Special author's note:
For just this chapter, in certain, specific scene changes, the main Fateless timeline is marked by italics as well. Consider it the exception to the standard rule - this chapter is so wild that I consider it necessary. It's something of a clarity black hole, and I've considered it Fateless' "hard wall" for a while now. There are some reviewers who get interested in the story, review occasionally up until this point, and then it's like they drop off the face of the earth upon reaching chapter 12. I've done some tweaking with dialogue tags and descriptions to hopefully remedy some of the confusion - I know there's a lot going on here, in the Chaldea sections most of all. For those sections specifically: if a line of dialogue is in full italics, it means it's happening within Fateless' main timeline, where Shirou and Fateless!Artoria are, and that Chaldea is observing said dialogue in real time using their technology.
"In life, he was a warrior who specialized in a type of conjuration witchcraft called projection."
"What did he conjure?"
"Weapons," Arthur explained. "Blades, mostly, though he could harness many other things if given the proper resources and support."
Day three of the Cornish army's march on Camelot. The mounted royals plus Lancelot crowded around Arthur, so they might hear his explanation of this outlandish enemy they faced, this Servant.
"Surely he is not much of a threaten, then?" Gawain questioned. "Without the army to wield them?"
"The weapons are extensions of himself. He is the army he requires. They respond to his will. With his thought alone he can loose them as arrows, or command them to explode like a fireball."
Gaheris barked out an incredulous laugh. "Gods above, swords as arrows. A sight to behold, surely."
"Some weapons in his possession are eldritch in nature," Emiya continued. "Though they take considerably more effort to materialize. Blast of energy, man-seeking projectiles; all are within his purview."
Agravain cupped his chin. "Does he have weaknesses?"
"His biggest limitation has always been his lack of energy. He is as an unfed stallion: strong of body and mind, but with limited endurance and easily exhausted. That can be managed, however, depending on his Master."
"How so?"
"Servants draw their energy from the connection they share with their Master - their summoner. If the Master has enough energy to fuel him, his weakness will be shored."
"And the spawn summoned him, you said?"
"'Tis the only possibility. During my time on the mainland I heard rumors of the fellow's potential from my magus contacts. His capacity is... large, to say the least. I fear what Shirou has become in his presence."
Gawain clicked his tongue. "Is there any other way to combat this man, Arthur?"
"It depends. There are two possible versions the heir could have summoned: Shirou the younger, and Shirou the older. Both qualify as a Servant. The former we might bargain with. He is Shirou in his youth, as he trains his arts. Reasonable, if foolhardy. A decent man. Less skilled, as well."
"And if it is the older?"
...
"Emiya?"
Emiya's eyes darkened. His jaw clenched.
"We pray."
Saber spoiled her rotten.
"I! Was born! In the wrong! Eraaaaaa—!"
And Artoria would be lying if she said she didn't love every minute of it.
Unorthodox warcry fueling her, she wrestled with the rod and, following some struggle, hoisted her victim from the chilly river.
"Ha! Foul creature, I have bested thee! Look, Saber! Gaze upon my victory!"
...
"It's just a fish, Artoria."
She'd blushed more in the past weeks than she had the prior eighteen years.
"N-Nay! Nay, 'tis a big fish! Mine was a positively Herculean task! One worthy of song!"
"Yes, yes. Hail Artoria, Queen of the Fishermen. Long may she reign. More importantly, what was with that weird... ah... shout?"
She stared at him, deadpan, and lifted the line higher. The poor fish fought against its fate, but alas.
"Do you not see this miraculous tool, Saber?"
"It's a fishing rod, what about it?"
"What about it?! When did men first wield this holiest of devices?!"
"The 1600s? I think?"
"Why is the future so marvelous?!"
Her exuberance surprised him.
"Does Alter not remember it that well? The Grail War happened in 2004."
Artoria unhooked the fish, returned it to the river.
"All she remembers is fighting, sitting, eating!" she bemoaned. "She was like that poor fish! Pulled into a foreign land, gasping for breath. Hmph! Didn't once try to remedy her confusion, or acclimate to her environs. At the very least, she could have folded laundry!"
Did... she just accuse her alternate self of being a freeloader?
He leaned against a tree, and wiped a tear from his eye.
"Saber? Art thou well?"
"Y-Yeah, I'm—"
...
Was. He was good.
"Nevermind. Small problem, Master."
Her features steeled. Artoria tossed away the fading fishing rod, held out her waiting hands. At his cue, Kanshou and Bakuya leapt from the blade works.
They'd grown attached. Probably a good thing.
"What is it?"
"It seems my hunch was right. A Cornwall army marches on your home."
The Crystal fight made 'Master' a keyword, a triggering phrase, a flip of a light's switch. She became more Alter than Artoria. He became more Archer than Shirou.
Master and Saber, ward and bodyguard.
"Their numbers?" she queried.
"Eight thousand, roughly. I take it they've mustered. They are not my concern, however. I sense a Saint Graph."
"What is a Saint Graph?"
"An altered magical signature, that of a Servant. Originates typically from the organization Chaldea, a group tasked with intervening in mischievous timelines and correcting their paths. Their Master was one of the four I served."
"Wonderful. Visitors. Does this Saint Graph march with the Cornwall dogs?"
"It does."
"I see. And do you recognize its signature? Do you know this Servant's identity?"
"I do."
Saber turned to her. His armor crawled up his person, interlocking, like a metal tomb. The familiar helmet wrapped around his face.
"It's you number two."
Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-XX
Twig: [Unknown]
Year: 20XX
Location: Classified
Chaldea Security Organization
"Sir Agravain, Sir Gawain, forgive my insolence - please bring the army to a halt."
All eyes watched the central terminal. They saw the world from King Arthur's perspective.
"What for, Emiya?"
"He is here."
Day by day, hour by hour, the spiritron arrays brought more Servants into the fold. Like clockwork they were briefed and prepared for the coming deployment.
At the Wizard Marshall's behest, Ritsuka allowed no Servants in the room save the Round Table and the Babylonians. Ozymandias and Moses kept the nearby hallways clear on the promise to be filled in later. As of yet none sans the 'secretive three' - Gilgamesh, Merlin, Zelretch - knew much of the Monster outside the frightening magical signature and the after action reports. When asked for details regarding the man's appearance, the King of Heroes merely responded:
'He is her knight.'
Tensions, therefore, ran high.
"He's right on top of them," da Vinci spoke.
SHEBA's analysis failed to pinpoint the choppy reading. At random intervals it spiked higher than a Beast's, before dropping from the sensors completely. Impossible, clearly, but then again: everything about this situation defied logic or reason.
"We've halted, Emiya," that timeline's Agravain relayed. "How long will this take? Are we to prepare for conflict?"
"Nay, stay thine hands," replied King Arthur. "His signature is... different... than normal. For your men's safety, I do not wish to provoke him. Please, allow me words."
Gilgamesh sneered. "She smells the Archer. Curse thee, Alaya. To go so far..."
And then, from the forest's edge, a figure bounded. He landed in a squat, straightened. Metal scraped and clinked. Soot and steel, a tabard of crimson.
One could hear a pin drop.
...
"Yo, Saber."
A tone of voice matching Muramasa's; that of the vessel's, not Archer's. An undamaged body.
"King Gilgamesh," Merlin warned.
"I am well aware!"
On the screen, King of Knights dismounted her horse and closed the distance, separating herself from Cornwall's army. Their voices lowered, so as to not be overheard.
"Sh-Shirou?"
"Yeah, it's me."
Saber Artoria sighed, relieved.
"Thank goodness. I was worried! I sense Archer on you, Shirou. What happened? Is... is Rin with you? And what are you wearing?"
"No titles?" Gawain muttered. "Just his praenomen alone? And she adopted the use of his cognomen... oi, oi, wait a minute!"
"Tohsaka's fine, but nah, it's just me. Counter Force sent me here to help out. Gave me Archer's memories and experiences. Like when we fought back then, but cranked up to eleven. Gave me this armor, too. You like it?"
"Yes. It is very fashionable, Shirou."
"She acts more familiar with him than she does with her own knights," Lancelot agreed. He glanced to Merlin. "Wizard! How long did they know each other, again?"
But Merlin's attention was elsewhere. "Can we be severed, Kaleidoscope?"
Zelretch harrumphed. "Doing so summons the Guardians. The tether cannot be undone. I've sealed the potential backlash to this room; we need only to focus our efforts here. The array will not be damaged."
"'Tis as I've foreseen, then. Marvelous!"
"What about you, Saber?" Shirou asked on the screen. "Why are you here? Did Chaldea deploy? I like the outfit, by the way."
"H-Hush! Nay, an assailant wearing my visage attacked us. The clashing of our holy swords propelled me to this place, but I for some reason cannot bring forth my armor or Excalibur. 'Tis aggravating! Upon my arrival I learned of the situation, and embedded myself within the Cornish forces. 'Twas the best way to reach the heir. I meant to protect and guide her, but..."
Shirou relaxed a little.
"Well, that's a relief. We've already dealt with Alter, just so you know. Found her by the sword. But, honestly, Saber... isn't this a predicament? Look. Your charisma's worked wonders."
The assembly watched as King Arthur looked over her shoulder. The Cornish forces glowered at Shirou. Hands twitched over assorted weaponry. One wrong move against their favorite magical mercenary was all it would take.
She sighed.
"Yes. Despite the circumstances, we've grown quite fond of each other. I dislike seeing my knights absorbed by such vengeful desires. It brings unwanted memories."
Shirou named them as he counted.
"Lancelot, Gawain, Agravain, Gareth, Gaheris... shit, that's bad. It's split in half."
"Shirou?"
"Kay, Bedivere, Palamedes, Tristan, and Mordred are in Camelot, Saber. Sir Ector's the lord. They're quite fond of this world's you."
...
"Oh no," Tristan whispered.
Gawain's clenched fists shook. "'Tis blasphemy. A perpetual Camlann, or that mess with King Pellinore, and they've yet to realize it."
"Oh Miss Mash~!" Merlin gushed.
"E-Eh? Yes?"
"Could you be a dear and prepare your Noble Phantasm, please~?"
Ritsuka'd had enough. "What are you three preparing for, if I might ask? Is there something I should know?"
Tap, tap, tap went Gilgamesh's index against his forearm. "Every Saber has a sword. Faker's serves as his Mystic Code. His... magical wand. Tch. What a nuisance."
"The situation is more severe than expected, then," muttered King Arthur. "May you grant me permission to talk with her? Perhaps we might find some way to deescalate."
Shirou nodded. "Sure, no problem. Cornwall's gotta stay here, though."
"Aye, of course. One moment."
"His Mystic Code?" Ritsuka questioned. "I take it it's not another copy, then?"
Gilgamesh laughed in spite of himself. "Buahahahaha! A copy? He calls it a copy! Ahhh, Fujimaru, you are precious, indeed!"
"Alaya has given Saber the scabbard," Merlin explained. "So, he has all the pieces required. Quite the unfortunate situation, I must say!"
Ritsuka frowned. "Unfortunate?"
"The dear king's wish is vain. Cornwall looks to end their grudge, not bargain. They seek the heir's head on a stake. Once King Arthur leaves to confront the girl, they will advance on Saber. He will use his Reality Marble."
Mordred grunted from the room's corner.
"What, that's it? It's just his weird chant, ain't it? You know..." She held up one arm, closed an eye. "'Ah aym da bohn ov mah sohrd!' Everyone's seen the Archer guy do it, yeah? Why're everyone's garments all twisted?"
"His Reality Marble isn't what you think it is."
Answer given, Zelretch returned his focus to the proceedings. King Arthur explained the situation to the Cornwall nobles. They seemed disbelieving.
"The men grow eager, Arthur," timeline-Gawain noted. "They see a single man between themselves and justice."
"I beseech thee: ten minutes longer," King Arthur pleaded. "They are open to dialogue. Blood need not be shed this day!"
"We shall try."
With haste the king advanced into the forest. Finding her target took but a moment; the magical signature was a beacon in the black, a star of arcana hanging in the mind's eye. Arthur barged into a small clearing, a minimalist camp well made.
All conversation stopped. Someone gasped.
Merlin exhaled, long and slow. A joyous whisper floated from his lips. "Goodness me. To think that's who you..."
"King Arthur?" Arthur tried.
"Artoria."
She sat against a tree, Kanshou and Bakuya at her sides. Chaldea-Bedivere swallowed the lump in his throat while he watched it all unfold an entire reality away.
"My king... finally, you..."
"I... eh?" stammered King Arthur.
"I'm beginning to sense a pattern here. Listen: Ar-tor-ee-ah. Not Arthur, not Pendragon. Aye?"
"Do... do you know who I am?"
"Me number two," timeline-Artoria grunted. "Me as a king. Again. Forgive me if I am unbecoming. I have suffered this conversation once before, you see, though you are not as..." She gave her kingly self a once over. "...evil looking... as Alter."
"Her cuirass!" Chaldea-Lancelot hissed, pointing. "Look at what she wears!"
Zelretch tapped his cane against the floor. "Hrm. They are ahead of schedule?"
Gilgamesh shut some sort of heavenly tome. "On time."
"I see."
On the screen, King Arthur continued her questioning. "You fought her at the sword, aye? Why did you not draw it? What did Shirou tell you?"
"Saber?" timeline-Artoria clarified. "He's told me many things. I wished to confirm for myself, so I gave it a tug. It moved not."
...
"Yes!" Merlin cheered. "Yes, this is it! Oh, Gaia! I could kiss you! Pardon me, excuse me! I'll be right back! Aye, right back~! Remember to close your eyes, everyone!"
Mash sputtered. "W-Wait, where are you going?!"
The magus dissolved to flower petals. "To aid my king!"
"H-Hey! Merlin!"
King Arthur couldn't believe what she heard. "What? Explain! What do you mean it did not move?! 'Tis—"
"Listen, is there a name I might call thee?" timeline-Artoria interrupted. "Something besides Saber. He is Saber."
"A-Arthur."
Timeline-Artoria stood with a sigh. "Nay, that shan't work either."
"Why not?"
"That is my brother's name."
King Arthur - the woman, King Arthur - said nothing. She couldn't, faced with such news.
War cries echoed from beyond the forest. The nobles had lost control.
"His name is Arthur Pendragon," the 'heir' continued. "The Sword in the Stone is his. And I..."
Chaldea-Gawain's eyes widened. Utter horror sat deep in his face.
"Nay... nay, nay, nay, Gawain, you fool! Open thine eyes! Open thine eyes!"
"...I and my city, Camelot, are the witch Merlin's distraction."
And then came the light.
"Shielder!" roared Gilgamesh. "Do it at once!"
King Arthur whirled back the way she came. The screen froze. SHEBA's feed crashed. Error messages blared.
Embedded in the ground before her was a dented, cracked sword.
"MOLD!"
A sword with Excalibur's appearance, and Caliburn's shape.
"CAMELOT!"
Blinding, untold power flooded the room. Everyone present squeezed their eyes shut.
Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-03 ["Unlimited Blade Works"]
Twig: 03.12 ["Brilliant Years" - TRUE]
Year: 2014
Location: London
London International Airport
"Gray? Hey, Gray. What's wrong?"
The girl steadied herself against the wall. "I-I'm okay, sir. It's just a... a warmth..."
Velvet discreetly placed himself between her and the crowds. No one paid them any attention, but better safe than sorry.
"A warmth? Describe it."
"I... think it's related to..." She gestured to her face. "...to you-know-who."
"Is it painful?"
"No! It feels like... relief? Like something has happened."
Each day grew stranger, and now this. Like he didn't have enough problems already. Velvet glanced to the cloaked Guardian at the far end of the terminal. In the open, yet invisible to all but him.
It stared out the large airport window, to the clear skies beyond.
"Very well. Come, Gray. Our flight leaves soon."
"Of course, sir."
Planet: Earth
Branch: 0-00
Twig: 00.00 [The Trunk]
Year: AD 506
Location: Britain
A dome of light.
The world shook. The air rippled. Expanding. Eclipsing.
Point zero - the Servant.
"What... what is that...?"
"Witchcraft!" Gawain hissed. "Emiya! Blast, he's on the other side!"
Soldiers formerly advancing now squinted and cowered behind their shields. The arcane sphere drew closer. Trees and rocks vanished into the brilliant white. It encroached upon the line.
"Back up! Back up!"
But then, as the dome approached, one man paused.
He saw something else within.
...
"P-Pa...? Father? But—"
His spear and shield fell to the frost. Elated shock replaced his fears. That soldier's dead parents beckoned to him from beyond the veil.
"Lucius!" a comrade called. "Art thou mad? Get back in line!"
"Nay! Nay, look! Look, 'tis a blessing! 'Tis... 'tis...!"
At the man's cry, more soldiers squinted into the godly rays. And they, too, began to see.
"My... my boy! My boy! He lives!"
"Look! Oi, Isaiah, look! 'Tis our town's coffers! They overflow! Quickly! Quickly, let us go! They celebrate without us!"
One after the other, men broke ranks and ran to the light.
One after the other, they burned against its walls.
Gawain stumbled back at the sight, aghast with how easily - how foolishly - his men fell.
"Do not look! Avert thine eyes! AVERT THINE EYES!"
His calls went unheeded. By the dozens, by the hundreds, they perished. Soldiers flung themselves with shouts and cheers into their glimpsed glories. Fame and fortune. Women and children. Visions of kingships, of full bellies and plentiful ale, of all for which they longed and all for which they fought.
Peace. Happiness. Justice.
Dead families and lost friends returned from frigid graves. Widowers found wives. The stillborn drew breath.
A burning soldier extended his fiery, skeletal hand back to one of his fellows. Joyful tears blackened to charcoal.
"'Tis beautiful!"
The dying soldier's friend grabbed the hand without a second thought. And together, they disintegrated.
"Avert thine eyes!" Gawain begged. "Please! Avert thine eyes! Do not look at it!"
"Who... what..."
A soft, hopeful plea drew his attention.
Lancelot cried. He stared at the dome.
"G-Guinevere...?"
"'Tis as though I stare at the sun!"
The light burned her eyes, the wind whipped her body. Artoria grit her teeth, squinted, braced against a tree.
"'Tis nothing like projection! Were you aware of this?!" Arthur called. Her forearms shielded her face from the billowing pebbles and leaves.
"N-Nay! He claimed to be a conjurer! That sword - it smells of Caliburn! 'Tis related, you think?!"
"Not just Caliburn! Excalibur, too! He's been known to alter Noble Phantasms, but... but it is impossible to combine them! We must reach it! If all else fails, we cut our way through! I shan't let Shirou stay in there!"
They were of one mind. The two women stumbled, crawled and fought their way through the hurricane-force winds. Behind them trees toppled; the sheers eroded a boulder into razor sharp chunks.
The strange sword groaned, and reality around it turned monochrome. The landscape disintegrated and rebuilt itself in an instant. The very planet shook to ruin.
Artoria couldn't hear herself think. "Gods above, what is that thing?!"
"It wars with Gaia!" her counterpart shouted. "The Counter Force is trying to contain it!"
A new, unfamiliar term - one to ask about later. She lunged forth and came within inches. Fingertips swiped empty air. Pressure built. Mana drowned her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe!
Beneath her feet the ground peeled away. She slipped, tumbled.
A hand grabbed her arm.
"Huh—wha—"
A man in a flowing white robe, unaffected by the gale storm. His gentle smile brought the strangest bit of comfort.
She knew this man. Alter knew this man.
"Hello, my king."
"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Hello, my other king!"
"Now is not the time, blasted wizard! How do we stop this?! With haste, if you would! Shirou—"
"—needs you, aye, aye! Heed me now, Artoria Pendragon! Two alone may hold the Last Phantasm: its king, and its scabbard!"
Artoria didn't understand. "L-Last Phantasm? Its scabbard...?"
Merlin beamed, broad as could be.
"One shard of its wielder shan't be enough! Both of you together must draw and sheathe the sword! It's the constraint through which his light is channeled!"
"His light?!" Arthur stressed. "You mean Shirou's?!"
"He is the only scabbard you have, aye!"
And then, for the King of Knights, it clicked.
"The only... wait. Wait! Merlin! The catalyst that summoned me to him that day - are you saying it is—?!"
"But of course! Now come! 'Tis time to complete the first leg of your journey~!"
Their energy renewed, the two aspects pushed again and found purchase upon the blade's hilt. It sucked the breath from their lungs; they braced against it with both hands. Only then, with four on the hilt, did the sword relent. Around them the forest fell to ruin. It cratered, it fractured. Rubble lifted to the sky and broke to pieces.
An apocalypse in its own right. Their palms burned against the ether. Merlin stood before the two Artorias, shadowed fully by the godly rays.
"You and he are intertwined by fate far more than either of you realize! The golden light emanating before thy gaze! The destructive rays surging from Caliburn and Excalibur! The soul in which you found salvation!"
He leveled his staff at the golden dome frozen in place by Gaia's influence.
At the Reality Marble.
"They are one and the same!"
"Walk forth, my king, unto thy destiny!"
Fate/ess
Magical signature updated. Listing.
Servant
True Name: Shirou Emiya
Container: Saber (Grand)
Strength: EX | Endurance: EX
Agility: EX | Mana: EX | Luck: EX
Hardbreach - 1
Noble Phantasm: ?
Type: ? | Rank: ? | Range: ?
Effect: UTOPIA
IN THE BEGINNING
"And return the sword to Avalon!"
Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-XX
Twig: [Unknown]
Year: 20XX
Location: Classified
Chaldea Security Organization
"I hear her! I hear her voice! Gods above, please!"
"Enkidu! It has the Knight of the Lake!"
Enkidu swept Lancelot's legs. Chains bound him to the floor; he shook all the while. Eyes spasmed in their sockets, spittle frothed in his mouth.
"Guinevere! Guinevere!"
"My head... my head...! Father, Father Father Faaaatheeeer!"
Mordred rocked to and fro, arms coiled about her knees in the fetal position.
Every neuron in Ritsuka's brain fired in sequence. Chaldea. Olga. Romani. The Earth turned beautiful, the world peaceful and happy. No wars. No Grand Order. Nothing but blissful, impossible perfection.
"Agh...! Aaaaagh!"
"Fujimaru!"
The King of Heroes' voice cut through the flowing rivers and sounds of laughter.
"Do not open thine eyes, Fujimaru! Resist the thoughts! Do not let them madden you! You've come this far! The sacrifices are worth something, Fujimaru!"
He wanted it! He wanted it more than anything! He needed to reach forward, to walk down the path—
"I see it!"
Through blurry, squinted eyes Ritsuka watched Sir Bedivere's shadowed form climb to his knees. The light suffusing the room - it originated from his silver arm. He steadied himself on its glowing palm. Just that mere pressure fractured the floor.
"The light of her dream! That king who found peace! I see it now! I see you, Shirou Emiya! King of Heroes, tell me! Is Chaldea necessary for their union?!"
...
Gilgamesh seemed almost resigned. As if he'd expected all of this. He glanced to Zelretch, who only nodded in response.
"—It is."
"Then through this act, I bless the king's path! Sir Gawain! Attend to me at once!"
Power surged through Gawain's person. He stood despite the torrential ether. Galatine sat heavy in his palm, and he approached his fellow knight with it hoisted over his shoulder.
The King of Heroes grunted his approval. "Your loyalty for your liege shall be remembered always, knight Bedivere."
Utter focus pervaded the first of the Round Table.
"Hail Arthur! King of the Britons!"
Gawain's jaw set.
"Long may she reign!"
Galatine dropped like an axe through Bedivere's neck.
Planet: Earth
Branch: 0-00
Twig: 00.00 [The Trunk]
Year: AD 506
Location: Britain
"Artoria! On three! One! Two! Three!"
Heavier than any sword either of them had lifted. It bore the world's weight, that blade, and the two women fought to raise it from the ground, let alone keep it upright. Sweat drenched their brows. They could only drag it forward.
So be it.
It trailed a line of ethereal sparks. Into the light. Into the broiling ether, that Marble of magma. No wastelands, no blades, no brooding Archers forging broken swords.
Just the brilliance of a goal long sought, propelled by forces unimaginable.
"Shirou! Where are you?!"
No response. The blade trembled against the air. Ether converged on its length like moths to flame. A small reprieve; still their lungs burned. And then, in that infinite, golden world, Artoria saw it.
"There! Arthur, there! That's it, aye?!"
The scabbard.
The King of Knight's irises shone brighter than their aimless surroundings.
"Come! Come, quickly!"
A walk became a jog. A jog became a run. A run became a sprint.
Energy bubbled over the scabbard's edges. Like a river it flowed out into the brilliant world, hope itself, an ever-kindled flame upon which mankind soared.
Seek!
Believe!
Wish!
Thy dreams!
Thy goals!
Thy fate!
To make the impossible reality!
Salvation to the low!
Glory to the great!
Paradise!
Heaven!
Utopia!
It washed over them in waves. Pulsing, ebbing, a conduit of raw emotion, a wave of unending motivation. That brilliance, the light of heroes, of they who strove for justice!
The crystallization of humanity's eldest dreams! Its deepest desires!
Artoria screamed. One step. Another.
"Shut up! I do not care! The only utopia I need..."
They lifted the Last Phantasm—
"...is my Saber!"
—and sheathed it once more.
The eldritch wind continued unabated. The mercenary stood, and Gawain began to panic.
"No! Lancelot, no! Whatever you see, 'tis not real! I beg thee!"
Lancelot did not look away. He took one suicidal step forward; for his friend, it was a step too far. Drawing his dagger, Gawain tackled Lancelot to the ground and stabbed his thigh.
The man gasped in pain, blinked, returned from the depths.
"G-Gagh—! Wh—huh? Gods above, what—"
"Lancelot! Damnable fool, don't look at it! Believe not its lies! We must flee henceforth!"
"A-Aye! Aye, milord!"
The noble craned his neck. "Agravain! Gaheris! Gareth! Where are you?!"
"Here!"
The call came from the clearing's edge, where the three siblings braces against a tree. A motley collection of men likewise hid within the forest. Whatever their dispositions, it seemed some resisted the siren's call. Gawain and Lancelot scrambled to their positions.
"We break for the forest! Come! We've no hope here!"
"What of Emiya?" Agravain demanded. "I shan't lose my man!"
"He would suggest the same! Should he survive this calamity, he'll find us soon enough! And if on this day he perishes, gods bless him, it means there's little use waiting!"
The man bit back a creative curse.
"Aye, you've the right of it. Blast it all, that damnable—"
"SIR GAWAIN!"
Gawain twisted to the dome. From within its brilliance - a hand.
"Pull us out!"
Emiya.
"'Tis a trick!" Lancelot urged. "Gawain, surely—"
"Then I shall take the risk! By honor's decree, for the glory of Cornwall!"
He scrambled into the wind.
"Arthuuuuuuuuur!"
And tumbled. Back he flew, end over end, until at last he scrounged his sword and stabbed the frozen dirt for support. On hands and knees Gawain crawled and clawed his way to his friend, to that man standing within the heavenly rays. He looked.
And beheld a king of blue and silver, extending his hand.
He grabbed it.
"PULL!" commanded Emiya.
"Hooooogh—!"
But one man alone held not the strength to defeat a Reality Marble.
He was not alone.
"Pull him out!"
His siblings formed up alongside, as did Lancelot. As did the Cornish stragglers. And that is how it began.
"PULL!"
That haggard collection of knights and mercenaries.
"AAAAAARTHUUUUUR!"
They who would be called the Round Table.
The bounded field imploded. Inwards it fell like a hole of black; then, with an almighty hiss: out. The shockwave blew them all to the ground. Gawain rolled with the blow, up onto his feet. Frazzled yet aware, anxious yet relieved.
"Emiya!"
"I live!" he barked. "I have sealed the Marble, but they escaped to the woods! Milord, what of the army?!"
Agravain groaned as he stood. "Most of them lost, claimed by the witchcraft. Gods, the obscenity! One devil! With that much power! Gaheris! Headcount!"
"Aye, brother!"
Emiya hissed. "I warned you, did I not? Servants are walking armies, milord, and Shirou is no exception. His power has grown tenfold since last I saw him. 'Twas him at his pinnacle, nothing less."
"We've not the numbers to advance on the spawn's city," Gawain muttered. "These losses shall take us months to recoup, and now they know our plans. Agh, blast it all. All our advantages, lost! The Duke shall have our heads!"
"I have their scent," Emiya responded. "Allow me pursuit, if it pleases you. I shall hound them yet. Worst case, it shall keep them from Camelot. Best case, the heir shall be at Tintagel's walls by month's end!"
"If I may, that seems our best option," Lancelot advised. He rubbed at his temples, obviously nursing the mother of all headaches. "Emiya can handle the Servant. The rest of us... well..."
The royals' solemnity spoke their agreement. Gaheris returned with the news.
"We've lost the majority. Two hundred remain, thereabouts. We cannot march in this state, Agravain, let alone wage war. Merely standing in this place threatens their abandonment."
"A single man, slayer of thousands... tch. Return them to their homes," Agravain ordered. "And withdraw needed compensation from the coffers. The men here, by wit or grace, resisted the eldritch terror. We may need them yet. Buy their loyalty."
"Aye."
"Gawain, Lancelot, make for Camelot. They've not seen your faces. Observe them from a distance, make note of any peculiarities. We shan't be caught with our hosen betwixt our ankles."
"Aye, brother. We'll leave at once."
"Emiya, the hunt is yours. Report as you can, and be safe. You have our support always."
"Aye, milord!"
"Should you be moving this soon, Saber?"
"I've - ngh! - been through worse. I'll be fine."
They watched the conversation from the treeline. Artoria pursed invisible lips.
"Will this... really work?"
"Sure it will. Saber and I have done riskier stuff."
"That does not make me feel all that better. And is there not another name we can use? Two Sabers? Two Artorias? 'Tis awfully confusing. Even more so once we meet Arthur."
"We could call her Lancer," Saber joked.
"Eh? Lancer?"
"I'm kidding, don't call her Lancer, she'll hurt me. Truth is, you number two will only respond to Saber or Arthur, for the same reasons you prefer Artoria. My Saber - number three - eventually learned to accept 'Artoria' again, but this one? She's very much the King of Knights, to the point where she preferred becoming a Heroic Spirit after death instead of passing on. She figured she could help more people that way."
"So she's Alter if Alter wasn't a curmudgeonly, angst-ridden whore?"
"Peculiar choice of words, but yeah."
"But still! She cannot be Saber, Saber! You are Saber!"
"You could just call me Shirou, you know."
Invisible Air did wonders at hiding her embarrassment.
"Huh?! N-Nay! Nay, I-I could n-n-nev—I m-mean, if that is wh-what you prefer, b-but—"
He ruffled her hair. "Yes, yes. Saber it is. Just call her Seiba, then. She likes that one."
"'Tis the same thing, though?"
"It's the Japanese pronunciation."
"The Japanowhat?"
"Japanese. Japan. Host country of the Grail War, my place of birth. It's how my native language says the word. Sei as in 'obey', ba, like 'baaaaa'! You know, like a sheep. Say mine like you normally do, and for hers roll the A."
...
He stifled his laugh. "She'll recognize the difference. I promise."
...
"...baaaaa."
"Why do you speak like a sheep?"
Artoria turned to find her counterpart staring at the both of them, hands on her hips. Their cloaks of invisibility dispersed.
"...Arthur it is," she muttered to herself.
"She's practicing pronunciation," Saber clarified.
"I did not know sheep could pronounce things, Shirou."
"Not sheep. Your name, Seiba."
Ahoge straight up, shoulders squared, pivot, one-eighty degrees.
Seiba pleased.
"I see, I see! Very good. You've taught her well, Shirou."
Saber leaned close to his Master, voice a whisper. "See? Told—"
"However."
Uh oh.
"Please remove thy armor."
Seiba angry.
It faded away. The King of Knights glared from her periphery. He gulped.
"You're mad at me."
"I am not mad at you, Shirou."
"Yes you are."
"I am not."
Artoria glanced back and forth from the sidelines.
"Saber," he began, "look, I didn't think—"
"My point exactly. You did not think, Shirou. You simply did. How often must Rin explain the ramifications of thine actions?"
She stood on her toes and began combing through his hair. Artoria balked.
"Wh-What are you doing?"
"I am ascertaining his Archer-ness!"
"Huh?!"
Saber took it like a champion. A thoroughly humiliated champion, but a champion nonetheless.
"I just planned on using the blade works! That's all! Seriously!" he whined. "You know, disarm the army. Put the fear of God in 'em. Honestly, Saber!"
"Clearly that did not happen, Shirou. Hold still."
Artoria's teeth ground together. She tugged at her bangs. He said she was number two, not number three! She wasn't his Saber! Why did they bicker like a pair of lovers?!
She was fifteen! A fifteen year old king! She barely reached the height of his chest!
"I see no silvered hair or tan skin. Good. Please exercise more caution in the future. Now, Shirou, how do you feel? Describe thy circumstances."
She doted on him. She was doting on him!
Agh!
He scratched his cheek. "I did the aria as always. Felt a weird tug on my chest, blacked out. Woke up with you two standing over me, feeling like I'd been run over by Berserker. So... you know. I'm alright, I guess? Typical day."
Arthur prodded her finger in his gut. "That is not—"
He patted her head.
...
Artoria's anxiety dissipated. He treated them the same. The same... because...
The king balled her fists, stared up at him through her bangs, swallowed.
"You... you are not elder Muramasa?"
Saber grinned. "I am not old man Muramasa."
"You are not Archer?"
"I have his memories, but not his worldview. I'm alright. Really."
The full weight of their situation slammed into the King of Knights like a warhammer. She squeezed her eyes shut, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
...
"I missed you, Shirou...!"
He returned the hug.
"I missed you too, Saber."
Confusion Corner
D'AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
The "reality marble" (because it is a reality marble, believe it or not) is based on the deleted scene from the UBW adaptation's epilogue, where Shirou meets Ghost!Kay at the site of Artoria's grave in Glastonbury Abbey - you know, the tourist attraction lmao. This scene was instead added to the UBW drama CD. Here are the relevant parts:
Kay: If you come here to pay your respects, you only need to express your feelings. Thank you for coming but you don't need to bring offerings every time or come here often. That's not what that girl would have wanted, would she?
Shirou: You are right(Laughs). Actually, um, I have one more question for you. What are your thoughts on her?
Kay: Well... I think she is a shining star. If one gets lost in the darkness, she looks to the starry sky for guidance to rely on. She was born during a terrible period, she struggled like this and finally fell into a deep sleep; no more, no less. Sure, some people adore and honor her, and there are people like you or me who think differently. After all, I am a decent person with good character. It's better that the stars stay in the sky; having them here could be something bothersome, don't you think?
Shirou: Of course. But that is precisely the reason why she remained etched in your eyes, and you can't forget about her, can you?
Kay: Heh. (Laughter) Honestly! You're a stubborn guy, but it appears you know which is your path. Don't be an idiot and worry more about yourself. Finally, I'm leaving. At the very least, now that the light of that star is etched in your vision, your goal has a clear path and you won't get lost.
The star motif is an everpresent theme in Artoria's journey, this idea that her idealism and hope are so powerful they burn people. We see this return in Lostbelt 6, too - Castoria's theme is quite literally titled "The Moment A Star Is Born". What happens, then, when that star - that, AHEM AHEM, high spark - instead comes to the ground and becomes "bothersome", as Kay put it?
Now that I think about it, a descending star almost sounds like a Servant, doesn't it? Something from the heavens, something beyond mortal comprehension, descending to the surface...
;)