"My... my twin brother?"
"Yes. The future king of Britannia, and rightful heir to the throne. He who has been chosen to wield that sword. Arthur Pendragon."
That name again...
Arthur.
I look at Saber.
At Shirou.
"My king! There has been a coup! Sir Mordred has—"
His name is Shirou.
"This is wrong! Absolutely wrong...! I – I have accepted my own death! But this... I cannot accept!"
It is the only thing I care to remember from the tumultuous, fragmented memories.
Saber is Shirou.
Shirou is Saber.
My Saber.
I see bits and pieces of a life once lived.
None of it matters.
The first gap is filled.
The first question is answered.
But it is not enough.
Because I know his name, and nothing more.
'Twas all she learned.
'Twas as far as she got.
I have not yet earned the right to speak it.
For us both, myself and that tyrant, for our closure...
"I ask of you."
...I must know more.
"Are you my Master?"
I push it all away. Right now, I need to be present.
I can deal with these memories later.
"S-Saber, your Saber, isn't she...?"
His stare extends to the distant beyond.
"'The one timeline in which I don't exist'. That's what my lord told me before I was sent here. If Arthur isn't a woman, I'm not present. In every other world, you're Arthur."
So my alternate self, that blackened king, did not know.
What emotions should I be feeling in this moment?
Relief? Concern? Confusion?
They all mix together into a murky swamp of uncertainty.
"Arthur, a woman?"
Merlin taps her chin.
"A humorous joke. I'll be sure to tell him."
Saber grunts.
"It gets better."
"Oh?"
"You are supposed to be a man."
Merlin lifts a thin eyebrow.
'Tis her only reaction.
By now, I am well aware that my bond with Saber extends beyond my own life here.
One of his shards summoned that alternative Artoria as his Servant.
And here, in this life, I summoned him.
Our connection holds strong, even when I am removed from the prophecy.
That one thought fills me with grand warmth.
No matter what happens, Saber and I will always have each other.
"Then, in all those other lives, my brother...?"
He shakes his head.
The confusion on his face is plain as day.
"You don't have one, Artoria. Your half siblings are women. You don't have a full-blooded brother."
Something strange has occurred.
That much is certain.
But until I know it is a problem, I shall treat it as a positive.
Change can be good or bad.
What matters is how one reacts to it.
"Arthur - is he okay?"
The wizard seems caught off guard.
'Tis as if she expected me to ask something else.
Then she smiles, and inclines her head.
"Arthur is fine. On the day you were born, I took him to the Reverse Side of the World. I told him of thee and thy Saber last week. He's pestered me to arrange a meeting ever since. He wishes very much to meet his sister."
While she talks, I move closer to Saber.
The blasted swords still jut from his body.
I grab one protruding from his left tricep, and give it a tug.
"Artoria," he grunts, "you don't need to—"
"Be quiet. Merlin? Do you know of the man who brought me to my father, Sir Ector? The man with silver hair?"
Saber tenses.
Of course he would. I am no fool.
During our duel, the tyrant gave me my answers.
That man she fought after Saber summoned her, the one with Kanshou and Bakuya...
Merlin gives Saber a knowing look.
"The Archer said he would see me again in some years' time."
An annoyed sigh leaks from Saber's lips.
The wizard lacks the full story.
I find myself offended by her assumptions.
He is more than just Archer!
"Saber," I correct.
"I beg thy pardon?"
He said he preferred Saber as a name.
Though I wish to learn more of the man called Shirou, I shall also respect his wishes.
Others should respect them, too.
I peek around his shoulder and wag my finger.
"Sei-bah! The Archer is but one part of the whole! That whole is Saber!"
The admonishment complete, I return to coaxing the sword from his arm.
It seems attached to the bone, almost.
'I am the bone of my sword', he said.
I did not think it literal!
"I'm telling you, it doesn't hurt," he whispers to me.
"They'll either fall out on their own or dissolve back into my body."
I reach up and ruffle his hair.
He rolls his eyes, and returns his attention to Merlin.
"And did Archer say he'd forget such a meeting?"
"That man did acknowledge his fleeting memories."
The sword at last exits his tricep.
Relief swells in my heart.
I move to the next - one lodged in his forearm.
The implications behind Saber's words annoy me.
"Saber, did you not have any memories as Archer?"
His lips tighten into a line.
"I had one. I'll tell you later."
'Tis private, then. I nod.
"Merlin," he continues.
"Are we to meet Arthur in the Reverse Side?"
That location, again.
I know not of what they speak.
How can the world have a reverse side?
It makes little sense.
"It would be preferable," Merlin responds.
"He does not feel ready to draw the sword, and I hesitate to let him walk the countryside while Britain burns."
"Have you told him of Cornwall's hunt?"
"I've told him enough."
Ah, yes, of course.
It would not be witchcraft without deceit and truth's obscuration.
Saber, too, seems annoyed by her answer.
He turns to me in askance.
I already know his question.
"I want to meet him."
Nodding, Saber faces Merlin.
"I'll agree, on one condition."
"Hoh?"
His eyes narrow, his jaw sets.
'Tis a dangerous look.
I ignore my heart's somersault.
"Stay away from Artoria. Don't involve her in Arthur's prophecy. You've used her as bait long enough. Her choices are her own, and if she wishes to walk away after we meet him, you will let her. Understand?"
I ignore my heart's three additional somersaults.
Merlin laughs, and waves him off.
A flower petal peels off her body.
She's... dissolving...
"Of course, Archer. I've no business with your ward. I do this for Arthur's sake, nothing more."
"Good. Where are we going?"
Her left arm is gone.
Her legs and waist vanish into the wind.
The petals float away from her shoulder.
"To an island between the lands of the Picts and Gaels. There the entrance lies at the highest point, its form that of a tower. I shall meet you upon your arrival. Please, do not rush. We've time yet."
Saber straightens.
Something catches his interest.
"This tower - what is its name?"
Fate/ess
The wizard Merlin broke apart.
Her disembodied voice drifted to their ears.
Fragments - 2
"Rhongomyniad."
LE MORTE D'ARTHUR
They survived.
Nay, not just survived. They won. The Saxons outnumbered them and caught them by surprise, yet his men emerged unscathed.
Whispers abounded of that lone mercenary's deeds, and Agravain wanted an audience. He was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth; whatever abilities that young man demonstrated would be used henceforth. He knew of the wizards, those foul practitioners, but for one to walk among his men?
A tool he could use. An additional dagger in his boot. One sharpened and ready for use.
"The lad should be arriving shortly, milord. Lord Gawain has just entered camp, as well."
Agravain reclined in the wooden chair, crossed his arms.
"Send for him."
The captain bowed. "At once."
Splendid timing. He'd want to hear of this.
While he waited, Agravain occupied himself with the parchments for the siege. Merlin's presence threw horse manure in their path, so they'd brought more men. Was it enough? He knew not. If the surviving soldiers spoke true, the witch fought with sword and arrow. Perhaps her witchcraft manipulated sharpness or durability? Perhaps her enchanted blades could cut through iron?
Many possibilities. Few solutions.
Hrm.
Some in the army had, during their march, taken note of the mercenary's latent quirks. He did nothing to hide them, this Arthur Emiya. 'Twas an interesting mindset. And while Agravain had before been content to pay it no mind, the aid that man rendered in the battle proved far too intriguing to ignore. For better or worse, he'd become a potential asset. One Agravain meant to understand and utilize.
A guard leaned through the tent flap. "Milord, the mercenary has come."
He straightened, and stoned his features. "Send him in."
"Aye."
The fellow entered a moment later. He stood at attention.
"You called for me, milord?"
Agravain took stock of the lad. In a word: androgynous. Had he not known better, the noble would've mistaken the young man for a woman. But he held an air about him, a weight beyond his years. His posture was a man's, calm and assured, and despite his outwardly appearance, Agravain recognized the steel behind his eyes. This Emiya was a warrior, trained as such. More than a mere sellsword.
"I did. You are Arthur Emiya, aye?"
"I am, sir."
"Good. We await one more."
Emiya nodded. The silence did not last long. A minute passed, if that, before a burly arm parted the tent's entrance.
"What news, brother?"
"Hmph. Not even a greeting, Gawain?" Agravain's dark eyes snapped to the stranger who followed Gawain inside. "Who's that?"
"The one I picked. Good with a sword. We've a mercenary here already, what's one more?"
"His name?"
Gawain nodded to the man.
"Lancelot, milord," the stranger introduced.
Agravain gestured to Emiya in turn.
"Arthur Emiya," he spoke. "Hired in service of Sir Agravain, Duke Gorlois, and the Cornwall territories."
Agravain liked him already. He had a good head on his shoulders. In that case, better to cut the pleasantries.
"And resident practitioner of witchcraft, I assume? A wizard?"
Emiya didn't so much as flinch. He'd expected such remarks, it seemed.
"A user, yes. A wizard, no."
Gawain cocked a brow. "Is there a difference?"
"Aye. Wizards have their own codes they follow. My family is trained in the use of witchcraft, but we are not wizards. I see the eldritch the same way you see a sword. 'Tis a tool to be used, nothing more."
Agravain rested his arm on the table. "Is that why you use it freely, without prejudice?"
The lad nodded. "I am not beholden to secrecy. My abilities are my own. I use them as needed."
Gawain met Agravain's eye.
"Have you heard of these Emiyas, Agravain?"
"Nay. Tell me, Emiya - do all members of your family have blonde hair?"
He shook his head. "'Tis one of two colors, the other being red. I hail from the mainland, to the east. Ours is a small clan, scattered to the wind and seas. You might consider us arcane mercenaries, spellswords for hire."
"And your family holds no relation to the Pendragon line?" Gawain inquired.
Emiya took it all in stride.
"Truthfully, milord, I traveled here out of curiosity for the legend. The sword's story smelled of magic. Besides that, I knew nothing of the details, or of the Pendragons. I learned their name and ignoble history upon my arrival."
Agravain mulled over the mercenary's answer. Nothing in his body's language hinted of deceit. He looked them in the eye, his posture did not shift or stiffen. He showed no unease. No sweat dampened his brow.
Gawain reached the same conclusions. He looked to Lancelot for his opinion.
"He tells the truth," he replied.
Agravain stroked his chin. "Very well. Remove thy helmet."
Emiya pulled off the Roman antique; long blonde bangs fell to frame his face. A thick, braided bun secured his hair.
'Twas not every day Agravain thought a man 'beautiful', but here, it was the only word applicable. Not 'handsome' or 'charming' or 'noble', but 'beautiful'. Were the lad a woman, his suitors would be legion. Alas. Naught but a trap.
"We have need of your skills, Emiya, if you would oblige."
"I am under your employ," he answered. "I need only details and orders."
Gawain waved the two mercenaries closer to the table. He rolled out a sketched map of Britain.
"Thanks to your efforts, Emiya, Agravain's army has retained much of its manpower, and Gaheris' forces are fresh. Our plan can proceed as anticipated. We are here."
He pointed to the island's rough middle, below and right of the nearby channel.
"Our target is here."
Gawain's finger drifted to the channel's other side, past the inlet and the city of Caerwent. He tapped a marked X by one of the rivers.
"'Tis the knight Ector's land, the town of Camelot. We believe him the guardian of Uther's spawn. The heir is under a wizard's protection - Merlin, the old court magician."
Emiya frowned. "I mean no disrespect, milord, but are you sure the wizard is Merlin?"
"'Tis the only possibility, aye, and the survivors of the first siege noted a wizard using swords. Are you familiar?"
"Not personally, but I know the name, as would anyone with knowledge of the arts. Merlin is a legend, powerful beyond all recognition. Your armies would suffer innumerable losses. I would not be able to protect them."
Agravain scowled. "Powerful in what ways? Do you know?"
"Clairvoyance, or so the rumors state. The ability to see the future."
Gawain blinked, then slumped. "See the... future...? So this wizard will know we're..."
"Where is the Sword in the Stone located?" Lancelot asked.
Agravain pointed to the town of Glevum, at the main channel's inmost point.
"In a field outside this town, nearby that jousting arena."
Lancelot's hard gaze roamed the map.
"'Tis on the way. If the prophecy holds true, the heir will need to draw the sword, will he not? And as far as we know, 'tis not yet been retrieved."
Gawain looked to Emiya. "How quickly can Merlin travel?"
He exhaled in thought. "Alone? I dare guess faster than the wind. But not with the heir. I know of no spells allowing such."
Agravain eyed the distances. "Should this map be accurate and the terrain favorable, both the armies and Camelot are equidistant to Glevum, thereabouts."
Gawain nodded. "May I borrow your man?"
"Aye."
"Then Emiya, Lancelot and I shall travel by horse to the sword. There we shall make camp and post lookout, and await the army. Once Agravain, Gaheris and Gareth arrive, we'll debate our next course. Gods willing, the wizard's foresight shan't beat our steeds."
Agravain grunted his approval. "Can you protect two from the wizard, Emiya?"
"Difficult, but easier than defending an army, certainly. I shall do my utmost, milord."
"Good. Then until we meet at Glevum, you are under my brother's command. By your leave, Gawain."
The blonde lord huffed, looked between the two mercenaries.
"Gather your things. We requisition the quartermaster, and depart in an hour."
Lancelot and Emiya nodded, their faces solemn. They followed Gawain outside.
Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-XX
Twig: [Unknown]
Date: 20XX
Location: Classified
Chaldea Security Organization
Good news: they'd located King Arthur's Saint Graph, and could track her progress.
"PLEASE STOP CALLING ME THAT, MY KING! I BESEECH THEE!"
Bad news: they found some of the knights, too.
...
Well.
"A mercenary... a sellsword... a dishonorable churl..."
'Knights'.
"Oh my gods, oh my gods, pff-bahahahahaaaaaa! Look at what she's wearing! Lookin' good, Father! Reeeeal classy!"
Some were taking it better than others.
Mash rubbed Lancelot's shoulder, concerned. The knight's hair shadowed his eyes. His muttering continued.
"A mercenary... a sellsword... a dishonorable churl... a mercenary... a sellsword..."
"YOU ARE NOT 'MILORD', GAWAIN! DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE THY KING?!"
Ritsuka tried to ignore Gawain's waterworks.
"Has that signature reappeared yet, da Vinci?"
She shook her head, frowning. "The strange Excalibur release removed it. I can't seem to locate the Phantasm, either. After the expenditure it just... disappears."
"We can't track whatever used it?"
"No. A Grand-class signature momentarily appeared in the same location, but vanished with Excalibur. SHEBA's analysis links it with Alaya's Monster, but... I don't see how that's possible..."
Ritsuka sighed. "Then we'll have to wait until Artoria—"
The distinct gnawing of a handsaw against a tree trunk cut him off. He turned to the source.
...
Enkidu was quite exasperated. "G-Gil, it's alright..."
The sound of Gilgamesh's teeth grinding together.
"A Grand Faker?! DIVINE CONSTRUCTS?!"
"They're fine, Kay."
Tristan's reassurances rebounded off the man's grim aura. The rest of them sighed.
"Kay, truly, come now," Bedivere tried. "'Tis not like we can help them."
"I should've gone with them," Kay muttered.
Palamedes scoffed. "You saw the way Saber caught her blade. We would be naught but a hindrance."
His gloom magnified. "They could be dead."
"Hoh-kay!" Bors grouched. He grabbed the man's wrist. "'Tis quite enough. Come along, ya ragged piglet. We're goin' to the smithy."
...
A wry grin curled Tristan's lips. He and Bedivere shared a knowing look.
"Hoho, the smithy, aye?"
Bors harrumphed. "That lass'll beat some right sense into him!"
"She and Artoria hate each other, Bors," Palamedes argued.
"Aye! But Kay's not Artoria!"
They marched Kay out of the central plaza and to the walls, just shy of the barracks and training fields. Charcoal rode winter's breeze; the clang of metal grew louder.
The old tanner's son ran the smithy, with the help of his two daughters. A family of blondes, all of them.
Across the centuries of the Arthurian mythos there are three known versions of the kingslayer. First and most infamous is the son, the bastard child, born of incest and adultery. Should one venture into earlier legends, they would find the nephew; not a bastard, not born of infidelity, but no less treacherous and conniving.
Both of these men - Arthur's child and King Lot's son - are called Mordred. Synonymous with betrayal. A heavy name, a legendary name, married to the concept of patricide.
But the third is different.
Three names are whispered within one of the eldest of the Arthurian tales, the Annales Cambriae.
The first is the wizard, Merlin.
The second is the king, Arthur.
The third...
"MEDRAUT! HE'S SULKIN' AGAIN!"
...is the warrior, Medraut.
A young girl, no older than eight or nine, poked her head up from behind the counter.
"Hi guys!"
Bors waved. "Morgan, where's yer sis?"
"Ah! She's in the back! Lemme get 'er!"
The kid dropped into the shop. Her voice echoed.
"Hey! Dumbass! Yer friends're here!"
"That one new?" Bedivere whispered.
"Nay," Tristan replied. "Newest is 'cowbreath'. 'Dumbass' started six months ago."
"Ah, my mistake."
"We should keep a list, methinks."
Something clanged and clattered inside the smithy.
"Agh! Ouch! Sonuva-blasted piece o'-"
Of Medraut, little is known. His participation and death in Camlann's strife is noted. But not how it happened, nor his allegiances, nor his relationship, if any, to the king. The Annales do not mark him a traitor, or an usurper. He is described as a man of honor and dignity. An esteemed warrior, and nothing more.
A girl Artoria's age stumbled to the front. She dropped her elbow onto the counter, and rested her cheek on her palm. A frustrated moan bubbled from her throat.
"Yo."
Her voice drew Kay from his gloom and doom. "You alright?"
She grunted. "Stubbed my toe."
"Ouch."
"Yeah... what's up?"
Bors shoved him closer. "He's sulking, girl. Make 'im stop, 'tis annoying."
She gave Kay the stink eye. "What'd that bitch do this time?"
The two girls could pass as twins. For quite a while, Camelot's townsfolk thought it the truth. Artoria'd been kidnapped, the rumor went, and it wasn't until her origins became commonplace that the assumptions stopped. Their odd similarity, it turned out, was just a blue-moon coincidence - one that built both a friendship and a rivalry.
And oh, what a rivalry it was.
"She went to destroy the sword," Kay drawled.
"What, alone? Is she stupid? She's totally stupid."
Bedivere shrugged. "Went with Saber."
In another time and place, this story played out differently. The same people. Altered experiences. Changed results.
"The metal man! I've heard rumors! Gods, she should've brought him around!"
Kay grinned. "He can summon weapons, Med. Creates them out of nothing. Sounds interesting, aye?"
Medraut's jaw dropped. "S-Seriously?"
"Swear on my knighthood. He could arm a legion."
No matter their gender, no matter the legend, the two souls are linked. Where one goes, the other follows. But with her rival's severing, the once-homunculus, too, was cast aside. Tandem souls, wayward, thrown into a new reality with a fresh start.
"That's. So. Cool. Gods above, I'm gonna strangle her. She knew! Agh, that fuckin' tramp, I'll kill her! I'll make her draw it myself! 'Haha! You're king now, loser!' That'll show her!"
In this life, for better or worse, their fates passed them by.
"M-Medraut, I'm b-back."
A new voice joined the choir. Pelleas inclined his head to the group, and approached the smithy. He held a small piece of parchment.
Stars twinkled in Medraut's eyes. "That the design, Pelleas?!"
"B-Best I could do f-from memory. 'Tis a bit r-rough."
"That's fine, that's fiiiine! Give it!"
Unfurling it revealed a messy series of sketches - diagrams of an object viewed from both the front and the side.
The group leaned over the counter. Bedivere hummed his recognition.
"Is that not...?"
Pelleas nodded. "S-Saber's helmet, aye."
Palamedes cocked a brow. "You know how it works, Pelleas?"
"I've spent a w-week on it. Made the i-initial drawing after that guard sh-shift. Ywain helped too. I-I... ah... m-may have asked S-Saber if he w-was... ah... a person..."
Tristan bit back his laugh. Pelleas rubbed his neck, sheepish.
"So the lad took offense and showed ya his face?" Bors grunted.
The guard pointed to the helmet's front, where it flared out like a boat's prow.
"These t-two parts here - he f-flipped 'em up. They m-move, aye? And his face w-was underneath. Think he s-sees outta these slits h-here. 'Tis all connected to some sorta pivot or axle, like how a wheel r-rotates on a cart. But I know n-not how he m-made 'em outta metal, or how he got 'em that s-small."
Kay stared at Medraut.
"What are you planning, Med?"
To be Mordred was to be a kingslayer. A traitor. A rebel. But Artoria was no longer King Arthur.
The young woman hefted her smith's hammer and cackled.
"I'm gonna make it!"
And she was no longer Mordred.
"I must admit, Saber, that I am terribly confused."
"For what it's worth, I am too."
'Tis a Roman spatha.
The Sword in the Stone, I mean.
I compare it again to the sword Saber leans against, the one he calls Caliburn.
Their appearances differ greatly.
His is a decorated longsword, a noble instrument, and the mere sight of it fills me with a sense of wistful purpose.
With such a tool by my side, I feel as though I could end this chaos.
I could unite all of Britain under a just cause and noble purpose.
But that idealism comes from a glimpse.
When my gaze lengthens, I see that hill of blood and blade.
The one upon which the tyrant cried.
Gods, 'tis frustrating. How should I refer to her?
She cannot be called 'Arthur'. That name belongs to my brother.
...
My brother...
"What did you mean, Saber? When you said I have no brother by blood?"
Saber pauses for a length.
His amber eyes haven't left the spatha.
"Don't tell Arthur any of this, Artoria. It'd just confuse him. The explanation's moot, anyway, but it's the only one I have."
I frown.
"I dislike keeping secrets from family."
His fingers flex around my Caliburn's pommel.
"I... wouldn't call him family. He's you - if you were a man. Your existences fulfill the same purpose. Your souls are identical."
Ah. So he is another version.
"He's like your blackened Saber, then?"
"Correct, and that's why I'm confused. Both you and he are naturally in the same timeline, which shouldn't be possible. Alternative versions can meet only if one invades another's world. Even if you are the human and he is the king, in the end..."
Saber trails off. I understand what he's saying.
One of us should not be alive.
Everyone has a purpose they must fulfill. Overlap is not needed.
If Arthur is me and I am Arthur, and if Arthur is this world's chosen king...
I probe the spatha. I attempt to learn its secrets.
It tells me nothing.
Unlike Caliburn, this sword is silent.
'Tis not mine, and I should not exist.
I am an enigma.
Saber mentioned this is the one world devoid of his fragments.
If Arthur Pendragon is not a woman...
We're connected.
So...
"Why are we here?"
My question is genuine, without malice or grief.
I simply do not understand.
"I don't know."
And neither does he.
We are wanderers.
In a way, 'tis refreshing.
The tyrant spoke with a purpose self-assured.
Her intent was true, her conviction ironclad.
Never had I known such things. Not until I found Saber.
Perhaps that is why I so quickly have grown attached to him.
He reminds me of who I once was.
"..."
I step forward. My heart begins to race.
Just to confirm.
For naught else than to prove I've not lived a dream.
Saber does not call out. He makes no attempts to stop me.
He watches.
My right hand curls around the spatha's hilt.
The aged leather is cold to the touch.
I swallow.
"...!"
It does not move.
My breath traps in my throat.
I hear my heartbeat in my ears.
I try once more.
"Hn...!"
It does not move.
Something within me panics, aghast.
It cries out.
It wails and mourns for its stolen destiny.
What can I do?
Where can I go?
I am lost.
All my life I have run from this.
Yet here and now, having confronted the truth, I feel no relief.
Aimlessly I sway in chaos' clutches.
What do I make of myself?
How do I decide?
"Once."
I jolt.
Saber's voice is right behind me.
He eases my hand off the spatha's hilt.
My fingers tremble.
"O-Once?"
I hate my voice's fragility.
'Tis as if I shall fall apart, like Merlin before me.
Saber pushes Caliburn's tip into the earth.
He guides my hand to its hilt.
Its warmth is immediate.
I feel my soul thaw.
"Once," he repeats.
"I get it now. Caliburn broke apart. But it was whole once."
Ah, I see it.
Three duels, in which I...
His free hand rests on my shoulder.
I push my back into his chest.
My breath comes easier.
The Caliburn he owns is only a memory.
But that memory is here.
Just like us.
He has it. I exist.
"The once and future king."
He's speaking in parables again.
"Eh?"
"One of King Arthur's many titles. It's said he'll return after a departure. You and Arthur... maybe you're the two halves."
I...
I am not now.
I shall never be.
But I...
"I was..."
"...once the king," he finishes.
"A king before a woman. That's how she described herself."
I like that.
I am fine with that.
"A woman who once was king."
Caliburn disappears with my words.
Its memory is with me. With Saber.
He is my memories. 'Tis as I suspected.
The plan remains the same.
Through him, I shall learn.
He separates from me, and starts to walk away.
I take one last look at the Sword in the Stone.
'Tis fine, I tell myself.
I can help others without it.
"Hey, come on. We've a lot of preparing to do."
Saber calls to me.
His hand rests on his hip.
He tilts his head, eyes closed, and smiles.
Just like before.
Yes, just like before.
"Let's go home, Saber."
A million and one voices resound in my soul.
So many times. Across so many lives.
Even without the sword, I am still his—
I fight back my tears.
My legs move on their own.
"Yes!"
Crimson eyes opened. Merlin stretched.
To the horizons the ethereal expanse stretched; she wasn't interested. Her focus rested solely on this lake's other inhabitant.
...
Well, that depended on one's definition of 'inhabitant'.
"Ha—!"
An intense spar - expected, of course. That man did not do anything in half measures. The full effort, always, and mercy be to the Phantasmal creature who tried convincing him otherwise.
'My kingdom expects no less! I am not here to relax!'
Such was his mindset. It impressed Merlin, though she wished he'd calm down at least once in a while. So much training!
"They've received thy message, my king."
As she called out, the young man toppled the golem and leveled his sword at its lodestone. His intense expression dissolved into a smile.
"Well fought as always, guardian. I thank you."
Said creature nodded its reply and meandered off into the woods. His attention shifted without a moment's delay.
"And their response, Merlin? Is my sister well?"
To his credit, the news of his familial relations did not impact his training or studies. If anything, it was the opposite. He delved into his lessons and spars with a vigor never before seen.
Which said something, given his personality.
"She is. Her knight is ever faithful. She looks just—"
He held up a hand.
"If I may, I do not wish to know. Our meeting should be genuine. I've never met a human, after all. The less I know of her beforehand, the better."
She felt the beginnings of a grin. Of course, of course.
He leaned his sword against a tree, and turned his gaze to the sparkling lake. Above them, the moon shone bright. Stars filled the sky.
"If that is what pleases you..."
Golden hair twisted in the breeze.
"...Arthur."
Confusion Corner
whiplaaaaaaash
Remember: if italics are prefacing the scene, it's outside of Fateless' timeline. If there aren't italics, it's within Fateless' timeline. This is another one of those annoying chapters where we get alternative versions of the same character back to back. Sorry!
so important it's in the story proper (LENGTH WARNING)
alright alright alright so MORDRED
how in the fuckin hell is best tomboy in this story, i hear you ask
Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to talk about mythological lineages. Brace yourselves, this is where things get a bit crazy. If you need a recap before this section, refer to the following earlier Confusion Corner entries:
Chapter 2: Also, Kansas fucking SUCKS no offense to kansas im sure kansas is great
Chapter 6: Isca Dumfuckingwhat?
Ready? Are you sure? alright lets fuckin gooooooo
As previously stated: Duke Gorlois is a Dumnonii in control of territories down in Cornwall. In actual Arthurian lore (and in Fate, too), Uther Pendragon kills Duke Gorlois in order to marry and bed his wife, Lady Igraine, and that union produces Arthur Pendragon. Immediately after, in order to completely destroy Gorlois' political legacy, Uther sells off Gorlois' three daughters to various Pendragon vassals, in exchange for their loyalty to the crown.
The three Gorlois-Igraine daughters are:
- Elaine of Garlot: marries King Nentres, with whom she has a son, Galeschin, who later joins the Round Table.
- Morgause: marries King Lot, with whom she has: Gawain, Agravain, Gaheris, Gareth. Spies on Arthur, seduces him in his bedroom: conceives Mordred.
- Morgan le Fay: marries KING URIEN, with whom she has Ywain. Merlin's apprentice.
Dear readers, especially those of you familiar with Fate!Morgan's character, I ask you this: does Morgan confuse you? Does she make little sense? Are her motives strange and seemingly incoherent?
that's because they thanos snapped gawain's mommy
Fate!Morgan is an eldritch anomaly because she is a fusion of two characters with different motivations and different character arcs. This is exactly the same thing as someone writing a Fate/stay night fanfic and systematically deleting all traces of Sakura Matou, and giving her entire story to Rin Tohsaka, while still having Rin Tohsaka also go through Rin Tohsaka's story. Morgause and Morgan are sisters! Morgan isn't Gawain's mother, she's his fucking aunt!
Here! Look! Just look! Read dammit, READ! Read Morgan's Wikipedia entry!
In Arthurian legend, Morgan le Fay (/ˈmɔːrɡən lə ˈfeɪ/, meaning "Morgan the Fairy"), alternatively known as Morgan[n]a, Morgain[a/e], Morg[a]ne, Morgant[e], Morge[i]n, and Morgue[in] among other names and spellings (Welsh: Morgên y Dylwythen Deg, Cornish: Morgen an Spyrys), is a powerful enchantress. Early appearances of Morgan do not elaborate her character beyond her role as a goddess, a fay, a witch, or a sorceress, generally benevolent and related to King Arthur as his magical saviour and protector. Her prominence increased as legends developed over time, as did her moral ambivalence, and in some texts there is an evolutionary transformation of her to an antagonist, particularly as portrayed in cyclical prose such as the Lancelot-Grail and the Post-Vulgate Cycle. A significant aspect in many of Morgan's medieval and later iterations is the unpredictable duality of her nature, with potential for both good and evil.
Her character may have stemmed from Welsh mythology as well as from other ancient myths and historical figures. The earliest documented account, by Geoffrey of Monmouth in Vita Merlini (written c. 1150) refers to Morgan in conjunction with the Isle of Apples (Avalon) - where Arthur was carried after being fatally wounded in the Battle of Camlann. There, and in the early chivalric romances by Chrétien de Troyes (fl. c. 1160–1191) and others, Morgan's chief role is that of a great healer. Authors of the late 12th century establish her as Arthur's supernatural elder sister.
Okay, REAL quick, before we continue with this, let's divert to Fate!Morgan's character materials to look at how this has influenced Nasu's writing. Here's Morgan's translated Bond 2 line from FGO:
In Proper Human History, she was the daughter of Tintagel, birthed by Igraine, the Child of Faeries from the British Isles... Later, she & Artoria became proper sisters (Morgan's mother, Igraine, married King Uther).
In the end, Artoria is but a human king, created by the humans.
Morgan, aware that she was the true king inheriting the Mysteries of the British Isles, eventually came to hate her father King Uther, her sister Artoria, & humans who disobeyed her. Morgan played a major role in the collapse of Britain.
In Proper Human History, she gave birth to many children and produced Knights of the Round Table.
Gawain, Gaheris, Gareth, & Agravain are the children of Morgan & King Orkney. Mordred is a homunculus created for the sake of defeating Artoria using Artoria's blood and spirit.
So clearly we can see the influences for making Morgan Artoria's full blooded sister. That isn't a strange concept. But there's a big problem here: that last line is fucking WROOOOOOOOONG! Back to Wikipedia!
In the 13th-century, Robert de Boron-derived Arthurian prose cycles – and the works based on them in turn, including among them Thomas Malory's influential Le Morte d'Arthur – Morgan is usually described as the youngest daughter of Arthur's mother, Igraine, and of her first husband, Gorlois. Arthur, son of Igraine and Uther, is thus Morgan's half-brother; the Queen of Orkney is one of Morgan's sisters and Mordred's mother. Morgan unhappily marries Urien, with whom she has a son, Yvain. She becomes an apprentice of Merlin, and a capricious and vindictive adversary of some knights of the Round Table, all the while harbouring a special hatred for Arthur's wife Guinevere. In this tradition, she is also sexually active and even predatory, taking numerous lovers that may include Merlin and Accolon, with an unrequited love for Lancelot. In some variants, including in the popular retelling by Malory, Morgan is the greatest enemy of Arthur, scheming to usurp his throne and indirectly becoming an instrument of his death; however, she eventually reconciles with Arthur, retaining her original role of taking him on his final journey to Avalon.
Who, then, is the Queen of Orkney? Who is Gawain's ACTUAL mother? More Wikipedia! (im so sorry for all the wikipedia)
The Queen of Orkney, today best known as Morgause /mɔːrˈɡeɪz/ and also known as Morgawse and other spellings and names, is a character in later Arthurian traditions. In some versions of the legend, including the seminal text Le Morte d'Arthur, she is the mother of Gawain and Mordred, both key players in the story of King Arthur and his downfall. Mordred is the offspring of Arthur's accidental incest with Morgause, the king's estranged half-sister.[Notes 1] She is furthermore a sister of Morgan le Fay and the wife of King Lot of Orkney, as well as the mother of Gareth, Agravain, and Gaheris, the last of whom murders her.
...
Fate!Morgan is so confusing because Nasu tried to combine three different mythological Morgan interpretations, plus an entirely separate character, into one person.
Now how in the world does this relate back to Mordred and her presence in Fateless? Alright, you remember that mentioned blood feud between Lot's family and Pellinore's family? Do you remember who the sons listed on both sides are? Here, lemme copy paste from Chapter 2 for you:
1) King Lot's family: these are the Orkneys (Gawain, Agravain, etc.) and various characters hailing from Cornwall, such as King Mark (Tristan's uncle).
2) King Pellinore's family: Pellinore's the one who broke Caliburn via three duels against Arthur, and they later become fast friends and staunch allies. Many of his sons join the Round Table as Arthur's knights - these include Percival, Lamorak, Aglovale, etc. - but then Pellinore kills Lot in battle, which sparks the blood feud between the two families.
Now, keep in mind: Morgause MARRIED King Lot. She enters Arthur's court as a spy for King Lot during his rebellion against the Pendragon throne; that's why she seduces Arthur in his bed chambers. Neither Arthur nor Morgause knew at the time that they were half-siblings and that the act was incest. That forbidden act produces Mordred, who is thusly raised as one of Lot's sons.
And now here's where things get fucking spicy:
Nevertheless, Morgause has an affair with Sir Lamorak, a son of Pellinore and one of Arthur's best knights. One time, Lancelot and Bleoberis find Lamorak and Meleagant fighting over which queen is more beautiful, Morgause or Guinevere. Eventually, her son Gaheris discovers them in flagrante at castle Rethename. Enraged, he grabs Morgause by her hair and swiftly beheads her, but spares her unarmed lover (who is left naked in bed covered in her blood, and is killed later by four Orkney brothers in an unequal fight). Gaheris is consequently banished from court of Arthur (though he reappears later in the narrative, eventually being slain by Lancelot).
I was dead serious when I called the Arthurian legends "Game of Thrones: Bitches in Lakes Edition" btw. The blood feud is accelerated by Lot's widow sleeping with one of Pellinore's sons.
So we've established that Morgause is Mordred's mother.
Well, in Fateless, Medraut's father isn't Lot or Arthur, it's Lamorak.
so yeah that's how you get best tomboy into the story while making her the same age as artoria and also not a homunculus haha lol i did it for the funny memes