The trepidation that had lingered darkly in Haley's quivering frame eased. The silver warrior only raised her sword to remove that Angelic arrow and to boldly reject Dolos's directive to terminate Diarmuid's spirit. Then she (hilariously) gave them the shaft by departing as the Panel quarreled. Haley had been ignorant to believe that Trista had callously targeted them.

The telekinetic joined the obviously gobsmacked Knight as he continued to balance his broken weight over his demonic sword. "You okay?"

"I—I am not quite sure what just transpired," Diarmuid huffed out. "But I guess it cannot be helped."

"Come on, let's get you to the Healers before the dumbfounded morons up there change their minds." She psychically assisted the wounded warrior to move underneath the bleachers.

Surrounded by golden walls, rickety beds and other battered contestants, Diarmuid eased into the coiled mattress and laid on his back. His framework felt like it was stomped by stampeding elephants. Honor and pride had both crumbled under those Gods' trampling feet.

A draw . It was not the worst of outcomes, but the stupor that followed was undeniably insane. Just as they had done in their own battles, the Gods had utilized their right to a loophole—but Trista had taken pity on him. Or was it truly the Honor of a fallen match that led to her decision? Had it been a genuine act of chivalry?

A Healer cloaked in white shuffled over and addressed the mess that constituted his bones, while Haley thought of what best to say. Diarmuid's wrinkled eyebrows- and the dullness in those honey eyes tinted with red- hinted he was distraught. The man had so many layers to his beliefs of battle that she was unaware of what exactly it was that bothered him so.

Better to shake the tree for the apples, than to wait for them to fall. "What's wrong?"

"Trista's actions... I am quite uneasy about them. This was to be a battle in which we had no regrets, and used our strengths to face off." With his chest fully restored, and the Healer departed, Diarmuid arched upward. "If she set aside her win for circumstance, I am indeed troubled."

Perhaps to Haley, this idea was rather inane. Battles were not to her liking and as long as they ended victorious, she was content. To the Knight- to the warrior, who had principles and love for battle- a forfeit such as Trista's disgraced him. She scolded herself for being unable to identify with those virtues...

Because it was important to solve the riddle that was Diarmuid's heart to her.

It was a piece of him she held dearly in her hands, and being a seasoned fighter was part of that.

"I... think you misunderstand," she started, not quite sure how to word her approach to this. "I don't think she threw away a win, or whatever." Yeah, she was bad at this, as she registered question marks dancing along his beautiful face. "Pretty sure you both were at a stalemate, and she didn't want the Gods helping her. Trista was all about having a fair fight. I think outside interference to force her to win was against her pride and principles." Haley patted the Knight on his back. "I think that's something you can relate to, right?"

The Knight breathed heavily. "Indeed."

"What would you have done in that situation? Would you have killed Trista if I'd intercepted and healed you against your wishes?"

Diarmuid shook his dark head. "No, I would have refused. There would have been no hon—" Honey eyes shot to the mischievously smiling woman. "I see what you did there."

"See? Don't be upset. If anything... you should be mad at me for intruding where I didn't belong. I was so wrapped up in worry that I didn't think. I—" Haley shot her mournful eyes to her cleats. "I dishonoured you, too. I'm sorry."

Long legs wrapped in orange slid off the rock-hard mattress, and strong arms locked around the brooding woman. "I would not go so far as to say you dishonoured me. But please, do not ever do such a thing again. I know you fear for me and I am grateful: but you must let me do battle freely. We've... discussed this."

"We have, and I will. I promise. I know you are a powerful warrior just.. Be careful, okay? Talk to me, tell me your plans, so that way…" Haley backed away from his embrace just slightly, to caress his mellow cheek. "...We can stay together." Realizing that came across a bit too strong for what she attempted to convey, she added, "If you want that."

The woman went to remove her hand, but Diarmuid covered it with his own.

"Of course."

Ooooooooooooo

S-should I show him? Lip nestled deep under her gnawing teeth, Haley peered at herself in the mirror once more.

Shoulders arched beneath the cropped hemline and threads molded to the slight curves of the sleek woman's hips. At the neckline, a scarf traveled across her collar bone and draped over her arms. At her center, a small bow tied at her navel, allowing the black seams that crocheted a delicate pattern to frill just above her knees.

The majority of the dress was cream colored, but the upper half was black, and matched the darling boots that Diarmuid had picked out for her. Her hair was still waterfall-straight; staring at herself, she decided she would do something different with it, instead of always wearing it down.

She also resolved that she wouldn't show Diarmuid, because she would rather him see the final piece she was assembling in her creative mind."I'm getting it," Haley stated firmly to Diarmuid (who was guarding the dressing room door- or her- she wasn't sure which. Maybe both).

"Was it to your liking, my lady?" Diarmuid asked, chivalrously closing the door behind her as she folded the dress over her arm to hide the design.

"Yes! I want to find some accessories! You wanna get your stuff while I do that?"

Diarmuid looked to the men's apparel and guessed he could allow her to gather what she wanted. It was a bit unnerving. It had been quite some time since he had been invited to a formal gathering of any kind. Most were comprised of drink and celebration.

This was some strange party to mark the halfway point of the tournament and the remaining participants… of which there were only 34 pairings.

"Sure, meet up at the exit when we're ready?"

"Okay, see you there!" There was cheer in her pitched voice. Another five days to relax with her Knight and she was going to milk it dry… starting with this slap in the face of a "celebration."

The stupid watch stated their attendance was mandatory. And while she rummaged through the fine golds and silvers, she concentrated heavily on how to best pay their respects to those who had lost… to the opponents who were similar to her and Diarmuid, and even those who were demented.

Having settled on what she found as perfect complements to the portrait of herself she had in mind, Haley was waltzing her way to the counter when something caught her eye. It sparkled lightly, but was essentially humble. There was an option to engrave a message on it as well.

Thoughts racing with its potential, Haley nabbed the beautiful trinket with her trusty Knight firmly in mind.

oooooooooooo

Diarmuid fastened the third to last button, and adjusted the collar of his long sleeved dress shirt. Not quite liking the way the navy sleeves covered his wrist, he rolled them to his elbows. He then tucked the curved edges into his black belt and straightened his charcoal jeans. Modern clothes began to suit him, he felt, as he brushed off the toes of his dark dress shoes.

The bathroom door snapped shut as Haley stepped out. Immediately her gaze fell upon the handsome man as he swept invisible dust off his new shoes. "Woah, you look amazing."

"Ah, thank you. I worried this style was a bit too—" Diarmuid's words caught in his throat, when his gaze alighted upon the woman before him as he straightened upright.

His beautiful master had graciously tied up half of her hair with an onyx-colored bow clip. The strands spilled seamlessly with the rest of her long, straight hair. Her bangs were arranged more to the side, to blend with the little locks that fell over her exposed dainty shoulders.

The dress she wore complimented her figure, and the scarf-like top over the crop of her dress had a little gem in the middle. The pretty pearly embossed design matched well with the boots he had picked out for her. She wore light stockings that hugged her lean, taupe-colored legs, and a little looped bracelet that she meticulously turned over on her wrist.

He was stunned speechless by how marvelously she had prepared herself. His outfit could not hold a candle to her natural beauty.

Diarmuid's silence had Haley nibbling her lip. She had hoped to impress the Irishman after he called her beautiful, but now that she felt self-conscious she went a little overboard. "Is mine too much? I... have never been to a party, so I am a little unsure."

"No—Lady Haley—you... are simply stunning," the awestruck Knight stated, giving her his most dazzling smile.

Haley felt heat rise to her ears from the compliment, and wore the blush proudly. In her mind, she was a very plain woman, and fairly skinny because of her history. So she felt greatly reassured when her Knight offered any sort of flattery.

To think that perfection such as Diarmuid would even consider bestowing her with his praise... Her lips lifted and then crooked for a moment. Did I just think Diarmuid was perfection ?

"That... makes me happy... that you think so… I kinda... wanted to impress you." Words that probably should have been left unsaid were spoken. She immediately wished she could retract them- because surely that admittance would concern the tragic Knight.

She dared to glance at the man through her lashes; he wore the gentlest smile she had ever seen. If he felt any anxieties, the shine in his umber eyes showed no trace of it.

Diarmuid stepped closer and the scent of his cologne wafted through her senses. "That I am." Palm up and outstretched for her to accept, he leaned forward like the gentleman he was. "Shall we go then, Lady Haley?"

Haley happily planted her hand in his. He's not bothered that I wanted to impress him then! The giddiness that took over felt almost out of character. We... have come such a way from when he was distant. She knew she was smiling profusely as his fingers curled around her own and he stepped into her side.

Cautious with what he physically proposed, Diarmuid smoothly asked if holding her hand as they traveled to the ceremony was alright. While they had purposefully held hands before, this subtle gesture of escort was out of his comfort zone. Most would view this as them being a couple, and while he was internally grappling with that idea, he still hadn't a clue as to the Lady's perspective on it.

Sure, his Master complimented his appealing appearance and had even just now admitted her attempt to attract his attention. She also beautifully admitted (time and time again) that she wanted him to remain loyal to her. The question was how far that fealty extended. Truth be told; dead he still was, and their time together would eventually end—

Which is why he wanted to take a leap of faith. If this little function were a signal they were transitioning to the midpoint of the tournament, time was even more limited now. There was always the risk that they'd lose—as his Match with Trista had proven—so time spent with the Lady became the most valuable factor, aside from his fate, of course.

His fate… what rubbish it was. Given a bewitching spot, forced to flee with his Lord's betrothed, death by a second geas bestowed upon his brother as a demonic boar. To be given a second chance by being recorded in the Throne, to only repeat his history against his wishes. To be betrayed…

It could have ended there- it should have. He hadn't expected to be trapped with all the curses of the Grail with Angra; tortured by the "evils of the world"; the cursed copy of his Spirit merged with the main core of himself in the Throne, then thrust into the Underworld.

Ah, how fate seemed to despise him… until it brought this wonderful Lady to his side. Even without an answer as to what truly happened at the end of the Tournament should they win, he was grateful. Due to this shady monopoly of his Spirit, he had incurred happiness and attachment. So no matter how short his remaining time, or how uncertain his fate, Diarmuid would attempt to pursue what his heart wanted.

For if he did not go for it- it would be the tragic Knight's only regret when destiny parted them.

Reposed by how she locked her hand in correspondence with his, he led her out of their little living arrangement and made the stroll to what would hopefully be a pleasant evening.

Oooooooooooooo

Little glowing Japanese lanterns appeared to float in the air under the threads to which they were attached, bestowing flickering light at the Lake of the Arena. Streams of modern red and blue lights decorated the fluffy trees that lined the sidewalks. Little alluring game booths were placed sporadically in the large field just before the trails curved behind the Dome to the Sacred Market.

Medea felt the merest bit of excitement. Where to start with Souichirou? She and the lovely man in his all black suit would enjoy this. The battle against the Observer had taken its toll on the usually average man without the added advantage of her power buffs. A moment to relax and celebrate their win was definitely warranted.

And what was a formal gathering without having some sort of fun?

The former school teacher guided his love toward the carnival games and instructed Medea on how to win. The beautiful Greek Hero in her gorgeous straight amethyst dress arched her arm. The little dart wedged between her refined fingers aimed for the balloons along the wall.

The smallest of chuckles left the stoic man's lips, as the dart clearly missed the plastic bubble of air it aimed for. Medea's cheeks flushed bright pink, while her crimson lips pouted. She plucked the next dart off the metal counter and tossed it with much fervor, only to miss again. Her left heel stomped into the dirt.

One of the greatest Magus she was, and yet she could not land this… contraption in a bubble of air? Preposterous!

"Adjust your grip, Caster," her beloved instructed, using his bony fingers to adjust her hand and wrist.

"Thank you, my love," and she was rewarded! The silly things she aimed for burst with a loud pop!

The man behind the counter extracted the little token that lay in the scraps of rubber and presented it to the smiling magus. "You get what falls out."

She cupped her hands and a little keychain plopped into her palms. At the end of it was a miniscule version of Merlin that had both former Master and Servant exchanging glances and giggling at the miniature half incubus.

Medea latched her arm underneath his as they scooted to the next fun booths. Tonight she would retrieve winnings from everything that challenged them, starting with that gigantic stuffed elf.

Oooooooooooooo

What on earth was he doing here? This level of festivities was below him. To have to… mingle with the pathetic group of individuals that entered this escapade was distasteful.

"Lord El-Melloi, you should just try to have fun," Darius said, tipping his wine glass in the direction of the deranged couple that knocked into each other, "Look- everyone else is."

"Tch. Doing so would suggest I am on their level. I am only here but that I am required to be."

The British man shrugged his broad shoulders. "Suit yourself. I will be enjoying this… extravaganza."

The caramel-haired man swallowed the remainder of his drink as Kayneth watched him meander off. The useless prat. If only he were granted someone with more dignity than the stupid man tied to him.

Ultramarine scanned the lot of petty Dead and their disreputable company. Only so few left, yet still they were not close to the end. His… Detainer at least was adequate in his ability, and the Sponsor he brought along with him, reputable. An old friend, actually. To think he would still be obsessing over such... ridiculously trivial matters was beyond the Magus… but at least it almost guaranteed his victory.

Almost.

He spied his Former Servant and that... woman as they attempted the carnival games; Kayneth could not hide his scowl. Obsession was a nasty thing, and also costly. He knew that better than anyone, after that blundering fool's obsessive codes of Chivalry and outdated honor threw away everything he had worked for.

The sooner that thing plummeted, the better.

Kayneth sighed and tipped his wine glass so the liquid swirled. "The Great El-Melloi shall direct his way to victory, not participate in some rubbish celebration like common folk," he muttered to himself.

"Come, come! There are more games, and later, we shall all let our wishes drift!" the Magician cloaked in all white sang as he urged others to do as he suggested. His lilac hued orbs locked onto Kayneth with an obscene lip curl.

Blast it all. Kayneth needed another drink.

Oooooooooooooo

It was a little repulsive to enjoy the scenic evening that was meant to "celebrate" the tournament, but spending time like this with his son was something he had long since desired. Shirou was much older now than when he had embodied the aspiring hero his son remembered.

This landscape of flower petals and water spotlighted by the setting sun's bright shine reminded the Magus Slayer of their leisurely walk, a long time ago.

It had been evening then, and little orbs of green had blinked in and out as they bobbed past the father and son dressed in kimonos. To continue the Japanese custom, they decided to wear matching kimonos to this... festival.

Though this may be a trick of the eye- thanks to the magical wonders of that Merlin character and his accompanying crew of Heroic and Divine Spirit misfits- it was undoubtedly adequate.

"I like this best," the orange top stated as he dropped another piece of bread into the water. It only floated a few centimeters away until a fish snapped at it. "It's when you are how I remember."

Lifeless onyx eyes drifted from the boy to the ripples in the water as the boat drifted towards the shore. Shirou knew the light in him had died out a long time ago, and never really understood why. Kiritsugu was a broken man when he found Shirou laying in the rubble at the end of the fourth Holy Grail war.

"You were not as... unmerciful," Shirou continued, dragging his index finger in the cool liquid under the canoe. "I want to win, and save you, but not like this."

Kiritsugu fished his pack of cigarettes from his wide sleeve, and lit one's tail end. "I know my methods are unorthodox, but it is all I know. We've discussed this."

Quiet spread between them, until music carried in the light riff of air. The Japanese man recognized that look. It was the same face that Iri wore whenever she was at a loss at how to respond. Worry, sadness, and understanding all twined together across the teenage features of the boy.

"What… happened to you, old man?" Shirou observed a flower petal, from the bushes that swayed across the lake blow into the water. "You hardened. More so than before."

Kiritsugu sighed as he exhaled a long breath of smoke. "Shirou, I am who you remember," he started, as his gaze casually meandered over the growing crowd of their competition that filled the plains of grass and trees. "I wished to atone for my gruesome deeds in life, by taking care of you… the very result of my mistakes." Tear-stained eyes carried over to the boy. "I will do what I have to here, to make sure that doesn't happen again."

Shirou understood his father's pain better than any other. He fell victim to and witnessed the horrors of the very war that broke and cursed the man before him. Now there was a strange threat that festered in this tournament; it wanted nothing more than to bring even more chaos into the world. If only there were a better way of handling things, instead of the issues that arose and the drastic tactics that ensued because of it.

But the teen wanted to be a hero of justice. He was able to save Sakura: why not his father, and the Underworld, too?

So as they coasted along the glimmering blue beneath them, Shirou shifted across the boat and embraced the man he had envied for years, and promised to become a Hero of Justice for him.

It was a promise that he knew he would keep.

oooooooooooooooooo

Alcohol. The Irishman did not quite think he would miss the hardy beverage as much as he had had. The burning sensation down his throat, coupled with glorious evening's heavens was marvelous. The music of course was somewhat overbearing, and the Gods were frustratingly invoking the competitors to participate in little "carnival games" (as they called it), but it was peaceful.

As he leaned back on the ebony wood, Diarmuid tipped his cup for his final swig of ale, as the Lady imbibed yet another "hole-in-one" or something similar. The Knight chuckled at the envious glares of her peers and returned the cup to a passing Observer who was collecting and distributing fresh drinks.

The thought of having another ale crossed his mind, but he passed. He would rather not overindulge like some of these other sorry lugs. Especially when the Lady proclaimed she was not a drinker, and was flailing a small stuffed animal prize she had won at him.

"I'm actually having more fun than I thought I would- kill me, Diarmuid!" Haley spouted, while mirroring her friend's posture against the long fence.

"I too have been rather enjoying this... 'party'." Diarmuid mused, as the melodies ramped up a notch, and a few lingering contestants began moving to the chorus.

The Irish Knight studied the way people grooved, and configured that with the knowledge given to him from the Grail. In his era, dance was not established. Music was not common either, aside from the casual change in voice a person may have had. So it was fascinating to see the way people mingled together. Might they... have a go at it?

"I wish I knew how to dance," Haley blurted, as if responding to his silent inquiry.

"You do not? Isn't it a popular thing in your era?"

"Yeah, but... I never had the luxury... It was either training, running, or keeping low. No time for dance lessons." The woman's shoulders raised and fell dismissively, but her transfixed gaze told the admiring Knight that she was sullen.

Diarmuid was no dancer by any standard, and the only knowledge he had of fluid movement was whatever he had learned from the Grail and watching those before him alone.. but why not? He dipped over his arm.

"My Lady, will you have this dance with me?"

Flustered azure eyes widened as her Knight proposed… to dance? "Wha—wha— I... I just said I don't know how to dance, though."

"I... am afraid I do not know much of it, either, but—" he delicately took her hand in his to place a fragile kiss to her knuckles as he continued, "Was it not you who said to enjoy the moments as they come, Lady Haley? Let us try."

A light, silly laugh freed Haley of her reservations. The subtle flutter of his lips as they swept across her quivering hands encouraged her. Their conversation after the first round was so long ago… yet he still remembered his promise to try for her. Even used her advice against her in the most charming way, how fitting and... lovely it was of him.

"Oh… Diarmuid... we will look so silly but..." Haley's heart was racing against the emotions in her chest. Her face was beet red, and the blissful line across her features stretched like a rubber band.

"I... I would love to."

Oooooooooooo

And here in lies... THE FLUFF. The next couple of chapters will be very light hearted compared to the dramatic overtone of the story. Then, well, I hope you appreciate it, cuz uhhh.. lets just say the calm before the storm is at work here... hehehe