On a gathering storm comes
a tall handsome man
in a dusty black coat with
a red right hand

Sometime in the forty-eight hours since she, Irisviel, and Maiya began staying at the castle, Saber had decided, quietly, solemnly, that she was going to put her foot through the wall of the fifth floor and walk straight off the balcony.

Two thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes had passed, and still no word from Kiritsugu. If this was his idea of punishing her after the events that transpired during her battle with Lancer, and by association, his cowardly master, then he was doing a fantastic job.

More often than not, she found herself at odds with her master; there was something about his utter lack of faith and unyielding moral maxim, clashing with his grandiose idealizations about the world, that bothered her to no end. But because of her disciplined nature, possibly the result of a long life of knighthood, she always held her tongue and hoped. Hoped that perhaps she was just not yet adjusted to the ways in which people of his time philosophized about the world. Hoped that in due time, she would come to understand him. Hoped, hoped, hoped. Like a damn fool.

But this time, her patience ran thin and, standing in the middle of the room awaiting her master's instructions like a dog, she found she could no longer be hopeful.

She was about to open her mouth to speak when suddenly she felt a pounding pain in her chest, a staccato beat not unlike the ominous ticking of a clock, counting down the moments before an enemy servant approached.

Clocks and time.

It was always time, stopping her in her tracks, taking away all that she held dear. Saber thought back to that familiar rhyme about clocks―one that she encountered in the many borrowed lives she lived, centuries after her death.

How did it go again?

She heard the faint sound of footsteps dancing across the roof of the castle and in the dark outskirts of her mind, she allowed herself to wish―just barely so―that those footsteps belonged to him. Why she was so intrigued by his presence seemed unfathomnable; she never found allure in the glamour and richness of his decadant lifestyle, never so much as hoped that she would live lavishly when she knew her people were starving. She almost resented him for it, for his choice to fulfill his own pleasure before ensuring the lives of others. She hated that he was able to indulge so carelessly.

And yet.

And yet she was drawn to him, like a child to the soft voice of his mother, weaving together nursery rhymes, enchanted.

Hickory dickory dock.

Ignoring the thudding pain that threatened to take her down on one knee, Saber grimaced and in a sharp tone, ordered Irisviel and Maiya:

"Stay here! If it is who I suspect it to be, you must then leave the castle and find Kiritsugu. You and Maiya stand no chance against him."

Irisviel seemed to wince, and draw back slightly. At this, Saber felt unsettled, and added softly, "Please, do not think to follow me. I have sworn to protect you, and I will do all that I can to honor that."

"Wait, Saber―" Irisviel started to object, her eyes stormy and fearful.

But before she could continue, Saber had already dashed across the room and out the door. She found the balcony, and true to the promises she had made to herself just moments ago, walked to the edge of its pearl white surface, turned towards the outside walls of the castle, and leapt―

The mouse ran up the clock.

Her heavily armored body threatened her against gravity as she ran along the sides of the castle, eyes frantically searching for any hint of gold―gold armor, gold swords, golden hair. Anything that indicated he was here, so that she could cut him down, and fulfill her duty as any servant would.

Ah, there it was again. The overwhelming sense of duty or whatever she liked to call it to reassure herself with. It followed her through the days, tugged at her throat during the nights, threatened to cut her open and pour out all that was left inside of her. Under its weight, she could feel the ground come up, as if hell itself were welcoming her with open arms, and swallow her whole.

No, she insisted. It is an honor, a privilege, not a chore. I must protect, must serve Irisviel, must do what is right for the world, I must, I have to, there is no other way, no―

The clock struck one.

And what of yourself? Some dark corner of her mind whispered ominously, threatening to unravel the very foundation of all she had worked to achieve, all she had lived her life convincing herself of.
What about what is right for you?

How would you know? She countered. You weren't even fit to be a king; you failed your people. How would you know how to live a just life if you aren't able to make life just for others?

Just as she was able to silence the voice that had started its work picking apart at the gaps in her identity, she was thrown back by a strong wind, knocking her from her uphill ascent.

The mouse ran down.

Landing rather roughly on her feet, she accessed her damage from the courtyard of the castle, and seeing as she didn't take any real impact, turned her attention to finding the servant responsible for her fall.

"Saber!"

At the sound of his rough voice, she turned around, faced the castle, and narrowed her eyes. Perched fifty feet above her, arms crossed, eyes wide with anticipation, and grinning so generously he could be mistaken for a circus clown, the king of conquerors stood gallantly, looking every bit the king he claimed himself to be.

Saber closed her eyes briefly and sighed, feeling like she shouldn't have bothered getting up that morning.

When she opened her eyes again and spoke, her voice was laced with exasperation.

"What brings you here, Rider?"

Hickory dickory dock.

a/n: Yeah, I get it. I'm shit for torturing Saber like this. Her valiant soul doesn't deserve the shit I put her through.

Oh well. onward & upward!

ps: Lyrics are from Red Right Hand, by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Bonus points if you know what show is currently using it for their theme song.