...My upraised sword falls to the ground.
Assassin's cursed arm did not reach me.
My sword has cut the cursed arm before it could gouge out the reflected image of my heart.
No matter how cornered I may be, Assassin's Noble Phantasm is not enough to kill me.
No.
As I've blocked Lancer's lance, which reverses cause and effect, I cannot allow myself to be defeated by this cursed arm.
"Ah—guh..."
But that is my last act of resis—No.
I have put the power to escape into the attack.
I have no power to esc—I said no.
The ominous presence now emanates from within mysel—That is quite enough.
...
This is what defeated her?
Truly?
Why, 'tis paltry.
Compared to the Crystal, compared to that bloody hill, this... 'Shadow' is nothing. A mild discomfort. A bad shiver.
How offensive, to be defeated by something best described as a nuisance.
I am Artoria. She is the tyrant.
Unlike her, I have no regrets.
There are only mistakes to be learned from and corrected.
This is one of them.
True Assassin fades.
Tch.
I quite dislike this dream.
Are we done here?
The landscape fractures.
Can I see Saber now?
The tendrils evaporate.
"You alright?"
Muscles unwound with his voice. Artoria pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders. Puffy clouds hung in the morning sky.
"Aye."
"What did you see?"
"The eighth day."
...
Saber didn't reply. She shuffled closer to where he sat, pushed her shoulder against his.
"Rather, I saw part of it. Up until the Shadow captured her. Then I fought it off and awoke."
He frowned. "Fought it off?"
"'Twas nothing compared to that being we fought, the one inside the arena. A simple matter. I pushed it away and decided I had suffered enough."
Saber leaned his head against the tree trunk. A rueful smile danced upon his lips.
"I... don't think it's that easy. Maybe you were lucid dreaming?"
"Lucid dreaming?"
"When you know you're dreaming, but stay asleep. The realization grants you control over what happens."
Artoria tilted her head. "But they are memories, Saber, no? It is more than just a dream."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"Huh?"
Saber watched the clouds overhead.
"I see all my lives that way, too. More as a series of long, vivid dreams, than something that actually happened. When I became whole, it felt like I'd finally woken up from a nap. Out of all of them, I remember the summoning the best."
"The day you summoned her, you mean?"
"Yeah. Her hair in the moonlight. Her eyes, her face..."
"Was that the memory you spoke of? The one you had as Archer?"
His smile meant 'yes'.
...
"Um..." Concentration wrinkled her nose. "For what it is worth, that is her most stable memory after the... incident."
Saber's gaze was cool warmth on her skin.
"All that time, she remembered your face," Artoria continued. "That meeting in the... the shed? She tried to provoke you into making a mistake. Into giving her a reason to kill you. She did not want the Shadow to take you, too. The thought was unbearable."
"Hmph. That's just like her, really. She always put others first."
"Was she the one you seek, Saber?"
"No."
As suspected. Nothing was ever simple. Well, perhaps that was for the best. After all, the tyrant...
"How many versions did you know?" she asked.
He barked out a laugh.
"More than you or I could count, but the vast majority were just minor variations of three core versions. The Saber in black armor, Alter - she was one. The second fought alongside myself and a close friend until the end of the war. That ending branches, actually. In one world she leaves us on good terms. In the other..."
He trailed off. Artoria blinked.
"Saber?"
"N-Nevermind. Anyway, it's the third one I want to find. She's the last person I need to save. I want to see her again. You know, for closure."
Artoria huffed. "And they all look like me, aye?"
"Yep."
"Gods, 'tis so confusing! Are there any differences I can use? What if I start seeing their memories, too? How can I tell them apart?"
...
"Hairstyle differences."
...
"Surely you jest?"
"Nope. It's affected you too, you know."
"E-Eh?!"
Saber flicked her ahoge. "Alter didn't have that."
She shooed his hands away, blushing. "I-I have no control over it! Saber!"
"Yes, yes. The second Saber kept her bun for the war's entirety. My Saber, the one I'm trying to find - in the final days, her bun had a habit of unraveling. Don't ask me why."
Her head ached. But - no, for his sake, for her Saber, the man called Shirou, she would bear this weight and confusion. She would reunite him with the woman he sought.
Shirou over anyone else. Arthur could save the kingdom.
Saber shrugged. "So! If you look down and see black armor, you're Alter. If you see blue and silver, check to see if your hair's in a bun. If it's not, you're seeing my Saber's memories. If you're confused, just ask me when you wake up. I'll help you out."
Aye, timeout. Pause!
"I have a question!"
"Go ahead."
"Did any of them use the ponytail?"
"That one, specifically? Nope. See? Hairstyle differences."
Artoria slumped against his shoulder and heaved a relieved sigh.
"Thank the heavens!"
Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-03 ["Unlimited Blade Works"]
Twig: 03.12 ["Brilliant Years" - TRUE]
Year: 2014
Location: London
The Clock Tower
Lord El Melloi considered his counterpart's words.
"You're the last person who needs to hear this, but... I'm concerned about the ramifications."
The smell of tea did nothing to alleviate the room's tension.
"As would be anyone with a modicum of rationality. I'm sure you're aware of our lack of options."
The two men attempted to ignore the sinister presence in the far corner's shadow. It'd been following Velvet for the past three weeks.
Reminiscent of a Servant. Had the same signature.
Wore a red cloak.
"Has this afflicted..." Velvet sighed, paused. "...others?"
"It has, yes. Whether the situation escalates depends on that world's stability. In one parallel to yours, for example, where the Grail interfered in the War, the Guardians have already detonated Fuyuki's leyline. Precautionary measure."
An ominous chill brushed Velvet's spine. He swallowed.
"I see. Is this world at risk for pruning?"
"If it was, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
…
"What do you need me to do?"
...
"How familiar are you with the Atlas superweapons?"
"I know there are seven, and I know they're under lock and key. I assume I'm to attempt their retrieval?"
"We only need one in particular."
The man placed a file on the table. Velvet flicked through the contents. With each sentence read, his scowl deepened.
"Ah, I've heard of this. The risk for self-harm is..."
"You needn't worry about such a thing."
"I understand. I assume you have business elsewhere?"
Zeltretch sipped his tea. Velvet didn't like the stiffness in his posture.
"I will get its wielder."
"Forgive my insolence, but, this weapon - someone has used it?"
"Correct. And before you ask: neither the Association nor the Church know of him. He is confined to a single reality."
"Which one?"
The magician surveilled the nameless Counter Guardian. It wasn't threatening El Melloi, he realized.
"Hell."
It was protecting him.
"Saber? May I ask you a personal question?"
"Hm?"
"That girl, the one with purple hair - did she...?"
"Survive?"
"A-Aye."
They trekked through familiar woods now. An hour from Camelot, thereabouts.
"She did," he responded. "I freed her the same way you saved Alter."
"With the dagger?"
"Yeah. After that, one of two things happens. You've seen that part, right?"
"I have. I suppose my question pertains more to what happens... after? Yes, after."
"We... well, it wasn't easy. We all had our demons. It took some time to work things out, but we healed enough to live happily, I think."
Artoria pushed a bit harder. "Did you love her?"
"I did. I loved her more than life itself. Still do."
She ignored her fluttering jealousy. "Then if you were happy, why..."
"Am I searching for Saber?"
Her silence spoke volumes. Saber sighed, as though it pained him to think about it.
"Obviously, at the time, each of my shards fell for someone different. That's one of the key variables, actually - who I fall in love with. Remember that second Master we talked about? The one with the crazy high prana capacity?"
"Yes?"
"We had a thing, too."
Not a fluttering, but a tsunami. Yes, a tsunami of jealousy. Harder to ignore.
"I... I see..."
"But originally, it's always Saber."
Just like that, it vanished. "Originally?"
"The divergences in the timelines happen at a later point. The summoning is always the same. Every time, the moment I see her, it's..."
Saber trailed off. Artoria pieced it together, and found the results unacceptable.
"You get happy endings with anyone else, yet never manage to save her."
"Yeah. As I am now, it feels like I have one big dysfunctional family. Things are fine, but an important member is still missing. I have a hunch I've been following for a while now, but I just can't seem to figure it out. It's like an impossibly hard puzzle."
"I'm not sure I understand."
He shook his head, smiling. "I can't tell you, sorry. It's a big hint."
Artoria nearly tripped over a rock. "Saber! How unfair! Now I am curious!"
"When we get to Camelot, I'll make you a big lunch as an apology. How's that sound?"
"Absolutely n—"
...
He turned away.
"F-Fine!" she sulked. "Just this once!"
Betrayed by her own stomach.
The closer they ventured to Glevum, the stranger Arthur Emiya behaved. It began with him scanning the horizon for minutes at a time. Soon after, they caught him sniffing the air. And now he wouldn't relax. Constantly they observed him looking off in the sunset's direction, jaw tensed, fists clenched, as if paranoid of some unknown foe yet to be detected.
Lancelot's curiosity was palpable. "Is something the matter, Arthur?"
"'Tis hard to explain. There is a magical residue nearby, born from a relic's presence."
"What kind of relic?"
"A sword."
Gawain frowned. "The Sword in the Stone?"
"Nay. With this one I am keenly familiar. It should not be here. Its wielder has yet to be chosen."
"Is this residue close by?"
"Aye. Close to the sword we seek, in fact. This way."
He urged his horse to a gallop, and the two others followed. They bounded across the open field and up a hill blocking their line of sight.
Emiya crested first; his disposition worsened. Shock claimed him, and with a muttered curse he leaped from his horse and charged down the hill.
"Emiya!" Gawain called.
The spellcaster dashed to a scorched section of the field, his speed impossible for anyone not proficient in the arcane ways. Gawain and Lancelot followed on their steeds. Emiya fell to his knees in the area's center; his hands ran through the singed grass.
The hair on Gawain's neck stood on end, as if he'd rubbed across a wool blanket one too many times. Lancelot took a hesitant breath.
"What is this, Emiya? Witchcraft?"
Emiya licked at dry lips. He lifted his head in a panic.
"Excalibur."
Gawain's horse trotted in a circle. His head swiveled. "The relic's name, I assume?"
"The holiest of swords. A weapon of the Fae. Its usage here means... Gawain, Lancelot! We must check the sword! Come!"
Energy swirled about his calves. He shot off, arrow-like, and the two men again gave chase. They followed their compatriot to the top of a second hill, on the other side of which rested the Sword in the Stone.
"Not yet drawn," Gawain breathed. "Thank the gods. We've come before the heir."
"Nay. They have been here."
Emiya's rebuttal stunned them. His eyes honed in on the prophetic blade, and the faintest traces still circling the surroundings.
"Aye, he's right. Look." Lancelot pointed to various parts of the field. Signs of battle hid amid the frost and snow. "The ground there has been upturned. Something was thrown there, as well. Perhaps a projectile? Heavy enough to score the ground."
Gawain's scowl deepened. "I see it now. Emiya, are you sure 'twas the wizard and the heir?"
"Yes, with one correction."
"And that is?"
...
For the first time since their meeting, Emiya lost his composure. His face contorted, his fists clenched by his sides. From him a river of sorrow bled.
Fate/ess
"The wizard... is not Merlin."
Fragments - 3
"The heir has summoned a Servant."
IRONY
"Gods damn it! Argh!"
Another failure. Medraut threw the fractured helmet in the corner.
For the past week, she'd tried to replicate Saber's helmet, to little success. The diagrams Pelleas provided only helped so much; she'd begun to wonder if he forgot some sort of detail, an overlooked cornerstone of the design. She needed to see the thing in person. She learned with her hands, not her eyes.
"Still no luck, Med?"
"Shut it!"
Kay rolled his eyes and entered the shop proper. He took stock of the myriad attempts.
"What sort of trouble art thou having?"
"All of it! 'Tis all trouble, Kay! The way it curves, the way it forms to the chin, the pieces protecting his eyes and face - impossible! Can't be done! The iron won't allow it!"
She huffed and puffed and vented it all away. Kay bore it like a champion.
"Would you like to ask him?"
...
"Eh?"
The man grinned. "They just walked through the gates. If you run, perhaps you'll catch them before my father whisks them away."
"Moooooove it! Outta my way!"
The fiery blonde charged past him and into the town proper. Kay followed, suppressing a chortle. The townsfolk parted at the sight of her; all knew to give the smith's eldest her space during one of her tantrums, lest they receive a verbal tirade rivaling the drunkest sailor.
"ARTORIAAAAAAA!"
A golden flash ducked into an alley. Medraut noticed, and lunged. She dragged the other girl out by the elbow and, gripping her shoulders, pinned her up against the building's wall.
"Where is he?!"
Artoria cowered, blinking owlishly. "Where is who? What happened? I didn't do anything this time, I swear!"
Medraut shook her. "Your damnable metal man! Where is the metal man?!"
"S-Saber?"
"Yes, Saber!"
Gulping, Artoria just pointed to the side, to a red haired foreigner staring at them like a doe caught in a trap. Medraut's face scrunched up.
"Hah...?"
"Saber! Put on the armor! Quickly now, else she'll chase me with a hammer!"
The poor man looked beyond lost. His head twisted from one girl to the other.
"Wh-What... how... but..."
"Saber!" Artoria stressed.
Rushing wind followed a spark of light. Medraut blinked away the stars; a suit of armor covered the man head to toe. She sputtered, her frustration white hot.
"No wonder! The insufferable thing's witchcraft! Blasted Pelleas, I'll gut him like a fish!"
"Can someone please explain what's going on?!" the Servant pleaded.
Kay chose that moment for introductions. None of this phased him, and Saber couldn't understand why.
"Saber, Medraut. She's the eldest of Lamorak, the town's smith. Medraut, Saber. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to report to my father."
Exit Kay, stage left. Saber watched him go, utterly betrayed.
"Gimme your helmet, metal man!"
"Why?!"
"I beseech thee! Do as she says!" Artoria wailed. "She'll tell a lie to father dearest and I'll have to sweep their shop for a month!"
Medraut's hand covered the girl's mouth. Artoria cried her muffled dramatics into the palm.
Please.
"This is so cool!"
Someone, please. Alaya. Tohsaka. Anyone.
"Thou art like a child playing with their first dagger."
He was so confused.
"Sh-Shut up!"
Why in the literal, actual, genuine fuck...
"He's my Saber, Meddy-poo," Artoria gloated. "I can play with the helmet whenever I want."
"Ngh...!"
...was Mordred alive?
Why was her name different? Why was her father different? Why was her father not Artoria or Arthur?
"Wait a moment... don't tell me you've been trying to make it, Meddy-poo. What would your father say if he saw all that scrap metal lying around?"
He had such a headache. Please.
"I said shut up, you eternal maiden!"
Why were they talking to each other?! Saber never acknowledged Mordred!
"A-Ah! Thou darest assail thy king?! 'Tis treason! Saber, look! The vile wench mutinies against the throne!"
He didn't understand!
"Ha! He's not helping you! That means he's on my side!"
"S-Saber?!"
He just wanted to understand!
Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-XX
Twig: [Unknown]
Year: 20XX
Location: Classified
Chaldea Security Organization
Analysis complete.
Signature matches detected.
Listing:
Archer - EMIYA
Archer - EMIYA (Alter)
Saber - Muramasa
Mash gasped. "That's where they went!"
WORLD 1-00.01 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-00.02 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-00.03 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-00.04 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-00.05 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-00.06 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-00.07 - Shirou Emiya
"What is this?" Ritsuka muttered.
"Fujimaru, listen well. There are things you must know."
Chaldea's Master turned to Gilgamesh.
The King of Heroes was deadly serious.
WORLD 1-04.23 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-04.24 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-04.25 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 1-04.26 - Shirou Emiya
"You know of Faker's ability, do you not? His Reality Marble?"
Faker. Copier. Projection magic. He should've realized sooner.
"I do. He can project Noble Phantasms."
"Its power scales with knowledge and prana capacity. The more that man sees, the stronger he becomes. It is one of the few thaumaturgies with no upward limit. Each reality may contain a host of unique Noble Phantasms. Do you understand, Fujimaru?"
"I understand."
WORLD 2-23.38 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-23.39 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-23.40 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-23.41 - Shirou Emiya
"To that end, suppose that each of Faker's shards, as shown here, see five unique Noble Phantasms across their lives. Individually, he is a weakling. He is pathetic. But taken as a whole, Fujimaru, how many Noble Phantasms can he utilize at this time?"
WORLD 2-54.13 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-54.14 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-54.15 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-54.16 - Shirou Emiya
"Roughly twenty-seven thousand and increasing, my liege."
"Do you understand the Counter Force's abominable creature, Fujimaru?"
"I do."
"Describe him."
Ritsuka was a statue.
"The Throne in human form."
"If it has summoned him like this, it means the World is afraid, Fujimaru," Gilgamesh explained. "The Faker as he is now is the closest a creature can come to a Heroic Spirit, a Counter Guardian with his armory's racks filled. But for all his power, he is feeble. Frail. Unstable. He cannot handle the threat humanity's subconscious places before him. We must act. You must act. How will you do so, Fujimaru?"
The young man nodded to da Vinci. She tapped away at the console.
In the facility's depths, the summoning arrays activated.
"With the Throne, King Gilgamesh."
"Master," Bedivere urged, "We are concerned for our king."
"I know, Bedivere. There's little we can—"
"She will act recklessly."
Bedivere wasn't one to cut someone off. Ritsuka let him continue.
"From what little she told us of her ventures under Alaya's employ, she knew that man for a time. They were close. We fear she shall attempt contact."
Ritsuka tensed. "But if our assumptions are correct, his Master is..."
"That world's Artoria Pendragon, aye. Supposing we've properly assessed their relationship, he will protect her with his life. An impasse will be reached."
"You're afraid your king won't convince him."
Bedivere's metal hand clenched. It pained him to admit it.
"We are."
...
This situation's severity far exceeded the Lostbelts.
"Sir Bedivere, if I may: in her life, how much prana did your king have? What was her capacity?"
Gawain stepped forward to answer instead. A single bead of sweat dripped down his temple.
"Functionally infinite."
...
"Under her, between their two capacities, his Reality Marble could be maintained indefinitely, senpai."
Ritsuka met Mash's eye. Her look told him all he needed to know.
She couldn't defend against that.
"Is there anything else you can tell me, King Gilgamesh?"
The King of Heroes watched the screen, arms crossed.
"In his current form, that mongrel is quite similar to the pet rat your mistress carries - the one called Cath Palug. He won't yet have all his memories, else he would go mad from grief. The last time this happened, he required time to adjust. Pah! Even like this, Faker is still a child. He requires a key to... unlock, as it were."
"And what is this key?"
"Why, the crystallization of his legend, of course. The source of that infernal Reality Marble."
WORLD 2-99.22 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-99.23 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-99.24 - Shirou Emiya
WORLD 2-99.25 - Shirou Emiya
"His Noble Phantasm."
Less a smithy, more the aftermath of a tornado. Bits and pieces of dirty scrap metal hung about the shop; in the corner rested a trio of poorly made mockeries. Saber pitied Medraut. She'd done her best given the resources and techniques of the time, but wrought iron couldn't handle a sixteenth century helmet's intricacies.
Far, far too brittle.
Artoria clucked her tongue. "My, my."
"Like you could do any better," Medraut sulked. "B-Besides! Just a pet project! Figured I could make Kay a new helmet or something!"
Saber scratched his cheek.
"Would you like me to show you how it's made?"
Medraut straightened and turned away. "I... I mean..."
"That means 'aye'," Artoria whispered.
"H-Hey!"
Saber ignored their constant quibbling. "Have you heard of steel, Medraut?"
The smith's daughter froze. "Steel...? I have, yeah, but the stupid Imperials never shared the details. My old man's been tryin' to figure it out for years."
It made sense. The Romans loathed anything 'barbarian'. State secrets and all that, though they themselves learned of steel from outside parties.
"The fire's not hot enough. That's all."
Medraut's jaw dropped. "The... the fire? But how do we get it hotter?"
"Trap the heat. You have a large clay jar or something similar?"
"Y-Yeah, I think so. Lemme go look."
Medraut trotted from the room. Artoria rolled her eyes, but grinned nonetheless.
"You're going to get her all worked up, Saber."
Saber's pushed one of the replicas into the furnace. A remarkably stupid feat - one a Servant could ignore. The flames coiled around his gauntlet, yet it came away unmarred.
"That's good, isn't it? We don't know how long this journey will take."
She connected the dots. "You're helping us protect ourselves?"
"I'm here for your safety, Artoria. Not theirs. I'm required to stay by your side. I don't know if Cornwall will attack Camelot again. The last thing I want is for us to return to ash and rubble."
"Will the armor really make that much of a difference?"
"In my world it's outdated, but here? Absolutely. Following the proper course of history, men won't be able to make my suit for a thousand years."
"A thousand?! Y-You mean the fifteen hundreds? That's when it's from?"
"Yeah."
Artoria leaned against the counter. She exhaled exasperation itself.
"No wonder she can't make it! Always getting ahead of herself. Unbelievable."
"Oi. I heard that, bitch."
Medraut stalked in, pot in hand. She flashed Artoria a snide, teasing glare.
"I'm not gonna make you anythiiiiiing~!"
The other girl tilted her nose up.
"Hmph! As if I'd accept it! You'd probably sabotage it!"
"Ooo, that's a good idea," Medraut muttered. She handed Saber the pot. "Perhaps I'll weaken the breastplate, make it crack right down the middle..." Then she spun about, and leveled an accusatory finger in the other blonde's direction. "...and expose that chest you're always gloating about!"
Artoria wrapped her arms about herself; her cheeks burned.
"H-H-Huh?!"
"You heard me! Fatty!"
"How uncouth! You're such a brute, Medraut! He's right there!"
Medraut smirked. "Oho? The eternal maiden? Smitten, eh? Go eighteen years without holdin' a man's hand, and—"
She ducked, narrowly avoiding Artoria's thrown piece of scrap.
"Says the girl admiring my brother, too bashful to—"
Clang. Clang.
Their mudslinging disrupted, the rivals turned to find Saber shaping molten metal. Sweat dampened his brow, and armor, sans gauntlets, had vanished to the ether. The cessation of their bickering passed him by, so intense was his focus, and after judging his progress, he spent a moment to dry his forehead with his tunic's hem.
Doing so revealed his abdominals.
...
Instinct whispered in Medraut's ear. She checked on Artoria.
Artoria, whose jaw was on the floor. Face beet red, the girl shook from head to toe.
That, Saber noticed. He turned to them.
"Hm? What's up?"
Medraut pushed the stunned girl out the door.
"Nothing, nothing! We'll return shortly, aye?"
Saber shrugged, and returned to work. The door shut.
Medraut whirled on her once they were out of earshot.
"The hell, Toria? I was just teasing! You really do have a thing for this guy, dontcha!"
Artoria buried her face in her hands. "He's Prince Charming made flesh! Everything about him is just...! What do I do?"
"What do you do? Artoria! You found this guy in... what was it? That old scroll?"
Artoria nodded. She blushed harder.
"From a scroll!" Medraut espoused. "Like some old fairy tale! You gotta claim him! He's your knight, mark your territory before some wench comes along and swoops him up!"
"I can't!"
"Hah? Why not?"
"'Tis complicated!"
"Complicated how? Use your words, ya tramp!"
Artoria grabbed Medraut's shoulders, desperate.
"He's already taken! He's looking for his lady, Med! I can't just... just put myself betwixt them! What would my father say?!"
Medraut whistled. "He looks our age, though."
"He is!"
"Someone nabbed him that quick, huh?"
"Why would they not! He's one in a million, Med! No boy in Camelot compares!"
The other girl gave her a strange look.
"You're talkin' about him like he's your soul mate. Wizard or not, he's still just a man, yeah?"
Artoria pulled her tunic's collar over her face and screamed into the fabric.
"What is a Servant?"
"A magical familiar bound to a magus, a Master. They are creatures from the realm outside ours, far beyond the powers of mortal men. Only the strongest of wizards can contend against them."
"Oh, marvelous," Gawain griped. "We face an abomination."
"In their lives they were men and women," Emiya corrected. "Doers of great deeds outlived by their heroics. We are... lucky, however. The magical signature is faded, but I would recognize it in my sleep."
"Truly? Who is it?"
The spellcaster considered his words.
"My best friend. I have not seen him in years."
Lancelot frowned. "If you know him personally, is he...?"
"I do not know. 'Tis possible, though I surely hope not."
The news roiled Gawain. He spit upon the ground.
"The spawn's crimes grow ever more severe. His blood is cursed, and now he forces a slave into his service through forbidden means. To partake in necromancy! I assure you Emiya, we shall give him his earned rest."
"What is his name?" Lancelot asked.
A third option. She needed a third option, for under no heinous circumstance could she bear to fight against her Master and her closest friend. Nor could she turn against her treasured knights.
In her naivety, in her ignorance, she once more made a mistake. She trapped herself, just like all those years ago.
Why had she not realized sooner?
"Saber! One day, someone will appear who will free you!"
Quoted by Alter. Spoken by Archer.
And Archer was...
"I am Shirou Emiya's ideal self."
The simple reality struck her more fiercely than any Noble Phantasm. Saber's carefully constructed acceptance began to unravel.
"If I do this... if I do this, I will be restored. We will be restored! We will see him again! The truth that was denied to us! That is what she promised me!"
Three signatures mixed together, in this strange sword's grisly field. That gulch, carved by Kanshou. A clash between Bakuya and the blackened Excalibur.
The sword had not been drawn. Alter gave up. They left. He'd convinced Artoria - convinced his Master that she didn't need it.
The truth she was denied.
"It's not a mistake!"
He understood. He understood, and... and...!
She gave him to Rin! She lived with her answer! Ate with her answer! And gave him away!
This world's Artoria Pendragon used Kanshou and Bakuya, not the Sword in the Stone!
Freed from her horrid fate! Rescued from misery's precipice! From Merlin's good intentions, and a foolish girl's decision!
Despondency choked her soul.
"His name..."
It should've been her!
"...is Shirou."
She. Clang. Was. Clang. Cute. Clang.
Damn it all. His biggest weakness: Saber's blushes.
He checked her progress; just an excuse to stare at her some more. Mordred helped him smith, Artoria cleaned the shop.
Embarrassment's embodiment refused to meet his eye. The heat on her cheeks spread from ear to ear.
The guilt was unbearable. Its poison disrupted his concentration, a mire of which he could not be rid. He'd tried so hard to not lead her on. To them this world was foreign; that did not give him the right to interject in Artoria's personal life and disrupt the things yet to be. He sought Saber. He'd loved and lived with Tohsaka and Sakura. Who was to say Artoria would not find someone else?
...
But...
Tch. They tortured themselves.
His hammer worked mindlessly at her breastplate's repairs. He saw the irony. Remake Caliburn, rebuild her armor...
...
Restore her memories...
He'd like to hope for that possibility. Every night she lived Alter's life. Alter, who he'd finally saved. Who she had finally saved. Just as he'd convinced Archer - convinced himself - so had Artoria found a way to bring Alter back from the brink.
But the blackened king was one thing. Saber was quite another. Was he okay with that? Was it alright?
If the possibility existed, would he allow them to merge together, into one person? What if she started absorbing Saber's memories before they reunited? What if his summoning was their wanted reunion, and neither of them yet realized? Could that happen? How did it all work? Was there a process? It wasn't like she'd been thrown into an arena outside time and space and told to fight her other shards to the death, after all.
Shirou had a great many questions. He wanted to see her again. Objective number one. The singular goal driving him forward.
He needed to see Saber. So they could reminisce, and so they could talk. So he could sort through his mind's chaos. So he could ask her opinion.
Because in all his lives, one thing stayed exactly the same. No matter the path he ultimately chose, no matter the woman he emotionally and mentally fell for...
"We have enough for two. The second will be a prototype you can study and tinker with, Medraut. It'll be fit for battle, just in case. I'll give you notes on how to create the steel. Is that alright?"
"Hell yeah, metal man!"
He nodded. "Artoria?"
"H-Huh? A-Aye!"
In terms purely physical, when placed in a vacuum cut from all, with a mindset free of outside influences or experiences...
"We're moving to the next stage, soon. Is this design acceptable?"
...his choice, ten out of ten times, was Saber. Not Saber the king, but Saber the girl. Artoria Pendragon. She with the head of gold, she with the firm voice and chiseled emerald eyes.
...
"Wow," she breathed.
And this Artoria was that Artoria.
"Saber - this design, it looks like..."
The trio stood over the molten parts, made of Wootz crucible steel. Taken together they normally took days, if not weeks to make; with his magic and experience bypassing many of the requirements, he reduced it to mere hours. Shirou noted with pride the ethereal carbide bands woven through the silver metal.
Components of a classic design. Built with his influence, not the Grail's.
"Made in honor, I guess. With some needed modifications."
Flecks of gold came and went through Artoria's irises. All smiles, the girl was.
"I love it."
Saber Alter's cuirass.
Confusion Corner
We're (whiplash) almost (whiplash) there (whiplash)
We have six more chapters until the constant switching calms down. You're doing well, keep it up!
Waver doesn't have much of a part to play in this fanfic specifically - his scene here, and one he gets later on, are more like previews for a side project I continue to slooooowly slog through in my free time. Pay attention to the date marked in the italics, as well as the specific route he's in. It may give you some clues as to what that side story's about. If you don't know - don't worry about it! Seriously, it's not that important.
Believe it or not, there isn't much to talk about in this Confusion Corner! A bit of a breather before things get super long again.