Fateless Hardbreach - 2, a fate/stay night fanfic

Drums guided the crew. Black waves crested the vessel's prow. Lightning crackled overhead, and rain splashed men's necks, yet on they rowed. Through their exhaustion and through their crippling fear: they rowed.

They had no choice.

"Patriarch! Patriarch! The Terror comes!"

"Heed it not! Shield the women and children! To the light! We sail to the light!"

This was their moment of truth. Like all the others, this clan undertook the impossible. They escaped to the seas, into the dead oceans separating the ruined mainland from the holy isle beyond.

These disparate peoples—

A crystalline spire ruptured the waters off their starboard side. It pierced another ship, lifted it high above the ocean's swell. The men on board jumped from their seats with broken shouts and cries, and grabbed their weapons for a frenzied final stand.

—were the Anglo-Saxons.

"The Chieftain's boat!"

"They are lost! They are lost! ROW! ROW!"

And in this world, they were not invaders.

Twin armored warriors descended from the stormy clouds. They whisked away the doomed vessel's occupants, bounded to the soaked deck. Fearful clansmen fell from their arms. Red-cloaked otherworlders followed the warriors' leads; the Patriarch resisted a cheer of relief, for the appearance of these divine beings signified the impossible.

They had made it to the defensive line. To the coast.

"Ave!" one of them barked.

The word took the refugees by surprise. A furred lion's helm swiveled from face to face.

"Imperial!" one of the men realized. "It speaks Imperial! Cyneric! Do you live?!"

A man scrambled his way to the warrior's feet, his head to the floor.

"A-Ave!"

It muttered Latin to the man, and at his nod took the skies with its compatriots. A massive, spiraling lance flashed to its hand.

"W-We've arrived!" he rasped through his tears. "The promised land beckons! The Otherworlders protect us!"

The Patriarch hoisted him to his feet. "Where do we go? How do we approach?!"

"Sail into the light! The spirits guide us through!"

...

The Patriarch turned to the Chieftain.

"F-Father...!"

The Chieftain spit out sea water and stood on shaky legs. "It waits! We've not escaped yet! Row, men! Row to the Sacred Isle!"

The hollers of combat mixed with their cheers; eldritch explosions and wrathful cries spurred the oarsmen onward. Drums in his ears, the Patriarch turned to the aftward apocalypse.

A hole parted the clouds. Dozens upon dozens of red-cloaked otherworlders emerged from the breach, their shapeless forms billowing, and on silent cue manifested their ethereal weapons. An Anglo-Saxon flotilla fought against wave and crystal to reach the invisible perimeter their vessel had already crossed. Some would make it. Many others would not.

A terrible, glassy mass floated beyond the horizon. A foreign world unto itself, it corrupted all it touched, seemingly impervious to any attack the otherworlders conjured. It dueled against a monstrous Leviathan, a beast from tome and legend. The serpent alone halted the entity and bought them time to pass.

And then, with their black and white lances pointed to the heavens, the two warriors roared their hallowed command.

"RHONGO—"

The skies parted before the Anglo-Saxons. Monsoon gave way to golden resplendence, and for the first time in their wretched lives, the clan aboard that vessel beheld the promised land.

A heavenly dome, a solid sphere of light, covered the entirety of the British Isles.

At its center: a column of true ether.

The Tower.

An army of thousands, legendary champions of past, present, future, all stood on guard at the Reality Marble's borders.

They awaited the end of the world.

The incessant drums surrounded the Patriach. He bowed his head, and prayed to his ancestors for the salvation of his people.

For salvation from the TYPE.

"—MYNIAAAAAAD!"

The Tower erupted.

"So."

"So?"

Gawain shot Lancelot a knowing sideways glance.

"Who is Guinevere?"

...

"Who?"

"Oh ho! Playing coy, are we?"

"'Tis impossible to play coy when one knows not the woman of which you speak."

The noble's jaw dropped. "What, seriously?"

And Lancelot blinked in return, utterly lost. "Aye. Should I know such a wench?"

"My good mercenary, you spoke her name like a man wronged, sniffled as though you'd shat thy trousers, and promptly tried to hurl thyself into that Servant's arcane death orb. A woman so fine you'd rather forget, perhaps?"

"Truly? Hmph! Nay, I cannot recall anyone by that name. For the better, methinks. 'Twas just his witchcraft twisting the mind."

"Aye, aye, of course. Arthur shall handle it."

"I worry about him, Gawain. His thoughts for his friend will lead him down a treacherous path."

"Be that as it may, 'tis nothing we can do to change his mind. I daresay no one else aside from Uther's damnable court wizard could hope to match that creature. Tch, to the pits with it all. What a conundrum we find ourselves in."

Lancelot shifted his weight on the horse.

"There must be some weakness we might exploit. He was a man, surely, not some daemon. What was that oddity he wore? Some sort of iron container?"

"Armor, I believe, but far more intricate than anything I've ever seen. A sword could not pierce it. I spied no flesh."

"What about a rock?"

Gawain sputtered. "A rock?!"

"Aye. Drop a rock on him. Metal stops the bite of a blade, not brute force."

"Oh, why, yes, of course, Lancelot! How brilliant! Let us just drop a large boulder upon the man who jumped a hundred paces! Surely!"

Lancelot harrumphed, and took a passive-aggressive swig from his pigskin.

"I do not see you offering any better ideas."

"I have no better ideas! I lost my better ideas when he slaughtered those poor bastards by the thousands!"

"They perished in peace, at least."

Gawain sighed. "Not a bad way to go, I suppose. Perhaps a bit melodramatic. I'd rather someone lob off my head and be done with it, personally."

"If we play our cards right, I'm sure Camelot would oblige."

"Oh?"

Lancelot simply gestured into the treeline. An aged, Roman-era wall stood off in the distance. The hustle and bustle of the city drifted past the gate.

"We're here, I assume."

"So we are. Come, let's—"

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Eh?"

Lancelot cocked an eyebrow. Gawain processed.

Processed.

Proces—oh. Ohhh.

He raised his cloak's hood.

"Right, thank you."

"Of course."

"I wish to e-express my d-displeasure with the current arrangement!"

He'd learned over time that Artoria's verbosity increased proportionally with her anxiety. If it got high enough, she started swearing like a sailor.

They weren't at that point, not yet. But getting there.

"What's wrong?"

She sniffled. Her lip quivered.

"She insulted my ponytail, Saber!"

...

"I merely informed her of its disadvantages in combat, Shirou," Arthur countered.

...

The deja vu Shirou felt in this moment rivaled some of his Counter Guardian deployments. Why was it that Artoria's mortal enemies always turned out to be other Artorias? Was this the Chaldea cafeteria? Was he about to witness yet another Pendragon food fight?

Were sword and scabbard really that similar?

Honestly. All he could do was sigh. "Now, Saber. You can't just harass someone for their personal preferences. Artoria's fared well so far. There's no need to fix what isn't broken."

"'Tis for her own benefit, Shirou. It takes but one lucky grab to enter mortal peril."

"You'll be in mortal peril if ya don't shut uuuup!"

She really wasn't helping.

"Artoria," he warned.

"She started it!"

"Yeah, but you don't need to continue it. A suggestion's a suggestion."

"A recommendation," Arthur corrected.

"A suggestion is a suggestion, and you don't need to follow it if you don't want to."

Arthur, obviously, hated admitting defeat. "Accepting criticism is an important part of improving oneself, Shirou."

Artoria peeked her head around his side. "Thy face is a criticism!"

Arthur's cheeks reddened; she opened her mouth to retort.

Alright, they weren't getting anywhere. He hoisted the King of Knights over his shoulder.

"Sh-Shirou?! Unhand me at once!"

"Nope. I'm putting you two in time out."

"I am not a child!"

"You are, technically, younger than her."

Small hands rapped against his back.

"Age is a number!"

Said the one gifted partial immortality.

"Uh huh. Whatever you say, Saber."

Artoria blew a raspberry as they left. He deposited Arthur on the other side of the clearing.

"What is it with you and your alternate selves?"

She dusted herself off, crossed her arms. "'Tis not my fault they are all unkingly."

"Saber."

"Yes, Shirou?"

"For the entirety of 'summer', you walked Chaldea's halls wearing nothing but a swimsuit and a cape."

...

"'Twas appropriate wear for the season. And how do you know about that, Shirou?"

He stared at her. "Because Archer fed you."

...

She turned away, blushing. "How... how much did you see?"

"All of it. I was there, technically. As him. It's complicated like that."

"Then you are aware of how strange she is, Shirou!" Arthur stressed. "She is a doppelganger! If I did not know better, I would assume her a pseudo-Servant! I cannot relate to her. I hold more in common with the Lancers... nay, with Alter than I do that girl! Who is she?"

An inevitable conflict. So alike, yet so different. The human and the king couldn't coexist.

But even so, Artoria had figured out a way to accept Alter. And if she could work with Alter's memories, he hoped she and Arthur could find some common ground. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

"She's who you would've become had you denied Caliburn, Saber."

...

"I do not understand, Shirou."

To tell her that was to declare the sky was no longer blue. Impossible. Couldn't happen.

"She mentioned Arthur, right? Not you, the other one."

"Aye. Her... brother. I have no siblings, however."

Well, outside Morgan. But Morgan didn't count.

"He's you if you were a man. He's the chosen king in this world. Artoria's the one who shouldn't exist. The role's already taken."

"Then why is she here?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. We're hoping Arthur and Merlin can give us some answers. Try to imagine it from her perspective, Saber. You're the destined king. What would you do if that was taken from you?"

Her answer was immediate. Swift as a horse.

"It cannot be taken from me. It is who I am, Shirou."

"And yet it was, Saber. You can apparently exist without it. She's the proof."

She had no reply. His gaze softened.

"Listen, just try and get along, okay? We're doing this for your knights, too. I'm gonna go calm her down."

He left without waiting for a response. Across the clearing Artoria busied herself with, well, food. She gnawed on a rabbit leg, like some starved animal.

"Stress eating's bad for you."

"'m naht—"

"Chew your food, Artoria."

Chew, chew, swallow.

"I am not stress eating, Saber! I am think-eating!"

"Do tell."

He dodged the thrown bone. Throwing things ranked a solid seven on the 'Artoria mad' severity scale. Any higher and he'd need to forcefully reboot her with a hug. He sat beside her. Time for damage control.

"Alright, what's wrong? What's this about, really?"

"She. Is so. Uptiiiiiiight. Make her stop, Saber! 'Tis driving me insane!"

They meshed about as well as oil and water.

By virtue of Arthur's upbringing and hopeless idealism, everything was to be done to the absolute height of perfection. Emotions controlled, combat techniques flawless. The ideal king, with zero room for error. Objective.

Artoria, meanwhile, hated the very concept of nobility. She was a village girl, a free spirit. Someone who ate when she wanted, burped when she wanted, laughed when she wanted. Subjective.

Both the same person, taken to two opposite ends.

"Even Alter was not this bad!" she rambled. "'Twas easy to understand her reasons, at least! But Arthur... she is just... ngh! Gods above!"

"C'mon, she's not that terrible."

"Yes she is! Always prim and proper! She scowls at me if I sit wrong! How does she do that, anyway?! Do her legs not tire from kneeling all the time?!"

"It's a habit she picked up during her time as my Servant. It's meditation."

She pouted. "'Tis weird."

He rolled his eyes. "She thinks you're the weird one, so I guess the feeling's mutual."

Artoria shuffled closer, so she could knock their shoulders together. Shirou sighed.

"Listen, you two can't see it right now, I get that, but in the end you're the same girl. You've never seen the way she gets flustered, and she's never seen the resilience you have for your beliefs. You're in her and she's in you. Both sides are just overshadowed by the dominant aspects."

Artoria took a quick glance in Arthur's direction. The King of Knights stared a disapproving, if not jealous hole through her head. The bodily contact, probably.

"Somehow I doubt that," she blanched.

"Your opinion might change if you sparred with her."

She tilted up her nose. "I refuse!"

"Why?"

"For no reason in particular!"

Ah, yes. Afraid she'd lose. Afraid Arthur would gloat. Pot meet kettle, and all that.

"You'd learn more from her than you could me, you know. Nothing beats the original."

Emerald orbs flashed. "I wish to receive instruction from you alone, Saber."

He attempted to reply; Arthur beat him to the punch.

"You disparage thy rightful abilities?"

She towered over them, all five feet of her. Indignity radiated off every cell.

"They are mine by choice, not by right," Artoria snapped. "And this time, I have chosen something else!"

"A foolish decision, certainly. I was among the strongest in the Grail War. Is that not right, Shirou?"

Ah, shit.

"Under Tohsaka, maybe," he joked.

"Nonsense. Please do not sell yourself short. You are a wonderful Master."

Artoria's pressure against his shoulder quintupled.

"'Tis quite unfortunate he is not thy Master anymore, then!"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"You fool yourself. A true Master-Servant bond extends far beyond paltry command seals. You would do well to recognize that fact, lest something unfortunate befalls thee, Artoria."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Hoh? Living in the past, are we? Unable to face reality?"

"'Tis not the past if we both yet live. I am his Saber and he is my Master. That is the way of things."

Alright! Fine!

A pair of training swords dropped to the ground.

"Just beat each other up, already! Get it out of your systems!" he pleaded.

They stilled. Potent scowls, twitching fingers - but behind it all, hesitation. On both sides.

Shirou was flummoxed.

Artoria was one thing, but Arthur? She was a Servant, one backed by countless decades of experience. Why would she—

Oh. Ohhhh.

Shirou smirked. "It'll be fine, Seiba."

Arthur's brow twitched. His amusement grew.

She feared the one thing locked away from her Servant container: the Dragon Core. That look on her face confirmed her knowledge of its presence. Not only that - Artoria was a mystery. Just like him, Arthur never knew herself at age eighteen. She understood her own body, she understood the adult Lancers.

But this?

This was new.

Artoria chewed her lip. "But... Saber..."

"Shirou..." Arthur began.

Nope. He'd made his decision. "Winner gets second servings."

...

They lunged for the swords. The catfight was on.

"The food is mine!" Artoria snarled.

"Hmph! We shall see!"

The weapons collided; dust plumed. Artoria emerged first, backing away, and Arthur pursued low and fast.

"Haaa—!"

The Servant's prana surged. It spilled out of her core, up into her arms and fingers. One horizontal swipe; Artoria jumped.

...

Well, there went that tree.

"Art thou mad?!" his Master jeered. "You'll ruin the camp!"

Arthur took a breath and continued her pursuit. "He can project another tent! 'Tis fine!"

"Saber is not some conjuration contraption to be abused, you bewitched lunatic!"

Ah yes, another major difference: perspectives on efficiency.

King Arthur used everything at her disposal to hold back the Saxon invaders. Seized funds and weapons, drafted villagers, the whole nine yards. Majority over minority. Ends justified the means.

Artoria lived her whole life in the same town. Knew everyone by name, had an extended, unofficial family larger than Chaldea's Servant list. She valued what she had and prioritized their well-being over everything else, and for some reason - ugh - he now, for better or worse, topped that list. Minority over majority. Means before the ends.

She was overprotective, to say the least.

"'Tis fine!" Arthur implored. "Right, Shirou?!"

A draconian roar followed her words. One Shirou recognized.

...

"S-Saber?" he whimpered.

"Aye?!"

"When was the last time you—"

Bang. Crash. Bam.

"Not since my arrival, Shirou!"

Like a bull in a china shop. Or a lion chasing a gazelle.

"N-Not at all?!"

Seiba hungry.

"Gawain cannot cook, Shirou!"

Seiba famished.

So famished, in fact, that he didn't trust her with a sword. Nothing more dangerous than a cute, starving king with a magical weapon of mass destruction.

Their training blades vanished with a thought; the two girls continued regardless. Swings became hooks, stabs became jabs. Arthur grabbed a fistful of Artoria's tunic, and to the ground they went.

...

Two Artorias wrestling.

"I shan't let you steal my chef!"

"Then earn him!"

"Ngh...! You little—!"

...

Keep it together, Shirou. Imagine Kotomine in his underwear.

Arthur yanked Artoria's ponytail. "Ha! Do you see?! 'Tis a combat liability!"

The other girl grit her teeth, flipped them over so she was on top. She reached for Arthur's ribbon.

"Like yours is... any better...!"

Both hairstyles unraveled; golden locks fell to their shoulders, and Shirou cursed his heart's sudden lurch. As they were now, both girls reminded him of a certain missing someone.

Artoria leaned in close, and bared her canines with a ferocious, teasing smirk. Her eyes glinted yellow. Prana drenched the air.

"Hoh? You pretend to be a man, yet keep thy hair long?"

Arthur's scowl was at odds with her blush. She planted her boot's sole against Artoria's midriff.

"Like you are any..." And shoved. "...different!"

The burst of energy sent Artoria flying; Shirou moved without a thought. He broke her fall, caught her easily enough. Job done, he moved to separate.

But she refused. Her back pushed into his chest.

"Mmm... this is lovely."

...What? Bodily contact reduced her to a blubbering wreck! What was she—

Golden irises ate him up. She flashed him a playful grin, then returned her focus to the stunned Arthur.

"Oh, but we are different, oh noblest of lieges. Unlike you, I am quite in tune with my inner desires. Continue to ignore your emotions, by all means. I shall do the opposite."

Shirou sensed no corruption in her signature, no perverted blackening or signs of the Grail's influence. Her eyes held confident warmth. But her skin had paled all the same, and that silly vertical strand of hair was nowhere to be found.

He'd thought it was only the memories she'd absorbed.

Wrong.

Alter Artoria coiled around his arm. Her cheek nestled against his shoulder.

"Allow me to state the things you shan't, Arthur. First and foremost of them being the acknowledgement that this man... the man you gave away..."

Her hand brushed up his chest; a pale index finger traced his Adam's apple, danced higher to flutter along his chin.

"...is perfect."

Ho-kay, problem solving time. Across all his known lives, there were exactly two ways to de-Alter Artoria Pendragon. Option one: Rule Breaker. Couldn't use that for obvious reasons, which left option two: the Carnival solution.

Embarrassment.

Arthur sputtered her weak rebuttals. Poor girl couldn't win this fight, judging by the way she blushed and trembled.

"Wh-Wha... wha... what art thou..."

"I am explaining the obvious," Alter Artoria continued. "You may hesitate all you like. We are, of course, the same girl. I know what you feel. You are unsure of thyself. Unwilling to take the plunge and admit you made a mistake. If you shan't act, I shall take your place, aye? Because if there is one thing I have learned so far, 'tis that my Saber prefers women over kings. And I am quite comfortable..."

Said girl pushed a certain part of herself more fully against his arm. Artoria was a shy introvert; her Alter side appeared to throw that away - mostly. He saw his opening in the slight tinging of her cheeks and ears.

"...with being a woman."

Like Tohsaka and Luvia all over again. But cuter, and with less property destruction. He cleared his throat.

"Artoria."

She perked up. "A-Aye?"

Archer charm: on. Lean in. Slowly.

"Seeing as I am your Saber, would you mind..."

Closer. Cloooser...

A bead of sweat traced her cheek.

"...if, from now on..."

He cupped her chin. Closer still. His breath teased her lips.

Artoria shook.

"...I called you 'Master'?"

A cloud of eldritch smoke plumed in his face. Something popped.

"Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma-Maaaamamama—"

It dispersed to reveal a very non-Altered Artoria, face cherry red, quivering in place.

Shirou stepped back and plopped his conjured helmet over her head. Artoria grabbed at the metal, stumbled away.

"Eeeeeeeeeeee—!"

She tumbled into the frost and rolled to and fro. Mission accomplished.

"Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma-Maaaamamama—"

...

Shit. She overheard.

Arthur clutched at her face. Blood dribbled from her nostrils. He gulped.

"Saber? A-Are you..."

"Sh-Shi-rou as m-m-my S-S-S—"

She fell over.

Oh no. Seiba fainted.

"'m showwy!"

If she didn't chew her food she would choke on her sniffles.

"Artoria."

She gulped down the bite of venison like a vacuum cleaner.

"I am sorry, Saber!"

He shrugged. "Apology accepted. Now: what happened?"

"I know not! 'Twas like... like a sudden bout of confidence! Like I had lost all my inhibitions!"

"Yeah, I noticed."

An oddly adorable whimper died in her throat.

"Alter is far more than a confidence boost," the dejected Arthur muttered from her corner. She sipped at her tea, knees pulled to her chest. "'Tis not so easily undone, likewise."

Shirou felt for her, he really did. Whether it be a subconscious rebellion against the kingship or an intentional display of pride, Artoria weaponized her physicality. She was aware of it. She took advantage of it. And in this case, Arthur was the victim. It cut especially deep, Shirou assumed, when paired with the knowledge that she would've gained it all with a mere additional three years to grow. It was one thing for her to meet the Lancers and not know when it would happen; it was quite another to realize she'd missed its beginnings by that much.

He keenly remembered Saber's issues with her body, her apparent masculinity. From an outsider's perspective, like Tohsaka's or even his own, it at first seemed silly. The girl was downright dainty. Everyone knew she was a woman at first glance. But for Saber, raised as a man among grizzled knights, it'd been a very real thing to overcome, and now Arthur, too, faced that battle.

Saber had the benefit of the unknown. For all she knew, she'd finished growing. Her battle was purely mental. That same mentality now stared Arthur down, and the reality of the girl Artoria - three years her biological senior and wow - made it all the worse.

A cruel fate for someone so eager to prove herself.

"Maybe 'tis due to Alter being a shard? Like myself and Arthur?" Artoria wondered.

Wait, what? "Who told you that?"

"Merlin. Man Merlin, I mean. The one from Alter's memories."

...

Uh.

"He approached us during your Reality Marble troubles, Shirou," Arthur clarified.

Ah shit, not this again. He winced and rubbed at his neck. "And... what did he say?"

Arthur set down her ceramic cup and crawled to him, brow set and cheeks puffed.

Oh no. Seiba pout. His mortal enemy.

"Saber?"

"What do you know of Avalon, Shirou?"

...

Fffffffffffff—

He glanced at Artoria. She too fixed him with a potent stare, waiting.

—ucking Merlin!

Why was it always Merlin!

"Avalon created the blade works."

Arthur's jaw dropped. "How?"

Jig was up. No use hiding it anymore. At least this time they could figure things out without that jackass Gilgamesh breathing down their necks.

"Old man Kiritsugu used it as the catalyst for the Fourth War. Its ending caused a massive fire in the city, and he used the relic to save my life. It's been with me ever since. My Origin's 'Sword'. Avalon changed my affinity to 'Sword' as well. That created the Reality Marble. Scabbards hold swords, and all that."

Artoria caught on quickly. "Wait, 'catalyst'? Then... is that how I..."

Shirou grinned, a tad bit resigned. "Avalon will always recognize Artoria Pendragon as its rightful owner. Doesn't matter which Artoria it is, I guess. That's the secret. Sometimes the Servant has the catalyst, not the Master."

She ran her fingers over her command seals.

"I literally drew a sword."

"Yeah."

Arthur edged closer still. "May I see it, Shirou?"

His finger twitched, and the relic emerged. Light refracted about and around its hovering form; an entity far beyond that of man and god, a construct dancing with the concept of impossibility.

Magic, in the truest sense of the word.

Arthur reached for it, but paused.

"'Tis... 'tis not mine."

...

"I shouldn't have it," Shirou admitted. "I returned it to her a long time ago."

"Her?"

"To Saber. The alternate you."

"What do you mean, Shirou?"

"Saber is not just your Master, Arthur," Artoria explained. "He is all of them fused into one. Remember what Merlin said? That thing about the shards, aye?"

Arthur processed the information in no time flat. An easy concept to understand for a Chaldea veteran.

"How many King Arthurs did you know, Shirou?"

"Thousands, maybe? I can't count them all. But I'm looking for one in particular."

"The owner of that Avalon?"

"Yeah. She's just... I've searched for a long time, is all. It's hard to figure out. She's not a Heroic Spirit. She ended her contract with Alaya. She's not dead, I don't think, but I can't exactly call her living, either."

It struck Arthur like a lightning bolt. She fell back on her rear, holding her temples.

"Gods above, I am such a fool. Gods, gods, gods...!"

He blinked. "Eh?"

"May I request a detour in our destination?"

Shirou let Artoria answer. She was still the Master, after all.

"To where?" she asked. "And what for?"

"We must speak with Vivian. She knows more about the scabbard than I do. She might confirm my suspicions."

He scratched his cheek. "Suspicions?"

"Aye, suspicions. What happened between us, Shirou? Between you and my alternate self?"

...

"I don't want to make things awkward."

Arthur blushed with the implications. She was innocent - inexperienced, really - but not stupid.

"S-Say it in a sentence!"

"We fell in love."

...

So many indescribable emotions crossed her features. Her hands clenched in her lap. Artoria, meanwhile, fiddled with his helmet, eyes shadowed.

"'Tis as I suspected, then," Arthur whispered.

"Saber?"

"When I returned to Camlann after the Fifth War, I was given two options. I could venture into Avalon, or ascend to the Throne. I chose the latter, and with it became aware of another life. It also included you, Shirou, and though I assume there are yet more, I know none in which we... we..."

She took a breath.

"But you are not a liar, which leaves us one other option. 'One day, someone will appear who will free you'. Do you remember telling me that, Shirou? As Archer?"

...

Wait.

"Yeah."

"If Archer's memories are always sealed, how did he know that?"

The only possible way would be—

a sword deployed
reforged once more

Reforged once more. This had happened before, and if Alaya governed access to Archer's memories, and for just a split second loosened the chain...

"This - all of it," he breathed. "It's intentional. It needed us to ask questions. Alaya, the riddles, the way it started talking—"

"The Counter Force talked to you?" Arthur asked.

"That's the thing, Saber. For... for whatever reason, I think Alaya decided that I needed to know that information, so it did what it could to pass along messages. It had me talk with my fragments, it spoke it poems. One of them - it said I was being 'reforged'. So if this isn't the first time I've been like... this... and if Archer was a part of me then like he's a part of me now, he'd have the knowledge to pass on to you. Archer knew what happened between me and the other Saber. How did you get here, again?"

"From a duel with Alter. And Alter was empowered," she stressed. "Who gave you that Avalon, Shirou?"

"The Counter Force did!"

The World itself was guiding their party. Its mysterious goals aligned with Shirou's own.
Gaia gave him her scabbard. Alaya gave him the information.
All of it, to lead them to—

...

This is the tale of that legendary, final adventure. The one told in hushed whispers. The one never recorded.

"Listen, Shirou. The me you are trying to find... I imagine she is alive in Avalon. She has not been recorded in the Throne; 'tis the only place she could have gone."

To unlock it, one must complete three separate journeys.

FATE | IDEALISM
UBW | REALISM
HF | NECESSITY

All three sharpen his focus.
All three strengthen his resolve.
All three merge into the final path forward.

"The isle and the scabbard are connected. Merlin's appearance, that strange sword, your Reality Marble's changes... her Avalon's return is the cause. It must be."

The ending of all things.
The breaking of the cycle.
The salvation of two people.
The grand finale.

"She is behind all of this. Alaya and Gaia are helping her. She cannot directly contact us, so she sends messengers instead. Avalon - it is a beacon. She is tracking you, Shirou."

What would you sacrifice to sever fate itself?

Fate/ess

This is the story of how Shirou Emiya and Artoria Pendragon reunited.

Hardbreach - 2

All of them.

"I'M BACK, SABER."

"She is trying to find you."

Confusion Corner

kirei is best girl
obligatory

The Last Episode
Fate/stay night's 2007 Realta Nua rerelease contains a secret ending - a Fate route epilogue in which Shirou and Saber reunite in Avalon.

But despite it being a Fate route epilogue, to unlock the Last Episode the player needs to complete every main ending in the game, of which there are five: one for Fate; two for UBW; two for Heaven's Feel.

I'm sure you can see where this is going.

Fateless takes those meta unlock mechanics and applies them writ large to the entire Nasuverse. The Shirou in Fateless has all of his memories, including those from UBW and HF, including all the bad endings, specifically to fulfill Realta Nua's Last Episode unlock parameters. Now, how the hell can something like this be done in a way that makes sense? Well, it's simple.

I reorganized, and made sense of, literally the entire Nasuverse.

And then I made the Last Episode chronologically the very last event.

this is what happens when you deny a man his fate route remake (VERY VERY VERY LONG)
As usual, we must begin with canon and extrapolate from there:

Quantum Timelock
[ concept ]

Spiritron record anchoring band1.
A Quantum Timelock is a metaphysical event, it calculates the average "value" of each parallel world's events, then locks past events down. A phenomenon that separates what was, and is, from what might be.
Our universe allows for countless possibilities and creates many parallels worlds and histories with different developments.
The universe has a finite amount of energy to spend maintaining each parallel world. Because the universe itself would expire if these realities were to expand without limit, it conserves energy by, excising worlds, at specific intervals, that have veered too far from the strongest, most stable timelines.
The Moon Cell has concluded that the universe we perceive of, which should be unstable, is being stabilized across the present, past, and future by this culling process and by quantum time locks.
The easiest way to visualize the process is to envision time as a giant tree, one that would grow indefinitely if left alone. The excision process is comparable to trimming the unneeded branches and leaving only the trunk of that tree.
History that becomes a part of the "time lock"2 will not change, even if it is affected by the past and future. The incidents that occur during a time lock will, in fact, never change, no matter what happens.
Even if one were to go back in time before the time lock to try and change history, once one reached the time lock, history would be forcefully restored to what was already registered there.
In a universe with quantum time locks, the outcome that is registered in an quantum time lock will not change. A time traveler can only alter the "process" by which it happens, but never the "result."

For example, imagine that there was a war in Britain, and that the "result" that was locked in afterwards was that Britain was destroyed.
Even if you could manage to travel back in time and affect history so that Britain flourished, the war ended peacefully, and everyone had a happy ending… the moment that history reached the time lock, it would cause whatever "corrections" were necessary to ensure that, despite your efforts, Britain was still destroyed.
You might be able to change the lives of one, two, or perhaps even a handful of people, but you could not change the course of the vast river of human history.
That is the "Quantum Time Lock," also known as the "Foundation of Human Order" in the world of magecraft.

On the other hand, it could be possible to deny human history from its foundations by destroying a quantum time lock through some great feat. But even with that method the most that could be done is deny human history beyond the destroyed quantum time lock.

[ Fate/EXTELLA material: Encyclopedia of Fate EXTELLA ]

Dear readers, have you been paying attention to those italicized snippets denoting timelines that are separate from the main Fateless reality? Here, I'll provide you with some examples:

Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-03 ["Unlimited Blade Works"]
Twig: 03.12 ["Brilliant Years" - TRUE]
Year: 2014
Location: London
London International Airport

Planet: Earth
Branch: 0-00
Twig: 00.00 - [The Trunk]
Location: Britain

i have numbered everything

Every single ending in Fate/stay night has received its own numbered timeline on the Tree of Life. Fateless is internally consistent. All of it. There's an unpublished map I can and do use to trace a sequence of events from the Root out to an individual Twig. Sparks Liner High? Yup. Texture? Yup. Superhero/Mind of Steel? Yup. Here's how it works:

Akasha, the Root, [ ]:
We all know what this is. The Root operates in present tense - it is omniscient, all-knowing. There is no past and there is no future, there only is. To that end, in Fateless, the Root operates akin to a light switch. There is light, or there isn't. Off or on. No in between. For example: "Shirou Emiya makes a contract with the world and becomes a Counter Guardian." Present tense: Shirou is a Counter Guardian. He is outside time and space, and it's for this reason that Archer's strategy in UBW - to kill his past self and eliminate his Heroic Spirit from the Throne - was destined for failure. Archer's fate is sealed no matter what, as there is no potential for a changing future from within the confines of the Root.

From a meta standpoint, Akasha is perhaps the biggest offender in Fateless. This thing does not lend itself well to storytelling that, uh, makes sense, and as previously mentioned, the Root's conceptual lack of chronology means the narrative bounces around severely. Things are out of order, A leads to F leads to V leads to B. Part of Fateless' core plot progression is the untangling of the Root's chaos, and as more clues are revealed, the true ordering of events slowly becomes more apparent.

The franchise is called Fate. The story is Fateless. That's all I'll say on the matter.

The Trunk:
What grows from the Root, and the temporal timeline along which the main events of Fateless happen. Both Gaia and Alayashiki are readily active within the Trunk; it is at once a Limb, Branch and Twig. It is a unique timeline containing a blend of variables taken from separate Limbs - the Limbs are like the Trunk, and the Trunk is like its Limbs. One cannot live without the other. The leaves of a tree ultimately grow from the trunk, but those same leaves keep the trunk alive.

In Fateless, Zelretch is intrinsically related to this timeline, but that's neither here nor there.

What actually happens inside the Trunk? What's this timeline like? You'll find out next chapter. ;)

Limb:
Directly grows out of the Trunk. Within the context of the Tree of Life, the Limbs are the separated, "incompatible" worlds composing the Nasuverse. There are currently two known Limbs, with potentially more to be discovered. They are numbered according to their IRL release dates, with Mahoyo taking the number one spot out of respect for its rough draft. My original intention here was to have four Limbs, not two, with each individual franchise within the Nasuverse occupying its own spot on the Tree; this had the added bonus of preserving the "four" symbolism present within the story - four routes, four swords, etc., but I needed to confirm I could do that, and embarked on a really, really, really fucking long search for the answer, because there's a lot of talk out there on how the Tsukihime/Fate separation works, and no one ever provides a fucking SOURCE, UGH!

Anyway, my journey eventually led me into the absolute pits of 4Gamer, where I found this little tidbit in an untranslated interview. Here's the machine T/L:

4Gamer:
As a result, many people came to know the TYPE-MOON world by Fate.

Mr. Nasu:
I agree. Fortunately, Fate has grown into a big content. So, this has no choice but to clearly divide the world. The two chronologies of the Basilica Church and the Witchcraft Society that I mentioned earlier were born. It's almost the same, but the details are different. Basically speaking, the only difference is whether the "red moon" is active or not.

For the life of me, I cannot tell you how this stupid fucking mushroom came up with the names "Basilica Church" and "Witchcraft Society". What the hell does basilica have to do with the Church? Ngh, whatever, the point here is that, like he says, there are apparently two chronologies, and the core difference is Brunestud's activity level. To that end, here's how Fateless interprets the split:

Limb 1: "Moon" | Mahōtsukai no Yoru and Tsukihime
Limb 2: "Man" | Kara no Kyōkai and Fate

Limb 1 can be primarily considered Gaia-dominant. Limb 2 can be primarily considered Alayashiki-dominant. The separation stems ultimately from two primary variables:

-The end result of Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg's battle against Brunestud of the Crimson Moon, and whether or not the former becomes a Dead Apostle.
-The occurrence of the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception, and whether they are slated to appear in Misaki or Mifune.

Like the names imply, in Moon the ol' vampire's active, and in Man he isn't. The story of Fateless is primarily concerned with the Fate and Tsukihime aspects of each Limb.

Branch:
Grow out of the Limbs. Can be either an individual route, or a separate standalone series. As Fateless deals mostly with persons hailing from the Limb of Man, we'll be using that as an example. Limbs, Branches and Twigs are all technically limitless, but they are not infinite. They grow and shrink as dictated by the World's pruning. Branches are quite literally "branching paths"; in a work with multiple paths, like Fate/stay night or Tsukihime, each route is its own separate Branch. If the work tells a single holistic story, such as Fate/Strange fake, then the entire series can instead be considered a single Branch. And to this end, we have the beginnings of our coordinate system:

Limb: 2

The three routes of Fate/stay night:

2-02: Fate
2-03: Unlimited Blade Works
2-04: Heaven's Feel

The second, third and fourth Branches within the Limb of Man. If you're curious as to why the Branches start with 02 and not 01, hold that thought. The numbering was not chosen randomly.

Twig:
Grow out of the Branches. Individual endings that directly result from the choices the reader makes in the visual novels. Each one is considered its own timeline, with its own variants of the characters. The Shirou Emiya who dies to Rider in the forest is not the same Shirou Emiya who convinces Archer, defeats Gilgamesh, and journeys with Rin to the Clock Tower. One perishes at age 17, while the other's story continues. The two Shirous may initially follow the same path through the Tree of Life, but ultimately their stories diverge.

Everything is numbered.
Everything is accounted for.
Everything is canon.

Within the story, you will see shorthand format used for these timelines; 2-02.01 is the Fate route's first bad end, so 2-02.00 is instead the empty "border" separating Fate and the previous Branch. With that in mind, we can shorten "the Fate route" down to either 2-02 (Limb-Branch) or 02.00 ( ), and Fate's true ending, 2-02.15, can therefore be shortened down to simply "02.15". The Limb denotation is often excluded, as we will rarely venture beyond the Trunk or Limb of Man.

Each Branch can technically spawn an infinite number of Twigs, which allows for multiple different interpretations not found within the official source material. The Abridged youtube show takes place within 2-03, Unlimited Blade Works. UBW's True End is labeled 2-03.12. Is there a number between 13 and infinity? Yes? Congratulations, Abridged is included, and one of Saber's nicknames is now Baeber. Carnival Phantasm? Yup. Emiya Gohan? Yup. Every single player-specific permutation of Fate/Grand Order, down to the individual attack commands issued against the various enemies? We won't go that far, but yeah, totally possible. Koha-Ace? Right next to Redline. Old and new Tsukihime? Both have their places in the Tree. And if ever KnK and Fate are no longer compatible and need to be separated, for example, all one needs to do is spawn a new Limb.

The Last Episode meta-mechanics have been applied to the multiverse Nasu created.

Everything now makes sense.

tl;dr: ufotable skipped over the fate route and it offended me very very very much so i reorganized the entire nasuverse to specifically create a canon-compliant scenario in which every single shirou and every single artoria could reunite in the last episode haha lol my petty nerd rage burns with the intensity of one thousand suns gone supernova where's my fucking fate route remake FUCK