in the life she had spent flashed before her…how intently she had listened to Sir Ector's teachings at his knee…the days she had spent horsing around with Sir Kay, whom she had loved as her brother, even though they shared no blood, even as she served as his squire.

She had enjoyed and treasured the brief life of a human that she had been given.

"Arturia."

Arturia looked up, and the image of Merlin had appeared before her, swathed in robes of midnight blue, reflected in his long white beard. He observed her with somewhat sad eyes, as though, fleetingly, he might actually pity her, in spite of what must be done.

"Now, think carefully, young Arturia. If you take on this responsibility, if you pull that sword from that stone, if you prove your worth this day and become king, you can no longer be human."

But Arturia nodded without having to give it a second thought. "I understand. I have feared that fact from since I was very small. And I accept it for what it is." And then she smiled, very slightly, but very sincerely. "I love what precious life I was given, and if I could give that kind of happiness to everyone here, to give that kind of happiness to the whole of Britain, when it has been so dark for so long, I would sacrifice anything I had to, and gladly. I have faith in my strength, and I have faith that as long as I remain true to those ideals, such dreams will come true. A life is nothing at all, if it is without worth, and a life cannot have worth without the willingness to make a sacrifice."

Merlin nodded soberly, though he too did smile, a little. "I see that Fate has done well to choose thee." He bowed out of sight, disappearing into the ether.

Arturia let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, and faced the gleaming hilt of Caliburn again, the sunlight reflected off the blade giving the burning appearance of silver flame. With a hand as steady as a rock, she gripped it tight, and pulled.

The skies had reddened, as though the clouds had soaked in the blood spilled upon the earth below. Arturia Pendragon blinked blood out of her eyes as she caught her breath, having sunk to her knees after delivering the killing blow to the last to stand against her.

Mordred, blood of her blood, when all was said and done. A homunculus, born of her and Morgan Le Fay through the twists of magic. And yet she could not recognize her as her own, as her heir.

Even so, she had received a mortal wound herself in order to slay that last proof of her missteps as a king. But she supposed it was the only kind of death that someone like her deserved. She had striven to lead those under her kingship as an example of light and purity in this time of darkness. And she had, for a time, been victorious. But in order to do this, she had had to sacrifice her own humanity. As a king, she could not expect to live as a person. Living among people though, she didn't know how to make that work without everything going wrong, as it did.

Her life had been lonely from the very beginning, even as she had grown up so humbly among such kind and sincere souls like Sir Ector and Sir Kay, but she had told herself again and again that as a king, she must accept solitude as the only way she could live. To serve people, in the end, she could be close to no one. Not even the woman who had had to sacrifice her own life as a woman to be her wife, to maintain the illusion that Arturia was a man, to keep her true gender a secret in order to remain king, as the prophecy and fate commanded her.

What could she have done, to prevent this madness? It seemed it could not have turned out any other way. Not after Guinevere…and Lancelot…and Mordred….

She gave a gasp of pain, weakening as her lifeblood flowed away. She clutched Excalibur more tightly in her fist, the only thing holding her up. Yes, with Avalon gone missing, there was nothing she could do now to stave off death.

What could she do, when her scattered thoughts were full of nothing but anger, and regret, and hopelessness? If she was still alive in this present moment, then there had to be something she could do with what precious seconds she had left.

Otherwise, she would die consumed in despair.

She felt the tears come, yet she had no energy to cry, and so she let them fall listlessly down the sides of her face smudged with blood, dirt, and sweat. There was so much misery before her in this hellish vison of death on this battlefield of Camlann, she had no strength left to absorb it. The task of breathing alone anymore was difficult enough, and soon that too would be spent, leaving the rest to fall into the endless night.

She had failed, and all would be lost.

Do you wish to change this Fate?

A voice whispered to her.

Arturia looked up at the dark, clay-red sky with her dulling green eyes. What?

Though she saw nothing of the sort, she sensed a kind of hand reach down from the Heavens and offer itself to her.

You can change this Fate. Seek that which is called the Holy Grail, and you will have your wish and your miracle granted.

A wish and a miracle.

That was her last hope.

Yes, she could accept that.

Arturia lifted a shaking hand up to the sky, reaching back up to that hand she felt beckoning her from above. The Grail…yes, show me the path to it…I will give all I have...burden me with the power of the Heroic Spirits…put my faith in one last chance…to save my beloved Britain.

A peace settled into her then, and she knew that she could die without regret…because with this pact, it would not be the end.

In the darkness, she heard the call, and her Spirit answered. The call of a man's voice she did not recognize, compelling her through Time and Space towards its source, passing through the power that was in fact the Holy Grail itself. She bathed in it as in a waterfall, and became awash in a flow of information and magic, everything culminating in her mind.

What era she was destined for, what would be expected of her in her role as a Heroic Spirit, serving her mage Master as a Servant.

And then it was complete, and Arturia had returned to a physical form in a new time and place.

As the magical residue cleared away, hot like steam, Arturia appealed to the silver haze before her, seeking the one who had summoned her.

"Art thou the Master that called me?" she asked.

She held her breath, feeling reborn, swathed as she was in an imitation of her armor imbued with magic, her sword Excalibur at her side.

"Impossible," gasped the voice of the man she had heard calling for her.

Arturia turned towards the voice, opening her jade green eyes alight with new life in her new form as a Heroic Spirit, pulled into that ancient ritual they called the Holy Grail War, the Heaven's Feel. And this would be the fourth in a series of cycles.

She came face to face with a young, dark-haired man dressed in a suit of black, and a beautiful, silver-haired young woman dressed in a gown of white. Both of them stared at her, dumbstruck, unspeaking.

"I ask thee," Arturia tried again, "art thou the Master that called me?"

It was the woman in white who spoke first. "King…Arthur…?"

Arturia's eyes flicked from the man to the woman. "Yes. I am he. Or 'she' and 'was' rather. But it was the man's voice I heard summon me." Her eyes flicked back to the man.

The man remained stunned and unable to speak. So the woman stepped in again, clearly doing her best to be of help.

"But…Arthur is a…man's name…."

Arturia lifted her chin in the woman's direction, her armor clinking faintly with her movements. "Arturia, if you please. Arturia Pendragon. However…." She considered the sword in her hand, made invisible now by invisible air magic, for the purposes of protecting her true identity from other Servants and Masters in the coming War. So, she would have to cast off that name, Arturia, for the name of the Class into which she had been summoned.

Saber.

"However…I suppose it would be, Saber, since that is the Class into which you summoned me." Again, Arturia—Saber—looked to the man.

But the man stared at her moment longer, and then another, and then another, and then he narrowed his dark eyes at her, and from that glare Saber felt nothing but pure contempt. Saber reacted to such an affront in a similar fashion.

How dare he? Does this man think so little of me, seeing that I am in fact a woman? Is that what this is? What does he know about me?

She opened her mouth to voice her anger with this attitude, but then the woman took a graceful step forward, and smiled quite genially.

"Very well then, if this is who you are, this is who you are. We accept it as it is. To answer your question, it was indeed Kiritsugu who summoned you, your Master." She gestured to the man. "But I'm his wife, Irisviel, supporting him in the coming Grail War. So while he has the Command Seals, I'll be beside both of you in this fight. And I must say…it's a great honor to meet you, Arturia." She laid a hand over her heart and gave a kind of one-handed curtsy.

At such an introduction, Saber found herself softening a little. There was something about this woman, in contrast to the coldness of the man, that was so warm and inviting. Like a child one couldn't help adoring upon first meeting her.

But then the man—Kiritsugu—he looked away from Saber and caught his wife's eye. And despite her irritation with him, Saber had to observe with a measure of awe and respect the communication that seemed to pass between the two of them. In that moment alone, she could see just how close the two of them were as husband and wife, that there were many things that needn't be spoken aloud between them, because there was already a mutual understanding between them about many things.

Saber couldn't help but think sadly of the distance that had been between her and Guinevere. Even if Saber had felt no romantic attachment to the woman, Guinevere had been an admirable woman, in her own right, and it would have been nice if with at least the one who was meant to be her life partner, she could have shared some kind of partnership, despite her own oath of solitude. If she had to be honest, this Irisviel reminded her a little of Guinevere, if with a touch more innocence.

Then Kiritsugu nodded, and without looking at Saber, he turned heel and left.

Freshly offended at this complete lack of acknowledgement on his part, Saber glared after his back, feeling like it was daring her to call out to him, to shout at him and express her outrage towards him. But she would not be baited so. She stood firm, and with patience.

The great chamber echoed with the sound of the door slamming. Irisviel turned to Saber with meek and sincere apology in her eyes, eyes that were luminously red even in the deep blue light.

"Please, don't mind him."

Saber shook her head, softening again in the presence of this rather enthrallingly strange woman. "It's quite all right. He is the kind of man who lives his life in rigid silence. I have come across a few in my time." Lancelot had turned that way, in the later years, when his and Guinevere's betrayal had come to light and everything had been crushed to ashes.

Irisviel gave a small laugh that bordered on being nervous. "Well, I'd say it's nothing personal but…he isn't like most people. True, I really haven't met any people other than him, but…I just know…how different he is. So…he handles things…in his own way. It…doesn't always sit well with others."

"Different, is he?" Saber raised an eyebrow, a new curiosity about this callous-seeming Master of hers sparked in spite of herself. Even if he felt nothing but hatred for her upon the moment of their meeting each other, there was still something about him that the King of Knights latched to.

Perhaps part of it was because of this woman Irisviel, who was his wife, as she'd proclaimed. Saber certainly didn't doubt the truth of that. But because it was a fact, there was something about the idea of them as a married pair that was intriguing somehow. Just within minutes of meeting them both, she could see that Irisviel was gentle and refined in contrast to what was clearly a rough and brooding nature in he who was Kiritsugu. Yet they had somehow become united in marriage.

Of course, their situation might have been brought about by circumstances similar to how she and Guinevere had come to be married. Yet...the way Irisviel had looked back at Kiritsugu…it was more than evident…there was something between them that bound them in a deep intimacy that was strong and unshakeable.

Then again, Saber had been wrong about understanding such things in people before.

Irisviel smoothed out the skirt of her white gown and folded her hands, smiling at Saber. "Well now, ah, Saber, then? Yes, I suppose we should see about settling you in. It will be a little while before we depart for the ritual battlefield of Fuyuki, Japan. But the general plan is to have you serve as my guard during the course of the War as you do battle against the other Servants. Kiritsugu…well, he prefers to operate alone in these matters, but I don't suppose that would surprise you now that you've met him."

Saber blinked and then actually found herself smiling, a little amused by Irisviel's candor. "Very well." She nodded, understanding, accepting what was being asked of her. "Then I shall follow you, my Lady Irisviel." She withdrew her sword, concealed as it was by invisible air, and gave a small bow.

"Oh please," said Irisviel, laughing, "just Irisviel is fine." She was beaming. And then she offered her hand.

Saber stared at it a moment.

Irisviel faltered, perhaps afraid she was being too forward. "I'm sorry. I just learned that it was a normal human custom for two humans just meeting for the first time as friends to shake hands. At least in the West. As I understand, in the East, it's more common to bow but well…. We can be friends, can't we?"

"Friends?"

Saber had never really had anything like a friend before. Certainly not a female one. In the manner of comrades, the closest things she had had to friends were her Knights of the Round Table, and her adoptive brother Sir Kay. Lancelot had been the greatest of all the Round Table knights, which had made his betrayal all the more painful, yet she had born it, and silently forgiven him…because she knew all too well why it had happened, and that it had been her fault.

Irisviel suddenly became slightly bashful. "I'll admit, I'm new at this. I've never had a friend before."

Saber sucked in her breath, her mouth falling open slightly at this admission in which she found immediate kinship. And then she did more than smile—she grinned. If this fight was to be her last, the last chance she had to save her beloved Britain before accepting death for good, she supposed she could allow for small sentiments like this. After all, she sincerely felt for this woman, perhaps from the very start.

"Why yes, I think so. Of course we can be friends." She took hold of the hand Irisviel offered and the two of them delicately shook.

Irisviel positively glowed with elation. "Wonderful! I'm so glad. Well then, shall we be off?"

As the two of them made for the large doors into what appeared to be a chamber built for such rituals as summoning a Servant, Saber made note of the images in the stained-glass windows that lined the walls on either side. They all featured images of red-eyed women that looked identical to Irisviel.

When she asked Irisviel about this, Irisviel paused at the doors. "Well…we'll say…they are my sisters. But they've all gone now."

"I see." Saber could see that she had come to a box that must remain sealed to her, and she respected that. In any case, the way Irisviel had spoken of them had seemed to make her sad, just for a second. So, simply as a means to ease away that sadness, she made an effort with adding, "Well, at least you don't appear to be alone."

"No, you're right." Irisviel brightened considerably. "Kiritsugu has made me a very happy woman."

Saber tilted her head to one side, giving her a sideways, humoring look. Actually, in truth, it was her way of asking to hear more without actually saying anything. She was, after all, still quite curious about this cold Master of hers of whom Irisviel seemed to speak with such impossible warmth.

However, Irisviel shook her head. "I know what you're thinking. But while he's different, he's still at heart, a human being." She laid a hand over her own heart, as she had done before when she'd curtsied, and seemed to think reverently of something a moment before at last she tugged open the great doors to the chamber. "You know, I'll see if I can't speak to him."

"Oh, really, that isn't…" Saber started to say, but Irisviel held up a hand.

"No, no. As his wife, I must say, I'm not entirely impressed with his manners at present." And then, of all things, she winked. "It seems to me that it's grown men least of all who realize when they're pitching a childish fit." And then she glided out of the chamber.

Saber followed her out, at a loss for words. Still, if part of her role in this War already was to be tasked with protecting this woman, she would prove to be a unique charge. More than that, but there was something that radiated about her that made Saber forget just how miserably she had died, as though that life had all been nothing more than a bad dream, and she could start anew with this new reality before her and her quest for the Holy Grail.

It was like Irisviel was the light of hope, personified.

Yes, protecting a woman such her, would indeed prove to be a most noble task. In fact, it was quite easy to fall into step just behind her, and there was something Saber enjoyed already about the way Irisviel conducted herself.

Saber had spent so much of her life as Arturia—as King Arthur—trying to measure up to very lofty and pure yet intangible ideals. It was nice, in its own way, to admire another person this way. To admire a woman who clearly exuded strength and yet clearly had never in her life done so much as heft a dagger, much less a sword.

And with the kind of natural acceptance as that of the movements of the celestial bodies of the sun, the moon, the stars, the planets, Saber felt her loyalty to protect this woman sealed as if it were inevitable. Yet that was somehow comforting.

At the same time though, there was something sad about Irisviel that Saber felt again, like when she'd spoken of those likenesses of her, her "sisters", in those stained-glass windows. Like she were observing a flower at the peak of its beauty, moments before it was about to drop its petals and wilt.