Fate Stay Night – Unlimited Boob Works

Chapter 22

"The Light On The Far Side Of The Darkness"

"S – A – A – A – A – B – B – B – B – E – E – E – E – R – R – R – R !"

Shiro's voice split the night.

"Saber – "

He called afterwards, over and over again, as if by saying her name enough times he could somehow call her back to him again.

"Saber – Saber – Saber – Saber . . ."

Rin looked at him wide eyed. He was still kneeling on the ground where everything had happened, his arms folded around him, holding the empty air where she had been.

"Shiro – " she said uneasily, trying to wade out into the storm of his grief. "You mustn't blame yourself. You didn't know what was going to happen. None of us could have known – "

"Of COURSE I knew what was going to happen", he snarled, looking at her angrily over his shoulder. "What else could I THINK? What else possibly COULD happen?"

Lancer shifted.

"There, there lad. It isn't your fault. Things happen in war, and you have to –"

Archer moved to cut him off. For all of the times that he had been hard on the boy, this time he looked down at him with a surprising softness.

"Saber – "

Shiro said again, his voice going back to a shivering sob.

"Saber . . . Saber . . . Saber . . . Saber . . ."

"How does one quit a Holy Grail War?"

Rin looked at Illya in horror.

"You can't say that – you're an Einzbern!" she shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her violently. Illya made no move to defend herself, her body lolling from side to side like a rag doll.

"Don't you get it, Rin?"

"Get what!" Rin shouted angrily. "What is there to get!?"

"Nothing!" Illya shouted back, suddenly finding her will again. "There's NOTHING left to fight for! Not without Shiro . . . We've already lost. We both have."

Rin looked at her with disgust. As she glared, she was filled with the impression that if Shiro were to die, and they had him cremated, that Illya would gladly lay herself upon his casket and perish with him, without so much as a single cry of protest. Just the thought made her angrier still.

"GRR – that's TWICE I've been beaten in one day!" she said to herself, as Illya looked back at her with her red eyes, so lamblike and gentle.

"Fine!" If Illya chose to marry herself to him in this way, then she would give her the full brunt of her wrath. After all, she couldn't very well take it out on Shiro. Not in his present condition.

"That might be all fine and good for HIM – none of this ever really concerned him anyway – but you and I are part of the Three Great Mage Families – WE have Command Seals – " she said, holding her hand up for emphasis.

'Unless of course you'd like to me to chop off your arm and send it back to that creepy priest – I would do that, you know? Though I shudder to think of what he might do with it – " she added, her face contorting as a shiver went down her spine.

Shiro stared blankly at her outstretched arm. At the moment he was sitting in his futon, his eyes vacant, and unresponsive. He'd been like that ever since last night, when they had gotten back. Archer had carried him in, and placed him in his bed, while Illya got undressed and laid down next to him, not caring what her Father or anyone else thought, for she had decided to spend the night with him.

He'd remained that way throughout the night, and the following day. In the evening, Sakura had come to try to persuade him to eat, or at least drink something, but to no avail. At the moment he was still in his futon, sitting up on his knees, with the blankets spilled all around him. There was something transcendental about his grief – the shape of the covers spread out around him like the petals of a wilted flower, mired in the mud of the earth, while his thoughtless mind reached up to heaven, empty and dreaming. It wasn't that he was ignoring Rin or Sakura or Illya, so much as he seemed genuinely not to know that they were there – and that was what scared Illya the most.

"They were still connected when Archer used Gae Bolg – "

Rin nodded in fearful agreement. For all her yelling, she was scared too.

"Lancer said that he would be fine, but – I'm afraid that maybe that blow might have severed something –"

Shiro looked at Rin's outstretched arm. The red markings on the back of her left hand were still there, in the shape of a line pointing towards a circle. The outer rim was gone, dissolved from Archer's use of his noble phantasm, though he had tricked her, discharging it at a time and place of his own choosing.

"The sneaky bastard – " Rin murmured to herself.

The sight of her hand made Shiro cringe. The memory was still too fresh. Vainly he looked down at the back of his own hand, but there was nothing there.

"It didn't even leave a scar – " he whispered.

When the war had started, the lines were crisp and red. But as time went on – with everything that had happened, they'd grown dark, and indistinct. Even so, he'd have done almost anything to see them there again. The sight of his empty hand echoed the emptiness in his heart.

For a moment he was filled with the mad desire to take a pencil, and draw them on again, or better yet a knife, and engrave them into his flesh, so that they could never be removed.

"No – " he said, doing his best to resist. Closing his eyes, he fixed all his attention on the sensation of his fingers as they wrapped around his wrist. At the moment it seemed to be the only thing that still anchored him to this world. Suddenly, he looked up, as though he had remembered something.

"Shiro . . ?" Illya asked, seeing his face grow troubled.

All at once he leapt up.

"Shiro!" Illya called, startled by the way he threw off the covers.

He did not answer. Instead he clawed at the sliding door, as if he had forgotten how it worked, and then threw it open, and went running down the hall.

"SHIRO!" she called, by now in a panic. She followed him down the hall, just in time to watch as he tore open the outer door that led to the verandah and the courtyard beyond. In his haste he left it open, so that the cold air came billowing in, bringing with it a flurry of snowflakes, carried along by the late January wind.

"Shiro – " Illya called, still clinging to the door as she struggled with her shoes.

"What's got into that idiot!?" Rin demanded, running up after her. By now Shiro had run across the lawn, out over the stone pathway, to the old concrete shed that stood at the back.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" she demanded. When she got there, she found Shiro hastily taking things off of one of the metal shelves, piling them in the corner along the wall. For a moment he looked at them impatiently, and then, with uncharacteristic violence, he grabbed the shelves and threw them aside, dumping all of their contents.

"What they hell is going on!?" Rin demanded as she leapt back.

Shiro looked at her with wildness in his eyes, as if he had suddenly discovered something that should have been obvious.

"This is the Sixth Holy Grail War – "

"Yes, and?" Rin said, wading out into the mess as Illya looked on in horror. Of the two of them, she was clearly more used to managing his moods. Carefully she leaned over, resting her hands on an old wooden crate, then stepped down lightly, avoiding several empty spray cans that rolled away under foot.

Shiro lifted his left hand, then balled it up into a fist.

"I never summoned my Servant."

" . . . . ."

Rin froze.

There, on the back of his hand, was – something. The lines were blurry, and indistinct. It might have been nothing really, but to someone accustomed to the ways of the Holy Grail War, Rin recognized it instantly as a stigmata – the beginnings of a Command Seal.

"Here – " she said, taking the other side of the handle of a kerosene heater, which they carefully lifted, shuffling across to set it down in the opposite corner. Quickly, with Illya and Sakura's help, they moved several boxes, and a work bench. An old dusty mat had been spread along the shed's concrete floor. When Rin rolled it back, she was greeted by a familiar blue glow.

The lines were old, having been drawn with chalk ages ago, and the characters and markings were vague, but there could be no mistake. Illya gasped, recognizing the handwriting of her mother.

It was a magic circle.

Boldly Shiro stepped forth. Rolling up his sleeve, he revealed the glowing green lines of his magic circuit. Stretching out his arm, he closed his eyes.

The circle began to glow.

Rin's eyes went wide.

But there was no answer.

"Um –"

Vainly Shiro stared at the glowing circle before him.

"I – uh – summon thee forth – Saber!"

Rin cringed.

"SABER!" Shiro shouted, hoping it would help if he used more emphasis.

Rin pressed her palm to her forehead.

"REALLY – " she said, trying to reason out how one person could give her so much of a headache. "How on earth did you summon a Servant in the first place? And the most powerful of Servants – how the HELL were YOU even allowed to participate!?"

"I – uh – I don't know – she just kind of appeared – Lancer was trying to kill me, and – "

"If you think it would help I'd be happy to call him over and ask him to try again!"

"Hey!"

"At this rate I just might try and kill you myself! Really!"

Rin sighed. Stepping up to stand beside him she rolled up the sleeve of her red sweater.

"Let silver and steel be the essence – "

Shiro looked at her as she said the strange words. But as she spoke, the circle once again took on a faint glow.

" – Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation – don't look at me! You go and stand in the circle!"

Obediently he did as he was told. Suddenly he heard another voice behind him.

"Blue for the color I pay tribute to – "

Turning, he saw Illya, holding up her sleeve. The pale lines of her outstretched arm looked graceful and lovely. She looked at him with her crimson eyes, and nodded. Turning back, Shiro lowered his head and closed his eyes, repeating along after them.

" – the Three Forked Road from the Crown reaching to the Kingdom – "

" – my will shall become your body – "

" – and my Fate shall be your sword – "

" – if you will submit to this will and this reason – "

" – then answer – "

" – Answer – "

" – Answer."

Shiro finished the spell.

But still there was no reply.

"Shiro – "

"Damnit – "

"Shiro!"

"Damnit!"

"SHIRO!"

"DAMN IT!"

He shouted, falling to his knees, the sweat dripping off his face.

"I don't think this is going to work – "

"It has to work!"

"But it's been ten times – "

"IT HAS TO WORK!" he shouted again, punching the concrete with such force that he split his knuckles. At once the circle made a high pitched warbling sound. Several of the symbols activated, reacting to where the blood spilled into them. For a moment the outer ring began to turn. The interlocking rings rotated, then flipped like the panes of an eye doctor's glass, switching from one side to the other. But just as quickly, the sound died out again. After several more chirping noises, the glow faded. Nothing happened.

"It just . . . has to . . ."

Shiro looked guiltily at the red smear on the floor, then over at the troubled look on Rin and Illya's faces. Crawling forward, he knelt in the midst of the blue glow.

"Damnit Saber – why? Why the hell do you have to be SO DAMN STUBBORN!?"

He shouted, pounding the floor with the side of his fist.

For an answer, the circle began to glow again.

And then, before Rin could say or do anything, Shiro disappeared.

When Shiro opened his eyes, he found himself standing at the foot of a grassy hill. Everything around him was shrouded in mist. It gave the land a pale, silvery color, but the grass itself was verdant, impossibly green. The effect was one he had seen before. It was almost like –

"A Reality Marble . . ." he breathed, filled with recognition.

Up ahead, he could see a lake. Its face was as still as glass, with a wooden stairway that went right down to the edge of the water, then out over it onto a pier. At the end, a boat was lying at anchor.

"A ship . . ." he said. It seemed familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.

"A ship!" he shouted, remembering his dream. "Saber!"

He ran down the stairs, out along the dock, and climbed up into the boat. But when he got to it, there was no one there. The sails were all trimmed, being neatly tied up onto the cross spars of the mast, while the oars were withdrawn, stowed beside the benches that ran along each side.

He tried going below decks, and found the room where he had seen her before, but no one was there either, only an empty seat, painted white, with no hint of blood or any of the scene he had seen before.

Going back up, for a moment he stood on the wooden deck, listening to the sound of it creaking, and of the water sweeping by underneath him. But there was nothing to do, and so he decided to return to the island again.

The banks of the shore were forested with trees, rather thickly, coming right down to the water, but there was a path leading through them so he decided to follow it into the interior. As he went, he could see that the boughs of the trees were laden with apples, mostly red, though some of them had a yellowish color. He didn't think much of it at first, but as he looked closer, he could see that some of the branches had silver fruit mixed in, while what he thought was yellow was actually polished gold.

"What is this place . . ?"

For a while the path went on straight and level, with the trees running along on either side. However after several minutes, he was left with the impression that it had begun to climb. The mist was thick around him, so that he could see very little of what lay before or behind. By now the trees had disappeared, so that he had no landmarks, only the haze of fog on either side. But after several more minutes, he was sure that the path was steadily sloping up, and what's more, it had begun to bend.

"A hill – " he thought, following it up and around. "Hnff – this sure is steep!" Even with all that Hero of Justice training, he was beginning to feel winded.

The path went on, curving around in the opposite direction before bending again, slowly tightening, in the shape of a spiral. Reaching the other end, it bent again. This was beginning to look promising.

"Just one more pass", he thought, and surely he would come to the top. But suddenly, things made a rather sharp turn. Like the shape of a hairpin, the road bent back on itself. And what's worse, it started to go down.

"Huh?" Shiro wondered. "Maybe it's some sort of switchback to go around a steep place or something?"

But as he went, there could be no mistake. The path was clearly going down, and worse still, it was headed back, in the opposite direction.

"Did I make a wrong turn or something?"

Looking up towards the top, he thought about forsaking the track all together and seeing if he could just climb up over the side. But the slope here was especially steep. Even with the grass, there would not have been enough to hold onto. And so with a sigh, he resigned himself to following it wherever it went, and decided to keep on going.

Slowly the path made its way along the back side of the hill, travelling all the way around to the other side, sloping down steadily all the while, until it was nearly at ground level. Here it came to a small grassy landing. Looking over the side, Shiro felt at a loss. He was only about five feet off the ground now – he could have easily jumped down if he wanted to. Bending over to crouch, he put his hand on the grass, and thought about helping himself down and – then what? Should he go back to the beginning and start over again?

Just the thought made his heart sink.

"I guess there's nothing else for it", he said preparing to lower himself over the side. That was when he noticed something. When he looked at where the path lead down – it was very subtle, almost imperceptible – an uneven texture where the grass seemed to run in two different directions. It was very small – a narrow space just barely wide enough to put his foot on. But as he looked at the narrow wedge shape, he could clearly see the beginning of another ledge going up.

"Is this even a path at all?" Shiro wondered, leaning close to hug the damp grass. But as he went, it became clear. There, woven into the side of the hill was another pathway. It was very subtle and slight, but as he followed it, he made his way up and around, following the back of the hill, then coming down the other side. When it got to the front, it abruptly turned, doubling back, taking a course that was inside of the path he was on before. He hadn't been able to see it earlier because of the differences in elevation, but as he went, there could be no mistaking – he was clearly closer to the center, and higher off the ground than he had been before.

"Now we're getting somewhere!" Shiro said. No longer feeling winded, he began to run.

The path wound its way around, across the back of the hill again, once more turning like a hairpin, only this time towards the center.

"Just a few feet more – "

It bent around again, nearly cresting the top of the hill, before doubling back and –

Went back down the side of the hill.

"When I find whoever designed this thing, I am going to kick them in their damned shin!" Shiro shouted, to no one in particular. But he had seen this trick before, and so he decided that there was nothing else for it but to just keep going.

Maddeningly, but predictably, the path lead back around and down, weaving its way along the back of the hill, but this time at a much greater height, and with a much smaller radius.

"At least we didn't go too far."

Suddenly, when he reached the front again, it bent once more, this time the sharpest of all, nearly doubling back upon itself. Once more it began to climb. With guarded optimism, Shiro started to jog, panting as he followed it up, around the back of the hill once more. He was ready for anything, another turn or descent, a pitfall, or for the path to dead end and go right off the side of a cliff, but it just kept going, up and around, in a steady spiral. This time it bent back towards the front of the hill again, then turned once more, leading all the way up to the top.

When he reached the summit, he found it crowned with an old Church – a Cathedral. The building was very large, with arms stretching out in four directions, and a tall tower in its midst – so tall that it seemed to reach unto heaven, so that he wondered that he hadn't seen it from the ground.

"Maybe it's an effect of the mist", he thought to himself.

He half expected to find Father Kotomine waiting at the door, but there didn't seem to be any priest on duty. Indeed, all of the doors were shut, and tightly bolted. He made a survey of the perimeter – no small undertaking, given the size of the building, though nothing compared to the arduous climb it had taken to reach it – but all of the doors were locked. He even tried several of the windows, but they did not appear to open.

He was beginning to despair at the thought of walking all the way back down the hill again, when he spied a stone archway off to one side. It was small, at least when compared to the size of the rest of the building, being narrow enough to fit between the space of two of the buttresses, though in its own right still rather massive. It was pointed at the top, like an arch, its door being made of wooden planks fastened together by iron bands. When he tried the lock, he found it open.

Inside was a series of stairs, leading down.

The sight of the carved stone steps going down into the darkness did nothing to fill Shiro with confidence. But as he looked, his eyes began to adjust. It seemed he could see a faint grey light from somewhere within. But it was what he heard that concerned him the most. As he listened, he thought he could just make out the sound of a voice that sounded like it was weeping. A woman's voice.

"Saber?"

Shiro swallowed hard, then proceeded on, into the darkness. The stairs went down, in the shape of a squared spiral, moving in a counter clockwise direction. He followed them to the left, where they came to a landing, making a turn of some ninety degrees, before proceeding down again, which he followed to where they made another stop before turning once more.

By now the light of day had grown dark behind him, but the grey light he had seen before had grown brighter, becoming a silver glimmer. The voice he heard had grown louder, and he could now tell that it was not one voice but several, mixed together, though still vague and indistinct. As he turned the corner, the light grew brighter, and as he turned again, it became dazzling, giving way to a blinding brilliance.

Looking over the side, Shiro could see a large room below him. It was brightly lit, the whole of it being filled with a white light, so that he could not tell if he was indoors, or had somehow wandered outside again. In the middle of the floor was a wrought iron fence that enclosed a small yard. A stone slab was in its midst. And lying on top of it was Saber.

She was laying on her back, with the blue and gold blade of Excalibur rammed through her chest. Her hands were folded around the blade, in a gesture of offering. From the way they held it, Shiro could not say if they were trying to pull the blade out, or holding it in.

"Saber!" he shouted in a panic, leaping up on the rail that bounded the stairs, looking for some way down. As he searched to either side, he heard the voices again. Looking, he could see their owners.

In the courtyard were four women, each of them in medieval clothes. Their dresses were all different, though clearly each one was of a very ancient pattern, and also a different color. One wore a dress of all white, while another was dressed in silver. The third was clad in dusty grey, like twilight at the gloaming hour, while the fourth was dressed entirely in black. Each of them had their head covered by a veil, so that he could not see their faces, but as they spoke, he could each one's voice:

"There, there boy – "

"Best to leave her alone – "

"Just leave her be – "

"After all, you wouldn't want to disturb her, now –

"Would you?"

Shiro did not at all like their tone. There was something about the way their voices mixed together that made him uneasy. Vainly he looked for some way to reach her, and even thought of leaping, but the floor was some two to three stories beneath him. Reluctantly he pulled himself up, back over the side, giving her a last, longing look before plunging into the darkness again.

"Hold on Saber, I'm coming!"

This time Shiro did not hesitate. Vaulting, he took the stairs two and three at a time, using the handrail to steady himself as he leapt down. Turning a corner, he came to another landing, then turned again. By now, the light from the other room should have been visible again, but the stairs continued on in blackness. Not caring, he went on. Presently, he came to another landing. Once more, a grey light crept into the air. It brightened as he turned the corner, and when he turned again, he found himself standing in a wide, open space.

White light filled everything around him, so that for a moment he could not see, but when his eyes adjusted, he found himself standing at one end of a large room. The interior was laid out like a chapel, with white benches on either side organized into rows. A table stood at the far end, with clawed feet, each corner decorated with a block of gold carved in the shape of the head of a lion, so that its marble top appeared to rest on the backs of them. A canopy hung over it, coming down in sheer white gauze to conceal a grey figure that lay within.

At the left end of the table was a woman, dressed in black. She reminded Shiro of those weird sisters he had seen earlier, but less strange and foreboding looking. She was clothed in medieval garb, with a flowing skirt and long dagged sleeves that came down under each wrist to form a point. Around her shoulders was a short cape, with an attached hood of black velvet that was squared off across the top, and a veil of black crepe that covered the upper half of her face.

She was very beautiful, with blonde hair that was bobbed short, just off her shoulders, coming to beneath her chin, while her skin was the loveliest color, neither tan nor pale, but somewhere in between. She wore no jewelry, and needed none, for her hair was finer than any ornament of gold, while her green eyes sparkled like emeralds. When she looked at him, they pierced him, and he felt like he knew her somehow, though he could not say from where.

At the right side of the room was another woman, tending a vase of flowers. She was also very beautiful, though her beauty was of a decidedly different sort. Her hair was long and flowing, coming down in a series of beautiful brown tresses, mixed in with hints of a fiery red. The dress she wore was fitted close, both in the bodice and throughout the body, being cinched in the middle with a long belt tied around her waist. It was made of a combination of silk and satin, off white shadowed out to a silvery grey, so that it looked like she had just stepped out of a mist, and that some of the fog was still clinging to her, while the ripples of her skirt reminded him of waves.

As Shiro approached, the woman in black turned to greet him, making a small bow before gesturing to the table beside her.

"Would you like to see?"

Her question filled him with dread, but he felt he must not refuse. Gravely Shiro nodded.

Reaching out her hand, she drew back the curtain.

Shiro gasped.

There on the table was Saber. She was dressed in an outfit like the one she always wore, only instead of blue, everything was white – a white satin gown with a long skirt and puffed sleeves, together with a white bodice that gathered under her breast, held in place by a pair of silken cords where they fastened over a white linen chemise – all of it pure white, with golden trim.

Strewn around her on top of the marble bier were various flowers and petals of flowers. A garland was wreathed around her shoulders, while a train of them lay at her feet, and in her hands she held a bouquet of lilies and white roses, together with tiny sprigs of babies' breath.

" . . . . "

At the sight of her, Shiro gasped audibly, making the blonde woman touch her finger to her lips.

"Shh . . ." she cautioned. "She's sleeping . . ."

Shiro looked at her sadly, at a loss for what to do. He didn't have the heart to contradict her, and so he said nothing.

As the two of them stood watching, a man came into the room. He was also dressed all in black, with a black tunic, and black pants that were very wide and billowy, so that they looked likely to get caught in the wind, which evidently had already made a mess of his hair, for it hung down in long tendrils that teased about his face, along with a greyish black scarf that draped loosely about his shoulders.

"Ah! There you are my boy. You've kept us waiting – you're as bad as Her Highness in that respect – but oh well, you're here now, and I suppose that's what matters."

Shiro looked at the strange figure, unsure of how to reply. He was certain that he had seen him somewhere before, but where?"

"Tell me, did you like my maze?"

Shiro felt his eye twitch.

"Merlin?" he asked, his eyes filling with sudden recognition.

"The one and the same! At your and Her Ladyship's service –" he said with a bow.

"But how – You've grown young!?"

"Ah – that . . . It's one of the vagaries of being born backwards in time – You appear to get younger as time goes on. Very useful in matters of prophecy and predictions – it means you remember the future in the same way that most people remember the past – but it tends to play hell with your friendships and personal relations – but enough about me! We aren't here to talk about my problems, I'm here to help you with yours."

Shiro stared, finding himself more and more at a loss for what he should say or do. Merlin looked at the blonde figure who was standing near the head of the table.

"I can see that the two of you have already met – "

At this the woman curtsied gracefully.

"This is Morgana, Arturia's sister – the Fay", he added. Evidently the nickname pleased her, as she smiled rather mischievously.

"And this is Viviane – the Lady du Lac – "

And here the other woman with the white dress and fiery red hair also bowed, then curtsied with equal grace. Shiro had no idea how to respond to two such noble and regal personages showing him deference, and so, having no knowledge whatsoever of the manners in this country, he bowed very low, so that his eyes were towards the floor, and stammered,

"Pl – pleased to meet you!"

This elicited a small giggle from Viviane, who touched her fingers to her mouth, while Morgana smiled as she looked him up and down with a sharp gaze that made Shiro fear she might be about to eat him. But the Lady du Lac evidently had other matters of concern, for she turned to Merlin and whispered,

"I performed the spell, just as you said – just like you taught me – but it was already so late, I really don't know how well it will work – "

"Of COURSE it will work!" Merlin snapped. "YOU of all people ought to know how well it works – "

"I THOUGHT we'd agreed never to speak of that again!" Viviane retorted, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him in a manner that made Shiro look away in embarrassment. Evidently even wizards had their difficulties.

Morgana touched her fingers to Viviane's shoulder.

"Perhaps it's best if we take our leave – "

Reluctantly, the girl with red hair allowed herself to be led away, and then, after one last lingering look over her shoulder at Shiro, Morgana followed after her.

"What IS this place . . ?" Shiro asked, once they had gone.

"Avalon . . . " Merlin said. "The end of time."

"Avalon . . ." Shiro repeated, wondering if there was any significance to the fact that the place and the relic he carried both had the same name. "But – how did I get here?"

Merlin chuckled.

"All this time, you've been drawing circles on the ground, thinking you were the one that summoned her – did you ever stop to think it could be the other way around? That maybe she was the one that summoned you?"

"Summoned ME? But how could she – "

"Hmm – mmm – mmm – you're just as excitable as she is. I can see why the two of you get along. Though I must say I think the both of you are going to have a much longer road ahead than either she or I expected. 'Still, it warms my heart. I thought she ignored all my lessons. To think she actually paid attention, even if it was only this once – that circle was expertly drawn, and with her own blood too – "

Shiro stared at him in wonder.

" – But no matter", Merlin ended rather abruptly. "I think it's best if I leave the two of you alone", he added with a wink. And then, just like that, he was gone.

Shiro started forward, but it was no use. Just like that Merlin had disappeared, as if into thin air. He did not at all like his tone – much less that mention of magic circles drawn in blood, which seemed to give credence to everything he had ever heard about Wizards being rather shady characters. The way he had addressed his parting remark – it was almost as if he was leaving Shiro and Saber alone for a conjugal visit.

The idea was macabre.

"He's leaving me alone with a corpse!" Shiro thought.

But even as he thought it, his mind was filled with regret. His revulsion embarrassed him. After all, this wasn't a corpse –

"This is Saber . . ."

Shiro whispered. Though as he stared at her, she seemed to be looking less and less corpselike by the minute.

"She's so beautiful . . ."

There was no color in her cheeks. Instead they were pale, a pallid white, as stark as the satin of her dress. As he looked, Shiro could see that they had been dusted with powder, giving them a perfectly uniform, even appearance.

"In life, Saber never wore any kind of make up", he thought to himself.

Would she have liked something like this? He didn't know.

"And now I'll never get the chance to ask . . ."

Her lips were also white, as colorless as her skin, though surprisingly still very full. As he looked at them, they seemed to grow fuller, even richer and more luxurious, if that were possible, so that he found that he could not take his eyes off of them.

"Wait – was her mouth always open?"

Looking close, he could see that her lips were slightly parted, and that her bottom lip had the slightest hint of being pouted out.

"Is she breathing?"

He wondered as he leaned over her. No, there was no movement in her chest.

"Ohh . . ." he said. Sadness filled him again, along with embarrassment, as he suddenly realized just how close he was to her. Leaning over her like this, their faces were almost touching. He felt he ought to leave, that this was somehow indecent, but he simply could not pull away. To do so seemed like it would insult her, as if she somehow revolted him. After all, in life or in death, this was still Saber, and he could not bear to offend her, not in any way.

It seemed the only way to remedy things was to remain close to her. And possibly to touch her. Perhaps even to kiss –

"What am I saying!?"

Looking down, Saber's lips seemed lovelier than ever.

"So cold", he said sadly, feeling of her fingers where they wrapped around the bouquet.

Maybe just a quick kiss.

"On the forehead", he thought. "Or maybe the cheek – "

After all, did not subjects sometimes show loyalty to their monarch in this way? Shiro knelt, letting her body become his altar. He could not allow his loyalty to her to be questioned – not in any way.

"Sorry, Saber – " he whispered. He was filled with the notion that it would have to be her mouth, and nothing else, as nothing else could possibly do. "Oops – "

Had his hand bumped the pillow? Her head seemed slightly tilted back, making him notice the line of her chin.

"Illya's probably going to kill me for this – "

Slowly, he lowered his head down – down, feeling his face began to tingle as her lips drew near.

Suddenly the bouquet shifted, moving in her hands. A pair of arms reached up, wrapping powerfully around his head and neck. Opening his eyes, he found a matching pair of piercing green eyes staring back into his own. They closed for a moment, then opened, then half closed again, seeming to chide him somehow, but whether it was for his actions or his hesitation, he could not tell.

"Mmfh! Saber – "

For an answer she held him tightly, and would not let go, but instead kissed him harder. A disapproving look flitted beneath her eyelids, as if to tell him that he was being rude.

"Sorry", Shiro said, pulling back for a moment for a breath of air. And then he closed his eyes and kissed her full.

Suddenly Shiro found himself spilled over backwards, lying on the ground. The light of the magic circle surrounded him, filling the room with its glow. As he watched, a familiar figure emerged – as beautiful as she was majestic – the plaited crown of her golden hair on the back of her head, the translucent radiance of her dress, once blue, now white, the shining plates of her armor, the intricate joints of her gauntlets where they covered her hands as they gripped her sword – it had only been a year ago, and yet somehow it seemed like a lifetime. And yet at the same time, it all felt as familiar as yesterday.

From the middle of the circle, a voice boomed out.

"You who would dare to summon me! I ask you – "

The voice was bold as a lion, not haughty or rude, but filled with a confidence born of nobility and strength. And then it softened.

" – I ask you – am I worthy to be your Servant . . ?"

Shiro froze.

There was something in her tone so delicate. So vulnerable.

"Oh, Saber . . ."

Looking back, her eyes seemed to question him. Of all the thousand things he wanted to speak to her, what could he possibly say? At last his heart settled. There was only one answer he could possibly give.

"Yes . . . Yes! Of course YES!"

Their eyes met.

The majestic figure shook her blond head, then tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword, and struck the ground with its tip.

"Then I will ask again – You who would dare to summon me – Are you worthy to be my Master?"

Once more Shiro froze.

A thousand doubts filled his mind. What could he ever say to her? How could he ever count himself worthy? Of her? Of any of this?

In the corners of his mind, the fires of that night welled up, where they hissed and sizzled in the rain.

No. Shiro shook his head. In the end, there was only one answer. How could he not give her the very same thing he asked in return?

Holding his arms down at his sides, he balled his hands up into fists. And then he looked up, so that his eyes met hers.

"Yes!"

Saber smiled.

"Then hereby is the pact between us established – henceforth you shall be my Master, and I shall be your Servant!"

With that, the light of the magic circle settled, leaving Saber standing before him, just as she had always been. Her sword and her armor looked just as they had always looked, while slowly the white glow coming from her dress subsided, settling back to its old blue again.

"Ahh . . ." Shiro breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the world around him settle back into something like a kind of order, or what passed for it in the last few weeks at least.

That was when he felt a pair of red eyes very acutely focused upon him. They burned with an intensity that threatened to boil him alive.

"Illya, wait – why are you looking at me like tha – OHH – " Shiro said, seeing the magic thread of white hair that she held in her hand.

Saber cut her eyes to the side, suddenly finding something very interesting about the blank concrete wall of the storage shed.

"Look, Illya – I can explain – "

Illya held up her finger to cut him off with a wave.

"Just this once – JUST THIS ONCE – I can forgive you – " she said, before Shiro could make any more protests. And then she sprang on him and kissed him.

"Ack! Illya – I – "

"But if either of you EVER do anything like that again", she said, still wiping her mouth, "then I will personally kill BOTH OF YOU!"

Saber blushed guiltily as she shuddered. Evidently even lions could feel fear.

"Don't worry", Rin said, leaning in close and tilting her head to the side as she closed her eyes, giving them both her best fox eyed smile. "That's just her way of saying she missed you too."

Shiro quivered. Seeing Illya angry was one thing, but seeing Rin smile at them like that was downright terrifying.

"So!" she said, turning and clasping her hands behind her back. "What should our first order of business be?"

"Whew!"

Shiro sighed, grateful for the change of subject.

"Right", Saber answered, once again tapping her sword on the ground. "For our first order of business, we will defeat Assassin – "

Shiro's voice froze in his throat.

At once, he was taken back to that night in the forest, with the fire in the snow, his vision still hazy from the crash, with the roaring of the flames, and the sight of her as she disappeared before him.

"Saber – I – "

Saber looked at him gently.

"You have to trust me Shiro – "

"I know – and I do, but – "

"You've already touched my heart. No one else has ever touched it before. And no one else ever will – "

"I believe you – it's just – "

"Listen to me", she said, taking his face in her hands. "When you summoned me before, you summoned Saber who died on a hill at Camlann. But I am Saber of Avalon – and I know how to defeat Angra Mainyu."