1/30/21 - Here it is, folks, the last part of this collection. It's AU day, and I have something special for you: a glimpse into a Fate AU! I've had this idea for some time, but I'm afraid the concept is a little too ambitious for a regular fic. I'm glad I found an excuse to delve a little bit into this story though. Oh, and as a heads-up, Fate is complicated. I tried my best to make everything understandable, and you should be able to get the gist without prior knowledge. Although it doesn't hurt if you do know a little bit about the Holy Grail War and its rules.
Side note: All the Japanese is taken from James Clavell's Shõgun. I apologize for any mistakes.
Kiane Week Day Seven: AU
Seven Masters and Seven Servants compete for the Holy Grail, a mysterious relic said to grant every wish imaginable.
Should Fate Ever Part Us
He is back home. The leaves dance in the air. Her laugh echoes through the forest, a tune like a sweet windchime. The warm rays of sunlight through the canopy bathe the skin of her bare arms in gold and emerald as she twirls with the leaves, her face obscured by locks like the bark of the hickory tree. With another spin, her bare feet bring her towards him. She extends her hands. Inches separate their fingertips…
"Wakarimasu ka, Harlequin-sama?"
The scents and scenery of the forest disappeared to leave the Heroic Spirit Harlequin alone on the barren rooftop of one of Fuyuki's plentiful skyscrapers. Thousands of electric lights pierced the sky and blackened the stars with their cold presence. And although Harlequin was not a physical part of this world and hadn't been since his death eleven hundred years ago, the wind bit into his skin.
"Nan desu ka?"
For a moment, Harlequin failed to make sense of the strange words the disembodied voice of his Master whispered to him. Then the images of the forest left him entirely, and his mind pieced the Japanese expressions together into a coherent picture. Gilthunder had asked him what was the matter – maybe more than once judging by the distress of his voice.
"Gomen nasai, Master," Harlequin said. An honest apology. He had let his mind wander astray from his assigned duty for too long already. In Japanese he continued, "Could you please repeat your instructions?"
Like all Servants, Harlequin had access to the entirety of human knowledge collected until this point in time, and this included the ability to speak any language with the same ease as his own. But the complex expressions found in Japanese never felt comfortable on his tongue.
Gilthunder's teeth clacked against one another. A clear sign of his unease. "Am I not providing you with sufficient amounts of magic? Is that why you are drifting off sometimes?"
"Iyé." – No. "I was lost in thought. I promise I won't fail you again, Master."
Gilthunder said nothing for a while. For his age, he was a talented member of the Clock Tower Mages, but he always harbored doubts about his potential. Not an hour since Harlequin's summoning had passed without Gilthunder second-guessing the connection he has forged to his Servant. His doubts were not unfounded – in the Holy Grail War, the strength of the bond between Master and Servant could tip the scale between loss and victory, life and death.
"Are you sure you have recovered from your battle with Archer?" Gilthunder asked. "We can't afford any mistakes, not this time. Not against Hendrickson. I know his methods, he will stop at nothing to win the Grail."
"Won't you do the same?"
"I don't want the Grail. I want Hendrickson and Dreyfus to pay for what they did." Gilthunder paused. At the foot of Harlequin's vantage point, cars and motorcycles rushed by with roaring engines. This world was too loud, no matter the time of day. Here, a leaf sailed to the ground unheard.
When Gilthunder continued, his voice sounded distant. He too reminisced about the time before the Holy Grail War. "Have you ever lost yourself in battle? To the point of regret? Of course, I have heard your tale, the stories they exhibit in the Clock Tower library… but how did it feel? Do you think you could have chosen another path if you had wanted?"
Harlequin held his palm out in front of him. The scars were the same as back then. And when he concentrated, the blood of the criminals still ran from his fingers. They deserved to die. He had repeated this phrase until his final breath, and whenever he remembered the torture she had suffered at their hands, the phrase sprouted another root to anchor a sense of rightfulness in his mind.
He closed his fist. "Perhaps. But my story has been told already. You can still influence yours. Whichever path you chose, I will follow you. It is my duty as your Servant."
"You would be the first Servant to lose the Holy Grail War because your Master lacked commitment. Don't you have a wish you want to ask the Grail to fulfill?"
Harlequin nodded, even though Gilthunder could not see him. "Hai. But only one can obtain the Grail. We first have to overcome the remaining five Servants opposing us. Luckily for us, Rider is off the board already."
"Would you have been able to defeat him?"
"In a fair fight? No. Although it is difficult to say for sure without knowing the potential of his Master. But from what I have gathered, Rider possessed the highest reserves of magic out of all of us. Caster outsmarted him. Otherwise, he would have lasted far longer. He might have even won."
Gilthunder snorted. "Then I owe Caster my thanks. Her and Arthur Pendragon."
The Pendragons held the honor of one of the longest-running Mage bloodlines. They and the Liones family had participated in all previous renditions of the Holy Grail War, and more often than not, the Grail had wandered into either of their hands. And although the appointed Master of the Liones family had yet to show herself, Arthur Pendragon had made clear that he fought to win the war. With his victory against Rider – in his previous life known as the chosen hero of the sun, Escanor – Arthur had certainly proven to possess the wit and the strength to succeed.
Harlequin let his eyes trail across the skyline. There, past the red beams of Fuyuki bridge, at the harbor, Gilthunder supposed to find the hideout of one of his enemies.
"The port holds little to no magic," Harlequin said. "If Hendrickson stays there, then as an invitation to fight."
"What strategy do you suggest?"
"Unless either Dreyfus or Hendrickson have summoned the Saber-Class Servant, we have a good chance of winning this round. Even if we don't defeat the Servant waiting there tonight, discovering their identity would help us decide on our next steps. I suggest we accept the invitation before another party joins the fray."
"Wakatta." – Understood. "I will track down Hendrickson. Once you have engaged his Servant, he will have to divert part of his attention to your battle. Then I can take him down. My father will be avenged."
Although he empathized with Gilthunder's motives, Harlequin could not help but doubt. The Grail chose Masters in need of its aid, those with a wish the Grail could grant. Sometime before the Holy Grail War, the selected seven Mages would find three Command Seals on the back of their hand, the symbol of their participation and the link to their Servant. But Gilthunder had only one goal in this war: revenge against the two heads of the Clock Tower. A short-lived wish that shone brightly for a while. But before his hands would touch the Grail, the wish would be burnt out.
Harlequin knew these hungry flames, its heat had guided his hands as well.
But it was not his duty to question his Master. His duty was to serve.
And maybe reach the end of the Holy Grail War to have his own wish granted.
With five steps Harlequin reached the edge of the roof and jumped. The wind rushed in his ears, and the light from countless windows blurred to lines of red and white. And then he dissolved. His physical shell vanished to leave him blind and deaf for a heartbeat.
When the teleportation had completed, the crimson glow of Fuyuki bridge ignited the darkness behind him, and the concrete of the harbor pressed against his boots. Hard and unforgiving, a far cry from the mossy grounds of the forest he had called home. Mountains of containers surrounded him, and every stack might hide an ambush. At least one Servant was close.
Who would he face? Assassin? Or had he risked too much and would meet his end at the hands of Saber?
Twenty yards ahead, Gilthunder waited in the cold light of a streetlamp. He signaled Harlequin with clipped military gestures to secure the area to the left while he himself would zero in on Hendrickson. Then he slipped into the shadows between two tanks labeled as motor oil.
With a mere thought, Harlequin called forth his Noble Phantasm, the Spirit Spear Chastifol. The leather-wrapped staff hugged his palm, but the unease remained. As a Servant of the Lancer class, he sought the open confrontation with his opponents. The tiptoeing and trickery of Assassin and Caster had their merits, but the thought of applying such dishonorable strategies himself created a salty taste on his tongue.
If only the other Servant would show themselves.
Harlequin searched the surrounding containers with his eyes. "Master?"
"I have visual contact on Hendrickson," Gilthunder replied between gritted teeth. "He is preparing for a spell. I can't get a good read on the alchemist circle he's drawing – wait, it can't be… they told us never to use such magic. The Mage's Association forbids its use. With these spell spheres he could drain the people of the entire district of their energy…"
"I'm on my way."
"No, wait, I know what Servant he has." The horror spoke from Gilthunder's voice. "Berserker! He has Berserker!"
And one heartbeat after the information passed from Harlequin's ears to his brain, the three stacked containers to his right exploded. Razor-sharp shards of metal cut the air, a storm of deadly leaves. He evaded the attack with a jump, defected the last projectile with Chastifol. A roar thundered through the night, pained, furious, beyond reason. The concrete under Harlequin's feet quaked, and past the dust of pulverized harbor pieces, a ten-foot figure emerged. A wild mess of brown locks danced around their head, and their dark eyes stared at Harlequin. All they saw was the enemy.
No, no, no, no, what were the odds? History had thousands of Heroic Spirits to choose from, why would it pick her? Why would she return to him as Berserker, a creature who only listened to the voice of its Master and the call for destruction?
Because she had lost her mind during the torture. Because he hadn't arrived in time to save her from the suffering or the madness. He had seen how the pain had mangled her, even back then.
Harlequin, a hero of ancient times who had won the heart of a Forest Spirit, Lancer in the Fifth Holy Grail War, looked into the eyes of Diane, the same Forest Spirit who had died a horrific death and who had been reborn as Berserker.
A flash of lighting split the night to her left. The product of Gilthunder's magic painted over her features and emphasized the protruding bones. Like this she had looked when Harlequin had held her in his arms for the last time with the blood of her captors on his hands and the taste of tears on his lips. Broken body, broken spirit.
Diane roared, and the magic radiating from her hit Harlequin with the force of an asteroid. The war hammer in her hands split the earth where he had stood a second ago. Debris rained onto the harbor, and the glass of the nearest lanterns shattered under the shock waves. Harlequin spun out the way, always dodging, never retaliating while his mind screamed to find a solution, a way out. Diane tore through containers as though they were twigs under her feet. Senseless hatred burned in her eyes as she pursued her opponent.
Harlequin leaped onto a crane, but the metal shrieked and bent under the barrage of Diane's hammer. "Master, I won't be able to defeat her. I beg you, let us retreat."
"No. This is the best chance I have." Another storm of lightningbolts struck the port and the water of the Mion river quivered. Hendrickson answered with an explosion of dark magic. "I will use a Command Seal."
"No, please! You only have three, and when you use the last one, I will disappear, and you lose the Holy Grail War. Please, Master, consider caution. I- I cannot fight her."
Gilthunder growled. "Hendrickson murdered my father for the Holy Relics in his possession. Without the work my father dedicated his life to, he would have never been able to summon Berserker. And if I have to sacrifice all my Command Seals, I will take away what he stole from my father.
"Lancer! As your Master, I order you to use all your strength and the power of your Noble Phantasm to destroy Berserker!"
The shackles of the Command Seal wrapped themselves around Harlequin in an instance. He fought their pull, tightened the grip around his spear until his fingers went numb, but he could not escape the voice of his Master.
His duty was to serve.
Even if it meant watching his beloved die a second time.
Diane's next blow shattered the support beams of the crane. Harlequin vaulted her and flipped midair, the tip of Chastifol aimed for her neck. The bronze head of her hammer crashed into him beforehand. Blood filled his mouth. But with the surplus of strength the Command Seal had imposed on him, he hardly registered the sprained ribs.
He landed on his feet and cut the container she threw at him in half. Then he charged.
The ground shook whenever spear and hammer clashed, sparks flew as they pushed the metal to its limits. Harlequin danced through the barrage of her hits, spinning, skipping, leaping forward. Blood sprayed as he gazed her legs, her arms, her cheek. And still she refused to step down. Still she did not recognize him.
The magic of the Command Seal tore at Harlequin's muscles, blind to the tears in the corners of his eyes, deaf to the pleas of his heart. One last time, he pushed against the order. But all he could do was to grant her a quick death.
When her next swing broke a crater into the concrete, Harlequin soared above the wave of destruction. He infused Chastifol with all the magic he had to offer and all the energy the link to his Master provided him with. And then he revealed the true nature of his Noble Phantasm.
"CHASTIFOL INCREASE!"
The Spirit Spear fragmented under blinding light, scattered into a hundred and more pieces, and all of these transformed into knifes shaped like the leaves of the willow. Harlequin held the storm in place for a heartbeat. Inside he apologized. Then the knives swooshed forward, a deadly rain of iron shards no living creature could escape. Diane roared and met the onslaught with her war hammer. But she could not prevail. For each blade she deflected, a new one appeared and sunk into her flesh.
The strength of her magic presence depleted. Either Hendrickson could not or did not want to save her with a Command Seal.
The blades had ripped her legs to shreds, but the brute determination of the Berserker class pushed her further. On her stomach, she crawled forward to escape the tornado of knives, but she was fast approaching her limits.
And then she had passed the breaking point. Her arms stopped moving. The presence of Berserker flicked one last time and died.
Harlequin stumbled towards her, and as he felt the influence of the Command Seal fleeting, he kneeled down to take her hand in his, the way he had eleven hundred years ago. Her body was already dissipating into golden light; The Holy Grail called her back from the plain of mortals.
"I'm sorry," Harlequin whispered. Tears ran down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry you had to suffer the same fate again. But this'll be the last time, I promise. The Holy Grail is in my reach. Only four other Servants stand in my way. And then I'll wish for death to set you free. You will never have to suffer again. We will go back to our forest, to the birches and the pond covered by snow-white water lilies. I will win the Holy Grail for you. I promise."
Maybe the part of Diane untouched by madness heard his words and turned her head towards him to listen. Maybe she never grasped the love he gardened for her. But before Harlequin had the chance to place a kiss on her fingers, her hand dissipated.
Golden lights danced through the night, dozens of memory candles to mourn his loss. Then they too vanished.
A great exhaustion weighed on Harlequin, born from a shortness of magic. He would most likely be unable to maintain his physical form for the next day. But his resolve had never burned brighter. Archer, Caster, Assassin, and even Saber were mere stepping stones on his way. With Gilthunder's help, he would defeat them. And once he held the Holy Grail in his hands, he would wish to return home with Diane. No matter what trials waited for him, he would face his fate and triumph.
For her.
