Fourth Night (6)
Illya fought back a grimace as she had to admit that she was finally beginning to feel the strain of so brazenly making use of the incredible amounts of prana now at her disposal.
The endless legions of the King of Conquerors had kept her busy with crowd control duty, massive volleys from her hastily formed Angel's Fire magecraft removing dozens at a time...but there were thousands of the damn pseudo-Servants, all of them bearing down on her and her allies in a continuous and unbroken wave of screaming lunatics that made Herakles seem positively verbose and soft-spoken in comparison.
Biting back a newly learned curse as the horizon turned black with incoming arrows, spears and javelins Illya aimed her magecraft skyward, flashes of molten silver flying into the formations of projectiles and detonating with sun-bright bursts of energy, turning most of the missiles into ash while knocking the others off course.
And it was Saber that saved the Homunculus from being run through by a phalanx of spears, Excalibur and a surge of prana enhancing her body while smashing aside the pointed ends of metal that would have skewered the Homunculus while she was clearing the skies.
Berserker was busy fighting off a few hundred soldiers, Caster's monsters and the previous war's Berserker, even the strongest Grecian hero only able to do so much.
"Thank you, Saber!"
"My pleasure, Lady Illyasviel. I used to do this for your mother!"
A grunt of exertion preceded a wave of compressed air to be fired from the tip of her sword, flattening a few dozen pseudo-Servants and kicking up a wave of concealing sand as the Homunculus wiped her brow, frowning at the light sheen of sweat that coated her fair skin.
When was the last time she had actually strained her body to the point of overheating?
"You mean you used to protect Momma from a legion of crazed warriors while she blowed them up by the hundreds, as Servants fought Servants in a free-for-all melee?"
"...Perhaps not that exactly, but I did used to protect her from-"
"I'm joking, Saber. I know what you meant."
"Ah."
Sucking down a lungful of air Illya once more directed her Angel Fire constructs to take aim, beams of energy wiping out entire ranks of the Reality Marble's forces...and almost collapsed as an abrupt wave of dizziness assailed her, coming to the uncomfortable realization that inbetween supplying herself and Shirou-who was no doubt giving it his all against the King of Heroes-she was coming dangerously close to reaching the limits of what even her incredible levels of prana and impressive magic circuits could handle.
"Lady Illyasviel, are you-"
"I'm fine, Saber! Focus on the battle!"
The gesture was appreciated, but what was Saber going to do? Put an ice cube against her forehead and hold it there while the battle went on pause? There was only winning or losing, nothing inbetween.
"HIIYYAAAAHHHHH!"
Both women's gazes snapped to a gargantuan chariot racing towards them, Iskandar boldly snapping the reigns as he sped through the chaos of battle, none of their allies close enough to help them as Saber leapt to her feet, announcing, "I've faced down the King of Conquerors before, I'll do so again! Lady Illyasviel, watch my flanks!"
"Got it, Saber!"
Standing firm against the rapidly approaching chariot Saber released a slow, measured breath as she raised Excalibur heavenward, gathering the necessary energy to unleash the Noble Phantasm.
...She would have to hope that her Master would be able to hold up to the strain of her constant battle, that the drain of prana wouldn't cripple Luvia in a time of need.
"EX-"
CLANG!
Halting her movements Saber stared around the desert landscape with confusion, a noise like breaking glass and crashing waterfall assailing her senses.
"What just...oh."
All across the imagined terra a strange and very welcome sight was occurring. Namely, that of the mud of corruption sloughing off the bodies of the soldiers of the Ionian Hetairoi, maddened and bloodthirsty expressions replaced with ones of bewilderment and uncertainty as they stared at their fellows, asking questions of each other before turning to face their King.
A King that had slowed his chariot's charge to a sedate pace, pulling to a stop next to the Homunculus and King of Britain, insanity substituted with calm appraisal as Iskandar and Arturia stared the other down.
All while the Reality marble slowly collapsed, desert vista gradually being replaced with a smoke-filled and starry night sky rather than the endless blue of Iskandar's Noble Phantasm.
"...Way to go, Onii-chan."
Weakly collapsing against a nearby wall Illya closed her eyes with a content smile, able to feel that her brother-while obviously exhausted-was still very much alive.
And he'd done it, beaten both the King of Heroes and somehow closed the portal, severing the connection the Lesser Grail had to their reality. A conclusion supported by the way the Servants from the Fourth War were slowly beginning to fade away, motes of light drifting off their forms at a gradually increasing pace.
"Not exactly the best of circumstances for us to meet again, eh, King of Knights?"
The albino turned her attention to where the Rider Servant had dismounted his chariot, now conversing with Saber on more even ground, the construct and oversized oxen quickly fading away.
"King of Knights, is it? Not little girl?"
Offering a lopsided grin at Saber's wry tone Iskandar replied, "Indeed. You look like you've been run ragged, Saber! Tired, worn out, a distinct loss of composure..."
Smile becoming almost fond the Servant concluded with, "You look a sight more Human. More kingly, if you will."
An amused scoff left Saber even as she dematerialized Excalibur, dryly retorting, "Your perception of the ideal King is one who has been, to borrow a more modern term, 'put through the wringer'? I fear there are some things we will just have to agree to disagree on, King of Conquerors."
"Saber!"
Three pairs of eyes turned to face a fast approaching form holding spears of red and gold, movements swift as he landed primly, striding towards the pair of Servants with sure steps and a stiff back...before Diarmuid bowed deeply to the blinking King of Knights.
"Saber, I...I can't even begin to apologize for my previous actions. Both at the end of the previous war when I cursed your name and wrongly accused you of having no honor and now, when I cast aside my pride as a knight and stooped so low as to see you trampled underfoot for no other reason than spite."
The man's voice quavered so badly that he seemed on the verge of breaking down in tears.
"I died shamefully in life and yet, despite being gifted a second chance in death...I continue to debase myself. I have no right to claim any chivalric title of meaning."
For a time the spearman remained bowed at the waist, Rider watching in curiosity as Saber stared at the Knight of Fianna with an unreadable expression...and with a tired sigh and equally tired smile she set a hand upon the Servant's shoulder, stating, "Raise your head, Lancer. There is nothing you need apologize for, or hold yourself in contempt over. The Fourth War was not a kind one to those of us who follow the path of knighthood and honorable combat...and this most recent showing was not you, this was a corrupt and malignant artifact that drove you to such actions."
Diarmuid dared to raise his head, raw emotion plain to see as Saber squeezed the shoulder she had grasped.
"You never lost sight of your way, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne...only had it tested by powers outside of our control."
Thickly swallowing the man pulled himself upright, waveringly stating, "You truly are the King of us Knights, Arturia..."
"And what am I? A window decoration?"
Rider's petulant complaint was met by scoffs from the pair, Saber turning on Iskandar with a scathing remark of, "YOU are a duel interrupting-"
"-chivalry mocking-"
"-tyrant of a windbag-"
"-that wouldn't understand the prospect of an honorable duel-"
"-if it stabbed you in the arse!"
Rider blinked at the perfectly in concert duo, appearing at loss for a moment...and then the trio shared a hearty laugh, the taller Servant remarking, "Well I think it goes without saying that Lancer over here would have been a shoe-in for a position at that Round Table of yours, eh, King of Knights?"
Snorting with regal dismissal Saber replied, "Please, it was bad enough having one womanizer at the Table, having yet another would have-"
"JEANNE!"
All eyes turned in the direction of a stumbling Caster, bug eyes rolling in his sockets as he snarled with frantic energy, tome clasped tightly as he ranted, "God's filth truly does defile and corrupt this world, perverting my love and devotion! No matter, when it comes to acts of-"
CRUNCH!
The gathered group flinched as a backhand from Lancelot removed the crazed Servant's head, the body swiftly completing its dissipation as the armored form of the Berserker stalked forward with calm efficiency.
"...Remain on guard, we don't know just how in possession of his wits our friend over yonder currently is."
Iskandar's words were heeded, Illya adjusting her position while the other three Servants prepared their weapons, Lancelot coming to a halt no more than three steps from Arturia.
A moment stretched into seconds, the beginnings of his return to the Throne of Heroes manifesting in small trails of dark purple energy as Saber held her ground, resolutely staring into the glowing visor of her oldest friend and most potent enemy-
-and with a slow, almost hesitant gesture the helm was removed, exposing the knight's face for all to see.
Saber could only stare, memories of the fourth war and Lancelot's crazed sneer contrasting sharply with his current state.
Yes, he looked terrible. Hair matted and greasy, eyes sunken and bagged, skin pallid and lined...but it was unmistakably Lancelot that stared back at her, her once most faithful and powerful knight.
"...My King."
His voice was raspy and dry-no doubt a consequence of all the mindless screaming-and contained hints of apprehension and shame within...yet it was another blow to Saber's composure, to hear that baritone in a more casual setting outside of battle or betrayal.
"I...I wanted to tell you something, to-"
WHAM!
Even Iskandar's jaw dropped as Saber, with a wild fire blazing in her emerald eyes, punched Lancelot across the face as hard as she could and sent the Servant skidding into the wall of a half-collapsed building, a display sign falling onto the weakly shifting man's head as he sputtered, "W-what? My King, you-"
This time it was a solid and resounding slap across the face that shut the Servant up, Arturia grabbing the lapels of Lancelot's armor as the knight looked upwards like a wounded and abused puppy, lip bleeding and cheek swelling as he tried to comprehend just what had seized the once and future king-
-and stilled as he realized her gauntleted hands were trembling violently as they dug into his armor, swimming orbs of green blazing with a thousand conflicting emotions.
"You...you damn fool of a knight...everything was because of you, because of me-"
"My King?"
Drops of salty liquid painted the front of Lancelot's armor, the man blinking in blatant shock as the trembling in Arturia's hands swiftly travelled to her shoulders, head bowed and expression hidden from view.
"I...I'm so, so sorry...even in death my failures in life continued to haunt my subjects! To hate and despise me so much that you were suitable to be affected by the mad enhancement...I failed-"
"No!"
Hands seized Saber's shoulders, forcing her gaze upwards as Lancelot staggered to his knees, prostrating himself before the King of Britain.
"My King, please listen to me! My madness...was my own fault. When I began an affair with Guinevere, when my adultery and broken oath brought low the brotherhood of the Round Table...I couldn't bear it. I desired nothing more than to be punished at your hands, to have you make me atone for my transgressions."
Saber's hands balled into fists, eyes screwing themselves shut as she whispered, "And I never once did so. I failed to carry out the most basic tenet of rulership, that crimes must be punished. Even worse, I failed to realize the desires of you, one of my most faithful and proud knights. What pitiful excuse of a King knows not the mind of her subjects?"
"A Human one, my King...one we all followed with naught but certainty in our hearts, that we can proudly say we once served."
Saber's eyes widened at that proclamation, Lancelot daring to raise his head and meet Arturia's gaze with nothing but raw honesty written upon it.
"My rage and anger was at myself, at my inability to properly absolve myself of my crimes...I always knew who and what you were, my King. To ask you to punish me when it would have gone against what you believed and practiced was naught but selfishness on my part."
The knight's words did little to assuage Saber's turbulent emotions, her tone bitter as she whispered, "A selfishness that might have averted Britain's fate of destruction. What use was my path of the perfect king when all it did was alienate my closest and most trusted retainers? When it drove them to rebel against such an immaculate sovereign?"
"Who can say? But, my King...do you know what failure makes you? It makes you Human, my King. And despite ultimately being no different than the rest of us mortals and flawed beings of skin and muscle...we always believed. Because there was one aspect of you that did rise above us all."
A small, proud smile lit up the tired man's features.
"King Arthur never gave up. Not against the Saxons, not against the impossibility of gathering a hundred different knights under one banner and not even against your own rebelling countrymen, brothers and sisters. And now here I see you, beyond even death while still trying to make amends with a broken and spiteful fool that enabled what could have once been utopia to come crashing down."
Saber reeled as if struck, remembering Cú Chulainn's very similar statement not long ago.
...How sick of a joke was it, that her knights believed her to be one who never gave up, when that was precisely what she had intended?
Furiously wiping away her tears Arturia gathered up Lancelot in a fierce hug, the knight stiffening in shock as she murmured, "Thank you, my most faithful knight. You continue to serve me beyond what I deserve, even millennia later..."
Relaxing a fraction and patting Arturia on the back Lancelot replied, "It is I who should be thanking you, my King...to finally impart to you what my madness prevented."
"..."
"..."
"If I'd known how satisfying it was to simply punch an aggrieved party into submission, I would have employed that tactic far more often during my reign."
A chuckle left the traitor knight, tone nostalgic and humorous as he mused, "I imagine that would have given Sir Lucan no shortage of anxiety, had you simply ruled Camelot by the strength of your arm and weight of Excalibur's pommel."
Feeling light for the first time in what felt like an eternity Saber rose to her feet, Lancelot falling to one knee as she smiled, eyes closed as her once again most loyal servant's form turned transparent, the final stages of his existence before retuning to the Throne.
"Should fate have our paths cross once more...I will always count on my most trusted and loyal knight to fight by my side. Until we meet again...friend."
With a final release of colored light Lancelot faded away, content smile on his lips and eagerly awaiting the next time he would be called upon to serve his King once more.
...
A sudden sniffle snapped Arturia out of her trance, Diarmuid averting his face as Iskandar sighed, amusedly asking, "Come now, Lancer, are you truly crying?"
"You would not understand, King of Conquerors...such a heartfelt reunion and reconciliation between king and vassal..."
Blushing red with embarrassment Saber hastily said, "It was nothing so grand, do not make such a scene out of it!"
Mastering himself Diarmuid took a deep and shuddering breath just as his lower half began to vanish into the ether, Rider following suit.
"It seems our time is up, Saber. A shame, I had wished to see what my Master has made of himself in the interim. Next time we meet we'll have to invite goldie and have another banquet! I like the look in your eyes, I think our conversation will be a far more lively one this time around!"
"Preferably with my sword at his throat...but yes. Lively. Farewell, King of Conquerors."
With only a whisper to mark yet another Servant returning to the Throne of Heroes Arturia met Diarmuid's gaze, nodding in respect.
"A tragedy we did not have a chance to properly conclude our duel, Saber...but I shall look forward to it nonetheless, among the infinite realities that we exist among."
"I shall do the same, Diarmuid. Until that day I shall endeavor to keep my blade sharp in preparation for the time it once again crosses your spears."
One last smile from the Lancer…
And then the streets of Fuyuki felt far more empty than they had just a few minutes prior.
"It's...really over now, isn't it?"
Staring up at the sky devoid of corruption, only greasy smoke and fire to compliment the stars...Saber finally allowed herself a true moment of peace, of satisfaction at finally reaching the end of a long journey.
Two pairs of footsteps sounded out behind her.
"Thank you for waiting, Lancer, Assassin."
"It was no problem, Swordlady. And Spearguy was crying so he didn't want to interrupt."
"Oi, I wasn't crying, there's just a shit ton of smoke and crap in the air!"
Lips quirking upwards in a small smile Saber mused, "Oh? I wouldn't have thought of the Hound of Ireland as the sentimental type."
"Save it, Frenchie. I wasn't crying and that's final."
Rolling her eyes at the insult Arturia finally turned to face her two comrades, stating, "Let us hurry, our Masters are still out there and there no doubt exist a great many people that need our...help..."
Saber trailed off, eyes locking onto where Illya had been sitting...the Homunculus now doubled over and weakly struggling for air, magic circuits sluggishly pulsing as steam rose from her body, sweat coating her brow.
"Lady Illyasviel!"
Sprinting towards the albino Saber quickly raised her to a sitting position, worriedly asking, "Lady Illyasviel, what happened?! Are you alright?!"
"S-sorry, Saber...guess I got a little ahead of myself in assuming I was pretty much unstoppable..."
The Homunculus felt like kicking herself for such a-in hindsight-obvious mistake that she was now struggling with.
With the destruction, sealing or whatever had exactly occurred of the Lesser Grail the task of sustaining the remaining Heroic Spirits now fell to her, since the other Masters had both their contracts annulled and wouldn't be able to sustain them anyway. And without the vast reserve of accumulated mana the Lesser had contained to help aid in summoning said spirits she was now stuck in the unenviable position of supplying four Servants with mana.
A task that, as her circuits burned and body overheated, she wasn't entirely certain she could handle.
"The four of you...a little too much for me to handle..."
Expressions wiped themselves clean as the trio exchanged glances, even Jack understanding the import of what Illya was saying...and Cú Chulainn sighed, shouldering his spear before dryly stating, "Well, guess that's my cue...war's over and there's practically no one left to fight. I got some action-and a lot more shit I never wanted to begin with, but let's ignore that-and can go back to the Throne without any regrets."
"No, Lancer."
Saber gently set Illya on her back before rising to her not so imposing height, affixing the man with a resolute expression.
"I...have closure. And an understanding of what it is I should do in life. It is time for me to meet my destiny, whatever it may be. You still have many things to experience and attempt in this newfound existence, there-"
"Oi oi! You just got over the whole 'martyr for the cause' thing, now you wanna go right back to it?"
"There is an appreciable difference between sacrificing myself for a comrade and friend, as opposed to fulfilling a role that many would consider unnatural and unfeeling-"
"I see you trying to play the 'friend' card, Arturia! It ain't working!"
Both Servants glared at the other, neither willing to back down as Jack nervously glanced between them...and with a heavy footstep Herakles set one of his meaty hands on each of their shoulders, instantly quelling any and all arguments that may have arisen or were about to be raised.
"Berserker?"
Illya's fading tone reached the giant's ears as he smiled, an expression that looked odd on the hulking Servant as he bent low, gently reaching out a hand to lightly ruffle the albino's hair.
"In life...my children, dead at my own hands. In death...can now save you, Master..."
The tectonic and rough words, forced through the veil of anger and madness caused Saber and Lancer to blink in blatant shock, Illya instantly cluing in to what Berserker was saying.
Of the four current Servants he was definitely the most mana intensive, easily as much as the other three put together...but her was her protector, her loyal guardian that had never left her side!
"Berserker, I...I..."
"Master...my wish, is this. Brother, will keep safe...not me, any longer."
Her lip quivered, eyes moistened...and Illyasviel shakily nodded in acceptance of the Grecian hero's request.
"I...I understand, Berserker. Thank you...for everything."
Reaching deep within her Illya found the strand of energy that connected her and the Berserker-class Servant, firmly grasped it with her power...and snapped it asunder.
Almost immediately the hulking man began to dissipate, one final smile and pat of her head the last action of Illyasviel's guardian.
And then he was gone, much of the heat and strain her circuits and core had been under stabilizing and evening out, the remaining three Servants staying silent out of respect for their fellow's act and Illya's grief.
"Stupid Berserker...almost as bad as Onii-chan, being all selfless and stuff..."
Angrily wiping away her tears Illya managed to rise to her feet with some difficulty, striving to be strong just like Berserker had been.
"Saber, Lancer, Assassin...find out what happened to everybody else and make sure all of the monsters or whatever are dead. Go."
Nodding in acceptance the three leapt into motion, the Homunculus following the connection within her soul that would lead her to Shirou with uneasy and tired steps.
…
They had done it. They'd won. Destroyed the corrupted Grail and put an end to the Grail Wars as well as revive the Third Magic, at least to an extent.
There was just a few last things to take care of...
So I have a sliding scale for happy endings. The more shit the characters have to deal with, the more losses they take and the more invested I get in their struggle the more desperately I yearn for a happy ending.
Which is why one of the last scenes of Zero, of Lancelot wishing he could have told Saber his thoughts but couldn't because madness enhancement and just plain dead was such a kick in the teeth, since she was basically one playing of Fortunate Son away from going full PTSD at that point.
Thankfully this is the true strength of fan fiction, I can provide closure in a way that serves my desperate desire for a 'true ending', of Saber managing to truly reconcile with the people who helped her during her reign as King. Nothing against the Saber/Shirou route with them frolicking forever in Avalon, but if we're dealing with old Heroes brought back to life you may as well take advantage of that.
And poor Herakles usually gets the short end of the fuckstick in all of the Routes, what's up with that?! Everyone be all like, 'Oh poor Medea, poor Rider, poor Sakura'...what about poor Herakles?! I think the only character that fails their tasks in more routes than Berserker is Shinji...
But...yep. That's the Grail War.
Now comes the fallout.
